Excerpt:

The first time he saw the demon, it was in the nightclub, on a cold dark December night. He had been over at the bar, ordering a drink when the demon had made his entrance. The club was dimly lit; music playing quietly in the background after the DJ had yet to show up, much to the owner's annoyance. The demon had crimson skin, a tattoo on his face and piercing yellow eyes that seemed to see right through him. It was uncomfortable looking into them for any amount of time, yet he had a hard time tearing his gaze away. He approached the bar, sat down on one of the stools and ordered his 'usual', whatever that was. He chatted with the barman, exchanging jokes and told stories of his day while the barman listened intently, enthralled with what he was hearing. Then suddenly, the demon shifted his gaze to him, only now seeming to notice him. The demon grinned at his wide-eyed, deer-caught-in-headlights expression as he put his head down and left the bar to find a table somewhere else. After that, he left.

The second time he saw the demon, was on a street corner in one of the shadier parts of town. He felt utterly paranoid, glanced over his shoulder more than once to be sure no one was following him, and walked down the street trying to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. He wondered why he was even there, why he had allowed himself to be talked into this. It was a foolish idea, he knew the risks. He'd seen first hand just what could go wrong, what did go wrong in this insane idea he was considering. Yet here he was, making his way to the black market, through side streets and alleyways all of which smelt of urine, vomit and other unpleasant things he didn't care to try and identify.

The streets were quiet at least, besides one or two people he passed. There were no cars speeding up and down, a rarity for this part of the city and that time of night. As he got closer to the market, he could hear a few hushed voices whispering to one another, a pounding of feet a moment later. He steeled himself, tried to prepare himself for the people he was about to face. He took a breath, a short one, breathing through his mouth, still trying to avoid the smell. He walked purposefully down the alleyway, his attempt at looking confidant failing rather miserably to him, and there, at the street corner standing with another figure with its hood up, was the crimson skinned demon. The demon leaned against a lamp post, looking around him as if he were waiting for someone. The figure standing next to him spoke quietly to him, and the demon turned to look at him. He jumped, turned and ran back down the alleyway he had come through.

The third time he saw the demon, he was in his local pub. It was mid-afternoon; he sat at a table in the corner, with the paper and a pint sitting in front of him. It was quiet for that time of day, it always was and this was why he had chosen this time to go drinking at. He had lost track while sitting there, and he looked over to the clock that sat behind the bar. It wasn't quite as late as he thought it would be, so he settled back, took a sip of his pint and continued to read. The door opened and closed, causing him to look up, if only to see if it were anyone he knew. His jaw almost dropped when he saw that it was the demon once more. He put his head down; in the hope the demon wouldn't spot him. Of course, just his luck, the demon had. When he looked again, the demon had a grin stretching across his face, as he leaned on the bar while awaiting his drink. He swore silently. Just his luck that he had a demon following him now.
He folded his paper, took a large drink out of his pint and left the grinning demon; sure he heard a quiet laugh from behind him as he retreated to his home.