The chicken leg fit perfectly in an empty stomach, where it quickly made some company. Cyril ate in silence for a while, until he was tired of chewing. Then he grew tired of being silent and looked up at Madame de Mons.

Madame sat a little apart, at the head of the table, where she met Cyril as he entered. There were a couple of chairs between them, and an unthinkable number of treats from fat meat to light salads and wine. At the moment, Madame de Mons herself was carefully touching a sweet pudding with a teaspoon.

"We will serve you." She said, noticing Cyril's gaze. "Even if you are still human."

"Why?"

Cyril said it with his mouth full, leaning slightly over a plate of leftover green beans. He could see that Madame was looking at him with a faint smile, as mothers look at happy children when they have finally had enough of playing and come home. Or how a wife looks at her husband, who has returned from a long trip.

"Because Amon will be back." Madame slightly twitched her wrinkly nose and said it, pushing the dessert away from her. "You can't beat him."

Cyril nodded, taking a sip of red wine.

The wine was tart and invigorating, which was good for him.

'I should set up supplies to the tavern.' Cyril made a mental note.

"When he returns, we will be waiting for him, ready for retribution." Madame de Mons finished, and tossed a piece of pork to the wagging Goldie.

"That's good to hear." Cyril belched, and set down his empty glass. "I need your help while I'm looking for answers and trying to die. And no fucking demon can stop me."

"You're stubborn." Madame said. "He always liked stubborn people."

Cyril leaned back in his chair.

"Why did you keep me in the basement?"

Madame took a sip of tea.

"Succubi require the male semen to support their life cycle and to preserve their beauty."

Was it Cyril's imagination, or was there a hint of puzzlement in her tone?

"We never kill people unnecessarily." Madame added.

"You don't kill, do you? I didn't even have the strength to speak."

"That's because you resisted." Madame de Mons replied in a firm, slightly displeased tone.

She did not much like the way they had treated him, but Madame de Mons could not immediately recognize Cyril as her husband. Or rather, the revived soul of her husband. And Madame de Mons still couldn't understand how this could have happened at all.

"This doesn't usually happen." She said, seeing that Cyril was waiting for her to continue. "Men give themselves to us easily, we get the semen and leave. Often they also pay."

With the last words, Madame smiled the same smile that made Cyril feel sick.

"So there are quite a few of you among the prostitutes?" He said in sarcastic tone, trying not to vomit on a white tablecloth with some pink flowers.

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Judging from the interior, he would never have guessed that he was in the lair of an alien race. Besides, as far as Cyril knew, demons were something like the fiends of hell.

"We prefer the term night hunters." Madame de Mons corrected him carefully.

"Shit, a whore is always a whore." Cyril spat on the floor.

"You are very rude, Cyril."

"And you are very fucking old woman who put me in a basement." Cyril snapped, leaning forward. "How long was I there?"

"Just a day and night."

"So it's Wednesday. Fine." Cyril murmured, and relaxed again.

The events of the past day had ruffled his nerves, and he didn't want to get angry again. Moreover, a full stomach did not contribute to a negative perception of life.

"I thought there were no more demons or other races in the city." He added.

Madame de Mons nodded, and poured herself more tea from a porcelain teapot.

"We are not many and we are, you might say, incognito."

"What is the Golden Cup clan? Is this a succubus clan?"

There was a chuckle behind Cyril and he whirled around. Several girls were standing along the wall. All of them exuded lust and availability. If there was one thing that didn't look like a brothel, it was a broken door and the fact that the girls didn't hesitate to assume their demonic appearance.

One of the succubi covered her mouth with a red-skinned hand and let her tail hang limply.

"I'm sorry, my Lord." She said, and her white fangs flashed as she removed her hand from her face.

"The Golden Cup clan was founded by humans, just like the other two clans." Madame de Mons said, and Cyril turned back. "This is the youngest of the capital's clans. Basically, the clan is engaged in trade."

"What's the joke? What the hell are all these clans for? I don't get it."

Cyril really wasn't sure if he got the gist of it. As far as he knew, in the history of Earth, clans were sprawling families, and most often the Sopranos, the mafia, came to mind. However, here the clans clearly had a different meaning.

"Technically, the clans are subordinate to the king and share social functions." Madame explained.

"Like what?"

"The Golden Cup clan supports trade, develops medicine, and enforces justice."

Cyril cleared his throat significantly.

"The clan has introduced hospitals into the country." Madame de Mons looked at him with a hint of her old pride. "The clan built stores, but they established courts to eliminate lawlessness. However, a few years ago we managed to enslave the fathers of the clan and take control into our own hands."

"What for?"

"People have only recently forgotten about the big war." She said. "We introduced into the clan an idea that people should spend time buying goods. This will weaken their vigilance. When the demons are strong enough, we will strike and regain the dominion of the human lands."

Cyril whistled.

"While people are buying a high mountain tea and a new smartphone?" He clarified.

"Smart what?" Madame did not understand and shushed Goldie when the dog tried to get its front paws on her lap.

"It doesn't matter." Cyril said, and exhaled.

His stomach finally felt better after a huge amount of food, and he wanted to move.

"Well, you got the idea right." Madame de Mons said when Goldie finally got her bone.

"Okay." Cyril said. "And the Clean Heel clan? The Clan of Fate?"

"The Clean Heel clan is strong, but they also buy highland tea." Madame smiled slyly.

Cyril couldn't help but frown. Last time, this tea had really ruined his mood.

"The Clean Heel adepts honor tradition and develop magic, but increasingly their interaction with the outside world is limited to selling water." Madame added.

'Wizards and nerds, then.' Cyril nodded to himself.

"The Clan of Fate has actually created a new religion and rules the minds of the people, but it is the most dangerous one right now."

"Why?" Cyril tensed.

"They have gone into the shadows." Madame de Mons said, beckoning to one of the girls. "Even our agents can't find out what they're doing."

She whispered something to the demoness, and the girl went to the other side of the table to get a new dessert.

"The unknown is the most terrible weapon, Cyril." Madame de Mons said firmly. "Amon knows it, so he's not talking to you yet."

"Can he talk to me?"

Cyril leaned forward.

"If he wants to, and if he's strong enough."

Madame de Mons accepted a piece of cake from the succubus.

'If I can talk to you, buddy, you're already half my ally.' Cyril thought, leaning back again. 'Fuck you, I won't give you my body for nothing.'

He motioned for the girl who served Madame dessert to pour him some tea.

'Although, if you kill me in the process...'

"What will happen to me if he takes over?" He asked aloud, looking up at Madame. "Am I going to die?"

"No, of course not." She said, shaking her head. "You'll be his pawn. Your personality, words, actions. He will control you, but he will never let you die while he lives in your body."

'Shit.'

"How can I contact you when I need help?"

Madame de Mons hesitated for a second, not immediately understanding what Cyril meant. Then she spoke again to the youth along the wall.

"Girls, give him the device."

One of the succubi gave a quick nod and disappeared through the broken door with a cat-like stride.

Cyril took a long sip of tea and stared at the ceiling. Right now, he wanted to relax for a moment and not think about anything. He wanted to smoke a cigarette, even though Cyril never smoked.

'It's just the mood.' He thought. 'Happy to finally understand what the hell is going on with me.'

He chuckled to himself just as the demoness returned. She quickly stood in front of Cyril and, silently lowering her head, held out a hand mirror. Cyril took the mirror and found on its edge formations similar to those he had seen on the chests in the bath.

"This invention was created by the clan of Fate and Clean Heel clan." Madame de Mons said. "We were able to buy their knowledge of this device. Just touch the formation on the edge of the mirror and I'll hear you, Amo-"

Madame stopped short. Cyril pretended not to notice.

"I'll hear you, Cyril." The older demoness corrected herself.

"I'd like to draw an apple here." Cyril said absently.

"What?" Madame did not understand. "Why an apple?"

"It doesn't matter, I was just tired and joking." Cyril muttered.

Suddenly he slapped his knee in new trousers and got up from the chair.

"Okay! Thanks for lunch and all, I have to go."

"Where are you going?" Madame de Mons asked, and again reminded him of a surprised hostess whose husband, just after returning from a long trip, had announced that he was going fishing.

"I want to check on the Clean Heel clan." Cyril said, stepping out of the room through the wide glass doors. "They have a friend of mine."