You watch the Blind Pianist. She's hidden it well, but you're sure. The long teeth, the hint of sulphur behind the lavender water, yellow eyes behind smoked glass. She's a devil.

A ripple of polite applause marks the end of her set. Her music is unconventional. Even the Bohemians don't know what to make of it. She sits next to you at the bar and orders whisky.

'You expected me to drink blood? Or tears?' she asks. 'My kin like to play to the crowd. They threw me out of the Brass Embassy because I don't share their hungers.'

'I see the Sallow Spirifer's back. He's an odd one. He says he only buys souls to return to their owners, but I'm not sure. I tried to be friendly, but he doesn't know you can trust a devil that drinks whisky.'