Some people exist in the blessed light of day, but I'm not one of those people. I exist in the bleak grey of a post-twilight world, where the warmth is sucked from the air and the weightless shadows come out to play. I wasn’t always like this, but a year ago something terrible happened, and now I have a darkness inside me. A demon. It shadows my steps, growing closer every day, its grip around my neck tightening. Maybe the demon is him. Nicholai Fell. He exists in the horrible darkness of a moonless night. Quiet. Full of mystery. Completely unreachable. He might be in the profession of saving people, but it isn’t going to work this time. Not even when he breaks his own rules, or when he chases me, or when he threatens to break me. Because maybe … Just maybe ... My demon is me.