The crowds, as always, were out in full that night.

Few of them knew exactly what was going on and those that did were less than reputable. We were in a pub which had a large enough basement to house a decent show venue and the darkened lighting added the perfect atmosphere for the function that was away to be provided. The set-up quick enough, the PA system rigged, lightning changed and band banners hung. I'd never been much for excessive decoration, but when it came to gigs I liked to go a little overboard on the props. We had two black banners which hung on the flanks of the stage, both positioned over smoke machines so our bold font exclaiming Haunter's Dhow was surrounded in mystery. The drum kit was positioned inside the Arabian vessel of our name sake, a small boat with shredded lateen sails. Old barrels had been hauled in to dress the stage a little more and let us guitarists kneel up on them when we needed to balance our instruments for the tricky bits. More importantly however, the back of the stage was sectioned off in rows of weapon racks, which held swords and maces far too decorative to be real, or so the audience were led to believe, and two statues of Angels which had been left untouched. Though the smoke gave them a haunting enough visage, and helped hide the Runes carved into their bases.

Truth was, everything was carved in Runes. What would you expect of a Shadowhunter band? The wards ensure none of the mundanes could see what was really going on. Not that they knew what they were looking for anyway.

The support bands had already been on and the lack of lighting had hidden our stage set-up. These kinds of gigs always attracted Demons. They couldn't resist the sweat that tempted them and the living energies that drugged them. They hungered for these places and we, as Shadowhunters, were always happy to give them their opportunities. They were easy enough to identify.

"You ready, Lyall?" Callun patted my shoulder as he passed. He was a tall lad and built like a barndoor. His broad shoulders vastly differentiated from mine and his black leather jacket only made him bigger. As parabatai, we were stark opposites in appearance at the very least.

Didn't help I was ginger and he was a brunette.

"Yeah, I'll just grab a seraph blade."

"So, you're not ready."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the small tube-like instrument that sat on top a box across from me. I slid it into the inside pocket of my jacket and got ready to head out on stage. I wasn't the only one still getting sorted. Blair was tuning his bass and Ailith hunting her drumsticks. In fact, Callun and I were the only ones ready, as per usual. I watched as Ailith tucked her drumsticks into the back pocket of her jeans, next to another seraph blade. Blair had found his bass.

I led us all onto the stage.

The show, as always, was fun for us. Huge fun. I got to scream at people all night and shared a few guitar solos with Callun. We did everything together, after all.

Well, everything that was acceptable.

The Demons were easy to identify. While the mundies jumped about, kicking and bawling at each other, the Demons hung as close to the mosh pits as they could without being in them. However, there were always a few extra lingering around and they tended to be the smarter ones. They were taking a risk coming here.

Though, we had our own tricks for the hunt.

"I want to see your horns, Dundee!"

The audience complied wholeheartedly and I got to enjoy the sight of nearly a hundred fists bouncing back and forth through atop the crowds. It was satisfying to be in my position, sure, but I still had a job to do. The next song was our big trick, you see. There are some frequencies Demons just can't stand and, well. Let's just say we'd see who enjoyed the next few songs the least.

"Now, if we're all metalheads here then you know how to move like metalheads," I looked out across the crowd, panting like a mundane. Eyes lingered on me and some didn't seem entirely natural. Though it was a challenge to tell in this lighting. "Are you ready to dance?!"

There was much charging and jumping, elbows and knees crashing into each other as the crowd leapt at the opportunity to crash about. Then, there was thrashing. There was a clear difference and it separated the mundies from the dumdies. There were seven of them here and it was clear some of them had figured out our little act. One was squinting at our band name and I wondered if he'd figured out it'd been an anagram of Shadow Hunter all along. Another was in the front row and I had great satisfaction screaming "For the hunter, descending to hell is always easy." Not quite our little quote, but close enough to get the message across.

The mundies were none the wiser.

Of course, the dumdies were never able to leave. As soon as the last song was over the Shadowhunters manning the doors had herded them back inside and locked the doors. We turned on the floodlights and illuminated our prey as the four of us hopped down from the stage, brandishing our seraph blades.

Even better, they were still drugged up on the ecstasy of the night. Killing them was more than simple.