Sorry this is a little low effort and rushed :( I thought that it was time to write this, but I wish it could just magically materialize because my brain is empty and uninspired.

"Is it close? I don't have much time."

Imani didn't answer the faerie's prying questions, not wanting him to be dissatisfied with her answers. No, she would only be silent and smile. Lure him in more. Keep him interested. It was easier to keep his attention than it was getting it, at least, for he had been rather preoccupied with someone else at the time, but she was no beginner. It was easy to work her way around certain type of people. She was patient, anyway, and she had gotten him to trail after her in the end.

Curling her fingers a little firmer around his wrist, she gave him no choice but to follow her down an alley. The guard was satisfied at her password, and a door opened for them to go into. She used her free hand to hike up the bottom of her long black dress as they descended down a set of stone stairs. This was a gathering spot of the elite and their customers and her pets, and also where she conducted deals she struck with desperate folks. How she loved to have guests. Though she slipped into the air of familiarity, she guessed the faerie was unused to such an atmosphere. He was part of the Hunt, after all. Still, he seemed adaptable enough.

"It'll be fun, I promise." She turned to face him, pausing at the mouth of the room. "And there's important people here too. They have lots of power."

No doubt did he assume she was just another run-of-the-mill warlock set out to amuse him. She was good at that; at least that's what she had been told in the past. He took the bait and seemed a little too keen. Like he was used to being treated as a pedigree. Then again, she would only serve pedigree to her loves.

"Now behave."

It did not take long for everything to fall into place, from the faerie's conversation with the demons to their slow domination. She had seen the fear in his eyes, and a suited person passed her an envelope for a job well done. The faerie was on the ground now and she had some pity for him. No doubt would the demons delight in their meal, gnawing at his spirit. Off-handedly, she wondered how much permanent damage they would do. Those that encountered demons often did not come out the same. There would be something in their soul, shriveled and cold and afraid, and that was more than exciting for her. Only demons seemed to be able to so effectively change a person. To warp them and their perception. Time had given her power, of course, but even she could not accomplish was greater demons could.

She was under the strict request that the faerie not die, and that, to her, was far more poetic. Scar him, feast on him, and then let him go. It'd set in and he'd have to suffer from it more. Death was too easy and merciful.

The demons teased and roughhoused and did what they did best, the faerie seeming more like some expensive plaything given to them as a prize. Like two children tossing around a porcelain doll. He was shrieking now, the entirety of the get-together now observing the event in pleasure. They laughed to such a happening, clinking their glasses and drinking to such a sight.

Oh, what a treat it was.

"Is this enough?" She leaned over to the suited figure beside her, her lips hovering by his ear where the tie of his half-mask was knotted in a quick bow. "Shadowhunter?"

He shifted, taking a sip from his glass and then leaving it on a nearby tray. Any Marks she knew he had were smartly concealed, and one might have assumed he was some warlock. Some mundane with the Sight. They would not have guessed that she brought someone in with Nephilim blood, or that this gathering had partly been because of his request.

"Will he suffer?" His words were low, and she spied some measure of hurt.

"Immensely."

"Then it almost is." The Shadowhunter looked back at the faerie, his brown eyes narrowing in on the sweat beaded across his forehead, his parted lips gasping for breath, red burns across his side. It seemed the faerie was no longer very lucid or coherent, his fingers closing and opening slightly on empty air, eyelashes fluttering as his gaze remained unsteady, but he hoped the faerie would remember. One of the demons - the woman - took him by the ankle to drag him off to the side and do Raziel knows what. Whatever demons did with bodies or faeries or prey.

Imani spent her time watching the Shadowhunter's reaction, or at least what she could see with his face partially covered. Satisfaction. Guilt. Anger. A whole plethora of mortal things she could not longer be concerned with. That was one thing demons certainly had evolved for. She was never easy to get ahold of, especially by Shadowhunters, so she was mildly impressed that he had been able to gain her attention enough to make a deal with her. People that looked that hard with that much hate and hurt in their spirit usually did not go back on their thoughts.

He tilted his head down, and looked away. "We-..." He seemed to catch himself. "I should go."

"Regretting it?" She could not help amusement from entering her tone. "You should have thought twice before requesting-"

"I have no regrets. As if I'd regret seeing a bastard like that in any sort of pain or discomfort." He adjusted his suit jacket and then took a step back. "I've seen all I need."

"If you say so."

She watched him go off, and she turned her attention to the envelope. Counting the money, a smile crept up onto her face. Oh, what people would pay for. Feeding her pets was only what she did best.