"Some things I don't put up with."

"Quite right," I said, while the two gang leaders were still numb with shock and outrage. "You forget your place, Demon Lordz. You're not at home now. Time for us to talk seriously, I think. So drop the illusions. We're not tourists. Show us your real faces."

And in the blink of an eye, the gangsta street gang and their two yuppie leaders were gone, replaced by whole crowd of crimson-skinned medieval demons. Eight feet tall and overpoweringly brutal, they crowded together before and around us, scarlet as sin, stinking of brimstone, with goats' horns curling up from their foreheads and cloven hooves for feet. Their male and female attributes were sarcastically exaggerated. So were their fangs and claws. Long, twitching tails hung down between their bent legs. Suzie sniffed loudly, unimpressed, and glared at me.

"You know I hate surprises. So this is why you had me carve a cross in each of my bullets and dip them in holy water."

"I believe in being prepared," I said calmly. "Allow me to introduce the real Demon Lordz. A batch of very minor demons, on the run from Hell, living among us as humans for the pleasures it affords them."

"Coffee!" said the Demonz, their snarling voices overlapping. "Ice cream! Cold showers!"

"And all the mortals we can torture," said Mr. Bones. "We can't keep them away. And they pay us to do it to them!"

"Not that we do much of the tormenting ourselves, these days," said Mr. Blood. "We find it better to delegate. All our dominatrixes are fully human. No-one understands how to inflict pain better than a trained professional human. You mortals are subtler than we could ever be..."

"And besides, some of us had trouble with the concept of safe words," said Mr. Bones, glaring about him.

"If you're all real demons," said Suzie, "how did you escape from Hell?"

The Demonz sniggered and elbowed each other in the ribs. Mr. Blood giggled. "Why, this is Hell, Faustus, nor are we out of it. Ah, the old jokes are still the best."

"Answer the lady," I said.

Mr. Bones shrugged. "Let's just say we're political refugees, and leave it at that. We're hiding out from those who would seek to drag us back."

"If you're trying to hide," said Suzie, "why call your place The Pit? Isn't that kinda drawing attention to yourselves?"

"No-one ever said demons were smart," I observed. "And they really are only very minor demons."

The Demon Lordz moved in a little closer, flexing their claws. The stench of brimstone was almost overpowering. I could feel my eyes smarting. I smiled kindly upon them, utterly casual.

"What do you want here, Taylor?" said Mr. Bones.

"The Unholy Grail has come to the Nightside," I said.

"We know. We don't have it," Mr. Blood said immediately.

"Never thought for a moment that you did," I said easily. "It's way out of your league. But you know people. You have contacts. You hear things, from others of your kind. So if anyone knows who's got the Unholy Grail, or is closest to getting it, it's you."