If I was half-demon, why didn’t I get any of their natural abilities? Their penchant for prowling soundlessly through the night would’ve come in pretty damn handy over the past few years.

We were standing outside the train station, watching as people approached from all angles. A few of them were wearing cloaks, while others wore balaclavas, or hats and sunglasses. Even knowing I was invisible, I had to fight the urge to cower behind the rubble.

The werewolves had ripped up most of the train tracks while they were rampaging through the station, and no one had bothered to move them away. They were sprawled around the station like stitches pulled from the wound of that day 72 years ago.

The old train station was just around the corner from Meredith’s. Given the location, it was surprising that the remains of the building hadn’t been knocked down so the space could be used for something else. But a witch claiming to see ghosts had come out a few years ago and insisted that the spirits of the humans who’d been slaughtered by the werewolves were here and had declared that anyone who built on this spot would be cursed.

The pararnormals didn’t seem to need the station, and most humans had believed the witch, although she’d later been found to be low on the power scale. It took serious power to see a ghost.

Still… this would be an incredible space if anyone ever fixed it up.

More people were arriving, and I slunk closer to the chairs that had been set up in neat lines close to a small stage. Vas shadowed my footsteps.

“Creepy place,” a voice muttered. “Why’d we have to come here, anyway?”

“It’s the best place for something like this,” a guy next to him explained patiently. “Now quit whining and help me carry these.”

I watched as they carried several paintings into the train station. My shoe scuffed along a broken brick and both men jumped, glancing around.

“I told you it was haunted,” the smaller guy said.

“Haunted or not, we need this auction so we can sell this shit.”

My breath caught as I gazed at the paintings. They’d obviously been painted in another realm, because I’d never seen colors or flowers like those before. I could stare at those paintings for days.

The items being sold tonight were all being placed on the crude wooden stage, and I took a few steps closer as the men leaned the paintings against the wall.

Along with the paintings, there was an obviously priceless bracelet— dripping with glimmering stones I’d never seen in this world. Next to the bracelet sat a pair of brass knuckles which radiated power, a handful of old scrolls written in a language I didn’t recognize, and a stack of books which looked suspiciously similar to the grimoire the witches had used to kill Samael’s demons.