Prologue

Paris. The City of Light. The intricate beauty of the statues and fountains, the arcing spire of the Eiffel Tower. The lack of skyscrapers against the burnished copper sunset. It is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. So it was a pity I was in Liverpool, staring at a tourism poster on the train. Not so good. But I had a mission, and this time I was going to stick to it. There had been some strange reports of creatures in Liverpool, the strangest of which was a 6-foot red man with horns and a tail. The description only fitted one thing I could think of. Satan. A.K.A my Dad. My name is Satella Chavez, daughter of The Devil. And now he's terrorizing, of all places, Liverpool. I mean, why bother? Why not go to Paris, where your daughter can have a nice holiday when tracking you down. Anyway, there I was, on the train when I was bumped into a girl wearing a ridiculously short green dress, and her sand coloured hair covered her eyes. "Watch it!" I hissed.
"Sorry," she grinned out from under her hair, "I didn't see you. Hey, what are you hiding in the bag?" She was referring to the sinister large black I carry with me at all times. It contains my tracking equipment, thermal scanners, night-sights and anything else I need for demon hunting.
"What are you hiding under your fringe?" I retorted, not in the mood for pleasant conversation. She looked affronted (as much as a mouth can look affronted-that's all I could see of her,) but it was her stop, and she got off without a second glance. The strangest thing about her was that I recognised her. I'd met her before, but I can't remember where. Or when.