It’s a humid New Orleans night. In the early spring air there is the dampness from the Mississippi, the smell of coffee from the cafe Du Monde, the scent of spicy gumbo, and wildness in the air that no other city has. Among the throngs of people walking here and there savoring the pleasure of Bourbon Street and beyond, immortal warriors walk. Savoring the night themselves, they hunt for the Daimons preying on human souls.