A new friend of mine finally came by for tea. I invited her weeks ago when we first met, looking forward to the break her unconventional ways would bring from the monotony of London society. Her name is Lime, and I strongly suspect she's a gypsy - isn't that exciting? And I confess, I assumed because she is Romani that she would understand my strange new circumstance, and perhaps have something uplifting to help guide me through my new trials... particularly those pertaining to my demon consort.

But Lime was not as supportive as I thought she would be... in fact, she almost seemed to look with hostility on the idea of my demon altogether, so I dropped the subject and gave her an ample window for escape. I wondered to myself after she left why she should say such unkind things about demons. I came to understand that she had had a bad experience with one in the past but I felt sure that if she had ever met my Asmodeus, she would change her perspective on them a great deal. As far as I could tell, Asmodeus was merely... misunderstood.

That is, I thought these things until the following afternoon, when another friend came calling unexpectedly. Normally when I have company, I send Asmodeus away, or enchant him with sleep. But Mr Jonathan Rose turned up unannounced, in a strange temper, and I had only enough time to banish Asmodeus to the back garden before I could greet Jonathan in the foyer.

I believe I met Jonathan at Lady Kelly's crush last midsummer, and he had taken a special interest in me at the time. He had courted me for a couple of weeks, but when it became clear that my interests lay elsewhere, his visits had slowly tapered off and lately I had heard nothing from him. It seems he had recently heard from a mutual acquaintance that I had a gentleman caller every day, and that there was a rumour I was even living with this stranger. Jonathan had come straight from the club, after having perhaps a little too much to drink and obviously incensed. He had pushed past my servant and demanded to see me, even though they had told him I wasn't in.

Jonathan railed at me. How dare I invite this strange man into my home, people were saying he was foreign and dangerous-looking, and some had even said he was already a known criminal from the very underbelly of society. Did I wish to ruin myself and my father's reputation, he demanded? The more I tried to calm him, the more agitated he became, until finally he was shouting at me that I was behaving a harlot, and where was this stranger I was trolloping around with, as he should very much like to have a word with the bastard.

His blustering quickly ended as Asmodeus materialized in the doorway, drawn by Jonathan's shouting and my pleading. The servants had all withdrawn in fear. A dead silence fell upon the room for a brief moment. Asmodeus lifted his gaze to meet the intruder's, calmly, with the most terrifyingly hostile light blazing within, but his voice was perfectly calm, almost soft, as he said, 'What words do you have, then?'

Jonathan stared for a moment, slack-jawed, as he took in my demon lover's strange appearance, but he quickly recovered himself and demanded to know who Asmodeus was, and what business he thought he had, low-life animal that he was, skulking about with a young woman of my class.

'Jonathan!' I interrupted, petrified by the smoldering hate growing in Asmodeus's eyes. 'Please - you've been drinking. Just leave him alone, you're causing a scene. Please go, we'll talk about this some other time--' But Asmodeus had stalked slowly nearer, taunting the interloper with a smirk.

Jonathan was the one who threw the first punch. He caught Asmodeus suddenly in the jaw, and then Asmodeus was instantly at his throat, the two of them flying across the room and crashing to the floor in a snarling heap. Jonathan let out a sharp cry, and then was silent. In the blink of an eye, Asmodeus had gripped the man's head in his hands and twisted it right off, severing it, pulling it free of his body with the strength of a bear. Blood was everywhere. It sprayed across the walls, began to make a pool in the parlour floor. Perhaps most horrifying of all was Asmodeus' continued air of perfect calm, his breath slow and even, his face displaying not the slightest twinge at the carnage before him.

He dropped the severed head unceremoniously on the floor, stood, and turned to face me tranquilly.

I began to scream.