"In one type of mythology, he's the Devil," Daniel answers grimly. "As in singular. Not that there aren't dozens of other sorts in different branches and interpretations and religions, but." He clips off with a vague wave of a hand. "Point is, he's powerful and dangerous and ruthless, and also very real as opposed to, say, fiction or mythology, which is the general common assumption."

He doesn't want to scare her, but the warning is, he feels, pretty much necessary, if only to keep people on the alert.

"And he's in Manhattan. Physically he looks human but he's - he's not. He's really not." He grimaces, recalling the prickle of horrible darkened wrongness he'd seen shrouded about the man before he'd even gleaned what sort of terrible thing he might be. "Just as a word of warning. I didn't realize what he was when I met him, and that nearly cost me." He rubs one arm, rueful and self-conscious, not quite managing a smile to even out the sincerity of his warning.