I am Mac Brennan and that’s the only thing I can remember about myself. Not really why I woke up inside a dumpster. Not really why my right arm is as dark as pitch and protected in glowing crimson tattoos, and definitely not why a vicious death cult is after me.

Actually, that last part isn’t true. I know why the loss of life cult can be after me. It is because I kept that damned woman from them. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but I’d have done it anyway. I simply can’t stand it when ladies get take down, call me traditional. Still, I could tell she’s concealing something behind those devilish eye, and if I want to learn what it is, I’ll need to help her.

My name is Mac Brennan. I have no memory, and I’m a werewolf-hunting, hellfire-flinging version of Faust himself.