Through a sliver of light sneaking in around old curtains, Joseph stared at the deserted workshop, taking in the scattered tools, toppled tables, and the tattered work gloves drenched in a pool of blood. Someone else found his target first.

Blood stains stretched across the floor, evidence the body had been dragged. It was a rush job, no sign of professionalism anywhere in the dark room. Perhaps a botched robbery, or maybe a lower demon had sensed the power flowing through the target’s chest and couldn’t resist a snack.

Joseph didn’t really care who had found the target first, but his warlock employer probably did, so Joseph got to work. A spotless report would make up for the failure–hopefully.

Using gloved hands, Joseph flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. So the perpetrator at least had an understanding of electricity and plans. Meaning they weren’t one of the lesser demons. It also ruled out a freak attack or a burglary gone wrong.

Joseph worked quickly, studying the room and searching for more insight. No fur of a werewolf or shifter, no odd blood of a supernatural, no drained target stashed away after a vampire had finished with them.

A pit formed in Joseph’s gut as he continued not to find useful information for his employer. Now he needed to find the body just to prove that someone powerful hadn’t devoured his heart for heightened abilities. The warlock coven would want to know if someone else was playing their dangerous game. 

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