Shawn flicked through the tome, not caring that he was tearing pages. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he read, desperate for a solution and continuously coming up blank.
“Fucked,” he muttered. “I’m fucked.”
The trickster had him over a barrel; had he known the cost of getting involved with the demon, Shawn wouldn’t have made that blood promise.
It wasn’t supposed to backfire so heavily.
He glanced up at the clock as it struck twelve and threw the book across the room with a scream.
The smell of sulphur caused him to gag.
The demon had come to collect.
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