Shawn crouched down, his fingers touching the small drop of blood. It was still wet, meaning his prey was still close enough for him to find. He listened to the sounds around him. There was nothing out of the ordinary, some birds chirping, the occasional passing car. Nothing to suggest that a demon was lurking somewhere in the shadows. He peered around the rooftop, his keen blue eyes searching for another drop of blood, something to suggest where the demon had gone. Save for that drop of blood, the rooftop showed no signs of where his prey had gone. He cursed under his breath. This job was just getting harder by the minute. It had all started three days ago when a man wearing a black cloak had entered his shop. There was nothing too special about him, save for the gruff voice, and the fact that he had known Shawn's pawn shop was just a front for his demon-hunting business. Not many people had known that demons were real, and even less people knew that Shawn hunted them. The job was simple: find the Ishtarl demon, cut its head off and then burn the body. Unfortunately for Shawn, the demon was a little more crafty than he had expected and had slipped away, killing a couple of civilians in its escape, which put Shawn in a tough spot when the cops arrived. He had managed to talk his way out of it, but the demon knew that he was after it and had found itself a new disguise. He tracked it down again this morning, only to barely graze it with his crossbow before it got away. He had been scouring rooftops for traces of the demon ever since. He made his way towards the edge of the roof, peering down in to the alley below. There were a couple of pieces of clothing hanging out to dry, maybe some of the people that lived there had seen where the demon had gone? It wasn't much to go on, but it was all he had.