It almost felt too fast, even for their vampiric senses. It was a familiar scenario: a seedy hole-in-the-wall where the smoke hung like mist that never dissipated, the sharp sting of alcohol, and the acrid stench of smoking cigars pervaded the dim, seedy establishment. Appearing no different than a tourist a little out of their depth, Sypha's quarry had been something of a prominent mafioso; a kingpin with no equal. There hadn't been a fight, and the man's eyes had skimmed over the bar, searching for someone. Yet, when they'd been found, the mafioso's cigar slipped from his lips and he fell to the floor with a cry, violently seizing up as the demon frantically sought an exit, nearly needing to hospitalize the clueless host.

It was only when Sypha searched for that demon's nightmare that they found it.