The boy and the witch entered the warehouse. The two vampires and the warlock, who'd been standing guard outside were all dead. He'd killed them, even though he had made a promise long ago to never kill again. A promise that he kept with such fierceness, that he'd had to make sure to be compelled into killing everyone that got in his way.
He looked around, while he absentmindedly licked the blood off his fingers. There was a door at the other end of the large empty room and a flight of stairs led up to a ledge that apparently led to nowhere.
"I know you better than that," he mumbled and went straight for the stairs, "Wonder if you've placed any traps?"
His witch followed close behind him, as he walked up the stairs. They then followed the ledge until it came to an end.
"There's something here, "the witch told him and he flatted himself against the wall to let her past.
She let her finger tips wander over the wall at the end of the ledge, her eyes closed, and she was mumbling words he didn't understand.
A door appeared and she drew back, looking exhausted. "It was a strong spell."
"I'll go on alone, "he told her and opened the door.
He went inside, and blinked in the dark. His eyes quickly adjusted, though, and he was able to make out the four caskets that were placed around the room.
He walked over to one and opened it. The body of a man lay inside, arms by its sides and a dagger sticking out of its chest. He grabbed the hilt of the dagger with both hands.
"The curse must not be broken, "he said and pulled out the dagger.