Raven's Watch: Secrets Of The Blud Diary

Prologue

Johnathan hummed to himself, moving the mop rhythmically as music played from a single earpiece. He glanced down the fluorescent-lit hallway at the brown door at the end, wondering when George would finally leave his office.

"Must be easy," he muttered, shifting his gaze to the shine of the marble tiles beneath him. His reflection stared back: a pale face with deep brown eyes and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Envy stirred in his chest, making him shift uncomfortably.

He sighed, the sound soft in the empty hallway as he pushed the mop over his reflection, trying to scrub away the feeling along with the dirt.

A loud click echoed through the hallway, followed by the soft groan of a door and the eerie flickering of the florescent lamps. Jonathan’s head snapped toward the sound. At the end of the hallway, a slender figure stood with one hand on the door handle.

"Still at it?" George asked, his blue eyes catching the shine of the tiles.

"You know how it is," Johnathan muttered with a tight smile, quickly looking away from the sharpness in George’s gaze. His fingers curled tighter around the mop, his heart racing.

"Sorry for keeping you so late." The click of the lock echoed in the cold air as George sealed his office, his voice as casual as ever.

Sorry? How many times had he heard that? People like George didn’t really care; their apologies were as hollow as the footsteps that trailed them down the hall. The whole lot of them never looked back.

"Don’t worry about it," Jonathan said, forcing a laugh as he turned his back, hiding the strain in his smile.

"You know, let me make it up to you." George’s voice echoed through the hallway, accompanied by the steady knock of his shoes against the tiles, the sound amplifying the hallway’s size. "It’s Friday after all."

Johnathan stole a glance, his eyes widening. The obsidian suit hugged George’s frame, gleaming as if it had just been pressed, untouched by the day’s wear. Too perfect. Almost unreal.

"You don’t need to," Johnathan shook his head, stepping aside to let George pass. "There are still a few more places I need to clean. Don’t want to waste your time."

The echo of George’s shoes stopped, and he stood just an arm’s reach from Jonathan. A smile stretched across his pale face—a smile that seemed warm, but something cold slithered beneath it, crawling over Johnathan’s skin.

Johnathan swallowed painfully, his heart thrumming against his chest. A sheen of sweat broke out on his brow, and his grip on the mop tightened, the wood creaking faintly under his fingers.

"Come on, it’s Friday. You’ve earned a little break, haven’t you?"

For a brief moment, Jonathan shuddered. He caught a quiver at the edge of George’s lips, something unnatural, but he looked away before he could think too much about it.

He took a step back. “I’m sorry, but…” Jonathan fidgeted with the mop, then scratched the back of his head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

George’s smile stretched further, baring his canines at the edges of his lips. “I insist,” he said, the words low, more command than offer. His pupils, once a calm blue, darkened, coldness creeping into his gaze as if drawing all warmth from the hallway.

Jonathan swallowed hard. His hands grew slick with sweat. What was going on with George today? He had always been so laid back, but now—now he was acting strange, pushy. Was this what happened when authority went to someone’s head, when they realized how easily they could control people like Jonathan? Or was there something more to this?

Something that sent a sickening aura through the air.

Jonathan’s chest tightened. He heaved a sigh. What did it matter? At the end of the day, he was still just Jonathan. A man stuck cleaning up after others, like he’d always been. But this—this didn’t feel like a normal opportunity. Still, what choice did he have? It was too late to complain, too late to turn back now. If he passed this up, it wouldn’t change anything.

"Alright." Jonathan tossed the gloves into the bucket of water. “So… where exactly are we going?”