Chapter Seven
“The wards are only part of it.”
Ant stood on the front steps of the manor, Able pressed against his left leg, and stared out at the sprawling grounds.
The gardens stretched in beautiful patterns, but beneath the aesthetic beauty lay something far more complex.
Magic hummed through the earth like static electricity, creating an almost visible shimmer in the air.
Viktor moved closer. “What are you seeing?”
“It’s not what I can see as such, it’s what I feel,” Ant corrected.
He descended the steps slowly, letting his magical senses extend outward.
“We already know Claudius can create wards. That’s his gift, and I can understand that.
But there are at least seven distinct magical signatures layered into this property, and they’re all feeding off each other. ”
“That’s not possible. I doubt any of the other vampires here would have the same gift as Claudius – he wouldn’t allow it.”
“Exactly. The vampires we’ve seen so far, apart from Claudius, are all younger than five hundred, so they wouldn’t even have a gift yet.
” Ant walked toward the nearest flower bed, Able keeping pace.
Able was growling, which sounded so out of place in an apparently, peaceful environment. “Easy, boy. I know you don’t like it.”
The moment Ant’s boot touched the garden path, the magical pressure increased tenfold, and he was glad for the thick soles of his footwear.
Images flickered at the edges of his consciousness - flashes of bodies being buried in shallow graves.
None of it was recent, from what Ant could tell.
The clothing on the bodies alone suggested the people died fifty years ago or more.
Focus. You’re not here for them. You’re here for Ronald Finch.
But the magic wouldn’t let him focus. It was clamoring at his mental shields, like a toddler demanding attention. Blood magic. Death magic. Binding magic. Protection magic. All of it twisted together into a chaotic knot that made his temples throb.
“Ant?”
He held up one hand, eyes closed, trying to separate the individual threads. “Give me a minute.”
The protection spells were strongest near the perimeter - that made sense.
Claudius would want the outer defenses to be impenetrable.
But underneath those wards, Ant could feel something older - a form of sacrificial magic - which would explain the dead bodies.
Vampires could feed without killing their donors, but sacrificial magic was the type that needed to be regularly fed.
Without it, it weakened and eventually disappeared.
How many people have died on this property? Looking around, Ant tried to get some idea, but again, his assessment was being interfered with. All he knew with certainty was that too many people had died at the Raven Estate - far too many.
Moving deeper into the gardens, Ant followed the strongest magical current. Viktor shadowed him silently, close enough to grab him if he stumbled. Able whined but stayed at Ant’s side, doing his job.
The pressure built with each step. Ant’s headache sharpened from a dull throb to piercing pain behind his eyes.
Being bombarded by the different layers of magic was like trying to listen to seven rock bands all playing their own songs simultaneously, and all at the same volume.
The effect was overwhelming, making it impossible for Ant to pick out individual components.
“There.” Ant pointed to a stone fountain at the center of the garden. “That’s the focal point.”
Viktor frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like just a fountain.”
“Nothing here is just anything.” Ant approached carefully, extending his magical senses.
The fountain itself, as Viktor had said, was exactly what it appeared to be.
It was carved out of stone, or perhaps it was poured concrete, but it was all in one piece.
It was filled with clear water, and there were even small fish swimming lazily among sparse water lilies whose roots were dangling in the water.
Designed to distract the eye. Crouching down, Ant let his hand hover at the base of the fountain - not touching it, but trying to pinpoint the source of the magic.
Water was a powerful element in itself, but that wasn’t the source of the magic Ant could feel either.
The energy was coming from beneath the fountain, from something old and buried deep in the earth.
There has to be a talisman buried under there.
An object of some kind, charged with magic…
But how? Ant felt a brush of Viktor’s concern through their bond, and the answer clicked.
Claudius couldn’t have done any of that sort of setup alone, however…
He’s had plenty of time to collect talismans, buying them, probably trading for them.
Viktor’s comment about past mages he’d seen Claudius interact with raised another red flag.
He’s probably been building his defenses piece by piece over centuries.
The realization brought a fresh wave of pressure. Ant’s nose itched and then burned. He touched his upper lip, and his fingers came away red.
“Fuck.” Viktor was there instantly, hands hovering as if he wasn’t sure Ant even wanted to be touched - probably worried he’d overload Ant even further.
“That’s it. You’ve got to stop. We’re done.
You’re going back inside, or better yet, we get in our damn car and get out of here. I’m all for that option.”
“I’m fine.” Ant wiped the blood away with his sleeve, but his hand trembled slightly. The nosebleed was his body’s way of telling him he’d pushed too hard, tried to process too much magical input too fast. “I’m just overloaded. The magic here is…”
“Too fucking much,” Viktor finished. “Come on. You need to lie down, at least.”
“I need to finish mapping the defenses.” But even as Ant said it, another wave of disorientation washed over him.
Images flickered - not a full scene reading, thank goodness, as Ant could barely stand.
But he was getting fragments - the magic in the area was so strong he didn’t even have to touch anything.
But glimpses of people screaming, a man on his knees begging for his life, and the underlying image of blood seeping into the base of the fountain were stuck in Ant’s brain, and he knew he would never forget them. Sacrifices. They made sacrifices here.
“Viktor, the fountain…”
“I don’t give a shit about the fountain. You’re bleeding.”
“Minimally.” Ant’s academic detachment was slipping, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.
Sorting through the layered magic was like trying to swim through concrete.
Every breath required conscious effort. “I just need to understand the network. If we have to leave quickly, it will help to know where the weak points are.”
“There are no weak points. That’s the whole fucking point of Claudius’s defenses.” Viktor gripped Ant’s elbow, steadying him. “You’re done. We’re going back.”
Ant opened his mouth to explain, but another nosebleed started, and he could feel it was heavier this time. Able pressed harder against his leg, whining, trying to get between him and the fountain base. He’s right. You’ve pushed too far.
The magic in the grounds wasn’t giving him useful information anyway. For all the clamor, it was just noise. Ant couldn’t focus on Ronald Finch’s murder if he was drowning in the ambient trauma of the countless victims who’d died long before Finch was even born.
“Fine.” Ant let Viktor turn him back toward the manor. “But I need to call Bridget first and check in. She’ll be waiting to hear, and I want to tell her what you overheard about the shell corporations.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. No bars. No signal. Not even emergency service access.
“Well, that’s not helpful.”
“The dampeners.” Viktor’s jaw tightened. “Claudius clearly doesn’t want anyone communicating with the outside world without his permission.”
Ant tried anyway, pulling up Bridget’s contact. The call failed immediately. He tried texting. The message hung in limbo, spinning endlessly without sending.
Viktor’s right. It would make sense for Claudius to control all of the information flowing in and out of the estate.
“Come on.” Viktor guided him back along the garden path. “I have an idea that might help, although I’d rather we just went into the house, or better yet, the car. That’s closer.”
“I need to get in touch with Bridget if I can.”
They walked in silence, Viktor supporting him on one side and Able keeping close on the other. Ant’s headache had settled into a steady, nauseating pulse. The ambient magic still pressed against his own energies, but the farther they moved from the fountain, the more manageable it became.
Viktor led him toward the edge of the property, where the manicured gardens gave way to the wild forest. The magical pressure dropped noticeably - the wards were designed to keep people out, not in, so the ones on the boundaries faced outward.
Ant pulled out his phone again. Still no signal, but maybe… He waved his phone in the air above his head and then looked at it again. One bar flickered into existence. Got it.
He typed quickly, before the signal could vanish: Dig into Raven shell corps. Track the money. Find the Raven lawyer. He pressed send, willing the message to go through.
The message hung for agonizing seconds. Then: Sending...
“Come on,” Ant muttered.
The bar flickered. Died. Came back.
Delivered.
Ant exhaled. “She got it. The message went through.”
“Good.” Viktor pulled him away from the property line. “Now we’re really going back inside before Claudius notices we’re poking around his perimeter.”
The signal died completely as they moved back toward the manor. Ant pocketed his phone and focused on breathing through the headache. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, but he could feel the dried blood crusted on his upper lip. Bridget would not be impressed.
“If you’re wondering, yes, you look like shit,” Viktor said, reading his mind.
“Thank you for that assessment.”
“I’m serious. You need water and painkillers before you even think about touching Ronald Finch’s room.”
Ant didn’t argue. Viktor was overprotective at times, but in this case, he was right.
Conducting a scene reading while already compromised would be dangerous and potentially useless.
He needed to approach Finch’s murder with a clear head, not while his brain was already trying to process the magical equivalent of a rock festival.
They climbed the front steps. A guard Ant didn’t recognize stood by the entrance, watching them with expressionless black eyes.
“We didn’t want the dog shitting on the carpets,” Viktor said flatly.
The guard didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink, just watching as they passed him and headed into the manor.
It was better inside the stone walls. The oppressive weight of the external magic eased slightly, replaced by the more controlled energy of Claudius’s wards. They were still uncomfortable - very ham-fisted in Ant’s opinion - but he could think again without feeling like his skull might split open.
They made their way back to their suite. Viktor locked the door behind them and immediately went to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth.
“Sit, babe.”
Ant sat on the edge of the bed while Viktor cleaned the blood from his face. Able jumped up beside him, resting his head on Ant’s thigh.
“The fountain’s the key,” Ant said quietly.
“Whatever Claudius has buried underneath there is powering the secondary defenses. The wards are his, but everything else - the dampeners, the enhanced protections, and probably the lockdown capability, too - that’s all coming from objects he’s collected and buried over the years. ”
“Can you break them?”
“Theoretically.” Ant smoothed the fur between Able’s ears.
“But it would take time, and touching them in any way would definitely alert Claudius to what we’re doing.
It’s probably best to gather what evidence we can first, and then, if the opportunity arises, neutralize his defenses when we’re ready to leave. ”
“Assuming we can leave by that point.” Viktor was clearly still thinking they should’ve already left.
“We will get out.” Ant was certain of that.
“Claudius is arrogant and paranoid, but he’s not stupid.
Despite what you heard, killing a Justiciary investigator would bring down more trouble than his layers of protection could handle.
I’ve no doubt he’ll posture and threaten, but ultimately, he’ll let us walk out. ”
“Unless he panics and decides it’s better to apologize for our deaths after the fact.”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” Ant touched Viktor’s wrist, and Viktor quickly covered his hand with his own.
“Bridget has the message. If we don’t report in within a reasonable timeframe, she’ll escalate.
She’ll drag the entire Justiciary down here by their balls if they don’t take her concerns seriously.
Claudius might not understand my sister’s nature, but we do, so hang onto that. ”
Viktor tossed the bloody washcloth aside and cupped Ant’s face with his other hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t like seeing you bleeding.”
“Headache. Mild nausea. Nothing that won’t pass.
” Ant closed his eyes and leaned into Viktor’s palm.
“The magic here is…it’s so hard to describe.
Try to imagine standing in the middle of a motorway intersection during rush hour.
Or in the middle of a huge ball of yarn.
I can’t focus on any single thread because they’re all tangled together. ”
“Then don’t. Focus on Finch. Just Finch. Forget the rest.”
“That’s the plan.” Ant opened his eyes. “But I needed to understand the external defenses first, and now I do. The fountain is the anchor. Everything radiates from there. If things go badly, I know I can blow that up, and that…that would help.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Viktor pressed a kiss to Ant’s forehead. “Rest for ten minutes, and then I’ll find out if they’re going to feed us here. It’s well past lunchtime, which we didn’t have, and we could both do with something to eat. Once that’s done, then we’ll go solve the murder.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a knock on the door, and Able growled.