Chapter 4
Dusk had settled over Shadow Bone like a slow-moving tide, the lavender light from the setting sun seeping through the tall windows of my suite.
Shadows stretched long and thin across the room, wrapping the edges of the walls in quiet calm.
I sat at my desk, staring down at the crystal decanter that held my last ration of blood.
The dark liquid glimmered in the lamplight.
I poured a measure into a glass, the scent metallic and familiar, grounding me in a way little else could.
The first sip burned down my throat, clean and potent, the taste of life and control.
It steadied me, washing away the tension that had been coiled in my chest since the night before.
I’d spent most of the day with Raven and Rene, keeping my voice even and my expression composed while the overseer’s skin grew more pallid by the hour. Raven had tried to make small talk, to pretend things were fine, but the fear in her eyes told the truth neither of us wanted to say aloud.
Now, back in my room, I was grateful for the solitude. The stillness. The absence of him.
I’d avoided Constantine all day, convincing myself I was too busy to cross paths. The truth was simpler—I didn’t want to see him. Not after the way he’d stood in my suite, calm and unshaken while I drowned in a storm I couldn’t name.
He’d likely trained Lilah since then. Of course he had. The thought crawled under my skin. Every death dealer in the compound had probably shown up to watch—everyone except me.
The blood helped, but not enough. I still felt the tightness in my throat, the ache of something I didn’t want to name. I set the empty glass aside, slipped on my leather jacket, and tucked my blade into its usual place at my hip.
My phone buzzed against the table.
A message from Manu.
Julian and I found something. Meet us in the conference room.
Finally, something useful to focus on.
I crossed the room, grabbed my gloves, and opened the door—only to nearly collide with the last person I wanted to see.
“Stalker much?” I snapped, the words out before I could stop them.
Con stood there in the hall, hands tucked behind his back, the picture of composure. His expression didn’t change. “I was just coming to get you,” he said. “Manu has a lead.”
I blinked. “I was just headed down.”
His mouth curved in that infuriating half-smile. “Excellent. We’ll go together.”
I muttered something under my breath and stepped past him into the hallway. The scent of him—cedar, smoke, and iron—clung to the air, distracting in a way that made my pulse stutter.
We walked side by side down the corridor, the quiet between us stretched taut. I could hear the low murmur of conversation from the floors below.
“How did the training go?” I asked finally, the words sharper than I intended.
Con glanced at me, brows lifting slightly. “Lilah needs more vigorous training,” he said. “Her technique is solid, but she overestimates her endurance. The twin fledglings were more of a challenge.”
Something in my chest twisted. I stopped mid-step and turned toward him. “Did you tell her that?”
“Of course,” he said simply, as if the question puzzled him. “She can’t improve if she isn’t aware of her inadequacies.”
I almost choked, half a laugh escaping me despite myself. “Jesus, Con.”
He looked at me, clearly confused by my reaction, but I could feel the corner of my mouth pulling into a reluctant smile.
“You have the most brutal way of motivating people,” I said.
“Honesty isn’t brutality,” he said dryly. “It’s efficiency.”
We resumed walking, the tension between us easing just enough for me to breathe. For a fleeting second, things felt almost normal—like the countless times before when we’d crossed these halls, trading words and unspoken understanding.
The main staircase opened into the foyer, golden light spilling across the polished stone as the last of the sun vanished behind the horizon.
We threaded our way through clusters of vampires and headed toward the conference wing.
I could hear the hushed tones of conversation even before we reached the door—Manu’s voice, smooth and quick, layered with Julian’s quieter tones.
Con reached the door first and pushed it open. The scent of old parchment, dust, and ozone from the artifacts inside met us immediately.
Manu was already seated at the long obsidian table, his phone and a half-unrolled map spread out before him. Julian hovered near the projector, his thin frame backlit by the glow of the display screen, blond hair falling into his eyes. Both of them looked up as we entered.
Con gestured for me to step inside first, his hand brushing the door aside for me. His touch didn’t linger, but the warmth of it followed me into the room.
“Let’s hear what you’ve found,” I said, pulling my jacket tighter around me as I took my seat beside Manu.
And as the lights dimmed and the map flared to life across the screen, I tried to focus on the work—the mission, the clue, the next piece of the puzzle—but I couldn’t quite drown out the echo of Con’s voice in my head.
She can’t improve if she isn’t aware of her inadequacies.
Neither could I, apparently.
And that realization unsettled me more than anything we were about to uncover.
The light from the projector bathed the room in a blue glow, flickering across the long table and catching in the dust motes drifting through the air.
Manu leaned forward, his fingers drumming absently against a half-empty cup of coffee, while Julian stood beside the display, a crackle of static tracing the edges of his voice as he adjusted the brightness.
“Alright,” Julian began, his tone quiet but precise, each word deliberate, “I cross-referenced the markings on the artifact you recovered in Moscow with the glyphs from the records Manu provided. They share a similar root—Coptic, but with a northern inflection. That led us to a set of mirrored runes in the archives from the Quebec coven.”
He tapped a few keys on the tablet, and a grainy image appeared—a photograph of an old cathedral half-consumed by ivy, its spires rising like fangs above the river fog.
“The next piece is there,” he said, zooming in on a section of stone near the base of one of the towers.
“Hidden beneath the old chapel. The structure was built directly over an ancient convergence point. The wards were placed centuries ago, long before the clans began cataloguing artifact sites. But this… this predates everything.”
I felt something tighten in my chest as I leaned closer. “That’s in Quebec City.”
Julian nodded. “Near the lower quarter. The site was converted into a coven stronghold about three hundred years ago.”
A small, wry curve appeared on my lips. “I know. I researched the area when I founded our clan there.”
Julian and Manu turned to me, surprised.
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Shadow Thorn,” I said softly.
“It was my project. I wanted to build a sanctuary—a place for fledglings and civilians to live without constant fear of raids or clan politics. Quebec was perfect. The humans there had a history of tolerance, and the city itself—” I hesitated, a flicker of warmth stirring at the memory, “—it’s beautiful.
Old stone, music in the streets, candlelight in the winter.
If I weren’t sworn to Rene, I’d have stayed there permanently. ”
Manu grinned. “The famous Cassara James—founder, warrior, and now city planner.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”
Con, who had been standing near the far wall with his arms crossed, finally spoke. “You think the artifact was placed there deliberately?”
Julian nodded. “Yes. The records indicate the site once belonged to an early witch coven—the kind that practiced celestial binding rituals. The energy signature from the artifact in Moscow matches what’s buried beneath the chapel floor. Whoever placed it there wanted it hidden in plain sight.”
“Hidden before I founded the clan,” I murmured, shaking my head. “That’s irony for you.”
Manu leaned forward, tracing the lines of the map with one long finger. “There’s another layer to it. The city’s ley lines converge under the old district. If the artifact is what I think it is, it’s feeding off that power to stay dormant. You remove it, and those wards could collapse.”
“So the entire stronghold could destabilize,” I said. “Perfect.”
Julian hesitated before continuing. “That’s not the only risk.
There’s also a record of a protective barrier placed by the original coven.
I think the witches bound part of their essence into the stone.
That’s what’s masking the artifact’s signature.
It only showed up when the energy in Moscow shifted after you removed the previous piece. ”
Con’s gaze flicked toward me. “Meaning our search is triggering something larger each time.”
“Exactly,” Julian said. “Each artifact is part of a network. They’re all linked. Remove one, and it wakes another.”
I exhaled slowly, staring at the web of glowing lines on the map. “And eventually, when they’re all awake…”
“We’ll find the core,” Julian finished quietly.
Silence settled over the room. The soft hum of the projector filled the space, mingling with the subtle creak of the mansion’s old timbers.
Quebec City. The thought of returning there stirred something bittersweet.
I could almost see it—the narrow, cobbled streets, the soft fall of snow over the old market, the bells from the cathedral echoing over the river.
It was the closest thing to peace I’d ever known, and now it was about to become another battlefield.
“I’ll handle the arrangements,” I said finally. “I still have contacts in the city. Shadow Thorn will welcome us, and they’ll know where to start digging.”
Con nodded. “We’ll leave before dawn.”
Manu gathered his papers, muttering under his breath, “You vampires and your timing.”