Chapter 19
The corridor grew darker as we neared Rene’s door. The sconces along the walls burned low, their light shivering across carved stone and portraits of former leaders staring down with ageless disapproval.
No one lingered here. Not anymore.
By the time we reached the entrance to Rene’s private suite, even Val’s confident stride had slowed. He and Quinn exchanged a brief look—the kind soldiers shared before a battle neither of them wanted.
“We’ll leave you here,” Val said quietly. “The fewer who know what state he’s in, the better.”
Con gave a curt nod. “Keep the corridors clear. No one comes near this door without my permission.”
Val inclined his head and turned away, Quinn falling into step beside him. Their footsteps faded into the gloom, leaving only the crackle of firelight from behind the heavy doors.
Con hesitated for a heartbeat, then lifted a hand and knocked once. The sound thudded dully, swallowed by the thick wood.
A few seconds later, the door opened just enough for Raven to appear.
She looked wrecked. The polished veneer she usually wore—the dark lipstick, razor gaze, and coiled predator’s poise—had dulled.
Strands of black hair had slipped free of her braid, her clothes were rumpled, shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes.
Even her magic felt thin, like a candle fighting to stay lit.
“Finally,” she murmured, voice low and frayed. She stepped back to let us in. “He’s sleeping again. Don’t wake him unless you have to.”
The room was dim, curtains drawn to block what little daylight bled through the storm. The air smelled of burnt sage and blood—the old kind, thick and metallic, the sort used in rituals. Candles burned on the dresser, their flames steady and pale.
Rene lay on the great four-poster bed, as still as carved stone. His skin had lost its usual warm tone, replaced by a gray cast. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were deeper, his lips almost colorless.
Con’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer. “How long has he been like this?”
“Since dawn,” Raven said softly. “He woke once. Long enough to tell me to keep everyone out. Then he lost consciousness again.”
I glanced at the bedside table. Three empty vials lay scattered across the polished surface—blood infusions, judging by the lingering scent. “Has he fed?”
Raven shook her head. “Not enough. He can’t hold it. His body rejects everything we try. Even my blood doesn’t help anymore.”
Her voice caught on that last word, and she looked away, swallowing hard.
Con studied Rene for a long moment, his expression unreadable, hands curling into fists at his sides. “He’s fading,” he said quietly.
Raven dipped her chin in a jerky nod. “I’ve run every test I can think of. It’s not alchemical. Not purely magical either. It’s something else.”
“Maybe it’s similar to what they’re using on the enhanced humans,” I murmured.
She looked up quickly, eyes narrowing. “You saw them?”
I nodded. “They ambushed us after the cave. There were dozens. Faster, stronger, disciplined. We barely got out with the artifact.”
Con’s voice dropped, dangerous and controlled. “And they knew exactly what they were after.”
Raven’s mouth thinned. “Then it’s worse than I thought.”
I looked back at Rene. The rise and fall of his chest was barely visible. The man who had led our kind for centuries—the immortal king of the vampires—looked fragile in a way I’d never believed possible.
My phone buzzed, the vibration abrupt in the hush. I pulled it from my jacket and glanced at the message.
Julian.
Need you in conference room. Now. Found something.
“I have to go,” I said.
Con lifted his head, questioning, and I held the screen out for him to read. He offered a nod, then turned to Raven. “We’ll be back. Don’t let anyone in.”
“Like I’d let anyone near him,” she muttered, but her voice was soft, protective.
We slipped out, the door closing behind us with a muted thud. The walk back to the central wing felt longer than it should have.
When we reached the conference room, Julian was already there. He stood near the table, surrounded by stacks of open files and digital maps projected across the surface. His dark eyes lifted as we entered, sharpened by focus.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual dry humor.
I pulled the artifact from my bag and set it gently on the table. Its dull golden sheen caught the overhead light, the runes etched across its surface pulsing.
“Another one,” Julian said, leaning in. “Same material, same markings. It matches the others.”
“It’s another piece of the Pentacoris,” Con said.
Julian nodded. “But that’s not why I called you here.
” He pushed a folder across the table toward us, the pages thick with reports and photos—grainy surveillance shots, military schematics, autopsy notes.
“This is about the enhanced humans. I've gone through all of the evidence you sent from the lab you crashed.”
I leaned forward, scanning the first page. Medical records. Genetic maps. Neural interface diagrams that looked like they’d been ripped from a classified defense project rather than any vampire archive.
Julian tapped one image—a microchip embedded near the spine of a corpse. “They’re not test subjects anymore,” he said quietly. “They’re soldiers.”
He looked up, voice dropping. “And there are a lot more of them than we thought.”
Julian fanned the documents across the table, the scattered pages covered in maps, images, and medical data that made my stomach knot. The photos were ugly—bodies, diagrams of implants, lists of names and ranks.
“Military personnel have been disappearing for years,” he said, tone flat but urgent.
“Most of the files I’ve uncovered are classified.
On paper, they’re MIA—lost during missions, accidents, training incidents.
But if you cross-reference the disappearances with regions tied to known supernatural activity…
” He tapped the table, and the projection shifted to a map dotted with red marks. “They line up almost perfectly.”
I frowned, leaning closer. “You think they’re being recruited?”
Julian’s gaze flicked to mine. “Or taken.” He exhaled, fingers sliding through his hair. “Either way, they’re selecting viable candidates—strong, disciplined, already conditioned for combat. It’s the perfect base for what they’re building.”
“Or both,” I said quietly. “Recruit the willing. Steal the rest.”
He nodded once. “Could be. But there’s a bigger problem—this isn’t a purely scientific operation. There’s a magical component woven into every enhancement I’ve examined. Someone with serious transmutation knowledge is stabilizing the process.”
Con’s brows drew together. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning,” Julian said grimly, “that either a witch or a warlock is involved.”
The name slipped out before I could stop it. “Valerian.”
Julian’s expression hardened. He hesitated, then shook his head.
“Possibly. But not alone. He couldn’t sustain this on his own.
He doesn’t have the resources to acquire what’s needed, and these soldiers—these enhanced humans—they’re being produced on an industrial scale.
That takes infrastructure, labs, transport, funding from someone with real influence. ”
Con’s tone went flint-hard. “Someone on our side of the veil.”
“Exactly,” Julian said. “Someone within the supernatural world isn’t just experimenting—they’re scaling up.”
The thought made my skin crawl. The constellation of red dots glowing on the map looked like an infection.
I straightened, folding my arms. “Could Ursula or the coven be involved?”
Julian hesitated, but Con answered first. “No. Not Ursula.” His voice carried a rare certainty. “She fears Valerian too much to work with him. She wouldn’t take that risk.”
I met his gaze and nodded slowly. “Agreed. Ursula might flirt with the line, but she doesn’t cross it without a safety net. Valerian isn’t one.”
Julian tapped another photo—an image of a man with mechanical veins threaded through his neck. “Then the question becomes—Who is helping him?”
The silence that followed was heavy. Whoever it was, they weren’t just building soldiers. They were building a war machine.
Con broke the quiet. “We need to find out who Valerian’s working with,” he said.
My gaze slid to him, and despite everything—the fatigue, the rawness, the ache he always seemed to drag with him—I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my mouth. “I’ve been saying that from the beginning.”
A hint of a smile touched his lips, quick and subtle. “And you were right,” he said.
The simple admission hit harder than I wanted it to—quiet acknowledgment from a man who rarely conceded anything.
Julian stacked the papers into a neater pile, sliding the top sheet toward me. “I’ll keep tracking the supply lines and see who’s bankrolling this.”
The low buzz of the conference room lights filled the space as I stared down at the map.
Every red dot felt like a match head waiting to spark, and for the first time since returning to Shadow Bone, I could feel the storm building again—something bigger than the clans, bigger than any internal power struggle.
I met Con’s eyes, and the gold there caught the light, unwavering.
“We’ll need authorization,” he said quietly.
He reached into his coat, pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his contacts with the same focus he used in combat.
“Who are you calling?” I asked, though I already knew.
“William,” he said. “If we’re going to dig into human organizations, we need clearance. PSO has eyes everywhere. I’d rather not start a political war before the real one.”
He hit the contact and set the phone on the table, pressing speaker. The rhythmic buzz of the ringing filled the room, each tone underlining the tension coiled in the air.
Julian crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall, watching silently. I stood beside Con, arms folded, the glow of the artifact still pulsing near the corner of the table.
The ringing cut off. A familiar, clipped voice answered. “Hello.”
“William,” Con said, tone measured and professional. “It’s Constantine.”
A pause on the other end. “You don’t usually call me directly. I assume this isn’t a social check-in.”
“No,” Con replied. “We retrieved the artifact, but we encountered more of the enhanced humans. They’re organized. There are signs of military involvement.”
The line stayed quiet for several seconds. I could almost hear William thinking, his careful mind running through possibilities, contingencies, fallout.
When he spoke again, his tone was slower, more deliberate. “That’s a serious accusation, Constantine. You’re certain about the military link?”
“Yes,” Con said. “Julian’s been compiling evidence along with all the information we obtained from the lab. Personnel records, missing operatives, genetic data—it all points to a larger structure. If humans are creating augmented soldiers, someone in authority is enabling it.”
“Or looking the other way,” I added.
William exhaled, the sound rough through the speaker. “You realize that investigating human organizations falls under PSO jurisdiction. If you push too hard, you could blow up every treaty we’ve spent decades holding together.”
Con’s gaze flicked briefly toward me before returning to the phone. “I’m aware. But we can’t ignore this. We’ve seen these enhanced humans in the field—they’re not prototypes. They’re deployment-ready. Someone is weaponizing them, and they already know we exist.”
The silence dragged again. Even through the static, I could feel William weighing risk against necessity.
Finally, he said, “You have my authorization to proceed. But understand this, Constantine—these humans fall under PSO law. If you move against them without coordination, it becomes an act of aggression.”
“We’ll proceed carefully,” Con said. “You’ll be informed of everything we do regarding them.”
“See that I am,” William replied. His voice softened by a fraction, though the edge remained. “If what you’re saying is accurate, we’re staring at a new kind of war. And if we’re not careful, we’ll be fighting it on their terms.”
Con’s jaw tightened. “Then we change the terms.”
A brief pause, then a humorless snort. “You always did prefer the hard way.”
The line clicked, and the call ended.
The sudden quiet in the room felt heavier than before. The hum of the overhead lights seemed louder, pressing at the edges of my senses. Con picked up his phone and slipped it back into his pocket without looking at either of us.
“Well,” I said at last, breaking the tension, “this should get interesting.”
Julian huffed under his breath, gathering his notes. “Interesting is one word. I’d go with suicidal.”
Con leaned back in his chair, eyes distant but burning. “Maybe. But if humans are building soldiers stronger than us, we can’t afford to stay blind. We cut this off before it erupts.”
The artifact’s golden light flickered once more across the polished table, catching the hard line of his jaw and the quiet fire in his gaze.
And even though none of us said it aloud, we were all thinking the same thing.
The humans weren’t experimenting anymore.
They were getting ready for war.