Chapter 20
The conference room door closed behind us with a heavy thud, the echo lingering in the dim hallway.
The mansion felt quieter now, as if the news we’d just uncovered had seeped into its old stone bones.
Flickering sconces threw long, jagged shadows along the walls, stretching ahead of us like paths leading in too many directions.
Con walked beside me in silence at first. His boots made almost no sound on the marble, his posture as precise as ever—shoulders squared, gaze forward, every movement deliberate. The low hum of my power stirred under my skin, still feeding off the strain of the last hour.
When we reached the landing overlooking the main foyer, I stopped.
The chandeliers below glimmered dimly, their light scattering gold across the marble tiles.
From here, the whole mansion looked deceptively calm.
But beneath the sheen, the clan was splitting, our enemies were evolving, and now the humans—our supposed allies—had joined the list of problems.
“So,” I said, cutting through the quiet, “where do we start?”
Con turned slightly, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “We don’t start anywhere until we have Julian’s next lead on the artifact.”
I folded my arms, not surprised, still annoyed. “I’m not putting the next piece above this, Con. We still need to find out who’s helping Valerian.”
He inclined his head, conceding the point without really giving ground. “We’re not ignoring it. But the artifact remains the primary objective. The Pentacoris might be tied to the experiments. That could be the real reason Valerian wants it—to stabilize his army.”
“That’s a reach,” I said, though some part of me agreed. “Humans don’t understand real magic. They copy what they don’t grasp.”
Con met my gaze, the gold flecks in his eyes glinting in the light. “And sometimes imitation is more dangerous than expertise.”
I frowned, leaning against the cold railing. “So what’s the plan? We just wait for Julian to dig up another location?”
“Partly,” he said. “He’ll find the next piece soon enough. Until then, we use the time to chase the military lead. Quietly.”
I arched a brow. “Quietly. You mean off record.”
A wry smile touched his mouth. “You make it sound illegal.”
“Because it probably is,” I said. “William was clear—PSO oversight, full transparency.”
“William was clear because he’s afraid,” Con replied evenly. “If we report every step, the humans will catch the scent. And if this is military-backed, the moment they know we’re digging, the trail disappears.”
I hated that he was right.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms tighter. “Then what’s the next move?”
Con’s gaze drifted toward the far end of the corridor, where moonlight sliced through the tall windows in pale beams. “Julian mentioned personnel records—missing operatives, classified disappearances. We start there. Someone’s moving bodies off the grid, and military transport leaves traces, no matter how buried. ”
“Which means data theft,” I said dryly. “Hacking government systems. Meddling in human operations.”
He shrugged, the hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’ve done worse.”
I snorted. “Not lately.”
His smile widened by a fraction before fading. “We’ll have Julian focus on the data while we gather intelligence from field contacts. You still have connections in Quebec’s old networks, don’t you?”
“Some,” I admitted. “Smugglers, mercenaries, the usual assortment of bad decisions who owe me favors. They might know if any black-market gear or biotech’s been moving through their routes.”
“Good,” Con said. “If the humans are working with Valerian, they’ll leave tracks. Magical residue. Shipments. Money changing hands.”
“And if we find those tracks?” I asked.
His tone went colder, softer. “Then we find the source. And we burn it.”
The simplicity of it made something twist low in my chest. It wasn’t a threat. It was a vow—and I knew he meant every word.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the muted hum of the lights and the distant roll of thunder outside.
“You know,” I said finally, “this would almost be easier if you weren’t always right.”
He glanced down at me, his eyes softening a shade. “You could always stop arguing with me, Cass.”
I gave him a crooked smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but the flicker of warmth in his face vanished as quickly as it came. “Get some rest. We leave before dawn. The sooner we start tracking these leads, the better.”
I hesitated. “You’re not planning on sleeping, are you?”
“Not tonight,” he said.
I nodded slowly, pushing off the railing. “Then I’ll see you in a few hours.”
We didn’t get the chance to part ways.
The air changed.
A subtle shift.
Pressure dropping.
A vibration in the wards humming through the old stone.
Then—
Laughter.
Not loud.
Not forced.
But unmistakable.
A smooth, cold, velvet-edged sound that slid through the corridors like smoke.
Valerian.
It scraped down my spine before I fully registered it, threading through every inch of Shadow Bone like invisible claws. I stopped mid-step, my power rising instinctively, crackling under my skin.
Below us in the foyer, the vampires who’d been murmuring in tight clusters went still. Heads lifted. Conversations died mid-word.
Valerian’s laughter rolled again—this time echoing off the high vaulted ceiling as though the very walls were amused. Shadows shivered across the archways. The chandelier above the foyer flickered violently, each crystal trembling as if it might drop.
Someone below whispered, “What was that?”
Another hissed, “Magic, it’s a—”
“Warlock,” a third voice cut in, strained. “He can’t breach the wards.”
But they all knew.
This wasn’t a physical incursion. No doors blew open. No scent rode the air. No footsteps. No presence we could pin down.
This was projection—and only one warlock in our world could push his will through fortified vampire wards like this.
Valerian’s voice followed the laughter—smooth, venomous, and utterly without origin.
It came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Oh, Shadow Bone… look at you.”
His words slithered across the minds in the foyer; a few fledglings flinched, clutching the banisters or each other.
“So tense. So frightened. So… divided.”
Con’s hand was already on his sword, eyes blazing gold with a dangerous rim of red. He didn’t look at me—his focus was locked on the center of the foyer, where the air shimmered like heat on stone. An image coalescing. Or threatening to.
Valerian’s chuckle deepened.
“Delicious, really. A house built on loyalty… cracking at the seams.”
A ripple of unease moved through the clan below. Even the senior death dealers bristled, fangs bared, unsure where to aim.
“Do not move,” Con barked, his voice dropping into that command tone that made even the walls listen. His hand lifted slightly—not touching me, but close enough to block any impulse I had to step forward.
Valerian’s projection sharpened—a ripple of shadow forming the outline of a face along the far wall. Not fully formed, not solid, but clear enough—the gleam of pale eyes, the cruel twist of a mouth.
“Cassara…”
My name slid out of him with a softness that made my stomach knot.
Every vampire in the foyer turned toward me at once—fear, shock, and morbid curiosity flashing across their features.
Con stepped in front of me instantly, a barrier of steel and barely leashed violence.
Valerian’s disembodied mouth curved.
“Always surrounded by admirers, aren’t you? Though some of them…” the smile widened, “…are far more intriguing than others.”
My power surged in answer, heat flooding my veins. Con’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade.
Valerian hummed, pleased with himself.
“Oh, how I love watching discord grow. Do keep squabbling amongst yourselves. It makes my work so much easier.”
And then—
The projection collapsed.
No dramatic flare.
No shockwave.
Just a sudden implosion of shadow folding inward, leaving cold air and ringing quiet behind.
The foyer erupted into hissing whispers.
Con exhaled slowly, violence coiled in every line of him. “He’s testing the boundaries,” he said under his breath.
I swallowed hard. “And he found a weakness.”
We stood there together above the chaos below—the clan splintering, a warlock laughing at us from a distance, the storm tightening around Shadow Bone.
Valerian hadn’t just taunted us.
He’d announced that the real game had started.
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