Let Sleeping Vampires Lie Chapter 2
Con and I stood in the quiet tension that followed Edward’s departure when my phone buzzed. The vibration cut through the air like a knife. I slipped it from my pocket, expecting another update from Raven or Rene.
Instead, Julian’s name glowed on the screen.
Julian—I found something. Conference room now.
A spark of cautious hope slid through me, easing the coil of power in my chest.
“Julian?” Con asked.
I nodded. “He says he’s got something.”
Con didn’t waste a second. “Let’s go.”
The foyer had mostly emptied, but Siris and his group made no effort to hide their interest as we crossed the space. I kept my gaze ahead, refusing to give them more fuel. Con stayed close, matching my pace with fluid precision while scanning the room for lingering threats.
The tension in the mansion followed us like a shadow.
By the time we reached the conference room door, I had my magic tamped down to a quiet simmer. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Julian was already standing near the long table, laptop open and glowing with several windows layered over one another. His pale eyes were bright, almost feverish with the kind of adrenaline only hackers got from uncovering secrets.
He looked up the moment he sensed us enter, practically vibrating with excitement.
“What is it?” I asked, crossing the room.
“I think I found another piece.” His words tumbled out fast. “Not the exact location, but something close.”
My pulse quickened. “Where is it?”
Julian ran a hand through his blond hair, sending a strand falling over his forehead. “I can’t pinpoint the seller. Not yet. But the artifact itself… has surfaced. Somewhere in the black-market channels I’ve been monitoring.”
Con moved closer, arms folding as he leaned over Julian’s shoulder to study the screen. “Show us.”
Julian tapped several keys, pulling up a grainy image first. It looked like a photo taken from a hidden camera—an ornate box partially wrapped in dark cloth. The edges of a metallic design peeked through, familiar.
My breath caught. “That’s the same pattern as the others.”
“Exactly,” Julian said, eyes shining. “The listing went up three hours ago. Private sale. Invitation only. The description was vague, but the symbols match what we’ve been tracking since you retrieved the first piece. Whoever has it is trying to move it discreetly.”
“Where was the listing traced from?” Con asked.
Julian grimaced. “That’s the problem. The seller is bouncing signals across half the globe. Standard for black-market relic trading, but this one feels organized. Professional. And expensive.”
I studied the image again. Something about the gleam of the metal, the etching along the curve, made my skin prickle. Another piece of the same cursed puzzle Dimitri and Valerian were hunting.
“Do we know how soon the sale goes live?” I asked.
“Auction starts in two days. Could be sooner if the seller accepts a private offer.”
Two days. Not much time. Barely enough to prepare, especially with internal clan politics spiraling and Valerian looming like a storm cloud.
Con’s jaw tightened. “And Julian, you’re certain this piece is authentic?”
“Positive.”
I exhaled, forcing my thoughts to remain steady. Another unknown player in the game was the last thing we needed, but the opportunity was too important to ignore.
“Can you keep tracking the signal?” I asked.
Julian nodded, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “I’ll narrow it down. If they slip up, even for a second, I’ll catch the location. And if they don’t, I’ll find another way in.”
Con rested a hand on the back of Julian’s chair. “Good work.”
Julian flushed, pride flickering across his features. “I’ll send you updates every hour.”
I met his eyes. “This might be the break we need.”
Julian smiled, the kind that came more easily now that he wasn’t struggling just to breathe. “Then I’ll make damn sure we don’t lose it.”
The weight of the clan’s unrest, Siris’ scheming, and Valerian’s threat lingered at the back of my mind, but for a moment, I let myself feel the spark of something else.
Momentum.
A lead.
A chance to get ahead before our enemies made their next move.
Con shifted beside me. “Let’s prepare. We’ll need a plan before the others catch wind of this.”
I nodded, looking once more at the artifact on Julian’s screen. Another piece of a dangerous whole.
And one step closer to whatever game Valerian intended to play.
The image on Julian’s laptop lingered in my mind as we left the conference room. Another piece. Another clue. Another step toward ending this nightmare.
But one thought kept circling back like a persistent shadow.
“Dimitri might know the name of the broker,” I said as we walked down the hallway.
Con let out a low grunt. “Probably.”
The word carried resignation rather than agreement. He hated needing Dimitri. I didn’t blame him. But we were running out of clean resources, and Dimitri had spent decades in the filth of the underground market. If anyone recognized the trail, it would be him.
The walk to the basement felt longer than usual. Maybe it was the weight of the new lead, or maybe it was the knowledge that we were about to rely on the one man whose entire existence revolved around making our lives hell.
The air grew colder as we moved down the stone corridor, Con leading the way with silent focus.
The overhead lights flickered, casting quick flashes of shadow over the concrete walls.
By the time we reached the reinforced door to the holding cells, I could already feel Dimitri’s smugness radiating through the metal.
Con unlocked the door, and it creaked open with the kind of groan that matched my mood.
Inside, Dimitri sat on his cot like a king on a ruined throne. His dark suit was wrinkled, hair mussed, tie crooked. Despite his disheveled state, he straightened when he saw us, his grin forming before I even reached the bars.
“Well,” he said, voice bright with amusement. “If this isn’t the highlight of my evening.”
“Save it,” I replied. “We need information.”
“Oh?” He leaned forward, clasping his hands. “Then by all means, ask. I live to serve.”
Con snorted. “You live to annoy.”
“And yet you keep visiting me,” Dimitri said lightly. “Makes one wonder who’s really attached.”
“Focus,” I cut in. “A piece surfaced on the black market. One connected to Valerian’s collection. We need the name of the broker.”
Dimitri’s eyebrows shot up. “A piece surfaced? Already? My, my. Someone has been busy.”
“Dimitri,” I warned.
He lifted a hand in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You want a broker’s name. Which one? There are many.”
“This one appears to be local,” I said. “Black market. High-end. Private auction.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes flicking between us. “Hmm. Many possibilities.”
He wasn’t stalling because he didn’t know.
He was stalling because he enjoyed it.
I narrowed my eyes. “Tell me, or I’ll let Con break every bone in your hands and we’ll see if that jogs your memory.”
Con didn’t flinch at being volunteered, which I appreciated.
Dimitri recoiled dramatically. “Cassara, please. You wound me.”
“And I can make it literal,” I said.
His smile returned, pleased. “I’m tempted to draw this out longer, just for that tone.”
I stepped closer to the bars. “Dimitri. Now.”
He pretended to consider, tilting his head as if weighing which response would irritate me the most.
Con cracked his knuckles, and Dimitri’s attention snapped toward him.
“All right, all right,” he said quickly. “But you really aren’t going to like the answer.”
“I already don’t like you,” I replied. “My night can’t get worse.”
“Oh, I think it can.” Dimitri’s grin widened. “It’s someone familiar. Someone close. Someone you’ve probably had over for dinner at some point.”
I glared. “Stop dragging this out.”
He raised one finger. “Promise you won’t get upset?”
“I promise nothing.”
Dimitri sighed with exaggerated disappointment. “You take all the fun out of things.”
“Dimitri,” Con growled.
That did it.
Dimitri’s smugness sharpened into something triumphant as he delivered the name.
“Marcus Lindholme.”
The words hit harder than expected.
My mind stalled, the edges of the room pulling tight like a drawstring.
“Isra’s boyfriend?” I asked quietly.
Dimitri nodded. “The very one. Charming fellow. Handsome. Soft-spoken. And extremely good at moving rare objects from one set of hands to another. A master broker. His fortune didn’t come from a trust fund, I assure you.”
I clenched my jaw. “You’re sure.”
“Oh, absolutely. Marcus used to handle some of my smaller deals before I… ascended.” He waved a hand at his cell like it was a luxury suite. “He’s discreet. Connected. Respectable enough to avoid suspicion. Exactly the sort of man you’d want running a black-market transaction in the city.”
Con muttered a curse under his breath.
I felt the floor tilt under me. Isra had finally found someone good. Stable. Steady. A man who made him smile. And now Dimitri was telling me that the same man might be involved in selling arcane relics connected to Valerian.
I forced myself to meet Dimitri’s gaze.
“If you’re lying, I’ll come down here and personally peel your skin off.”
He smirked. “Cassara, you give me far too little credit. I wouldn’t waste a lie on something this interesting.”
Con stepped closer to the bars. “If Marcus is involved, he has some explaining to do.”
Dimitri leaned back on the cot, hands behind his head, looking entirely too pleased.
“Oh, he has plenty to explain. And I, for one, cannot wait to hear how that conversation goes.”
I stared at him until his smile dimmed, just a little.
“We’re done here,” I said.
But Dimitri wasn’t finished. As we turned to leave, he called after us.
“Do say hello to Marcus for me. And tell him his last cut was too high. He’ll know what I mean.”
I didn’t look back.
I didn’t trust myself to.
The heavy door clanged shut behind us, sealing Dimitri back in the dim cell. His satisfaction still clung to the air like a stain.
Con and I made it halfway down the corridor before I stopped walking.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I said quietly.
Con halted beside me, his expression tightening. He didn’t question the instinct. He rarely did.
“No,” he agreed. “Dimitri enjoyed that far too much.”
“He always enjoys stirring trouble,” I replied, “but that… that was different. He wanted to watch the fallout.”
“Because it will hurt Raven,” Con said.
I shook my head. “She doesn’t know Marcus that well.”
“But Isra does,” he countered. “And hurting Isra will set Raven off.”
That landed with a thud of grim truth.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Con’s jaw flexed. “I hope he’s wrong.”
“So do I,” I said, though the words felt thin. “But Dimitri wouldn’t look that pleased unless he believed every word.”
“He wouldn’t be that happy unless it was true,” Con finished.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, tension pressing behind my eyes. “If Marcus is involved in any of this, Raven will insist on going to Club Spice herself.”
Con nodded, voice dropping into a resigned tone. “She absolutely will.”
“And Rene is already weakened,” I said. “The last thing we need is Raven in the middle of a volatile situation.”
“Which means we go tell her now,” Con replied. “Before she hears it another way.”
I exhaled slowly, bracing myself. “I hate this. I hate every part of this conversation.”
He held my gaze for a moment. “But you’re the one she’ll trust to tell her.”
I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
We climbed the stairs, the weight of the information growing heavier with each step. The mansion’s atmosphere was still tense, but quieter—like the eye of a storm gathering strength.
When we reached Raven and Rene’s suite at the top floor, the hallway lights glowed softly, illuminating the ornate door. Magic lingered in the air, a comforting signature that belonged only to Raven.
Con lifted his hand to knock, then paused, glancing at me for confirmation.
I nodded, though my stomach tightened.
He tapped on the door.
Inside, footsteps approached.
And all I could think was how much I wished we weren’t about to break Raven’s heart.