Chapter 20
Raven lingered near the chair where Marcus had set the case.
The room had quieted again. Con’s breathing had evened out, the bags of blood stacked empty in the cooler beside the bed. The scent of iron still hung in the air, laced with smoke and the citrus from the soap in my bathroom.
My body ached in places I had not yet cataloged, but the adrenaline had settled enough that the pain felt distant, layered under weariness.
Raven reached for the case.
Her fingers brushed the surface first, as if testing for a residual charge. The Pentacoris fragment was inside.
Still, I saw her hesitate.
She opened the case and reached inside. When her hand came out, it cradled the piece of the Pentacoris.
The fragment.
Its presence filled the space around us as soon as she revealed it. The small metallic shard glinted softly, lines of iridescence running through its surface like veins. It thrummed in my bones, a soft, insistent pull that resonated with the echo of power still coiled in my chest.
Con turned his head slightly on the pillow, eyes half open. “Is something wrong?”
“I wanted to feel it before I put it back,” Raven said. “Rene asked through the bond. He is asleep again, but I can still sense his curiosity.”
She held the fragment between thumb and forefinger, careful and reverent, like someone handling a live charge.
The energy in the room shifted.
The light dimmed, though the bulbs did not flicker. The air thickened. A scent of ozone rolled across my tongue.
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” I said.
Con tried to push himself up. Pain pulled his features tight. He settled for propping himself on one elbow instead. “Put it away.”
He was right.
Too late.
The temperature dropped without warning. A chill brushed the back of my neck. The shadows in the far corner of the room gathered, stretching upward, pulling into a taller shape that did not belong to any of us.
The darkness twisted in on itself, like smoke caught in reverse. A figure stepped out of it.
Not in the flesh.
I would have smelled him if he were truly here. I would have tasted the specific wrongness of his blood and magic in the air.
This was a projection.
Valerian Mobius looked almost relaxed.
He wore dark clothes that caught no light, his long hair smooth around his shoulders, his skin pale in a way that was not dead but dangerous. His eyes, a deep, uncanny blue, fixed on the fragment in Raven’s hand first.
Then he smiled.
The sight of it scraped along my nerves.
“Every piece you find brings me closer,” he said.
His voice filled the room without volume. It wrapped around us, soft and poisonous, like velvet dipped in venom.
Raven’s grip tightened on the shard. “Get out.”
“Such hostility,” he replied. “Is that how you greet your future husband?”
“You are not my husband and you never will be,” she said.
He tilted his head, considering. “We will see.”
I stepped closer to the bed, my shoulder brushing Con’s. His fingers found my hand on instinct, cold and solid.
Valerian’s gaze slid to me then stopped for a heartbeat, tracing the torn edge of my dress, the soot still smudged along my arms.
“You smell like fire,” he observed. “How nostalgic.”
“Try stepping into it,” I said. “See how nostalgic it feels then.”
He chuckled. “Still so edgy, little bloodsucker.”
His attention returned to Raven. “You are glowing.”
Her jaw clenched. “Side effect of having my magic siphoned to save lives. Something you would not understand.”
“Oh, I understand sacrifice very well,” he said. “I simply prefer it to be made by other people. It keeps my schedule clear.”
He took a slow step forward. The floor did not creak under his weight. He cast no true shadow. He was here and not here at the same time, a warlock’s echo stitched through distance.
The fragment in Raven’s hand vibrated subtly.
“You should put that away,” Con repeated, voice low.
Raven did not.
“You are not touching this,” she told Valerian.
He spread his hands. “I am not touching anything. I am simply enjoying the view. Look at you, Raven. Carrying the shard, standing in the same room as the woman who nearly burned a hall to the ground. You gather power like a magnet.”
“I gather allies,” she said.
“Temporary,” he replied. “Fleeting. Do you know what is not temporary? The bond between us.”
“There is no bond,” she snapped.
“There has always been a bond,” he said. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
“You want to own me,” she said.
He smiled. “Ownership is such an ugly word. I prefer connection.”
She laughed, a raw, harsh sound. “You prefer control.”
He did not deny it.
Raven lifted the fragment higher, as if tempted to throw it at him. The shard hummed more forcefully in her hand, attuned to the rising tension.
“If you continue this, Valerian, there will be nothing left of you worth saving,” she said. “Assuming there ever was.”
He pursed his lips in a mock pout. “You wound me.”
“You did that to yourself,” she said. “You took everything good you might have been and twisted it into a weapon aimed at the people who loved you.”
His eyes cooled. The mocking light faded for a moment, revealing something harsher beneath.
“Loved,” he repeated softly. “Past tense. They gave up on me first.”
“You slaughtered them,” she shot back.
He waved a hand. “Histories are so muddy. The details blur.”
“Not for me,” she said.
His gaze hardened. “You cling to old wounds as if they were a shield. They are not. They are chains. You wrap yourself in regret so you do not have to admit you miss what we had.”
Raven stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “I am no longer the witch you loved.”
“You will be when I kill the overseer.”
Her lip curled. “Rene builds kingdoms. You break them.”
He dismissed that with a slight roll of his shoulders. “Details again. You always did get bogged down in ethics when you were tired.”
She took a step toward him before catching herself. “Stop this.”
“No,” he said.
Raven’s expression tightened. “Then at least stop watching us. Watching me. Let me live what remains of my life without you in my mind.”
He studied her quietly.
“You really believe you can keep me out?” he asked. “Even now?”
“We will find a way to sever you,” she said. “From the Pentacoris. From my magic. From this world if we have to.”
He smiled, slow and delighted, as if she had told him something charming.
“The Pentacoris does not belong to you,” she said.
“It belongs to whoever can claim it,” he replied. “You are doing the hard work for me. When you finish, I will simply take it from you.”
“You will not get that chance,” she said.
“You cannot stop what you do not understand,” he said.
Raven’s grip on the shard tightened so much her knuckles blanched. The fragment pulsed, reacting to the strain. The air around it rippled.
Con’s hand clenched around mine. He spoke without lifting his gaze from Valerian. “Careful.”
“You are a coward,” she said.
His eyes flashed. “I am the only one willing to do what is necessary.”
“By enslaving anyone who does not fit your design,” she said.
He smiled again. “I was always good at patterns.”
My grip on Con’s hand had grown so tight my fingers ached. I forced myself to breathe.
Valerian’s projection felt thicker than his last intrusion. More focused. More defined around the edges. Maybe the fragment’s presence amplified it.
Either way, he had too much access.
“We ended your last projection,” I said. “We can end this one.”
He glanced at me, amused. “You can certainly try.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. “Really. You already know we have the shard. You do not need to taunt us in person. Unless you are worried.”
His gaze cooled. “Do you truly believe that?”
“Yes,” I said. “You are afraid of Raven’s power. Even if I hold it temporarily.”
“Do not lie to yourself. The rush. The power. The knowledge that you could end anyone in that room with one thought. It sings to you.”
My jaw tightened. “What sings to me is the knowledge that you did not walk out of that warehouse with what you wanted.”
He chuckled again. “Do you think you hurt me by taking the piece and destroying the serum? You have delayed me. That is all. You have not stopped me. You are not capable of that yet.”
“Yet,” I repeated.
He nodded. “Yet. You will grow stronger as you gather the fragments. So will I. The Pentacoris was never meant to belong to timid hands.”
“Rene is not timid,” Raven said.
“He is fading,” Valerian replied. “He will be gone before the last piece surfaces. You know it. You can feel it every time his breath stutters.”
Raven’s face went very still.
“Do not talk about him,” she said.
“Why?” Valerian asked. “Because you are afraid I am right?”
“Because you are not worthy to speak his name,” she replied.
He tilted his head, as if acknowledging a well-placed strike.
“Finish this,” Raven said. “Whatever this is. Tell us what you want and then leave.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
When he spoke again, his voice lost some of the playful edge. Something older crept in. Hungrier. More obsessive.
“You know what I want,” he said. “I want you.”
Raven’s shoulders tightened. “You cannot have me.”
“I must possess you,” he said. “It is the only constant in all of this. Empires fall. Clans rot. Formulas decay. Even the Pentacoris will eventually crumble. You and I are the only enduring thread.”
“I would rather die,” she said.
“You already did.”
She shook her head, slow and deliberate. “I am what I am in spite of you.”
His jaw tensed.
“I will reclaim you,” he said. “The bond between us will not be severed. You can pretend you belong to Rene now. You can pretend you have built something new. It does not matter. In the end, you will stand beside me again.”
“You sound very sure,” she said.
“I always sound sure,” he replied. “Usually because I am.”
She lifted her chin. “You are wrong.”
He smiled, all teeth. “We will see.”
The shard shivered in her hand.
Valerian’s gaze dropped to it again, hungry.
“Careful, Raven,” he said. “You are holding my future.”
Raven took a step toward him. “Stay out of my head. Stay out of this house. Stay away from my family.”
His expression shifted one last time. The amusement thinned. The arrogance intensified.
“I will see you soon,” he said.
Then his projection broke.
He did not fade slowly. He snapped out, like a candle blown by a direct breath. One second, he stood in the corner near my dresser, all shadow and malice. The next, the space he had occupied was just empty air.
The temperature rose by a few degrees.
The pressure in my chest eased.
Raven stood in the middle of the room, staring at the space where he had been. Her hand still clenched the fragment. The edges had bitten into her palm. A thin trickle of blood ran down her wrist.
“Raven,” I said quietly.
She looked at me.
Her eyes shone, but the tears did not fall.
“I am fine,” she said.
She was not.
“Give me the shard,” I said.
She hesitated, then opened her fingers. The fragment sat in her palm, slick with a smear of red. It pulsed.
I reached out.
The metal kissed my skin.
The same deep resonance shuddered through me, connecting to the echo of the other pieces we had found, to the threads of magic that knit our world together, to something older I could not name.
For a heartbeat, I felt Valerian’s attention strain toward us again, from somewhere far away.
I closed my hand around the fragment.
“No,” I whispered.
I pushed back.
Not with fire. Not with brute force.
With will.
The sense of him at the edges of my awareness withdrew.
Not entirely.
But enough.
Raven exhaled.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Vault,” I told her. “Now.”
Her hand brushed my shoulder as she passed, a brief warm weight.
“I will see you in a few hours,” she said. “Try to sleep. Both of you.”
She left without waiting for a reply.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again, thicker now, after the echo of Valerian’s voice.
I stood very still, the fragment cooling slowly in my palm.
Con’s hand squeezed mine.
“Cass,” he said.
I turned to him.
He was watching me with clear eyes now. The blood had brought back more color to his face, though pain still etched lines around his mouth.
“You heard him,” I said.
“Every word,” Con replied.
“He will not stop,” I said. “Not until he gets what he wants. The Pentacoris. The serum. Raven. Me. All of it. He will keep pushing until something breaks.”
Con studied my expression. “What are you thinking?”
I closed my fingers around the shard again, feeling the small thing bite into my skin.
“I am thinking that he believes we are gathering these pieces for him,” I said. “That he thinks every step we take is part of his plan.”
I looked at him.
He stared back, patient.
“I will finish this,” I said quietly. “I do not care what it costs. I do not care how many warehouses we level or how many nights I spend burning from the inside out. I will tear the Pentacoris out of his reach. I will destroy the serum. I will end whatever hold he has on Raven, on this clan, on me.”
The words tasted like iron.
“I swear it,” I said. “Even if I burn alive to do it.”
Con’s grip tightened around my hand, strong now, not weak.
His eyes did not flinch from mine.
“Then I will burn with you,” he whispered.
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