Chapter Nineteen
The safe held fewer items than Ant expected. No glittering treasure or ancient artifacts - just four leather ledgers stacked beside a worn journal bound in burgundy cloth, its edges frayed with age. A manila envelope sat on top, unsealed.
It was clearly a simple record system, practical for someone who wanted to stick to the old ways, and with luck, highly incriminating.
Ant pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the camera.
His hands trembled - he needed food, a huge coffee, and a week’s worth of sleep, but he steadied his hands through sheer force of will.
Four minutes in a safe wasn’t enough time to read everything, but Ant was taking his cues from the late Ronald Finch.
Photographs would preserve the evidence perfectly.
Ant photographed each page, angling his phone to avoid shadows. The ledger spanned decades, and there were hundreds of names and what appeared to be millions of dollars funneled through shell corporations and offshore accounts.
“How are we doing?” Viktor’s voice carried from the doorway. His mate was getting edgy, and Ant understood, but he trusted his gut as well. He had to get the evidence.
“Two more ledgers to photograph, then the journal,” Ant said. “Approximately ninety seconds.”
A guard in the hallway shifted his weight. Ant heard the subtle scrape of shoe leather on hardwood.
“Back up,” Viktor said flatly. “I won’t tell you again.”
Ant moved to the second ledger. More names.
More dates. The amounts grew larger as the entries progressed.
It seemed Claudius had refined his methods over time, targeting wealthier victims with greater holdings.
September 2015 - Jonathan Marks - $1.2 million - Marks Automotive Group.
February 2018 - Patricia Morgan - $2.3 million - Morgan Estates… The list went on and on.
The third ledger documented property transfers, including details of deeds signed over and various real estate portfolios transferred to Raven Holdings LLC. Entire family fortunes had been dismantled piece by piece while the victims sat enthralled, unable to resist.
Ant’s jaw tightened. Ronald Finch had died for the evidence in these four books, for daring to expose what Claudius had spent decades perfecting.
He finished the third ledger and reached for the fourth.
His phone’s camera clicked repeatedly as he worked through the pages.
The fourth ledger tracked the shell corporations themselves, including details like incorporation dates and registered agents.
There were even bank routing numbers - something Ant didn’t understand, but Bridget would, or someone at the Justiciary.
“We’re running out of time, babe,” Viktor said, still lurking by the door.
“One minute, forty seconds.” Ant set the fourth ledger aside and lifted the burgundy journal with careful fingers. The leather was soft and worn smooth by centuries of handling. He opened to the first page.
1847 - Spring
The gift continues to fascinate. Edward Raines proved most receptive to suggestion. I required only three sessions before he signed over his shipping company. The humans suspect nothing. They attribute his sudden generosity to religious fervor.
Ant’s stomach turned. Claudius hadn’t just recorded what he’d done, he’d actually written every detail, and was clearly proud of what he’d achieved.
1851 - Winter
Mrs. Holloway resisted longer than expected. Five sessions. Her will is strong, but ultimately futile. The land around the estate now belongs to Raven Holdings. She remembers nothing of our encounters. A kindness, perhaps, though I confess I enjoy watching their confusion afterward.
The journal spanned nearly two centuries.
Page after page of vampiric trances performed, humans manipulated, and ultimately, fortunes stolen.
Claudius had documented every victim, every trance, and every single asset acquired.
The one journal alone would destroy any defense Claudius’s lawyers attempted.
No competent attorney could argue away evidence written in Claudius’s own hand.
Ant photographed each page, his phone’s memory filling with irrefutable proof. His eyes blurred at times, and he had to stop and focus again, but adrenaline kept him going. Each click of the camera felt like another nail in Claudius’s coffin.
January 2019 - Thomas Whitmore (Patricia’s son, investigating mother’s sudden “generosity”). Eliminated threat through extended trance sessions. Subject now believes mother acted of her own accord. Shell corporations remain secure.
October - Ronald Finch.
Ant stopped.
The entry was brief but damning.
Forensic accountant. Discovered shell network through Whitmore family inquiry.
Subject broke into study at 14:37 October 14.
Photographed safe contents. Terminated October 15, 01:23.
Body staged to appear as feeding accident.
Pen removed along with handwritten notes. Edmund and Tory assisted with cleanup.
There it was. Premeditated murder documented in the killer’s own hand. Ant photographed the page three times from different angles, ensuring every word was legible. His hands no longer trembled. His fury was fueling him far better than coffee ever could…although the coffee would be nice.
“Ant.” Viktor’s voice carried a warning note.
“Almost finished.” Ant flipped through the remaining pages.
There were just a couple, but it showed, even after the police had visited to investigate Finch’s murder, Claudius still kept doing what he was doing.
He genuinely thought he was invincible. The only thing Ant was pleased to see was that there was no evidence Claudius had tranced the police officers who did turn up at the estate. There was no mention of them at all.
Ant photographed the final pages, then opened the manila envelope. It contained bank statements and wire transfer receipts, likely supporting documentation for the ledgers, although Ant didn’t have time to check. He photographed them anyway, determined not one shred of evidence would be overlooked.
The three guards in the hallway had inched closer. Ant heard their breathing, the subtle whisper of fabric as they moved. They were maybe ten feet from the doorway now, close enough that Viktor had shifted his weight, preparing to engage.
“Don’t,” Viktor said quietly. “You won’t like what happens next.”
One of the guards spoke up, voice tight with conflicting loyalties. “Lord Claudius gave standing orders about the study. We can’t just…”
“Your Lord Claudius,” Ant interrupted without looking up from the envelope, “is currently restrained in the garden awaiting arrest for murder, financial exploitation through illegal vampiric trances, and attempted murder of a Justiciary investigator. Your standing orders are…” He raised his head as he heard Able barking and quickly photographed the last few pages.
Everything went back into the safe exactly as he’d found it - the Justiciary would want to collect the physical evidence themselves, but Ant’s photographs ensured nothing could be destroyed or altered before they arrived.
“Done,” Ant said, straightening. His legs wobbled slightly, and he steadied himself against the wall. His exhaustion was catching up now that adrenaline was fading.
Viktor glanced back, assessing. “Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Can you run if we need to?”
Ant considered honestly. “Probably not.”
“Shit.” Viktor returned his attention to the hallway. “Plan B, then. We hold this position until the Justiciary arrives.”
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. The one who’d spoken earlier cleared his throat. “How long until they get here?”
Ant checked his phone. “Approximately six minutes. Unless they encountered traffic.”
“Six minutes,” the guard repeated. He looked at his companions, then back at Viktor. “Lord Claudius won’t…”
Heavy footsteps echoed from the main staircase. Multiple sets of footsteps.
Ant’s enhanced hearing picked out at least five distinct gaits, moving with vampiric speed.
The recovered guards from downstairs, probably.
And underneath their purposeful stride, another sound - slower, heavier, and radiating fury with each step.
Claudius. That would explain Able’s barking.
With no order to attack, Able was simply alerting them that his charges had moved.
“Inside,” Viktor ordered, gesturing Ant away from the safe. “Back wall, behind the desk.”
Ant obeyed quickly, realizing how badly they were disadvantaged. There was only a single exit, with limited cover, and Viktor had to be running on fumes as badly as he was. They’d achieved their objective, but at what cost?
We just have to survive for the next six minutes. Ant might’ve mentioned his magical power levels could do a lot of damage before, but the way he was feeling, he doubted he could so much as light a candle in his current condition.
Viktor positioned himself in the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance, and Ant heard Claudius before he could see him.
“You dare,” Claudius hissed, clearly furious. “You dare enter my private study, destroy my wards, and lay your filthy hands on my property.”
“You murdered an innocent man and tried to murder my mate. So yeah. I dare.”
“The accountant was a thief who broke into my home…”
“The accountant,” Ant interrupted from behind the desk, “was hired by families you exploited through illegal vampiric trances.
He traced your shell corporations, discovered your safe, and photographed evidence of financial crimes spanning decades.
You discovered his intrusion via security footage at 5:47 p.m. on October 14th.
“At approximately 1:23 a.m. on October 15th, you, Edmund, and one other coven member noted as Tory, entered the guest room where Ronald Finch was reviewing his notes. You used vampiric trance to paralyze him, then fed until he died of blood loss. You removed his fountain pen because it’s presence would’ve alerted any sensible official to the presence of handwritten notes about your shell corporations and replaced it with a different pen to eliminate evidence, along with the notes. ”
“You witnessed nothing. The wards would have prevented…”
“Yes, your wards trapped me in a vision loop designed to fragment my consciousness,” Ant continued calmly.
“A clever trap, but that one was flawed as well. Once my mate anchored me, I pushed deeper into the scene and observed everything that occurred eleven hours before Ronald’s death.
I watched him photograph your safe contents.
Later that same day, I heard you order Edmund to help you kill him.
I witnessed the entire murder. You already know all this because, one, you did it, and two, I already told you this when you tried to restrain me before.
Seriously, you should get your memory checked. ”
Claudius’s hands clenched. “No court will accept testimony from a mage who admits his vision was compromised.”
“Correct.” Ant raised his phone. “Which is why I just photographed every ledger, every bank statement, and every entry in your journal documenting two centuries of vampiric trances and financial exploitation. Including your written confession to murdering Ronald Finch, and I already sent those photographs to my sister.” The last bit was a little white lie, but Ant would get right onto doing that as soon as the Justiciary arrived. Five minutes and counting.