Page 24 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

I frowned. “What kind of stories?”

Julian hesitated, scanning another sheet. “Miners reported seeing light underground. Voices that didn’t echo. A few accounts mention people going in after the cave-ins and never coming back out. Some believed the place was cursed, but I think it was a containment ward. Whatever they buried down there was active. They sealed it for a reason.”

Manu’s voice came from offscreen, lower and more cautious this time. “We found old records of ritual symbols carved into the cave walls. You can barely make them out from the sketches, but they’re protection runes—modified witch sigils combined with early vampiric blood marks. It wasn’t just witches hiding something down there. The clans must’ve known.”

That made my stomach tighten. “Which means they helped bury it.”

“Or they were guarding it,” Julian said quietly. “It’s hard to say. But if this artifact has the same energy signature as the one from Prague, it’s still alive. And it’s been sitting under Quebec for centuries, feeding off the ley lines that run through the region. That kind of power doesn’t sleep quietly.”

The fire behind me flared, the shadows in my suite deepening as the words sank in. I could almost feel the pull of the thing beneath the earth—the hum of something ancient and waiting.

“So the piece is underground,” I said. “Hidden in a cave no one’s touched in two hundred years.”

“Exactly,” Julian confirmed. “The main entrance was sealed, but the quarry network above it still exists. I traced the property records. The land’s changed hands half a dozen times, but the current owner doesn’t even know what’s beneath it. You’ll need to access through the old quarry road on the eastern ridge. I’ll send the coordinates.”

Con straightened, his expression sharpening. “Any signs of other interested parties?”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “That’s the strange part. There’s recent activity—truck tracks, heat signatures, equipment movement. Someone’s been working around that area in the last forty-eight hours. No permits, no records.”

“So we’re not the only ones hunting it,” I said.

He nodded grimly. “And whoever they are, they’re fast. I can’t tell if they’re human or clan, but they’re organized.”

I felt the familiar stir of my magic—restless, coiling beneath my skin, sensing the shift in fate before I did. “Then we’ll have to get there first.”

“Be careful,” Julian warned. “Those tunnels were built by people who knew exactly how to trap power—and anyone foolish enough to chase it.”

Con’s gaze flicked toward me, the glint of gold sparking in his eyes. “We’ve been called worse.”

Julian sighed. “Then I’ll take that as confirmation you’re leaving soon.”

“Before dawn,” I said. “Send me the coordinates and everything you’ve got on the site. We’ll handle the rest.”

The screen flickered as Julian nodded, the image shifting to show the map once more—those red circles glowing under the camera light. The lines all converged on one point northeast of the city, where the wilderness thickened and the land gave way to stone.

He looked back at me, his voice quieter now. “Cass… this place—it feels wrong. Like it’s been waiting.”

I met his gaze through the glass, the reflection of firelight catching the edges of my eyes. “Then it’s waited long enough.”

The call ended, the screen dimming until the room was lit only by the flicker of the fire and the soft pulse of my magic beneath my skin. Con stood beside me in silence, his presence solid, grounding.

The cave waited.

And somewhere beneath Quebec’s frozen ground, the next piece of the artifact pulsed with ancient breath—alive, hungry, and aware that we were coming.

The suite was quiet once the call ended, the firelight casting restless shadows along the walls. I stood for a moment, listening to the hum of the wards surrounding Shadow Thorn, before my mind shifted to what came next.

The hunt.

Crossing to the weapons cache built into the far wall, I pressed my palm to the rune hidden beneath the carved molding. The seal flared at my touch and clicked open, revealing rows of black steel, gleaming silver, and polished wood. My fingers brushed along the hilts, old familiarity grounding me in the ritual.

Blades, pistols, throwing knives—all organized, all cared for. The smell of oiled metal and leather filled the air as I began strapping on weapons piece by piece. Twin daggers at my thighs, the shorter blade at my hip, the compact pistol under my arm. Then the serenity spear, collapsed and sheathed along my back like a dark promise.

When I turned, Con was already watching, his arms crossed, eyes tracing my movements with that unreadable expression he wore whenever I was preparing for a fight.

I opened the lower compartment of the cache and pulled out a weapon wrapped in dark cloth. Unrolling it revealed a long, curved blade—heavier than I preferred, but balanced and lethal. The metal caught the firelight with a ripple of blue, the craftsmanship clearly old, likely centuries.

I held it out to him. “Try this.”