Page 35 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

The snow had barely begun to settle over the blood when I heard it—boots pounding, the crack of branches snapping under heavy weight. Shouts cut through the stillness, followed by the high, thin whine of powered augments spooling up.

They were back.

“Con—” I started, but he was already turning, blade flashing into his hand, eyes molten gold in the dark.

Shapes burst from the tree line—seven, moving fast, disciplined, their armor gleaming in the moonlight. Enhanced humans, but heavier-built than the first wave—military-grade augments glinting beneath their skin. They’d been tracking us.

Three of them broke formation and rushed me before I could draw breath. I spun, daggers flashing, meeting the first strike midair. Metal rang against metal, the impact jarring up my arms. I parried, twisted, then dragged my blade across his throat. He staggered but didn’t fall—the wound began sealing in seconds, nanites glittering like dust beneath his skin as they swarmed to repair the damage.

“Regenerative implants,” I hissed, ducking as a baton came for my ribs. The second man moved fast, too fast. His eyes glowed red beneath his visor, every motion surgically efficient.

The first strike caught my shoulder; the second, my knee. Pain flared. I dropped low, swept his legs out, and slammed my dagger through the seam in his armor before he could recover. The metallic hiss that followed was half scream, half short-circuit.

Another came from behind—I barely caught him in time, twisting so his blade cut through my jacket instead of my spine. I drove my elbow into his face, grabbed his arm, and plunged his own knife into his gut. Sparks flared where steel met synthetic muscle.

But I was slowing. My pulse thundered in my ears, my lungs burned, and every movement dragged fire through my limbs. I had nothing left magically—every reserve burned out in the temple.

Across the clearing, Con was a blur of black and gold fury. Four men had him surrounded, but he moved through them like a storm unleashed. The curved blade flashed under the moonlight—each movement clean, efficient, devastating. One went down with his throat torn open, another with his chest crushed beneath Con’s boot.

Then one of them got smart.

An augmented soldier feinted high, drawing Con’s guard, while another dropped low on his blind side, driving an electrified baton into his already-injured shoulder. The crack of impact split the night. The current arced through him in a spray of blue, the smell of burned fabric and skin hitting a second later.

Con staggered—actually staggered—his arm jerking uselessly for a heartbeat as the muscles seized. The man pressed the advantage, shoving the baton in deeper.

“Con!”

He roared, a raw, animal sound, and forced his body to move through the pain. His free hand shot out, fingers closing around the attacker’s throat. With a brutal twist, he snapped the man’s neck, ripping the baton free and hurling it aside. Blood seeped through the shredded fabric of his shoulder, dark and thick, soaking down his arm.

He didn’t stop. But I saw the way his stance shifted—just a fraction more weight on his uninjured side, his left arm held a little closer, his movements tighter to conserve strength.

Even he couldn’t hold against this many forever. They were too fast, too coordinated. For every one he cut down, another pressed in.

I turned just in time to see one of the augmented soldiers break off from the fight and make a beeline for me. He didn’t attack—he went straight for the artifact.

The piece had fallen from my belt during the struggle, casting eerie light across the snow. The soldier dove for it, scooped it up, and sprinted for the trees.

“Con!” I shouted, parrying another blow. “They may be after the artifact!”

He looked up, saw the man fleeing into the woods with the crystal clutched to his chest, and his entire body went rigid.

“Back to the cave! We need to eliminate the threat before we retrieve it,” he roared.

The words hit like an order—absolute, leaving no room to argue.

We fell back in sync, covering each other as we fought our way toward the cave mouth. Every step was a blur of movement, steel clashing, snow flying, gunfire strobing in the dark.

Con cut down another attacker, pivoted, and grabbed my arm, hauling me backward as a round snapped past my ear. His injured shoulder barely moved, the blood soaking his sleeve now dripping steadily onto the snow. “Move!”

Two of the humans pressed forward, relentless, but the ground beneath us was rough, unstable. The snow gave way to jagged stone as we neared the cave. I slashed one man across the face, ducked a strike, then kicked another down the slope. His augmented body hit the rocks with a crack that echoed through the valley.

Con snatched up a broken length of timber from the earlier collapse and swung it with brutal precision. It connected with the side of a soldier’s helmet, snapping his neck instantly.

I stumbled over the threshold, my boots skidding on loose gravel. The air inside was colder, darker, the scent of dust and old magic still clinging to the stone. Con followed, bracing his back against the entrance as another burst of gunfire chewed into the rock near the mouth.

“Keep moving,” he ordered.

I nodded, forcing my legs to work as we pushed deeper into the cave. Behind us, the shouts grew fainter as the surviving men regrouped. The rhythmic crunch of boots on stone lingered for a few seconds more… then faded.