Page 42 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

The place looked half-abandoned and half-lived-in. A cot was shoved into the corner, a tray of untouched food beside it, and stacks of handwritten notes scattered across every available surface.

“Gods,” I whispered, taking it in. “This is where they’ve been doing it.”

Con moved to the nearest workstation, scanning the contents without touching anything. “Enhancement work,” he said grimly. “Human augmentation. Muscle fiber grafts, adrenal expansion—I recognize some of this terminology.” His voice had gone colder, but when I drifted closer to read over his shoulder, he shifted a fraction to give me space without actually stepping away.

I picked up one of the glass vials from the tray. The label was handwritten—Lot 45 – H-A Serum (Stabilized). Inside, a viscous amber fluid clung to the glass, pulsing under the light. My stomach turned.

“This isn’t just chemical,” I said softly. “There’s magic in it. Woven into the compounds. Whoever created this wasn’t just playing scientist.”

Con’s jaw tightened as he flipped through a binder of notes. His eyes flicked over the handwritten entries—patient data, diagrams, cross-sections. “Enhanced reflex protocols, blood resilience, regenerative grafts…” He paused, fingers tightening on the page. “They were experimenting on people—civilians, soldiers, anyone they could get their hands on.”

My gaze fell on a nearby monitor, the flicker of an image drawing me closer. It displayed a series of photographs—subjects before and after enhancement. Men and women with hollow eyes, some with surgical scars along their temples or necks. Others… less human.

I reached out and touched the screen, scrolling through the sequence. The last image stopped me cold. A symbol burned into the corner of the file—a sigil.

Con turned sharply, his eyes flashing gold in the low light. “So this is their latest lab.”

“Or where it started.”

The words felt final. My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, I stepped back until my shoulder brushed his chest. He didn’t shift away, just angled himself so he could see both me and the room, as if I were another variable he refused to let danger touch.

We stood in the center of the room, surrounded by years of forbidden science and twisted ambition. The hum of the machines was the only sound, a quiet, endless reminder that this place was still alive—still running.

I crossed to a second workstation where dozens of hormone vials sat in neat rows, each labeled with cold precision. H-Serum, D1-9, Cortisol Response Enhancer, Metabolic Reconstruction – Subject 21. The edges of the table were sticky with residue, and a small centrifuge still spun lazily, abandoned mid-cycle.

“Some of this tech is decades old,” I said, scanning the array. “But the spells binding the serums—those are recent. Someone’s been refining this.”

“Then they’re not done,” Con replied, his tone low, dangerous.

He moved toward a set of file drawers bolted to the wall, wrenching one open. Inside, folders upon folders of research notes were packed so tightly they had begun to warp. He flipped through them, each stamped with the same insignia—a broken circle flanked by jagged lines.

I traced the symbol on the drawer with my fingers, the edges rough beneath the paint. “They were building an army,” I murmured. “A hybrid one. Enhanced soldiers, compliant and controllable. But this…” I gestured to the scattered equipment. “This looks more recent than what Valerian started. Someone’s picked up his work.”

Con’s gaze found mine, and for a heartbeat, the anger in his eyes was replaced by something colder—realization. “They’ve been manufacturing the next generation,” he said. “And they want the artifact.”

I tightened my grip on the satchel, the pulse of its contents answering like it understood. The weight of it tugged at me, but the steadiness in Con’s stare anchored me harder than any artifact ever could.

“Then this wasn’t just about the artifact,” I said slowly. “It was about power. The artifact feeds on energy—living energy. If they learn how to merge its resonance with this kind of enhancement⁠—”

“They’ll make something that can’t die,” Con finished, voice low and grim.

The idea sat between us like a living thing, the hum of the machines suddenly too loud, too knowing.

I swallowed hard and turned toward the far wall. A whiteboard stood there, covered in equations and notes written in hurried, slanted handwriting. At the very bottom, scrawled beneath a dozen crossed-out words, was one sentence that made my skin crawl.

“Phase Three – Integration Protocol: Artifact Resonance + Biohost Compatibility.”

I turned to Con. “They’re already trying.”

He stepped closer, reading the line, his jaw set hard. “Then we’re already behind.” He stayed close, close enough that his sleeve brushed mine when he shifted, like he refused to give whatever lurked in this room even a sliver of space between us.

The hum deepened, the lights flickering as if the room itself could hear us. Somewhere in the corner, a machine beeped, the sound sharp in the silence. I looked down at the vial still in my hand, the magical shimmer moving through it like veins of light.

“This is the source,” I said softly. “This is where it began.”

Con nodded once, eyes sweeping the room, the set of his shoulders tight. “Then we burn it before it spreads further.”

I met his gaze, the weight of that decision heavy between us. “And find whoever’s still working on it.”