Page 45 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

“Con!” I shouted over the fire. “He’s got it!”

Con’s reply was lost in the chaos, but I saw him cutting through enemies, making his way toward me. He was still a good fifty feet away. I couldn’t wait.

I turned toward the fleeing soldier, raised my hand, and reached for the well of power I’d been avoiding all night. It felt empty—hollowed out from the temple, from the fight, from everything. But I didn’t have a choice.

The magic came reluctantly at first, thick and sluggish, then all at once. It ripped through me like wildfire, a searing pulse that made my vision flash white. My veins burned, my fingers trembling as energy gathered in my palm.

The fleeing man turned at the last second, sensing it.

Too late.

The pulse hit him square in the back. The blast was small—barely more than a shockwave—but it was enough. Blue-white light flared, and the man screamed, the sound cut short as he hit the ground face-first, skidding across the concrete. The artifact flew from his hands, tumbling across the floor.

I was already moving before it stopped. My boots slipped on ash and glass as I sprinted forward. The heat clawed at my skin, every breath searing my throat, but the only thing I saw was that golden glow.

I dove, scooping the artifact into my arms. The moment my fingers touched it, its pulse steadied again—like a heartbeat syncing with mine. The air around me thrummed, the magic in me reacting to its energy.

Behind me, the soldier I’d stabbed staggered upright, his movements jerky, mechanical. His eyes were unfocused, his body smoking where metal met flesh. He took one step toward me—then another.

Con appeared out of the smoke like something carved from the fire itself. He grabbed the soldier by the collar and drove his blade through the man’s throat with a single brutal motion. The body hit the ground before I could blink.

“Cass!” he barked, his voice cutting through the roar. “Move!”

I didn’t argue.

We ran.

The fire was everywhere now, licking up the walls, curling through the rafters. The ceiling above us groaned, beams twisting as the metal began to fail. A cascade of sparks rained down like burning snow.

Con stayed ahead of me, cutting a path through debris and fallen steel. The heat was unbearable, our shadows stretched long and red in the flickering light. The loading bay door was half-open, warped from the heat, but it was enough. We ducked under, the flames chasing us out into the night.

The cold hit first—brutal and sudden. The contrast made me stumble, the freezing air burning against sweat and smoke. We didn’t stop moving. The warehouse behind us was an inferno now, flames tearing through the roof, sending thick plumes of black smoke curling into the dark sky.

We sprinted for the tree line, the snow crunching beneath our boots.

When we reached the edge of the woods, Con turned, watching the warehouse collapse in on itself. The sound was like the earth groaning in pain—steel twisting, glass shattering, the roar of destruction swallowing everything.

Flames reflected in his eyes as he sheathed his blade, his breath forming clouds in the cold. “You got it?”

I touched my hip, the artifact’s golden light pulsing through the leather satchel. “Yeah,” I rasped. “I’ve got it.”

He gave a single nod, his gaze still on the burning ruin below. “Good.”

The forest around us was silent except for the distant crackle of fire. Snow began to fall again, thin flakes hissing as they touched the heat rising from the blaze. I sank to one knee, every muscle trembling, the artifact still cradled against me.

Con crouched beside me, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder—steady, grounding.

“Rest,” he said quietly. “You’ve done enough for one night.”

I looked at the burning horizon, at what was left of the lab, of the monsters we’d fought, and the secret we’d stolen back from the dead.

“No,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re not done yet.”

Con’s jaw tightened. “We are for now.”

The snow kept falling, thickening, blurring the edges of the world until it was only fire and frost and the two of us in between⁠—

and the constant heartbeat of something ancient and alive, pulsing in my hands.