“It’s not what I can see as such, it’s what I feel,” Ant corrected. He descended the steps slowly, letting his magical senses extend outward. “We already know Claudius can create wards. That’s his gift, and I can understand that. But there are at least seven distinct magical signatures layered into this property, and they’re all feeding off each other.”
“That’s not possible. I doubt any of the other vampires here would have the same gift as Claudius – he wouldn’t allow it.”
“Exactly. The vampires we’ve seen so far, apart from Claudius, are all younger than five hundred, so they wouldn’t even have a gift yet.” Ant walked toward the nearest flower bed, Able keeping pace. Able was growling, which sounded so out of place in an apparently, peaceful environment. “Easy, boy. I know you don’t like it.”
The moment Ant’s boot touched the garden path, the magical pressure increased tenfold, and he was glad for the thick soles of his footwear. Images flickered at the edges of his consciousness - flashes of bodies being buried in shallow graves. None of it was recent, from what Ant could tell. The clothing on the bodies alone suggested the people died fifty years ago or more.
Focus. You’re not here for them. You’re here for Ronald Finch.
But the magic wouldn’t let him focus. It was clamoring at his mental shields, like a toddler demanding attention. Blood magic. Death magic. Binding magic. Protection magic. All of it twisted together into a chaotic knot that made his temples throb.
“Ant?”
He held up one hand, eyes closed, trying to separate the individual threads. “Give me a minute.”
The protection spells were strongest near the perimeter - that made sense. Claudius would want the outer defenses to be impenetrable. But underneath those wards, Ant could feel something older - a form of sacrificial magic - which would explain the dead bodies. Vampires could feed without killing their donors, but sacrificial magic was the type that needed to be regularly fed. Without it, it weakened and eventually disappeared.
How many people have died on this property?Looking around, Ant tried to get some idea, but again, his assessment was being interfered with. All he knew with certainty was that too many people had died at the Raven Estate - far too many.
Moving deeper into the gardens, Ant followed the strongest magical current. Viktor shadowed him silently, close enough to grab him if he stumbled. Able whined but stayed at Ant’s side, doing his job.
The pressure built with each step. Ant’s headache sharpened from a dull throb to piercing pain behind his eyes. Being bombarded by the different layers of magic was like trying to listen to seven rock bands all playing their own songs simultaneously, and all at the same volume. The effect was overwhelming, making it impossible for Ant to pick out individual components.
“There.” Ant pointed to a stone fountain at the center of the garden. “That’s the focal point.”
Viktor frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like just a fountain.”
“Nothing here isjustanything.” Ant approached carefully, extending his magical senses. The fountain itself, as Viktor had said, was exactly what it appeared to be. It was carved out of stone, or perhaps it was poured concrete, but it was all in one piece. It was filled with clear water, and there were even small fish swimming lazily among sparse water lilies whose roots were dangling in the water.
Designed to distract the eye.Crouching down, Ant let his hand hover at the base of the fountain - not touching it, but trying to pinpoint the source of the magic. Water was a powerful element in itself, but that wasn’t the source of the magic Ant could feel either. The energy was coming from beneath the fountain, from something old and buried deep in the earth.
There has to be a talisman buried under there. An object of some kind, charged with magic…But how? Ant felt a brush of Viktor’s concern through their bond, and the answer clicked. Claudius couldn’t have done any of that sort of setup alone, however…He’s had plenty of time to collect talismans, buying them, probably trading for them.Viktor’s comment about past mages he’d seen Claudius interact with raised another red flag.He’s probably been buildinghis defenses piece by piece over centuries.
The realization brought a fresh wave of pressure. Ant’s nose itched and then burned. He touched his upper lip, and his fingers came away red.
“Fuck.” Viktor was there instantly, hands hovering as if he wasn’t sure Ant even wanted to be touched - probably worried he’d overload Ant even further. “That’s it. You’ve got to stop.We’re done. You’re going back inside, or better yet, we get in our damn car and get out of here. I’m all for that option.”
“I’m fine.” Ant wiped the blood away with his sleeve, but his hand trembled slightly. The nosebleed was his body’s way of telling him he’d pushed too hard, tried to process too much magical input too fast. “I’m just overloaded. The magic here is…”
“Too fucking much,” Viktor finished. “Come on. You need to lie down, at least.”
“I need to finish mapping the defenses.” But even as Ant said it, another wave of disorientation washed over him. Images flickered - not a full scene reading, thank goodness, as Ant could barely stand. But he was getting fragments - the magic in the area was so strong he didn’t even have to touch anything. But glimpses of people screaming, a man on his knees begging for his life, and the underlying image of blood seeping into the base of the fountain were stuck in Ant’s brain, and he knew he would never forget them.Sacrifices. They made sacrifices here.
“Viktor, the fountain…”
“I don’t give a shit about the fountain. You’re bleeding.”
“Minimally.” Ant’s academic detachment was slipping, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Sorting through the layered magic was like trying to swim through concrete. Every breath required conscious effort. “I just need to understand the network. If we have to leave quickly, it will help to know where the weak points are.”
“There are no weak points. That’s the whole fucking point of Claudius’s defenses.” Viktor gripped Ant’s elbow, steadying him. “You’re done. We’re going back.”
Ant opened his mouth to explain, but another nosebleed started, and he could feel it was heavier this time. Able pressed harderagainst his leg, whining, trying to get between him and the fountain base.He’s right. You’ve pushed too far.
The magic in the grounds wasn’t giving him useful information anyway. For all the clamor, it was just noise. Ant couldn’t focus on Ronald Finch’s murder if he was drowning in the ambient trauma of the countless victims who’d died long before Finch was even born.
“Fine.” Ant let Viktor turn him back toward the manor. “But I need to call Bridget first and check in. She’ll be waiting to hear, and I want to tell her what you overheard about the shell corporations.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. No bars. No signal. Not even emergency service access.
