Page 17 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

Luke’s grin widened. “Really good, actually. My parents still visit. Every month, like clockwork. I think they like me being what I am now more than I do.”

“Do they?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. My mom says I finally look healthy. Guess she’s not wrong.”

He didn’t mention the cancer—not directly—but I remembered. He’d been dying when we found him. Barely twenty-three, painting murals in the hospice ward to stay sane between treatments. Rene had offered him the chance to live again, and he’d taken it without hesitation.

“I’m glad,” I said quietly. “You deserve it.”

Luke nodded, eyes on the road ahead. “Thanks. I’ve been painting again, too. Got a little studio in the east wing. You’d like it. Actually—” he hesitated, glancing at me in the mirror, “I think a few of your paintings are still up in your suite. The ones you bought off me.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “They’re still my favorites.”

He flushed, clearly pleased. “Then maybe I’ll show you what I’ve been working on. The new ones are… different. Brighter, maybe.”

“I’d like that,” I said, and meant it.

Outside, the city lights thinned, replaced by the tall, dark silhouettes of trees as the SUV climbed the winding hill toward the mansion. The first spires of Shadow Thorn came into view—black stone gleaming under the moonlight, the gothic arches draped in snow and ivy.

Home.

For a moment, the ache in my chest eased.

Con hadn’t spoken the entire drive. He sat beside me, silent but watchful, his gaze fixed on the passing darkness beyond the glass. Maybe he was still thinking about what happened with the magic. Maybe he was wondering the same thing I was—what would happen the next time it surged.

The SUV rolled to a stop before the mansion gates. Luke glanced back, his expression soft. “Welcome home, Cassara.”

“Thanks, Luke,” I said, smiling. “It’s good to be back.”

The gates opened slowly, the hum of the wards rising as the car pulled forward. Beyond them, the mansion waited—tall, ancient, and humming with the same pulse of power that had once made me fall in love with this place.

And somewhere deep inside, beneath the anticipation and the pride, that other feeling stirred again—apprehension, longing, and something dangerously close to hope.

The SUV rolled through the tall iron gates and up the winding drive, tires crunching over the thin crust of frost that had settled with nightfall. The trees on either side of the lane arched overhead, their bare branches threading together like skeletal hands, forming a tunnel that framed the mansion ahead.

Shadow Thorn came into view—smaller than Shadow Bone, but to me, far more beautiful. It was built into the slope of the hill overlooking the river, its black stone walls glimmering under the sweep of moonlight. Snow clung to the pointed gables and narrow window ledges, while warm amber light glowed behind the tall, arched panes of glass. The building had a Gothic grace to it—elegant, quietly lethal.

Where Shadow Bone towered like a fortress meant to intimidate, Shadow Thorn invited. It whispered. The dark ivy that crawled up its sides shimmered in the moonlight, breathing an energy I could feel even from the car. This was the home I’d built, my mark carved into every corridor and column, every ward woven into the foundation stones.

Luke pulled up to the front steps and turned off the engine. I sat for a moment, letting the sight settle over me. It had been too long.

Con opened the door first, stepping out into the crisp night air. He waited as I followed, the crunch of snow beneath my boots echoing off the marble stairs. The air smelled of pine and smoke from distant hearths, and somewhere within the walls, I could already feel the pulse of vampire life—the rhythm of my clan.

“Still beautiful,” I murmured.

Con glanced toward the mansion, his expression unreadable but approving. “It suits you,” he said.

I smiled slightly. “It always has.”

We ascended the steps, and the front doors opened before I could touch them. The wards recognized me, their whisper brushing across my skin like a breath of welcome. Warmth spilled out into the night—soft candlelight, polished wood, the scent of sandalwood and aged blood.

The foyer unfolded before us—smaller than Shadow Bone’s grand entrance, but far more intimate. The floors gleamed with black marble veined in silver. A grand staircase curved upward along the right wall, its railing carved with intricate runes. The chandelier above hung low, its glass teardrops glowing like captured moonlight.

Con stopped just inside, taking in the space. I could feel his gaze move across the details—the twin banners hanging from the mezzanine, the pair of angelic statues flanking the hall, the quiet hum of layered protective magic thrumming beneath the stone.

A familiar voice broke the stillness.

“Cassara!”