Page 27 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

The tunnel stretched before us, winding deep into the earth. The walls were slick with moisture, but beneath the wet rock I could see carvings—runes, circles, strange sigils layered over one another. Some were old enough to have crumbled, but others still glowed, whispering in a language I almost understood.

Every instinct I had screamed caution, but curiosity burned stronger.

“This is it,” I whispered. “The witches’ ward. The place they hid the artifact.”

Con’s hand brushed the hilt of his new blade. “Then we move carefully. There’s no telling what kind of protections they left in place.”

I looked at him, the dim red light catching in his eyes. “No kidding,” I said softly, and together we descended into the mountain’s waiting dark.

The passage narrowed as we went, the air growing colder, thicker—every breath laced with dust and something older, something that hummed beneath the skin like trapped lightning. The walls around us shimmered, slick with condensation that reflected our light in quick flashes.

We moved carefully, our footsteps echoing through the long throat of the tunnel. The further we went, the more it felt alive. Every sound—every shift of air, every scrape of stone—came back warped and whispering, as if the mountain itself listened and remembered.

Con’s light swept ahead, catching the glint of metal half-buried in the rock. “Stop,” he said quietly, his hand snapping out to halt me.

I froze mid-step.

The beam of his flashlight caught it—a thin wire, almost invisible, stretched across the passage at ankle height. Ancient, but not dead. The metal gleamed with enchantment.

I crouched, eyes narrowing. “Trip wire,” I murmured.

Con leaned closer, inspecting the mechanism. “The witches didn’t just seal this place. They booby-trapped it. The magic is woven into the metal itself—one break, and it would’ve released whatever energy they tied to it.”

I studied the sigils carved into the floor just beyond the wire. They pulsed, gold leaking through cracks in the stone. “Explosive ward, maybe. Enough to collapse this tunnel.”

“Exactly,” Con said. “Which means the next one won’t be mechanical—it’ll be purely magical.”

He moved ahead, dismantling the trip with careful precision, his fingers working swiftly over the ancient mechanism until the hum of the ward faded into silence.

We continued on, ducking through narrow turns and stepping over fallen stone. The deeper we went, the more the walls changed—smoother now, carved by deliberate hands rather than time. The air grew warmer too, the scent of burned ozone thickening until it felt like breathing static.

My light caught on something ahead—a narrow archway half-collapsed by rubble. I ducked under it, scanning the corridor beyond.

That was when I heard the click.

Instinct took over. I threw myself backward, but not fast enough.

A flash of light tore through the dark, followed by the shriek of metal cutting air. Spears—five of them—shot out from the wall with the force of crossbow bolts, one slicing through the air just inches from my throat. The rest embedded in the stone opposite with a sound like thunder.

I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping across the cold floor. The smell of scorched metal filled the air, sharp and acrid.

“Cassara!”

Con was there in an instant, his boots pounding against the stone. He grabbed my arm, hauling me up before I could fully regain my footing. His eyes were bright gold in the flickering light, his jaw rigid. “You almost got yourself killed.”

I shook free, brushing dust and shards of rock from my jacket. “I’m fine.”

“That trap was keyed to movement. You should’ve waited,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger—not fury, but fear.

“Waited for what?” I snapped. “You to walk into it instead?”

His expression hardened. “You think I’d let that happen?”

I met his gaze, the tension between us sparking hotter than the magic still hissing in the walls. “You can’t protect me from everything, Con. Stop trying.”

He took a step closer, the light catching the planes of his face. “I’m not trying to protect you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Same difference,” I muttered, turning away before he could read too much in my expression. My pulse was still racing, not just from the near miss but from the way his voice had dropped when he said you.