Page 21 of Blood Caged

I answer, steeling myself. “Maxwell.”

“Soren. I want an update.” His voice comes over the line.

I keep my tone clipped and professional. “The witch has been successfully captured and secured. All protocols are in place. No complications to report.”

“Injuries?” Maxwell’s question is abrupt.

I hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Minor. Nothing of consequence.”

A pause. I can almost hear Maxwell’s frown. “And the security measures?”

“Double rotations, enhanced magical dampening. We’re prepared for any eventuality.”

“Good.” His response is curt. There’s an edge to his voice I can’t quite place. Tension? Worry? It’s unlike him.

I’m about to inquire further when Maxwell cuts me off. “I need to see you. Immediately.”

The words unsettle me. In all our centuries together, Maxwell has never sounded quite like this. Then again, he’s been acting completely out of character since the start of this fiasco.

“Of course,” I respond, already moving. “Shall I come to your estate?”

“Yes. Now.” The line goes dead before I can respond.

I stare at the phone for a moment, unease coiling in my gut. Whatever this is about, it can’t be good.

I rest a hand on the door jamb as I lean into the ops room; several faces turn to face me. “I have matters to attend to. Contact me immediately if anything comes up.”

Without waiting for them to reply, I turn away, heading down the hall and making my way through the maze of corridors that lead to the exit. I ignore the guards there and stalk away from the sprawling facility. From the outside, it looks entirely innocuous. Just a three-story building that was once a stately home. A home owned by a vampire. But that was never common knowledge.

I step out into the cool night air, my mind racing with possibilities. What could be so urgent that Maxwell needs to see me immediately? The unease in his voice troubles me more than I care to admit.

There’s no time for conventional travel. I close my eyes, focusing on the shadows around me. They respond to my will, coalescing and thickening until they envelop me completely. In an instant, I’m moving faster than any mortal eye could track.

The world blurs around me as I travel through the shadow realm. It’s a place of darkness and whispers, where reality bends and twists. To the uninitiated, it would be terrifying. But for me, it’s become second nature over the centuries.

I emerge from the shadows at the edge of Maxwell’s estate, the familiar grounds materializing around me. The journey that would have taken hours by car has been reduced to mere moments.

The gates of Maxwell’s estate loom ahead, snapping me back to the present. I pause, taking in the familiar sight. The wroughtiron bars, intricately designed with ancient vampire symbols, are silent symbols of Maxwell’s power and status.

I approach the grand entrance of Maxwell’s estate, my footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The manicured gardens and imposing facade are as immaculate as ever. Yet something still bothers me.

My heightened senses pick up subtle discordant notes in the air. The usual scents of night-blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass are tinged with something acrid. Fear? Anger? It’s hard to pinpoint, but it sets my teeth on edge.

I near the ornate front door, resisting the urge to materialize directly inside. Propriety demands I announce my presence properly, regardless of Maxwell’s urgency. He is my maker, after all, and some traditions may not be broken.

Before I can knock, the heavy oak door swings open. Maxwell stands there, his usually impeccable appearance disheveled. His silver hair is mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes, normally a calm gray, now flicker with an intensity that makes me take an involuntary step back.

“Soren,” he says, his voice tight with barely contained agitation. “Come in.”

I frown as I step past him. “Is something wrong?”

He doesn’t reply immediately; he simply turns and heads toward the sweeping staircase that leads to his study. It’s oddly quiet. No sign of the usual servants and attendants he normally has around him.

As I fall in step beside him, he breaks the silence.

“The witch,” he says abruptly, turning to face me. “Tell me everything about her capture.”

I blink, caught off guard by his intensity. “As I said on the phone, it went according to plan. We—”

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