Colson

Things Vampires Should Not Touch

Colson POV

Silence settled back into the ravine like it had never been disturbed.

No witch.

No screaming.

No hum of active magic beyond the faint, steady pulse beneath my feet.

Just me.

And the open stone compartment waiting patiently in front of me like it knew I’d eventually cave.

I crouched there longer than I needed to.

Not because I was afraid.

Okay—partly because I was afraid.

But mostly because I was thinking.

“Well,” I muttered to myself, staring down at the layered sigils protecting the fragment, “this is usually the part where I make a really poor life choice.”

The compartment was narrow, carved directly into the bedrock, lined with sigils so old they felt… tired. Not weak. Just ancient. Like they’d been standing guard for so long they no longer cared about theatrics.

At the center floated the first piece of the book.

Not a full page.

Not even a proper binding.

Just a fragment—leather and parchment fused together in a way that made my teeth itch to look at. Runes crawled slowly across its surface, rearranging themselves in patterns that refused to settle.

A vampire should not touch that.

Every instinct I had screamed it.

I rocked back on my heels and blew out a breath. “Okay. Options.”

Option one: leave it.

Laughable.

Option two: go get Zane.

Also laughable, considering I was currently several bad decisions away from being hunted by Kendrick, Ezra, and at least one pissed-off hell-escaped witch.

Option three: Sage.

I snorted softly. “Yeah. That’ll go over great. ‘Hey Sage, funny story, I’m from the future and need help stealing an ancient spell book that might end the world.’”

She’d punch me. Hard. Possibly enjoy it.

No. I was on my own.

And the witch was already onto me.

Which meant time was not my friend.

I rose slowly, rolling my shoulders, eyes never leaving the fragment.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “Let’s do this without bursting into flames.”

I reached forward—then stopped myself inches from the compartment.

Bare hands were a hard no.

Even if I could touch it.

Even if the earth crystal in me might protect me.

This wasn’t the time to test just how immortal I was.

I glanced down at myself, then huffed a humorless laugh.

“Figures.”

I tugged my shirt over my head, wincing slightly as cold air hit my skin.

“Great,” I muttered. “Saving the world shirtless. Amaris would never let me hear the end of this.”

I folded the fabric carefully, using it like a barrier, then hesitated again.

Because even through cloth, the magic pulsed stronger.

Closer.

Hungry.

“Last chance to walk away,” I told myself. “Pretend you didn’t see it. Go have a drink. Maybe a nap. Let the apocalypse handle itself.”

I didn’t move.

I sighed.

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

I closed my eyes and reached inward instead.

Deep.

Past the hunger. Past the old instincts. Past the part of me that Ezra had sharpened into a weapon.

Down to the earth crystal.

It answered immediately.

Warmth bloomed in my chest—not the false heat of blood, but something steady. Grounded. Like standing barefoot on stone that had existed long before gods decided to be petty.

The magic spread through my arms, down my spine, anchoring me.

“Okay,” I whispered. “You and me. Let’s not screw this up.”

I opened my eyes and reached forward again, this time letting the earth magic flow outward—not touching the fragment, but supporting the space around it. Like lifting something with invisible hands.

The sigils reacted instantly.

Light flared.

The runes shifted, testing, pressing back.

I gritted my teeth. “Easy. Easy. I’m not stealing it. I’m… borrowing.”

The fragment trembled.

Then slowly—slowly—it lifted from its resting place, hovering just above the compartment.

My breath hitched.

“Holy s**t,” I breathed. “That actually worked.”

I maneuvered the folded shirt beneath it, careful, precise, sweat prickling at my temples despite the cold.

The moment the fragment settled onto the cloth, the pressure spiked.

Pain lanced through my skull, sharp and bright.

I snarled under my breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Vampires not welcome. Message received.”

The earth magic flared harder, pushing back.

For one terrible second, I thought I’d misjudged it—that the crystal wouldn’t be enough.

Then the sigils dimmed.

Not gone.

Just… accepting.

The fragment stilled.

I sagged back on my heels, chest heaving.

“…Okay,” I said hoarsely. “Piece one. Secured.”

I wrapped the shirt carefully around the fragment, sealing it away like it might bite me if I blinked wrong.

The moment it was fully covered, the pull beneath my feet faded.

Not gone.

But quieter.

Like the earth itself had exhaled.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the bundle in my hands.

And then the reality of it hit me.

Kendrick’s witch knew something.

Enough to follow me.

Enough to test me.

Which meant Kendrick might already suspect the full truth.

And if he did…

I swallowed.

“…Ezra,” I muttered.

Did he already know?

Or was he still chasing the wrong shadows, distracted by the pretty lies I’d fed him?

Either way, the margin for error just vanished.

I tucked the wrapped fragment securely against my side and scanned the ravine, senses flaring outward.

Nothing.

For now.

“How the hell do I get out of this without being caught,” I muttered, “and what fresh nightmare is waiting for me when I go after piece number two?”

Because there was a piece number two.

In another time.

Another mess.

Another version of hell.

I laughed quietly, the sound brittle.

“Guess I’ll find out.”

I turned away from the ravine, already planning my exit, knowing one thing for certain—

This was only the beginning.

And whatever waited for me next?

It wasn’t going to be kind.

The ravine stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

No wind. No echo. No lingering scream of magic snapping shut the way it usually did when something ancient finished making a point. Just stillness, thick and watchful, like the land itself was holding its breath to see what I would do next.

I stood there longer than was smart.

Not frozen.

Just… listening.

Because silence, in my experience, was rarely empty. It was usually full of things waiting for you to make the first mistake.

“Well,” I murmured, shifting my weight, the wrapped fragment heavy against my side, “that went better than expected. Which means it’s about to get worse.”

I glanced back at the stone compartment. The sigils had settled into a dull, dormant glow—not gone, not broken. Just satisfied. Like an old guard dog curling back up after deciding you weren’t worth the effort of biting.

That alone should have terrified me.

I looked down at the bundle in my hands again.

The first piece of the book.

The thing Ezra wanted.

The thing Kendrick I’m sure feared.

The thing an entire bloodline had bled themselves hollow to hide.

And here I was. A vampire. Shirtless. Holding it like a very cursed burrito.

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Absolutely fantastic life choices.”

The pull was gone now—no more magnetic tug beneath my boots—but the awareness remained. The fragment wasn’t inert. It was… aware. Not sentient exactly, but responsive, like a sleeping animal that knew it had been moved.

Every instinct I had told me not to get comfortable.

I straightened slowly and scanned the ravine again, extending my senses farther this time. No heartbeat. No magic surge. No familiar pressure pressing against my skull.

Nothing.

Which was either very good…

Or very, very bad.

“Kendrick’s witch isn’t stupid,” I muttered. “Which means she’s either stuck in that trap—”

I snorted quietly. “—or she’s already found a workaround and is laughing her way out.”

Neither option thrilled me.

I took a step back, then another, moving carefully now, every footfall measured. I didn’t rush. Rushing got you sloppy. Sloppy got you dead.

The wrapped fragment shifted slightly against my ribs.

I froze.

“…Don’t do that,” I whispered to it. “I’m already stressed.”

The magic settled again, the warmth from the earth crystal in my chest responding instinctively, grounding me before the book could push back.

Right.

That was new.

I exhaled slowly. “So that’s how it’s going to be. You prod me, I prod back. Mutual discomfort.”

Great. A relationship.

Good.

Stay sulky. Stay quiet.

I started moving toward the ravine’s exit, every sense on high alert now. The path back wasn’t long, but it wound through narrow rock cuts and open stretches where I’d be visible from a distance.

Which meant I had a decision to make.

Fast exit, risk being seen.

Slow exit, risk being followed.

“Why is it never option C?” I muttered. “Teleport home and drink until this feels like a bad dream.”

The pocket watch at my side vibrated faintly.

I stopped again, fingers curling around it instinctively.

Not the full recall buzz.

A warning.

My jaw tightened.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I know. Clock’s ticking.”

I glanced up at the sky. The stars were faint, washed out by the distant glow of the city, but I could tell the time well enough.

I didn’t have long.

Not here.

Not like this.

Which meant I had to assume the worst.

That Kendrick’s witch wasn’t out of the game.

That Kendrick himself might already suspect more than he let on.

That Ezra—paranoid, clever Ezra—might be putting pieces together even now.

I laughed under my breath. “And here I thought the hard part was stealing the damn thing.”

I pushed forward, keeping low, moving through shadow where I could. Every snapped twig made my muscles tense. Every shift of stone had me ready to fight or run.

Halfway out of the ravine, I paused again.

Because something felt… off.

Not magic.

Not a presence.

Just a sense of being observed.

I turned slowly, scanning the ridgeline behind me.

Nothing.

No movement. No silhouette.

Still, the feeling lingered.

“Paranoia,” I told myself. “Totally healthy. Definitely not because I just stole a world-ending artifact.”

I resumed moving, quicker now.

Once clear of the ravine, I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I took a longer route, doubling back twice, crossing my own path just to make sure no one was tailing me.

By the time I reached the outskirts of the city again, my nerves were buzzing like exposed wire.

I ducked into an alley, pressing my back to the wall, breathing in deep, unnecessary breaths.

Okay.

Okay.

Piece one was done.

Secured.

Hidden.

Which meant the real problems started now.

Because Kendrick’s witch knowing something changed everything.

If she’d sensed the book—truly sensed it—then the secrecy Amaris’s bloodline relied on was compromised. Not shattered. Not yet. But cracked.

And cracks spread.

I pressed a hand over the bundle beneath my shirt, jaw tightening.

“Did you know this would happen?” I murmured, thinking of Amaris. “Did you know it would be this messy?”

Probably.

She always did.

I straightened and pushed away from the wall, forcing my thoughts forward.

Next steps.

I couldn’t go back to Ezra empty-handed for long.

I couldn’t disappear completely without raising suspicion.

And I definitely couldn’t let Kendrick get any closer to the truth.

Which meant juggling lies, half-truths, and misdirection like I was back in my old job.

The difference now?

I actually gave a damn who got crushed if I failed.

I rubbed a hand over my face and laughed quietly. “Look at you, Colson. Character growth. Horrifying.”

The watch buzzed again—stronger this time.

I glanced down at it, pulse ticking up.

“I know,” I muttered. “I’m coming.”

But even as I started toward Amaris—the place where I could safely trigger the return—I couldn’t shake the thought gnawing at the back of my mind.

If this was only the first piece…

What fresh hell waited for me in the next time?

What would I have to face to get the second fragment?

And when I did—

Would I still recognize myself afterward?

I tightened my grip on the wrapped book fragment and set my jaw.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said softly. “I’m not failing her.”

Not Amaris.

Not the future.

Not myself.