Jasper had learned many things in his long, unnatural life.

But one lesson had proven itself again and again: after every low, a high would follow. Eventually.

Being captured as a fledgling machine for the Talamasca certainly hadn’t been on his list of plans for the year. Not even close. And all because of that idiotic boy who had stumbled into matters far beyond his understanding. Still… Jasper had survived worse. He always had. And he always would. Escape had been messy, but effective. In the end he reclaimed what mattered most—his identity, his freedom, his name. Yet it left him feeling as if he had been dragged centuries backward, forced to begin again from nothing. All for one thing.The Book... Or rather, the artifact the Talamasca labeled 752.

Fortunately, he hadn’t been the only one hunting it. Ambition had a way of attracting company. Allies of convenience. Opportunists. Desperate scholars. A few dangerous creatures who preferred the shadows just as much as he did. Months passed in careful planning. Observation. Waiting. The kind of patience only centuries could teach. Every guard rotation memorized. Every corridor mapped. Every weakness exploited. And finally—finally—he succeeded. His centuries-long pursuit had led him here.

Jasper stood before the reinforced container, its cold metal reflecting the dim light of the vault. His unnaturally blue eyes burned with a quiet intensity. Physically, he looked like an old man, turned far later in life than most vampires would dare choose. His hair thin and silver, his face lined with the illusion of age. But tonight? Tonight he felt young again. Like the predator he once was.

Slowly, almost reverently, he reached forward and unsealed the container. The locks disengaged with a soft mechanical hiss.The lid lifted. And Jasper froze. Confusion crept across his old features. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t a book. Inside the container… was a person. He stared for a long moment, his sharp eyes narrowing.

“What the…?”