Out of the Shadows 017

A 5-star machine-augmented MIDNIGHT'S WAR novel

Conclave of the Damned

Elliott Grahame adjusted the cuffs of his new bespoke suit, still marveling at how the midnight blue fabric seemed to capture and absorb the light around it. The garment had been delivered to his Manhattan apartment that morning, along with a handwritten note on heavy cream-colored stationery:

For tonight’s gathering. The Council prefers traditional attire. –L

The suit, tailored with an almost supernatural precision to his frame, was the least of the changes in his life since that fateful night at Villa Capelli six weeks ago. The immediate effects had been subtle—heightened sensory perception, a reduced need for sleep, the need to avoid direct sunlight, increased physical vitality—but it was the psychological impact that had proven to be the most profound. The knowledge that time was no longer his enemy, that the decades ahead stretched into centuries, had recalibrated his entire worldview. Problems that once seemed urgent could now be approached with patience; goals that once seemed unattainable now required only persistence.

He ran one finger along the edge of his jawline, feeling the slight tautness of skin that seemed firmer, more resilient. The mirror showed no dramatic changes—he looked the same, perhaps a bit more vibrant, his complexion slightly clearer—but inside, he knew himself to be irrevocably altered.

Among other things, he now had blood on his hands. But he preferred not to dwell upon that.

“It is necessary,” Sofia had told him as he stared at the frightened middle-aged woman who was bound before him. Lorenzo, too, was there, in his dual-capacity as sponsor and witness. “At least this once, Elliott. It is both our tradition and our law.”

“The Rites of Cain,” Medici intoned solemnly. “You cannot truly be one of us without performing the sacrament.”

And so Elliott had, perhaps a little less reluctantly than he wished to admit to himself, severed his final connection to the human race.

Six weeks later, the transformation was still in its early stages. The full process would take months, even years to complete. Elliott would continue to age, though at a vastly reduced rate, for another decade or so before his biological clock came to a complete halt. After that, he would remain essentially unchanged for, well, potentially forever.

His phone buzzed with a text message:

Car waiting downstairs. Time to meet the family. –LdM

He took one last look in the mirror, grabbed his phone and wallet, and headed for the door. The Manhattan night awaited, and with it, his first introduction to what Medici had called “the broader community.”