Page 67 of Kiss of Blood and Sin

“Come on, Dimitri,” I muttered under my breath, “channel your inner art critic. Which of these overpriced doodles is hiding our prize?”

I moved from painting to painting, each step feeling like I was wading through molasses. Time seemed to stretch and warp, seconds feeling like hours. My nostrils flared, trying to catch any whiff of magic or hidden mechanisms, but all I got was the musty scent of old canvas and the lingering aroma of Angelo’s pretentious cologne.

This was going to be a long night. And here I thought grand larceny would be as easy as saying my ABC’s. Silly me.

I approached the castle painting, a monstrosity as big as a door, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest like an alien bursting from its host. My hand trembled as I stretched it out, fingers hovering mere inches from the ornate frame. I cleared my throat, which suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara.

“Aperio Arcanum, Aperio Arcanum, Aperio Arcanum,” I chanted, my voice barely above a whisper but seeming to echo in the silent room.

Suddenly, sparkles erupted around the painting, shimmering like a galaxy of miniature stars. The canvas seemed to melt away, revealing a hidden door that materialized out of thin air. I blinked rapidly, wondering if I was hallucinating from sheer stress.

With a deep breath that did nothing to calm my nerves, I grasped the cool metal handle and pulled. The door swung open silently, and I instinctively took a step back, half expecting booby traps or a guard vampire to jump out.

Instead, I found myself staring into a space larger than a walk-in closet, a veritable Aladdin’s cave of supernatural treasures. Golden statues from across the globe—I spotted Egyptian, Greek, and Italian pieces—glinted in the dim light, their eyes seeming to follow my every move. Ancient tomes lined a bookcase, their spines crackling with age and barely contained power.

My gaze zeroed in on a small table where an ornate silver hand mirror lay. It was the only mirror in the room, practically screaming “I’m the magical artifact you’re looking for!” I snatched it up, my fingers tingling at the contact, and waited a beat to see if I’d suddenly sprout warts or turn into a frog. When nothing happened, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

A dresser caught my eye; it was topped with a small jewelry box that looked far too innocent to be anything but trouble. Remembering Jaxon’s description, I approached it cautiously. My fingers hesitated over the lid for a moment before I steeled myself and flipped it open.

The Solarite Ring lay nestled inside, its gold band gleaming and the bronze sun-shaped stone seeming to pulse with an inner light. For once, it felt like the sun was shining on me instead of trying to turn me into vampire barbecue.

I grabbed the ring, the metal unnaturally warm against my cool skin, and shoved it into my pocket alongside themirror. My nerves screamed at me to get out, every second feeling like an eternity. Who knew how long Angelo’s church visit would last. I certainly didn’t want to be caught red-handed in his secret stash of supernatural swag.

With one last sweeping glance to ensure I’d left no trace, I hurried out of the room, my unnecessary breath coming in short gasps. The painting rematerialized behind me as I closed the door, leaving no evidence of my magical breaking and entering.

Now all I had to do was get out of here without being caught, return to the church before Angelo noticed my absence, and pretend I hadn’t just robbed the vampire mafia king blind. Piece of cake, right?

I slipped out of Angelo’s room, my heart pounding like a jackhammer on steroids. The hallway was empty again, which only ramped up my paranoia. This was too easy, like a vampire all-you-can-eat buffet. Dad was definitely setting me up, the bastard.

I made it back to Gianna’s room, my sanctuary in this den of wolves—both literally and figuratively. As I snuck onto the balcony, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Time for my grand exit, stage left. I shifted into a bat, feeling my bones crunch and reshape. Not the most comfortable way to travel, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I flew to the garage, the cool night air a brief respite from the tension coiling in my gut. Shifting back to my dashing human form, I found Petar waiting for me, sporting a grin that screamed “I’m up to no good and loving it.”

“Do you have the mirror?” he asked, practically salivating.

“No, I just risked life and limb for a quick game of hide and seek,” I pulled the mirror from my back pocket. “Of course I have it, genius.”

But as I held it out, the surface rippled like disturbed water. Suddenly, images appeared, and my world tilted on its axis.

Gianna. My Gianna. She was alone in a dressing room, a vision in white. The wedding dress hugged her curves, making her look like an angel—my angel. My heart swelled with love and longing.

But the tender moment shattered as a man appeared in the mirror, creeping down the hallway toward her. I watched in horror as he stripped, his body contorting and expanding into a massive wolf.

“Shit,” I hissed, panic clawing at my throat. This wasn’t just a theft—it was a hit. And Gianna was the target.

My mind raced. Where the hell was Elena? The guards? Had they all collectively decided to take a coffee break at the worst possible moment?

I clutched the mirror tighter, my knuckles turning white. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to rush to Gianna’s side, to protect her from the danger she didn’t even know was coming. But I was across town and time was ticking.

I glared at Petar, my eyes narrowing to slits. The mirror’s weight suddenly felt like a ticking bomb in my hand. “Does this mirror show the present or the future?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

Petar’s eyes darted between my face and the mirror, his expression a mix of greed and fear. “Give it to me,” he said, reaching out with trembling fingers.

In a flash, my patience snapped like a dry twig. I lunged forward, my hand closing around Petar’s throat with vampire speed. I lifted him off the ground, his feet dangling uselessly as he clawed at my iron grip.

“Tell me. Now.” Each word was a growl, dripping with barely contained fury. I could feel Petar’s pulse racing under my fingers, smell the fear rolling off him in waves.

He sputtered and gasped, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. “It...it shows...half-truths,” he choked out.

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