Page 71 of Chains of Blood and Darkness

The detective shook his head in disbelief, clearly taken aback by my unexpected cooperation.

I also didn’t miss the flash of surprise that crossed Costin’s and Rankin’s faces, nor the slight widening of Lorenzo’s and Enzo’s eyes. But there was a method to my madness, a carefully calculated reason behind my apparent compliance. And my men knew better than to doubt Angelo Santi’s decisions, even if they didn’t fully understand them in the moment.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Angelo

As the coroner prepared to remove the body, Detective Flanagan wasted no time in deploying his men to scour the grounds of the Santi estate. With a series of barked orders, he sent them haring off in all directions, their eyes keen and their movements precise as they began their search for any shred of evidence that might link me to Emily's death. I watched them carefully, a sense of relief washing over me as I noted the glazed look in their eyes—a telltale sign that my earlier compulsion was still firmly in place.

Despite the countless pictures of Serenity they had undoubtedly seen, they would look right at her without a flicker of recognition. It was a necessary precaution, one that would keep her safe from their scrutiny, at least for now. The thought of them recognizing her, of them trying to take heraway from me, actually put an icy fear in my heart. I hadn’t experienced fear for centuries. She was mine and I would kill anyone who tried to take her from me.

Surprisingly, Flanagan insisted that Tarus and Rankin remain in the foyer. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were working with the police and that their true purpose here was to observe my reactions, to catch any tiny flicker of unease or infinitesimal hint of guilt that might cross my features.

As the next couple of hours ticked by, I carefully maintained an air of calm detachment, even as the sound of footsteps and the occasional murmur of voices echoed throughout the halls. The detective’s men were very thorough, leaving no room unsearched, no potential hiding place unexplored. They rifled through drawers, peered behind furniture, even tapped on walls, clearly hoping to uncover a hidden compartment or secret passage.

But just as I had anticipated, their painstaking efforts yielded nothing. There was no evidence to be found, no smoking gun that could tie me to the crime. I had been meticulous in all my dealings, always careful to keep my hands squeaky clean and my tracks well covered.

Eventually, their search led them to my bedroom, where Serenity still lay sleeping. I refused to stay back and hovered over them as they entered. Watching her sleep, a momentary calm washed over me—the rage and tension that had been simmering inside me temporarily stilled. Elena had tenderly washed her face, and with her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, she looked serenely peaceful, like Sleeping Beauty herself.

A fierce protectiveness surged through me, tightening myjaw and clenching my fists at my sides. I silently vowed that if they dared to disturb her peace, none of them would walk out of that bedroom alive.

Elena glared at the detectives and put her hands on her hips. “What is the meaning of this interruption,messieurs? The littlemademoiselleisn’t feeling well and should not be disturbed.”

One of the detectives frowned and gestured toward Serenity. “What’s wrong with her?”

As the men approached the bed, Elena stepped forward, her posture protective and her voice getting even more firm. “If you must know, she gets les migraines and did not sleep last night.” Elena flicked her hands at them. “S’il vous plaîtes, leave.”

The officers exchanged glances, perhaps weighing the wisdom of challenging the older but formidable woman who stood before them.

In the end, they chose to retreat, unwilling to push the issue further. As they begrudgingly filed out of the room, I caught Elena’s eye, silently conveying my gratitude for her quick thinking and unwavering loyalty.

As the search wound down and the officers began to reassemble in the foyer, the frustration on Detective Flanagan’s face grew more apparent. Despite his best efforts, he had found absolutely nothing to support his suspicions, not one shred of evidence. It was a small victory, but one that I savored, even though I had no doubt Detective Flanagan would return soon, armed with a search warrant.

Once the detective and his team had departed, I turnedmy attention to Keir and Costin, my gaze hardening as I studied their expressions.

“Now why don’t you two tell me the real reason you’re here? And please spare me the fairy tale about overhearing the commotion. One of you tipped off the police. I want to know why.”

Costin met my accusation with an unwavering stare, his voice dripping with self-righteousness. “A gentleman has to fulfill his civic duty, Angelo. Surely you can understand that.”

The urge to wrap my hands around the headmaster’s throat was nearly overwhelming, but I kept my arms firmly at my sides, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. “I didn’t kill her,” I said through grit teeth, my jaw muscles twitching from the effort of containing my anger. I could feel the heat of my fury rising within me, my heart pounding in my ribcage as I fought to maintain my composure. My eyes drew to slits as I wished for all the world I could shoot lasers into the headmaster’s eye sockets, melting his head like steel.

A slow, calculating smile spread across Costin’s face. “So you say, Angelo. But let’s not forget, this is the fourth victim. Dracula will undoubtedly learn of these events at this point, and then it’s only a matter of time before he descends upon New Orleans.” His gaze swept over my home, taking in every detail. “Tell me, did the Nephilim really destroy your home and then repair it again? Remarkable.”

I met his question with a humorless chuckle. “Why bother asking when you already know the answer, Costin?”

The headmaster’s eyes glittered with malice. “Perhaps Isimply want to hear you admit it, Angelo. The power of the Nephilim is not to be taken lightly—here you stand, your home miraculously restored. One can only imagine the heady implications.”

I stood my ground, refusing to be baited by his insinuations. “The only thing not to be taken lightly here is that you’ve chosen to involve yourself in matters that don’t concern you, Costin. I suggest you tread very carefully, or you may find yourself in over your head.”

Keir, who had remained silent thus far, stepped forward, his face a neutral mask. “We’re not here to make threats, Angelo. But you must understand the gravity of the situation. If Dracula comes to New Orleans, the consequences could be dire, not just for you but for all of us.”

I met Keir’s gaze head-on. “Then perhaps it’s time we stopped playing games and started working together to find a solution.”

Costin glanced at his watch, then gave me a cool, calculating look. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, Angelo. Classes at Red Rose will be breaking for lunch soon, and there are matters there that demand my attention.”

As he spoke, his dark eyes glittered with an unsettling intensity, and for a brief moment something flashed behind them—a warning, or perhaps a promise of things to come. A power unlike anything I had encountered since my turning in Italy flowed from him, causing me to instinctively take a step back. The air around us crackled, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Costin Tarus was an ancient vampire, centuries older than myself, but I had never thought he was anything likeVlad. Suddenly, however, I found myself wondering if he was as powerful as my maker.

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