Page 12 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

There was something else too that made my ancient blood run cold—a presence, dark and malevolent, hovering just out of sight. The unmistakable taint of powerful evil permeated the vision.

Demon.

The word flashed in my mind, certain and terrifying.

The vision fizzled out, leaving me gasping and shaking. I stumbled back from Dimitri, the blade clattering to the floor. A feral growl rumbled in my chest as my predatory nature took over.

Dimitri just looked at me, fresh fear etched on his battered face.

I whirled on him, my vision tinted red with fury. “Someone’s hurting Serenity,” I snarled, snatching up the blade. “She’s alive, but she’s injured and... There’s something else there. An evil presence. Demonic.”

Dimitri’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut widened in genuine shock. “Demonic?! Angelo, I swear, I don’t know anything about?—”

A pounding on the door cut him off. Enzo’s deep voice came through the thick wood. “Boss, it’s important. You’re going to want to hear this.” At the same time, I heard Gianna’s voice, frantic and muffled. “Angelo! Angelo, stop! You need to hear what I have to say! Don’t listen to Enzo. He’s lying!”

She sounded so desperate. It must be something truly horrible for her to be turning on Enzo.

I stood frozen, torn between my burning desire to continue extracting information from Dimitri and my need to hear what Gianna and Enzo were arguing about. Serenity’s plea rang in my ears, her bruised neck and the evil presence flashing in my mind. Every second wasted was a second she remained in unimaginable danger.

“Tick tock, Angelo,” Dimitri whispered, his voice still wheezing but with a hint of his old smugness. “Sounds like the cavalry’s here. What’s it going to be?”

Chapter

Six

Serenity

As the sunbegan its descent over the bayou, I turned my attention back to the untouched plate before me. The aroma of spicy shrimp jambalaya wafting up, normally so enticing, now served only to turn my stomach. I pushed the plate away, the fork clattering harshly against the ceramic in the quiet room.

My appetite had been replaced by a gnawing anxiety that tightened my throat. The thought of Gage with his hands around my neck made even the idea of swallowing difficult. I stood, leaving the cooling jambalaya, and moved closer to the barred window.

Outside, the bayou was transforming in the fading light. The setting sun painted the sky with vibrant oranges and purples, its reflection shimmering in the murky water below. Cypress trees cast long shadows across the swamp, their silhouettes stretching like dark fingers over the water’s surface.

As twilight deepened, a chorus of frogs began their nightly serenade, their croaks echoing across the water. The humid air carried the rich, earthy scent of decaying vegetation mixed withthe sweet fragrance of blooming magnolias, overpowering the aroma of the abandoned meal behind me.

In the growing darkness, fireflies emerged, their tiny lights blinking on and off, and an owl hooted in the distance. Its mournful call sent a shiver down my spine—or perhaps that was from the memory of Gage’s threat, and the impending visit to the wolf mafia king’s estate to heal the Luparion Crystal.

As the last light faded, the sounds of nocturnal creatures grew louder, a symphony of chirps, croaks, and rustles that spoke of a world blissfully oblivious to my predicament. I pressed a hand against the cool glass, my reflection ghostly in the window, and listened to them, hoping they might soothe my fear.

The creak of the opening door sent a jolt through my body, causing my heart to race. “Time to go, beautiful.” Balthazar’s words felt like a death knell.

I stiffened, my muscles tensing as if preparing me for a fight or flight response. Turning around, confusion gripped me. Dread swelled within me when I saw Balthazar. Yet the sight of his bare, muscled chest glistening in the dim light stirred an instant attraction in me. I immediately felt ashamed. How could I feel anything but revulsion for my captor?

“What if I can’t heal the Crystal?” My voice quavered as I asked. The question hung heavy in the air, and cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I contemplated the possibility of failure and its consequences. Would death be preferable to whatever they had planned for me?

Balthazar’s outstretched hand seemed both an offer and a threat. “You will be able to heal the stone if you choose to—if you do so willingly. Come,” he commanded. The way he pointedly ignored my question amplified my fear, allowing my imagination to run wild with horrific possibilities.

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his, feeling as if I was sealing my own doom. The eerie sensation that washed over me once more at his touch sent shivers down my spine. It was a feeling of wrongness, of the unnatural, that penetrated to my very core. Confusion mingled with my fear; why did touching him feel so terrible and yet so pleasurable? Was this a normal reaction to all demons, or was it something unique to Balthazar?

I hated lacking this crucial knowledge and feeling so woefully unprepared, ignorant and helpless in the face of evil. If Angelo was to find me, he needed something to track, some way to reach me before it was too late. Meanwhile, my powers were uncontrollable, as I was constantly finding out. If I didn’t heal this wolf stone, I was a dead Nephilim.

As Balthazar led me out of the room, a cocktail of emotions swirled within me: fear of the unknown, shame at my body’s reaction to Balthazar and confusion over the strange sensations his touch evoked, and a deep, pervasive sense of vulnerability and powerlessness. Yet beneath it all, a small spark of defiance remained, urging me to stay alert and watch for any opportunity that might arise to change my fate.

That’s what Angelo would do. To survive, I was going to have to be ruthless, like him.

Balthazar led me down the hallway, my heart rate quickening with each step. At the far end, standing next to an exterior door, I could make out three figures waiting for us. Gage’s imposing silhouette was unmistakable, even at a distance, causing my breath to catch. The memory of his hands around my neck flashed through my mind, making me instinctively want to retreat.

As we drew closer, the figures came into sharper focus. Gage stood in the middle, his muscular frame tense and alert, ready to pounce. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto mine, making goosebumps erupt up all over my skin.

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