Page 31 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

“Her name is Shannon Bayer. She’s a waitress at Crimson Stakes,” Balthazar answered, his voice darkly amused.

Oh, god. Angelo was being set up again. Another girl connected to him, another victim to strengthen the police’s suspicions. All those women and now this one—all leading back to Angelo.

Maybe Balthazar had something to do with Joy’s disappearance too.

The demon shoved me away with supernatural strength, sending me sprawling on the blood-slicked floor. Before I could even cry out, he lunged at Shannon with inhuman speed, his movement a blur of deadly grace.

“No!” she screamed, trying to scramble away, her newly healed body betraying her with weakness. The sound was pure terror, echoing off the walls like a death knell.

Balthazar easily caught her, his fingers leaving new bruises on her pale skin. His beautiful face transformed into something terrible. Fangs descended where there had been none before, longer and more vicious than any vampire’s I’d ever seen. He bit into her throat savagely, drinking the blood I’d just restored to her veins. The wet, grotesque sound of his ravenous feeding, nothing like Angelo’s controlled bites, turned my stomach.

“No, no, no,” I cried as I beat weakly on his back. Each blow was like hitting marble. My knuckles split, adding my blood to the horror around us. Tears streamed down my face as I watched all my healing work undone in seconds.

The woman stopped struggling, her eyes rolling back as her body went limp. He dropped her on the floor like discarded trash, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles, her breathing shallow again. When he turned to me, his face was a mask of blood, his smile crimson and cruel. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees, bile rising in my throat.

He wiped the blood away with elegant fingers, examining the red stains like an art critic studying a masterpiece. “Delicious. Heal her again.”

“You’re a vampire?” My voice was a broken whisper. But even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t quite right. He was something else, something even worse. The darkness rolling off him made my angelic blood scream.

“I can be anything I want, Serenity.” His eyes gleamed with ancient malice, shifting from demonic black to vampire red and back again. The sight made my head spin. “Now—heal the bitch.”

It was like a light went on in my head, illuminating all the pieces I’d been too blind to see. Every murdered girl, every accusation, every suspicion from the police—it all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. “You... You’re the one who’s been murdering all these girls in New Orleans and pinning the killings on Angelo.”

“True.” His smile widened, showing teeth still stained with Shannon’s blood. “It’s working well. The police suspect him, the wolves circle closer, and his own kind begin to doubt. Even Gianna questions her brother now.” He ran a finger through the pool of blood spreading around Shannon’s body, drawing patterns like a child playing with finger paints. “The mighty Angelo Santi, brought low by dead prostitutes and cocktail waitresses. Who would have thought it.”

He gestured to Shannon’s crumpled form. “Now, heal dear Shannon before she bleeds out. We have many more lessons ahead of us.” His eyes gleamed. “You, my sweet Nephilim, are going to help me destroy everything Angelo loves.”

The threat in his words made my soul shrink. What kind of monster had I been training with? What further horrors was he hiding behind that beautiful, terrible smile?

My heart screamed in my chest as I stared miserably at Shannon’s broken body.Angelo, please. I can’t do this alone. I can’t fight the darkness without you.The prayer came from deep within my soul, desperately reaching across the void between us.

Chapter

Seventeen

Serenity

My exhausted handstrembled as I pressed them against Shannon’s wounds. The familiar warm glow of healing magic sputtered weak as a dying candle. Where it had once flowed like a river, now it was barely a trickle.

“Again,” Balthazar commanded from somewhere above us. His boots scraped against the stone floor as he circled.

Shannon’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to?—”

Balthazar yanked her away from me and sank his fangs into her shoulder, making fresh blood bloom across it. She bit back a cry, and I myself couldn’t stop my own ragged gasp.

He released her and she fell onto the floor with a loud thud. “Again.” His voice was ice.

I gathered what fragments of my power remained, scraping the very bottom of my reserves. The magic came slower now, like honey in winter, and sweat beaded on my forehead as I forced it through my palms. Shannon’s wound gradually started to close, but spots danced at the edges of my vision.

Balthazar knelt next to me. “You can’t heal her?”

My lower lip quivered as I trembled beneath his gaze, waiting for him to beat me, to hurt me, to do to me what he had done to Shannon. How I hated showing him fear. “I’m trying.”

He reached out to touch me and I flinched, jumping back. He flashed me a sad look. “Little Nephilim, I would never hurt you.” It was difficult to believe him when he had blood running down his chin.

My arms shook with exhaustion and the room tilted and swayed. I couldn’t remember how many times we’d done this now—how many times I’d pulled her back from the brink only for Balthazar to feed again. His demon nature meant he didn’t need blood to survive. He was simply mimicking Angelo. But where Angelo could show moments of genuine tenderness, I was beginning to realize that Balthazar’s kindness always came with a price. His gentle touches were just another form of torment.

At the same time, I couldn’t stop trying to heal Shannon. Wouldn’t stop. Each healing took longer, drained me more, but I forced my magic to respond.

---