Page 59 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Chapter

Thirty

Angelo

The tensionin the room thickened until the air felt like steel against skin. My power rolled off me in waves, a reminder of why I ruled these territories. Trystan shifted uneasily and Keir lowered his gaze. They’d all seen what happened to the last person who threatened my mate.

Keir stopped thumping the armrest. “We need to have a plan of attack. I don’t believe an ambush would work this time. We did that at the abandoned plantation. They will be expecting it.”

Trystan glanced at him. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Sneak attack at dawn,” he said simply. “I’ll have Lorcan bring the harpies. And let me be clear…” Trystan leaned forward, rage emanating from him. “No one kills Gage except me.”

I locked gazes with Dimitri, centuries of blood debt in my voice. “Petar is mine.”

Dimitri raised his glass with a dark smirk. “By all means, have at Daddy Dearest. I’ll even gift wrap him for you. Betrayal’s kind of a family specialty, isn’t it?” He took a deliberate sip of bourbon. “Just do me a favor—make it hurt.”

The words hit like acid, burning through old scars. Betraying the Santi family and kidnapping my mate—each offense alone warranted death, but together? I’d make it legendary. “Trust me,” I said, ancient malice coloring my voice, “what I have planned will make my other punishments look merciful.”

Keir pulled out a map of St. Christopher’s Church and spread it open across the coffee table. “The church sits in the middle of one of the oldest graveyards in New Orleans. Look at how the oldest crypts are positioned—the Nightshade crypt, the Dixon tomb, and the old DuBois mausoleum. They form a perfect triangle around the church.”

“Three of the oldest crypts in New Orleans,” I murmured, tracing the triangle on the map. “Two of them built by the most powerful witch families in the state. Balthazar chose this church deliberately. He must be using the church as a focal point, with the three magically charged crypts surrounding it. Perfect setup for whatever ritual he’s planning.”

“What about wards?” Dimitri swirled his bourbon. “I’m betting our friendly neighborhood demon prince has the place locked down tighter than a nun’s habit.” His usual smirk faded. “The Nightshade crypt might give us an advantage, though. My sister-in-law’s family didn’t build it there by accident. Every magical current in New Orleans runs through that graveyard.”

Keir’s eyes narrowed. “Of course—your brother married the Nightshade witch. What can you tell us about the crypt?”

“Oh, somebody didn’t do their homework.” Dimitri’s dangerous smile widened as he lounged back. “That crypt isn’t just your average spooky family vault, believe me. My sister-in-law’s family has centuries of nasty surprises stored in there. We’re talking grimoires that would make your hair curl, artifacts that could level half of New Orleans...” He took a deliberate sip and chuckled. “Thanks to my brother’s excellent taste in wives, I know exactly where all the really fun toys are kept.”

Trystan pointed at the other two crypts. “What do we know about these?”

“The Dixon crypt’s a dead end,” Keir said. “High Priestess Abigail Dixon died not too long ago. But Peyton Storm, the new High Priestess at Goody Magic Academy, has been tracking dark power surges coming from St. Christopher’s Church.”

Trystan gave him a puzzled look. “She can sense them all the way from Salem?”

“The Dixons were clever,” Keir noted. “They built their tomb on a natural convergence point. That’s why Peyton can sense disturbances all the way from Salem. Their crypt acts like a magical antenna.”

I was trying to remember everything I knew about the witches in New Orleans, but I was drawing a blank. All my focus was on keeping Serenity safe. “And the DuBois family?”

“According to my sister-in-law, the DuBois family made quite the habit of marrying into both families over the centuries,” Dimitri drawled, his smirk widening. “Created one hell of a magical dynasty until they died out fifty years ago. But their crypt?” He raised his glass in mock toast. “Still holds enough combined power to make your average family feud look like a kindergarten spat. When witches do family drama, they do it with a bang. Literally.”

I pointed at the Nightshade crypt on the map. “Since we can’t get into the Dixon or DuBois crypts, we’ll start here. Balthazar might want something inside—or we might find something to use against him.” I glanced at Dimitri. “Call your sister-in-law. She might know what we’re looking for, and we need to know what magical defenses her family built into that crypt.

“The crypts are surrounded by tombs and mausoleums,” Keir pointed out. “Perfect cover for an ambush from either side.”

Trystan scanned the map thoughtfully. “My wolves can take the grounds. We know Gage’s scent—he won’t slip past us. Butall those graves...” He frowned. “Could be a problem if Balthazar decides to raise anything.”

“That’s the thing,” Dimitri said, pulling out his phone. “My sister-in-law says the Nightshade crypt was heavily warded against evil, including demons. Some old family grudge about a deal gone wrong.”

Keir glanced at each of us. “I suspect the other two crypts are warded against evil as well.”

Trystan had a puzzled look. “So Balthazar can’t enter any of the crypts?”

“No. He’ll have to use someone else to enter for him,” I said. “Someone that can get past the wards.”

“Gage?” Trystan suggested.

“Please.” Dimitri’s smirk turned sharp. “A wolf shifter? The Nightshades didn’t mess around with their wards—he wouldn’t make it past the first one without getting his tail singed.” His expression darkened. “Though I should suggest some creative additions to their defenses. Nothing says ‘keep out’ quite like a few specially crafted torture spells. My bad for not thinking of it sooner.”

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