Page 72 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Serenity

The same red-eyedcreatures I had seen lurking in the trees now had Angelo and Trystan in their twisted claws. Their wings blotted out the moon as they wheeled overhead, and something primal in my chest seized up at the sight of Angelo—my powerful, unstoppable Angelo—dangling helpless in their grip.

“Angelo! Angelo!” My screams tore my throat raw, but he couldn’t break free no matter how hard he fought. Each desperate blow he landed seemed to bounce off the creature’s scaled legs like it was made of stone. How was this possible? Nothing could overpower Angelo. Nothing.

The possessed wolves suddenly turned as one, racing toward the church like they were being pulled by an invisible leash. The synchronicity of their movement sent chills down my spine—something was controlling them, calling them back.

I had to help him. My hands still tingled with the power I’d used against the wolves, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Everything must be happening in that church. Maybe Joy was in there too. The thought of both of them trapped in thatcorrupted place made my chest tight with panic, but I couldn’t fall apart.

Not now.

Not when they needed me.

Enzo came up alongside me and grabbed my arm. He looked like he had gone through a meat grinder, blood matting his hair, deep gashes across his chest still weeping red. “You need to stay here in the crypt.”

“No.” I gritted my teeth, fury giving my voice an edged tone I’d never used with him before. “I’m not going to let him die.”

Rose and Gianna joined us, their clothes shredded and bloody, looking like survivors of a war zone. Gianna was one of the strongest women I knew, but right now she could barely stand, blood seeping from ugly claw marks across her ribs. Rose’s face was swollen where Gage had hit her, one eye nearly sealed shut and already darkening to purple, dried blood caking the corner of her mouth. Seeing them like this, broken but still standing, made my stomach turn. If they’d done this to Gianna and Rose, what might they be doing to Angelo?

Gianna put her hand on Enzo’s shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint on his torn dress shirt, his suit jacket long discarded. “She’s right, Enzo. As much as you don’t want to admit it, she can help us. She just saved my life.”

Enzo examined me with eyes that had seen too many people he cared about die. “How are you feeling?”

Usually I felt spent after my power came over me, but right now adrenaline rushed through me like a bulldozer, making my hands shake with the need to act, to fight, to save them.

I met his concerned gaze, letting him see the steel beneath my fear. “I’m fine, Enzo. We can’t stay here wasting time. Everyone we love is in that church about to be tortured or killed. Do you really want to fight me on going?”

I held my breath, waiting for his answer. There was no way I was going to stay stuck in the crypt like some helpless princess needing protection. Power swelled inside me, humming through my veins like electricity, and my skin still held that faint blue tinge—evidence of the storm brewing beneath my surface. Something had changed tonight. The girl who needed constant protection was gone, replaced by someone who had knocked down demon-possessed wolves like bowling pins. A tigress had been unleashed, and I was ready to bite, kick, and punch any demon that threatened Angelo, Joy, and everyone else I loved in that church.

Enzo wiped the sweat and blood off his brow with his other arm. “Angelo’s going to have my balls for breakfast for this. If you come with us, you have to do exactly as I say. Got it?”

“Got it.” I turned to run to the church.

Something flapped behind me and my heart tried to punch through my ribs. The sound—beating wings—oh god, not again. I whirled around, expecting to see the red-eyed horrors that had stolen Angelo, but instead I found myself staring at a massive bat. Before I could scream, clawed hands gripped my shoulders and the ground fell away beneath my feet.

I thrashed in panic until two more bats swooped alongside us, and recognition hit me like a slap. It was Enzo gripping my shoulders, firmly but carefully, and Rose and Gianna were flying beside us, dark shapes against the darker sky. My hysteria dissolved into wild laughter—of course they could turn into bats. They were vampires. Why was I even surprised anymore?

Below us, possessed wolves circled the church like sharks sensing blood in the water. Their red eyes tracked our flight, but we were well beyond their reach as Enzo lowered me onto the roof near a broken window. From up here, I could see just how many wolves surrounded the church—an army of corruption waiting to tear us apart if we fell.

Below I could see what looked like men that had been ripped apart, but instead of red blood, theirs was black—thick and slick like tar. My throat seized up as I watched the wolves tearing at the flesh and eating it, smacking their lips with obscene pleasure. The wet sounds of their feasting carried up to us, and I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat.

Gianna shifted and followed my gaze. “Those are Unseelie that Gage’s wolves are feasting on. The Unseelie are magical, and I suspect no matter what spell possesses those wolves, eating Unseelie flesh would strengthen it and make them even more powerful.”

My stomach clenched so hard I doubled over, pressing my fist against my mouth to keep from being sick. The wolves below kept gorging themselves, black blood dripping from their muzzles, and all I could think was: this was what Joy might have seen. This was what Louis might have done. The sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone echoed in my ears, and the world tilted sideways. I’d seen death tonight, seen Louis torn apart, but this—this was something else. This was monsters making themselves stronger by eating other monsters.

Balthazar stood with a hooded figure and Petar, but they weren’t the ones that made my stomach heave. A dark-haired man lay stretched across the altar like a sacrifice, his bare chest a canvas of carved symbols that seemed to writhe in the red light. Each symbol looked wrong, like something that shouldn’t exist in our world—and looking at them directly hurt my eyes.

Blood—his blood—didn’t just drip from the altar, it moved with terrible purpose, snaking through the grooves of a pentagram like it was alive. The symbols pulsed with each beat of his heart, as if they were feeding on his life force, and with each pulse, the shadows in the church grew deeper, hungrier. Something ancient and evil was awakening beneath those carved runes, and I could feel its cold touch even from here.

Two men held Dimitri, who thrashed against their grip, a gag in his mouth. His eyes were fixed on the man on the altar—his brother, I realized with horror. That was Valentin. The one whose blood they were using for...whatever unholy ritual was taking place below.

Everything about the scene felt evil—the way the blood moved, the shadows that seemed to reach for Valentin’s body, the air itself that rippled like heat waves above the pentagram. Even from here, I could feel the malevolence pressing against my skin like oily fingers.

But where were Angelo and Trystan and those winged creatures?

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