Page 30 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

I couldn’t tear my eyes from her face. There was something familiar about her features—she reminded me of Joy DuPont. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s friend. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists.

“You’re a monster. Did you do this? If you didn’t, was it Petar?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Petar was the only vampire I knew who had turned traitor and chosen to ally with the wolves.

Balthazar leaned closer, and I fought the urge to step back. Being so near a demon made my skin prickle with warning. “Are you quite sure Petar’s the only traitor in Angelo’s little family?”

Horror struck my heart like ice water. “There’s more?” I could hear the desperation in my own voice, hated it, but couldn’t hide it. Not when Angelo’s safety hung in the balance.

“You’ll learn the truth soon enough. Now: let’s proceed with our lesson.” He gestured casually to the girl as if she was a mannequin rather than a human being, his dismissal of life more terrifying than any show of cruelty.

I stormed past him and rushed over to kneel next to her. Her chest slowly rose, as if she was fighting for every breath. Her lips were crusted with blood, telling their own horror story. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” I stroked her hair and glanced up at Balthazar. “If I save her, will you promise not to kill her?”

“Kill her?” His smile was both beautiful and terrible as he gazed down at her without the slightest bit of compassion. “No. That’s not my intention.”

All I had seen in this place was pain and torture. At least, that’s what Gage had shown me in the mirror. The distant,vacant look in Louis’ eyes haunted me, and Steve DuPont—once so strong and defiant—now flinched at mere shadows. Whatever they’d done to shatter my friends’ minds, I couldn’t let them do the same to her. The young woman lay crumpled at our feet, her dark hair spread around her like spilled ink, chest barely moving.

“If I save her”…my voice came out steadier than I felt…“what are you going to do to her, then?”

He reached down and brushed her pale cheek. “You ask too many questions. Heal her and let me worry about the rest.”

A chill settled in my heart. The same cold smile he wore now—had Louis and Steve seen it before their minds shattered?

“Heal her like I taught you yesterday.” I suspected if I didn’t, he’d kill her—and make me watch.

I placed my hands over her heart, feeling it flutter weakly. Balthazar’s cold energy pressed against me, urging me to force the healing. But Angelo’s words from my dream echoed:Remember who you are. Your power comes from love and the desire to heal—not control.

Balthazar was circling us like a shark, his shadow falling over me as he watched. His presence felt like cruel fingers trying to pull me deeper into the darkness. “Take control,” he whispered urgently. “Command her body to heal. Make it yours.”

I thought back to how gently I’d healed Enzo. That power had flowed from love, not force. I closed my eyes, trying to find balance between what Balthazar demanded and what I knew in my heart to be right. I might have to reach into the darkness, but that didn’t mean I had to surrender myself to it.

Tingling sensations moved over my palms, cold and demanding. I kept my eyes closed, focusing entirely on the feel of my power as it swirled around my fingers like ice water. Balthazar made a small sound of approval, but I wasn’t done. Beneath that freezing energy, I let my own power rise up, warmand golden. Not fighting the darkness—transforming it. Where Balthazar’s power wanted to command, I used it to guide. Where it wanted to take, I taught it to give.

The two powers danced together beneath my skin. His ancient magic, heavy with the weight of centuries and countless battles, hungered to dominate, to bend, to break. I wouldn’t let it. Instead, I wove my warmth through his frost, turning harsh edges gentle, softening iron into silk. It was like teaching a savage lion to purr—dangerous but possible with the right touch.

The woman’s body arched slightly as the dual energies flowed into her. I could feel everything—each torn vessel, each dying cell. Balthazar had shown me how to sense these things. Now, instead of forcing them to obey, I encouraged them to heal.

I opened my eyes. The purple light sought out the damage while the gold followed. Warmth filled me and I pushed it toward the woman, wanting to erase all her pain, all her misery. Each broken place inside her called to me like fragments of a shattered mirror desperate to be whole again. With each pulse of healing, I felt her pain lessen, felt life strengthening where death had tried to take hold.

The need to help and to heal burned through me stronger than any magic. Whatever Balthazar ultimately intended for her, in this moment I could at least give her this gift—freedom from pain, a chance at wholeness.

“Come on,” I whispered to her, ignoring Balthazar’s looming presence. “You can do it.” I poured my love and strength into her, remembering every person I’d ever wanted to protect. This wasn’t just about power—it was about choice. Choosing to keep my soul while walking through shadow.

I felt Balthazar’s tension growing behind me. This wasn’t exactly what he’d taught me, but he couldn’t deny it was working. The woman’s breathing deepened, color returning toher cheeks. My way wasn’t as fast as his, but it was just as strong—and it left no scars on my soul.

The light came back into the woman’s eyes, replacing that terrible emptiness. I smiled at her, wishing I could promise her safety in this hell. “Do you feel better?”

“Don’t let him hurt me again,” she whimpered, her fingers digging into my arm. The terror in her voice made my heart clench.

Balthazar clicked his tongue, the sound sharp as a blade. “You enjoyed it well enough before it became a little rough.” The woman shrank against me.

I helped her sit up, my arms shaking with exhaustion. “I won’t.” My promise to her felt hollow—I didn’t have the slightest idea how to protect her, especially now that every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

“You’re bleeding,” she gasped, her eyes wide with concern. Even after everything she’d been through, she was worried about me.

I touched my nose, and my fingers came away red. “Yes. Sometimes that happens when I heal.”

“That’s a sign of weakness,” Balthazar sneered. “Something we need to work on.” He moved closer, his shadow falling over us both. It was clear this lesson was far from over.

I looked at the woman, trying to offer what little comfort I could. “What’s your name?”

---