Page 73 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Enzo put a finger to his lips and pointed.

Deep in the shadows of the church, I spotted Angelo, Trystan, and Keir. Or at least I thought it was the Unseelie king—something about his presence made the air shimmer, like a heat mirage. What were they doing? We didn’t have enough men. This wasn’t going to work. Evil radiated from below like heat from an open furnace, making my skin crawl and my power curl in on itself.

Angelo, what are you doing? I’m here.

He heard my mental call, his head snapping up to meet my gaze, and my heart stuttered. His eyes weren't just murderous—they blazed with a fury I'd never seen before, ancient and lethal, that made even Enzo suck in a sharp breath beside me.

Balthazar strutted around the church like he was on stage at a rock concert, all arrogance and raw power. His bare chest gleamed with sweat in the candlelight, black leather pants clinging to him like a second skin. Every movement screamed predator, but not like Angelo’s controlled danger—this was chaos barely contained in human form.

He glanced up at our hiding spot and I jerked back so hard I nearly fell, my heart trying to hammer its way out of my chest.I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still feel his gaze burning through me. Beside me, Enzo’s body went rigid, his hand already reaching for the weapon at his hip. The gesture told me everything—a man like him didn’t survive this long by ignoring his instincts. We’d been made. Balthazar had been playing us this whole time.

His chuckle echoed through the church as he took the dybbuk box from Petar, the sound crawling down my spine like ice.

“Open it,” Petar urged, his eyes darting to the dark corner where Keir, Trystan, and Angelo lurked like gathering storm clouds. “They’re all here.”

Balthazar’s grin spread slow and terrible across his face. “Oh, yes. I know they are.”

The double doors of the church burst open with a thunderous crack, and those red-eyed horrors swept in on leather wings. Balthazar didn’t even blink. He mumbled something in a language that hurt my ears and the dybbuk box opened. Black smoke burst from within—not like regular smoke, but something alive and hungry. It slammed into the creatures with the force of a runaway train, and they dropped from the air like dead birds, their bodies hitting the stone floor with wet splatters.

The black smoke twisted toward us like a living nightmare, moving with horrible, deliberate purpose. Enzo yanked me back from the window, but the smoke followed—hungry, searching. It swirled around us, and then… The voices started. Not multiple voices like Louis. These were ancient, speaking in a language that made my ears bleed and my soul try to crawl out of my skin. They whispered promises of pain, of eternal darkness, of things worse than death. My blood felt like it was trying to escape my body, every cell screaming in protest at the unspeakable evil surrounding us.

Razor-sharp claws dug into my flesh, and the world blurred into a tornado of black smoke and screaming voices. My stomach lurched as I was ripped through the air, then slammed down onto the altar. The carved symbols burned into my back like branding irons, and I could feel Valentin’s blood, still warm, soaking into my clothes.

Angelo’s roar shook the church foundations as he burst from the shadows, a blur racing toward me. The moment he crossed the pentagram’s edge, he froze mid-stride. It was as if he’d hit a wall. Horror replaced rage on his face—Angelo, my unstoppable Angelo, trapped like a fly in amber.

“Balthazar, you will release me.” His voice carried death, but there was something else there too—fear. If Angelo was afraid...

Balthazar’s eyes had gone completely black, and something moved beneath his skin, pressing against it from the inside, trying to break free. His laugh spread across my skin like poisoned honey. “Oh, no. The fun is just about to begin.”

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Angelo

My feet might as well have beenencased in concrete—I couldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch my toes against the filthy church floor. The pentagram blazed around me like living fire, its light pulsing in time with Valentin’s heartbeat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. We’d walked right into his trap.

Serenity was sprawled across Valentin until Balthazar dragged her off, throwing her down within the pentagram. She landed hard on her hands and knees ten feet away from me, her eyes wide with fear as the symbols pulsed beneath her. Every instinct screamed at me to reach her, to tear apart anything between us, but I couldn’t move. I, the vampire king of New Orleans, couldn’t even cross this corrupted ground to protect what was mine.

My gaze swept to where Rose, Gianna, and Enzo were pinned against the wall like insects in a collection, held by invisible chains that reeked of dark magic. Enzo met my eyes with a look that carried years of shared violence. He knew what would happen when I got free. We both did. The last time someone haddared chain my people like this, I’d spent a month teaching New Orleans exactly why you didn’t cross Angelo Santi.

But this time was different. This time they had Serenity. And the rage that filled me wasn’t just the cold fury of a mafia king—it was something ancient and terrible that made even the shadows around me grow darker.

The black smoke writhed overhead like a nest of serpents, and my stomach lurched as understanding hit me. Our plan had been so simple: grab the dybbuk box, rescue Valentin, break Balthazar’s power. Keir had been certain that Valentin’s blood was the key—the catalyst that made the whole spell work. In a flash, I understood why.

Balthazar’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he looked toward where Keir and Trystan were hiding. Of course he’d want Valentin’s blood—he was part Dark Demon, something that made him rare and lethal even among vampires. His blood was unique—an accelerant that could amplify Balthazar’s darkest spells. Valentin’s father had been one of the deadliest Dark Demons in existence, a creature that could shift into any form and whose very blood was pure poison.

That’s what Balthazar was really after—that inherited venom running through Valentin’s veins. Keir had figured it out too late: break the pentagram, stop Valentin’s blood from feeding the spell, and Balthazar’s whole plan would crumble.

But now we were trapped, and that toxic demon blood was about to give Balthazar exactly what he wanted. The black smoke—writhing with faces of the damned, their silent screams visible in its churning depths—raced over my head and shot toward Keir and Trystan’s hiding place like a heat-seeking missile of pure malevolence.

Release me,” Keir demanded, his voice carrying all the authority of the Unseelie throne. “Or I’ll show you what true power—“ But before he could finish, the smoke wrapped aroundhis throat. His jaw snapped shut as if gripped by an invisible hand, and he thrashed his head back and forth, fighting for words that wouldn’t come.

Trystan, still in his massive wolf form, snarled and lunged—but the smoke was faster. It seized him like a living chain, slamming him against the wall and holding him there like a muzzled beast. His claws scraped uselessly against stone as he fought the bindings.

The smoke wasn’t done. It coiled around them both with terrible purpose, crushing them against the wall. Bones cracked as the dark force pinned them in place beside Enzo, Rose, and Gianna. They all hung there together, faces twisted in silent agony as the supernatural chains slowly tightened, promising a long and agonizing death.

The evil in the church twisted around me, making it hard to breathe, to think. The very air felt tainted by whatever ancient horror the Nightshade witches had locked away in that dybbuk box. No wonder they’d bound it—this wasn’t just dark magic, this was something older, something that had existed before light itself.

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