Page 17 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

I pressed my hands into my lap to hide their trembling. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’d imagined human flesh, wouldn’t let him see how the hellhound’s attack had broken something in my mind. Angelo would have understood my fear without making me say it. But Angelo wasn’t here. I had only my captor, watching me with eyes that hungered for my pain.

“It doesn’t matter what I saw or what I smelled,” I said finally, gripping the edge of my chair. The half-truth felt bitter on my tongue, but revealing my weakness to him would be worse. Much worse.

He laughed. “I assure you it’s eggs. I wouldn’t feed you anything that grotesque. There are lower-class demons here who do feast on human flesh, but the higher-class demons like myself, we don’t engage in such primitive behavior.”

Was that supposed to make me feel better? His casual mention of demons eating human flesh made the eggs in front of me look even less appetizing. Everything in hell was tainted with horror, even his attempt at reassurance.

“I have a proposition for you.” His words screamed of darkness, dripping with the same silky menace as when he’d first dragged me to hell.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the headache building behind my eyes. “What kind of a proposition?”

“To protect your precious Angelo, I want you to do something for me.” He said Angelo’s name like it was something rotten.

My heart squeezed at the mention of Angelo, but I kept my face carefully blank. “Proposition? That doesn’t seem like a choice. What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to use your powers to cloak someone.”

“Cloak someone? I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know even know what that means exactly.” My voice wavered as cold dread pooled in my stomach. Sweat broke out across my skin despite the chill in the air. Failing Balthazar wasn’t an option—I’d seen enough of his cruelty to know what happened to those who disappointed him.

“Cloaking means you’ll make someone invisible.” He lifted his coffee cup, eyeing me over the rim as steam curled between us like serpents. “Just picture wrapping them in shadows, like pulling a dark curtain around them. Simple as that—they vanish.”

I carefully studied him, searching his face for any hint of his true intentions. His expression remained calculated and serene, but something flickered in his eyes—a hunger, a need that went beyond simple instruction. My skin prickled with unease. Every request from Balthazar came with hidden motives, costs he never revealed until it was too late.

“Why do you want me to do this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the apprehension in my chest.

He gestured toward my plate. “In order for you to learn how to cloak someone, you need to eat something.” The command in his voice was velvet-wrapped steel.

If I wanted to get out of here, I had to learn to be compliant, then maybe when Balthazar wasn’t watching, I could escape. The thought of eating made my stomach turn, but survival meant playing his game—for now. Angelo would understand. He’d want me to stay alive, even if it meant pretending to bend to Balthazar’s will. I picked up my fork, its weight like an anchor in my hand.

He reached over and clasped my hand. His touch was cold, proprietary, like he was handling a prized possession rather than a person. “You need to eat before our special guest arrives.”

I forced myself to not yank my hand away, though every instinct screamed to break contact. “Special guest?”

“Yes. He will be here in an hour. I expect you to have eaten breakfast and have changed. Our lesson will start shortly.” His words were casual, as if he was discussing a normal tutoring session rather than whatever nightmare he had planned.

Tears pushed against the back of my eyelids, but I blinked them away. The last time he gave me a ‘lesson,’ he had tortured Shannon, shredding her throat with calculated cruelty then forcing me to heal her. I doubted cloaking someone would be any better. The memory of Shannon’s blood, of her screams, of my power surging helplessly through my hands—it all crashed over me like a wave. But I couldn’t let him see me break.

Not again.

Julienne returned with her eggs and bacon. She picked up her fork and quietly ate her eggs, but I caught the concern in her glance. Her presence should have been reassuring, but Balthazar’s catlike attention made everything feel like a trap. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a bite. It tasted like an egg—the familiar texture, the bland warmth—but I was terrifiedit wasn’t, especially when Balthazar gave me a catlike smile. His expression screamed that he was enjoying my fear, savoring each moment of doubt like a rare vintage of terror. Was this part of the torture too? Making me question every bite, turning even the simple act of eating into psychological warfare?

Like he commanded, I got ready for my lesson. I reluctantly took off Julienne’s pajamas—the last comfort I had—and put on a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and waited for my next trial, each heartbeat feeling like a countdown. I thought about calling out for Angelo again to warn him that Balthazar wanted me to cloak someone. Maybe if I did what Balthazar wanted, he would let his guard down and give me a chance to escape.

Our connection had always been strong enough for that, but would Balthazar sense it? Would he punish me—or worse, punish Angelo—if he caught me reaching out? The words burned in my throat, desperate to be spoken, but I swallowed them back. I couldn’t risk it. Not when Balthazar was already planning something that involved both my powers and a “special guest.”

I waited in the living room, sitting on the couch, my stomach tied into double knots. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten anything.

Julienne sat opposite me and put her hand on my thigh. “You know, if you do this, you’ll lose a little piece of your soul.”

I clutched my hands tight, knuckles turning white. “I will?”

“Yes. The demons, especially Balthazar, want you to use your power so they can control you or turn you into one of their minions.” Her ancient eyes held centuries of witnessed corruption. “Each time you use dark power, it leaves a stain that’s hard to wash away.”

Julienne’s warning settled like a stone in my stomach. What choice did I have? If I refused Balthazar, I’d remain trapped here forever—or worse, face whatever punishment he devised for disobedience. But if I followed his instructions, I mightbe surrendering something more precious than my freedom. I thought of Angelo, of the others who needed me. Would they even recognize what I became if I let darkness seep into my soul bit by bit? The power might start as a tool, but tools change their users as much as users employ tools.

I swallowed hard, the weight of impossible choices pressing down on me. Survival now versus salvation later. Freedom versus purity. There had to be a middle path—a way to appear compliant without truly surrendering.

“Julienne, the only way to get out of here is to convince the jury that I am compliant. I have to play the game.”

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