Page 42 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

She was brave, but she was out of her league. I towered over her, crowding her against a bookshelf. Books rattled behind her as she pressed back. The centuries of violence in my blood made even this small movement a threat. “Let me explain something to you. I’ve been enforcing rules since before your grandmother was born. Magic or no magic, that thing’s a weapon. And weapons?” I smiled, no warmth reaching my eyes. “Weapons are my department.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “I’m not some helpless human you can push around.”

“No.” I plucked the amulet from her hand with casual efficiency, the movement so smooth she barely had to time to blink. “Consider this a lesson in hierarchy,Tesoro.”

“Enzo, no!”

Searing pain shot through my arm. Worse than my first sunrise as a vampire, when light felt like it was peeling away my skin. The star’s light turned harsh, blinding—not just revealing demons, but stripping away every layer of control I’d built. Every execution, every message I’d delivered, every body I’d buried in an unmarked grave. Things I’d entombed deeper than any crypt.

I sank to one knee, refusing to fall completely. The amulet clattered to the floor, but I kept my spine straight. Even with black spots dancing in my vision, there were rules about showing weakness. Always rules.

“Take it, Rose,” I ordered through clenched teeth as a spasm of pain wrenched through my body. “Some weapons aren’t meant for soldiers.”

Rose picked up the amulet with trembling fingers and headed toward the door. I forced myself to stand, my legs still weak from the amulet’s attack, and followed her. I placed my hand on the wall to steady myself, stone cold against my palm. She held up the amulet, and everything changed.

White light exploded outward, flooding the graveyard like heaven itself had opened up. Stars danced in the beam, not gentle twinkles but razor-sharp points of burning light that cut through the darkness. The shadows between the crypts writhed and recoiled.

Steve’s scream pierced the night as he dove behind a crypt, his flesh smoking where the light touched him. “Get that thing away from me!”

Then the demons revealed themselves. The light stripped away their glamour like flesh from bone. Some were twisted nightmares—bodies bent at impossible angles, skin like rotting leather, eyes burning with hellfire. Others wore the faces of our own men, their features distorted by the evil within. Pascal, our driver, stood closest to the door, his eyes black as pitch, face contorted in a snarl that no human mouth could make.

I lunged forward and snagged his arm. The moment I yanked him inside, fire erupted across his skin like he’d been doused in gasoline. He flailed in my arms, his screams more animal than human. Centuries of enforcement taught you how to hold someone who didn’t to be held.

“Get a vial,” I growled at Rose. “We need his blood first.”

Without waiting for her response, I struck. My fangs tore into Pascal’s throat with practiced precision. His possessed blood tasted like acid, burning my tongue, but I didn’t stop. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rose dart forward, vial already in hand. I let the corrupted blood flow directly into it, careful not to spill a drop.

Pascal thrashed harder, the demon inside him realizing what we were doing.

“Do something with that amulet.” I refused to let go even though it was like holding onto a hot stove.

Rose slammed the amulet against his forehead. He screamed even louder, a sound that shook dust from the crypt walls. Black smoke poured from his mouth, writhing in the air before solidifying into its true form: a grotesque thing with scales like shattered obsidian and eyes that burned like coals. I released Pascal, who crumpled to the ground, and lunged for the demon.

My fingers closed around its arm. The cold bit into my skin like a Russian winter. The demon’s other hand whipped around, claws raking across my chest, but I locked my grip tighter. You don’t survive centuries in my line of work by letting go.

“Got any ideas how to bleed this thing?” I growled, muscles straining to hold it still.

“Keep it there!” Rose snatched an ancient dagger, its blade covered in strange markings. “This blade... the sigils will draw its blood. Just don’t let it turn to smoke!”

I tightened my grip on the struggling entity, sweat beading on my forehead. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

The demon thrashed even harder, sensing what was coming. I shifted my grip, using a hold I’d perfected on targets who thought they could escape. Rose pressed the amulet against the demon’s chest with one hand while the other slashed the blade across its throat.

Instead of blood, black liquid that seemed to absorb light itself oozed from the wound. It moved against gravity, crawling up the blade like it was being drawn to the glowing sigils. The demon howled, its voice resonating at a frequency that made my fangs ache.

“Quick,” Rose commanded, holding out a black glass vial. “Before it turns to smoke again.”

I snagged the vial and pressed it against the demon’s throat. The black liquid crawled down the sides like living tar, but before we could get the vial more than a quarter full, the demon’s form began to dissolve. Its flesh turned to smoke between my fingers, writhing upward through the crypt ceiling. Its screech echoed off the stone walls as it fled back into the night above.

I stared at the pathetic amount of blood in the vial. “Tell me this is enough.”

Rose looked at the vial then outside. The wolf shifters had changed back into their human forms, including Trystan. There were bodies scattered across the graveyard like fallen chess pieces, including Dimitri’s.

My chest constricted as if crushed by an invisible hand. Dimitri—the sarcastic bastard who’d fought at my side, who’dsaved my life more times than I could count. Who’d become family when I had none. I lurched forward, the world tunneling around me until there was nothing but his still form amid the carnage. Not him. Not after everything.

My legs threatened to give way beneath me, but I forced myself to stand, to breathe. He would have mocked my weakness, called me sentimental. The thought brought no comfort, only a hollow ache that threatened to consume me from within.

She met my gaze. “I hope so, because all the demons have vanished.”

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