Page 43 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

If it was only enough for one—Angelo or Dimitri—either way, Gianna would never forgive me.

But in our world, every family had a hierarchy. Angelo was my captain, my blood brother.

Some choices weren’t really choices at all.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Serenity

I staredat where Rocco had been sitting, the empty chair a hollow reminder of how quickly things could change. He’d been so pale, unnaturally still, hadn’t even opened his eyes. The memory of his lifeless face made my chest ache. He was a born vampire. What happens when a born vampire’s powers are drained? The question haunted me, making my throat tight. Balthazar had taken him back to New Orleans, sweeping in like the demon lord he was, darkness and power pulsing around him in a corrupting aura that made the air itself feel contaminated.

I’m not sure why he had taken Rocco back to New Orleans or exactly where he was taking him. I doubt he was taking him back to the palace. Returning Rocco to his home would be the kind thing to do, but kindness wasn’t part of Balthazar’s vocabulary.

Maybe he planned to make a grand statement, to lord over his authority like he always did. To remind us all who held the real power, as if we could ever forget. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, every muscle screaming for rest, but the taint of his demonic energy still lingered in the air, keeping me on edge.

Julienne was still missing, her absence like an open wound. I could have really used her company and her advice right now. Maybe that’s the reason why Balthazar had separated us. She was disrupting his plans and he wouldn’t tolerate that, the control freak that he was. The only reason why she was alive was because of Dracula. He needed her. The minute he didn’t need her…my stomach churned at the thought. He would turn her out of his house into hell—or the ghetto has he liked to call it—his voice dripping with feigned civility.

My stomach growled for the third time, a painful reminder of how long it had been since I’d eaten. The buffet Balthazar had left mocked me from across the room: chicken and beef fajitas, guacamole, rice, refried beans and tortillas. The smell should have been mouthwatering, but it just made me nauseous. I refused to touch it. What if it was an illusion? Another trick, like that foul drink he’d forced down my throat? The memory of that taste made me gag.

Angelo, hurry.

The hellhounds clawed at the front door again, their scratching like nails on my soul. I could hear the wood splintering, each crack a countdown to when they’d break through. My heart hammered against my ribs. I wasn’t going to sit here like a Quarter Pounder waiting to be picked up.

Not this time.

I needed my ally. I couldn’t leave Julienne behind—not after losing Joy. Whatever slim chance I had of escaping Balthazar’s clutches would improve with Julienne at my side. I got off the couch, my muscles protesting every movement. The hallway that led to my bedroom seemed longer in the dim light, shadows clustering in the corners. There were other doors that I’d never opened. Maybe Julienne was in one of those. I just hoped none of them opened onto something else, like a hellhound taking a nap. The thought made my heart skip.

I knocked softly on the first door on the other side of mine, trying to keep the sound from echoing. “Julienne, Julienne, are you in there?” My whisper seemed too loud in the silent hallway.

No answer.

Not a sound, not even the creak of floorboards or rustle of fabric.

I clutched the doorknob, the metal cool against my palm, then turned it. The door opened to reveal a beautiful room that felt like a mockery of comfort. A king sized bed with silk sheets, a fireplace with ornate carvings, and antique furniture that belonged in a museum. Who would need a fire in hell? The empty chair by the cold hearth seemed to taunt me. But there was no sign of Julienne, just another pretty cage in Balthazar’s collection.

I closed the door and moved to the next one, my heart beating faster with each step. This one opened to reveal a room that reeked of power and privilege. A long oval table of polished mahogany dominated the space, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs that looked like thrones. A fireplace stretched along one wall, its mantle carved with scenes I didn’t want to look at too closely. Opposite stood a bookcase filled with ancient-looking volumes, their spines marked with symbols that made my eyes hurt.

A bar gleamed in the corner next to the bookcase, stocked with liquor bottles whose contents shimmered with unnatural colors. Crystal decanters caught what little light there was, throwing prismatic shadows on the walls. It was the fanciest meeting room I’d ever seen, but something about it made my skin crawl. Was this where Balthazar conducted his business with other demons? How many souls had been bargained away across that table?

Time pressing against me, I hoped Balthazar didn’t return. He could rip my throat out like he did to Shannon or, worse,torture Julienne. I hurried to the next door. I didn’t bother knocking. Balthazar could return any minute, and if I missed this chance to find Julienne, I might not get another. The thought of losing her forever made my hands shake as I turned the handle.

To my surprise, it opened easily. Balthazar had said her room had been locked—was this another of his lies, or had someone else unlocked it? I didn’t have time to question my luck.

This time I hit pay dirt, and the relief nearly brought me to my knees.

Julienne lay asleep on a pink duvet, looking impossibly peaceful in this place of demons. A delicate canopy draped over her like a protective cloud. Her long blonde hair spilled across a white lacy pillowcase like liquid gold, and for a moment, she looked so much like an innocent sleeping beauty that I almost forgot where we were. But the faint bruise on her cheek told a different story.

I rushed over to her and shook her shoulder. “Julienne, Julienne, wake up.”

But she didn’t stir, didn’t even exhale. Her skin felt cold under my hands.

Panic gripped me, squeezing my ribcage until each breath became a struggle. Oh my god, had Balthazar killed her? He said he needed her to control Dracula. It didn’t make sense; even demons kept their word, didn’t they? The room suddenly felt too small, too quiet.

“Julienne, please wake up.” I grabbed both her shoulders and shook her harder, my fingers digging into her flesh. But her eyelashes didn’t even flutter against her pale cheeks. She was like a beautiful, broken doll in this demon’s dollhouse.

“She’s not dead.”

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