Page 49 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Balthazar moved beside me, his presence a dark shadow at my shoulder. “Very good, Serenity. Very good.” His voice dripped with satisfaction, the words coated in a greed so thick I could almost taste it.

Poison’s light pulsed and flared against her bonds, a desperate constellation fighting extinction. Each surge of brightness felt like a wordless scream, her celestial essence battling against the drain with every fragment of her being. She wasn’t just fighting the drain—she was fighting for her very life.

Then, like a whisper of wind through dying leaves, a voice threaded through my mind.“Don’t let him win, Serenity. You have to hang on. They’re coming.”

My heart lurched. For a moment, I thought Julienne had broken free of her spell, that she’d found a way to reach me. But no—echoes of starlight and steel infused every syllable. Poison. She’d found a way into my thoughts.

I can’t. He’ll hurt Angelo.

My response was a mental whimper, the words tasting of defeat and shame.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, child,” Poison’s mental voice swirled through my mind like a whirlwind, heavy with regret and resolution.

The light surrounding her suddenly inverted, celestial radiance collapsing into a void darker than night. The force hit me like an avalanche of arctic ice, a cosmic fist that slammed into my temples with the weight of a falling star. The world spun as I crashed onto the polished stone floor. Black stars erupted across my vision, each one a pinprick of pain that threatened to tear my consciousness apart.

Through the encroaching darkness, I thought I heard Balthazar curse. But his words were distant, drowned out by the roar of power and pain flooding through my skull.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in deep enough to leave bruises even on my Nephilim skin. With demonic strength, he yanked me to my feet, my vision still swimming with those dark stars. “You stupid, stupid girl.” Each word dripped with venom as his grip tightened. “Finish her.”

Through the haze of pain, Poison’s voice whispered in my mind again. “I’ve sent a message to Raphael. Hold on, child. Just hold on.”

“Let go of me,” I whispered, as another wave of her power threatened to split my skull. The celestial energy writhed insideme like living lightning, searching for escape. “Please... she’s too powerful. I can’t... I can’t contain it.”

His face twisted into something inhuman, all pretense of sophistication burning away to reveal the demon beneath. With a snarl that would have made hell’s hounds cower, he seized me and hurled me across the room as if I weighed nothing.

The leather couch—the one that had seemed so absurdly luxurious just moments ago—became a weapon. I crashed into it with bone-jarring force, my head smashing into the ornate armrest. The impact sent shockwaves through my skull, and this time the darkness that flooded over me had nothing to do with celestial power. Balthazar’s twisted face lingered in my sight as consciousness slipped away, his eyes burning with a fury that promised this was only the beginning of my punishment.

But beneath that rage, I caught something else—a flicker of pure terror. Raphael was coming, and even hell itself might not be enough to hide Balthazar from an archangel’s wrath.

Power burst through me as if a sun had erupted inside my chest, turning my blood to liquid fire. The pain hit next—a searing, splitting agony that ripped across my shoulder blades. I rolled onto the floor, my body convulsing as something pushed against my skin from within. The sensation was alien, terrifying—like new limbs fighting to break free from my flesh.

My mind screamed for unconsciousness, for any escape from this metamorphosis, but the power wouldn’t let me fade. It held me there, forced me to feel every excruciating second as my body reshaped itself. Whether it was my power or Poison’s, I couldn’t tell anymore—the boundaries between us had blurred into a storm of celestial energy.

I arched my back, a scream tearing from my throat as the pressure built to impossible levels.

“Your power has come, Nephilim.” Balthazar’s voice cut through my agony, thick with dark satisfaction. “You have wings. Now I will drain you.”

“No.” The word came out through gritted teeth, more growl than speech. Something inside me shifted, and suddenly I was airborne, my newly emerged wings spreading wide in defiance. They moved with a will of their own, powerful and strange and somehow perfectly familiar all at once.

Divine energy coursed through every fiber of my being as I hung suspended in the air. The words came to me then, not so much spoken as torn from my very soul. “Angelo, come to me!”

White light exploded from within me, so bright it turned the shadows of hell into nothingness. The boom that followed shook the very foundations of Balthazar’s mansion, shattering every crystal fixture in a rainfall of glittering shards.

As the power finally released me, I collapsed to the floor. But I wasn’t helpless anymore—my wings, opalescent and strong, wrapped around me like a living shield, a barrier between me and Balthazar’s wrath. Through the cocoon of feathers, I could hear him cursing, and for the first time since I’d entered hell, his rage held no power over me.

His fury manifested in pulses of corrupted energy that crashed against my wings, each impact like a thunderclap in the suffocating air of hell. The demon lord’s screams of frustration echoed through my sanctuary, words in languages too ancient and terrible for any mortal tongue. But my feathers remained unbroken, each one gleaming with a light that seemed to mock his darkness. I could feel him circling, searching for weakness, hurling both power and profanity at my shelter. The very ground beneath me trembled with his rage.

I pressed my forehead against my knees, gathering what strength remained to reach across the planes to Angelo. Even as Balthazar’s attacks intensified, turning the air around my wingsto acid and flame, I focused on that connection. The demon lord might be able to trap me here, but he couldn’t stop me from calling for help. Not anymore.

One last time, I reached out for Angelo.

He’s losing control. Balthazar... his rage... I can’t hold him back much longer.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Angelo

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