Page 55 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“Yes.” A satisfied smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Why did you wait so long? Vlad’s deal was centuries ago.” I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady my racing heart.

“True. I had to wait and discover what the most important thing to the archangel was.” His eyes glittered with dark triumph.

“What was so…” The pieces fell together like a jigsaw puzzle, making my wings shudder against my back. I stared at him as the horror of what he’d done washed over me like ice water. “My mom.”

“Archangels rarely fall in love.” He shook his finger. “But your father was different. He fell hard for your mother.”

My wings pulled tight against my back as a terrible thought struck me. “If that’s true, when she died, she would have met Raphael in heaven…” The words struck my heart. My mother’s soul should have gone to heaven. Should have found my father. Unless…

He broke out in a smile that made my made my lungs freeze, then opened his palm. A white ball of light materialized above his hand, pulsing with a soft, pearly glow that seemed to whisper of heaven itself. The orb danced above his palm, pure and pristine, radiating an energy that made the hair on my arms stand up. Something about its ethereal beauty seemed wrong in this place of darkness and demons.

Every hair stood on edge and my wings fluttered wildly, responding to my rising fear. “What is that?”

“A soul. Your mother’s soul to be exact.” His words hit me like a physical blow. “I couldn’t allow her to go to heaven and tell Raphael. He would have broken another plan. Something I couldn’t tolerate.” He cradled the light almost tenderly, making the gesture seem even more horrifying.

Any sorrow I had felt for Lucifer torturing him evaporated like mist in sunlight, replaced with a rage so intense it burned through my veins like liquid fire. My wings snapped wide. I rushed at him, desperate to save my mother, my fingersstretching toward the ball of light. But he flicked his hand with casual cruelty and my mother’s soul vanished.

“Bring her back!” I yelled, my voice raw with desperation.

He snagged my wrist, his fingers locking around me with predatory force that burned on contact. “No. She stays where she is.” His eyes glittered with malicious triumph. “When your father arrives to save the ‘angel in hell,’ you’ll drain his power, absorb it into yourself. Once he’s weakened...” A cruel smile spread across his face. “I’ll finally be able to kill him. And if you refuse...” His grip tightened until I thought my bones would snap. “I’ll crush your mother’s soul into nothingness. No heaven, no hell—just oblivion.”

Chapter

Thirty

Angelo

I wantedto scream at Vlad to hurry, but I kept my mouth shut as I paced back and forth in St. Christopher’s Church. The humid New Orleans air hung heavy even in the darkness, making the copper scent of old blood even stronger. The stained glass windows were broken out from our last battle, jagged shards of crimson and azure still clinging to their frames like broken teeth, letting in the sounds of distant jazz and the occasional rumble of streetcars. Valentin’s blood still stained the altar and the cypress wood floor, a dark reminder of what we’d sacrificed to get this far.

The air grew thick with tension as Vlad meticulously arranged the ingredients in a perfect circle around the altar. Wolf’s bane, its purple flowers still fresh despite their deadly nature. Dragon’s blood that seemed to pulse with its own inner light, captured in a crystal vial that had cost Keir more than he would admit. And finally, the hellish dust—a substance that looked like ground obsidian but moved like living smoke whendisturbed, a gift from Rose that had required both her vampire strength and witch’s magic to obtain.

Hang on Serenity, I’m coming.

My silent prayer echoed in my mind as I watched Vlad—Dracula himself—knelt before the altar. His usually commanding presence seemed somehow both more terrifying and more vulnerable as he began the ritual. The ancient vampire’s hands moved with practiced precision, though I could see the slight tremor in them that betrayed his own desperate need to rescue his mate. The sight made my own desperation claw harder at my chest. Every second we delayed was another second Serenity spent in hell. Another second closer to losing her forever.

Keir stood in the shadows, his Unseelie nature making the darkness around him seem deeper, more absolute. His silver eyes tracked every movement Vlad made, ready to intervene if something went wrong. He had brought his two harpies—their black, feathery wings spread out behind them, shimmering in the setting sun like oil-slicked ravens’ wings. Death reflected in their black eyes, ancient and hungry. Like Keir, they followed Vlad’s movements, their lower lips pulled back, revealing sharp fangs that would make any vampire envious.

My own fangs ached at the sight of them—these weren’t the beautiful sirens from Greek mythology. These were Unseelie harpies, bred for war and death, their very presence making the air thick with the promise of violence. Their talons clicked against the church floor as they shifted positions, each movement precise and predatory. Even as a vampire, my instincts screamed to keep my distance. I’d seen what those talons and fangs could do in our last battle, how they’d torn through demon flesh like it was paper.

Dimitri examined his sword, turning the blade under the flickering candlelight with exaggerated flourish. His lips twistedinto a smirk as he glanced at Keir, eyebrow cocked in mock concern. “You’re sure these pixie sticks are going to take down the demons in hell?”

Keir’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his pale skin as he exhaled slowly through his nose. His practiced patience was wearing thin. Dimitri had a knack for getting under people’s skin. Keir’s harpies responded to their master’s irritation, their massive wings rustling like dead leaves as they pulled back their lips, releasing low, guttural growls that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“You saw them take down demons in the graveyard, didn’t you?” Keir leaned forward, his posture perfectly controlled even as his fingers tightened imperceptibly around his staff.

Dimitri’s smirk never wavered, but his eyes hardened as he ran a thumb along his blade’s edge. “Those were possessed vampires and the bastards had hellish blades. One of them gutted me. There are going to be hordes of demons, waiting to rip out our insides.”

His cavalier attitude grated against me like cheap jazz on Bourbon Street. I’d seen too many overconfident vampires meet their end to find any amusement in this situation. My blood now coursed through his veins—a bond I didn’t grant lightly. “But you have my blood now.”

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, something darker flickering in his eyes. “Last time they got to you, you nearly traded your heartbeat for a toe tag. Let’s not test our luck twice.”

Enzo sheathed his sword and stepped into Dimitri’s space, voice dropping low. “You don’t have to go, Dimitri.”

Dimitri snorted. “And what, miss out on all the fun? Besides, your protégé can’t come with us or he’ll burn up like a matchstick.”

“According to Angelo, he’d be a liability in this fight.” Enzo tensed and cast me a weary look. I had refused to allow a newly made vampire to go. He’d be mad with hunger and wouldn’t be able to withstand the heat.

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