Page 70 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

My fangs ached to tear into his throat as I silently cursed. Where the hell was Vlad and the damn signal?

I didn’t take my eyes off Petar, my pulse thundering with anticipation. “I’ll give you Serenity and Gianna, Balthazar, if you let Petar go and fight me one on one.”

Balthazar cocked an eyebrow, hunger flashing in his ancient eyes. “Really? Interesting proposition.”

Petar’s face drained of all color as he looked at Balthazar, sweat beading on his forehead.

A merciless grin spread across Balthazar’s face. “You have my blood, Petar. You should be able to beat him.” His voice dropped to a mocking purr. “Fight him.”

Petar withdrew a hellish sword that had been hidden beneath his jacket. The blade’s cursed runes pulsed with an unholy red glow that made my old scars burn in recognition. I wasn’t looking forward to having that slash my flesh again, but power surged through my veins now. Dracula’s ancient strength mingled with Serenity’s celestial blood. Every cell in my body hummed with deadly potential. I was stronger, faster, deadlier.

The tension in the room coiled like a spring ready to snap, the air thick with the stench of fear and blood. My fangs lengthened at the metallic scent, anticipation singing through my nerves. Another weapon I could use.

The cries outside grew louder, piercing through the walls like banshee wails, and my stomach twisted as thoughts of Serenity consumed me. My fangs throbbed at the memory of her scent, my grip tightening on the sword’s hilt until the leather creaked. She’d better have used her damn wings and flown away. Enzo swore he’d protect her, his oath still ringing in my ears. If not... my knuckles whitened around the sword as rage burned through my veins. Then he’d be the one building Balthazar’s damn house in hell.

Petar lashed the whip at me, but I moved to the side.

“Figures you would need weapons to defeat me.”

A feral snarl tore from Petar’s lips, the sound reverberating off the walls as he lashed the whip through the air with desperate fury. The leather cracked again and again, but my enhanced reflexes made his movements seem almost sluggish. I lunged forward, my sword singing through the air as I brought it down in a vicious arc. He tried to twist away, but too slowly; the bladebit deep into his arm holding the whip. Blood gushed from the wound, its rich scent filling the air as the whip clattered to the floor from his useless fingers.

“Petar, you fool,” Balthazar snarled as walked around us. “Kill him. Now.”

Petar jammed the sword toward my heart, its cursed blade hungry for blood. One nick from that hellish weapon would give him the advantage he needed. Drawing on every ounce of power I possessed, every battle I’d survived through countless mortal lifetimes, I twisted away with preternatural speed. Our swords collided with a deafening clash, demonic sparks spraying into the air between us. I hissed, my fangs extending as bloodlust and rage coursed through me. In a flash of movement, he pulled a dagger from his jacket. The blade whistled past my throat as I jerked back, feeling its deadly edge whisper against my skin.

I was done playing games. Weeks of rage and hatred fueled my muscles as I channeled every drop of power through my body. Using vampire speed that made the world blur around me, I raised my sword in a lethal arc. The blade sang through the air as I spun, my enhanced strength driving the edge deep into Petar’s neck. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as he staggered, his eyes wide with shock and terror.

He dropped to his knees, desperately clutching his throat, but I raised my blade again, feeling Dracula’s ancient power surge through my arms as I brought it down with crushing force. The sword cleaved through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch.

Petar’s head rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of dark blood before coming to rest at Balthazar’s feet. The wet thud of it stopping against his boot echoed in the sudden silence.

A cold satisfaction settled in my chest as I watched my enemy’s final moments. The man who had tortured my sister, who had dared to challenge my family, who had stripped myback raw with that enchanted whip. now reduced to nothing more than a severed head at Balthazar’s feet. Justice served by my own hand, as it should be.

“He really was a coward.” Balthazar kicked Petar’s head and smashed into a wall. He looked up at me, his ancient eyes gleaming with calculated malice. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that didn’t reach those depthless orbs, which remained cold and assessing like a predator sizing up potential prey. “He’ll pay for his failure.” He looked up at me. “I allowed you to fight him. You never said he had to win.”

I panted, my muscles trembling from the fight. Crap. Where was...

Thunder exploded overhead like a thousand war drums, lightning shattering the night sky in blinding streaks of white. The very foundations of the mansion shuddered. A predatory smile spread across my blood-flecked face.

“No, I didn’t. That was just a diversion.” My hand slipped into my pocket, withdrawing the small ornate mirror Vlad had given me. Power thrummed through its ancient silver frame. “Someone wants to meet you.”

The confident sneer on Balthazar’s face cracked as realization dawned. “These walls are warded.”

“But you invited me in, Balthazar.” My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “So you invited him as well.”

“No, it’s not possible. I specifically warded for this. He can’t come in. Michael can’t come in.”

I held up the mirror and lightning shattered the night, white-hot and blinding. The walls shook violently, plaster raining down as broken pews crumbled, wood splintering like gunshots in the chaos.

Lightning exploded again, and the screams outside rose to a fever pitch—anguished cries of demons caught in holy fire.

A blond-haired man materialized in the middle of the room. I had expected to meet the Archangel Michael, but the figure before me stole my breath. His golden hair flared over his shoulders like a lion’s mane, a pure white aura pulsing around him like a second heartbeat. But it was his wings that made my dead heart clench; massive, pristine, and achingly familiar. His hair and wings were exactly the same as Serenity’s.

Oh, shit. This wasn’t Michael. This was Serenity’s father—Raphael.

“Hello, Balthazar. I hear you’ve been wanting to meet me.” Those piercing blue eyes—Serenity’s eyes—landed next to me, and for the first time in centuries, I felt like a fledgling vampire again. I stood there awkwardly, Petar’s blood drying on my skin and clothes. This was definitely not how I had planned to meet Serenity’s father.

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