Page 75 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“No,” Raphael replied with unexpected firmness, “they’re getting married and I will marry them.” A hint of defiance gleamed in his eyes—the same look I sometimes saw in my own reflection. “But you’re right, we need to get out of this accursed church. It’s making my skin crawl.” He ran his fingers along his arm as if brushing away cobwebs.

“Married?” The word escaped my lips in a breathless whisper as I looked up at Angelo. His face remained unreadable, that familiar mask of control firmly in place.

Angelo’s eyes locked with mine, dark and possessive. His hand tightened at my waist, pulling me closer until I could feel the solid strength of him against me. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and absolute. “It’s time you bore my name.”

The declaration wasn’t a question or even a proposal—it was a statement of fact, as inevitable as gravity. And despite its commanding nature, I felt something within me release andsettle. This was Angelo—possessive, protective, and completely mine.

“I’ll wear it gladly,” I whispered.

His eyes flashed with fierce satisfaction. He escorted me out of the church, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist, keeping me close as if he still feared I might be taken from him. The others followed behind us, a strange procession of vampires, angels, and whatever I now was—something in between both worlds.

Balthazar sat on the ground where he’d fallen, defeated but defiant. He glared at me with pure, undiluted hatred, his eyes promising vengeance beyond death itself. Angelo stepped in front of me instantly, my shield and protector even now.

I’d expected to see blood and gore littering the bayou—evidence of the brutal battle that had raged—but nothing was amiss. The ground was untouched, as if any horror had been swept away by an invisible hand. Michael’s work.

The crickets and frogs had begun their nightly chorus again, singing a song of gratitude that seemed to pulse with the very heartbeat of the swamp. The bayou was alive again, breathing and vibrating with renewed energy. Their celestial champion had chased away the evil that had poisoned these ancient waters.

But then... a hot wind swept through the trees, bending cypress branches and stirring Spanish moss like ghostly fingers. The natural sounds of the bayou fell silent, as if every creature held its breath. The air became heavy, charged with power ancient and terrible.

Another man stood there with long red hair that moved like flames in the unnatural breeze. His sword glowed with dark fire, and his wings—massive and magnificent—were black as the space between stars. He was shirtless like Balthazar, his torso marked with symbols older than human language. His greeneyes held the battles of eternity—beautiful, knowing, and utterly dangerous.

He looked at Michael, a dangerous smile blooming across his face that could seduce or destroy worlds. “You rang, brother?”

The fallen archangel had arrived, and the air itself seemed to tremble at his presence.

Michael snapped his fingers with a crack louder than a gun shot. “Take Balthazar out of here. He’s made a mess that I had to clean up.”

Lucifer looked down at Balthazar with disgust, his perfect features hardening with contempt. “He will be punished. I grew weary of his failures.”

“His failures are my victories,” Michael said, celestial satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“We shall see brother, we shall see.” Lucifer tilted his head and then unleashed his sword. A stream of darkness poured out of the tip of the sword, swirling around Lucifer and Balthazar. The smoke disappeared, leaving behind nothing but the scent of brimstone and regret.

I stood frozen, my emotions colliding like warring tides. Balthazar—gone. The demon who had terrorized me yet also shielded me from dangers I hadn’t even known existed. My breath caught as memories flashed unbidden—his rage that had made me tremble, his unexpected moments of protection that had kept me alive. I should have felt relief, triumph even, but instead a hollow ache spread beneath my ribs.

It wasn’t grief exactly, but something more complicated—the disorienting sensation of losing someone who had been both nightmare and guardian. My fingers trembled as I reached for the empty space where he had stood moments before, the lingering scent of brimstone stinging my eyes. Or perhaps it was tears. I couldn’t be sure anymore.

The silence that followed was deafening; a vacuum where cosmic powers had just clashed.

“The evil is gone,” Michael declared, his words resonating with finality.

And with that pronouncement, the bayou came alive again—crickets chirping, frogs croaking, life resuming its ancient rhythms as if awakening from a nightmare.

I looked up at Angelo. “Where’s Vlad?”

“Guarding Red Rose Academy,” Michael answered before Angelo could speak. “Petar had sent his men to attack the academy. It seems he wanted to punish everyone.”

Thunder rumbled overhead like a distant warning, the sky darkening despite the battle being won.

“Time for me to return home. I’ve spent too much time cleaning up vampire messes.” Michael’s voice rang with both weariness and disdain. His eyes swept over our unusual group one last time, lingering with disapproval on Angelo and the others before softening slightly when they reached me. For just a moment, I glimpsed something like reluctant acceptance in his gaze.

Then he vanished just like Lucifer and Balthazar had before him, but where they had left behind the acrid scent of brimstone, Michael’s departure filled the air with the sweet fragrance of roses; a celestial signature that lingered in the humid bayou air long after he was gone.

“I must leave also, daughter,” Raphael said. “But I will see you tomorrow night at your wedding.” His gaze fell on Angelo as if daring him to defy him.

For a split second, I wanted to argue, to demand time to plan the wedding I’d once dreamed about as a little girl. But those dreams belonged to a different version of me—one who hadn’t faced death, confronted demons, or discovered her celestial heritage. After everything we’d survived, the flowersand decorations and perfect dress seemed like trivial concerns from another lifetime. Everyone who truly mattered would be there, and all I wanted now was to be one with Angelo—to claim the future we’d fought so hard to have. Some things were worth waiting for, but this wasn’t one of them.

But Angelo remained silent, his eyes fixed on the spot where Michael had been.

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