Page 20

Chapter

Twenty

S erenity

“Ah, the prince. He was such an easy pawn to manipulate.” Balthazar’s fingers twisted deeper into Rocco’s dark hair, wrenching his head back until the tendons strained in his neck. The prince’s eyes met mine, terror and shame warring in their crimson depths.

“Why do you say that?” The words scraped past my dry throat.

Balthazar’s laugh echoed off the obsidian walls, plucking my nerves like a guitar string. The sound bounced through the cavernous chamber, each echo carrying an undertone of malice that made the air feel thick and oppressive. Crimson light from eternal flames cast dancing shadows across the polished stone floors, and somewhere in the distance, the screams of the damned provided a haunting backdrop to his amusement.

“Because his jealousy and grief over losing Rose Allen to Valentin…or, correction, Rose Dragan nearly drove him crazy. He couldn’t see the obvious that was right in front of him.”

“Meaning what?” My fingers curled into fists at my sides, Nephilim power thrumming beneath my skin.

“She was never his mate.” He released Rocco with a contemptuous shove and glided toward me. His touch was ice cold as his fingers traced my neck, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Just like you’re not Angelo’s.”

I jerked away from his touch, the sour taste of fear coating my tongue. “That’s not true and you know it.”

His grip locked around my wrist with preternatural strength, demonic energy pulsing where our skin met. “Oh, I’m certain. Angelo only used you to heal the Aeternum Stone.”

The words attempted to rip apart my faith, but I brushed them off like cobwebs. That was old news. Balthazar was wrong—I trusted Angelo with every fiber of my being, trusted in the unbreakable bond that pulsed between us like a second heartbeat. The demon’s problem was fundamental: he couldn’t comprehend love, couldn’t understand compassion. His world was painted in shades of control and evil, power and manipulation. And now he wanted to drag me down into that darkness with him.

But I trusted in mine and Angelo’s love. I had to believe he was alive. He had to be. He just had to be. If he had escaped the execution, he would be unraveling Balthazar’s plan like an onion, peeling back the layers one by one until the demon’s schemes would crumble to ash.

“Now, I want you to try and absorb the prince’s power.”

I shook my head, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wasn’t like Angelo. Killing wasn’t in my makeup. Healing was. Tears pushed against the back of my eyes. Forgive me, Joy. “No. I won’t do this.”

Balthazar slid open a drawer, the scrape of wood against wood unnaturally loud in the tense silence. He withdrew a blade that seemed to drink in the hellfire’s light. Its ancient writing pulsed with an unholy glow, and the demon’s head carved into the handle seemed to sneer at me with ruby eyes.

“This is a hellish blade.” He held it underneath Rocco’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood that looked black in the crimson light. “Power enough to kill a vampire.”

Rocco went absolutely still, his eyes falling shut as if he’d already accepted his fate. He didn’t seem to breathe—a prince reduced to a sacrifice on the altar of Balthazar’s cruel games.

“So you want to be responsible for his death?”

I glared at Balthazar, hate burning in my chest. “If I take his powers, then he’ll be dead anyway.”

“I’m not asking you to kill him—only to take his powers.” His voice dripped with false benevolence.

“But what if I draw on too much and I kill him?” I pressed my palm against my throat, feeling the last word catch there.

Balthazar’s smile spread like poison across his face as he pressed the blade deeper into Rocco’s neck, drawing more blood. “That’s why it’s a practice run.”

“Balthazar, please don’t make me do this.” The words came out as a whisper, a prayer to whatever mercy might still exist in hell.

“Do it now or he dies. Stretch out your palm and aim it at the prince. Your magic should do the rest.”

Rocco shook his head frantically, but the blade at his throat left me no choice. I knew Balthazar wouldn’t hesitate to kill him—the demon’s eyes held that familiar hunger for death. Tears slipped down my cheeks, each one burning hot in hell’s oppressive air. I stretched out my trembling hand and drew on my power, feeling it surge through my veins like liquid fire. I didn’t know what I was doing, fumbling blind in the dark.

Something sparked between Rocco and me, a tendril of energy that tasted like copper and overly sweet honey, but then pain slammed into me like a sledgehammer. I cried out, doubling over, clutching my gut as my power recoiled.

“I see we are going to do it the hard way.” Balthazar’s fingers twitched at his sides as he brushed past me, like a predator restraining itself before the pounce. “Wait here, Nephilim.”

He opened the door, and a wave of hell’s true heat surged inside, turning the chamber into an inferno. Sweat instantly broke out across my skin, rolling down my temples and back. He stepped outside, the door closing behind him with an ominous finality that made my stomach turn.

I immediately rushed over to Rocco, my fingers fumbling with his gag until I yanked it free. “You have to get out of here.”

“And go where?” Bitterness laced his words like poison. “I can’t open the gates of hell, but maybe I deserve to be here after what I did to my mother.” His voice cracked, guilt gushing through like blood. “I screamed for the demon possessing me to stop—God, I wanted to stop so badly—but I couldn’t control my own body. All I could do was watch…” He hung his head, the proud vampire prince reduced to raw anguish.

“That wasn’t your fault.” I pulled desperately at the chains binding his wrists, the metal burning cold against my skin. “That was Balthazar’s.” The chains wouldn’t budge, each link inscribed with hellish runes that seemed to mock my efforts.

The door opened with an unholy groan. Balthazar stepped inside, hellfire dancing in his outstretched palm, casting twisted shadows across his face. “Did I hear someone call my name?” He broke out into a slow smile that held no warmth, only ancient malice.

I gasped, the scorching heat making my skin prickle. “Is that...?”

“Hellfire.” His smile was razor-sharp as he withdrew a crystal wine glass from the china cabinet. The flame writhed like a living thing before sliding into the glass, which remained eerily intact despite the infernal heat. My stomach turned as Balthazar lifted his wrist to his mouth, fangs gleaming in the crimson light. He tore into his flesh with savage precision, dark blood dripping into the glass. The hellfire seemed to pulse eagerly as it merged with his blood, creating a swirling vortex of darkness and flame.

“Now, Nephilim,” he purred, extending the glass toward me, “you’re going to drink this.”

My stomach recoiled at the thought. “No, I’m not.” I yanked frantically at Rocco’s chains, the metal biting into my palms.

“Those chains will only loosen when I touch them.” Balthazar traced a finger along the air, mimicking the patterns of the chains with undisguised pleasure. “They’re imprinted with my magic. No one else can release them—not even you, Nephilim.”

He moved with demon-speed, nothing more than a blur of shadow before the blade appeared in his hand. “I’ll kill the prince now if you don’t do as I say.”

“Damn you!”

“I’ve always been damned,” he growled, eyes flashing with hellfire. “Now drink.”

Julienne’s warning echoed in my mind—my soul would turn dark. But could I let the prince die? The choice strangled me like a noose.

I wasn’t about death. I was about life. I was a healer just like my father. With trembling hands, I took the foul glass and raised it to my lips. I expected liquid fire, expected agony, but instead, the mixture slid down my throat with a spicy-sweet burn. There was something else lurking beneath the surface—something too tangy, too sour, that made my Nephilim powers twist inside me.

“Now, Nephilim, hold out your hand and repeat after me?—

Sanguinem regis aufero,

Potentiam vampiri extraho,

Per tenebras inferni,

Virtutem eius consumo,

I held my head up high, defiance thumping in my chest. “I won’t say it until you tell me what it means.”

“Fine.” He put his hand on Rocco’s shoulder until the prince’s bones creaked beneath his grip. “It means?—

I take the king’s blood,

I extract the vampire’s power,

Through hell’s darkness,

I consume his strength,

His jaw tightened with barely contained brutality. “Now say it or I’ll twist his pretty little head off.”

I raised my trembling hand, Angelo’s face flashing through my mind. I drew on the memory of his strength, his unwavering faith in me. Even in hell, our bond pulsed like a lifeline. I’m sorry, I thought as bile rose in my throat and I forced out the words. Each syllable felt like a betrayal, and I hated myself, hated that I wasn’t strong enough to defeat Balthazar.

Rocco’s scream pierced the air as his head snapped back. Color drained from his face like water down a drain, his skin turning ashen gray, cheeks hollowing out as his very essence was stripped away. And I could feel it—feel his power rushing into me like scorching hellfire through my veins. My heart thundered against my ribs, heat blooming across my face as his strength became mine. It felt intoxicating and horrifying all at once, and I clung to thoughts of Angelo to keep from losing myself in the dark rush of power.

The stolen power burned through me like poison, making my head spin. I fell to my knees, my hand dropping like lead. “I can’t take it… I can’t take it.”

Balthazar’s fingers stroked my hair with false tenderness. “You’ve done well. Don’t worry, the prince is still alive.”

“I’m sorry, Angelo. I didn’t mean…” The words escaped in a broken whisper, guilt crushing my chest.

Balthazar caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Ah, your precious vampire again. He’s alive, my sweet girl, but he’s walking into a trap.”

The world stopped.

Alive.

The word crashed through me like lightning, electric and searing. My lungs seized, breath catching on a sob I refused to let escape. Angelo was alive. The ground beneath me seemed to tilt as months of grief and despair collided with this impossible truth.

“You’re lying,” I whispered, but hope—that treacherous, dangerous thing—was already blooming in my chest, unfurling like a flower toward sunlight after endless winter.

Balthazar’s eyes glittered with amusement as he watched the shock ripple across my face. His thumb traced my jawline, a grotesque parody of tenderness. “Why would I lie about this? The vampire king survived his execution. How delightful that you didn’t know.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “The look on your face right now is... exquisite.”

I jerked away from his touch, my mind racing. Angelo was alive. The mantra repeated, each repetition sending fresh waves of dizzying relief through me. But he was walking into a trap—Balthazar’s trap. The joy crumbled as quickly as it had formed, replaced by cold dread spreading through my veins.

“What trap?” I demanded, strength returning to my voice. If Angelo was alive, I had something to fight for again.

“Angelo plans to go to the Nightshade Crypt tonight to retrieve something that could possibly cure Dracula.” His eyes glittered with malevolent triumph. “I can’t let that happen. All my men have been given hellish swords. One nick could bring your precious vampire down.”

“How do you know this?”

His smile curved with ancient cunning. “I can’t give you all my secrets, can I?”

My fingers curled into fists at my sides as rage and desperation warred within me. I fought to keep my expression neutral, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words cut. I wanted to lunge at him, to tear the information from him by force, but the cold calculation in his eyes told me that’s exactly what he wanted—to see me break, to watch me lose control.

I forced my breathing to steady, drawing on every ounce of restraint I possessed. Angelo was alive. That knowledge was a flame inside me now, burning away the fog of hopelessness that had clouded my mind for so long. If Balthazar thought dangling this information would shatter me, he was wrong.

“Then I’ll find out myself,” I said, meeting his gaze with newfound resolve. “And when I do, when Angelo and I are together again, you’ll regret every moment you’ve kept us apart.”

“Oh, love. I would do anything to possess you, and my first step is killing your precious vampire king.”

“No, no, no. Please don’t kill him. Please.” The words spilled out in desperate sobs as I lurched forward, my hands reaching for him despite my revulsion. The thought of a hellish blade piercing Angelo’s heart shattered something inside me. “I’ll do anything—anything you want. Just please, don’t hurt him.”

His fingers traced my tear-stained cheek with mock tenderness, his touch burning cold against my skin. “Such devotion. It will make breaking you all the sweeter.”

I was a novice against an ancient master of manipulation. It was like playing hide and seek with the lights off—except the monster wasn’t hiding, he was right here, watching me with those hellfire eyes. It wasn’t just Rocco’s power that was making me sick; it was the burden of my betrayal to Angelo. The stolen power writhed inside me like a living thing, and I could feel it trying to take root. Was my soul growing dark, tainted by what I’d done? Would Angelo even recognize me when he saw me, or would he see only shadows where his light once lived?

Angelo, hurry.