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Chapter Three

Joy

Shadows danced around Maximo’s study. My breath came in ragged gasps as the pain slowly fell away. I trembled uncontrollably as the shadows faded and I slumped into the chair exhausted, still not believing what happened.

Marsha lifted a lock of my hair and rubbed it between her fingers. “You are powerful.”

Beads of sweat trickled down my temples. “What just happened?”

“Your power has awakened.”

I jerked my head, freeing my hair from her wretched fingers. My heart still pounding against my ribs, I stared at my palms as if I had never seen them before. I was human. She must have done something to me. I wasn’t a vampire or a witch. “That’s not possible.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth. The shadows had responded to me as if they were extensions of my own being.

Swallowing hard, I glanced nervously around the now-ordinary study, refusing to look at Marsha. The leatherbound books on the shelves seemed to watch me accusingly, as if they’d witnessed something forbidden.

The door opened with a soft click and Maximo entered, his confident stride faltering slightly as his gaze focused on Marsha. “So you did it?”

Her lips twisted into a satisfied smile. “Just as you paid me, Barone. She’s an Unseelie.”

My heart twisted with dread. I was nothing but merchandise, just like the girls he planned to sell at Simon’s auction.

I gripped the edge of the chair and gritted my teeth. “She’s lying. She cast a spell on me. I keep telling you, Maximo, I don’t have any powers. My father was a detective and my mom a housewife.”

Maximo clicked his tongue, the sound sharp as a blade in the tense silence.

His blue eyes met mine without mercy. “I’m afraid, dear, you are wrong. Louis DuPont was your stepfather—not your father.”

The blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. This was his cruelest trick yet. My world splintered around me. How could he say such a thing? My lips parted, but no sound emerged, the shock stealing my voice.

It was as if all my positivity jumped out the window. Anger surged through me at his lies.

“You’re both lying. I’m human. Marsha used a spell?—”

Maximo cupped my face with bruising force, his fingers pressing into the hollow beneath my jawbone, cutting off my voice. “No, she’s not. You’re half human. And half Unseelie apparently.” His eyes almost glittered with greed.

He released me abruptly. My jaw throbbed where his fingers had dug in. I stared up at him and dragged my fingers through my hair. “You’re wrong. I can’t be an Unseelie.”

He shrugged dismissively, his eyes flickering with a hint of impatience. “Obviously you’re not a vampire. You don’t crave blood.” He gestured toward Marsha, his voice softening with something like respect. “You don’t come from a line of witches. You can’t perform magic.”

A shadow of frustration crossed his face as he picked a leatherbound book off his desk, hesitating for just a moment before handing it to me.

His fingertips lingered on the cover, betraying his reluctance to part with it.

“That leaves you either being a shifter or a Fae or an Unseelie. I suggest you read.”

I looked at the leatherbound book—Essence and Origin: The Hidden Lineages.

Strange gold symbols etched into the leather seemed to pulse under my touch, sending a chill up my arm.

My heart raced as I traced them with my finger, feeling a strange connection I couldn’t explain.

I glanced up at him, confusion and suspicion warring inside me.

“I’ve combed this library for weeks, looking for something—anything—to fill my time.” My voice trembled slightly with accusation. “Where did you get this? I don’t remember any books being left out on your desk.”

His gaze dropped for a heartbeat, guilt flashing across his features before his expression became carefully neutral again. “You think I’ll find the answer in this book?” I asked, unable to keep the mixture of hope and fear from my voice.

“It tells of all the supernatural entities and their powers,” he said quietly, his tone grave but tinged with compassion I hadn’t heard from him before. “Anton Lange, the headmaster of Legacy Academy, wrote it. He’s a powerful vampire and has been alive over four hundred years.”

He stepped closer, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Tell me what you think after you’ve read it,” he whispered, his eyes glittering with malice.

My throat tightened painfully, a desperate hope clawing at my chest that he and Marsha were wrong.

Each heartbeat was a silent plea against their theory.

I refused—no, I couldn’t believe that Louis DuPont wasn’t my father.

The very thought sent an icy shiver through my veins that left me feeling hollow.

He had been my light after my mother died—the only warmth in a world gone cold and gray.

The memory of his gentle smile surfaced, bringing with it a sting of tears I quickly blinked away.

I could always go to him, no matter how dark things got.

He’d even risked everything to try to protect Serenity from her perverted stepfather, his hands trembling with righteous fury that night as he’d confronted the man.

Marsha suddenly locked her gaze with Maximo, her eyes hardening with urgency. “We need to talk about the auction tonight, Maximo.” Her scowl carried a weight that seemed to drop the temperature in the room by several degrees.

I physically cringed at her words, my shoulders hunching as though Marsha had struck me herself.

A bucket of guilt—no, an ocean of it—washed over me, drowning my personal concerns in its merciless tide.

My cheeks burned with shame. Here I was, so selfishly consumed with my own identity crisis, while those girls, terrified and alone, remained locked in their rooms, waiting to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms until tiny crescents of pain bloomed there.

My task was to free them, not wallow in worry about myself.

There had to be a way. My jaw clenched with newfound determination even as my heart raced with fear of what failure would mean for those innocent lives.

Maximo snapped his fingers. “Henry, escort Joy back to her room.”

Henry immediately entered the room and opened the door.

I clutched the book against my chest and raised my chin. “I would like to talk with Zoe first.”

He opened his mouth to say something but Marsha cut him off.

“She shouldn’t, Maximo. Not after I drew her power. She needs to rest for tonight.”

Anger crystallized within me like ice forming in deep water—solid, sharp, and clear. But I kept my mouth shut. Marsha had some kind of hold over Maximo and he never went against her. Sometimes I wondered who was really in charge of the Barone family.

He tilted his head. “You’re right, Marsha. Henry, take her to her room.”

Just like that, I was dismissed—a pawn moved off the board, inconsequential.

My chest tightened with a sickening blend of fear and indignation, my breath catching in my throat.

I’d rather have remained to find out what their plans were for the auction, to listen in on their secretive whispers and gather the information I desperately needed to ruin whatever vile scheme they were hatching.

Henry escorted me past Zoe’s door and I thought I heard someone crying inside—soft, muffled sobs that pierced through the heavy wood like daggers into my conscience.

I faltered mid-step, my entire body tensing with the instinct to rush to her.

My heart didn’t just break for her; it shattered into jagged pieces that cut me from within.

The sound of her despair echoed in my ears, drowning out everything else around me.

I had to help her tonight. Not tomorrow, not when it was convenient or safe, but tonight at the auction—before it was too late, before she disappeared forever into some monster’s possession.

I wouldn’t let her be sold to some slimy pervert.

The very thought ignited a protective fury in my blood that burned away any lingering doubts or fears.

My fingers curled tightly around the book, drawing strength from its solid presence. In that moment, I made a silent promise to Zoe and to myself: whatever power this book revealed, whatever risk I had to take, I would use it to save her.

I retreated to my room and trembled slightly as my fingers traced the ancient leather binding. If it documented powers, then I would bet my life the book also named each supernatural’s weakness, especially the limitations of a witch’s magic. A spark of hope kindled in my chest, small but fierce.

Marsha used her magic like a collar around those girls’ necks, both here and at Simon’s Ravenwood Estate.

The memory of their subdued expressions sent a surge of cold rage through my veins.

Maybe—just maybe—I could find a way to usurp her magic.

Not completely, I wasn’t that arrogant, but just enough for the girls to escape.

Just enough to give them the chance that had been stolen from them.

Marsha said I was an Unseelie—not that I believed it—but what if there was some grain of truth buried in her accusation? My breath caught as I considered the possibilities. Maybe there was something in here to help me use the shadows, to turn them against her like a weapon she never saw coming.

Except... I swallowed hard, doubt creeping in like a winter chill.

I didn’t have any idea how to bring forth these supposed shadows, and the weight of time pressed down on me like a physical burden.

I had until tonight to find out—mere hours to unlock powers I wasn’t sure I possessed, to save lives that would be forever lost if I failed.

The book suddenly felt heavier in my hands, as though laden with both promise and impossibility. I clutched it tighter, my fingers pressing into the binding with a desperate determination even as fear gnawed at my insides.