Page 23 of Oath of Blood and Joy

I scrubbed my face with trembling hands, the simple movement requiring more effort than it should. “There’s something else.” It was becoming easier to talk except I soundedlike I had laryngitis, a gravelly whisper that scraped against my throat.

The room grew quiet as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next bomb to go off.

“Joy has a power.”

I coughed, a painful spasm that shook my entire body, unable to get any more words out. My chest heaved with the effort, each cough feeling like shards of glass tearing through my throat.

Angelo ripped his wrist open with his fangs, his movements swift and decisive, dark blood welling instantly from the wound. His eyes blazed with urgency as he stuck it under my mouth, the scent of ancient power filling my nostrils. “Drink. I want to know what power.”

I greedily sucked in his blood, my fangs extending instinctively at the taste of my maker’s essence. The rich, metallic liquid burned a path of healing fire through my system, each swallow pushing back the poison that had nearly claimed me. Strength returned to my limbs, my thoughts clearing like fog burning away in morning sun.

I pulled away as blood slipped down the edge of my mouth, running hot against my cold skin. “Shadows,” I gasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Joy can control shadows. Maximo must know about her power. That’s why he wants her.”

Chapter Sixteen

Joy

Maximo hadn’t taken me back to his home, back to my room. I pictured Anton’s book sitting on Maximo’s desk where Marsha had slammed it down after taking it from me. My fingers itched with the need to touch those ancient pages again. The book would have given me more information about my power, about how to control the shadows that seemed to respond to my emotions.

Instead, he’d taken me to a mansion in the bayou, a place I’d never been before. The sprawling Victorian structure loomed with its imposing facade. It was surrounded by oak trees draped with Spanish moss that had swayed gently in the humid air.

I was stuck in an ornate bedroom, tied to a wooden chair. My friend Zoe had already been strapped to the bed when I was dragged into the room. Her eyes were wide with fear, and ice-cold dread pooled in my stomach. I knew exactly why Marsha had brought her here—Zoe was leverage, a way to ensure my cooperation. The bruises from Marsha’s previous “lessons” werebarely faded on Zoe’s arms, a visual reminder of what would happen if I refused to comply.

Marsha had been furious with me too, her eyes burning with a hatred that sent chills down my spine as she struck me repeatedly across my face. Each blow had stung worse than the last, but I’d refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. She acted as if I was the one who had engineered my escape, as if I had somehow betrayed her trust. It’s not like I contacted Enzo—he had found me on his own, had seen something in me worth saving.

Maximo had stood there and watched Marsha beat me. He actually had a bored expression on his face. Tears had flowed down Zoe’s face as she watched helplessly from the bed. She was still wearing the same white ceremonial gown, marking her as a virgin. She thrashed her head back and forth, her red hair whipping across her pale face as she yanked desperately on her restraints.

I took a deep breath as I looked over at the window, trying not to concentrate on the throbbing pain. The heavy red velvet curtains were shut tight, only allowing a thin sliver of golden afternoon light to slice through the slit like a blade. Dust motes danced in that solitary beam, swirling with each anxious breath I took.

There was a hint of stale perfume in the room that clung to everything—the silk bedspread, the tasseled lampshades, the ornately carved furniture—a sickly sweet floral scent that barely masked darker odors beneath. It all hinted of women being forced to serve clients in here, of fear and desperation soaked into the very walls. At the thought, bile rose in my throat as I swallowed hard against the wave of nausea. The gilded opulence of the room couldn’t disguise its true purpose—a beautiful cage for beautiful birds they intended to sell.

My hands were securely tied behind my back, the ropes digging into my skin with every slight movement. The metallic taste of blood lingered on my tongue. I could feel my cheek swelling already, tightening the skin across my face.

Maximo stepped closer, his towering frame blocking what little light filtered through the curtained windows. He wrapped his hand in my hair, his fingers ice cold against my scalp, and yanked my head back hard.

I winced as I stared into his merciless eyes. “Where are we?”

“Someplace where your hero won’t find you. You will learn that you belong to me,” he whispered, his breath chilling my ear, “and you will do as I say.”

His words sent ice through my veins, and for a moment, real fear clouded my thoughts. Enzo wouldn’t know where to look for me. My breath caught in my throat as Maximo’s presence loomed over me, his confidence suffocating. But then I thought of the light I’d always carried inside, the same light that had somehow connected to shadows, and I found my center again.

I swallowed hard, tasting blood, and chose my words carefully. Even now, I searched for some way to catch him off guard, some way to get more information from him.

“There’s goodness in you too, Maximo,” I whispered through swollen lips, wincing as even those few words sent pain shooting across my bruised face. Despite the effort it took to speak, I met his gaze with a fierce determination. If he believed me, maybe he and Marsha wouldn’t hurt Zoe. “Everyone has light inside them, even when they can’t see it themselves.”

Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, perhaps even a moment of recognition—before his mask of cruelty returned. But I’d seen it, that tiny spark, and it gave me hope.

Marsha appeared behind him, her crimson lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. Splashes of my blood were onher black dress and on her palms. She whispered something into his ear that I couldn’t hear.

Maximo nodded as if agreeing with her, his gaze never faltering.

Then she pulled away and patted his arm. “Come, Maximo.” Her hips swayed as she headed toward the door as if trying to entice him. “We have much to do to prepare for another auction since the last one was so rudely disrupted. The buyers are impatient for our girls, and we only have two days to prepare for the next one.”

Two days? I had to find a way to save these girls.

Without saying another word, Maximo dropped his hand from my hair and followed Marsha out. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, and I heard the distinct click of a key turning in the lock.

Tears glistened in Zoe’s eyes and she muffled something underneath her gag, but I couldn’t understand her.

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