Page 48 of Oath of Blood and Joy

Something electric shot through me, a memory clicking into place. I broke out in a triumphant smile, the first genuine one since Joy was taken from me. “Yes, I have.” The name unlocked a cascade of images—moonlight on dark water, the distant echo of cannon fire, the smell of gunpowder that had lingered for decades. “The lake was near a battle fought in the War of 1812. Rumor has it that you can hear the whispers of those who died during the battle.”

Steve cocked his eyebrow, his expression shifting from skepticism to hope. “Do you know where it is?”

I could almost feel Joy in my arms—the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the way she leaned into me that night on the Sangue Reale. My heart, dormant for centuries, seemed to lurch in my chest. “We need to get back to Crescent Manor to tell Angelo.” I was already moving toward the door, not checking if Steve followed. Every second felt too precious to waste.

Behind me, I heard Steve throw cash on the bar, the bills fluttering in my wake. I longed for the smell of jasmine and night-blooming cereus that perfumed New Orleans after dark. Somewhere, beyond the city lights, past the swamps and shadows, Joy was waiting. And this time, I knew how to find her.

I pushed through the club’s exit, urgency driving every step. The night air hit my face—a stark contrast to the cloying perfume and stale whiskey inside. My shoes crunched on broken glass in the parking lot, and I nearly collided with a familiarfigure. Dimitri materialized from the darkness, his tall form peeling away from the shadows where he’d been watching the establishment. His pupils, nearly black in the dim streetlight, were alert and tense.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, my pulse quickening with irritation. Something about Dimitri’s rigid posture sent warning signals through my body. “I thought you were following Flanagan.”

“Miss me already?” Dimitri smirked, eyebrow arching with mock innocence. He stepped closer, the scent of expensive bourbon and cedar emanating from his coat. “And yes, I was following our friend Flanagan.” He gestured toward the neon-bathed building with dramatic flair. “Surprise ending—plot twist—he led me right back to you. Isn’t that thoughtful of him?” His eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light. “He went inside about ten minutes ago. Looked like a man with a mission, if you know what I mean.”

I swore under my breath, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. My gaze darted back to the entrance where a bulky bouncer checked IDs under flickering lights. “He must be inside meeting with Duncan.” The pieces clicked together in my mind, a conspiracy taking shape.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as they swept the street behind us. The parking lot shadows stretched between us like living things, reminding me of Joy’s abilities—of Joy herself, trapped and waiting. “What should we do?”

My enforcer instincts surged through me like electricity, demanding action, demanding justice. The old, familiar heat of the hunt warmed my veins. Every fiber of my being wanted to storm back inside, grab Flanagan by his expensive collar, and extract answers. I could feel my face hardening, centuries of command settling into my features.

But then Joy’s face flashed in my mind—her defiant eyes, her vulnerable smile—and the choice became clear. My heart clenched painfully in my chest, an organ I’d thought long dormant now aching with need.

“We need to get to Joy.” My voice came out rougher than intended, raw with emotion I rarely displayed.

Dimitri tilted his head, his lips curving into that infuriating knowing smile he’d perfected over centuries. “Well, well... look who’s wearing his heart on his sleeve tonight.” He twirled an invisible glass in his fingers, a habit from his drinking days. “You know where she is.” His tone shifted from mocking to serious in an instant, dark eyes studying my face. “About time.”

“She’s at Fort Maurepas.” The name fell from my lips like a promise. I squared my shoulders, certainty strengthening my spine. “We need to get back to Crescent Manor now.”

The night seemed to hold its breath around us. In the distance, jazz music spilled from a bar down the street, the mournful saxophone a fitting soundtrack to my resolve. Nothing else mattered now—not Flanagan, not Duncan, not centuries of duty.

Only her.

The three of us shifted into bats and flew out of the shadows toward Crescent Manor. Adrenaline soared through me as I flew toward home, my blood thumping through me. I descended on the back steps and ran into the house.

“Angelo.” I burst into the manor. My hands trembled slightly as I strode across the intricate mosaic floor, each footstep sounding like a heartbeat in the cavernous space. The scent of old books and beeswax hung in the air, the familiar smell of home that would normally calm me—but not tonight.

Angelo came out of the living room, crystal tumbler in hand, amber liquid catching the warm glow from the antique sconces. He took one look at me—at the wild energy I knew was radiatingfrom my body—and froze mid-step. The ice in his glass clinked softly as his fingers tightened around it. “You found her?”

Serenity came alongside him, her silk dress whispering against the hardwood as she moved. Hope and joy blossomed across her face, transforming her features and bringing a flush to her pale cheeks. Her blue eyes—eyes that had witnessed terrible things in her life–suddenly shone with hope. She reached for Angelo’s arm, her slender fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve.

“I know where she is.” The words tumbled from my lips, relief and urgency battling within me. I raked a hand through my disheveled hair, aware of the tension coiled in every muscle of my body. “She’s been held at Fort Maurepas.”

Angelo’s expression darkened, shadows gathering in the lines of his ancient face. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he frowned, centuries of suspicion evident in his narrowed eyes. “Why there?” He set his glass down on a nearby table with deliberate care. “What’s Maximo up to?”

“I don’t know.” I swallowed hard, tasting anxiety on my tongue. My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides, impatience burning through my veins like fire.

Dimitri came up behind me, his stride radiating confidence. He leaned against the doorframe with calculated nonchalance, twirling a crystal paperweight he’d picked up from somewhere. “I followed Flanagan to Sweet Babes,” he drawled, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Looked surprisingly at home there, by the way.” He set the paperweight down with exaggerated care. “There could be a connection.” His eyes flicked up, gleaming with dark amusement. “Or maybe he just has terrible taste in entertainment. Either way—fun night for me.”

Angelo’s posture shifted, the strategist in him awakening. He began pacing, each step measured and purposeful across the Persian rug. “We need to?—”

“No, Angelo,” Serenity cut him off. The room stilled at her interruption, all eyes turning to her slender form. Her delicate features had hardened into a determination I rarely saw, the maternal instinct flaring in her eyes. “We need to get Joy back first. We can worry about Maximo later.” Her hand reached for mine, her cool fingers offering silent support.

I should have pulled away as Angelo noted her clasping my hand, but she needed my support. He had killed men for less. But I owed her this much.

“Serenity, he could—” Angelo began again, turning to his wife with surprise etched across his features, unused to her challenging him so directly.

“Now, Angelo.” Serenity stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her normally gentle demeanor replaced by fierce resolve. The diamond pendant at her throat caught the light as she lifted her chin. “We have no idea what he’s doing to her this time, but we do know he’s after her for her power. This can’t wait.” Her voice trembled slightly, revealing the worry she’d been carefully containing.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked away precious seconds. Outside, through the leaded glass windows, New Orleans continued its nighttime revelry, oblivious to our private war. And somewhere beyond the city lights, near dark waters that whispered with forgotten voices, Joy was waiting.

---