Page 5 of Oath of Blood and Joy

“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 believethat 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.

Chapter Four

Joy

The door shut and the lock clicked, the sound jarring against my usually optimistic nature. I sat on the bed, clutching Anton’s book to my chest like a shield. Air seemed to scrape against my throat as I tried to wrap my mind around what Marsha had done to me.

Her spell had forced me to control the shadows around me—me, who always sought out the light, who decorated my room with yellow curtains and kept fresh flowers on every windowsill. The darkness now responding to my thoughts felt like wearing someone else’s skin.

Why would she and Maximo want this? What could they possibly gain by forcing this shadow-bending ability onto someone who practically radiated sunshine, at least according to my friends? The confusion stung almost as much as the betrayal.

I took a deep breath, trying to find that spark of hope I’d never lost before, even in my darkest moments. Maybe there were answers in this book. Maybe this wasn’t as terrible as itseemed. The shadows might be forced upon me, but how I faced this challenge, that was my choice.

With fingers that still trembled but grew steadier with each page turn, I flipped through Anton’s book, my eyes scanning the pages with growing fascination despite my fear. Then I spotted it—a simple exercise for beginners, titled “Shadow Extension.” According to the text, I just needed to focus on a shadow and imagine it as an extension of myself.

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