Page 57 of Oath of Blood and Joy

I thought of what I had seen and what Zoe had proclaimed. Now shame burned through me at the memory of my disbelief. Not only had I seen those creatures with my own eyes, but onehad pursued us through the night, those massive black wings cutting through the air as Serenity carried me above the bayou.

The image of its glowing red eyes was seared into my memory—inhuman, predatory, burning with ancient malice. The creature had been nothing like I’d ever seen before, moving with unnatural speed and grace despite its massive form.

Henry had been terrifying too—his transformation in that courtyard was something else entirely. What was he? And how many others were hidden throughout the city, wearing human faces as disguises?

“Dark Demons?” Gianna’s scowl deepened, carving lines into her otherwise flawless face. She moved to the bar with preternatural grace, pouring bronze liquid into a crystal glass. The clink of the decanter against the rim echoed in the sudden silence. Her hand trembled slightly. “I haven’t heard about them since the Great War when Ryker Khan was defeated.”

Elena crossed herself in a fluid motion, murmuring something too low for my human ears to catch. Her eyes, wide with ancient fear, darted to the windows as if expecting shadows to press against the glass.

Serenity’s face paled to a ghostly white, the blood draining so quickly I could almost hear it rushing away. She reached for my hand, her fingers ice cold against my skin. “Are they from hell?”

Gianna shook her head, the firelight casting dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones. She threw back the drink in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. The glass made a heavy sound as she set it down with controlled force.

“No,” she said, her eyes distant as if seeing across centuries. “They were once a unified race—powerful, ancient beings that existed in the shadows between worlds.” Her fingers traced the rim of her empty glass, the soft sound raising the hair on theback of my neck. “But everything changed when some of them drank from the angel Chamuel’s blood.”

Elena nodded solemnly. “Those who consumed the angel’s blood were transformed—their darkness purified into light. They became what we now call Golden Demons.”

“The split weakened the remaining Dark Demons,” Gianna continued, her voice hardening with the gravity of history. “They lost significant power, which is why they initiated the Great War—a desperate attempt to reclaim what they believed was stolen from them.” Her eyes focused sharply on Serenity. “If they’ve returned to New Orleans, it means they’re gathering strength for something... significant.”

My body tightened like a spring as I processed the implications. Angels again. Everything seemed to come back to angels—Serenity’s father, this ancient conflict, even my own newly discovered powers. Was I connected to this somehow?

Whatever was happening in New Orleans was bigger than kidnapped girls—it was part of an ancient conflict I’d never known existed until now. And now, my shadows and I were thrown in the middle of it.

Elena headed over to the bar, her movements graceful despite the tension in the air. “I think we need something to calm us,oui?” She smiled softly, though the concern never left her eyes. Her fingers, adorned with a single antique ring, traced the neck of a bottle of red wine before pulling it from the rack with practiced ease.

The clink of crystal against crystal echoed in the room as she poured two glasses of the deep burgundy liquid, the wine catching the firelight like liquid rubies. I watched her movements, grateful for the mundane ritual that seemed to anchor us all back to reality after talk of demons and ancient wars.

She then reached beneath the bar and retrieved a darker, more ornate decanter. The liquid inside moved differently—thicker, more viscous—as she tilted it carefully over two additional glasses. I suspected it was blood since it clung to the sides of the glass with a distinctive opacity. My stomach gave a small flip at the realization, even as I tried to keep my expression neutral. This was their world, after all, and I had been thrust into it against my will.

Elena’s hands trembled slightly as she poured—the first crack I’d seen in her composed demeanor since we’d arrived. Whatever these Dark Demons were, they clearly unsettled even centuries-old vampires.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Enzo

Angelo led us out of the fort, the night air thick with the stench of blood and death we’d left behind. Cicadas screamed from the surrounding trees, their relentless chorus a stark contrast to the eerie silence from the girls. The gravel crunched beneath our boots as we approached the clearing where Pascal waited with the limousine, its black surface gleaming like oil under the moonlight.

Surprisingly, all the girls fit in the back seat. They were crammed but they fit, huddling together like frightened birds, their heartbeats a rapid symphony to my sensitive ears. Some wept silently, while others stared with vacant eyes that had seen too much. The scent of their fear hung in the air, acrid and sharp, making my fangs itch beneath my gums.

Steve still carried the red-headed girl close to him, her small frame dwarfed in his arms. Her pulse was weak but steady, the rhythm somehow different from the others. I watched as he adjusted his hold, his fingers careful against her bruised and blistered skin, cradling her head as if she were made of spunglass. Something had shifted in him—the predator momentarily tamed by something more powerful than bloodlust.

I recognized the look in his eyes—the same fierce protectiveness that had driven me to tear through Maximo’s men tonight. The same need that now pulled me toward Joy with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Steve might have found something worth protecting, just as I had.

“I’m going to ride in the limo.” His eyes had darkened, possessive and protective in equal measure.

He opened the passenger door and slid into the passenger side, cradling the redhead against his chest. His movement against the seat created a soft whisper of friction, unnaturally loud in the tense silence. Through the tinted window, I caught his gaze one last time—a look that spoke volumes about what he was feeling. The newborn vampire was experiencing something I recognized all too well.

Angelo nodded to Pascal, who slipped behind the wheel with military precision. The engine purred to life, a low rumble that scattered nearby night birds from their perches. Mud sprayed from beneath the tires as the limousine began its journey through the bayou, the red taillights slowly disappearing into the misty darkness.

Dimitri emerged from the shadows, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, which he then licked clean with dramatic flair. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he surveyed what remained of our night’s work.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” he drawled, nodding toward the departing limousine. “Baby vamp’s found himself a little human pet. Do we need to have the birds and the bees talk with him? Or in our case, the bats and the blood?” His smirk was infuriating as always, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders that betrayed his eagerness to return to Gianna.

“Let’s go,” Angelo said, tilting his head. As I followed him, I heard the chorus of insects and the distant call of an alligator. Already his form was beginning to shimmer at the edges, the ancient magic of transformation rippling beneath his skin.

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Race you back? Last one there has to explain to Elena why there’s blood on the Persian rug... again.” His form began to blur and contract, the transformation more showy than necessary—typical Dimitri.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the change. My bones cracked and reformed, skin dissolving into leathery wings as my consciousness compressed into something primal yet focused. The night air felt different against my altered form—richer, filled with currents and scents imperceptible to human senses.

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