Page 12 of Cry of Blood and Joy
“I do.” I brushed past him without another word. The sooner I got the information and got out of here, the better I could protect Joy. Steve was vulnerable during the daylight and if Angelo discovered them…
It was something I couldn’t risk.
I climbed up the stairs, and two guards were at the front door. Keir must have contacted them because they opened it for me.
I slipped past where a servant waited for me. He was tall and thin and had deep blue eyes. He wasn’t an Unseelie. He was human. Interesting. “Lord Rankin is waiting for you.”
He escorted me up the polished marble stairs, our footsteps echoing softly in the grand foyer before we reached the second floor. The elegant parlor beyond screamed money—high ceilings with fancy molding, cream walls decorated with painted flowers and vines that circled the room. The fake garden looked real enough I almost expected to smell actual flowers instead of old wood, expensive furniture polish, and tea.
Crystal chandeliers lit up expensive furniture and dark red chairs. Thick rugs covered the hardwood floors. It was the kind of setup that cost more than most people made in a year.
Keir sat in a wingback chair by the windows, drinking tea from expensive-looking china. White with gold edges—fancy stuff that made me want to break something.
Behind him stood Lorcan Blackthorn, his chief enforcer, positioned like a dark shadow against the room’s refined beauty. His usually cropped hair had grown out slightly. But it was his expression that made me pause. Instead of his typical mask of frozen hatred, cold calculation, and barely restrained violence, he wore a smirk. Not the cruel smile of anticipating pain, but something almost... amused.
What was that about?
His servant motioned to me. “Enzo Di Salvo, my lord.”
“Thank Jacobs,” Keir said, dismissing the servant with a wave of his pale hand. The human melted back into the shadows almost as if he were Unseelie. Ancient tomes lined the walls, their leather bindings exhaling the musty scent of centuries-old secrets.
Keir put the cup down on the table and settled into his high-backed chair. His fingers steepled as he gazed up at me with the calculating look of a chess master considering his next move. The morning light streaming through the tall windows glistened off his white hair, making him look like he was angel. More like adark angel. “Tell me, Enzo,” he said, his voice deceptively casual. “Has your mate hurt anyone else with her powers?”
The question cut into my heart. My chest tightened, and a familiar burn of protective rage built up in my gut. “Angelo told you?”
“Yes.” Keir’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “He was quite emphatic that he wants to kill your mate. Graphic, even, in his descriptions of what he plans to do to her.”
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, knuckles cracking audibly in the sudden silence. The memory of Joy’s terrified face when her powers had exploded outward flashed through my mind—the way she’d collapsed afterward, sobbing apologies, begging for forgiveness.
“Was Serenity seriously hurt?” The words came out rougher than I intended, scraped raw by guilt that wrapped around my ribs like barbed wire.
Keir’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained watchful. “She’s in a coma, Enzo,” Keir said softly. “My healers have seen her and don’t know when or if she’ll wake up. Angelo won’t let this go unpunished.”
FuckFuckFuck
Joy would never forgive herself for this and I wanted to protect her. Maybe if she didn’t know...but if she found out from someone else that I had lied or kept it from her, she’d be furious with me.
“What about her father—the Archangel Raphael?” Desperation almost cracked my resolve to remain cool. Surely the most powerful healer in existence could save his own daughter.
He shrugged, though unease flickered across his features. “Angelo hasn’t been able to reach him.” His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair. “Radio silence from the heavenlyrealm. Either Raphael doesn’t know what’s happened to his daughter or…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication permeated the air like a poisonous cloud. Or he’s choosing not to intervene.
“But Serenity is a healer—” I started, grasping at any thread of hope.
“I doubt healers can heal themselves if they’re in a coma,” Keir interrupted, his tone gentle but final. The pity in his eyes made my chest ache. “Especially not from damage caused by raw, untrained power. Your mate’s abilities... They’re unlike anything I’ve encountered, Enzo. The energy signature alone nearly overwhelmed my most experienced practitioners.”
My spine snapped straight, every muscle in my body going rigid with defiance. The predator in me reared its head, fangs aching to descend. “It was an accident.” The words came out sharp, deadly. “Joy didn’t mean?—“
“Angelo doesn’t believe in accidents,” Keir interrupted. He leaned forward slightly, studying my face like he was reading a map to my soul. “You know this. You know him. When has Angelo ever shown mercy to anyone he perceives as a threat?”
I didn’t need to answer that. Obviously, Angelo would never show mercy. That left only one option—Joy had to gain control of her powers before he found us. Silence drifted between us.
He tilted his head. “So tell me, Enzo, what is it that you want?”
Lorcan still hadn’t said a word—and that was wrong. The enforcer I knew would have already made some cutting remark, thrown out a threat disguised as casual conversation, or at least acknowledged my presence with his trademark cold sarcasm. But this version just watched. Like he was studying me, watching me with that uncharacteristic smirk playing at the corners of his mouth instead of hating me.
Was I imagining things? Reading too much into a moment of quiet? But every instinct I’d honed over centuries screamed he was planning my demise.
