Page 2 of Cry of Blood and Joy
The thought of staying there sickened me. Serenity had suffered so much in that house. I was sure the ghost of her stepfather, Freddie Evans, still walked those halls. He’d always made me want to take a shower just from being in the same room with him. It was the way he’d look at me—like he was slowly undressing me with his eyes—then lick his lips afterward.
Steve shook his head. “That nightmare place?”
Enzo narrowed his eyes. “You got a better idea?”
Steve was quiet for a long moment then bowed his head. “No.”
Enzo stretched out his hand. “Come on. We have to go now before Angelo gets organized and sends out more men.”
“I should use my shadows to cover us.” My hands trembled as I flexed my fingers, feeling the familiar dark energy stirring beneath my skin like restless serpents.
He gave me a sympathetic look, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a gentle caress. “We can’t risk it. If something should go wrong, it would draw Angelo to us.”
I winced as if he’d slapped me across the face, my chest tightening. Now I was more of a liability than a help, a weapon that couldn’t be trusted not to hurt the people I loved most.
I slipped my hand into his, my palm damp with nervous sweat. His skin was warm and reassuring, but I couldn’t stop dreading where we were going and, even more, what would happen if Angelo found us there. Cold fingers of panic crept up my neck, and I shivered.
“Stay close,” Enzo murmured, his breath warm against my ear. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something darker, more dangerous—the metallic edge that came with his vampire nature.
He lifted me into his arms effortlessly, one hand supporting my back while the other cradled my thighs. The world tilted, and I gripped his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. Then he was moving with inhuman speed, and everything became a blur of motion and wind.
The muggy air whipped past my face, carrying the scents of the French Quarter—cigarette smoke, fried food, and the underlying mustiness of the old city. Streetlights streaked by like fallen stars, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the dizzying rush of speed.
Steve’s footsteps pounded behind us, his breathing labored as he struggled to keep pace with Enzo’s supernatural velocity. I could hear his heart racing, smell the anxiety sweat on his skin even over the rushing wind.
I laid my head against Enzo’s chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my cheek—slower than a human’s, but reassuring in its consistency. His arms tightened around me protectively, and despite everything, I was filled with safety from his embrace.
But it wouldn’t last.
Soon we’d be at that house, surrounded by ghosts and memories of suffering, hiding from the dawn while Angelo hunted us through the streets of New Orleans.
I wasn’t sure there was anywhere in this town that we’d be safe. But then, Angelo’s connections stretched out from beyond NOLA. Was there anywhere we could go that he wouldn’t find us?
Chapter Two
Enzo
I led Steve and my girl through the winding backstreets of NOLA, keeping to the shadows where the streetlights couldn’t reach us. The narrow alleyways reeked of sugar-sweet hurricane drinks tourists had spilled and rotting garbage, but they kept us hidden from Angelo’s searching eyes. My enhanced hearing picked up every sound: distant laughter from late-night revelers, the scurrying of rats, the hum of air conditioning units working overtime against the oppressive humidity.
When we finally reached Serenity’s childhood home, I wasn’t fully sure it was the right place. The property management company had completely transformed the little ranch house. Fresh white paint gleamed under the porch light, a stark contrast to the peeling, weather-beaten siding I remembered. New black shutters framed windows that actually had intact screens now, and the front steps no longer sagged under their own weight.
It had been more of a broken-down shack the last time I’d seen it—back when Freddie Evans still drew breath. The yardhad been a wasteland then: more weeds than grass, discarded beer cans glinting in the moonlight like scattered coins, and that piece of shit rusted Ford sitting in the driveway with three flat tires and a spider web crack across the windshield. The smell of neglect had hung over the place like a funeral shroud.
Now someone had actually bothered to plant grass. The small lawn was neatly trimmed, bordered by flower beds that held the ghosts of recent blooms. The driveway was clear, the concrete power washed clean of old oil stains. Even the mailbox stood straight instead of listing to one side like a drunken sailor.
But no amount of remodeling could erase what had happened here. I could still smell the fear that had soaked into these walls, still hear the echo of Serenity’s childhood tears. This place would always be tainted, no matter how pretty they made it look.
I carefully lowered Joy onto her feet, my hands lingering on her waist to steady her. Her legs trembled beneath her, and I could feel the exhaustion radiating from her small frame. Her face was flushed from our frantic journey, strands of dark hair sticking to her damp forehead. Wariness and shock filled her eyes as she took in Serenity’s old home; her pupils dilated with stress and fear.
The sticky air hung thick around us, heavy with the scent of jasmine from a neighbor’s garden and the underlying mustiness that clung to this part of town. A dog barked somewhere in the distance and I froze, focusing on whether we’d been followed.
She stared at the house, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “This place looks so different. It almost looks…homey.”
Steve wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his red hair darkened with perspiration. “Fresh paint can’t hide the hell that went on here,” he murmured as he clutched his hands into fists. “Evans was truly a monster.”
Joy’s shoulders sagged as she stared down at her feet. “And I created a monster who now wants all of us dead.”
I stepped closer and gently placed my fingers under her chin. “What’s done is done,” I said as my thumb brushed over her trembling lip. Her skin was soft and warm beneath my touch, and I could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse. “Come on. Let’s get inside. TheFor Rentsign is still up, so it’s probably still empty.”
