Page 34 of Cry of Blood and Joy
Someone—or something—with the power to steal memories, to become a perfect duplicate down to the cellular level, was loose in New Orleans.
And they’d just declared war on two of the most dangerous supernatural beings in the city.
There was only one person I could think of that could do this—Ari—the Dark Demon shifter.
If it was him, we were all in serious danger. Ari could shift into anyone—me, Keir, even Joy—and we’d never know until it was too late. But worse than the deception were his claws. His nails weren’t just razor-sharp—they were infused with dead demon blood, making them lethal to any supernatural creature. One scratch, and even a newly made vampire would be dead within hours, the poison eating through their supernatural healing like acid through paper.
Made vampires would take longer—days or weeks—but it would be agony.
The question wasn’t whether his power had grown stronger—it was whether any of us would survive long enough to figure out his game.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joy
I wondered where Enzo was, my eyes desperately scanning every shadow-draped doorway, every darkened alley mouth that gaped like hungry wounds between the crumbling buildings. But there was no sign of him—not a whisper of his presence, not even the subtle shift in the air that usually announced his arrival. He was a vampire enforcer, after all, a creature born from darkness who could melt into shadows like they were old lovers welcoming him home. I would never see him again.
Tears stung my eyes, hot and bitter as they traced paths down my cheeks. Each drop felt like a small death, a piece of my heart dissolving and falling away. The ache in my chest was so profound it felt like my ribs might crack under the weight of it. Enzo—with his dangerous smile and eyes that held centuries of secrets, who had become my anchor in this supernatural storm—was lost to me now. Forever.
Dimitri’s hands gripped the steering wheel with practiced ease as we pulled away from the sleazy part of town, the morning sun casting harsh shadows that made everything look even moresordid in the unforgiving daylight. I pressed my face to the cool window. The neon signs looked pale and powerless in the harsh daylight, fading in the rearview mirror like the last glimpse of a life I’d never get back.
Each heartbeat was a painful reminder of what I was leaving behind. The familiar landmarks blurred past—strip clubs, pawn shops, the seedy part of town where I’d found love in the most unexpected place.
I had been expecting the smooth turn toward Bourbon Street, toward the heart of Angelo’s empire where Crescent Manor stood like a Gothic testament to his power, where the Crimson Stakes casino pulsed with supernatural energy and mortal folly.
The sun climbed higher as we crossed the bridge over Lake Pontchartrain. The city’s gritty embrace began to loosen, and I realized with growing dread that we were heading into the bayou country that stretched for miles beyond the city limits. Places where no one would hear my screams.
The Spanish moss hung like gnarled fingers as we drove deeper into Louisiana’s ancient heartland. I glanced over at Dimitri. His jaw was set with the kind of determination that spoke of orders already given, decisions already made. Did Angelo have other plans for me? Plans that wouldn’t stain the pristine marble floors of Crescent Manor or disturb the elegant atmosphere of his casino, where humans gambled away their souls without ever knowing the true cost?
My hands were clenched so tightly in my lap my knuckles had gone white, the circulation cut off like my hope. Each breath felt stolen, borrowed time ticking away with every mile we traveled into the swampland’s embrace. In the bayou, surrounded by murky water and cypress trees that had witnessed centuries of secrets, it would be so much easier to dispose of a body. No questions asked, no evidence left behind—just another soul claimed by the Louisiana wetlands, where alligators and time erased all sins with equal indifference.
The silence in the car was suffocating, broken only by the steady hum of tires on asphalt and the distant sounds of the awakening day—birds calling to each other across the brightening sky, the far-off rumble of morning traffic. I could smell the swamp now, that distinctive cocktail of decay and rebirth blending into the warm, humid air that pressed against the windows.
The sun climbed higher, its rays filtering through the Spanish moss in dappled patterns that should have been beautiful but only reminded me this might be my last morning. It was the perfect place for endings, and as Dimitri’s cold eyes remained fixed on the sun-drenched road ahead. Something deep inside warned me that death was approaching faster than the next bend in the road.
I finally couldn’t take the oppressive quiet any longer and my unspoken fears came crushing down on my chest until I thought I might suffocate. I glanced nervously over at Dimitri. “Is Serenity all right?”
He kept his focus laser-straight ahead, his marble profile revealing nothing, as if my question was no more significant than asking about the weather. “I wouldn’t know. Possibly. Or not.” His shoulder lifted in the barest suggestion of a shrug, dismissive and cold. “Not my problem.”
His cavalier attitude hit me like a slap, sending a flash of anger through my fear-numbed system. How could he be so heartlessly nonchalant about her? Serenity was his sister-in-law, family by blood and marriage, yet he spoke of her potential suffering with all the emotion of ordering a specialty coffee. The casual cruelty in his tone made my hands clench tighter in my lap, fingernails digging crescents into my palms.
But even as irritation flared hot in my chest, confusion followed close behind. From what I’d heard whispered in the dark corners of Angelo’s world, Dimitri had built quite the reputation—selfish, ruthless, a vampire who thought only of himself and his own survival. The stories painted him as someone who would step over his own family’s corpses if it served his interests.
Yet I hadn’t seen him act like that. Not really. The memory rose unbidden—Dimitri risking everything at Maximo’s hideout, his fangs bared and eyes blazing as he fought through armed guards to reach us. He’d put his own immortal life on the line to save me and the other girls, had bled for strangers when he could have simply walked away. That didn’t match the cold monster everyone claimed he was.
So which was the real Dimitri? The callous vampire sitting beside me now, or the unlikely savior who had pulled me from hell itself?
He drove further into the bayou, and with each winding turn deeper into the primordial wilderness, my anxiety spiked like electric shocks through my nervous system. The familiar weight of dread settled heavier in my chest with every mile. Where was Angelo hiding in this godforsaken swampland? Had the vampire king abandoned his luxurious domain for something more primitive and terrifying? Did he have some new stronghold out here, some place where screams would be swallowed by the hungry silence of the wetlands?
I thought of Enzo with such desperate, aching intensity that it felt like my soul was reaching across the miles to find him. In my mind, I could see him bursting through the twisted cypress trees like an avenging angel, his dark eyes blazing with protective fury as he cut down anyone who dared to threaten me. I fantasized about his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his chest where his heart should beat, whisperingfierce promises that everything would be all right. He had saved me before—had materialized from shadows like some beautiful, deadly guardian when I thought all hope was lost.
But he wasn’t here.
The brutality of his absence carved into my chest, leaving a gaping hole. Even if every fiber of my being screamed for him, even if I would have given anything to see his face emerge from the Spanish moss like salvation itself, I couldn’t go with him—not even if I wanted to with every desperate breath in my body.
Because if he came for me now, if he charged into this nightmare like the hero I needed him to be, he would end up captured like Steve—beaten and broken. Based on what Enzo had told me, mercy wasn’t one of Angelo Santi’s qualities, especially when it came to anyone hurting Serenity. The vampire king would delight in destroying Enzo slowly, methodically, making me watch every moment of agony as payment for me hurting her.
The thought of witnessing Enzo’s destruction, of seeing those beautiful dark eyes dim with pain while I stood helpless and bound, wasn’t something I could survive. My mind recoiled from the image like touching a white-hot brand, but I couldn’t stop the horrific visions from playing behind my closed eyelids—Enzo’s blood spraying the walls, his voice calling my name as life ebbed away, his body crumpling like a broken doll while Angelo’s laughter echoed through the chamber.
