Page 38 of Cry of Blood and Joy
I swore under my breath.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Balthazar was a demon trapped in the deepest pits of hell, caged by Satan himself for the ultimate failure—not securing a bargain with Vlad and bringing down the wrath of the Archangel Michael.
The leather seat beneath me suddenly felt like ice against my skin as the full horror of it sank in. I met Keir’s gaze. “But my question is why do they want Joy?”
Keir’s expression grew grave, shadows playing across his aristocratic features like omens of doom. “My guess is to use her shadow powers along with the Anchoring Obsidian Stone to unlock his cage.” Each word fell between us like coffins into a grave. “Her abilities are rare, ancient. Combined with the stone’s power...”
Panic seized my throat like a vice, cutting off my air supply and making my vision tunnel to a single, terrifying point of clarity. My heart thundered so violently I was sure everyone in the limousine could hear it. The taste of copper and fear flooded my mouth as one thought consumed every fiber of my being.
I had to get back to Joy. If Ari found her…
Chapter Twenty-Six
Joy
Marsha’s fingers bit into my arm like iron talons, her perfectly manicured nails digging through the fabric of my sleeve and into the tender flesh beneath. She dragged me across the warped wooden floor of the desecrated church with a strength that belied her elegant appearance; my feet stumbling over broken pieces of stained glass that crunched beneath my shoes like the bones of long-dead saints.
The interior of St. Louis Cathedral was a mockery of its former sanctity—pews overturned and rotting, holy symbols defaced with dark stains, and the air thick with the cloying scent of decay. Something sulfurous burned my nostrils with each desperate breath, making me choke. Shafts of dusty sunlight filtered through the boarded windows, creating a hellish pattern of light and shadow that painted everything in shades of damnation.
“Steve!” His name tore from my throat in a raw sob of anguish and fury. My hands shook with the desperate need toreach him, to tear those chains from the wall with my bare hands if necessary.
But the bracelets on my wrists burned. I was useless.
“Let her go, you bitch,” he snarled.
Marsha laughed. “No.”
Steve pulled frantically on his chains, the metal links rattling against the stone wall in a rhythm of hopeless desperation. His muscles strained against the bonds, tendons standing out like cords in his neck as he fought with every ounce of strength left in his battered body. But the chains were supernaturally strong, probably blessed with dark magic that would hold even a creature far more powerful than a vampire. Possibly even strong enough to hold Enzo.
God, what had I gotten him into? He’d warned me this would happen, and I’d dragged him into danger anyway. Now he’d come for me—I knew he would—and I’d be responsible for destroying the man I loved.
Marsha’s grip on my arm tightened, her perfectly applied lipstick stretching into a cruel smile that transformed her beautiful face into something monstrous.
Ari strolled over with predatory grace, his footsteps echoing through the desecrated church like a funeral march. His hands were clasped behind his back in a casual pose that somehow made him appear even more dangerous, like a professor preparing to deliver a lecture on the finer points of suffering. Those piercing blue eyes gleamed with anticipation, and his beautiful, terrible face was bright with excitement—like he’d just won the jackpot. The expression made my anger simmer beneath my skin, the shadows begging to be released to hurt him.
“Now, little Unseelie,” he purred, his voice silk wrapped around steel, “you will work with me, use your shadows to please me, or your brother will pay the price for your defiance.”
“Don’t do it, Joy.” Steve yanked violently on his chains, the metal links shrieking against stone in a symphony of futile rage. His one good eye blazed with protective fury even through the pain and exhaustion. “He’s fucking crazy. Don’t give him what he wants.”
Ari moved with inhuman speed, his hand cutting through the air like a striking viper. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the church with a wet, meaty crack that made me flinch as if I’d been struck myself. Steve’s head snapped sideways from the force of the blow, slamming against the stone wall with a sickening thud that seemed to reverberate through my bones.
Blood burst from his already split lip in a crimson spray, droplets spattering against the moldy church wall like abstract art painted in agony. Steve’s head lolled forward, a low groan escaping his throat as consciousness flickered behind his battered features.
“No! Leave him alone!” The cry tore from my throat—raw, primal, filled with a sister’s protective fury. I reached for the shadows again, using every ounce of power I had. Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead and my body trembled.
But once again, nothing happened.
The sensation was like reaching for a limb that had been severed. I could feel the phantom memory of what should be there, but my grasp closed on empty air. There was no tingle of magic, no whisper of supernatural strength rising to meet my desperate need. The silver bracelets around my wrists pulsed with malevolent energy, and I realized I was cut off from everything that made me more than human. I was powerless. Defenseless. Just... mortal.
Ari flashed me a look of pure sadistic pleasure. “Do you know what one of my most delightful powers is, little Unseelie?” Each word rolled off his tongue like honey laced with poison. He held up his right hand with the reverence of an artist displaying hismasterpiece, rotating it slowly in the filtered sunlight so I could see every detail of what was about to unfold.
His fingernails began to lengthen and sharpen with a sound like metal scraping against bone. They grew longer and longer, transforming from ordinary human nails into gleaming talons that curved like scythes designed for harvesting souls. The surface of each nail seemed to shimmer with an oily, iridescent quality—like oil slicks reflecting light, but darker, more sinister.
I trembled so hard that my teeth rattled. What was he? Was he just a demon or something much, much worse?
“My nails possess the blood of dead demons.” He flexed his fingers experimentally, his deadly talons cutting through the humid air with nothing more than a faint whisper. “Concentrated essence from the darkest pits of hell, powerful enough to kill a Dark or Golden Demon with just a scratch.”
His smile widened into something that belonged in nightmares, all sharp edges and cruel anticipation. Those piercing blue eyes fixed on Steve’s battered form with the hungry focus of a predator selecting which piece of prey to devour first.
“It won’t kill a made vampire,” he said with mock disappointment, tilting his head as if genuinely saddened by this limitation. “Even a newly made one like your precious older brother here.”
