Page 50 of Cry of Blood and Joy
The transformation in his voice was startling—it dropped to a deeper, more authoritative tone that sounded nothing like the Ari I knew. The accent was different too, more refined, carrying an authority that made my blood run cold.
I leaned back against the cold stone wall behind me, feeling the rough texture scrape against my shoulders through my torn clothing. The ancient stones seemed to leech what little warmth remained in my body, and I was powerless to do anything but listen and wait, praying that somehow, somewhere, help was coming.
“Good evening, King Gunnar. I’m sorry for calling you at such a late hour, but I have some distressing news.” Ari’s voicecarried through the hollow church with that unnatural authority, each word carefully modulated to sound genuinely regretful.
King Gunnar? Who was that? I had no idea who this person was, or why anyone escaping from somewhere called ‘the Hollows’ mattered, but the satisfaction in Ari’s voice made my blood run cold. My head pounded as I tried to make sense of the name, but thinking felt like swimming through molasses. Whatever trap he was setting, I was apparently a crucial piece of it.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, and the smile that spread across his face in the flickering candlelight was pure malevolence—cold, calculating, and utterly without mercy. It was the kind of smile that belonged on a predator who had just revealed the true scope of his trap, and it froze my blood in my veins.
“Unfortunately, I regret to inform you your sister and her fiancé have escaped from the Hollows.”
I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but that smile... that smile meant someone’s escape had just made my situation a whole lot worse.
I had to get out of here! Enzo would know what this meant. I threw myself against my restraints with desperate fury, my entire body convulsing as I fought the unyielding chains. The iron links crashed together in a cacophony of metallic clanging that echoed through the hollow sanctuary like church bells gone mad. My shoulders screamed in agony as I wrenched against the manacles, feeling the fused metal tear deeper into my already raw flesh. Fresh blood ran down my arms in warm rivulets, dripping onto the cracked stone floor below.
Muffled sounds tore from my throat—desperate, incoherent protests that the leather gag reduced to nothing more than pathetic animal whimpers. The strap cut deeper into the corners of my mouth with each violent movement, and I could tastecopper where it had split my lips. Tears of rage and helplessness streamed down my face, hot against my fevered skin.
I didn’t know what this all meant, but I knew it was bad—catastrophically, everyone-is-going-to-die bad.
“Yes, my informants told me that they plan to go to New Orleans and hook up with Keir Rankin.” Ari paced slowly in front of the crumbling altar. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls with deliberate precision—click, click, click—each sound marking another thread in his web of deception. The candlelight cast his moving shadow across the walls like some dark puppeteer orchestrating a nightmare.
“I’m not sure what they’re planning, but I assure you it’s not good.”
My struggles became more frantic, more desperate. The chains sang their metallic song as I thrashed, and my broken thumb pulsed in agony. But I didn’t care. I had to find a way to warn someone, anyone, about what was really happening.
“Yes, I think that’s best, Your Highness. I will warn Angelo Santi and Trystan Hunter that Keir is aligning himself with your sister. I’m sorry to have to disappoint you.” He paused, listening, then shook his head as if Gunnar could see him. “No, I will not be coming to New Orleans. I fear there is trouble brewing here, and I must find out how deep this treachery goes.”
The phone call ended with a soft click that seemed to echo forever in the suffocating silence. Ari slipped the device back into his pocket with casual satisfaction, then turned to face me with that same predatory smile.
“Just as I planned.” His voice dropped back to its normal register, losing the false authority and revealing the cold triumph beneath. “Gunnar and his little bitch queen are coming here.”
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs as dread pooled in my stomach like ice water. He knelt in frontof me with deliberate slowness, bringing his face level with mine. The candlelight flickered across his features, casting deep shadows that made him look even more sinister.
“This is where you come into play, my dear.” He gently lifted my chin with his long fingers, making me shudder.
I shook my head vehemently, the motion sending fresh waves of pain through my skull where he’d grabbed my hair earlier. My entire body radiated defiance even as I remained helplessly chained. Whatever he wanted from me, whatever role he expected me to play in his twisted scheme, I would find a way to refuse.
“You’re going to help us deal with the king and queen. If you don’t...” His smile turned coldly triumphant. “I have another surprise for you.”
The sound of struggling and muffled protests came from the church’s entrance. Two men dragged in the last person I wanted to see in this nightmare—Zoe Moore. My heart nearly broke in two.
She was supposed to be far, far away from here, safe at home with her parents, living a normal life away from all this supernatural chaos. Enzo had freed her and the other girls from the traffickers. Her glistening green eyes were wide with terror, the same look she’d worn when traffickers had threatened to sell her. Tears tracked down her dirt-smudged cheeks. Her beautiful dark red hair was tangled and wild, flying around her face in a disheveled mess. Her arms were bound behind her back, and she moved with the awkward, stumbling gait of someone who’d been roughly handled.
Marsha approached Zoe with wicked elegance, producing a gleaming dagger from somewhere within her clothing. The blade caught the candlelight as she positioned it near Zoe’s throat—not touching, but close enough the threat was unmistakable.
“We intercepted her before she could leave town,” Marsha said with casual cruelty. “I put a memory spell on her family. They don’t even remember she exists now.”
The casual mention of erasing someone’s entire existence from their loved ones’ minds made my stomach churn with revulsion. Through my gag, I tried to convey to Zoe that everything would be okay, though I had no idea how I could possibly make that true. Ari moved closer, his breath hot against my ear. “And if you think watching me hurt this girl is painful, wait until I bring in your vampire. Yes, we have plans for dear Enzo too.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Enzo
Something inside me shattered—not my heart, but something deeper. My sense of who I was, who I'd tried to be for over two centuries. I looked down at my bloodstained hands, at Dimitri's unconscious form, at the destruction I'd caused in my desperate need to save Joy. Christ. I'd told myself every act of violence was justified because it was for her, but when had loving Joy become an excuse for becoming just another monster wearing Enzo Di Salvo’s face? When had protecting her turned me into the very thing she'd need protecting from?
I stared at Serenity, not knowing how to answer these questions.
She knelt gracefully in front of the burgundy leather sofa where Dimitri lay motionless, her slender form casting long shadows in the warm lamplight. Dried blood had coated his angular face in dark, rust-colored streaks, matting his usually pristine dark hair into clumps that stuck to his forehead and temples. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air, mixing withthe expensive leather and polished wood that normally gave this room its refined atmosphere.
