Page 57 of Cry of Blood and Joy
Keir gestured toward the leather sofa where Rocco sat perfectly motionless. At least he wasn’t drooling. But that didn’t matter. The man looked like a living statue—not blinking, barely breathing, staring straight ahead with glassy eyes that seemed to be seeing something none of us could perceive. His hands rested on his knees in an unnaturally perfect position, and there was something deeply unsettling about his absolute stillness.
Rose’s gaze darted frantically between Rocco’s vacant expression and the door, her internal war between helping her friend and saving information clearly tearing her apart. She wrinkled her nose. “The dark magic’s stench is getting stronger.” She coughed, putting her arm over her mouth.
“I can smell it too,” Alice said quietly. She moved closer to study Rocco with focused intensity, her footsteps silent on the Persian rug. She leaned forward slightly, her nostrils flaring delicately as she inhaled the lingering traces of dark magic that clung to him like invisible smoke.
Her green eyes narrowed with concentration, pupils dilating as if she were trying to see something beyond the physical realm. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach out but was afraid of what she might touch. “Whoever did this, they were incredibly powerful. The magical signature is... wrong. Twisted.”
Not what I wanted to hear. Was Joy suffering the same fate? Was she trapped in some nightmarish trance while Ari used herfor whatever sick plan he’d concocted? My hands clenched into tight fists, and I had to force myself to take a steadying breath. I fought to stay in control, to keep the rage from consuming what little rational thought I had left. “Can you heal him?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try.” Rose stepped forward with grim determination, rubbing her palms together until they began to glow with a soft, warm light. The air around her hands shimmered like heat waves rising from summer pavement. “Velithra,” she whispered. The word seemed to resonate through the room with power.
The moment she touched Rocco’s shoulders, the reaction was explosive. Rose’s body went rigid for a split second before she was launched backward. She flew through the air with a piercing cry of pain, arms windmilling helplessly as she crashed into Angelo’s solid chest.
Angelo caught her, his vampire reflexes allowing him to absorb the impact without being knocked over. His strong arms wrapped around her as she sagged against him, her face pale and drawn with shock and exhaustion. Anger flashed in his eyes. “What happened?”
Alice rushed over to her. “Rose, are you okay?”
Rose pulled away from Angelo, but she was shaking. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Rose shook her head weakly, strands of blonde hair sticking to her sweat-dampened forehead. Her hands were trembling violently now, burns marking her palms where she’d touched Rocco.
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She looked at Rocco warily. “The magic... it fought back. Like it was alive and protecting itself.” She gazed up at Angelo with haunted eyes. “I don’t... I don’t think I can break the curse. Whatever’s holding him is beyond my abilities.”
My stomach dropped as the implications hit me. The smell of burned magic lingered in the air—acrid and wrong, like ozone mixed with sulfur. If Rose couldn’t break a simple binding spell, what hope did we have against whatever Ari had planned?
Angelo’s dark gaze shifted from her to Alice with a cold calculation of the mafia king assessing potential threat. His shoulders tensed beneath his expensive shirt, and he flashed his fangs. “What exactly can you do?” The question came out flat and deadly and had the authority of someone who eliminated problems before they became complications.
I recognized the frustration in his posture, especially if the spell on Rocco could be a danger to Serenity. He would do anything to protect her. It would make him dangerous, very, very dangerous.
But he wasn’t the only one. The same desperate need to shield the woman you loved flowed through me. The only difference was that his woman was safe in this room while mine was in the hands of a monster.
The blood immediately drained from Alice’s face and she stepped back. Her hand flew to press against her chest in a gesture of nervous appeasement. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “You expect me to heal him when Rose couldn’t?”
Her reluctance could be normal fear—or was she really Ari? This would be exactly what Ari would want. To delay us, to keep us from getting the information we needed?
Angelo’s expression didn’t soften. He studied her with the dispassionate interest of someone evaluating an asset. “You’re a Ravencrest,” he said coolly, rubbing his chin as he processed the information. “Ian Ravencrest’s family?”
“He was my uncle.” Alice’s voice grew cautious under his scrutiny, clearly understanding she was being assessed. “My father, Erik, was his brother.”
Ravencrest’s bloodline. My mind raced. Erik’s magic had been powerful enough to level cities. If Alice carried even a fraction of that legacy, everything just changed.
“Powerful bloodline.” Angelo’s gaze shifted to me, and I could see he was thinking the same thing I was. “They fought in the Cormac war.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Alice’s jaw tightened slightly as if she was trying to keep her composure. She shook her head then gave a small smile. “They died fighting in the war when I was at Goody Magic Academy.” She glanced down at her feet. “The Moon Coven took me in afterward.”
I exchanged a knowing look with Angelo. The Moon Coven. We had dealt with them before. My pulse quickened. Their leader was Tinker Bell—hardly a fairy, but a witch powerful enough to make even Angelo cautious.
I studied her with keen intensity, my gaze taking in every detail of her posture and expression as I searched for any sign of deception or weakness. “Tinker Bell trained you?” The question came out more like an interrogation than casual conversation.
Tinker Bell didn’t waste time on weaklings. If she’d trained Alice, the girl had serious potential.
Alice straightened her spine defensively. Her green eyes flashed with a mixture of pride and defiance. “Yes. She’s more than my mentor. She’s family.” The fierce protectiveness in her eyes was how I felt about Joy—that bone-deep loyalty that would drive you to kill or die.
Tinker Bell’s protégé might just be what I needed to take down Ari.
I gestured toward Rocco, whose vacant stare seemed to mock our desperation. “If she trained you, I assume you would be able to break his spell.”
“Just because Tinker Bell trained me doesn’t mean I’m as powerful as Rose,” she insisted. Her hands twisted together nervously, fingers pale from the pressure.
