Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Angelo

As I approached Serenity and Freddie's house, the horrible stench of neglect and decay assaulted my nostrils. The two-story structure was more of a hovel, with patches of dirt instead of grass and the shriveled remains of rose bushes standing sentry by the front door. The peeling, faded pink paint revealed rotting wood, and one splintered shutter hung askew, threatening to fall off its rusted hinges at any moment.

The sight of the home of the man who had dared to hurt Serenity filled me with rage, and I looked forward to teaching him the consequences of his actions. I cracked my neck, my muscles coiled like a snake ready to strike. Before I attacked an enemy, I was always completely calm—a lesson I had learned from Dracula himself .

"Keep your emotions in check," he'd always said. "Rashness leads to death. Assess your surroundings and always remain in control."

My fangs itched to sink into Freddie's flesh, to taste his blood and watch the light fade from his eyes. But I had to be patient.

I couldn't tell if anyone was home as I headed toward the front door. I sniffed the air and detected the scent of humans, but that could have been Freddie's neighbors.

I twisted the rusty doorknob, breaking it, then kicked the weakened door in. The stench of stale alcohol and grease hit me as I entered the trashed living room. Potato chip crumbs crunched under my boots as I navigated a labyrinth of empty beer cans and dirty dishes left haphazardly on coffee tables and couches. A half-eaten steak and baked potato sat abandoned on an end table, surrounded by candy wrappers and more chip remnants. The one smell I wasn't getting was human blood.

Petar and some of my other men arrived, shaking their heads.

Damn. The rat had disappeared. Would Simon have warned him I was coming? No. He'd practically pissed his pants when I confronted him. Maybe someone else had tipped him off.

Nothing annoyed me more than when I had to hunt down my prey when I was eager to strike.

My hands shook with anger as I pulled out my phone, my heart racing as I dialed Keir's number. He picked up on the first ring, his voice tense and hurried. "You need to give me more time?—"

I got straight to the point. "Do you know anything about a Freddie Evans?"

"Evans…Evans…" Keir paused, thinking. "Yeah, I remember him. Used to be a big shot around here, always strutting around like he owned the place, bragging about his gambling skills."

"But not anymore?"

Keir let out a mirthless chuckle. "Word on the street is, he's been on a bad losing streak. Owes a lot of people money and can't pay them back."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"I think he's been holed up with some woman over on Magnolia Crescent Way. Belinda…Stone, I think her name is. She's living at Madame Charlotte's House." A hint of disdain crept into Keir's voice. "She was a dancer at one of Maximo's strip clubs before."

My eyes narrowed. The fact that he knew so much about Belinda Stone and her connection to Freddie suggested he had been keeping tabs on Serenity and investigating her background, but I could tell he was holding something more back. "How do you know all this?"

Keir hesitated before answering. "Let's just say Belinda and some of my men have crossed paths before."

Bingo. "Later, Keir. Thanks."

He quickly added, "Still looking into our agreement about the murdered girls."

"Good." I hung up the phone and turned to my men. "We need to go to Magnolia Crescent Way."

I darted out of the dilapidated shack and transformed into a bat, my leathery wings carrying me toward the seedier part of New Orleans. The streets here were lined with dimly lit bars and strip joints, the acrid smells of urine and cheap beer filling the air.

Hovering above Sweet Babes, one of Maximo's infamous girlie clubs, I could hear blaring jazz music pouring out of its doors. The place was notorious for working their girls until they were worn out and broken.

I landed on the rooftop of Madame Charlotte's House next door and wasted no time in breaking in. I quickly picked the lock with my sharp vampire claws and kicked open the door, sending it crashing against the wall.

As I descended the creaky stairs at lightning speed, my heart was racing with adrenaline. I barged into a ground floor room, finding a bald man shrinking against the wall, his face a mask of horror. I grabbed his collar and yanked him up off the ground, his hands frantically gripping my wrist.

"Please—don't hurt me."

I shook him hard, my grip tightening on his collar until my knuckles turned white. "Where's Belinda Stone's apartment?" My words were laced with venom, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to strike if he didn't answer.

"Number thirteen," the man sputtered, spraying spit into my face.

I dropped him onto the worn green carpet, the smell of mold and mildew hitting me like a punch to the face. I raced down the hallway, past peeling wallpaper and flickering lights, until I reached number thirteen at the end. The stench here was even worse, with only a small window providing a sliver of fresh air.

I kicked open the door and stormed into the apartment, my rage barely contained as my men began trashing the place. Then I saw her: a startled older woman with bleached blonde hair. Heavy layers of makeup caked her face, but it couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes. I charged toward her, my eyes blazing with a fury that could no longer be restrained. A beaten-up recliner stood in my way, but I simply kicked it aside, sending it crashing into the wall with a satisfying thud.

The woman stumbled backward, tripping over the scattered beer cans that littered the floor. Her face paled, but her obvious fear did nothing to quell the inferno of wrath that consumed me. I loomed over her, my fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

"Where's Freddie?" I demanded, my teeth clenched and menace radiating from every fiber of my being. The two words were laced with a fury that promised retribution, a barely contained violence that threatened to explode at any moment.

Her lower lip trembled. "I…I…"

A blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway just as a tall, thin man careened into the wall in a desperate attempt to escape. Somehow, he almost managed to crawl up the vertical surface like a frantic cockroach, his limbs flailing as he sought an exit. Then, realizing the futility of his efforts, he turned around and stumbled toward the doorway, his movements clumsy and disoriented.

Seeing he was about to flee, I swiftly closed the distance between us with purposeful strides. Just as he reached the threshold, I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar, my vampire strength allowing me to lift him effortlessly off the floor. His feet kicked at the air, and he struggled in my unyielding grip, but I held him fast, determined to prevent his escape.

As I tightened my grip on his throat, the man's face drained of color, his pupils dilating as he trembled in my grasp. "So, you're Freddie," I snarled.

His eyes got three sizes too big. "I know you. You're…you're Angelo…Santi."

I gave him a smile full of fangs. "Yes. And your worst nightmare. You're the piece of shit who sold Serenity Bryce to Simon Cartier, right?"

I drew on my powers of compulsion and stared into his terrified gaze. "Tell me everything you did to her."

Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. Then the words could not be held in any longer—they tumbled out in jumbled, fragmented sentences as he told me everything. He confessed how he had cruelly beaten Serenity when she was just a child, leaving permanent scars on her back. How he had lusted over her for years as she grew older, waiting until her mother's passing to make his move. As he recounted what he had forced Serenity to endure, my fury reached new heights. The thought of him attacking her, forcing himself upon her, made my blood boil with a rage I had never known before. But when he revealed his ultimate cruelty—that he had killed her beloved dog, Sammie—something inside me snapped.

A roar of pure, unadulterated fury tore from my throat, and I slammed my fist into the wall behind his head so hard that it left a gaping hole in the plaster. The pain in my hand was nothing compared to the agony that twisted in my heart. Freddie had not only violated Serenity's body, but he had also crushed her soul by taking away the creature that had brought her happiness.

He kicked and squirmed, his hands slapping at my wrists. "I…I needed the money. The Fae…They were going to kill me…"

I gritted my teeth, squeezing my fingers tighter around his scrawny throat. I could feel his pulse thudding under my grip, the frantic heartbeat of a man who knew his end was near. Freddie's face turned purple and red as he gasped for air. The sight of his suffering only fueled the dark satisfaction that coursed through my veins even more.

"P-please," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I-I'm sorry…"

His pathetic words meant nothing to me. All I could think about was the pain he had inflicted upon Serenity, the scars he had left on both her body and soul. I wanted him to feel that pain, to understand the depths of my fury.

"Like I care that the Fae were going to stomp on a cockroach," I snarled, tightening my grip even more. The smell of his fear filled my nostrils, a sickly-sweet aroma that only served to intoxicate me. I could see the terror in his eyes, the realization that there would be no mercy, no escape from the hell I had in store for him.

In that moment, I knew that I would not stop until he had paid for his sins in blood and agony. Torturing him wasn't enough.

I needed more information about who kept setting me and Serenity up .

"Do you owe King Rankin and the dark Fae Mafia money?"

He sputtered. "Yes." So that's why Keir made it a point to know so much about Freddie.

I shook him harder. "Well, lucky you, Simon said you found a way to clear your debt. On that note—what do you know of angels?"

He looked around wildly, as if searching for a way out. "If I tell you…he'll kill me." The dark Fae were quite inventive in their torture. It was usually slow and always painful. No humans ever survived it. I should be handing this bastard over to Keir, but the prospect of killing him myself was giving me great pleasure.

I flashed my fangs. "And I'll kill you if you don't." I was going to kill him anyway, but the dirty little rat didn't need to know that.

"No…I'm begging you…" His sniveling voice just made me want to rip out his vocal cords. He didn't think once of Serenity's well-being, only his own skin.

My fingers tingled as I focused on him, trying to use compulsion to get what I wanted. Surprisingly, instead of his mind bending to my will, it was like my mind hit a solid wall. My body jerked back as if pushed by an invisible force, and I released him. He landed on the floor with a splat, moaning, groaning, and sputtering.

Confusion and fear flooded through me—why wasn't my compulsion working? This had never happened to me before.

As I stood there, trying to shake off the mysterious spell that had rendered me powerless, my mind raced through the list of vampires who could possibly be behind it. There weren't many that were strong enough—The Fondatori Kings, Dracula of course, maybe Anton Lange from Legacy Academy. But this felt different, more like dark magic than another vampire.

My thoughts turned to Simon's witch, Marsha, when I noticed her distinct scent of herbs and incense lingering in the air, making my nose twitch in disgust. Where had she been when we attacked Ravenwood Estates? Had she cast a spell on me without me realizing it?