Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

S erenity

Balthazar escorted me down to our training center. I glanced at the doors as we passed and wondered if Steven or Louis—or both—were imprisoned here. Each door held secrets—and probably horrors I couldn’t imagine. The air grew colder with each step we took deeper into the plantation’s belly.

“We’re going to continue working on this healing power of yours.” Balthazar opened the door with an elegant twist of his wrist. “But today the subject won’t be me.” There was something close to glee in his tone that made my skin crawl.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I gazed into the room. A young woman was sprawled on the floor, lying in a puddle of blood. Her dark hair was matted with it, her skin so pale it was nearly translucent. One arm was stretching toward the door, as if she’d been trying to crawl to freedom. She wasn’t more than twenty, wearing a torn sundress that might have once been yellow. Her chest barely moved with shallow breaths, each one a desperate fight to stay alive.

I looked at Balthazar in horror. “What did you do to her?”

“She’s not dead.” His voice was casual, like we were discussing the weather. “But she’s close. Most of her blood has been drained.” He stepped nearer, his breath cold against my ear. “It’s a test. Save her, and you prove your worth. Fail...” He let the threat hang over me like a knife suspended on a thread.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from her face. There was something familiar about her features—she reminded me of Joy DuPont. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s friend. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists.

“You’re a monster. Did you do this? If you didn’t, was it Petar?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Petar was the only vampire I knew who had turned traitor and chosen to ally with the wolves.

Balthazar leaned closer, and I fought the urge to step back. Being so near a demon made my skin prickle with warning. “Are you quite sure Petar’s the only traitor in Angelo’s little family?”

Horror struck my heart like ice water. “There’s more?” I could hear the desperation in my own voice, hated it, but couldn’t hide it. Not when Angelo’s safety hung in the balance.

“You’ll learn the truth soon enough. Now: let’s proceed with our lesson.” He gestured casually to the girl as if she was a mannequin rather than a human being, his dismissal of life more terrifying than any show of cruelty.

I stormed past him and rushed over to kneel next to her. Her chest slowly rose, as if she was fighting for every breath. Her lips were crusted with blood, telling their own horror story. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” I stroked her hair and glanced up at Balthazar. “If I save her, will you promise not to kill her?”

“Kill her?” His smile was both beautiful and terrible as he gazed down at her without the slightest bit of compassion. “No. That’s not my intention.”

All I had seen in this place was pain and torture. At least, that’s what Gage had shown me in the mirror. The distant, vacant look in Louis’ eyes haunted me, and Steve DuPont—once so strong and defiant—now flinched at mere shadows. Whatever they’d done to shatter my friends’ minds, I couldn’t let them do the same to her. The young woman lay crumpled at our feet, her dark hair spread around her like spilled ink, chest barely moving.

“If I save her”…my voice came out steadier than I felt…“what are you going to do to her, then?”

He reached down and brushed her pale cheek. “You ask too many questions. Heal her and let me worry about the rest.”

A chill settled in my heart. The same cold smile he wore now—had Louis and Steve seen it before their minds shattered?

“Heal her like I taught you yesterday.” I suspected if I didn’t, he’d kill her—and make me watch.

I placed my hands over her heart, feeling it flutter weakly. Balthazar’s cold energy pressed against me, urging me to force the healing. But Angelo’s words from my dream echoed: Remember who you are. Your power comes from love and the desire to heal—not control.

Balthazar was circling us like a shark, his shadow falling over me as he watched. His presence felt like cruel fingers trying to pull me deeper into the darkness. “Take control,” he whispered urgently. “Command her body to heal. Make it yours.”

I thought back to how gently I’d healed Enzo. That power had flowed from love, not force. I closed my eyes, trying to find balance between what Balthazar demanded and what I knew in my heart to be right. I might have to reach into the darkness, but that didn’t mean I had to surrender myself to it.

Tingling sensations moved over my palms, cold and demanding. I kept my eyes closed, focusing entirely on the feel of my power as it swirled around my fingers like ice water. Balthazar made a small sound of approval, but I wasn’t done. Beneath that freezing energy, I let my own power rise up, warm and golden. Not fighting the darkness—transforming it. Where Balthazar’s power wanted to command, I used it to guide. Where it wanted to take, I taught it to give.

The two powers danced together beneath my skin. His ancient magic, heavy with the weight of centuries and countless battles, hungered to dominate, to bend, to break. I wouldn’t let it. Instead, I wove my warmth through his frost, turning harsh edges gentle, softening iron into silk. It was like teaching a savage lion to purr—dangerous but possible with the right touch.

The woman’s body arched slightly as the dual energies flowed into her. I could feel everything—each torn vessel, each dying cell. Balthazar had shown me how to sense these things. Now, instead of forcing them to obey, I encouraged them to heal.

I opened my eyes. The purple light sought out the damage while the gold followed. Warmth filled me and I pushed it toward the woman, wanting to erase all her pain, all her misery. Each broken place inside her called to me like fragments of a shattered mirror desperate to be whole again. With each pulse of healing, I felt her pain lessen, felt life strengthening where death had tried to take hold.

The need to help and to heal burned through me stronger than any magic. Whatever Balthazar ultimately intended for her, in this moment I could at least give her this gift—freedom from pain, a chance at wholeness.

“Come on,” I whispered to her, ignoring Balthazar’s looming presence. “You can do it.” I poured my love and strength into her, remembering every person I’d ever wanted to protect. This wasn’t just about power—it was about choice. Choosing to keep my soul while walking through shadow.

I felt Balthazar’s tension growing behind me. This wasn’t exactly what he’d taught me, but he couldn’t deny it was working. The woman’s breathing deepened, color returning to her cheeks. My way wasn’t as fast as his, but it was just as strong—and it left no scars on my soul.

The light came back into the woman’s eyes, replacing that terrible emptiness. I smiled at her, wishing I could promise her safety in this hell. “Do you feel better?”

“Don’t let him hurt me again,” she whimpered, her fingers digging into my arm. The terror in her voice made my heart clench.

Balthazar clicked his tongue, the sound sharp as a blade. “You enjoyed it well enough before it became a little rough.” The woman shrank against me.

I helped her sit up, my arms shaking with exhaustion. “I won’t.” My promise to her felt hollow—I didn’t have the slightest idea how to protect her, especially now that every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

“You’re bleeding,” she gasped, her eyes wide with concern. Even after everything she’d been through, she was worried about me.

I touched my nose, and my fingers came away red. “Yes. Sometimes that happens when I heal.”

“That’s a sign of weakness,” Balthazar sneered. “Something we need to work on.” He moved closer, his shadow falling over us both. It was clear this lesson was far from over.

I looked at the woman, trying to offer what little comfort I could. “What’s your name?”

“Her name is Shannon Bayer. She’s a waitress at Crimson Stakes,” Balthazar answered, his voice darkly amused.

Oh, god. Angelo was being set up again. Another girl connected to him, another victim to strengthen the police’s suspicions. All those women and now this one—all leading back to Angelo.

Maybe Balthazar had something to do with Joy’s disappearance too.

The demon shoved me away with supernatural strength, sending me sprawling on the blood-slicked floor. Before I could even cry out, he lunged at Shannon with inhuman speed, his movement a blur of deadly grace.

“No!” she screamed, trying to scramble away, her newly healed body betraying her with weakness. The sound was pure terror, echoing off the walls like a death knell.

Balthazar easily caught her, his fingers leaving new bruises on her pale skin. His beautiful face transformed into something terrible. Fangs descended where there had been none before, longer and more vicious than any vampire’s I’d ever seen. He bit into her throat savagely, drinking the blood I’d just restored to her veins. The wet, grotesque sound of his ravenous feeding, nothing like Angelo’s controlled bites, turned my stomach.

“No, no, no,” I cried as I beat weakly on his back. Each blow was like hitting marble. My knuckles split, adding my blood to the horror around us. Tears streamed down my face as I watched all my healing work undone in seconds.

The woman stopped struggling, her eyes rolling back as her body went limp. He dropped her on the floor like discarded trash, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles, her breathing shallow again. When he turned to me, his face was a mask of blood, his smile crimson and cruel. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees, bile rising in my throat.

He wiped the blood away with elegant fingers, examining the red stains like an art critic studying a masterpiece. “Delicious. Heal her again.”

“You’re a vampire?” My voice was a broken whisper. But even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t quite right. He was something else, something even worse. The darkness rolling off him made my angelic blood scream.

“I can be anything I want, Serenity.” His eyes gleamed with ancient malice, shifting from demonic black to vampire red and back again. The sight made my head spin. “Now—heal the bitch.”

It was like a light went on in my head, illuminating all the pieces I’d been too blind to see. Every murdered girl, every accusation, every suspicion from the police—it all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. “You... You’re the one who’s been murdering all these girls in New Orleans and pinning the killings on Angelo.”

“True.” His smile widened, showing teeth still stained with Shannon’s blood. “It’s working well. The police suspect him, the wolves circle closer, and his own kind begin to doubt. Even Gianna questions her brother now.” He ran a finger through the pool of blood spreading around Shannon’s body, drawing patterns like a child playing with finger paints. “The mighty Angelo Santi, brought low by dead prostitutes and cocktail waitresses. Who would have thought it.”

He gestured to Shannon’s crumpled form. “Now, heal dear Shannon before she bleeds out. We have many more lessons ahead of us.” His eyes gleamed. “You, my sweet Nephilim, are going to help me destroy everything Angelo loves.”

The threat in his words made my soul shrink. What kind of monster had I been training with? What further horrors was he hiding behind that beautiful, terrible smile?

My heart screamed in my chest as I stared miserably at Shannon’s broken body. Angelo, please. I can’t do this alone. I can’t fight the darkness without you. The prayer came from deep within my soul, desperately reaching across the void between us.