Chapter 33

Chapter

Thirty-Three

A ngelo

I peered at St. Christopher’s Church from the shadows, Trystan and Keir flanking me. Three kings standing in the darkness together—if someone had told me a century ago I’d be working with a wolf and an Unseelie I’d have drained them dry for the insult. But here we were: Trystan, the wolf king of the French Quarter, his custom-made suit barely containing the beast that lurked beneath the polished exterior, and Keir, that dangerous bastard who ruled the Garden District with Unseelie tricks and ancient debts, toying with a gold coin like we were at one of his favorite gambling dens instead of facing war.

Every stained-glass window had been smashed out, leaving jagged teeth of colored glass in rotting wooden frames. Moss and vines crept up the gray stones like grasping fingers. It had been a beautiful church before Katrina, a place where the old families had made their deals and sworn their loyalties. I’d sealed more than a few blood oaths within its walls myself. Now it lay in ruins, just another fallen piece of our city.

The faces of the stone angels that guarded the entrance were eroded by the elements into hollow-eyed masks. A crow perched on one’s shoulder—not one of my spies. It made my fangs itch. The heavy wooden doors hung askew on rusted hinges, creaking softly in the night breeze.

Red light pulsed from within the building, seeping through the broken windows like fresh blood. Evil emanated from it like a beacon, an ancient darkness that made even my undead flesh crawl. Something was waiting inside those walls, something so evil that it had forced three kings to set aside years of blood feuds and territory wars.

A blur of motion caught my eye. Dimitri materialized at the crypt entrance, rage and bourbon rolling off him in waves. “Anybody order a slightly pissed-off vampire with a rescue plan? No? Just me then?”

“How did you get out?” Ice filled my voice. No one had ever escaped my interrogation room.

“Funny story, that.” Dimitri brushed imaginary dirt from his sleeve. “Turns out your guard thought I had calmed down and would be a good boy. Shame he’s really bad at holding his liquor. And his keys. And his consciousness.”

Fury exploded through me. In less than a heartbeat, I had him pinned against the crypt wall, my hand crushing his throat. The stone cracked behind him from the force. Decades of iron control threatened to shatter. Someone had betrayed me. Someone had failed in their duty. “Which. Guard.” Each word dripped with promised violence. The fool who had compromised my security would pray for death long before I granted it.

“What, and ruin the mystery?” Blood darkened the veins under his eyes. “Besides, we have more pressing matters. Like my brother being tortured while we stand around discussing your staff retention issues.”

I dragged him over to Enzo’s post at the Nightshade family crypt.

“Enzo.” I tightened my grip on Dimitri’s throat. “Chain him if he moves from this spot. And when we’re done here, I want to find out who helped him escape.”

Drawing on my vampire speed, I returned to where Trystan and Keir waited for me.

Trystan cocked an eyebrow. “Problems?”

“Nothing urgent.” The lie tasted bitter. Three enemies moving against me at once, and now Dimitri losing control... I needed to end this quickly, before the situation with Serenity’s guard became another weak point Balthazar could exploit.

The door opened with a groan of rusty hinges. Louis DuPont stepped out holding onto a blond woman’s arm, his movements still unnatural and puppet-like. I detected the evil rotting inside him, and even from here, I could see the things moving beneath his skin. What once had been an honest cop now housed something ancient and dark. The man was gone—hopefully to a better place.

The woman’s hands were bound behind her back with what looked like spelled rope. Another one of Balthazar’s victims? When the fading moon caught the side of her face, my undead heart actually skipped. I recognized her. Rose Dragan—Dimitri’s sister-in-law. Part vampire, part witch, and heir to one of the most dangerous magical legacies in New Orleans. She was from the Nightshade family, and I knew exactly where she was being taken: to the crypt that held centuries of dark artifacts her ancestors had collected.

Valentin had to be inside. The thought of what they might be doing to Rose’s mate made my fangs itch. A witch-vampire hybrid was powerful, but with the right leverage, even the strongest supernatural could break.

Gage emerged from the church’s shadow with two men I didn’t recognize. Their movements were definitely not human, but they didn’t carry the signature tell of any supernatural race I knew. More of Balthazar’s black-eyed puppets, perhaps.

Beside me, Trystan released a low growl, the sound carrying centuries of wolf-king authority, but didn’t move, even though the moon had not set and it was still his time of power. Good. We couldn’t afford to act too soon, not with what was at stake.

Two harpies glided down from the dark sky and landed on a nearby oak tree, their razor-sharp talons digging into the branches. Spanish moss swayed around them like funeral shrouds. I glanced at Keir. His Unseelie spies had positioned themselves perfectly—another advantage Balthazar didn’t know we had. The Garden District king’s intelligence network was unmatched, even by my own.

Enzo had the strength and experience to handle Dimitri if he snapped. More importantly, he knew how family could make even the most controlled vampires dangerous. He’d follow my orders without hesitation—even if that meant putting Dimitri down temporarily.

Their assignment was simple: extract information from anyone approaching the crypt. Balthazar hadn’t chosen this location by chance. Something in that crypt was valuable enough to draw a demon prince to risk war with three supernatural crime families. Whatever secrets the Nightshade family had buried there, I needed to find them out before Balthazar did.

Keir glanced at Trystan. “Bring your wolves in closer. They need to sniff out more of the rebel wolves.” The Unseelie’s king’s golden coin disappeared into his pocket—when he got serious, the games stopped.

“They need me to lead them,” Trystan mumbled as he tore off his suit. His eyes were locked on Gage who stood on the steps, his hatred for the traitor wolf evident. “We won’t attack until we get the signal.”

Keir put his hand on my shoulder. “Time for you to find out what’s happening inside that church.”

My transformation into a bat was almost instantaneous, a fluid change of form perfected over the centuries. I soared through the night air, wings cutting silently through the cool breeze. Yet even before the silhouette of the church appeared, a disturbing wave of evil brushed against my senses, cold and foreboding.

A malign presence emanated from the church, invisible yet powerful, intensifying as I drew closer. The once-sacred grounds now radiated dark energy so potent as to be almost visible in the moonlight, a shimmering haze of malevolence that writhed like serpents in the air. The gargoyles, ancient guardians meant to ward off creatures like me, sat silent and powerless, their stone faces twisted in eternal grimaces.

I hovered outside the window with its saints and demons captured in broken stained glass. The fractured imagery mirrored the disturbed aura I felt—saints disrupted, demons intact, foreshadowing the corruption within. Through the shattered panes, moonlight split into prismatic shards, casting blood-red and midnight-blue shadows across the nave below. The air itself pulsed with unholy energy, each wave making my heightened senses recoil.

Tension curled within me, every instinct honed from uncounted past battles readying for what lay ahead. My unnaturally sharp senses dissected the layers of darkness emanating from within: the acrid smell of burnt offerings, the metallic tang of spilled blood, whispered echoes of forbidden incantations that still lingered. As I perched on the edge of the window’s jagged frame, preparing to enter, I drew in the night air, thick with the stench of evil. It fortified me, fueling the ancient power that coursed through my veins that had seen me through centuries of confronting such abominations.

The cross above the altar hung upside down, its sacred power perverted into a beacon for the darkness. Below it, shadows danced and twisted in unnatural ways, suggesting movement where there should be none. Something was waiting in that darkness, something that had corrupted this holy place for its own nefarious purposes.

I embraced the shadows, letting them envelop me as my ally in the impending battle. I had walked on the edge of the line between light and darkness for centuries—neither fully of the night nor welcomed by the day. Tonight, that unique position would serve me well as I cleansed this desecrated ground.

Inside, the red glow pulsed stronger. It came from bowls placed in a five-point star pattern around the altar, each filled with something that moved and writhed. The glow painted everything in shades of crimson, making the church look like a butcher’s chapel. The air itself felt thick, tasting of copper and decay.

Balthazar and Petar stood near the altar, their shadows twisting on the walls, but it was the third, hooded figure that drew my attention. His presence carried an ancient weight that made even my blood run cold. His hands were marked with symbols that appeared to crawl across his skin like living things, disappearing under his sleeves only to emerge again at his neck—old, old magic that predated my own turning. Something about his movements felt familiar, though I couldn’t place why. Each gesture was controlled, perfect, like a teacher demonstrating proper form.

It was just as a well I had left Dimitri at the crypt with Enzo. Valentin was stretched out on the altar, his arms and legs spread wide and bound with chains that glowed with spelled metal. If Dimitri saw his brother like this, displayed like a sacrificial lamb on a slab, he’d lose his mind.

Blood already stained Valentin’s shirt, and symbols had been carved into his chest, still wet and gleaming. He wasn’t just a hostage anymore. From the positioning of the altar in relation to those three crypts outside, I could tell this wasn’t just about accessing the Nightshade vault. This was bigger. They were going to use whatever was in that crypt here and now, using Valentin’s blood and Rose’s power as the keys.

Then I felt it. A presence that shouldn’t be here, one that made my entire body go rigid. No. Impossible. She was supposed to be safe in a guest bedroom, surrounded by my wards, with Luigi…

But pain slammed in my skull.

Serenity.

Her thoughts hammered in my head like gunfire, each word laced with panic and determination.

Angelo, I’m coming. Please don’t be angry. Gianna’s bringing me to the Nightshade crypt. I can’t let you die.

She was moving through the shadows straight into whatever trap Balthazar had set. All my carefully laid plans, all my precautions—shattered. Fear clawed through my chest, followed by a rage so intense it nearly made me shift back to human form mid-flight. Damn Luigi. He’d had one job. One!

Gianna’s involvement was something else entirely. She wasn’t betraying me—she was protecting her mate. Dimitri’s control was already fracturing over worry for his brother. Of course she’d come. And of course she’d bring Serenity, who never could stand idly by when someone she loved was in danger.

Focus. I forced the fury down, cold logic taking over. I couldn’t maintain surveillance now—not with Serenity walking into the middle of this power play. But charging in would alert Balthazar to her presence. If he didn’t already know. And that hooded figure... Something about his presence set off ancient warnings in my blood. The way he moved, the symbols on his arms that spoke of power older than my own—he was the wild card I couldn’t predict.

I banked left, keeping to the shadows cast by the broken spire. We had three minutes, tops, before chaos erupted. Our original plan now lay in tatters. With Keir’s harpies tasked to surveil the church, it was up to me to intercept Serenity. I signaled Keir with two quick flaps of my right wing, a pre-arranged signal for heightened vigilance.

Time was critical. I needed to reach Serenity before she approached the crypt and Dimitri saw her. Even with Gianna there to calm him, Serenity’s appearance risked driving him to the brink. He would see Serenity as a means to an end—namely, finding his brother. His instinct to protect Valentin would kick in, blinding him to all else, jeopardizing our chance to uncover what Balthazar truly sought from the crypt.

Above all else we couldn’t disrupt the ritual circle they’d carved into the floor. Whatever they were planning to pull through that gateway, containing it would be impossible once it emerged. The symbols were too perfect, too carefully placed. This wasn’t just about power—it was about punishment. About teaching someone a lesson.

No way would Serenity become part of his curriculum.