Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Enzo
I slammed into the scorched earth like a meteor, the impact driving every molecule of air from my tiny lungs. The sickening crack of bones snapping echoed through my skull—ribs, maybe my wing—as agony exploded through my bat form in white-hot waves.
I tumbled across the ash-covered ground, my broken body rolling helplessly until I crashed into the massive trunk of a burned cypress. The charred bark scraped against my fur, leaving me sprawled in a pitiful heap among the smoldering debris.
Anguish was a fucking understatement.
Each breath was like swallowing glass. I tried desperately to shift back to human form, reaching for that familiar pull of transformation, but it was as if someone had drained every drop of power from my veins.
The magic that should have coursed through me felt like a dried riverbed—empty, lifeless.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Panic clawed at what was left of my consciousness as footsteps approached through the ash. Heavy boots crunched on debris, growing closer. Marsha’s men. They’d find me broken and helpless, finish what the fall had started.
“Enzo?”
That voice—sharp, commanding, unmistakable. Relief and dread warred in my chest.
I forced my head up, every movement sending fresh spikes of agony through my shattered form, and stared into Angelo’s eyes. They were wide with concern, searching my face like he was trying to assess just how bad it was.
Raindrops beaded on his eyelashes. The rain pelted his hair to his cheeks and dripped off his nose. We’d been like brothers for over two centuries. He knew exactly what I looked like in this form, had seen me shift during countless business dealings and territorial disputes.
Maybe—just maybe—not all of my luck had run out.
“Who did this to you?” Angelo crouched down, studying my broken form as anger flashed into his eyes. He scooped me up and held me gently next to his chest. I squeaked as pain ravaged my body.
The world blurred into a kaleidoscope of rain and shadow as Angelo’s powerful strides carried us deeper into the devastated bayou. Each jarring step sent fresh waves of agony through my broken bones, but I bit back any sounds of pain. Angelo was risking his own safety to save me.
His feet made wet, sucking sounds as they sank into the waterlogged earth with every stride.
Squish. Squish. Squish. The rhythm became hypnotic, almost comforting, as rain continued to pelt down on us in relentless sheets.
I could feel the water soaking through Angelo’s shirt where he held me against his chest, turning the fabric cold and clingy.
The acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air despite the downpour, mixing with the rich, earthy scent of wet soil and rotting vegetation.
Occasionally Angelo would leap over a fallen, charred log or splash through a puddle, and I’d catch glimpses of the fire’s aftermath—blackened tree trunks reaching toward the gray sky like skeletal fingers, steam rising from smoldering debris.
My vision kept sliding in and out of focus.
One moment I could see the burned cypress branches whipping past us, the next everything would fade to black as unconsciousness tried to claim me.
Angelo’s steady heartbeat against my tiny body became an anchor, the only constant in a world that kept tilting sideways.
Stay awake, I told myself desperately. Stay conscious. But my eyelids were like lead weights, and the combination of pain, exhaustion, and blood loss was winning the battle.
The last thing I registered before darkness took me was Angelo’s voice, low and fierce. “Hold on, brother. We’re almost there.”
Someone’s fingers moved through the delicate fur along my head with infinite tenderness, each stroke sending waves of comfort through my body. “Enzo, can you shift?” The voice was soft as silk, familiar as my own heartbeat.
God, where was I?
My consciousness floated back like a tide returning to shore.
I was lying on something soft—high-quality sheets, the kind I was accustomed to sleeping on.
The scents that surrounded me were familiar: leather, polished mahogany, and the faint trace of Serenity’s signature perfume—lavender and vanilla.
I forced my eyes open and found myself staring into Serenity’s concerned blue eyes. Her perfectly manicured fingers dabbed at my forehead with a cool cloth, gentle and careful. The crushing agony from my fall—the broken bones, the searing pain—it was all gone.
How? My last clear memory was crashing into that burned cypress, every bone in my body shattered. Now I was… whole. But I was still trapped in this small, vulnerable bat form.
Then I remembered.
Shit. Joy. She needed me.
Panic surged through me as I immediately forced the shift, my bones stretching and expanding until I was human again. I found myself sprawled across silk sheets on a king-sized bed, my ruined suit hanging off me in tatters. The entire room swayed in a gentle, rhythmic motion that made my head spin.
Where the hell am I?
My vision was still hazy, unfocused, as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Rich mahogany gleamed in the soft light, and crystal glinted from somewhere across the room. The swaying motion was familiar, soothing in a way that tugged at my memory, but my thoughts were as thick as molasses.
Then my eyes focused on the nightstand beside the bed—my nightstand. The same crystal tumbler I always kept there, the leather-bound journal I’d been writing in for decades. My gaze swept the room more carefully now, recognition dawning like sunrise through fog.
The Italian leather chair by the windows. My collection of rare whiskey displayed on those crystal shelves. The built-in bookshelves lined with volumes I’d accumulated over centuries.
Christ. I was on the Sangue Reale.
My stomach lurched with the movement. “Serenity?” My voice came out hoarse, confused.
“I’m here.” Her cool hand found mine, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. “You’re on board the Sangue Reale.”
“How did I get here? What happened?”
The door creaked open and Angelo appeared, his tall frame filling the doorway. He adjusted his red tie—he’d changed out of his blood-stained suit into a fresh new one, crisp and immaculate as always. “Serenity healed you, Enzo. You don’t remember?”
I rubbed my forehead. “No.” My mind was like Swiss cheese.
Serenity squeezed my hand. “That’s good. It wasn’t…pleasant.”
“For you?” I glanced warily at Angelo. He’d tear me apart if anything happened to her.
She clasped my chin, forcing me to look at her and smiled. “No, not me. You.”
I scrubbed my face, still trying to clear my mind. “How long have I been out?”
“About five hours.”
“Shit.” Panic shot through me like ice water. “I’ve got to get back to Joy.” I pushed against the bed, but my arms quivered and collapsed. I didn’t even know where to start looking.
“You need blood,” Angelo said as he rolled up his sleeve.
The pulse in his wrist called to me—steady, strong, alive.
He stretched out along the couch, one arm draped over the carved armrest, the other extended toward me. The houseboat slowly rocked back and forth, water lapping against the sides.
Come on,” he murmured, wrist turned up, exposing the vulnerable skin where his life thrummed beneath the surface. “You need this.”
My fangs ached as they descended. I didn’t hesitate.
The puncture was swift, clean. His sharp intake of breath dissolved into a low sigh of satisfaction as I sealed my mouth over the wounds. The first taste hit me like lightning—rich, warm, alive. It flowed down my throat in steady pulls, each swallow sending fire through my veins.
His free hand found my shoulder, fingers tightening as I fed. Not pushing away, but anchoring. Encouraging.
The blood didn’t just fill me—it transformed me. My vision crystallized until I could see the deep, rich wooden beams on the houseboat.
Strength flooded back into limbs that had felt leaden moments before. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough..
My fangs sank deeper. The hollow ache in my chest demanded more; Joy’s terrified face flashing behind my eyelids.
I pulled harder, desperate to drain every drop that would give me the power to go into the Elder Dimension and bring her back.
Blood escaped the seal of my lips, trailing warm and copper-sweet down my chin.
His muscles tensed beneath my grip.
“Enough.” He yanked his wrist back, skin tearing slightly as my fangs released.
“Stop.”
His words echoed in my mind and I winced, allowing him to break free.
I sat back, panting, and wiped the crimson from my chin with my sleeve. “I’ve got to get back to the cathedral.”
Angelo studied me as I sat up, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that made me want to look away. He was cataloging every weakness, every sign I wasn’t ready for this. But I held his stare, refusing to back down.
“What do you propose to do?”
I met his gaze. “What else? Go through the Elder Dimension.” I kept my voice steady despite the doubt I saw flickering in his expression. “I’ll force Marsha to open a portal. She got Joy in—she can get me in.”
“She didn’t get Joy in. She and Joy opened the portal together. You don’t know what’s waiting for you down there,” he said.
I chuckled bitterly. “Did you know what was waiting for you in hell when you went after Serenity?”
“If we go—”
“You’re coming with me?” I kept my expression neutral, but something eased in my chest. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but having Angelo at my side changed everything. Getting Joy back became more than a possibility.
“You think you can take on the Elder Dimension by yourself?” Angelo raised an eyebrow, the hint of amusement in his voice taking the edge off the words. “Do you even know how to open the portal?”
“No,” I said bitterly. “You didn’t know how to get into hell.”
“True, but Dracula did.”
“I’ve got to try, Angelo. We can get Marsha to talk.” It wouldn’t be pleasant, but there were ways to make a witch talk. Torture wasn’t off the table—not when Joy’s life hung in the balance.
Angelo crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I know. But if we go barging in there, we’ll end up captured or dead.”
Here was an interesting turn of events. Angelo being calm and I was on the brink of losing my mind again.
But he had a point. Marsha was cunning, and torture didn’t always work on witches—especially ones who’d aligned themselves with Dark Demons.
She might let us kill her before she talked.
Or worse, she’d lie and send us into a trap.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the houseboat’s gentle sway. “We have to find Keir. He might know how.”
Angelo folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Not without the Anchoring Obsidian stone.” His jaw tightened. “And we both know who has it.”
“We know Ari has it.” His name left a foul taste in my mouth. I’d been right there in that torture chamber, and I’d missed it—never saw where he kept it, missed the one thing that could have prevented all of this. “Perhaps it’s still inside the cathedral.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “You saw it when you were inside?”
I shook my head. “No, but if anyone would know where it was, Marsha would. Though she could lead us into a trap.”
“Most likely.” Angelo’s smile turned deadly. “But there are ways to avoid dark magic. A lesson Marsha will soon learn. Let’s pay that evil bitch a visit.”
Serenity shifted uncomfortably on the other couch across the room. “Angelo, she’s not exactly defenseless. Marsha’s power—”
“Is formidable,” Angelo finished. “But Alice was Tinker Bell’s protégé. I’d wager she can handle one vindictive witch.”
Serenity looked between us. “And if she can’t?”
I stood, testing my newly strengthened legs. They held steady. “Then she buys us enough time to subdue Marsha and make her talk.”
The plan was dangerous, but right now it was the only one we had.