Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Enzo
I looked one more time at the St. Louis Cathedral, analyzing the risk. What if I left and Joy somehow found her way back? At the thought of missing her because I’d chosen wrong, my chest tightened with regret.
Angelo clasped my shoulder. “We need to go if you want to save Joy.”
“And Valentin,” Dimitri added sharply. “We’re not doing them any good standing here staring at those damn vines.”
Nyx held his chin up high and pride shone in his eyes. “My father will return with the blood. I promise.”
Keir gave him a sad look. “We have no guarantees. Your father and your harpies are brave and determined, but we don’t even know if Hades will allow them into the Underworld. If there’s a chance we can get the blood from Killian, we have to take it.”
Tinker Bell, Alice, and Lorcan nodded their agreement. I gave a sharp nod. Like always, I had to make the hard call.
Angelo, Dimitri, and I shifted into bats and took flight. With each mile that carried me away from the bayou, my instincts warred against the logic. Every part of my training said never leave your position, but every part of me that loved Joy demanded action.
When we reached the airport, Angelo’s private jet was waiting on the tarmac, engines already running. We landed on the concrete beside the aircraft and shifted back to human form, bypassing the terminal entirely.
I’d screwed up. I knew it instantly—I should be back at the cathedral, ready to act the moment those vines came down. If they came down. I'd felt their strength firsthand, felt them constrict and drain. Tinker Bell and Alice couldn't break through them, even working together.
Without that spell, without the royal blood, those vines weren't going anywhere. And neither was I. We needed Killian's cooperation, which meant I was exactly where I had to be—even if every instinct screamed otherwise.
Pascal opened the door. “Boss, ready when you are.”
“Good,” Angelo said as he headed to the mahogany bar that dominated one side of the cabin, its crystal decanters catching the amber lighting. “Then contact the tower and tell them we’re headed to Vail.”
Pascal nodded. “Yes, sir, and I’m heading back to the cockpit.”
Angelo took out a bottle of Chosen Blood behind the bar and glanced at me. “It looks like you could use a drink.”
“I don’t know about him,” Dimitri said as he leaned on the counter, “but I could definitely use one.”
“Give me a glass.” I sat on the black leather bar stool and drummed my fingers on the marble counter. “You think Stefan is going to just hand over Kara and Killian? He’s not known just to release prisoners without consulting the supernatural council.”
Angelo poured me a glass. “He owes me.”
Dimitri slid into a seat next to me and flashed me a dark smile. “Please. The Santis don’t give a damn about the council’s rules. Never have.”
“But we can’t afford a war right now,” I said. If a war broke out, the supernaturals would shut down any portals to the Elder Dimension—cut off all access to prevent more threats. Joy would be trapped there forever. I couldn’t let that happen.
“We might not have to take Kara and Killian out of the Hollows,” Angelo said as he took a sip of Chosen Blood. “We can interrogate them there. That way Stefan isn’t breaking any rules.”
“That’s true.” I should have seen that myself. Angelo was thinking like an enforcer while I was acting like a desperate fool. Grateful as I was for his clear head, the fact that I needed it grated.
I picked up my glass. My fangs lengthened at the intoxicating scent—rich copper with an underlying sweetness that made my dead veins sing. I drained the Chosen Blood in one pull, feeling strength flood back into my limbs.
Angelo’s phone rang. “Yeah, Keir.” His eyes locked with mine as he listened, and I could see something shift in his expression. Whatever it was looked like good news. God knows I could use some. “Good to know. I’ll tell him.” He slipped his phone back into his jacket.
Please give me some fucking good news.
“What did he want?” The words came out sharper than I intended.
“Morden contacted Keir.”
“Then he has the blood?”
Angelo shook his head. “No. Hades refused. He’s on his way back.”
“Damn it,” I snapped.
“Keir also said Morden has the ability to control shadows like Joy does.”
My heart stopped. Another shadow wielder—someone with the same power as Joy. Hope and dread warred in my chest as the implications hit me. “Can he open the portal?”
Angelo shook his head. “No. He needs magic to help with the shadows. Our only chance is to get Killian’s blood to destroy the wards protecting the cathedral.”
I dragged my fingers through my hair. Patience was wearing thin and I was about to go crazy in the plane.
Pascal announced. “We’re preparing for takeoff. Please take your seats. It will be approximately three hours to Vail.”
Angelo poured me a straight bourbon. “You’re going to need to relax, Enzo. You’re the calm one.” He grinned. “I’m the unreasonable one.”
“Not anymore I’m not,” I mumbled.
“Good.” Dimitri clapped me on my stiff shoulder. “About time you stopped being so noble all the time. Welcome to the dark side, Enzo.” He clinked his glass against mine. “We have better bourbon.”
Getting drunk was tempting, but I had to draw on my wits. Joy was depending on me.
I took the glass and moved to one of the burgundy executive recliners, setting my drink on the built-in tray. Angelo settled into the chair across from me while Dimitri dropped into the one beside me, bourbon bottle in hand.
He winked. “One drink isn’t going to cut it, brother.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but who was I kidding? I doubted the whole damn bottle would calm my nerves. Maybe I should have flown to Vail as a bat. At least I’d be doing something instead of sitting still in this fancy cylinder.
The engines roared to life, their vibration thrumming through the leather seats as the jet picked up speed.
We raced down the runway toward the darkening sky, the aircraft’s nose lifting as we climbed into the evening air.
Below us, the sun was sinking into the mighty Mississippi, painting the water gold and crimson—a beautiful sight that was like mockery when Joy was trapped in some hellish dimension.
I pressed my face to the tinted window, watching New Orleans shrink beneath us.
Somewhere down there, Keir and the others were still camped outside St. Louis Cathedral, waiting for us to return with the royal blood that would break those vines.
Keir wouldn’t abandon his post—he had too much at stake.
Opening the portal would put his own family at risk.
They had fled the supernatural war when their side was losing, and Keir had always been about survival.
Returning to the Elder Dimension wasn’t on his agenda—especially since he and the others would be branded as traitors and most likely executed on sight.
He had as much at stake as the rest of us if the Unseelie weren’t kept from invading our realm.
I drained my glass as the city lights grew smaller below us, each one taking me farther from Joy. The smooth liquid rolled down my throat but did nothing to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders. As if sensing my distress, Dimitri immediately refilled my glass.
“Hey, we’re going to get them back. Both of them. I’m not losing my brother, and you’re not losing Joy.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I needed to believe him. But hope felt dangerous right now—like setting myself up for devastation if this went wrong. "Yeah," I said, voice rough. "We will."
“It’s time to see if Stefan Gabor will play nice.” Angelo pulled out his phone. “Stefan, Angelo Santi.” He caught my eye as he waited for a response. “Yeah, it’s been a while. We have trouble in New Orleans. Portal trouble.”
I sucked back my drink as Angelo explained to Stefan what was happening. Dimitri finished off his glass, fidgeting in his seat. Nervous energy rolled off him in waves. His fingers drummed against his thigh, jaw tight.
Surprisingly, Angelo remained calm and diplomatic. He could play nice when he wanted to, as long as he got what he wanted. “There’s a spell we need to break through some wards and we need blood from one of your prisoners—Killian Cormac.”
I swirled the ice in my empty glass as I drummed my fingers on the armrest. I could only hear Angelo’s side of the conversation, but the pauses told me Stefan was asking questions.
“No, he has to give it willingly or the spell won’t work. How close is he to Kara Khan?”
Angelo’s tone sounded so innocent, but the implication was far from it.
“I know she’s his mate. How far would he go to protect her?”
I didn’t know Killian Cormac and didn’t know how much he loved Kara.
I just knew the three vampires sitting here would move heaven and earth to protect their mates.
Hell, I was about to become living proof of that.
There wasn’t a line I wouldn’t cross, wasn’t a moral boundary I wouldn’t shatter if it meant getting Joy back.
Killian would understand, even if he’d hate us for it.
Angelo’s eyes narrowed. Not a good sign. “I see. Stefan, you owe me, and I’m calling in my chips.” The threat was there. If Stefan didn’t do what Angelo wanted, he would regret it. Reapers didn’t scare Angelo.
“If you don’t want me to interrogate Kara and Killian at the Hollows, then I’ll take them with me.”
Damn it. I could hear the resistance in Stefan's voice even from here. This was going to take longer than we'd planned. Nothing was ever straightforward when politics got involved.
Angelo’s eyebrow shot up. “If you insist.” He shrugged. “That works for me. Have them ready in three hours.”
He hung up the phone and his expression shifted to one of forced calm when he looked at me, as if trying to keep me grounded. “Stefan has a condition for us taking Kara and Killian from the Hollows.”
Something in his tone made every nerve inside me tense. “What?”
“He’s insisting that Anton Lange accompany Kara and Killian.”
“Fuck.” I slammed my fist on the armrest. “Anton will never allow us to interrogate them to get what we want.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Angelo said as he leaned back in his chair with his smug mob boss look. “The last thing the head of the council and headmaster of Legacy Academy wants is for that portal to open. He might just let us do whatever we want.”
“Or he’ll try to find some noble, by-the-book solution that gets everyone killed,” Dimitri said grimly. “But you’re right about one thing—he can’t afford to let that portal open. Not with Valentin and the others trapped on this side.”
I stared out the window as my hope died. Dracula made both Anton and Angelo, but they were two sides of the same coin. Anton was loyal to Dracula and followed his rules, never draining people, while Angelo and the rest of the Santi family were everything Dracula despised.
Anton was the hero in the story while we were the villains. I didn’t see him standing by while we tortured a woman to get what we wanted from her mate. Our plan went up in smoke before it had even begun.