Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Serenity
The baby kicked my ribs hard, as if she was afraid—or maybe she wanted to come out now, to escape before Vex could find her. I wasn't due for another week, but I couldn't stop shaking.
A two-year-old. Drained completely.
Three layers of wards. He walked right through them.
He prefers the blood of children. Powerful children.
Wherever he goes, vegetation dies.
The words from both phone calls—Trystan's and Keir's—kept replaying in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
I lived surrounded by vampires. Angelo's men were predators, dangerous and deadly. They'd killed, fought wars, spilled blood across centuries. They were many terrifying things.
I couldn’t imagine any of them murdering a helpless baby.
But this demon had.
He'd murdered that little girl—drained her completely—then discarded her like trash. All to perfect the ritual he'd use on my daughter.
And the witches who'd protected her, the Shadowfen Coven—their powerful wards hadn't even slowed him down.
And Tinker Bell, the witch who'd warded our house, who'd promised no demon could get through—she wasn't even here. She was in Salem, hours away, giving a lecture at Goody Magic Academy while a demon who could shatter the strongest wards was hunting for my baby.
I pressed both hands against my belly, trying to stop the trembling, trying to protect my daughter from words that had already been spoken, from threats that were already closing in around us.
Prudence's hand covered mine, warm and steady against my trembling fingers. "Serenity, you don't look well. I think you need to rest. This much stress isn't good for you or the baby."
"I completely agree," Angelo said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He crossed to me in three long strides, his expression tight with worry. "You're going upstairs. Now."
"No, I'm fine." But it was a lie, and we all knew it. I was far from being okay. Knowing the truth hadn't made me feel better—it had only amped up my fear to unbearable levels. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. My heart was racing so fast I felt dizzy.
"You're not fine," Angelo said firmly. Before I could protest, he lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest despite my swollen belly. "You need rest. You need to calm down before—"
Before I went into labor from stress. He didn't say it, but I heard it anyway.
"I don't want to be alone," I whispered. The thought of lying in that bedroom by myself, with only my terror for company, was unbearable.
"You won't be." His arms tightened around me protectively. "I'll be with you, guarding you this time. I'm not leaving your side."
Some of the tension drained from my body. The warmth of him, the solid strength—it helped. Not completely, but enough to let me breathe a little easier.
"I'll make a calming tea," Prudence offered, rising from the couch. "Something to help you rest, settle your nerves. You need to stay calm for the baby."
I reached out from Angelo's arms and clasped her hand, grateful for her help, for her calm competence in this nightmare. "Thank you, Prudence. Thank you for everything."
I leaned my head against Angelo's chest as he carried me up the stairs, feeling the chill of him against my overheated face. "You won't let anything happen to our daughter, will you?"
"You and our daughter are the most important people in my life. I would burn the world down before I let anyone hurt either of you." His voice rumbled through his chest, certain and absolute.
He carried me into our bedroom and laid me gently on the bed. I scooted up against the headboard, pulling a pillow to support my aching back. "You promise you won't leave? Not even for a minute?"
His lips brushed against my slick forehead, tender despite the fear coursing through both of us. "You know I won't. Rest, tesoro. Just rest. I'll be right here."
He settled beside me on the bed, pulling me carefully into his arms, one hand resting protectively over my belly. I closed my eyes, sighing against his strength, letting myself feel protected even as fear still coiled in my gut.
Soft footsteps entered the room moments later. "Here we go."
I opened my eyes. Prudence stood in the doorway holding a steaming cup, the scent of mint filling the air.
"Is that peppermint tea?" I asked, my eyelids already dropping.
"Yes, with some other herbs to help you feel better. Chamomile, lavender, a touch of valerian root for calming." She crossed to the bed and handed me the cup, her smile warm and reassuring. "It should help settle your nerves and let you rest."
I brought the cup to my lips and sipped carefully.
The peppermint was strong, almost overpowering, and underneath it.
.. the tea was oddly sweet. Too sweet. As if she was trying to cover up something bitter that lurked beneath all that sugar and mint.
I could just barely taste it—something herbal and unpleasant that made my tongue tingle slightly.
"How does it taste?" Prudence asked, watching me closely.
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She’d gone to the trouble of making it for me. "It's good. A little too sweet."
She gave a small, apologetic smile. "Well, some of the herbs are quite bitter, so I had to add extra honey to make it palatable."
Angelo frowned, and before I could take another sip, he gently took the cup from my hands. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, his expression darkening.
"What herbs are bitter?" His voice was deceptively calm, but I could hear the edge beneath it.
I wanted to tell him to relax, that he was being paranoid. It was just tea. But the tension radiating from him made me stay quiet.
Prudence's smile faltered slightly. "Valerian root, primarily. And a bit of motherwort—it's perfectly safe for pregnancy, helps with anxiety and—"
"Motherwort." Angelo's eyes narrowed. "That's a strong herb. How much did you use?"
Prudence shrugged, her expression maddeningly calm. "Just enough to calm her nerves. She needs rest after all that stress. She should sleep now."
My eyelids became impossibly heavy, like weights were pulling them down.
I tried to force them open, tried to stay alert, but I couldn't fight it.
My limbs felt like lead, my thoughts turning slow and syrupy.
I leaned back against Angelo's tense, broad chest, barely registering how rigid he'd gone beneath me.
This wasn't normal tiredness. It felt like she'd given me anesthesia—that thick, drugged feeling of consciousness slipping away no matter how hard you fought.
"Serenity?" Angelo's voice sounded far away, alarm cutting through the haze. "Serenity, stay with me."
"I just need..." My words slurred together. "I just need to sleep..."
The baby kicked me hard in the side, a sharp jab as if trying to wake me up, trying to tell me something was wrong.
But I couldn't fight it anymore. The darkness was pulling me under, and part of me—the exhausted, terrified part—wanted to let it.
Wanted to escape into unconsciousness where I didn't have to think about the evil closing in on us, about demons who killed babies, about wards that wouldn't hold.
"Prudence, what did you give her?" Angelo's gaze turned deadly.
My eyes closed.
And I was gone.
I was in Noelle's nursery, rocking her in the cushioned glider.
The whimsical Alice in Wonderland mobile over her crib slowly rotated, playing "All in the Golden Afternoon"—that soft, dreamy song from the movie.
The little figures dangled and turned: Alice in her blue dress, the White Rabbit checking his pocket watch, the Cheshire Cat's grin, the Mad Hatter's hat, and the tiny "Drink Me" bottle.
There was a large red poinsettia next to her dresser, its crimson leaves bright and festive in the soft glow of the nightlight.
All was peaceful. Perfect. My daughter slept in my arms as if we were lying on a grassy hill like Alice had in the movie, safe in our own wonderland.
The only thing missing was Angelo. He was asleep in the next room; I could hear his soft snores through the wall.
Sometimes I just wanted to be alone with my daughter. To memorize every detail of her. Her impossibly long eyelashes grazing her round cheeks. She had Angelo's eyes—dark and deep green—and what I was certain would be my blonde hair, though it was still too fine and light to be sure.
She hadn't craved blood yet, but Angelo said she would soon. All she wanted right now was my milk, warm and sweet, the most natural thing in the world.
The window flew open.
I hadn't touched it. Hadn't heard it unlatch. It simply opened, as if invisible hands had pushed it wide.
Cold December air rushed in, and with it, something darker. A black mass poured through the window like smoke, like oil, like living shadow. It twisted and coalesced, taking the form of a man.
The poinsettia began to die. The vibrant red leaves slowly turned brown at the edges, the color draining away like blood.
They curled inward, withering, and began to fall—one by one—drifting to the floor like drops of dried blood.
The green leaves followed, turning black, the stem itself rotting from within.
Jeans. Black T-shirt. Long black hair falling past his shoulders. Golden eyes that glowed in the dim nursery light. He looked barely twenty, devastatingly handsome in the way predators are beautiful right before they strike.
"Ah, how sweet." His voice was smooth, almost musical. "A mother and child. So tender. So... vulnerable."
I froze, every muscle locking in place. Oh God. Oh no.
I knew who he was. The only person—the only thing—it could be.
Vex.
"ANGELO!" I screamed his name with everything in me, but it came out as nothing—a puff of air, a whisper that died before it left my lips. The sound was gone, swallowed by whatever magic held this room.
Vex's smile widened, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "I see by your reaction you know who I am. Good. That saves time." He tilted his head, studying my daughter like she was a painting in a gallery. "Little Noelle is perfect. Absolutely exquisite. Just what I need."
"Stay away from her!" I tried to stand, tried to move, but my body wouldn't obey. My wings—my wings—refused to manifest. They remained trapped beneath my skin, dormant, useless. I was frozen in the rocking chair like a statue, only my eyes and voice able to move.
He crossed to me in three smooth strides and gently—so gently—plucked my baby from my arms.
"No! NO!" I screamed, but my arms wouldn't rise to stop him, wouldn't fight, wouldn't hold on. Noelle made a small sound of protest as she left the warmth of my body.
Vex cradled her expertly, as if he'd done this before.
As if he'd taken babies from their mothers' arms a hundred times.
"Balthazar needs her more than you do, I'm afraid.
" He looked at me with something almost like pity.
"You and Angelo can make another one. Royal blood. Angel blood. You're both still young."
"Please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Please don't take her. Take me. Take my blood. Take anything. Just leave her—"
"Sorry, darling." His golden eyes glittered with something cold and ancient. "It has to be her. The ritual is very specific. The Full Cold Moon waits for no one, and Balthazar has been patient long enough."
With that, he and Noelle dissolved into billowing black smoke—tendrils of darkness wrapping around my daughter, swallowing her whole, taking her away—
"NOELLE!" I finally could move. I thrashed in the chair, throwing myself forward, reaching for the smoke, for my baby, for anything—