Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Serenity
Full Cold Moon
Tonight was the Full Cold Moon.
The thought pressed against my chest, cutting off my breath like a stone, heavy and cold and inescapable.
Dawn was just beginning to peek over the French Quarter; pale winter light creeping across the rooftops outside our window. I paced back and forth in our bedroom, unable to sleep, unable to rest, unable to do anything but move and watch and wait.
Noelle slept peacefully in her bassinet beside our bed; her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. So innocent. So perfect. So utterly unaware of the danger circling around her.
I refused to let her sleep in her nursery.
Not last night.
Not tonight.
Not until this was over.
Not after that dream—that horrible, prophetic dream where Vex had walked through the window, where the poinsettia had died, where he'd taken Noelle right out of my arms while I sat frozen and helpless.
I wouldn't let it become real.
Yesterday, Prudence never came to our home. Trystan had been waiting for her, ready to escort her here to help with the wards. But she never showed. Didn't answer calls, didn't respond to messages. Trystan didn't know what had happened to her.
We could only assume she'd been intercepted. Captured. Or worse.
Possibly by Tinker Bell.
My stomach churned with betrayal and disbelief. Enzo had found the evidence in Tinker Bell's private rooms at the Moon Coven—dark ritual components, demonic sigils, instructions written in her own handwriting for a sacrifice on December 15th.
Tonight.
The Full Cold Moon.
None of the witches could believe it. Tinker Bell—their high priestess, their leader—practicing the darkest arts. Making deals with demons. Planning to sacrifice a child.
Planning to sacrifice my child.
She was still missing. No one had seen her since the day she supposedly left for Salem. She was out there somewhere, probably with Vex, probably plotting the exact moment they'd come for Noelle.
How could she do this?
Tinker Bell had sat in our home. Had drunk Elena's coffee at our kitchen table. Had smiled warmly at me while I was pregnant, her hand resting briefly on my belly, and told me the wards would keep us safe. That no demon could touch us.
She'd been lying the whole time. Every word, every smile, every reassurance—all lies. Luring us into her trap while we trusted her completely.
Her mask had been exquisite, hiding her true self perfectly. The concerned friend. The powerful protector. The high priestess who stood against darkness.
When all along she was the darkness.
And to want to murder—
I looked down at Noelle, so small and helpless in her bassinet. Her little fists curled near her face, her rosebud mouth moving slightly as she dreamed.
—to want to murder my sweet baby.
Rage and fear warred inside me, making my wings ache to manifest, making my Nephilim power surge through my veins, hot and fierce.
Let them come.
Let Tinker Bell and Vex try to take my daughter.
They'd learn what a Nephilim’s love could do.
Angelo and his men were patrolling outside—I could hear them moving through the predawn darkness, their footsteps careful and deliberate. Vampires hunting for threats in the shadows they normally ruled.
Trystan had arrived an hour ago with a dozen of his pack, and they were patrolling the perimeter in wolf form.
I'd watched from the window as they'd shifted—powerful, deadly predators circling our home like a living fence.
If anyone tried to break through, tried to get to Noelle, they'd be torn apart before they took three steps.
It should have made me feel safe.
It didn't.
Someone knocked softly on the door—three gentle taps so as not to wake the baby.
"Come in," I whispered.
Joy slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. She looked as exhausted as I felt, dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. "Hey. I see you couldn't sleep either."
"How can I?" I gestured helplessly at Noelle, at the window, at everything. "It's today, Joy. Tonight. The Full Cold Moon rises in—what, twelve hours? Fourteen?"
"Thirteen," she said quietly, coming to stand beside me. She looked down at Noelle sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the danger. "Thirteen hours until moonrise."
My throat tightened. Thirteen hours. That's all we had.
"My shadows will protect you," Joy said, and, as if responding to her words, the shadows in the room deepened, darkened, swirling gently around us. Around the bassinet like a living shield. "I won't let anyone take her, Serenity. I swear it."
Her shadows had grown stronger—faster, more precise. I wanted to believe that would be enough. And when I looked into her eyes, I did. She’d do everything she could to protect me and the baby.
I stretched out my hand and she clasped it, her fingers cold but strong. "Thank you."
We stood there together, watching Noelle sleep, watching the sun rise higher outside the window.
Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours.
The waiting was torture.
Angelo came in periodically with updates—nothing. No sign of movement. No dying vegetation reported anywhere near the house. Trystan's wolves had found no scent trails. It was as if Vex and Tinker Bell had vanished completely.
Or were waiting for the perfect moment.
Joy stayed with me through the morning, through the afternoon, but then she left to have a few stolen moments with Enzo. We took turns holding Noelle, feeding her, changing her, trying to maintain some sense of normalcy while the clock ticked relentlessly forward.
Noon came and went. Six hours until moonrise.
Then four hours.
Then two.
The sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple. Beautiful. Deadly.
There was still no sign of Prudence.
No sign of Tinker Bell.
No sign of Vex.
The silence was almost worse than an attack would have been.
Angelo finally came into our bedroom as the last rays of sunlight disappeared. His face was drawn, tense, his eyes dark with worry and barely contained violence. He carried a cup of steaming tea on a small tray.
"Tesoro, the moon will rise in ninety minutes." He handed me the tea, his movements careful, tender. "Elena made this for you. It will help soothe your nerves."
"Thank you." My hands were shaking as I took the cup. "I could use something to drink."
I brought it to my lips and sipped. It was delicious—sweet and warming, with flavors of cranberries and anise, exactly the kind of thing Elena would make. I took another sip, grateful for the warmth spreading through my chest.
But then the room started to tilt.
Back and forth, like I was on a ship in a storm. The walls blurred, doubled, swam in my vision.
"Angelo—" I reached for him, and his hand clasped my arm, guiding me firmly into the chair beside Noelle's bassinet.
My muscles turned limp, boneless. The strength drained out of me like water. I tried to shake my head, tried to clear the fog descending over my thoughts, but I couldn't. The cup slipped from my nerveless fingers and fell to the floor, tea spreading across the hardwood in a dark stain.
"What's happening?" My tongue was thick, too big for my mouth. The words came out slurred, wrong. "Angelo, what—"
But Angelo didn't answer me.
Didn't look at me.
Didn't rush to help.
He just walked calmly over to Noelle's bassinet and looked down at our sleeping daughter.
"Someone wants to meet you, little one." His voice was different. Wrong. Not his rich Italian accent, not his warm baritone. It was... higher. Softer. Feminine.
Horror crashed through the drug haze.
"No," I tried to say, but it came out as barely a whisper.
I blinked hard, trying to stay focused, trying to understand what was happening. My vision doubled, tripled. Angelo's form seemed to shimmer like heat waves.
He—she—whoever it was—picked up Noelle carefully, wrapping her snugly in a blanket. Noelle stirred but didn't wake. Didn't cry. Didn't know she was in danger.
Then the figure tucked my baby under their jacket, hiding her completely from view.
"Angelo?" I tried to stand, tried to surge to my feet, tried to call on my Nephilim strength. But my legs collapsed under me and I crumpled to the floor. "No... give her... back..."
The figure turned toward me, and for just a moment, the glamour flickered.
Prudence's face looked back at me with cold triumph.
"Thank you for being such a trusting mother, Serenity," she said in her own voice now. "This was easier than I thought it would be."
Then she walked toward the door with my daughter hidden against her chest.
And I couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Couldn't stop her.