Lost In Time (Blue Bloods Novel)

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Not quite.” Kingsley walked the length of the platform and found a staircase at the far end of the tunnel. “We’re going up. Come on, we need to move quickly.”

  The stairs took them to an empty sidewalk on the edge of the city. There were no cars on the street, and the buildings looked empty and abandoned. metal screens were drawn across the storefronts, and black bars covered the upper-story windows. Right above them was steel scaffolding that stretched three stories into the sky, casting a web of shadows across the street. The structure housed a platform on either side, and railway tracks that disappeared far into the north.

  “That’s the train we want.” Kingsley pressed his back to the cold metal grille that covered the closest store window. Mimi and Oliver followed his gaze. The black tower was covered in dense barbed wire, and a mountain of trash clogged the bottom half of the tower, closing off all of the stairs.

  “How does anyone even get in or out of that thing? It looks impossible,” Oliver said.

  “The trolls just bash through, pulling the souls with them. Like I said, it’s a one-way train. No one boards from this end, and the return train is always empty.” Kingsley glanced up as a train roared into the station, its engine releasing a billowing cloud of black smoke. It lurched to a stop, the wheels sending red hot sparks flying into the air.

  Oliver watched as the doors opened and a crew of trolls popped out, carrying the dead with them. Suddenly the platform was filled with guards and their captives; the place went from ghost-town empty to rush-hour jammed in only a few seconds. The trolls kept walking straight down, disappearing into an underground stairway. meanwhile, the train sparked into motion, its ancient engine firing a second dark cloud into the air as it powered out of the station, speeding forward underneath the thick black smoke.

  The three of them watched it leave.

  “What now?” Oliver asked.

  “Hmm, not quite sure,” Kingsley said, scratching his chin.

  “I think Hell’s starting to rot your brain,” Mimi said, shielding her eyes and peering down the line. “See how it’s passing through that building?” She pointed to a dilapidated brick building a few blocks from the station. “We can hop on the next train once it’s outside the station. It’s only a few blocks out; the train won’t yet be at full speed.”

  “Did you see that thing leave the station?” Oliver asked her. “There’s no way I can run that fast.”

  Kingsley smiled. “Let’s do it.”

  Oliver shook his head. “You know I can’t move like that. Got any other ideas?”

  But Kingsley was already running ahead, and Mimi glanced back at Oliver as they dashed down a side street. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand.”

  Oliver grimaced for a moment, then fled after them.

  They ran across a pair of abandoned lots covered in junk and overrun with weeds. Mimi held her nose as they leapt over the wrecks of rusted-out cars and refrigerators. “Hurry, Oliver!” She looked back. The next train was just about to rumble into the station.

  Kingsley disappeared ahead of them through a broken opening in the side of the building. Mimi followed him up and over an iron fire stair to the third story, Oliver lagging behind. Kingsley picked up a chair and threw it so that it shattered the glass of a tall window, bursting the pane. “Come on, it’s time to jump the train.”

  Mimi and Oliver gathered behind him at the window. Oliver turned to Mimi. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes you can. You have to,” Mimi said. “I can’t leave the underworld without you,” she said, which was the truth, but not in the way Oliver thought. There was still the matter of paying Helda.

  Ahead of them, the sound of the approaching train grew louder as a gust of air pushed its way toward them. Kingsley poked his head out the window to look. “You jump first, I’ll take Oliver,” he told Mimi.

  The train was upon them; there was no time to argue. Mimi leapt from the window onto the roof of the train. She glanced up and saw Oliver shaking his head. “JUmP!” she yelled. “HURRY!”

  Kingsley pushed off from the brick, grabbed Oliver squarely by the shoulders, and propelled them both through the air until they landed not too far from where Mimi was crouching. To Oliver’s eyes it was all a blur, a quick flash of metal and brick, and then they were on top of the speeding train.

  “We’ve got to move—look behind you!” Mimi yelled, the wind tossing her blond hair into her face. “Oh god, I think they’re Hellhounds.”

  Oliver turned to see. Mimi was right. Those weren’t trolls. The three massive wolflike creatures that were chasing them were far too large and frightening to pass for the troll underclass. The hounds moved swiftly and silently, running up the empty building to where the trio had made their jump. Oliver cursed as he scrambled behind Mimi and Kingsley, who were shinnying down the side and entering the train car through a window. He had no choice but to follow, and Kingsley and Mimi pulled his legs through the window to safety.

  “What now?” Mimi asked. “If they get on this train, they’ll take us back to Tartarus for sure. We’ve got to run.”

  Kingsley drew himself up to his full height, and his voice was angry. “The Duke of Hell isn’t about to run from a few mangy hounds. They will heel.”

  Heavy thuds echoed from the roof of the train. Mimi backed herself up against Oliver, shielding him. Kingsley might not fear the hounds, but they could easily snatch Oliver. The air seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then a pair hounds passed through the roof of the train and stood in front of them.

  The hounds grinned at the three escapees. They had lupine faces, and unlike the lumbering trolls, they were sleek and swift and handsome. They wore the silver collars, but the chains attached to them were broken. Oliver thought he had never seen a creature as frightening. They were man and wolf, and their smiles were vicious.

  “Going somewhere?” one of them asked.

  “Go back to Leviathan and tell him I’ve left.” Kingsley’s nostrils flared, and his voice was commanding and thunderous, armed with the full power of his position.

  “Left? But we’re here to fetch you,” the Hellhound replied. “You’re to come back with us.”

  Mimi noticed that doubt had begun to creep into their rough, barking speech. They were still in Hell, and Kingsley was still their master, but they stood their ground.

  “GO!” Kingsley roared. “NOW, I SAID!” The Duke of Hell unleashed his sword from his sheath and sent it flying through the air, where it struck the wall a hair’s breath away from the nearest hound. “Take that as a warning,” he said. “Mimi, hand me your blade.”

  This time the hounds trembled, and they vanished, glimmering through the walls of the train like ghosts fading from the light.

  Kingsley threw himself down onto a bench and smiled at Mimi, who was glowing with pride from his performance. They held hands across the seat. Oliver was just happy to be in one piece.

  “Well, I think we just earned our one-way ticket out of here,” Kingsley said. “But Leviathan’s not going to be happy to know I’m leaving. I know too much about what’s going on down here.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  The Archangel’s Promise

  “Darling.” Charles stood up from the breakfast table when he saw Allegra. He looked invigorated, returned to his former strength. But his confident smile faltered when he saw the distress on her face.

  Allegra strode forward and told the servants to leave them alone. Charles nodded and the room cleared.

  “Last night—I thought I would give you one night so that you could be honest with me and tell me what happened. I believed you last night, Charlie. I believed everything you said.”

  Last night, when they were together, he had sworn that nothing had happened in Florence; that she knew the whole truth, and this feeling she had—that something terrible had happened—was just her guilt manifesting itself as fear. He said he would never lie to her, had never once lied to her. She believed it was her guilt at her mistake that was keep
ing them estranged. He had asked her to forgive herself so that together they could continue to keep their world safe. She had healed him, and she could feel the bond strengthen between them with each kiss they exchanged.

  Last night, after he had pledged his honesty and his love, they had returned to each other. She had thought she’d come to the end of their separation at last. But now it seemed they were standing at the precipice once more.

  “I told you the truth. I don’t understand—who have you spoken to?” he asked.

  “What have you done, Charles? Who was in that ambulance? What really happened between us in Florence?” She clenched her fists. “I cannot be part of a lie. I don’t know what’s true, I don’t know what to believe. But I’m starting to think that maybe Cordelia and Lawrence were right all those years ago.”

  “You’re throwing Roanoke in my face again? Is that it?” Charles accused. “You know there was never any other substantive evidence of—”

  “No matter what you say, I know you’re hiding something, and you’re not sharing it with me, and that is the real reason we are estranged. Not my mistake. Not my guilt. Something you did, Charles. Something you did has changed the history of our world. I can feel it. That is the reason why I don’t love you the way I did before. Because even if I don’t remember what happened, I know.”

  “Allegra, please. Listen to yourself. This is preposterous—these things you are accusing me of—how can you hate me so much. I promised you I would keep our people safe, and I have.”

  “You are going to destroy us with your blindness and your pride.”

  “The gates are holding! I gave my strength to their creation. There is nothing to fear.”

  She did not hear him. “You will destroy us until we are nothing but shadows of our former glory. We have lost so much already. Paradise is closed to us forever and still you do not understand,” she cried. “You’re not the same person you used to be. Something’s happened to you… and you won’t let me help you.”

  Charles’s tone turned icy. “Allegra, why are you here? If you will not return to me, then why?”

  “I don’t know. I think I just wanted to see you again for the last time.”

  “You will bond with your human familiar, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  Charles held his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. When he spoke, his voice was dark and terrible. “Do what you want, but know that I am destroyed if you bond with him. You will never see me again. We shall be estranged forever. I will not be able to survive this, Allegra. Know that my life is in your hands. You have seen what the bond can do.”

  “It’s too late, Charlie. You’ve lied to me for the last time. You made your choice. This is mine.” The bond will claim its own. Perhaps she would die, and perhaps Charles would as well. She did not know. Regardless, it was up to her to find a way to stop whatever he had set in motion, whatever he was keeping from her, whatever was causing vampires to disappear. She was Gabrielle the Uncorrupted, Queen of the Coven. She had a duty to her people. She did not know if she would succeed, but she had to try to undo what he had done.

  As Allegra walked out of the room, she was sure of one thing. She would never see Charles Van Alen—Michael, her former beloved—again. Not in this world and not in this lifetime or any other.

  It was not only Charles’s immortal heart that broke that day.

  FORTY-SIX

  Dangerous Harvest

  Deming Chen kicked off her jeweled heels.

  She’d run so far she had no idea she was still wearing them until she stumbled on a stone in the indoor courtyard. During her week at the castle, she had learned several things. most important, that it was better to be quiet. She had fought, shown her claws and her strength too early, and so she had been chosen for this punishment. She’d heard that Dehua and Schuyler had been able to get away from their ladies-in-waiting, who had been blamed for the loss, and she was annoyed with herself for having made things harder on herself by attacking too soon. She should have waited until she was alone with only the Red Bloods instead of trying to skewer that ugly toad of a demon who’d picked her for his bride.

  She’d weathered an entire week in the company of those simpering ladies, who hated her already because her friends had escaped and gotten them into trouble. The women pulled her hair when they combed it, and laughed at her inability to walk in the high-heeled slippers. Her groom, the demon Baal, had visited her once she had been transformed into a proper little whore: her hair a glossy black, lips a pouty scarlet, breasts rouged and powdered, lifted and presented in the skin-tight halter.

  Baal was large and terrifying, with two great horns on his wide forehead, and a long black beard. He towered over her, but Deming was not afraid. When he inspected her form and cupped her breasts, she spit in his face. But he had only chuckled.

  “I will enjoy this,” he’d said. “Once you are mine, you will learn to love me, my sweet fallen angel.”

  Deming bided her time and waited for the right moment. She let the ladies-in-waiting grudgingly feed her plums and peaches; let them curl and set her hair. She’d weathered the beauty treatments and the simmering resentment.

  Her bonding gown was white, the color of death, the symbol not lost upon the Blue Bloods, who traditionally only wore white at funerals. This was no wedding dress; it was funeral attire. The demon did not care that she wasn’t human and would not be able to bear him any Nephilim. She had been sold to him as a novelty—the chance to bond with one of the Fallen.

  The Virgin Eve, the traditional night before the bonding, was her chance, she knew. The ladies talked of nothing else but the feast that awaited the Silver Bloods and demons in Tartarus. On the Virgin Eve the ladies would return to the brothel for a celebration of their own, their work done for the week.

  Deming saw the opportunity once she was alone, but a troll had been sent to guard her. She’d made quick work of the monster, using its own collar to choke it to death. She hid his body in one of the rooms leading up to the tower—the ones with the dead bodies of Baal’s former brides.

  She started running and did not stop. But the dress was hard to run in, so Deming tore off the hem at the thigh and kicked off her heels. She was barefoot, but now all she had to do was find the path back to the gate and she would be free.

  She was almost at the entrance of the drawbridge when she heard the sound of screaming coming from inside the castle. Her rescuers. Damn it. Didn’t they know she could take care of herself ? This was only going to complicate things. She made her way back to the great hall and practically bumped into Sam.

  “Deming!”

  “Sam!”

  The Venator cracked one of his rare smiles. “You’re…”

  “I’m good,” she assured. “Aside from some unwanted groping, I’m okay. You think I’d let a demon touch me and live?”

  He hugged her tightly. “I know. I wasn’t worried….”

  “Let’s get everyone and get out of here. I just found out something—one of the trolls told me I wasn’t meant for Baal after all. He was just checking me out for someone higher up who wanted me for himself,” she said urgently. The troll who’d come to fetch her had spilled the beans with a smug smile, which had made its death even more satisfying.

  But before Deming could say anything more, there was a silver flash and a loud boom from the great hall, which shook the castle to its core.

  Deming and Sam turned around.

  Jack had been mistaken. It was not a Hellhound that had risen from the deep.

  They saw a great horned beast, larger than any demon, looming over the melee. “That’s not a demon,” said Sam. “That’s a Croatan.”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Deming said. This was malakai, the Steward. On earth he had been known as Forsyth Llewellyn, Lucifer’s strongest ally, and his appearance in the underworld meant that he was even stronger now, as it proved that he was able to breach the wall between the worlds freely and that no gate
could hold him. After taking Deming he would take her blood spirit as well, and planned to consume her strength into his.

  The Silver Blood reeked of death. His foul stench filled the air. He had a bull’s head, and when he laughed, his yellow teeth glistened with saliva. His forked tongue was pierced with a dark bronze ring. His face was covered with dark fur and clotted with blood. When he screamed he breathed the Black Fire.

  Sam and Deming ran toward the battle to help their friends, their swords drawn, but it was too late. The beast’s spiked tail was already buried in Mahrus’s chest.

  The Venator fell to his death.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  The Porter’s Fee

  “We’re going to have to jump off again, before it gets to the end of the line. The fewer hounds we see, the better. I don’t know how long they’ll listen to me if I’m leaving,” Kingsley told them, as the train began to slow down. The land outside was the same dusty desert as from the beginning of their journey, Oliver noted. He wasn’t looking forward to performing another superhuman trick, which came so easily to the two vampires; but he supposed he didn’t have a choice.

  “Ladies first,” Oliver said, letting Mimi have the window. She pulled herself to the edge and then flew off, rolling into a ball as she fell onto the sand.

  She looked up at them. “It’s not bad! Come on!”

  Oliver tried to do the same, but instead of rolling, he fell hard on his ankle, which twisted on the landing.

  Kingsley leapt next, and fell on his feet, standing, of course. He helped Oliver up. “Is it broken?” he asked, meaning the ankle.

  “No. Just sprained, I think,” Oliver said, limping a little.

  They walked away from the tracks and soon came upon a familiar-looking checkpoint—the gas station and sawhorse guarded by the two trolls that Mimi and Oliver had first encountered on their journey into the underworld.