OK – who was she fooling? It was a nightmare.
In the dream, or the fragments of it she could remember, Schuyler had seen Lily surrounded by green – maybe Central Park or some generic meadow. Lily was smiling and laughing, that cheeky laugh she had that made it impossible to be mad with her, even if she was misbehaving. Around Lily’s face something was fluttering, and at first Schuyler couldn’t make out what this thing was – maybe butterflies, maybe flags. But then she realized the fluttering things were ribbons, long ribbons of different colors, whipping in the wind and lashing in front of Lily’s face, like strands of hair.
And then Lily wasn’t smiling anymore. She was screaming, her face contorted. In the dream, Schuyler was powerless to help her. She wasn’t even there, perhaps – she was just looking on from afar, unable to reach Lily, or to comfort her. The ribbons kept waving, bright and benign, but Lily wouldn’t stop screaming. When Schuyler woke up, her heart was thudding and she was reaching out with both hands, trying to grab at something – Lily, probably, or the flapping ribbons. Anything to stop her daughter screaming.
No one was screaming in real life. Jack was murmuring the small animal noises he made when his sleep was deep and untroubled, and he lay still, his breathing even. His hair looked like burnished gold in this early morning light, his lashes long and dark on his smooth skin. In the distance the traffic on the West Side Highway rumbled and droned: for all Mimi and Kingsley’s money, and the excess of this penthouse, they couldn’t quite shut out all the traffic noise.
Or the noise in Schuyler’s head.
No harm in checking the children, Schuyler decided. She rolled out of bed, doing her best not to disturb Jack. There was no reason for both of them to be stumbling around at dawn. She slipped on a silky kimono, feather-light and embroidered with different shades of blue, and padded out of the room. The carpet in this penthouse was as lush as a lawn.
Sy’s room was closest, his door ajar. Schuyler poked her head in and repressed a smile. Sy was lying on his back in his usual starfish position, looking as though someone had flung him there. The sunlight filtering through the blind didn’t seem to disturb him, though he sniffed and twitched a little while Schuyler stood watching, wriggling in his sheets until he was comfortable again.
Sy was sleeping much better these days, she was relieved to see, and seemed happy enough in this strange new world of New York City. Mimi had promised him a space travel theme for his room, complete with a desk housed inside a rocket, and for the moment, at least, that was all he could talk about. He didn’t seem to miss the house in Napa at all, and when Jack told the children that he and Schuyler were going away “on vacation” for a while, Sy shrugged it off without a whimper. That was good as well: he’d been super-clingy when he was recovering from pneumonia. But still – Schuyler’s heart tugged when she thought of leaving her little boy here while she and Jack charged off to face god-knows-what in Sweden.
Lily was fast asleep as well, curled up, strands of dark hair plastered on her pale, damp face. Schuyler couldn’t remember what Lily had decided on for her room – something to do with the ocean, probably, because her latest passion was for the creatures of the deep and shipwrecks. She was obsessed with watching nature shows on TV, especially ones that involved whales, dolphins, squid, sharks or anyone in a wetsuit diving into the ocean. She loved swimming, and had spent the last six months nagging for a pool at the Napa property. When Mimi told her there was a swimming pool in the building’s basement, Lily was beside herself with excitement.
“We can reserve it,” Mimi had whispered to Schuyler, “so nobody else will be there. The kids’ll be on lockdown in this building, I promise you. And Catherine swims like a fish.”
This last past sounded made-up, but Schuyler said nothing at the time. Her reservations about Catherine – which basically came down to a creepy vibe – fell on deaf ears. Even Jack wouldn’t discuss them with her. He just got short-tempered in a way that he hadn’t for years. Maybe being back in New York wasn’t good for him. Or maybe he was more worried about what they’d find in Sweden than he was prepared to let on just yet. In Napa they played at being happy regular people, but their true natures – their destiny – couldn’t be hidden forever.
Schuyler crept close, just to reassure herself that Lily was sleeping soundly. Her beautiful daughter, so spirited and brimming with energy. What did the future have in store for Sy and Lily – Simiel and Lelahel, children of Abbadon, the Angel of Destruction? Nothing ordinary, that was for sure. This was the gift of their inheritance, and the curse. Whatever happened to them, whatever passion they chose to pursue, the children would not lead ordinary lives.
Lily stirred, and Schuyler leaned over her to pull up a thrown-off sheet. At this point in her life, Lily wanted to explore the ocean. But what about all the countries of the world? Would she have the same ravenous curiosity for travel and adventure on dry land? Schuyler remembered traveling the world with Oliver, back when he was her human Conduit. They thought they’d always be together, always roaming and exploring new places. Now he was traveling the world alone, on the run from Venators. A broken man who’d almost destroyed the Coven they’d spent centuries building, the Coven they defended from Lucifer and his demons a decade ago.
It was impossible to resist brushing the stray strands of hair away from Lily’s face. Her skin was so soft, untouched by worries, unmarred by battle wounds. Schuyler swallowed back the guilt she felt, the guilt she couldn’t lose. She would never say it out loud, but if she hadn’t abandoned Oliver for Jack, none of this would have happened. None of the good things, like having the twins, but none of the bad, either. Not Ollie’s precipitous decline and fall. She wouldn’t have left him exposed, vulnerable to the charms of Finn, her beautiful half-sister. Finn, who seemed so passive and so good, so pure of soul. She’d tried to destroy the Coven in order to make herself immortal, turning to the dark side because Oliver’s devotion, it seemed, simply wasn’t enough.
Because Lily’s room led to the terrace, Schuyler decided to check that the tall glass door, hidden behind its gray blind, was locked. More paranoia, Jack would say, but he wasn’t awake. Schuyler tiptoed to the door and turned the handle. Locked. It needed a key, Mimi had taken pains to emphasize, so Lily wouldn’t be able to let herself in or out on a whim. The door would remain locked at all times, though Mimi had a key stashed in the kitchen in case of emergencies.
“Like fires,” Mimi had said, with a dismissive wave of one manicured hand.
Like demons, Schuyler wanted to respond.
Someone must have a radio or TV on nearby, Schuyler thought, still standing with her hand grasping the terrace door handle. She could hear talking. A woman’s voice, but not a quiet drone, like the news readers on NPR, say. This woman sounded agitated. Her voice rose and fell, and Schuyler couldn’t make what she was saying. Surely nobody else was up – though maybe Kingsley was back from work already, and listening to something in the kitchen.
“I told you, no!” said the woman’s voice, and Schuyler realized whoever was talking was out on the terrace. She pulled back the gray blind and peered out, blocking the light with her head so Lily wouldn’t be disturbed.
Catherine Denham was pacing up and down outside, close to the glass balustrade, phone clamped to her ear. Whoever she was talking to at this very early hour, they were arguing.
Curiosity sizzled through Schuyler, along with a kind of righteous indignation. She was right about this girl – she knew it! Something was not quite straight-and-narrow about her; nobody could be that insipid, that demure, not in the kick-ass, high-stakes vampire world. Catherine might simper in public all she liked, but clearly in real life – in secret, at any rate – she had a darker side.
And finally Schuyler was getting to see it. She felt like rushing through to the bedroom to shake Jack awake, and tell him that she was right to have reservations about this particular nanny. Sweet-smiled nannies didn’t get out of bed at dawn to have secret phone arguments
on their employers’ terraces. What was really going on?
After she tugged the door handle a couple of times, Schuyler remembered that it wasn’t going to open for her: she didn’t have a key. She scampered out of Lily’s room and down the hallway to the expansive living area. One of the glass doors to the terrace had to be unlocked: Catherine had managed to get out there, after all. Sure enough, one of the doors was propped open with a chair, the morning breeze wafting in and making the sheer white curtains billow and dance.
There was no turning back now. Schuyler pulled her robe tight and stepped out onto the terrace, its white tiles cold under her bare feet. Catherine didn’t see or hear her. The girl stood, in an ugly toweling robe, facing the Hudson and the glinting jumble of buildings beyond it on the New Jersey shoreline.
“No,” she was saying as Schuyler approached. “I’ve told you, and you have to accept it.”
Schuyler focused on Catherine’s slight form, determined to read what was on her mind. But nothing came back – absolutely nothing. She must have thrown up some powerful walls around her own psyche, the kind that could keep other vampires out.
So Schuyler decided to resort to good old-fashioned throat-clearing. Catherine heard her polite cough and swung around. The alarm on her face when she saw Schuyler was so exaggerated it looked like horror. Or maybe anger. Certainly not innocent surprise.
Without saying goodbye to whoever it was on the other end, Catherine stabbed her phone off and dropped it into one of the toweling robe’s big pockets.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Schuyler said, faking a concerned smile. Two could play Catherine’s disingenuous game. “I heard someone talking out here and was worried.”
“No need,” replied Catherine, her tone sharp. She took a deep breath and her face settled into its usual bland expression. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, thought Schuyler. Catherine’s face was a placid mask again.
“Is everything OK?” Schuyler asked. She wasn’t letting Catherine get away with that rude tone.
“Private business. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
She didn’t sound sorry at all, Schuyler thought. Just annoyed about being interrupted.
“Anything I can help with?” Schuyler persisted.
“It’s just something personal, to do with my family,” said Catherine, her voice softening. All the tension of a few moments ago had disappeared from her face and her tone. Now she just looked young and sad. She was either a very good actress or she was telling the truth – something personal was going on, and she didn’t want to divulge it to a semi-stranger. Or to anyone connected to Mimi and Kingsley, rulers of the New York Coven. If she was squabbling with her brother, say, she didn’t want his boss to know all about it.
“As long as you’re OK,” Schuyler told Catherine, trying once again to smile, though it wasn’t easy. It was hard to warm to Catherine Denham. There was something brittle about the girl, and something fake as well. Catherine wasn’t a natural nanny candidate, whatever Mimi insisted.
When she’d voiced her objections to Jack, he’d waved them away, his voice impatient. Catherine had been picked for a reason: she could fight like a demon, and that’s what they needed if the real demons attacked. So she wasn’t Schuyler’s kind of person – that was fine. They didn’t have to be buddies with her. She was an employee, not a family member.
Then he’d gone red in the face and said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Schuyler was obsessing, and it was natural, but it had to stop. They needed to trust Mimi’s judgment, Jack said.
Catherine turned her gaze to the highway and river again, to the cars and trucks already forming a steady stream north and south.
“Well, I’ll leave you,” Schuyler said, annoyed that she was the one who felt apologetic, the one who felt the need to scuttle back indoors. There was something a little surreal about this encounter on the terrace. Maybe, Schuyler wondered, she was still dreaming.
11 | Slaying Serpents
Glad you’re settling in,” the local Venator chief said with a grin. “Nice place we have for you two, right?”
Edon managed a grin, though he imagined it looked more like a grimace. Mina shot him a knowing look, which he was pretending to ignore. Instead of “you two” it was really “we three” in the Stockholm apartment. Ara was up there right now, having a shower – or so she said – before she headed out sightseeing alone. For the life of him, Edon couldn’t imagine someone as wound-up as Ara was right now wandering the streets of Stockholm to look at churches and boutiques. But he didn’t have time for squabbles with his blonde angel. Not with a job to do, and Mina – of all the wolves in the world – there to make sure he did it.
The Venator chief here was named Axel Andersson, and – as the fallen went – he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He was very tall and his fair hair was fluffy like a newborn bird’s. Everything about him was pale – hair, skin, blue eyes. He was dressed in the usual all-black Venator garb, but it was much more informal than Edon had come to expect after his year with the New York Coven. The black shirt was linen and worn untucked. The jeans were the standard black but the shoes? Edon had never seen a Venator in espadrilles before.
Axel had texted Mina arranging to meet them in the square. It wasn’t a park at all, as Mina had informed Edon that morning.
“Something you’d know if you had the slightest grasp of the Swedish language,” she’d said to him, lips curled in a sneer. “Mariatorget means Maria Square. Try to keep up.”
Axel clearly wasn’t a man for sitting still. He was waiting for them by the big fountain, and gestured to them to walk with him.
“This statue is Tors fiske,” he told them. “Thor slaying a sea serpent. This particular serpent is from Norse mythology. It grew so large that it could encircle the entire world with its body, and bite the end of its own tail. That’s why the local Venators had to summon Thor to help them.”
Edon was bemused for a moment, and Axel slapped him on the shoulder, a broad smile lighting up his fair face.
“Just a little Swedish Venator humor,” he said. “I forgot what you wolves are like. No joking around, right?”
Neither Edon nor Mina replied. Axel shook his head in mock despair, and started telling them about what he liked to call the Situation.
“Much as we love hosting wolves in our historic buildings here in the city, I’m not happy that we’ve had to call you in. We haven’t seen any serious Nephilim action here for years. Almost ten years, to be precise. Maybe we got too complacent.”
“So they’re back?” Mina prompted him. She was in her yoga clothes again. Edon wondered when she’d adopted this new look. There was something very wholesome about it, and therefore completely misleading.
“You two know where Dalarna is?” Axel asked, and Edon shook his head.
“Not exactly, though the chief – I mean, Kingsley – mentioned it.”
“Very beautiful part of Sweden, not far from here. Further inland, towards the border with Norway. Usually it’s very sparsely populated, but a lot of Swedes visit at this time of year, to celebrate midsummer, because there are mountains, lakes, pine forests. I have a holiday cabin there myself.”
“The word ‘Dalarna’ means vale or valley, doesn’t it?” Mina asked and Edon rolled his eyes.
“That’s right. It’s the classic image of Sweden, really.” Axel darted a look over his shoulder, as though the seagulls dipping in and out of the fountain might be listening. “The red cottages, the blue lakes. You’ll like it, I think.”
“So why are we going there?” Edon asked. Unlike Ara, he wasn’t on vacation.
“To the south there are old copper mines, and recently the local Venators became aware of some … activity. Nephilim, showing their ugly faces, causing trouble by murdering Red Bloods and leaving pentagrams as calling cards. We had to scramble to contain it, getting rid of the evidence before local police started asking too many questions. I can’t stand that kind of business. It’s against the Code.
We shouldn’t be interfering in human investigations in that way, getting in the way of their own laws and prosecutions.”
“Sometimes you have to,” Edon told him, thinking of the events in New York last year – dead girls, pentagrams, trying to stay one step ahead of the police before the story broke and put the whole Coven at risk.”
“And, of course,” Axel continued, “it made us curious. Anxious. Why here of all places? Why Dalarna?”
Edon glanced at Mina. In all his time hunting Silver Bloods, he’d never heard anything about some green patch of central Sweden. Mina was frowning in concentration, her green eyes hazy as frosted glass.
“It seems incredible,” Axel continued, “but from everything we see and hear, we suspect there’s a breakout, or at least the beginnings of one.”
“A breakout – from hell?” Mina asked, and Axel nodded.
“Almost as though a new Gate of Hell is opening in Dalarna, but not one created by the Order of Seven. One somehow created in the underworld by – well, you know.”
This was grim news, Edon thought, slowing his paces around the long fountain and its blithely splashing waters. If Lucifer and the Silver Bloods had found a way to pierce hell’s defenses, a new war could be looming.
“Earlier you asked ‘why there in Dalarna’”, Mina reminded Axel. “Any theories?”
Axel let out a long sigh.
“Theories. Rumors. Hunches. Some revelations when our Venators go dreamwalking. But nothing concrete, I have to tell you. I mean, it’s not like we’ve seen one of the paths of the dead emerging from a copper mine. But still. When one one of our local team there in Dalarna saw Finn Chase, I knew something real was happening.”
“So that’s why she’s in Sweden?” Parts of the puzzle were starting to swim into place for Edon.
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