White Nights: A Vampires of Manhattan Novel

by Melissa de la Cruz

  19 | Six Thousand Lakes

  At the hotel, Schuyler paced the suite, waiting for Jack. He seemed to have been gone a long time. Maybe she should have gone with him, to get a briefing from the Venator Chief about any new developments. The hotel suite was lovely – sparkling water and bobbing boats filling every view – but it wasn’t real. What was real was the fight that was coming. She felt as though they were just marking time here, when there was almost no time left. Midsummer seemed to dangle over her like Doomsday. It sounded so benign, but Schuyler sensed a showdown looming, maybe sooner than any of them realized.

  She picked up the phone to call the twins at Mimi and Kingsley’s, but remembered it was the middle of the night there and replaced the receiver. She could call Kingsley at work in the Venator HQ, just to check in, but that wouldn’t be wise – not with Jack about to take temporary custody of Araminta Scott, the AWOL New York Venator. Jack thought it wouldn’t be fair to Scott to report her to Kingsley, when her worst crime seemed to be a romantic attachment to Edon Marrok, and Schuyler agreed. With the world about to tip into chaos again, they needed every good fighter they could muster. Getting Scott fired was pointless.

  The waters wending between the islands of Stockholm looked so sparkling and inviting on a day like this. Schuyler wandered over to the corner window and gazed out. There was an uneasiness in her belly, maybe because it felt so long since she’d been able to check in with Lily and Sy. But there was something else, particular to this place, that unsettled her. She felt certain that Oliver was here – not just in Sweden, but somewhere very close by. They’d grown apart in many ways since Schuyler left with Jack, and Oliver fell – too hard and too fast, maybe, with hindsight – for Finn. Still, the old bond was impossible to break. Olly was here, on his dogged quest to track Finn down and save her. Schuyler wasn’t so sure that salvation was possible anymore. Annihilation might be the only solution to the evil Finn was breathing into the world.

  The phone rang, and Schuyler jumped up to answer, half-convinced it would be Oliver. But it was just one of the smooth-talking young people on the reception desk, asking permission to send Pernilla Stromberg up to the suite.

  “OK, I guess,” Schuyler said, agreeing before she had time to think. But really, what was Pernilla doing here? And why did they need to meet in a hotel room rather than in reception?

  Moments later Pernilla was at the door, a fragrant white cloud of linen – dress, floppy hat, espadrilles. She looked more anxious than she had at the party the night before, her beautiful forehead wrinkled as though she was bracing herself for a slap from Schuyler.

  “Dear, dear Schuyler,” she said, pulling off her hat and then clutching it like a nervous child. “I wanted to apologize in person for … well, the things Lukas said last night. He’s just terribly worried. With the way things are right now. I’m sure you understand.”

  “The thing he seemed most worried about was Jack and me arriving in Stockholm.” Schuyler gestured to Pernilla to sit down on one of the overstuffed armchairs positioned by the largest window.

  “Perhaps that’s how it came across.” Pernilla’s English was excellent, with only the slightest hint of a Swedish lilt, and an appealing soft hissing on sibilants. “But I assure you he did not intend to offend. Things have been difficult for him and he is a proud man. He did not want to tell you, I think, that the Venators here – well, they are not very obedient or respectful.”

  “I thought everything here was run in the best possible way,” Schuyler couldn’t help replying, remembering with a still-vivid irritation Lukas’ boasts about the Scandinavian Coven.

  “Perhaps he had been drinking a little too much as well.” Pernilla leaned forward, her expression earnest. “He says things when he has been drinking, and when he is very worried. You know how it is.”

  Schuyler said nothing. Jack could have a hot temper, but he didn’t have a drinking problem, and he was never rude to guests.

  “I have come today to plead with you to give us a second chance. To give our Coven a second chance.” Pernilla sounded so plaintive, and she looked close to tears. “Things are not right with our Venators here. We cannot trust them. I don’t know all the ins and outs. Politics within the Coven was never my strong point. I just want to make a beautiful home, you know? And have a family, like you. Some day soon, I hope.”

  “You don’t have children?” Schuyler asked, softening. Pernilla shook her head. Her blue eyes were brimming with tears.

  “We’ve been married for two years,” said Pernilla. “I had hoped by now … But these things can take time. Lukas’ first wife, his bond mate Ingrid – she couldn’t have children. It was a source of so much unhappiness for them both. You probably heard at the time, that she … that she ended her life because of it.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Schuyler was appalled. Vampire suicides were entirely unknown to her. How could someone choose to give up eternal life? “How is that even possible?”

  “She started going out by herself a lot, for long walks in Dalarna – where Lukas has his country estate. I mean, Lukas and I. Anyway, every day she walked for longer and longer in the forest, further and further away. She was maybe 15 kilometres from home when they found her body. Silver Bloods had killed her. But I think she had – how do you say it? Put herself in harm’s way. It was as though she was going out looking for them. Exposing herself to danger, because we’d had the reports of Nephilim activity in the area.”

  “You knew her?” Schuyler leaned forward in her chair, fascinated. What a strange thing for the wife of a Regis to do.

  “She was my mother’s best friend,” Pernilla said. She flushed and looked even more uncomfortable. “Like an aunt to me, in a way. They’d both married young, but the difference was, Ingrid married the Regis, and my mother married someone much lower-born. Still a Blue Blood, but – you know.”

  Schuyler knew. She understood the hierarchies of their society all too well.

  “But Lukas must have been very young to be Regis,” she observed.

  “Very young. Twenty-four. He succeeded his father, a unanimous decision by the Coven. He and Ingrid got married that same year, and everyone expected them to have lots of children. But not a single one. My parents had me, and then my three brothers. It must have been very hard for Ingrid and Lukas, seeing that. Aware all the time of what they couldn’t have. The year she turned fifty, that was the year Ingrid died. She’d kept hoping all those years, I think, but at last she knew it was too late. She would never have children, the one thing that would make Lukas happy and their family complete. They had everything else – money, power, friends, beautiful homes, everything.”

  “So how old are you?” Schuyler asked, embarrassed as soon as the words escaped her mouth. It was such a rude question. Pernilla didn’t seem bothered at all.

  “Twenty-five,” she replied. “Lukas is quite a lot older than me, as you probably realized as soon as you met us. He was fifty-two when Ingrid died. Now he’s fifty-four.”

  “You two got married the year his first wife died?” Again, Schuyler realized how blunt she was sounding. Again, Pernilla didn’t seem remotely fazed.

  “A few months later. I know it’s not the usual thing. But a Regis needs a wife, and Lukas really wanted stability in the Coven. Because of my mother’s friendship with Ingrid, he’d watched me grow up. He knew me very well, and I knew him. It was an honor for our family, in a way. It made everyone’s lives much, much easier. My parents, my brothers – everyone lives in luxury now.”

  Schuyler could sense the strain beneath the words, beneath Pernilla’s bland expression.

  “But that’s not to say,” she continued, eyes fixed on her crumpled hat, “that my family really approve of the marriage. They won’t be spending Midsummer with us, for example. None of them.”

  “No? I’m sorry.” Schuyler was beginning to grasp how important Midsummer was to the Swedish. She was also realizing that Lukas was probably as unpleasant to Pernilla’s family as he�
��d been to her and Jack at the party the night before.

  “This is why I’m here.” Pernilla seemed relieved to have her long story out the way. “Not just to say sorry, but to ask you, from the bottom of my heart, to forgive us for the … the unfortunate events of last night. Please, you must spend Midsummer with us at our country home in Dalmarna. It’s the ancestral home of the Swedish coven’s rulers and overlooks Lake Siljan. That’s the largest of the region’s six-thousand lakes, and I think the most beautiful of them all.”

  “I don’t know …” Schuyler began, not eager to spend more time with Lukas.

  “Please,” said Pernilla. She gazed up at Schuyler, her eyes wide and pleading. “It would make things so much more pleasant for me, if you understand. And I will do everything I can, I promise, to make sure you are welcome and enjoy yourselves. We

  have a small celebration starting at lunchtime tomorrow, and in the evening there’s a much bigger gathering in the nearby forest. Lukas is very involved in that this year. He will be busy with last-minute details much of the time. This afternoon, for example, and tonight. And tomorrow until lunch, I’m sure.”

  Pernilla shot Schuyler a significant glance, looking much more knowing than she’d seemed in her Stepford guise the night before. Lukas would be out of the house, she was saying. They wouldn’t have to put up with his temper and arrogance.

  “Well, I suppose we could,” Schuyler said. They needed to go to Dalmarna, she knew. What better way to get to the heart of the trouble there – by staying in the heart of power?

  Pernilla left smiling, in a flurry of kisses and thanks, promising to arrange a driver for that afternoon. Schuyler felt sorry for her. She was the young bride of a tyrant, a man who couldn’t wait to get married again when his wife died in the most terrible way, ending her eternal life. Now she was feeling the pressure her predecessor must have felt – to reproduce or get replaced with a younger model.

  Only minutes after Pernilla had gone, Jack arrived – with the young woman who had to be Araminta Scott trailing behind. They were both breathless and alarmingly wild in the eyes; Scott was gripping one elbow as though she was in pain, and Jack was carrying her bag.

  “Neph attack in the alley,” Jack said, the terseness suggesting how serious the incident must have been. He dropped the duffel onto the floor. “Random, probably – maybe we startled it. But that close to Venator HQ, on a sunny weekend morning in the central city?”

  Jack didn’t need to go on.

  “Did you get injured?” Schuyler asked Scott, who looked sheepish. Schuyler wasn’t sure if they’d met before. She would be a pretty girl if she stopped scowling so much, and maybe got some sun once in a while.

  “Just landed on my elbow,” Scott muttered, and Schuyler picked up the phone to order a bucket of ice. “It’ll be fine. I can get it checked out once I’m home.”

  Jack was pacing the room, frowning at the floor.

  “The thing is,” he said to Schuyler, “I don’t think she should go home. Not yet. I don’t know who to trust here – the Regis? The Venators? Anybody? I think we need to keep Ara around because we’re going to need every fighter we can muster.”

  “Well, I don’t know how we can keep her around without anyone knowing. Tonight we’re expected at the Regis’s country home for midsummer festivities,” Schuyler told him, holding up a hand when he began to protest. “I know. It’ll be OK. Or it’ll be bad. But we’re going.”

  “What are we going to do with Ara?” Jack asked and they both looked at her, as though they hoped she’d have the answer.

  20 | Bedtime Stories

  At last it was time for Catherine to put her plan in place.

  Mimi and Kingsley were on their way out to a big society event at the Met, all dressed up. They’d been rowing all afternoon – one of their volatilearguments, involving a broken perfume bottle and a lot of slamming doors – and Catherine had begun to grow nervous that they’d decide not to go. But the temptation of something involving an overpriced dinner, overpriced clothes and the upper echelons of Blue Blood society overdrinking expensive champagne was stronger than any petulant lovers’ tiff. They loved the drama, she’d learned: the drama of the fight, of the making-up, and of the grand entrance they’d make together at the Met. The fighting gave their appearance together some kind of erotic charge. Hey, thought Catherine: whatever turns you on.

  She had the children bathed and dressed in their PJs, ready for goodnight kisses before Aunt Mimi and Uncle Kingsley headed off in the private elevator, Catherine smiling at them and telling them to stay out as long as they liked. The main thing, the thing her smile could never give away, was how badly she needed them to leave.

  It was time to put her plan in place. Finn’s plan, actually, to be fair. As soon as they were gone, Catherine mixed Sy a special “bedtime drink” that tasted like warm milk, but had a hit of something much stronger in it. Within moments he was drooping in her arms, so floppy she had to pour him into his bed.

  “Where’s my milk?” Lily asked, puzzled, looking at her twin brother’s prone form.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to go to bed just yet,” Catherine told her with a conspiratorial smile. “I didn’t think you were all tired, like Sy.”

  “I’m not tired at all,” Lily hurried to reassure her.

  “Well, good. Because you know what? I have something very special for you. But I had to wait until Sy was asleep to let you know.”

  “What?” Lily’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Is it ice cream?”

  “Much better than that.” Catherine led Lily to her bedroom and opened the closet door. Lily’s clothes – most of them brand new, courtesy of extravagant Aunt Mimi – hung in orderly rows. “How would you like to wear that new pink dress?”

  “You mean try it on now?” Lily was already ripping off her PJs. She’d been desperate to wear the dress, a mini Vera Wang, ever since Mimi had brought it home for her.

  “I mean wear it out somewhere now.” Catherine sat on the edge of Lily’s bed, folding the discarded PJs. “I had to wait until Sy was asleep to tell you, but someone else is coming over now to look after him. Your Aunt Mimi and Uncle Kingsley think you’ve been a really good girl, and they told me they’d like to show you off at their big party tonight. As a very special treat.”

  “I’m going to the party?” Lily had already wriggled into the silk folds of the dress.

  “It’s more of a ball, really. The kind that princesses go to. Have you ever been to a ball?”

  “Never,” Lily said, almost breathless with excitement. Her life in northern California had been quiet and ordinary, Catherine knew. Balls were something she saw in movies like Cinderella.

  “Well, your Aunt Mimi told me your pink dress would be just perfect. In fact, that’s why she bought it for you.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” Lily looked a picture in the dress, but her hair was a wild mess, and she had no shoes or stockings on.

  “She didn’t want Sy to find out and get sad or jealous. She thought the ball would be too much for him. She didn’t want him to get all tired.”

  “He’s always tired,” Lily complained. “I never am!”

  “I know,” Catherine said with a broad smile. “Now, we better hurry. We don’t want to miss the beginning of the ball. It’s way, way uptown, and guess what? We get to ride there in a limo. Your Uncle Kingsley ordered it and it’s waiting downstairs.”

  Lily was practically jumping out of her skin with the thrill of anticipation. She didn’t even stop to ask when Sy’s “sitter” would be arriving. Catherine hustled her into black patent shoes and grabbed a hair brush and pink ribbon.

  “I’ll do your hair in the car to save time,” she promised. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”

  The limo was waiting, though Catherine had booked it herself: Kingsley, of course, knew nothing about it. In the back seat, she buckled Lily in, and brushed her wayward dark curls as the car purred across town to the East Side Highway. Th
rough the darkened windows, they could both see the lights of the city sparkling.

  “This is my first ball,” Lily confided, and Catherine laughed.

  “You’re going to look such a picture,” she said. “But hang on – there’s something smeared on your mouth. Maybe it’s toothpaste. Hold still, and I’ll wipe it off.”

  She held a handkerchief infused with chloroform to Lily’s jewel-like mouth, and watched the pale eyelids close. Just enough to put her to sleep for a while – nothing too damaging, Catherine told herself. A healthy girl like Lily would be fine. And she needed to be fine, for what was in store for her.

  The limo didn’t turn off the highway in the 80s or the 90s or even in Harlem, the Met receding ever farther to the south. It kept driving, just as Catherine had told the driver on the phone earlier today. They drove straight through the Bronx and out of the city, beyond its ragged fringes all the way to a private air field.

  Catherine was stronger than she looked, much stronger. It was no problem at all to carry the limp form of Lily into the small waiting plane. One of Lily’s patent leather shoes dropped off her foot and bounced onto the tarmac, but Catherine didn’t return to retrieve it. Lily wouldn’t be needing shoes where they were going. She wouldn’t be needing this stupid pink dress.

  Lily was the bait Catherine needed, and now was no time to weaken. The plane took off into the night, Lily still fast asleep, Catherine gazing out of the window in quiet triumph. She’d outwitted the New York Coven. Not one of them had any idea of what she was planning, how it involved Lily, and what the two of them were about to do next.

  Part Three: Midsummer

  This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,

  Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,

  Stand like Druids of old …