The Gates of Paradise

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “No! No! That cannot be.”

  “He was with Simonetta. He was manipulating her all along. That child was not the first. There are others. He has bred a host of half-human demons, the Nephilim. He has kidnapped brides for the Dark Fallen. The trigylph is a symbol of their union—serpent and sheep.”

  “No.”

  “Tomi. I know he was your friend. He was mine as well.”

  Gio had been more than a friend. Tomi turned away from Andreas, the sick feeling in her stomach only growing. She was utterly horrified and unable to accept what he was saying. Gio…? Lucifer? But…

  Andreas walked to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him slowly. He smiled, and she was stunned as she recognized her love once again.

  Just as she had thought: Andreas was Michael. Prince of the Angels, the Valiant, Supreme Commander of the Lord’s Armies. Michael, her eternal love. Only an angel with a power like hers could have stopped the Black Fire of Hell. Only Michael, Pure of Heart, the Protector of the Garden, the Champion of the Light.

  She had known Andreas was Michael the instant they had met; but as the months passed and he’d kept away from her, doubt had crept in. They had been separated far too long.…He had left her, and in his absence, Gio had fed her lies and misinformation.

  “It is not too late,” Andreas told her. “Thank God you are alive. When I heard he was with you…I feared the worst.”

  “Michael,” she breathed. “You are Michael returned to me,” she said as she put a hand on his cheek. She remembered what Gio had said to her that night: I’ve waited for so long; remembered the way his love had bruised her, how he had coveted her body with a fierce and territorial pleasure. Something had been off.…He was unfamiliar.…Her body had known even though her mind had not.

  She had been deceived.…

  She had been betrayed.…

  “It is all right; you are alive, we are safe. The devil is safe behind the Gates of Hell once more,” Andreas murmured, folding her in his arms.

  Tomi felt an ache at the deep familiarity of his embrace. She had been right all along.…She had known.…How could she have doubted him? How could she have let Gio manipulate her love? How could this have happened?

  Andreas kissed her face, her hair. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you again.…”

  Lost you again.…

  And there was the knowledge she could not bring herself to accept. Michael had triumphed over the Dark Prince during the Crisis in Rome. Had won the day, won the battle. But it had come with a price.

  Tomi returned Andreas’s kisses, but she could not bring herself to tell him the truth…that the worst had already happened.

  That she had bonded with Gio, had said the words, and now…Her hand rested on her belly. What had she done? What have I done?

  She had lain with the devil, and conceived a child in deceit.

  PART THE SECOND

  THE PAST IS

  ALWAYS WITH US

  I learned to live half alive…

  —Christina Perri, “Jar of Hearts”

  TWENTY

  Schuyler

  ordelia Van Alen had been a connoisseur of the world’s grand hotels, and Schuyler knew she would have approved of the Casa del Mar. The hotel on the edge of the Pacific had a panoramic view of the coastline and the Santa Monica Pier. Oliver had chosen the hotel for its proximity to Los Angeles and its excellent bar. He had booked them separate rooms on the penthouse floor. They were in Schuyler’s room, having gotten into the city via a stopover in New York. The remnants of a late room-service banquet were littered around the living area—silver platters of shrimp and salad, along with empty green bottles of sparkling water.

  “You only live once.” Oliver smiled and admired the view.

  “Not if you’re a vampire,” Schuyler reminded him.

  “Point taken,” he agreed. “Now, shall we have a dip in the pool and enjoy the scenery, or should we get right to work?”

  “I’m a little too anxious for relaxation right now. If my dad is alive, I want to see him as soon as I can. Let’s get started,” she said.

  “Excellent.” Oliver got out his laptop and started searching. “Let’s see…the Bendix Corp Web site doesn’t have much information on its board of directors or officers, so that’s not going to do it. Checking for Stephen Chase in LA, but there’s only about a million listings.…This is going to be tough.”

  “Look up Bendix, or Ben Chase—I don’t think he always went by Stephen, at least not when he was younger.”

  Oliver checked again. “Nothing for Bendix. Another million for Ben. We need to try something different.”

  Schuyler peered over his shoulder at the screen. “Are there any news articles about the family? Maybe they’re not in LA proper?”

  Oliver ran a search for news articles on the Chase family. “Looking to cross-reference the Bendix Corporation,” he muttered to himself. “Got something—a charity event sponsored by the Chase family. In Malibu. No names or pictures, though.”

  “That’s okay,” Schuyler said. “We can look for phone numbers in Malibu—maybe there won’t be as many as in the other places. Stephen, Bendix, Ben, whatever.”

  Oliver typed furiously. “No Bendix, which is too bad—that would have been the easiest. No Ben or Stephen, either—found an S. Chase, though. What do you think?”

  “Worth a shot.” Schuyler got out her cell phone and dialed the number.

  A deep male voice answered. “Good afternoon, Chase residence. Who may I say is speaking?” Schuyler recognized the voice of the butler, of the help.

  “This is Schuyler Van Alen. Is this the number for Stephen Chase?”

  A pause. Then, “This is the home of Mrs. Chase, his widow.”

  “Widow?” Schuyler blurted out.

  “May I ask why you’re calling?” the butler asked, sounding a little suspicious.

  “I’m, uh…Stephen Chase’s daughter.”

  The man coughed. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” he said. “Are you certain you are calling for Stephen Ronald Chase?”

  Stephen Ronald Chase. Her paternal grandfather. Her heart beat in excitement. This was her grandmother’s house. “My name is Schuyler Van Alen and I’m looking for his son, Stephen Bendix Chase. Ben is my father,” she said quietly.

  There was a much longer pause.

  “I will relay the message to Mrs. Chase, Miss Van Alen. Where can I say you are calling from?”

  Schuyler gave him her room number at Casa del Mar and hung up the phone.

  “What happened?” asked Oliver.

  She told him. She could barely process the idea before the phone rang. It was the butler calling back, with the Chase home address and instructions. Schuyler thanked him profusely before hanging up.

  “So apparently my grandmother wants to meet us tomorrow. She’s in Malibu, not too far.”

  “Us? I think he just meant you, babe.”

  “Ollie! I’d hate to go alone,” Schuyler said.

  “If all goes well, you won’t be alone. You’ll be with family,” he said firmly. “I’m sure your grandmother won’t want an audience. Shall we discuss it over cocktails?”

  Schuyler wondered if she should be concerned that Oliver seemed to be a little too carefree, getting to be more like Kingsley than trying to save the vampires. But then she could really use a drink herself.

  The lounge at the Casa del Mar looked out over the ocean, and the bartenders were attentive mixologists, who made up special drinks for each of them. Schuyler’s was a bittersweet (appropriate, she thought) mix of orange blossoms and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—Pimm’s? Oliver’s was some kind of martini made with absinthe.

  “Warn me if you start hallucinating,” Schuyler said.

  “A snack will take the edge off, just in case,” Oliver replied, and ordered oysters and sushi. “Now, why are you so nervous about meeting these people? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”
<
br />   “I guess,” Schuyler said. “But I know so little about them, and I don’t think they know anything at all about me. I mean, that butler didn’t really sound surprised that there might be some secret granddaughter roaming around, although maybe that’s just how butlers are supposed to sound. What if my grandmother doesn’t want to have anything to do with me? Don’t you think it’s weird that she agreed to meet with a stranger off the street? And what if this trip turns out to be pointless? We could be wasting valuable time here.”

  “Or what if we find exactly what you’ve been searching for all your life?” Oliver said.

  “What do you mean? We’re here to find the sangreal, aren’t we? That Blood of the Father thing.”

  “That’s what we need, or the vampires need,” he said. “But it’s not the same thing you’ve been missing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Schuyler said, annoyed. She pointed her cocktail fork in his direction. “Stop being so cryptic.”

  “Let’s take a step back,” he said. “For most of your life you only knew your mother as an unconscious figure in a hospital bed. You were told that your father was dead. The only family member you thought you had in the world was your grandmother, and she’s gone now, as is your grandfather, who you met only a few years ago. But your father’s family is your family too. Your human family. I can imagine why that would be a scary thing to think about. But it could also be awesome.”

  “Awesome how?”

  “Well, why assume that they’d be such skeptics about you? Why not assume they’d welcome you with open arms, thrilled to have found you? Isn’t that how you’d feel if it turned out your father were alive? Ecstatic?”

  “I used to think so,” Schuyler said. “I kept hoping.…But what if I’m wrong? What if he’s awful? Cordelia always intimated that he’d done something terrible. She always told me to stop thinking about him, that he wasn’t worthy of my mother.”

  Oliver squirmed in his chair. “She probably just meant he wasn’t worthy of her because he was human.”

  Schuyler nodded. “You may have a point there.”

  “Cordelia wasn’t a big fan of the relationship, but do you really think your mother would bond with a guy like that?” Oliver asked gently. “Allegra gave up everything for him. He must be pretty special.”

  “Maybe,” Schuyler grudgingly admitted. She’d always loved her father in that obligatory way that anyone has toward an absent relative—like she was supposed to love him because of who he was. But she’d never known him at all. Cordelia had never talked about him, and for Schuyler’s entire childhood, Allegra had been in a coma. When she’d woken up, all she’d cared about was the Van Alen Legacy. There had been no time to tell her daughter anything else, it seemed. Except, when she’d really needed her, Schuyler realized—her mother had appeared to her, right when Schuyler had been torn between choosing to follow her heart with Jack or to remain with Oliver. You cannot be with someone just because you don’t want to hurt him. You have your own happiness to think about.

  But if Bendix was still alive…then where the hell had he been all these years? Why had he never visited Allegra? Never tried to contact Schuyler? Not once, not a card, not a phone call. Cordelia might have been an impediment, but what could that matter to a father who loved his daughter?

  “Now, finish your drink, eat some oysters, and fortify for your Oprah reunion.” Oliver winked.

  Schuyler laughed. “You’re a good friend, Ollie.”

  “Happy to be of service,” he said, and bent over the table in a mock bow.

  “Watch it, you almost dunked your hair in your drink,” Schuyler pointed out. “You just missed because it’s pretty much gone.”

  “My hair?” Oliver asked in mock horror, running his hands through his thick locks.

  “No, your drink.” Schuyler laughed.

  “Must be time for a refill, then,” he said.

  But before Oliver could summon the bartender, Schuyler heard an unusual beeping noise coming from his cell phone. “Did you get a text?” she asked. “That’s not what it usually sounds like.”

  Oliver looked nervous as he picked up the phone to check his message. “Give me a second,” he said, and stepped away from the bar.

  Must be pretty bad, Schuyler thought, because she saw his face turn pale.

  He walked back to her chair but didn’t sit down.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “That wasn’t a text message—it was the emergency beacon from the Repository in New York. It’s never gone off before, or at least I’ve never been the one to receive the signal, so it took me a minute to figure out what it was. Something really bad has happened. I have to go back right away.”

  “Should I come with you?” Schuyler asked, worried.

  “No, you have important things to do here. Go find your family tomorrow, and keep me updated on what happens. Stay and finish your drink, and get some food in you. We’ll talk soon.”

  It was just as she’d expected. She was on her own. Except for that lingering feeling that someone was very close—and keeping an eye on her. But she had gotten accustomed to it; and since nothing had happened so far, she chalked it up to nerves and anxiety and decided to forget all about it.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lawson

  awson drove back to Hunting Valley as if the devil was on his tail, his feelings in turmoil. He’d always been impulsive, and he had left Bliss in New York without thinking—he’d been angry and had done the first thing that came to mind. Left. He’d wanted her to come with him, and while he had lied—he did understand that her friends were important to her—what he hadn’t been able to say was that he wanted to know that he was important to her too.

  And just as she needed to find Oliver and Schuyler and reunite with Jane, he needed to find Arthur. Arthur had saved them when they were lost, and if he was lost now, it was their job to bring him back.

  His wolf pack was waiting for him when he reached the cavern. Malcolm literally jumped for joy when he saw him, and Ahramin unexpectedly threw herself into his arms for a hug. “What was that for?” he asked.

  “We missed you,” she said, shrugging.

  Edon frowned. Ahramin must be trying to make him jealous, Lawson thought. She was always playing games like that. He wanted to tell Edon he had nothing to worry about.

  “What do we know so far?” he asked.

  “Look around,” Rafe said. “The place is a mess. No blood, but no claw marks, either. Doesn’t look like hounds from when they attacked the first time. This is new.”

  “Not hounds, then,” Lawson said. Silver Bloods? Maybe they’d drained Arthur, and that was why there wasn’t any blood. He hated the thought of it. He’d seen the work of the Silver Blood in the Repository and shuddered to think of his friend as one of their victims.

  Malcolm seemed to know what he was thinking. “If it was a vampire, there would be blood,” he said.

  “We have to assume he got away, then,” Lawson said.

  “Where would he go? And wouldn’t he leave us some sort of sign if he’d had any chance to?” asked Rafe.

  Edon nodded grudgingly. “We’ve been digging around, but we haven’t been able to come up with much. Just about everything is ruined.”

  “Just about?”

  “We found a book,” Malcolm said. “Through the Looking-Glass. Arthur was always getting on me to read it.”

  Weird thing to leave behind, Lawson thought. “What’s it about?”

  “A fairy tale about a mirror that takes you to another world,” Malcolm explained.

  Huh. “Did you go into Arthur’s room?” Lawson asked.

  “Of course we did,” Edon snapped. “We looked everywhere!”

  “Remember that gold mirror he somehow lugged down here?” Lawson asked. “How strange we thought it was that he’d carry it around with him? Did that get trashed too, or is it still standing?”

  “It’s still there,” Rafe said. “We tried everything.”
<
br />   “I have an idea,” Lawson said. “Follow me.”

  They worked their way through the rubble until they reached Arthur’s room, where the only thing left intact was the enormous old-fashioned mirror. Lawson looked at the ground in front of it.

  Footprints.

  Lawson grinned as he pushed on the mirror.

  Nothing happened.

  “See? We tried that too,” Rafe said.

  Lawson didn’t give up. He ran his hands along its length until he felt a button.

  “What are you doing?” Malcolm asked.

  “Give me a second.”

  Lawson pushed the button, and the mirror opened outward, nearly hitting him in the face.

  “So he did leave us a clue,” Edon said. He didn’t sound so annoyed anymore, but Lawson didn’t have time to be grateful.

  “There’s a passageway back here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  The five of them entered the passageway single file, with Lawson in front. Rafe closed the door, leaving them in darkness, but Lawson turned on his phone, and the passageway lit up, just enough so they could see their way forward. They only had to walk for a few minutes before they reached a door.

  “Is it open?” Rafe whispered.

  “No,” Lawson whispered back.

  “Should we force it?”

  “Let me try something else,” Lawson said, and knocked.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And then…the door opened.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Arthur said, looking up from his book. “What took you so long?”

  The room behind the cavern was enormous. It was really more of an apartment than a room, complete with a kitchen and dining table.

  “So this is where you really live,” Lawson said.

  “An old warlock needs to have his secrets,” Arthur said, with a wink. He turned to Ahramin. “Hello, my dear. And you are…?”

  “I’m Ahramin,” she said, almost shyly. Lawson had never seen Ahramin nervous like this, but it was probably because she’d never met a warlock before. Not that there was anything to be scared about, as Arthur was a true friend of the wolves. He had explained to Lawson that long ago he’d owed a favor to a Fallen angel named Gabrielle, who had turned out to be Bliss’s mother. Gabrielle had asked him to help the wolves, and so he had.