They stopped. Schuyler tried to keep herself from throwing up; all that motion had made her nauseous. It was dark, but as her vision started to clear, she realized where she was.
Hell.
FORTY-THREE
Mimi
he Venators grabbed Mimi and brought her to a room on the second floor of the house, then left her alone. Really? Would it be that easy? She tried the handle. Locked. Enchanted-locked, too, not just regular-locked, which would be easy enough to pulverize. She looked around. They’d taken her to a library, the walls filled with books from floor to ceiling, ladders on wheels propped against every shelf so browsers could slide back and forth between the higher rows. Too bad she wasn’t much of a reader.
The Venators left her in the room for so long she actually started looking at some of the titles. She picked a book with a familiar-sounding title and settled into an enormous leather chair to read. She barely had time to process a word before she fell asleep.
She awoke to the sound of low male laughter. “Such a threatening figure, all curled up in a chair like a puppy.”
Kingsley.
Mimi yawned and stretched her arms over her head, well aware that he was watching.
“A kitten, then. A very, very sexy kitten.”
Mimi started to stand up, but Kingsley blocked her. “No, you stay where you are for now. I want to have a conversation with you, and I don’t want you pulling out that little needle of a sword, like you did the last time we saw each other.”
Mimi held up her hands and sat back down. “You’re the one with guards at the door,” she said. “You’re in charge now.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you,” Kingsley said. “A lot more than I wanted to, given how you’ve been behaving. But I really wanted to figure out what was going on. One minute you travel to Hell for me; the next you never want to see me again; then you throw a fight with me to get me to steal the grail. You let me win, I know. Don’t even try to tell me differently. I know you.”
Mimi started to interrupt, but Kingsley held up a finger. “I’m not done. I want some answers, and if at the end of this conversation you still want to do a little sparring, that can be arranged. But be warned, my darling, that if I’m not satisfied with what I hear from you, this will be the last fight we ever have. One way or another.”
“Fair enough,” she said. So this would end how it was supposed to.
“Here’s what I’m thinking: given your sudden shift in attentiveness toward me after we got out of Hell, I’m guessing that you were forced into making some sort of deal with Lucifer. I know you entered the underworld thinking you’d happily sacrifice Oliver for a chance to save me, but he turned out to be too good a friend. See, the thing I’ve known about you from the beginning is that no matter what you want people to think, you’re not a bad person. Even on your worst day,” he said gently. “Unless, of course, you’re missing something vital. Like your soul.”
She stared at him.
“I think you traded your soul for mine, and that’s how you freed me from Hell. You couldn’t sacrifice Oliver, so you sacrificed yourself. That’s why you were so cold, as if you didn’t care about me at all. Because you didn’t.”
Mimi shook her head. “What a lovely story you’ve told yourself. I’ll tell Lucifer you’re not just a weakling these days, you’re delusional as well.”
Kingsley sighed. “You can insult me all you want. I know it’s a charade. But what I can’t figure out is what happened after that. Because, as much as you’d like me to think that you’re working for the devil himself, I know you. I can look into your eyes and see that you’re there and that you still love me.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” Mimi spat. “I’m just a much better actress than you think I am.”
“You aren’t, though,” Kingsley said. “I know you think you are, but you’re not. And somehow I get the feeling that this whole thing you’ve orchestrated is simply a way to set us up for some sort of fight to the finish that I’d rather not engage in.”
“As if you have a choice.”
“Maybe I don’t,” he agreed. “But you had your chance to kill me back at Rosslyn Chapel, and you didn’t take it. Not only that, but you set up that meeting. I think you wanted me to take the chalice from you, to save you from having to bring Lucifer something he so desperately needed.”
So he’d understood everything, after all. She so desperately wished she could tell him that he was right, that she’d loved him all along. But the necklace she wore was burning, as if on fire.
“I knew that was you from the beginning. Of course I did. I know where Dehua is. I sent her and Sam to look after Schuyler. I wanted to have this conversation in private, but of course Deming is a bit impulsive, and now everyone knows. I had to let them take you.”
Mimi shrugged.
“Why are you here, Mimi? Does it mean what I hope it means? That you’ve returned to us—to me?”
“Never,” she said. “Why would I ever settle for you when Jack is waiting for me?” She wanted to make him angry, angry enough to fight. She could goad him into it, use that male vanity against him.
“Jack isn’t waiting for you, and we both know it,” Kingsley said. “So what’s your game? Why are you here?”
“I’m here for you.” She leaned back in the chair and thrust her leg forward, kicking Kingsley’s knee as hard as she could. He buckled, and she was able to get past him and unsheathe her sword. “A fight to the finish, isn’t that what you said?” She swung hard, with the goal of inflicting some sort of flesh wound, enough to get Kingsley riled up.
He was quick, though, and he darted out of the way before her sword could reach him. His weapon was in his hand before she saw him retrieve it, but she was quick too—she parried his thrust, and the metal swords made a clanging sound that echoed in the room.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said as they sparred.
“This is the only way it can end,” she said. “And it needs to end. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“I could say the same for you,” he said.
They fought like the equals they had always been, blocking each other’s jabs, ducking each other’s blows. As always, Mimi was amazed at how well matched they were. She didn’t have to think about whether she wanted to win this fight; it was all she could do to maintain her ground.
And then, all of a sudden, she couldn’t maintain it anymore. Kingsley had forced her up against the bookshelves, and though she’d scaled one of the ladders to get away from him, he’d used his sword to slice through the stair on which she stood, which sent her tumbling to the ground.
Kingsley stood over her, his sword pointed at her throat. “I’m going to give you one last chance,” he said. “I don’t want to have to kill you. But I can’t have you jeopardizing everything we stand for. Lucifer cannot return to Heaven. I won’t permit it. Say something, anything, so I don’t have to do this. Please.”
But Mimi remained silent.
FORTY-FOUR
Tomasia (Florence, 1452)
omi woke up exhausted in her own bedroom. From the window, she could see the red roofs of the city, the sunlight dappling on the terra-cotta. Why did her body ache so? Last she remembered, she had been up late into the night, working on her sculpture. But when she looked at it, it seemed unfamiliar. Who were these people—the woman on the ground and the two men standing above her?
She was cold and trembling, and her body ached with sorrow. What had happened? Why couldn’t she remember?
Where was Andreas?
The last thing she remembered was chasing a Silver Blood on those same roofs, jumping from house to house until they had caught up with him on the top of Brunelleschi’s unfinished dome. The hooded stranger who had carried Lucifer’s mark.
“Did I fall? Is that why everything hurts so much?” she asked.
“Yes.” Andreas nodded. “The Croatan hit you with a blood spell. Ludivivo and I h
ave worked long and hard to keep you here with us in this cycle.”
“A blood spell! How long have I been asleep?”
He told her, and she could not believe it. So many months. But there was no reason for Andreas to lie to her. He came to sit by her bed and rested his head on her shoulder.
She pulled him to her. “They are growing in strength, our enemies.”
“Yes,” he murmured.
“Do not be troubled, my love. I am whole.” She looked down at his dark head, expecting to feel the usual surge of affection that came over her every time she saw him. But something felt different. She felt…empty. Numb. She pushed the sculpture away from the bed.
“Displeased with your work?” He stood up from her embrace. “Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll fetch you a cool jug of water. You aren’t well. You’re still healing.”
A cool jug of water…why did that sound so familiar?
“Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea.” She had survived a blood spell; she was lucky to be alive. So that was why. There was no other reason she would feel so odd.
Was there?
She looked down at her belly, at her pale white legs, and in a flash saw a river of blood, saw a baby’s head crown, but the memory went as quickly as it came—and she did not understand, did not know what it meant. What baby? What was all that blood?
But something in her soul grieved, something in her soul died that day.…
Tomasia would live the rest of that cycle with Andreas in Florence, never knowing that she’d had a child, or that the child had been stolen from her. And Andreas and Ludivivo would never know that Patrizio had betrayed them, that instead of destroying the babe, Patrizio had raised the girl as his own; had killed his own daughter so that Lucifer’s spirit could remain on earth. The girl was known as Giulia de Medici, child of Duc Patrizio de Medici. When she was sixteen, she tried to kill herself, as she would attempt to do in every cycle of her immortal life.
In the White Darkness, Allegra and Charles sat together at the piano in the Cotton Club. 1923.
“So that is how you hid her from me,” Allegra said. “And that is how I betrayed you. I knew. I always knew. The guilt and the shame at my betrayal has haunted me for centuries. As has my anger toward you for what you did to my daughter.”
“I failed you, Allegra.”
“No, Charles, we failed each other. Because Florence was merely a consequence of a decision you made long ago. This is not where it began, our estrangement. Not here.”
“Yes,” Charles said. “You were never able to forgive me for it. Look at that sculpture you made.”
Allegra stared at the sculpture on the table in Florence so long ago. A sculpture that harkened back even further in their history. A woman on the ground. Two men above her. One with a sword to the other’s throat.
“This all started in Rome.”
FORTY-FIVE
Bliss
ow fitting that Caligula had hidden the path in a theater—his entire life had been a charade. Perhaps that was the idea—that Lucifer was laughing at them as he worked toward their destruction. Bliss forged ahead, not quite sure what she would find, or what they would do when they did find the blockage.
“Bliss?” Malcolm said. “I feel kinda weird.”
“Weird how? Like, it’s-dark-and-you’re-freaked-out weird, or like, the-passages-are-closer weird?”
“Passages weird,” he whispered.
“Well, at least we know we’re in the right place,” she said. “What do we do now?”
“It gets worse the closer I get to the passages,” he said. “We need to keep going.”
They walked toward the center of the courtyard. In the faint light of her phone, Bliss could see Malcolm’s face turning green. “Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Malcom’s stomach was sensitive to the slightest evil. In the past, his sickness warned the pack of an imminent attack by Hellhounds.
He waved her off. “It’s what I signed up for. I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine, though. She hoped they found something quickly. At least they had time to explore—it had only taken them minutes to get to the center, where Malcolm quietly turned and threw up. “This is it,” he said. “It’s right here.”
“What’s here?”
“An open passage, which is why I feel so terrible.”
“Lawson’s the only one who can open a portal,” said Bliss. But as they walked closer, she saw that Malcom was right. The air before them shimmered, and finally a light began to shine, brighter and brighter, until a tunnel stood before them.
“I’m going in,” Bliss said.
“Not by yourself you’re not,” Malcolm said.
“I have to. You have to let them know we’re here.”
“Stop arguing. We’re right here,” came the voice of Ahramin. Edon and Rafe were right behind her. “Hurry. I think the hotel’s getting suspicious about us.”
“All right—Mac and I will go first, then the rest of you will follow.”
Together they walked into the light. Bliss felt the now-familiar disorientation of being in the passages, having no idea where she was. But unlike in times past, they didn’t stop; instead, the swirling sensation slowed down, and she found that they could move around in the light.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Malcolm said. “I think we’re near the place where something bad happened. Let’s just keep going and see what happens.”
But before they could take another step, there was a rumbling sound, and Bliss felt the ground beneath them disappear.
She was falling, falling, into the abyss, into the void, into the nothingness of time and space.
It felt as if she were falling forever. She couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours before she finally passed out. She came to and realized she was being held. She could feel strong arms around her, and she opened her eyes. She could see the light of the passages above her, faintly, but all was dark. “What—? Where am I? Who—?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” a voice said.
Lawson.
“How did you get here?” she asked, even though she had already guessed.
“From the other direction. I was able to open a portal. This is it. This is the break in the passages, the rift in the timeline. See how the tunnel stops right there?” he asked.
“Mac, are you okay?” Bliss said.
“Here,” Malcolm said, taking off his glasses and wiping them with the bottom of his shirt.
“Where’s everyone else?” Bliss asked.
“I think they’re still in the passages; I can hear them,” Lawson said. “They’ll be all right; they went the other way. We’ll catch up with them later.”
“How did you find us?”
“I was just ahead of you in the passages, from the other direction, and I saw both of you fall, and I jumped.”
“Where are we?”
“The abyss. Limbo. We need to get back up there,” he said, pointing to the light far above them.
“How do we do that?”
“Together”—Lawson held each of their hands—“we’ll jump.”
They were back in the tunnel. Back where they had started. Bliss could see the rift now. There were two passages meeting in the middle; two mirrored tunnels meeting in a point. The fissure was broken. They had attempted to cross it, and that was why they had been thrown into Limbo.
“What is it?”
“Time stopped here,” Lawson said. “The fissure means it was manipulated by someone. It stopped and then the passages forked in two directions, whereas time should only go in one way.”
Bliss stared at the rift, and she remembered something she had learned during the Committee meetings, when she had first been inducted into the secret world of the Blue Bloods.
Only one vampire in the history of the world has had the ability to stop time.
“Now is the hard part,
” Lawson said. “You need to concentrate. Try to put yourself in Allegra’s mind, or in—” He couldn’t say it; Bliss could hear it in his voice: In your father’s. “Either one of your parents might be able to show us what happened, if they were here. Focus, and I’ll go into the glom and try to see what you see.”
Bliss closed her eyes. Show me, she thought. One of you, please, show me. Now.
Then she saw.
A woman running through the passages. She was frightened, and Bliss felt her fear. It was vibrating all around her.
Bliss stared at her.
The woman stared back.
It was Allegra, and not Allegra.
She looked different. This was her mother in a different cycle.
But it was her immortal spirit that Bliss recognized.
Gabrielle.
“Run!” Gabrielle said. “Run!” She ran toward the fissure, toward the darkness.
Bliss gasped and stumbled, and Lawson caught her.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have to help her!” Bliss said.
“There’s nothing we can do from here,” Lawson said. “All we can do is watch and try to understand what happened.”
“I don’t want to understand! I want to make it stop before whoever that is gets her.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I know who’s chasing her. I know why she’s running away, and he’s coming closer now. It’s…it’s my father.”
FORTY-SIX
Schuyler
hat was more surprising than finding herself suddenly in Hell was who had taken her there. How had she not recognized his voice? How had she not recognized him from the very beginning? He had disguised himself—an illusion, she saw now—and she hadn’t even noticed; hadn’t given a second glance to the black-suited chauffeur holding the sign.
The illusion was gone, and now she could see him clearly. His shining blond hair and glass-green eyes. She could feel his body against hers, and his breath on her cheek. He was alive—her heart leapt at that—Jack was alive! She had tried so hard to suppress her feelings, to stop herself from worrying—but to see him in front of her made her realize how truly she had believed he was dead. But her happiness was hers alone. He did not share it and she did not understand why. She stared at his face: why was he scrowling like that? And why was he so cold? His skin was like ice to the touch—as if he were made of marble. He was like a statue.
The Gates of Paradise Page 19