My father’s failure.
My failure.
“Schuyler!” It was Oliver. Her friend. He was covered in ashes and blood, and he, too, was holding a sword. What was he doing in the middle of this battle? Oliver was going to get killed. He was the only human. And seeing him made her remember her mother’s words:
Remember that when you arrive at the crossroads. When time stands still. When the path is open to you. Remember who your father was.…
Schuyler had two fathers.
Her human father.
Stephen Bendix Chase. Who had none of Michael’s glory; who was a simple human man. Whose only strength was in his ability to do the right thing. A good man. One who’d told Gabrielle to do her duty and return to Michael. Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice.
Sometimes love means letting go.
Schuyler knew what she had to do now. What she had been preparing for all her life. Every moment with Jack had always come down to this. Always. There was no escape. No happy ending for the two of them.
It was time to say good-bye.
I love you.
Always, Jack sent. Always and forever. He had always been true, and she was glad that she’d never doubted him, not for a moment. Their time was up. No time for even one last look, one last kiss, one last…
In the glom, she felt his spirit reach out to her. He was so very beautiful, an angel of the Light. They were together; he was with her even as the angel Danel brought down his sword and plunged it into Abbadon’s dark heart.
Schuyler cried in anguish, but there was nothing she could do.
“JACK!” she sobbed. “JACK!”
But she had made her choice.
Jack crumpled to the ground, but he was dead before he hit the stone.
Abbadon was no more.
For the first time, Schuyler saw the fear in the eyes of the Dark Prince.
Lucifer gazed at her in wonder. “You loved him,” he rasped. “And you let him die.”
Schuyler looked at him pitilessly, and with a mighty thrust, she plunged Michael’s sword into the heart of the demon.
There was a great explosion, as the very universe trembled under the force of his death. The demons screeched, the Dark Angels screamed. Their grief was unbearable, and even Heaven itself trembled under the destruction of its greatest son. It was as if the very substance of time had been rent in two, and for a moment, everything was still and silent as the passages healed and fused into one.
Schuyler collapsed under the weight of her sword and her grief.
The Silver Bloods cowered at the death of their prince, their king. But the vampires and wolves took heart from the victory. They fought with renewed vigor, as the madness of triumph brought them strength and ferocity.
Lucifer was dead.
The Dark Prince had been vanquished.
The Light of the Morningstar extinguished.
The wolves howled their triumph.
The battle was over.
SIXTY
Azrael
he saw Abbadon at the crossroads and tried to call to him, but he was already gone. She floated for a moment, above the battle, and then realized she could return now that his death had healed her wound. The bond between them, that had ever yoked them to each other, had been broken. Finally broken.
Abbadon was dead.
She was free.
Azrael opened her eyes.
Saw that Araquiel had tears in his, and she wiped them away.
His face was joyous and filled with sunshine, but for a moment it dimmed. “Abbadon is no more. I am sorry. I know you loved him,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken.
She nodded. “I will miss him till the end of my days. But he was right to do what he did.”
She realized that Abbadon had been playing a game. He knew Lucifer had discovered their deception and so he had crafted one of his own. Had pretended to be Abbadon of the Dark, when always he had been working for the Light.
They got up and surveyed the remnants of the scene. Many had fallen. Of the Venators, both Sam and Deming had lost their twin. Many wolves had lost their lives. There was grief and there was sorrow, but there was also hope. They had fought and won. Heaven was secure. Lucifer vanquished.
“Why do I feel so alone?” Azrael said. The bond was broken. She was empty. Her twin, her star, her brother, her enemy, her love, gone. She wept for Abbadon.
“Never,” Araquiel said. “You will never be alone again. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
SIXTY-ONE
Schuyler
here was someone helping her up, and at first she thought it was Jack. But when she opened her eyes, she saw that it was not.
Michael stood before her. The immortal angel had returned from the prison of the White Darkness, from the Hell that he had created for himself, from the darkness of his failure. Her father was white and pure. The pure light of Heaven shone from his eyes.
He smiled at her gently.
“My daughter,” he said. “I am so very proud of you.”
There was someone with him.
Gabrielle. Eternal angel. Her mother. She was so much more beautiful than she had ever been. She had returned to her full glory, to her full magnificence. So this was the Uncorrupted. Schuyler now understood what that meant.
Free of sin.
Full of joy.
Beauty and light.
There was someone with them. Schuyler’s father. Bendix Chase. He looked strangely inconsequential next to the two golden angels, but Schuyler saw his kind blue eyes and she was glad. The three of them smiled at her.
But there were so many more. Lawrence was there as well, and Cordelia; Kingsley and Mimi, Bliss and Lawson. Oliver. Dylan. Jane. So many of them looking at her, watching, waiting.
“What now?” she asked.
Then she saw that the gate had opened, that the way before them was filled with light.
“Lead us,” Gabrielle said, pointing to the path. “We will follow.”
It is said among our people that Gabrielle’s daughter will bring us the salvation we seek.
The Redemption of the Fallen had begun.
AFTER
ABSOLUTE
BEGINNERS
As long as we’re together,
The rest can go to hell.
—David Bowie, “Absolute Beginners”
SIXTY-TWO
Schuyler
chuyler had chosen to go to college about as far away from New York City as she could while still remaining in the contiguous United States. The campus was beautiful, dotted with palm trees and reddish-tinted buildings made of stucco. She had joked with Oliver that it felt more like going to a country club than a university, as there was even a man-made lake for sailing lessons.
Three years had passed since the final battle. It was the first week of May, and Schuyler’s friends were making plans for the summer—traveling scholarships, working internships; everyone ready to leave, ready to go. Schuyler was sitting on the grass with them, watching their animated faces, laughing at their jokes, but when they asked about her plans she shrugged.
She thought she could stay right here for as long as possible—watch the days get longer and the nights shorter, enjoy being young for as long as she could, even as she had celebrated her twenty-first birthday that September.
A breeze blew, and she gathered her things and hopped onto her bike, thinking she would stop by the library to pick up a few books for research on her thesis. She had finally decided on a major—had been tempted to follow her sister’s path, but decided it was ultimately not for her, to Finn’s disappointment. While she was drawn to art, she wasn’t passionate enough to study it seriously.
Finn had moved to New York for work, and it was her cherished dream that the two of them could share an apartment in the city one day. But as much as Schuyler missed her sister and the city, she was enjoying being far away from so many memories. It was too soon. Schuyler enjo
yed her anonymity in California. No one knew who she was, no one asked her questions about her past.
Lawrence had always advocated finding and fulfilling a passionate interest: Do not waste your life on drudgery, he had told her during those endless lessons.
So she had chosen a subject that fascinated her: History. Because it was said that those who did not study it were doomed to repeat it, and after what she had been through, that seemed reason enough to choose it.
She parked her bicycle and walked into the library, to her usual carrel, but discovered the librarian had given away her reservation to someone else by mistake. Schuyler sighed and settled at one of the big long tables in the middle of the library, where several students worked side by side.
She’d barely spread out her books when she noticed someone reading across from her. A boy. He looked so familiar.
He was reading about Roanoke.
SIXTY-THREE
Mimi
n all her lifetimes, Mimi Force had always had the perfect bonding. The perfect dress, the perfect venue, the perfect party.
This was unlike any bonding she had ever attended.
For one thing, it was in the underworld.
But somehow, Mimi liked the idea. There was something unseemly about it, and she liked the edginess of it. It felt just a little bit wicked in a time when there was little room for wickedness.
She had stood in the gardens of Elysium, she had tasted the water from the fountains, and when she was given a choice, she had chosen to come here.
With him.
They didn’t belong up there. Eden wasn’t home anymore. Not for the likes of them. She was made here. She was the Angel of Death. The one who would bring the Horsemen to the Apocalypse. What did she need the light of Elysium for? She was made of fire and brimstone, smoke and shadow.
They chose to come home.
“Are you sure?” he had asked.
“I’m sure.”
Mimi liked having her own kingdom, her own domain. And the Duke of Hell needed a bride.
Besides, what more could she ask for when everything was perfect? There was a lot to do in the underworld, and they were going to make it beautiful. Things were going to change around here, now that the wolves were free. Hell was about to freeze over.
“We’re going to transform this place,” Kingsley said. “No one will be here who doesn’t want to be here, and those who stay will help us rebuild.”
Their bonding ceremony was going to take place somewhere that would have been inconceivable a few short years ago: a rose garden, one that Kingsley had tended with his own hands.
He stood in the middle of the flowers. He was still Kingsley, his hair rakish, his clothes just a little askew. And what was Mimi wearing? She didn’t care. She could have been wearing rags; perhaps she was. It didn’t matter.
Kingsley handed her a bouquet.
“Still sure you don’t want a big party? With your friends, or whoever?”
She shook her head. “Jack is gone, and Bliss is one of the wolves now. Schuyler and I were never close. Oliver, maybe, but he’s so busy. It doesn’t matter. Everyone else…they’re not important. Only you.”
“Shall we, then?” Kingsley asked.
She nodded.
Mimi said the words she had been waiting to say her whole immortal lifetime, words that would matter to the person hearing them.
A new bond. To replace the old one. One of their own making, of their own choice.
“I give myself to you,” Kingsley said, hands in hers. “And I accept you for who you are. You are the world to me.”
Mimi smiled at him, a blazing, terrifyingly happy smile, and she felt as if she would burst from joy. Kingsley swept her off her feet and into his arms, and she knew she had made the right decision.
But then again, Mimi Force was rarely ever wrong.
SIXTY-FOUR
Bliss
ne of the things that was so wonderful about living out of time was that you could live in any moment and any place in history. Last week they were in Vienna, in the 1920s. Then they’d spent the summer in Newport in 1870, and bounced around to the early ’90s Seattle. They followed the rules of timekeeping, making sure never to leave a mark or cause a ripple.
They were only there to observe and to guard, to make sure that history unfolded the way it was supposed to. So far, there were no other rifts, no mirrored passages.
Bliss had been a Texas cheerleader and a New York socialite, but she decided she liked this new incarnation best. She was a member of the Praetorian Guard, one of a pack of wolves, and mate to its leader, Fenrir, who would always be Lawson to her.
It had happened naturally—there were no words exchanged, no pretty vows, but Bliss understood they were past language, past needing a ceremony. They were mated and it was done.
The pack was scattered over the timeline with the rest of the wolves. Edon and Ahramin were broken; some things were beyond repair. As for the boys, Mac and Rafe, they had delighted in their newfound freedom, strutting in the armor of the Praetorians once again.
Once in a while Bliss and Lawson would visit Oliver in New York and Schuyler in California. Bliss missed her Aunt Jane, but she understood the Watcher’s choice to return; to follow Gabrielle and Michael back into Paradise. Like many of the Fallen, Jane had tired of earth and its sorrows.
But Bliss was tired of grieving. Now was the time for joy and contentment.
In the past few years, she and Lawson had lived all over the world, in every place and time, and yet they always returned to the marvelous forest encampment with the fanciful tree houses that the wolves had built. It wasn’t far from Arthur’s cavern, and it felt most like home. Lawson liked living in the open air, liked living in the trees. His wolf soul needed the forest, needed the refuge of wood and leaf.
“We’re finally home,” Bliss said, coming up behind him and putting her arms around his strong torso. She held him tight and leaned against his arms.
He turned around and smiled. “You are home to me,” he said, and nuzzled her cheek.
She sighed. She had been looking for a real home all her life, and finally discovered that home was in Lawson’s arms.
SIXTY-FIVE
Schuyler
chuyler couldn’t stop staring at the boy in the library. It couldn’t be, could it? It couldn’t be him. He looked different somehow, even if the physical attributes were the same: the golden hair, the sloe-eyed green eyes. But it was impossible. He was dead. It had been three years already, but it was as if it had happened yesterday.
The boy looked up from his book and caught her eye.
She put down her books. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…” she started.
“Yes?” he asked.
“It’s just…you look like someone I used to know.”
“Do I?” His lips were pressed together, almost as if he were trying to keep from laughing.
It was impossible, and yet…“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked.
Jack Force smiled. For it was him, and Schuyler wondered why she had not seen it from the beginning. But it was as if a veil had been lifted, and she could see him clearly now.
She wanted to throw her arms around him, to embrace him right there in the middle of the library, in front of everyone. But she was too afraid that it wasn’t real, that maybe she was hallucinating. It was just too good to be true, and she could not bring herself to believe it.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Right here, always,” he said.
And now her heart was bursting in her chest, and she felt as if she could not breathe. Jack. Alive. She felt as if she could not breathe from so much joy.
“Come on,” he said, and led her outside to a park bench, their books forgotten.
“Hey,” he said, taking her hand.
He pulled her toward him and held her close. Schuyler was trembling all over. She wanted to cry, but she was too happy. She kept her hand on his, gripping it tightly, unable to
believe what was right in front of her.
“How?” she asked. “I don’t understand. But really, where have you been all this time?”
“Looking for you,” he said. “I was gone, and when I woke up I was on the side of a road. Someone stopped and picked me up and took me to a hospital. I had no idea who I was. But it came back to me, slowly.”
“I saw you die.”
“I did,” he said. “But like all the vampires, I was given a choice, and I chose to return. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
“I was right here, all this time, waiting,” she said.
She had led the Fallen back to Paradise, and in the Garden of Eden, the vampires had been forgiven. The curse was lifted, and the lost children of the Almighty were given a choice. They could ascend into Heaven, or return to mid-world and continue their immortal life. But the path back home would always be open to them when they tired of their life aboveground. Paradise would welcome the just and the good among them, as it was for the Red Bloods. Redemption was in their hands now. Salvation an individual choice.
Most of the Fallen had chosen to go back home to the Garden they had lost so long ago. But Schuyler had decided to return.
She was half human. She still had family and friends, and she couldn’t imagine that Paradise would bring anything but sorrow without her love.
She brought Jack’s warm hand to her cheek and saw that he was still wearing his bonding ring on his left finger. Just as she wore hers. Their matching rings glinted in the sunlight.
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