The Gates of Paradise Page 17

  “I am too!” Schuyler said. “Tell me more about our dad, and you. Everything. I want to know everything.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, catching up on the things they’d missed out on, not growing up together. Schuyler edited her version heavily, just as she had with Decca. She didn’t want to freak out her Red Blood relatives.

  “You were a model?” Finn asked, impressed. “Was it fun?”

  “Not really,” Schuyler admitted. “But I did love the free clothes.”

  “I guess I was a bit of a jock,” Finn said. “Field hockey, softball, track. I don’t think I took my hair out of a ponytail until college. But like Dad, I was always drawing. And I prepped at Endicott like him. I was a Peithologian too. When I was there, I found he’d carved his name and Allegra’s in the woods. It was very romantic.”

  “I’ll carve your name anytime,” Oliver murmured.

  Schuyler elbowed him. “Subtlety is key,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?” Finn asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Oliver said.

  “So neither of you is in school right now?” Finn asked.

  “We decided to put it off for a while,” Schuyler said.

  “Didn’t want to waste the opportunity,” Oliver said. “We’re traveling instead.”

  “Anyplace exciting?”

  They looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Exciting was one way of putting it. “In the past year, I’ve been to London, Egypt, and Italy,” Schuyler said.

  “And I’ve been to—” Oliver paused. “I guess Europe, mostly.”

  Schuyler imagined he’d been tempted to explain that he’d spent quality time in the underworld, but it didn’t really seem appropriate for the situation. It must have killed him that her travel sounded more exciting than his. She could barely hide her smirk.

  “So you guys have no idea what you’re missing, then,” Finn said.

  “We don’t miss going to class,” Oliver said.

  “Oh, but the real fun starts when classes end. There’s a big party tonight. Will you come? Or do you have to leave soon?”

  Oliver looked at Schuyler. She’d rarely seen a pleading look in his eyes, so it took her a minute to recognize it for what it was. He’d been partying with socialites and aristocrats in London, and yet here he was, angling to go to a regular college party.

  She wasn’t sure what to do—they probably should get back to London and meet up with the rest of the Blue Bloods; but that would basically be admitting that the trip was, from that perspective, a wash. And then there was the whole blood painting possibility…the Blood of the Father.…If she stayed, maybe she’d have a chance to check it out.

  “Sure, why not?” she said.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Mimi

  ove never failed to get people in trouble, Mimi thought. Look at Ted and Deming: either one of them on their own could have stopped her, but together they were so worried about each other’s safety that all Mimi had to do was grasp the opportunity when it came to her. She kept her sword pointed at Deming’s neck as Deming tied Ted up, using the silver Venator rope. That would keep him until Sam and Dehua found him, anyway, and in the meantime, she and Deming would have a head start getting to the Venator conclave.

  “It didn’t have to be this way,” Mimi said. “And if you cooperate, it will all be over soon. The Dark Prince will reward you handsomely if you cast your lot with ours and join our ranks.”

  “You disgust me,” Deming said. “How could you do this to the Coven? You were our Regent.”

  Ted wouldn’t even look her in the eye, and Mimi realized that while there were those in the Coven who’d always suspected her and Jack of being traitors, Ted Lennox had not been one of them. He had believed in her, and she had let him down. His shoulders sagged beneath the rope.

  I have to do what I have to do, Mimi thought. If Jack wouldn’t do it, then she would. This was the only way to keep all of them alive.

  The conclave was held at a stately old manor on the outskirts of London. It was well hidden and well protected; Mimi would never have found it without Deming. It was blocked from sight by numerous different types of enchantments, and heavily guarded by the Venators themselves.

  Mimi had used the mutatio to disguise herself as Deming’s twin sister, Dehua. The other half of the Chen-Lennox foursome had been called away for some secret mission, so there was little chance the real Dehua would attend the meeting.

  The entryway to the manor emptied into a large living room, furnished with antique velvet-upholstered sofas and mahogany tables, but also crammed with folding chairs to accommodate the crowd the organizers had anticipated.

  Except there wasn’t a crowd. The room wasn’t even half full.

  Mimi recognized several members of the New York Coven, along with other vampires she’d met over the years in various parts of the world. Several Venators were also in attendance, some of whom she’d never seen before.

  “I don’t understand,” Mimi whispered to Deming. “Where is everybody?”

  “This is everybody,” Deming whispered back. “Most of the vampires are in hiding, and a lot of them just didn’t respond to the call. Some of them have decided to assimilate; others are too scared to fight. People thought you and Jack gave up, and with Michael and Gabrielle gone…” Her voice trailed off.

  Mimi thought back to other gatherings of the vampires, like her favorite, the Four Hundred Ball, held every year so new vampires could be introduced to the community. There were barely thirty people in this room, if you counted both vampires and Venators.

  “How exactly are you guys going to mount a defense?” she asked. “I mean, look around. How is this motley crew going to stop the Dark Prince from taking Paradise? They don’t look like they could take down a nightclub.”

  “I guess you’d know, being so close to Lucifer and all,” Deming said pointedly. “You are an embarrassment to our kind. You should have stayed in the underworld. It’s where you belong.”

  Mimi was about to retaliate with a sharp nudge of her knife, but before she could say anything, the room started buzzing. It could only mean one thing.

  Kingsley was here.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Bliss

  he next morning, Bliss told the rest of the pack about her dream and her realization. “We need to discover a way into that underground city. The Theatre of Pompey was part of it, I remember now.”

  “But almost nothing of the theater remains,” Malcolm said. “It was all destroyed.”

  “It can’t be. I saw it. I saw it standing,” Bliss said. “Where are those maps of Rome? Of the old city? And the new one?”

  She placed the maps over each other. “There,” she said, pointing to a semicircular location in the center of the ancient city. “In that neighborhood. That’s where the theater used to be.” The foundation of the theater still remained, she was sure, but it was hidden underneath, in the surrounding basements and cellars of the buildings that had been built upon its ruins.

  “What’s there now?” Rafe asked, leaning closer.

  “A hotel,” Malcolm said. “The Albergo Sole al Biscione near the Campo de Fiori.”

  The sky was overcast and gray, and the weather had cooled, so there weren’t many tourists around when they arrived at the open-air market. Which meant they were less likely to be observed, but also less likely to blend in. They would just have to be careful.

  The Biscione was a grand old hotel, and as soon as they entered the lobby, Bliss felt everyone’s eyes on them. The boys were wearing their usual mismatched thrift-store castoffs, and Bliss felt grubby in her day-old jeans and flannel shirt. Ahramin looked perfectly striking as usual, like an old-fashioned femme fatale in her black clothes, so perhaps the pack would pass as her entourage.

  Bliss wasn’t the daughter of a senator for nothing. “Most rich American kids look like bums, so just act like you belong and no one will question you,” she told them.

  “Right,” Malco
lm said.

  But after an hour of surveying every inch of the lobby and visiting the basement restaurant, they were stymied. Bliss looked around helplessly. Nothing looked familiar. The group split up: Edon went with Rafe, Malcolm with Bliss, and Ahramin went alone.

  A half hour later, it was Ahramin who gathered the pack together at a corner sofa, hidden from the guests. “I found it!” she whispered, triumphant.

  “Where?” Malcolm asked.

  “I’ll show you,” she said, and they followed her down the steps to the underground restaurant.

  “We were already here; there was nothing,” Edon complained.

  But Ahramin kept leading them down. Past the wine cellar. To a stone wall.

  “Does that look familiar?” she asked Bliss.

  Bliss blinked. It was the wall. The wall of the theater from her dream. This was it.

  “Here.” Ahramin pointed at a grate in the stone floor that seemed to be useless—it just covered another stone.

  “What are we looking at?” Bliss asked.

  Ahri looked around to make sure no one was watching, then lifted the grate.

  “It’s just another rock,” Edon said.

  “Look closer.”

  Bliss peered at the stone. Just like all the other ones. But wait—there was a gap between that stone and the one next to it.

  “Watch this,” Ahri said, then inserted her fingertips into the space between the stones. She pushed, and the stone easily slid back, revealing a narrow stone staircase.

  “You really did it,” Bliss said, trying not to sound too surprised.

  “Let’s go!” Malcolm said.

  “No, you guys need to stay back,” said Bliss.

  “You can’t go alone,” he argued.

  Bliss looked at Edon and Rafe. She didn’t want to be responsible for something bad happening to Malcolm.

  “Take Mac; he’s small but he’s still a wolf. A fighter. We’ll stand guard here,” Rafe said. “We’ll make sure no one else goes down there; and if you’re not back in an hour we’ll come and check on you.”

  “Me first,” Malcolm said.

  “I don’t think so,” Bliss said, and made her way down the stairs.

  Malcolm followed closely behind her. “I can’t see anything.”

  Bliss turned on her phone. The screen made a dim light, but it was enough. The stairs were narrow and seemed to go on for a long time, but finally they reached the bottom. They’d only walked a few steps before Bliss could see that they were standing in the same courtyard with the columns from her dreams.

  “This is it,” she said. “The Theatre of Pompey. The entrance to the passages.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Schuyler

  chuyler wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. She’d been to tons of fancy parties in New York, and even more beyond that. Masquerade balls, elaborately themed galas…She should be completely jaded by now. But for some reason, the thought of going to a basic college kegger was freaking her out. She tried to explain it to Oliver as they walked the few blocks to the house where the party was being held. Finn was up ahead of them, with Ivy and a bunch of her other friends.

  “Oh, it’s not surprising at all,” Oliver said. “It’s to be expected, really. You’re off to a classic Red Blood social function with your newly discovered human half-sister. Have you ever been more out of your element? It’s not like we got invited to parties at Duchesne all the time.”

  “I guess that’s it. I feel like it’ll be high school all over again, and what a success we were at that,” Schuyler agreed.

  “Don’t worry, this won’t be like high school; and besides, haven’t you forgotten? You married the BMOC. You’re like the prom queen,” Oliver teased. Seeing her reaction, he turned grave. “I’m sorry—it was a tacky joke.”

  “No, you’re right, and I’d rather not pretend like Jack’s not here, like that whole thing didn’t happen.”

  “He’s alive, Sky, I know he is. And he’s thinking of you too, wherever he is.”

  She nodded. “I just wish…” I just wish I knew where he was. If he was okay. If he and Mimi hadn’t destroyed each other, then what had happened to them? Where were they? Was Jack all right? She felt unmoored without him. There was so much she wanted to tell him and to share—about her father, her human family, Finn. It was as if things had not truly happened to her until she told him about it. She was glad for Oliver’s company, but it wasn’t the same. The watchful presence was still around, she noticed, but subdued somehow. She wondered if she would ever find out who or what was watching her.

  “Listen, at some point we have to find a way back into Finn’s room when she isn’t there. I have to see if there’s any way to extract the blood from those paintings. If there’s any chance it’s Ben’s, this might be what we’re looking for.”

  The party was in a house that was, for a lack of a better way to describe it, disgusting. It was a run-down Victorian that was shared by a group of eight boys, none of whom seemed to have any interest in maintaining a hygienic residence. Schuyler’s shoes stuck to the hardwood floor when she walked in the front hallway, and it was even worse in the kitchen, where the boys had stored the keg. There were so many people, they had to push their way through the crowd to make their way in.

  “Is there anything else to drink?” Oliver asked. “Whiskey maybe? I’d settle for a blend if you don’t have single malt.”

  Finn laughed. “You’re so funny! If you go through the cabinets you might be able to find some Soco.”

  “Soco?” Oliver sniffed.

  “Southern Comfort?” Finn laughed. “Ever heard of it? It tastes okay with Seven Up.”

  Oliver scrunched his face.

  “You’re such a snob, Ollie,” Schuyler chided. “Come on, let’s have a beer.” She didn’t really want one, but if they were going to try to fit in, they had to do what the natives did.

  Reaching the keg seemed impossible, though—there were so many people swarming it: preppy boys in their gingham button-downs over T-shirts and jeans, girls in ironic grandma dresses, everyone jostling for red plastic cups. “You have to be aggressive at parties like this,” Finn said, and used her elbows to muscle her way up to the keg.

  “Impressive,” Oliver noted.

  A tall boy in a lacrosse hoodie nudged Oliver out of the way and handed Schuyler a beer. “Here. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to wait for a drink.”

  “Oh, thanks,” she said, a bit unsure whether it was a good idea to accept.

  “At your service, m’lady. May the gentleman inquire as to your name?”

  “Oh, leave her alone, Trevor,” Finn said, with three beers balanced in her hands. She gave one to Oliver and nodded to Schuyler. “Looks like you’re all set, and you’ve met our resident lothario. Trevor, go find some naive freshman to hit on. Schuyler’s with me.”

  “It was worth a shot.” Trevor shrugged and made his way back into the crowd.

  “Oh, he was harmless,” Schuyler said.

  “Sure, if you’re looking for a one-nighter with no phone call afterward,” Finn said.

  “Speaking from personal experience?” Oliver asked.

  Already jealous, Schuyler noted. Interesting.

  “No, that’s Ivy’s territory. More beer for us, though.” Finn took a long drink from her cup and motioned for Oliver to do the same, then nearly spit it out when she saw the look on Oliver’s face as he downed his drink.

  “Come on, it tastes like New York tap water,” Schuyler said to him. “Don’t be so uptight.” It wouldn’t hurt him to have a few drinks to loosen up in front of Finn, she figured.

  After two beers Schuyler felt a little looser herself, so she decided to go exploring. Unfortunately, the rest of the house was even grimier than the parts she’d seen. The bathroom had apparently never been cleaned; there were rings of mildew around both the tub and the toilet, and the bedrooms were carpeted with what had once been beige shag and was now trampled brown. The undergrads were boisterou
sly drunk, and after watching one of them vomit into the pot of a long-dead plant, Schuyler decided it was time to go.

  Oliver and Finn were in the living room, dancing to some horrible pop song. She hadn’t seen Oliver dance since the old days at the Bank. She’d forgotten what a good dancer he was. He was pretty smooth, she noticed. He blended in so well with the college crowd that she hated to drag him away. “I think I need to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Would you totally hate me if I stayed here with Finn? I’m actually having a really good time.”

  It was just as she’d expected. “No problem. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning, though, so if you don’t come home, text me and I’ll meet you there, with your luggage. Finn, would you mind if I went back to your dorm? I think I left something there.”

  “Oh, sure,” Finn said. “Someone can let you in the front door, and my apartment’s unlocked. I know it’s totally unsafe, but my roommate’s always forgetting her keys, and we don’t have much to steal.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said. Easier than she’d expected. She didn’t like lying to Finn, but it was better than breaking in and risking getting caught.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Oliver said.

  “You don’t have to,” she said.

  “I want to.”

  Oliver helped her elbow her way through the crowd until they made it outside. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You know I’d normally go with you, but…”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “The thing is, I don’t know if this is weird, but…”

  “You’re really into Finn.”

  He brightened. “Do you think she’s into me?”

  “It’s pretty obvious, and yes. I think you two would be perfect for each other.”

  Oliver wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Schuyler felt a momentary pang of loss. It had been a long time since they’d been together, and they’d never talked about it, but she knew they’d both been wondering what might happen if Jack never came back. She hadn’t wanted to fully contemplate the possibility, and Oliver had gone to great lengths to get Schuyler out of his system, literally, but the prospect was always there, an unanswered question between two old friends.