Lost in Time_A Blue Bloods Novella Page 9

  “Mamon,” she said. “I see you’ve redecorated.”

  “You like the ninja thing? It’s very in now, or so my over-priced designer tells me.” His face broke into a broad grin. “So how’s life been? I hear things aren’t so great up there lately.

  Michael and Gabrielle are gone, Covens are heading underground, etcetera, etcetera.”

  “I didn’t know you cared. I thought gossip was beneath you.”

  “I like to keep my ear to the ground, or in this case, the ceiling.” He smiled. “So how’s the trip so far?”

  “Inconvenient.”

  “Good enough, good enough,” he said, shuffling papers on his desk. “Well, you know you can’t expect the red carpet.”

  Mimi fumed. “What do you want, demon? Why am I here? I need to get through to the seventh circle, and you’re keeping me from what I want. I hate that.”

  “All right. Hold your horses. I called you here because Helda wants to make you an offer. And before you say no, hear me out.”

  Mimi raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s Kingsley back and safe, I’m not interested.”

  The Demon of Avarice wagged his finger. “Well, you know it can’t be that. But we’ve got something better for you. Regis of the Coven.”

  “I’m already Regent,” she said. “And they offered me the top job last year and I didn’t take it.” She crossed her legs in annoyance.

  “Ah, but they haven’t tapped you again, have they? Right now you’ve taken them hostage by spiriting away the key. But if we make you Regis, your word alone will bind them together and you won’t even need the Repository. The soul of the Coven will be in your hands.”

  Mimi shrugged.

  “I know how you’ve felt over the years, Azrael. They’ve never trusted you, not since the Fall, not since you betrayed them. All those centuries toiling for the Uncorrupted, and for what? They still see you as one of us. But with Michael lost and Gabrielle who knows where—and you as Regis—you could have the respect and the power you’ve wanted all these years.

  You could lead the Fallen. You could be their queen. With you at the helm, no one will even remember Gabrielle. Gabrielle—who’s that? Some slut who got pregnant too many times, that’s who.”

  She did not want to show that she agreed with him, even if she did. She had to focus on what she had come down here for. This was merely a distraction. “What else have you got?”

  mamon frowned. “That’s not enough?”

  “Not by a mile.”

  The handsome devil looked at her shrewdly. “All right, then. How about this? Your brother dead at your hands.”

  “You can get me Jack?” Mimi asked, unable to hide the excitement creeping into her words.

  “Abbadon? Sure. Piece of cake. Just say the word, sweet-heart. You know we can. Send our best Hellhounds after him.

  They fetch.” When he smiled, his teeth were dagger-sharp, like little knives in his mouth, glinting in the light. He jumped from his seat.

  Mimi shuddered. The hounds’ power and capacity for evil were mythical in dimension.

  “Come, take a trip with me,” he said, and reached for her hand.

  When Mimi opened her eyes, she was standing by the altar alone. It was the day after what would have been their bonding, the day Jack had left her to go to Florence with Schuyler.

  Mimi was there to fulfill her duty, but he had left her. The old anger and hate bubbled to the surface. Jack was with his half-blood, his little Abomination, while she waited at the church alone. How funny that Schuyler did not hate her. But Mimi was not so generous. She hated Schuyler with every ounce of her immortal soul. She hated Schuyler for what she had done—she had made Abbadon forsake his bond and allowed him to forget the Code. Without either, then the vampires were nothing. No one was worth that. No love was worth that much. The blood of the angels was on Schuyler’s hands. Allegra’s daughter was said to be the Savior of the Fallen. Yeah, right.

  “They laughed at you, you know,” mamon said into her ear. “When they heard that Abbadon ditched you at the altar.

  That you were jilted. They said to each other, of course he would leave her. Azrael—who could love her—didn’t he always love Gabrielle—wasn’t that Abbadon’s weakness for the Light?

  They still laugh at you behind your back. They call you Azrael the Unwanted.”

  Mimi closed her eyes and could feel the tears and the rage behind them. She knew that every word the demon said was true. Of course, she was not the first to have been humiliated in such a manner—even the greatest angel of them all had been jilted at his bonding—but Mimi had not been in cycle then and did not see it. All she knew was what she had experienced. The cold nausea of shame and rejection.

  “Helda could change all that.”

  When she opened her eyes again, Jack was lying on the ground in front of her. His sword lay broken in two, and he looked up at her with fear in his eyes. She loomed above him, holding her sword aloft; and without warning, she bore it down upon him, right in the middle of his chest, straight into his heart, so deep that it cut him in two, killing him. The heat from her sword set his body and his blood on fire.

  Mimi felt her brother’s blood on her face, felt the heat from the dark flames. Jack was no more. Her joy was dark and deep and triumphant.

  “Mimi! Mimi! What are you doing?” Oliver was running toward her, his eyes wide with fright and worry. “Mimi! Stop this! Stop this at once! You don’t want to do this!”

  Mimi stood over the dead, broken body of Abbadon and howled. “Yes I do! He left me! Centuries we were bonded, made of darkness and bound to our duty! HE NEEDS TO

  DIE!”

  She pointed her sword at Oliver. “Do not stop me!”

  “You don’t want this. You want Kingsley, remember?

  We’re here for Kingsley.”

  “Make your choice, Azrael,” the demon thundered. “Say the word and Abbadon is yours, and all you see before you will be made real.”

  Yes. Yes! Yes!

  “Mimi—think of Kingsley.”

  Kingsley. If she took what mamon was offering, she would never get to him. She would have her power and her revenge, but not her love. She would not have anything to live for once the blood dried from her face and her sword was wiped clean.

  “Remember what we came for,” Oliver pleaded. “Remember why we’re here.”

  “Say the word and he is yours. His death will bring you glory,” mamon whispered.

  Glory. Revenge. Blood. The laughter would stop. The humiliation would end. She would have her pride back and her name. She would see it through, and show Abbadon what happened to those who did not follow their bond.

  Kingsley…

  But when she thought of Kingsley she did not feel rage and heat. When she thought of Kingsley she thought of his smile and his words, and a softness came to her, a blanket of coolness that made the rage and heat go away. She thought of his sacrifice, of what he had done for her, for them, for the Coven. Of his words on her bonding day.

  Come away with me, and live a new adventure.

  She had gone to Hell for him. She would not leave the underworld without him by her side.

  “No deal,” she said, spitting out the words. “Get me out of here!”

  As the words left her lips, the vision cleared, and it was as if heavy velvet curtains had parted on a stage, and they were through to the seventh circle.

  They were standing on a hill, looking down upon a tall city.

  Tartarus. The capital of Hell.

  “How strange,” Oliver said. “It looks exactly like New York.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Truths and Lies

  Months passed, and Allegra returned to her life in New York. The portrait arrived with a cheerful note from Renny.

  Thanks again for the fun night. Hope to see you again soon!

  Allegra tore the note in half and put the painting away in the attic before Charles could ask her about it. The fall social season was in full swing and t
here was a lot to do: charity work, overseeing the renovations on their town house on the Upper East Side, supervising the various committees that made up vampire society. The immortal routine, Allegra thought, finding so much of her work ornamental these days, and no different from the daily frivolity enjoyed by empty-headed Red Blood socialites who partied their way through life in the name of philanthropy. She tried to put Bendix out of her mind, and most of the time she succeeded. He was living as he should: he would marry, have children, and lead a happy, uneventful life. He didn’t need her, he never did. She would only have brought him despair and madness. It was lucky that he had been strong enough to survive being chosen as her familiar in the first place.

  On this brisk October day, Allegra was walking back home from visiting the Repository when she noticed a huge white van blocking the side entrance on 101st Street. It looked like an ambulance, but it did not carry the name of any hospital or clinic. While theirs was not a particularly busy street, it still needed both lanes for traffic to work properly, and a curious crowd of rubberneckers had gathered around the van, waiting to see if anyone would be wheeled out in a gurney.

  They smelled blood and disaster, and Allegra was a bit repulsed by their avid interest. She was also just beginning to worry. What if something had happened to Charles or Cordelia? She pushed her way through the crowd and let herself inside the front door, trepidation in her chest.

  Nothing seemed amiss, however. Cordelia was discussing the dinner menu with the staff in the kitchen, and Charles was in his study, where he was in a deep discussion with Forsyth Llewellyn. Charles was trying to coerce Forsyth into moving to New York and joining the Conclave. Forsyth wasn’t one of her favorite people, and Allegra wished Charles didn’t depend on him so much. There was something about the way Forsyth looked at her that she found unnerving. It was as if he knew things about her—secret dark things that she herself did not.

  Charles had grown close to Forsyth in this cycle. She remembered their father had never liked him. Lawrence would not have been pleased.

  They stopped speaking the moment she walked into the room.

  “Charles, what’s that van outside? Does it have something to do with us? It’s blocking the whole street. There’s a crowd gathered around it now.”

  “Forsyth, will you move it?” Charles asked.

  “Of course,” Forsyth said, jumping up from his chair. He looked nervous, Allegra thought. Why was he nervous?

  “What’s going on?” she asked Charles when Forsyth had left.

  “There’s been an incident,” Charles said. “But nothing that you need to worry about, darling.” He did not say anything more, and Allegra felt annoyed.

  “You’re doing it again, shutting me out. You know I hate that.”

  Charles looked wounded. “I don’t mean to. It’s just…”

  Allegra bit the inside of her cheeks in frustration. She knew why Charles acted this way. It always came down to what had happened in Florence, during the Renaissance, when she’d made that horrible mistake that could have cost them everything. She would never overcome it. She would never forgive herself. It was a memory she would carry her entire immortal life. The worst thing about it was she didn’t even know everything about what happened. She knew what she had done, of course, but there was more to the story, she was sure of it. Charles denied that he kept secrets—told her she knew everything she needed to know—and she had tried pry-ing once in a while—tried to see if she could access the hidden corners of his memory—but she never found it. Either he was good at hiding his thoughts or he was telling her the truth. She didn’t know what was worse.

  Charles sighed. “Anyway, the situation is under control.

  But you asked, so I’ll tell you. There’s some sort of sickness infecting humans that has affected several young vampires in San Francisco. There’s a human familiar in the ambulance that died from it. We’re having the doctors analyze its blood.”

  Allegra raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do that there’s no human disease that can affect the vampires.”

  “Not one that we know of.” Charles frowned.

  “Charles, even you know it’s impossible. Don’t be obtuse.”

  She crossed her arms. “Tell me what’s really in the van.”

  He looked her directly in the eyes. “Are you accusing me of lying?” His voice was calm but tight, and Allegra could see the hurt flash in his dark gray eyes.

  Her shoulders slumped. “No… I’m not. You know I don’t doubt you,” she said, backing down. “It’s just strange.”

  “I agree, which is why we’re keeping a close eye on it.” He cleared his throat. “What’s really bothering you? You’ve been irritable since we took that trip out to California. Did something happen? I didn’t want to pry. I figured you would tell me if it was important.”

  Allegra shook her head. She had wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to cause a scene, and without even meaning to, she realized she had distanced herself from him again. “I saw Ben,” she finally admitted, steeling herself for Charles’s disapproval. “It’s not what you think… nothing happened…

  he’s getting married.” She exhaled. “But that’s not the reason why. I mean… you know what I mean.”

  Charles took the information in stride with a thoughtful nod. “I’m sorry you’re upset. I know you cared for him.”

  Allegra felt as if a huge burden had just been lifted from her soul. She sat down next to her twin and leaned her head on his arm. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. It just… scared me. Seeing him again. After what happened last time, you know?” She had forgotten how close they were. Charles was her best friend, the person she told all her secrets to, the person she trusted the most, the one who knew her intimately. They were two sides of the same coin.

  They shared an immortal life: countless memories reaching back all the way to the beginning, when they were first blood bound to each other. She had nothing to hide from him.

  He pulled her close to him. “Don’t be frightened.”

  Forsyth returned, twirling his keys. “All clear. Found a great parking space on Riverside.”

  Charles reluctantly disentangled from his embrace with Allegra. “Darling, would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?

  Forsyth and I have some business to attend to.”

  Allegra shut the door behind her. She felt better after confess-ing to Charles, and what he’d said was true: he had never lied to her. But lies of omission were sins just the same. She couldn’t help but feel that there was more to this story, and that there was something Charles was keeping from her, something important, and she had to find out what it was.

  In all their history she had never heard of such a thing as a human disease that could affect vampire physiology. Nothing could affect vampires. Oh, they caught ordinary colds and flus like everyone else. They were made of the same basic material as the Red Bloods, with one crucial difference, of course, but on the whole they were immune to serious disease. When the cycles were over and it was time to rest, “death” was just a deep sleep until the sangre azul was woken again in a new shell. There was no such thing as cancer or heart problems in the Fallen.

  Would Charles lie to her? It made her sad that she was even entertaining the possibility. It just showed how estranged they had become. She didn’t trust him anymore, not completely, and it wasn’t even his fault.

  Allegra put on her running gear. She liked to run in the park to clear her head. “I’m going out,” she called, so no one would worry.

  She jogged down the hill, planning to run down to the loop by the river, which took her all the way to the boat basin.

  There were a few other runners on the trail, some Rollerbladers and bicyclists, moms jogging with their fancy strollers. She kept an easy speed, her sneakers pounding the pavement in a staccato rhythm. On the way back to the house, she passed the van, which Forysth had parked on Riverside and 99th. She hesitated for a moment,
but her curiosity and skepticism won, and she moved toward it. There was no one else on the street, and it was easy enough to pop the lock. She pulled open the back door and crept inside.

  There was a body bag on the floor. It contained a human body, Charles had said. A familiar who carried a disease.

  She had a flash memory of being a Venator in Florence, when she’d been called Tomasia. With her team she’d spent her nights skipping over rooftops, hunting the renegade Silver Bloods who were trapped on this side of the gates. As Venators they had caught and killed all the remaining Croatan on earth—or so they had believed. Like Charles, she’d been certain that they were finally safe from harm, but then there was that incident at Roanoke. They’d lost an entire colony. Cordelia and Lawrence had always believed that the Silver Bloods had never been defeated, that the Coven had been comprom-ised, corrupted somehow. Charles thought it was ridiculous, of course. He put his faith in the gates. But what if Lawrence and Cordelia were right and Charles was wrong?

  Who—or more likely what—was in the body bag?

  Allegra unzipped the bag, her heart beating. Not sure what she was looking for, or what she expected to find. She had seen lifeless bodies of vampires who had been taken to Full Consumption before; had listened to Silver Bloods who spoke in the voices of her fallen friends, her dead comrades who had been sucked into becoming part of a monster, their immortal spirit trapped forever, chained to the devil spirit.

  But nothing had happened since Roanoke, and Charles had been convinced that perhaps the lost colony had simply decided to go underground, even with that message on the tree that said otherwise. The Silver Bloods were eradicated from their history books. Charles did not want old fears to plague their new lives in the New World.

  What was in the bag?

  Could it be?

  She didn’t even want to voice her fear.

  Finally, she pulled apart the opening to see.

  There was a girl in the bag. A human girl, her skin already gray. There were two small scars, almost unnoticeable, on her neck, which indicated she had been a vampire’s familiar.

  What disease did she carry, Allegra wondered. To die this way, so young and so alone. It was such a pity. The Red Bloods had short enough lives as it was.