The Gates of Paradise (18 page)

inn’s dorm was actually a college house called Blackstone. It was much more lavish than Schuyler was expecting; she’d pictured bunk beds in an anonymous cinder block room, especially after seeing the art building. But Blackstone was a beautiful brick building that looked almost like a cathedral.

They entered into a student lounge, which had a fireplace and a grand piano. “This is college?” Schuyler asked. “Or Downton Abbey?”

Finn laughed. “It is here. This place is great! You should see my room.”

She led them to an apartment with two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. “I share the kitchen and the bathroom, but the bedroom is all mine,” she said. “We can decorate them however we want.”

Schuyler let out a gasp when Finn turned on the lights. It wasn’t because the room was a mess, even though it was. No, her surprise was because the walls were covered with paintings of someone who looked so much like her that it had to be Allegra. “Did your—our—dad do these?” she asked.

“Every last one,” Finn said. “They’re pretty much all I have left of him. Go ahead, take a look if you want. They’re pretty great, right? Did you ever see the reviews of his show in
Artforum
or
Art in America
? He could have been something if he’d lived.”

“I haven’t. I’d love to see them one day,” Schuyler said as she stood close enough to the paintings to see the fine brushstrokes, the swirl of the paint, to smell the…Wait a minute. That smell…it couldn’t be.…

“Oliver, come here,” she whispered, while Finn was puttering around the little kitchen to rustle up some drinks. “I smell blood.”

“Where?” he asked. “You’re not telling me your sister is some kind of serial killer, are you?” he said jokingly.

“No, in the paintings!” Schuyler said. “I think Ben might have mixed his own blood in with the paint.”

“Gross,” Oliver said. “What is that, like a Vito Acconci fur, felt, and seed sort of thing?”

“It’s not exactly common, but people have done it. You know what this means, don’t you?”

Oliver gave her a curious look, but then Finn came back in the room. “Cool, right?” she said. “I always used to wonder who he was painting, but I guess that mystery’s been solved. That’s your mother, isn’t it? You look just like her except for the dark hair.”

“I think so,” Schuyler said.

“What was she like?” Finn asked eagerly. “My mom always told me it was some sort of tragic love story.”

“Well, I guess you could say it was tragic because he died, and after I was born, my mom was in a coma for almost all of my life,” Schuyler said. “Your mom wasn’t—angry? I sort of figured—”

“Mom’s a true romantic,” Finn said. “She was pretty crazy about my dad, but she knew the whole time that he was in love with someone else. That’s why she lied and told him she wasn’t pregnant anymore, so he could go and be with her and not feel guilty.”

“And she told you all of this?” Schuyler was amazed. She’d spent her whole life in the dark, and here was this girl whose mother apparently kept no secrets. What a different life she must have led.

“I guess it was really important to her that I grew up with good feelings about my dad since I didn’t get to know him at all. You’re so lucky,” Finn said suddenly.

“Lucky? How?”

“He loved your mom,” Finn said simply. “Oh, he was fond of mine, sure, but it wasn’t the same.”

Schuyler shook her head. “No, you were the lucky one. Your mother loved him so much that she let him go because she wanted him to be happy. I bet she was always there for you, wasn’t she?”

“Every moment.” Finn didn’t deny it.

“Decca showed me all the photos—the birthday parties…”

“Yeah, they were pretty epic.”

“If your mom hadn’t lied, our dad would never have left her. He would have done the right thing. He was a good guy.”

“Even if he was, he’s still dead,” Finn said suddenly.

“Yeah.” Schuyler had to agree. Then she realized—she wasn’t alone in her grief—in her missing him. Finn was in the same boat. Here was someone who loved and missed him too, and who’d never known him. Her sister.

“Besides”—Finn shrugged—“Mom turned out to be right about the whole romance thing. She met this fabulous guy when I was twelve, and I’m really close to my stepdad. It’s almost enough to make me believe in true love.”

“Even if you haven’t found it yourself?” Oliver asked with a smile.

Wait a minute—was Schuyler seeing what she thought she was seeing? Oliver Hazard-Perry, blushing? She supposed it made sense. Finn did look a little bit like her, and more important, she was awesome—confident, funny, smart. Normal. Oliver deserved someone like her.

“Not yet,” Finn said, returning the smile with one of her own.

Schuyler could see where this was going, and it made her happy. But it also made her miss Jack desperately. Could it really be this easy for two people to find each other? Why couldn’t it have been that easy for her and Jack? Would she ever see him again? Would they ever be together?

“Earth to Sky,” Oliver said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

“Sorry. It’s all just so overwhelming.”

“Tell me about it!” Finn agreed. “But I’m just so glad you found me!”

“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.

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.

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,” Malcolm 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.”