Gates of Paradise (a Blue Bloods Novel)

“No, I never said that.” He shook his head. “I merely told him of my relationship with Gabrielle, and he must have assumed the rest. Why? What do you want to know?”


“We have the key to the gate,” Schuyler said, choosing her words carefully. “But we don’t know how to use it.”

Mendrion studied her thoughtfully. “If anyone might know, perhaps Titiana might. She was assigned to Gabrielle’s protection from the beginning, as I was. They were like sisters.”

“Where can we find her?”

“Truth be told, I haven’t seen her in centuries,” Mendrion said, holding his glass to Kingsley for another drop of whiskey.

“Why? What happened to her? A Silver Blood attack?” asked Schuyler.

Mendrion shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Have you heard of the ‘mortalize’ movement?”

Schuyler nodded. The mortalize movement was a growing trend among the Blue Bloods—vampires choosing to live as mortals—forgetting their history and passing as Red Bloods. She had heard that it happened a lot, especially during the long peaceful years when the Silver Bloods were all but forgotten.

“I fear that’s what’s happened to Titiana. She’s chosen to turn back against her vampire roots,” Mendrion said.

Schuyler tried not to feel too aghast. While it had been a burden when she’d first learned her true history and ancestry—she remembered the feeling in her stomach when she was first called to join the Committee—how she had refused to believe it was true—and how she wished she had come from a normal family, and not one where her mother was in a coma and her grandmother was her only link to her past. But to chuck it all away? To pretend to be what you were not? When there was so much at stake?

Mendrion gave Schuyler a sympathetic smile. “If it helps, I hear that she might be a student at Central Saint Martins. Some sort of fashion designer. Calls herself Tilly St. James.”

The housekeeper entered the room. “Dinner is ready.”

Lucas Mendrion turned to the dining room eagerly, but Schuyler cut him off. “I’m afraid I’ve quite lost my appetite. I do hope you understand,” she said coldly. Her meaning was clear.

There was no room for cowards at her table.





SIX


Mimi


rom the Underworld Express to the London tube, Mimi thought, holding on to the pole in the middle of the crowded commuter car. She had landed at Heathrow and was headed to Euston Station to transfer to another line that would take her to Edinburgh.

“All right, yeah?” Danel asked from the other side of the pole.

He had met her at the airport when she’d disembarked from her flight. It had been a somewhat unpleasant surprise. She’d thought she was to carry out her mission alone, but it appeared that the Dark Prince had other plans. She had merited a bodyguard, it seemed.

“Jet lag,” she told him. She had felt woozy when she’d crossed through Hell’s gate, and was shocked to find it had only been a few months since she and Jack had disappeared into the underworld. It was January and freezing. Thank God she still had access to her credit accounts. The first thing she did was buy a new winter coat.

“Jet lag,” Danel repeated with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. Up here, the scar on his face was gone. Was it an illusion? Mimi wondered. Like the disguise she had taken? Or was one’s true form only visible in the underworld? For this trip aboveground Mimi had dark hair and eyes. To the rest of the populace, the angel was merely a striking gentleman on the subway.

Mimi ignored him. Danel here with me, she sent Jack. I need to get rid of him.

Hold on, Jack replied. I’ll think of something. Get him off your tail.

No one sent to guard you? she asked.

Not yet.

She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted at that. It had been Abbadon’s idea to turn to the Light at the last minute during the War for Paradise, not hers. Abbadon, who had betrayed the Morningstar and won the battle for Michael in the end. She had only followed blindly, doing as her twin bid her, doing as she had always done. She hadn’t had a choice then. She hadn’t even questioned her actions or his.

What if she had crossed him back then, where would she be right now? What if she had said no? What if she had remained loyal to the Morningstar? Would they have won Paradise? If Lucifer had bested the Almighty, what then?

In the heat of battle, in the gore and the blood and the passion and the fear, Azrael had done as she was asked by her love: to turn against her general, against the Prince of Heaven. She was the one whose sword had pierced Lucifer’s armor. Not Abbadon’s. Hers. It was Abbadon’s will that had won the war for Michael, but it was Azrael’s sword that had made it a reality.

“Brooding again?” Danel asked. “You’re very quiet these days. Remembering the last battle, are you?”

She didn’t lie. “Yes.”

He nodded. “No one will ever forget what was done to us. It is time for our revenge. And this time, we shall triumph.” His knuckles turned white as he grasped the pole. “Swear it.”

“I…”