Gates of Paradise (a Blue Bloods Novel)

“Is that wise?”


“Who am I to judge? I’m just a lowly Conduit, not a Venator. But strategically, I think it’s wise. We don’t know when the Silver Bloods plan to ambush the gate, but this way, we can have the upper hand. We can prepare.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “So tell me what’s been happening here? Did you have a happy little reunion with your grandmother? Was she round and soft? Did she bake you cookies?”

Schuyler punched him in the arm. “Don’t make fun! No, there weren’t any cookies.” She rolled her eyes. As far as she knew, neither of Oliver’s grandmothers were the cookie-baking type either. Doro Samuels had worked to preserve Grand Central Terminal and Central Park, while Eleanor Hazard-Perry was a children’s programming pioneer who taught kids how to read using tactics gleaned from vampire skills of instant memorization.

“She was cool, a grande dame, sort of like Cordelia but, you know…warmer,” Schuyler said.

“Warm-blooded.” Oliver smiled. “And did you find your dad?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Come on.”

The grass at the graveyard was lush and green, almost too alive, Schuyler thought. It was like a constant reminder of everything that was gone, everything lost. She’d brought a small bouquet of calla lilies, and when they found the headstone, she set them down.

“Sky, I’m so sorry,” Oliver said. “I know this wasn’t how you hoped it would turn out.” He put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him as she read the headstone.

STEPHEN BENDIX CHASE

BELOVED SON AND HUSBAND

The headstone didn’t tell the whole story of his life, Schuyler thought, thinking not only of herself but of the sister she had yet to meet. Beloved son, husband, and father.

He had returned to his family in a box.

“Cancer,” Schuyler told Oliver. “Stupid old cancer. He wasn’t killed by a vampire. He wasn’t killed by Charles out of revenge, as I’d feared for a while. He was just another young person taken too early.”

Decca had told her the whole story: how Ben and Allegra had gone back to New York and how, in the end, Allegra had called them so they could say good-bye to their son. The disease had been swift and brutal. When they returned from the funeral, they discovered that they had a grandchild, as his ex-girlfriend had showed up at their doorstep with a baby. Renny had told Ben she was pregnant to get him to marry her, but when she admitted it was a fake pregnancy, he’d left to be with Allegra. Only it wasn’t fake: Renny had figured out that he would never love her like he loved Allegra, and she’d freed him to be with her.

“Noble of her, I suppose,” Decca had said, though Schuyler could tell that until she’d learned about Schuyler, she’d have preferred that Ben had stayed with the ex, Renny.

“Allegra was so distraught. She kept saying it was all her fault, that she had tried to get him to see a doctor for months, that he’d been coughing up blood but had insisted nothing was wrong. Then Cordelia wrote us this letter not long after, and we always assumed Allegra had died of a broken heart.”

It was true in a way, Schuyler thought, remembering her mother lying motionless in a hospital bed.

“What was he like?” Schuyler asked.

“Ben?” Decca sighed. “I know mothers are biased, but Ben was one of the good ones, you know? He had it—whatever it was. He was so handsome, and everyone loved him, and he was always so kind—I think that’s what mattered more—not his good looks—but that he was a good soul. I don’t mean nice or polite, but someone who had a strong moral compass, someone with character. He was privileged, of course, but he wasn’t spoiled. He was such a generous person. Like I said, he loved your mother so much. She was everything to him. It was a shame that he never knew his daughters. He would have been such a good father. He adored children.”

Schuyler knelt down at the grave and ran her hand over the headstone. The granite was cool under her fingers and sparkled in the sunlight, glinting gray and pink. I wish I’d had a chance to know you. I wish that so much.