Gates of Paradise (a Blue Bloods Novel)

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.





THIRTYEIGHT


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,” 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.