Gates of Paradise (a Blue Bloods Novel)

ingsley stood in the entrance to the living room and waited for the buzzing to stop. He was as handsome as ever, Mimi couldn’t help but notice, with his thick, dark, almost black hair and clear blue eyes. He scanned the crowd, and she saw him stop and stare right at her.

He knows, she realized. He can see through the disguise, through the illusion. He knows it’s me behind this mask.

She was elated and terrified at the same time.

What would he do?

They locked eyes for a long time. Then his gaze continued to sweep the room.

Would he buy it? she wondered. Would he believe her? He had to, for this to work. He had to believe she was false, that she was a traitor, that she was doing everything in her power to work against him and against the vampires. His life depended on it. If he believed she was still true to him, then all was lost.

She had to make him believe the lie—it was the only way to keep him safe. Mimi realized there was no other way out of this equation, this predicament Lucifer had designed for them. Maybe Jack had found a different way, but she did not know anymore. Something inside him had changed, she knew that now. Somehow, Jack had given up the fight.

She called out to him. Jack? Jack, are you there?

But there was nothing. Perhaps she was too late; perhaps he had already found Schuyler and was doing whatever it was he had decided to do.

Kingsley began to speak. “As you all know, we have long been engaged in a battle for control of the seven gates that guard the Paths of the Dead and keep the demons and their brethren in Hell. The Silver Bloods have been on a mission to destroy them all so that Lucifer may return from the underworld. So far, due to the courage, loyalty, and ferocity of our remaining Venator teams, the Gates of Hell remain standing, even as we have weathered heavy losses in the struggle against the Nephilim.”

He took a deep breath. “But that is not why I have called you all here today. We have since learned that the attacks on Hell’s gates are merely a distraction. For our enemy has focused his arsenal on something much more important. The Gate of Promise, Gabrielle’s gate, guards a bisected path. One path leads to the underworld, and the other path is a way back into Paradise.”

There was a collective gasp from the room.

Kingsley waited until they had settled down. “We have also learned that Lucifer has discovered a means of harnessing the godsfire, and he means to use this weapon to wage war upon Heaven itself.”

The room buzzed with fear and anticipation.

“We have to stop him,” Kingsley said. “We cannot allow the Dark Prince to reclaim what is not rightfully his.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” someone finally yelled out.

Kingsley smiled. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. Always the charmer, even as he was rallying the troops for battle. “We have two advantages in this fight. One: Lucifer will not be able to take Paradise without the key to the gate. I have dispatched a team of Venators to protect the gatekeeper and take her to a secure location. There is little chance of the Silver Bloods finding her; and without her, they will not be able to take the gate. The other is…”

“Stop!” Deming cried. “We can’t discuss our plans now. Not in front of her.” She pointed to Mimi, almost daring her to take out her sword. “This is not my sister! This is a traitor! Aperio Oris!” the Venator cried. Reveal yourself!

The mask slipped away and Mimi stood in the middle of the room. Her long lustrous platinum hair falling on her shoulders. A smirk on her face.

“She’s working for the Silver Bloods! She is no longer our Regent!” Deming yelled.

Mimi was trapped. The Venators had surrounded her before she could unsheathe her sword. She looked around—at the faces that stared at her with abject hatred and fear. They would kill her. Slowly. And they would enjoy it.

Now was the moment of truth. She looked at Kingsley and waited—waited to see whether he understood, whether he’d seen their “battle” for what it was. A charade, a ruse, a desperate deception to save her love and her Coven.

But the blue of his eyes turned icy, and she knew she had lost him, finally. That he had given up hoping. Her plan had worked.

He believed she was false.

He believed in the lie.

She didn’t know whether to rejoice or despair.

“Seize her,” he said.





FORTYONE


Tomasia (Florence, 1452)