Mimi drew a pentagram around the two of them, making sure they were within the chalk lines.
“Dark Prince of the Silver Bloods, heed my call; I Azrael, command you to bring my enemy forward,” Mimi ordered in a loud, clear voice.
On the top level of the Repository, Schuyler Van Alen arrived in the main reading room, looking for Oliver. After sitting in the hotel suite for an hour, she decided she couldn’t just hang around and do nothing, or wait for him to calm down. She had to find Oliver and apologize. What she had asked for was wrong. She knew it now. She had asked for too much, and she wanted to ask for his forgiveness. He usually spent his weekend nights holed up in his cubicle at the Repository, which was the first place she decided to look after he didn’t pick up his cell phone or answer his BlackBerry text messages.
Bliss Llewellyn was sitting on one of the shabby couches in the main reception area.
“Hey,” Schuyler said. “Have you seen Oliver?”
Bliss nodded. “I think he’s back there. He just arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Cool.”
After what happened in Montserrat, Bliss had been a little embarrassed around Schuyler. “I’m, uh, waiting for Kingsley,” Bliss said. “He asked me to meet him here.”
Schuyler nodded, even though she hadn’t asked Bliss to explain her presence. She left Bliss by the entrance and walked quickly through the quiet room to find her friend. The Repository was crowded for a weekend night. Almost all the carrels were filled. Librarians were cataloging books on the shelves, and several senior members of The Committee were walking in for their weekly meeting. Schuyler saw Priscilla Dupont’s elegant white head among them, the Chief Warden was talking animatedly to a fellow Conclave member. The Elders disappeared into a private conference room, and Schuyler noticed Jack Force was sitting in his usual chair by the fire, reading a book.
Inside the pentagram, the flame on the candle flashed, and showed Mimi a vision of the Repository upstairs. Yes. Just as the spell had promised. There was Schuyler Van Alen, standing in the middle of the room.
Her victim had been drawn to the site.
Mimi felt a gladdening of the heart. This was it. This was really going to happen. She was going to be rid of that little cockroach once and for all. Schuyler had of course made a beeline for Jack as soon as she had entered. But no matter—it wouldn’t be long now.
Kingsley handed Mimi a silver knife.
It was the only way the spell would work: blood for blood. Mimi held out her right wrist; the blade felt cold on her skin. Her heart was thumping and she felt the first quivers of fear. Even though she was immortal, and the blood sacrifice would not hurt her, she still felt queasy thinking about what she had to do.
But the sight of Schuyler Van Alen reminded her what was at stake. The bond. Jack. Abbadon. She had to stop this before it was too late.
“I give thee my blood for your blood. O, Prince of Darkness. Hear me, hear my call. Destroy my enemy, once and for all,” Mimi chanted.
“NOW!” Kingsley called.
Mimi took a deep breath and slashed her wrist with the knife, opening up a vein and spilling her blood upon the candle, causing a black flame to shoot upward.
*
The last thing Bliss remembered was a massive explosion that ripped through the floor of the library, splitting it in two, a crack in the earth itself, and her nightmare came to life. Right in front of her was a dark mass with crimson eyes and silver pupils, roaring, struggling, leaping into life, covering the entire space with the buzzing of a thousand hornets, the agonies of a thousand tortured souls, and the ugly laughter of a deranged lunatic.
Bliss screamed and screamed and screamed.
Then everything went black.
THIRTYSEVEN
The smoke was suffocating. It was a dark, violet smoke, and smelled faintly of sulfur and acid. Schuyler opened her eyes to find them burning. Tears were falling from her cheeks although she was not crying. Something had happened—an explosion—it sounded like a rip in the universe. She looked around: the Repository was in disarray, whole shelves of books were toppled, and papers were strewn all about, as if a bomb had destroyed the place. There was debris from the ceiling, plaster and dust everywhere, shattered glass and broken pieces of wood. “Jack! Jack, where are you?” Schuyler asked, panicking. She had been standing right there, next to his chair, but his chair was nowhere to be seen. She felt blood dripping into her eyes and put a tentative hand on the crown of her head. Something had cut her, but it wasn’t a deep wound. The palms of her hands were scratched and bloody, and there was a tear in her jeans, but thankfully that was the extent of her injuries.
There was a cough, and Schuyler crawled over to the sound. Jack was lying underneath the reading table, momentarily stunned.
“I’m all right,” he said, struggling to sit up and wiping the smoke from his eyes. “What the hell happened?”