Meet me at the Palace bar. In an hour.
Lawrence was dressed in his usual tweeds and heavy woolens when they met him at the bar at the Copacabana Palace. His face was red, and sweat was dribbling down his forehead. Schuyler thought maybe he wouldn’t complain so much about the weather if he were dressed for it.
“You were supposed to remain in New York,” Lawrence said sternly as a greeting. They took seats at the bar and Lawrence ordered a round of drinks. A Bellini for himself and virgin pi?a coladas for his granddaughter and her Conduit. Even if alcohol didn’t affect the vampires, Lawrence liked to abide by Red Blood rules and frowned upon “underage” drinking.
“But grandfather . . . I heard you were in trouble.” She squirmed in her seat. She felt relieved that Lawrence was all right, but her grandfather’s steely gaze made her recent actions feel impulsive and foolish. More and more it appeared her trip was unnecessary and unnecessarily dramatic.
“That’s news to me,” Lawrence said, bringing out his pipe.
“But why haven’t you returned my sendings then?” Schuyler asked. “I’ve been worried.”
Lawrence sucked on his pipe before replying. “I didn’t hear them. I’ve heard nothing from you until today,” he said, blowing smoke into the air.
The waitress returned with their drinks, and the three of them clinked glasses. “There’s no smoking here, sir,” she told him.
“Of course not.” Lawrence winked as he continued to smoke, conjuring a silver ashtray on the table.
The waitress looked confused and walked away, just another victim of the glom. Lawrence turned to Schuyler. “Did you do the exercise as I taught you? Concentrate on locating my spirit?”
“Yes, of course,” Schuyler said a bit impatiently.
Oliver piped in. “Telepathic messages are encrypted, right? Could someone have—I dunno—subverted them? Or erased them somehow?”
“That’s not how it works,” Schuyler said. “They’re not like e-mails sent to a network. Using the glom is a direct line to someone’s consciousness. It can’t be . . . messed with. Right, Grandfather?”
“I’m not sure. You may have a point, young man,” Lawrence said thoughtfully as he sipped his drink. “Using telepathy depends on a vampire’s ability to tap into the ‘otherworld,’ what the humans call the paranormal. The source of our power comes from the great divide, the place where the usual boundaries between the material and spiritual worlds fall away.”
“And that’s Corcovado; the crossing is here,” Schuyler said.
“Yes,” her grandfather said, his frown lines deepening.
“And Kingsley? Have you seen him?” Schuyler asked.
“We’re in touch.”
“So he hasn’t disappeared either.”
Her grandfather looked puzzled. “No he hasn’t. We’ve been in contact the entire time.”
Schuyler shook her head. “It’s just . . . we heard . . .” she said weakly. “That you and Kingsley . . . never mind.”
Lawrence continued to look mystified as he knocked back his drink.
Oliver excused himself from the table to answer his cell phone, and Schuyler took the opportunity to ask her grandfather something that had been troubling her for weeks.
But the answer was not what she was hoping for.
Lawrence looked directly at his granddaughter, under arched eyebrows. “There is no way. Suppose Jack breaks his bond, there is no recourse for him. It is against our laws. The Code of the Vampires. If his twin invokes the covenant, there will be a trial. If he is found guilty, he will be condemned. Burned. If he chooses to flee rather than face judgment, his own twin must bring him to justice.”
Schuyler’s breath caught in her throat. “But Allegra . . . she’s alive.”
“Allegra is practically dead at her own hands. Charles argued that the sentence could not be carried out while she was unconscious. But once she wakes up, she is subject to the laws, as well as he.”
“Then why does he keep hoping that she will wake up one day?” Schuyler asked, thinking of Charles kneeling by her mother’s bedside.
“Charles refuses to acknowledge the breaking. But he will have to. If she wakes up, the Coven will insist on a trial.”
“But you are Regis. You could save her,” Schuyler insisted. You could save Jack.
“No one is above the Code, Schuyler. Not even your mother,” Lawrence said, and Schuyler could swear she heard anguish in his voice.
“So Jack will lose his life one way or another.”
Lawrence cleared his throat and tapped the ashes from his pipe onto the crystal ashtray. “If he breaks the bond, even if he manages to escape trial, his spirit will diminish. There is no death for our kind, but he will be fully aware of his paralysis. Fortunately he has never been tempted to break his vows. Abbadon is a flirt and a rogue, but he is loyal at his core. He will not sever ties to Azrael so easily. But Schuyler, tell me, why all this interest?”