The Van Alen Legacy

“One more step and I’ll have your blood,” the faceless horror croaked. What was not charred or blistered on her body was bone, a sickening sight.

Mimi’s hand twitched a little. She should not have put her blade away. Did she have time? Where the hell was the rest of the team? Had Kingsley heard her? Where were the boys when she needed them? Why had she strayed from the group; Venator training taught that you always stayed in twos. How stupid of her to have followed those footprints. . . . It had trap written all over it.

Would she have enough time to arm up before Nan made a move on her? No time to think—she unsheathed it—but even as she did, in that same moment, Mimi found herself locked in a death grip with the half-dead Silver Blood.

The monster who had once been the most sought-after hostess in New York was ferociously strong, and as much as Mimi kicked and clawed, the demon would not release her hold. Mimi could feel its foul breath on her neck, knew it would not be long before its fangs would puncture skin and draw her blood. . . .

No!

She slammed the warden backward against the wall with all her might. But Nan had gotten the upper hand and knocked Mimi against the concrete floor. It would have felled many a vampire, but Azrael was made of a tougher substance. Still, it made her dizzy, and she could feel a crack in her skull and the wound bleeding out. . . . She was losing consciousness. . . .

At that moment Kingsley appeared. Mimi thought she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. “Croatan!” he ordered. “Absed! Absed abysso! ” Go back to Hell! With a mighty thrust of his sword, he stabbed it straight through the heart.

There was a hissing sound, like the wheel of a tire deflating—somewhat anticlimactic until the figure suddenly burst into a bright silver flame, a momentarily dazzling, blinding light, and the temperature in the room rose to solar levels, as the spirit collapsed into itself in a supernova.

Mimi shielded her eyes until it was safe to open them. She thought the warden would have disappeared, but the corpse was still there. Only now there was nothing menacing about it. Just a mere heap of bones.

Kingsley wrenched out his sword from the pile, and it transformed back into the short jackknife he carried in his pocket. “Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling beside Mimi. He took a look at her head wound, his hands gentle as he held his thumbs against her temples and slowly massaged them. “Cracked like an egg, but you’ll be okay. It’s already starting to heal.”

“How did she live? I cut her in two,” Mimi choked.

“You didn’t stab her through the heart. It’s the only way. It was my fault. I should have made sure. I thought you knew,” Kingsley sighed. “Lawrence was right. The Conclave doesn’t bother to teach anything anymore, and the new crop of vampires has forgotten too many things.”

“I thought that was just a myth . . . you know, like in the movies, when humans think they can kill us with a stake through the heart,” she said.

“There is always some truth to a myth,” Kingsley said kindly. “The Conspiracy saw to that. So that the Red Bloods feel no need to look for the actual truth.”

“Well, someone should have told me. I owe you one,” Mimi said. “What took you so long anyway?”

“We found two dead Silver Bloods out back,” he said. “But those had been taken care of properly. What did you find?”

In answer, Mimi stood up. “I found something. Someone. In the bathtub.” She led him to the room and showed him the body.

When Kingsley saw the small figure in the flannel pajamas, he crossed himself. They exchanged a look of anguish and sorrow. “Do it,” he said. Mimi nodded.

Slowly she turned the body over.

It was Jordan Llewellyn. Mimi recognized the girl’s gray eyes. They were open and staring at the ceiling. In death she looked even younger than her eleven years. She was wearing a grubby pair of pajamas—the same ones she had been wearing the night she was abducted. From the girl’s sallow complexion, Mimi knew without having to be told: every drop of Jordan’s blood had been drained. Full consumption.

Mimi felt as if she was going to throw up. Nothing had prepared her for this. This was so much worse than almost being taken by the half-dead warden. She had joined the Venators to find adventure, to get out of New York. . . . She had never once thought they would fail in their search. Never. And to know they had come so close, only to be so very far. . . . She was not prepared to see the dead body of a child. It was an image that she would carry with her forever.

Mimi was a confident person. She had an unshakable belief in herself and in her abilities, and she had believed in Kingsley’s power to find Jordan. She had believed he would not let them down. She looked at him now, with the deepest sense of betrayal.