The Van Alen Legacy

“But there must be something.”


“Oh, there is.” Dr. Pat put down the clipboard and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Isolation is not good for the immortal soul,” she said. “You must be among your own kind—you have been away too long. Your body has become tense, toxic.”

“That’s it?” Schuyler asked. “That’s the reason why I’ve been so sick lately? Because I’ve been away from other vampires?”

“Strange as it sounds, yes.” Dr. Pat nodded, tapping on her stethoscope. “The blood calls to same. You have been alone, stressed, and alienated from vampire society. My nephew tells me you went to the Bal des Vampires in Paris. Did you feel better when you were there?”

Schuyler thought about it. She hadn’t noticed in the adrenaline of the moment, but Dr. Pat was right. During the time when she was surrounded by Blue Bloods she had experienced none of the uncontrollable shaking and trembling. Except, of course, for those few minutes she had spent alone in the dungeon. A hundred feet below-ground, away from everyone, until Jack arrived. The tremors had returned once she and Oliver had hit the road.

“They say no man is an island,” Dr. Pat mused. “It’s the same for Blue Bloods.”

“But what about my grandfather? Lawrence was exiled. He lived alone for many, many years, away from his people. Yet he never exhibited any of my symptoms,” Schuyler argued.

“Your grandfather, as I recall, was an Enmortal. A rare breed. Capable of long periods of isolation from the community. He chose exile because he knew he would be able to handle it. Physically and mentally.”

Schuyler absorbed the diagnosis. “It just . . . seems . . . too easy an explanation,” she finally said.

“You know, Schuyler, the Red Bloods have a word for it too. Homesickness isn’t just a state of mind. It has physical symptoms as well. Your vampire self makes you stronger and faster than any human being. But the vampire in you also exaggerates every human ailment you might feel. You’ve got the best of both worlds, so to speak.”





FORTY-ONE

Mimi


Two weeks after the White Vote was called, Mimi found a note in her Conclave e-mail asking her to visit Forsyth at the Repository in the Force Tower that afternoon. Her last class was a free period, so she finished early and took a cab.

She had to be at the Repository anyway. The other evening she had been looking for her favorite fountain pen and thought to rummage around Charles’s study. She remembered she had left it there the last time she had needed a quiet space to do her homework. Her father’s office was as tidy as always, with nothing on his desk but a Tiffany clock and a desk calendar. Mimi had checked drawers and cabinets, but did not find her treasured Montblanc.

She had sat in his leather swivel desk chair and spun, looking around the room. A few unmarked cassettes shoved toward the back of a shelf caught her eye. She stood up and examined them. What was Charles doing with such old audio equipment? They were marked RH: Audio: Ven. Rep. Repository of History Audio Archives. Venator Reports. Usually tapes from the Repository came with written transcripts, but Mimi couldn’t find any. She turned the tape over to see which Venator had filed them. MARTIN. These were Kingsley’s reports, from his assignment two years ago. The one that had sent him to Duchesne.

What were they doing in Charles’s office? They belonged in the Repository. And if Mimi wanted to listen to them, she would have to borrow an old tape recorder from the archives. She knew the Conduits were uploading everything onto digital files now, but they had obviously missed these. She had put the tapes in her pocket and taken one final look around the room. Where was Charles anyway? What had happened to him? Jack was convinced he wasn’t dead. If Michael’s spirit was gone from Earth, they would know for certain, he had argued.

At last night’s meeting, the Conclave had voted to send Venators after the missing former Regis, and a team was being assembled. She knew her brother was disappointed not to have been picked for the assignment. But Forsyth had been adamant: they needed the twins here, he said. They couldn’t leave the Coven so unprotected.

As she walked into the Force Tower that afternoon, she wondered what the senator wanted to talk to her about. Forsyth had never sought out her company before, and they had not spoken about her objection to his crowning.

“You wanted to see me?” Mimi asked, walking into the light-filled corner office after Forsyth’s secretary announced her arrival. She noticed that he had set up shop in the same office Lawrence had chosen when he was Regis. Talk about overconfidence. Charles had used the one in the old building under Block 122.