The Van Alen Legacy

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bliss said gently. The Force twins were finally going to be bonded, and she could imagine how much that had to hurt. Mimi had even asked Bliss to be one of her bondsmaids, which was unexpected since they hardly spoke to each other anymore. Bliss had said yes to be polite.

“And you? I . . . I’m sorry we never got to talk about what happened to Dylan. I can only imagine how terrible . . .” Schuyler’s voice trailed off and her eyes grew bright. “I’m really sorry I haven’t been there for you. I didn’t want you to be alone after that, but we didn’t have much of a choice.”

“It’s okay. I’m all right. I really missed you guys. It’s been . . . kind of crazy for me. . . .” she said. Inside Bliss’s head a familiar voice said, Tell her I say hello, which made Bliss smile. “Anyway, sometimes I feel like he’s still with me.”

“He’ll always be with you,” Schuyler said, grasping for Bliss’s hand and squeezing it.

Bliss leaned over so they could speak more intimately. She could feel the darkness coming, a sensation not unlike reaching the precipice of a roller coaster. Hanging over the abyss, right before the drop.

“Listen, Sky, I need to tell you something. There’s something wrong with me. I can’t talk about it too much, or whatever is wrong with me will put you in a lot of danger. But I’m taking this class . . . Ancient Civilizations . . . and I was reading about Rome . . . and I started to remember some stuff . . . stuff that happened before, and I think it might”—she was going to say, “might be happening again,” but she never had a chance because Schuyler’s iPhone began to ring.

“Hold on. God, I’m so sorry. Bliss, I have to take it. It’s my mother’s hospital,” Schuyler said, checking the number. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is Schuyler Van Alen. . . . What? Sorry? Yes . . . yes of course . . . I’ll come right now.”

“What’s going on?” asked Bliss.

“It’s—it’s my mother. She’s awake! She’s asking for me. Bliss, I’m sorry, I have to go!”

“Allegra? Allegra’s awake? Wait—Schuyler! Let me come with you!”

But it was too late. Her friend had gone so fast it was as if she had disappeared into thin air.





FORTY-NINE

Mimi


Outside the window the sun was rising over the Hudson. Mimi shrugged on a robe, swinging her legs off the bed so she could take a better look. Or so she just told him. She felt . . . confused. And she didn’t like it.

She patted the pockets of the robe for her cigarettes, then remembered she had quit smoking. Somehow chewing gum wasn’t the same. She would have to console herself with a tapping of her fingers on the glass. Outside, the sky was a brilliant red and orange, the purple darkness and the yellow of the smog mixing with the horizon. But Mimi was bored with a picture of a pretty sunrise, or even sunsets, for that matter: she found them clichéd, hokey, predictable. Anyone could like a sunset. And she wasn’t anyone; she was Mimi Force.

“Come back here.”

Half invitation, half command.

She turned. Kingsley Martin was lying on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. Arrogant bastard. Rio had been a mistake. The torrent of emotions after coming so close to the Watcher, only to have her slip away . . . the two of them had met up later that night at their hotel. Well. What’s done was done. She couldn’t change that.

She had been far from home and feeling low. But she had no excuse for the last twenty-four hours. Okay, so after Kingsley had told her his whole sad, terrible story, and shared the burden of his secret, they had closed down the bar downstairs, and then everything had felt inevitable after that. Hooking up once was a mistake. Twice? Twice was a pattern. The Mandarin Oriental was one of Mimi’s favorite places to stay, and the one in New York was especially lovely. If only she could convince herself she was here to enjoy the view.

“Well? I’m waiting,” his silky voice announced.

“You think you can order me around?” she said, throwing her hair over her shoulders: a practiced move that she made appear unrehearsed. She knew he found the sight of her hair swinging over her back enticing.

“I know I can.”

She moved closer. “Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Kingsley only yawned. He tugged at the edge of her robe, pulling it halfway off her shoulders, before she stopped him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m getting bonded in two weeks, that’s what’s wrong,” she snapped, belting her robe tightly around her waist. She had asked him that night in Rio if this had happened between them before. And she had asked him again last night. If they had ever been together . . . if . . . if . . . if . . . Of course Kingsley refused to answer. He had been maddening. Do your exercises, he had said. Do your regressions. He had teased and mocked her and refused to answer her question.