The Van Alen Legacy

No. Of the Van Alens, only Lawrence was a gatekeeper. Remember the Order of the Seven. One gate in each family.

Leviathan and Corcovado. Schuyler understood now.

Yes. Your grandfather was the keeper of the Gate of Vengeance, Leviathan’s prison. With Lawrence’s murder of an innocent, the gate opened and released Leviathan. But what the Silver Bloods did not know was that the Gate of Vengeance was a solom bicallis. It can only be used once, and in one direction. Once Leviathan was freed, the path was closed to all.

The Silver Bloods will not rest. They will seek out the guardians and the gates, until all the Paths of the Dead are free once more.

Schuyler, it is up to you to find the remaining members of the Order, alert them of the danger, and keep the gates secure. As long as the gates hold, Lucifer cannot cross from the underworld to this world. That is the Van Alen Legacy, and now it is yours. That is the Van Alen Legacy, and now it is yours.

You mean, it is ours.

Alas, that is not to be. I cannot help you in your quest. I have to find Charles. He was lost, somewhere between worlds, when the Silver Bloods let loose that subvertio. Our destiny is intertwined. He needs me more than ever now. There is something broken in the universe that only we can fix together . . . which is part of your journey as well.

“Mother, you are leaving me. Again. Now that I need you the most,” Schuyler cried, shocked at her mother’s news and the enormity of the responsibility that lay before her. Find the gates? Find the guardians? Save the world? How was she supposed to do that alone?

“I am not leaving. I am always with you,” Allegra said, holding Schuyler in her arms. “My daughter, I am in you. Never forget that.”

“So that was really you, then, with the sword? In my dreams?” Schuyler asked.

“Of course.” Allegra smiled gently, then stood up. “Now listen closely. Leviathan has shown his hand in Paris. We know he is looking to open the gate formerly located in Lutetia. The Gate of Time. Of this I am sure, for I was there when Michael and I made him keeper. It was guarded by Tiberius Gemellus. Find him. Secure the gate.”





FIFTY-THREE

Mimi


When Mimi left school that afternoon, she found Kingsley waiting for her in front of the Duchesne gates, among the usual collection of scruffy-looking boys waiting for their private-school girlfriends. Except Kingsley didn’t look scruffy at all. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine: teeth gleaming, dark hair shiny and combed, his cheeks freshly shaven. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white button-down shirt and battered blue jeans. The rock star look intact.

“What are you doing here?” Mimi demanded, looking around anxiously. “Jack might see you!” Not that she cared all that much. Maybe her twin would even get jealous, seeing them together. If Jack was even capable of any real feeling when it came to her. Who knew what he thought in that thick skull of his anymore?

Kingsley ignored her and pulled her close. He kissed her soundly in front of a group of titillated freshmen. “Force. Get in the limo.” Mimi saw a shiny car the length of a city block idling by the curb. A uniformed chauffeur held the door open.

Mimi had always harbored a secret love for limousines. It was tacky to use one in the city, lest you run the risk of looking like a tourist or like you were off to prom. But this one shone with a wicked gleam. She had to admit it: the guy traveled in style.

She gave Kingsley a look, then slid inside. He stepped in behind her and closed the door. He raised the driver’s partition until it closed all the way. The windows were tinted. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone. The car was so wide it was like being in a moving living room. The carpet beneath her feet was lush, and the car seats were as wide as a bed.

“Now, where were we?” Kingsley asked, leaning over so that he was practically on top of her, one hand underneath her shirt and the other tugging the waistband of her skirt.

“Wait. Wait,” Mimi gasped, putting a hand against his chest and pushing him away. And she thought she was fast. Kingsley was like the world’s most talented make-out artist. She had barely gotten in the car and she was practically undressed.

“Sweetheart, I’ve waited all day,” he sighed, burying his face in her neck. But he did as she asked and pulled his hand away from her thigh. He composed himself and leaned back against the seat. “There. Better?”

Mimi tried not to look too flattered. It was nice to be wanted. Kingsley and his voracious appetite. “Where are we going? Or should I say, where are you taking me?” she asked, as the car made a left onto FDR Drive.

In answer, Kingsley held up several plane tickets. “Paris. The Lennox boys are already at JFK. We leave tonight.”

“We?”