The Van Alen Legacy

“You’re not deserting the team, are you, Force?” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I have everything you need. Got you a new Venator pack. Of course, it doesn’t come with those impractical boots of yours, but I’m sure you can find a replacement in the City of Lights.”


Mimi buttoned her blouse. “You’ve got to be joking. Turn this car around right now. I’m not going to Paris.”

“Why not?”

He really was a piece of work, this one, she thought. Did she have to say it? “Don’t you remember? I’m getting bonded next Sunday. Duh.”

“Are you?”

“What are you getting at? Jack is my . . .” Soul mate seemed cheesy to say. “He’s my twin. We belong together. We always have.”

Kingsley nodded as if he were seriously considering her argument. “Right. And that’s why you’ve been sneaking into my hotel room every night for the last week.”

Every night! Had it been every night? Surely he was wrong. Surely she had spent one night on her own. She had been in denial. This had gone too far. She was cutting it off right here. “You know the Code,” she said. “That’s just the way it is. I can’t deny our bond.”

“Bonds are made to be broken,” he said. “Just like rules.”

“Spoken like a true Silver Blood,” she snapped.

Kingsley’s face became grave. “You know my secret. You know what we face, the enormity of our task if what Charles suspects is true. The team needs you. Come with us.”

Mimi flushed. She had never felt this way in her life. In all of her lives. Loving Abbadon was all she’d ever known. But then Kingsley walked in and turned her every assumption upside down. But did he really want her? Did he really care for her? Did he love her? Or did he just want her around for his amusement?

Kingsley smiled at her, and she knew it was a smile of triumph, the smile of a boy who always got what he wanted. Sure, he wanted her right now, but what happened when he didn’t? She knew what the bond was like, the dedication, the commitment to each other and the service they rendered to the community as a whole. The vampires were fading, that much she knew. The Blue Bloods needed them now more than ever. She thought of all the things she and Jack had accomplished together: they had defeated Lucifer in Rome, they had founded the New World. . . .

She was Azrael. She was true to her word. She would not waver from what was asked of her. Who did she think she was—her brother? Inconstant, indecisive, unable to make a choice between foolishness and duty?

“No, Kingsley. I can’t.” She shook her head. “Let me out of here. Stop the car.”

Kingsley looked at her for a long time. Then he cleared his throat and picked up the interior phone and asked the driver to pull to the side. “As you wish.”





FIFTY-FOUR

Bliss


New York Presbyterian visiting hours were over when Bliss arrived, not that it even mattered. Allegra Van Alen had checked out by the time she got there. “But what do you mean she’s gone? I just got a call that she was awake. . . . I’m her daughter!” Bliss cried.

“Schuyler was here an hour ago,” the nurse said, looking confused. “She walked out with Allegra.”

“I mean, I’m her other daughter. Oh, never mind,” Bliss said, stomping off and shaking raindrops all over the floor.

She’s gone. Allegra was gone. She didn’t even stick around long enough to talk to me. She doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t even know I’m alive. Do you hear that, Father? she screamed inside her head. Where are you, anyway?

But it was as if the Visitor knew they would not find Allegra at the hospital. Sometime during the traffic-clogged drive uptown, he had retreated again.

Bliss went back home to an empty apartment as usual. She nuked a potato for dinner. Even if she didn’t feel really hungry anymore—try ever—it was hard to break the habit of having three meals a day.

After taking a few bites she tossed the potato in the trash and went to her room to try on her new dress. Schuyler was right. She shouldn’t have bought it. It was too tight in the chest and too short in the hem. And the color wasn’t right; the deep purple shade made her look paler than usual, and clashed with her red hair. She’d had sale goggles. She took off the dress and crumpled it into a bag so that she could take it to a consignment shop. Hopefully she would get some of her money back. Ever since the bankruptcy, Forsyth had been stingy with her allowance.

Allegra was her mother. . . . The truth of it hurt—like when you overhear what your friends really think about you. She called Schuyler again, but there was no answer.

Bliss closed her eyes and went to the top of the Cloisters, looking for her friend. She had to tell somebody. But instead of seeing Dylan, she saw someone else.

The man in the white suit. The Visitor. Lucifer. Her father.

“Hello, daughter.”

“Where have you been? I went up to the hospital, but she wasn’t there anymore.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “She was too fast for us. She always was. But no matter. We shall catch up to her soon enough. It’s nice up here. What do you call this place?”

“The Cloisters,” Bliss said.