The Van Alen Legacy

In the darkness of the glom, Mimi unleashed the full powers of her transformation. She could feel her wings sprout, could feel her horns grow, curling above her forehead. This was her true form as the dark and terrible Azrael, the Angel of Death. These were the wings of the Apocalypse, the harbinger of Hades, of sorrow and ruin. All this she encompassed in her soul and her being.

With all of her strength, she threw herself against the Morningstar, pinning him against the black rock, but her claws found no leverage, and soon she was simply holding a pile of dust. Lucifer would not be taken so easily. But Schuyler was free. I owed you one, Schuyler Van Alen. Now we are even, Mimi thought.

“Not bad, Force.”

She turned.

Behind the gate, Kingsley and Leviathan were caught in a stalemate. The demon had his spear at Kingsley’s neck, and Kingsley had his sword poised at the demon’s heart. Neither would give an inch, Mimi saw. But maybe if . . .

“Stay right where you are, Force,” Kingsley said slowly. His handsome face turned to her behind the iron bars. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Why? What are you going to do?” Mimi cried, although she already knew. She could see the white aura that began to surround him. He was calling up a subvertio, fashioning a white hole of death.

“I am going to destroy the path,” Kingsley said. “It’s the only way.”

“Don’t.” Mimi shook her head, her eyes glistening.

Kingsley looked at her with the utmost gentleness. “Do not cry for me, Azrael. Do not waste your tears. You made your decision. And this is mine. Sacrifice seems to be my destiny. A funny thing for a selfish man, isn’t it? They always called me weak back then . . . but maybe weakness is a strength of a kind.”

Mimi pressed her face against the bars, as close as she could get to him.

She couldn’t bear for him to go without knowing what she had been about to do—she had been planning to leave Jack to be with him. She had meant to forsake her bond and throw her destiny to the wind. I can’t, she was going to say. I can’t do this. I’m coming with you.

“Kingsley, I . . .”

Kingsley smiled his Cheshire smile. And without another word, he called up the white darkness—the subvertio—a spell that unlocked what could not be unlocked, that destroyed what could not be destroyed.

There was a deep rumbling, a shaking, like the strongest earthquake, and the iron gate crumbled, and the path began to melt. The demon shrieked, but Kingsley just looked at Mimi the entire time.

Azrael . . .

In a flash, they disappeared. The path, the gate, the demon, and the Silver Blood.

Kingsley was gone. Trapped in Hell for eternity.

Mimi collapsed to the ground, as if her heart had imploded in her chest.





SIXTY-FIVE

Schuyler


She had done it. She had brought herself and Jack back from the glom. They were back in the church, lying a few feet away from each other. She coughed, spitting out toxic black dust. She was covered in soot, like a chimney sweep. She wondered if this was a consequence of what had happened in the glom or if it was part of the Silver Blood mist that had blanketed the church during the attack.

“Jack . . . Jack . . .” she whispered, crawling to his side. He was bleeding from the hole in his back. . . . The demon’s spear was corrupted. It carried the black fire within it. Jack was dying. This was the nightmare that had plagued her for months . . . the same despair that washed over her now. She was losing him.

She turned him over so she could cradle him in her arms. Her tears fell on his cheeks. He could not hear her.

“He needs the Caeremonia. Red Blood,” said a voice from the other side of the church. “It is poison to the Croatan and will deflect the fire. We need to find a human.” Mimi Force was still wearing her bonding dress, but like Schuyler, she was covered in black soot, her face was bruised, and her eyes were red. She walked slowly toward Schuyler. “I know it will work. Kingsley told me,” Mimi said, leaving the church to find a human who could possibly save her brother.

But there was no time. There was no time even to use the Call. Then Schuyler realized . . .

“I’m human,” she said. “I’m a half-blood.” Half of her was vampire, but the other half was mortal and weak but filled with vibrant life—the life that vampires needed so badly for their own. It was this half, this side of her that would save her love.

“Jack, listen to me,” she whispered, leaning down. “Listen, you need to drink. . . . You need to drink from me.”

Jack opened his eyes slowly and stared into hers. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yes, you must. It’s the only way.” Schuyler knew that Mimi did not lie. And it made sense, somehow, that something so weak could also bring so much life—because that was exactly what blood did. It brought him life.

Jack gasped. “But I could hurt you. . . . The risk is too great. The Corruption . . . I might be tempted to . . .”

Taking the blood of a fellow vampire was against the Code. It was what the Silver Bloods did to their victims. If Jack lost control, both of them were doomed.

“I trust you,” Schuyler said, leaning down to him, while he pushed himself up and put an arm around her neck.