“First off, take it easy on that Conduit. Hazard-Perry means well,” Sam said. “It was as good a guess as any. The kid hasn’t slept in days. He works harder than anybody.”
“Maybe, but that pompous windbag Wendell Randolph wants my seat for ‘abuse of the police force.’ He said he’s going to call a White Vote at the next meeting.”
“He won’t. He’s all bluster,” Ted said with a dismissive wave. “You’re all they’ve got and they know it.”
“Maybe. Look guys, this is hard for me to say.” Mimi took a deep breath. “I know we’ve all worked really hard this last week, and I appreciate all your efforts, but I have no choice: if we don’t find her by tomorrow night, I’m taking the wards off the Coven. I don’t want to, but it’s my only option. I can’t have her burn, not online, not anywhere. At least with the wards down we’ll know exactly where she is and we’ll be able to get her out.”
The Venators took the news with sober faces. “That’s a huge risk. You know we’d be sitting ducks if the Silver Bloods pulled a stunt at the same time,” Ted warned.
“I know the risks.” Mimi put her hands in the air. “But do I have a choice?”
“Charles would never allow it,” Sam pointed out. “Not even during the slayings,” he said, meaning the two years prior when several teenage Blue Bloods were drained.
“Charles let six immortals die,” Mimi replied. “And Lawrence lost almost the entire Conclave in Rio. No. I’ve made up my mind. If we don’t find her before midnight, I’m doing it.”
Sam pushed back on his chair and put his hands behind his head. Every year of his Enmortal life showed in the creases on his face. “But don’t you have got get the full Conclave approval for that sort of thing?”
“Not in a time of war. Not with the Regis Doctrine,” said Mimi, a bit smugly. How’s that for looking up the Code, she thought. “And gentlemen, if it wasn’t clear before, let me make it so. This is a war we’re fighting. I’m not going to let security get mired up in useless bureaucratic motions.”
Ted exchanged a look with his brother, and Sam shrugged. “All right then, like you said, it’s your call, ma’am. But give us until the last minute before you pull the trigger. We’ve got someone working on a counter to that masking spell. We’ll find her. The last time the Regis took the wards off, you remember what happened.”
Mimi actually didn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit that to them, especially after she had already announced her decision. Plus, where did he get off calling her ma’am? “All right. But not one minute more.”
“We wanted to show you something too,” Sam said. “We got Renfield’s notes back. What is wrong with that guy, by the way?”
“He’s watched too many movies made by the Conspiracy.” Mimi smirked. “Next thing you know he’s going to start smelling like roses.”
Sam snorted. “He came up with a doozy. Remember those three things we saw on the video?” He began to draw on a cocktail napkin. “Copulating animals. Ram’s head. Snake.” He tapped the drawing with his pen.
“Uh-huh.”
“The scribes found something in the archives—take a look.” Sam slid a book across the table. It was an old Repository tome, probably from the 1500s, Mimi guessed, due to the Vitruvian silhouette on the spine. She could smell the dust on it.
Ted opened the book and pointed to an illustration on the left-hand page. It was a symbol divided into three parts. The first showed two interlocking circles, and the second, an animal on four legs. The third symbol was a sword piercing a star.
“Lucifer’s sigil,” Mimi sighed, pushing the book away. “So this is the Silver Bloods’ work after all. Of course.”
“Not exactly,” Sam said. “It’s actually the second symbol that worries us.”
“What is it?” Mimi squinted at the image. It looked like a furry little creature of some kind. . . . Like a . . . “It’s a lamb, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
They didn’t have to say anything more. Mimi knew her history as well as they. So that’s what the three images on the video meant. They corresponded to the symbols on the triglyph: the mating animals stood for union, the ram’s head for the sheep, and the snake was yet another symbol for Lucifer. The lamb symbolized humanity. The Red Bloods. A human flock. With Lucifer at its lead. The symbol for union joining the two, lashing them together.
The Silver Bloods were in cahoots with . . . humans? She felt sick. It didn’t make sense. Nothing did.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Vanity of Mrs. Armstrong Flood
On Sunday afternoon, Mimi met Oliver at Duchesne. “Are you absolutely certain this is the place this time?” she asked, as they ran up the darkened back stairway.
They had so little time left before the crescent moon rose. This was a farce; she did not even know why she had allowed herself to be talked into this. But if there was a chance to save Victoria without taking down the wards . . . they had to hurry.
When they had arrived at the school, Mimi quickly got them in without setting off any alarms. As Regent, she had the keys and codes to all the Blue Blood strongholds. The dark, empty building had struck her as surprisingly melancholy. She had never been in the school during the off-hours and was surprised to find how quiet and hollow it seemed without its students. She had always thought of Duchesne as a lively place, and now understood that its heart lay in its student body. Without them, the school was just an empty vessel, a stage set.
“I can’t have another Carlyle on my hands. Wendell Randolph wants my head on a platter for disrupting his hotel. We had to do a huge memory wipe on all those Red Bloods. Messy. I think the actor wants to sue. He got a scratch on his forehead. His face is insured, you know.”
“Actors,” Oliver said, as if it were a curse word. “Just get one of the Conspiracy members to give him a part in their new film. I figured we should try everything before you had to take the wards down.” He looked out the window at the sky, where the moon was still hidden. “We’ve got, what . . . fifteen minutes?” he asked, huffing as he led the way.
“Just about.” They were cutting it close, but Mimi had promised the Lennox boys they would have every minute until the crescent moon rose, and they had asked her to meet Oliver and give them this one last chance.
It would take an instant to call off the wards. All she had to do was say the words and they would see Victoria immediately. She had made her decision, but now that the time to act was coming upon her, she was starting to have doubts. Should she risk the safety of the entire Coven for the life of one vampire? Charles had never done so, and neither had Lawrence when he was Regis. Why on earth was she Regent? She wasn’t ready to make these kinds of decisions! She might be centuries old in blood, but in this cycle she was only seventeen.
Oliver caught his breath for a moment. “Anyway, in answer to your question, we’re here because it’s one of the places Victoria could be. Sam and Ted are already at the other.”
“Other?”
He nodded. “I’ll explain in a bit. Remember the Carlyle pattern?”
“Are we back to wallpaper again?” Mimi snapped.
“Hear me out. The pattern on the wallpaper was produced by William Morris in 1880. Its reprint was exclusive to the Carlyle Hotel. No one else in the world is supposed to have that wallpaper. But it kept bothering me—why did that pattern look so familiar? I thought I’d seen it before, and not just at the Carlyle.”
“Okay.”
“Then I did some digging up on the history of the hotel. Did you know it was owned by the Floods? The same family who gave their mansion to the Duchesne School. Mrs. Flood—Rose—was a leading tastemaker back in the day. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume she had picked out that wallpaper personally. It took a lot of trouble to reproduce it—they practically had to buy the factory that did it. And so it got me thinking—if she loved it so much—maybe . . .”
“She put it in her bedroom,” Mimi finished. “Victoria’s in the attic, then? All this time?”
“That’s my guess. Or in their Newport mansion, which is where the boys are. It’s a museum now, so I thought it was best if we took this place and sent them there. That way you don’t have to answer to the Preservation Society of Newport if things get messy, like they did the other day.”
“Good thinking, but you know if you’re wrong, I’m having your memory wiped and you’ll never work for us again.”
“Promise?”
Mimi and Oliver flew up the stairs to Mrs. Flood’s bedroom. The top-floor classrooms had been abandoned several years ago, after too many of the Red Blood students swore they had seen or heard ghosts. Silly humans, there was no such thing as ghosts! Only apparitions set off by vampires fooling around in the glom. But in order to appease the human population, the area had been sealed off by the administration. It did make for a good place to hide someone, since the distraction spell kept the area clear of humans while the vampires chalked up any strange activity as consequence to the spell. But to think that all along, Victoria had been here—just underneath their noses—was almost insulting. It was if whoever had done this was taunting them.
Mimi pressed her ear against the door. She could hear something—a terrible grunting noise and a shuffling. She pushed against the door. It was held by a massive blocking spell. Crap. Spellcasting and unmaking were not her areas of expertise, aside from that one time when she had dabbled in the Dark Arts.
“Try an exploder,” Oliver suggested.
“I am,” Mimi said, annoyed that she hadn’t thought of it earlier. She focused on the doorknob and visualized it disintegrating into nothingness, blasting open, and allowing her inside.
The doorknob shook and shivered but the door remained locked. The terrible grunting noise grew louder, accompanied by a fearful, low moaning. Victoria? What was happening behind the door? Mimi’s heart began to pump. She could feel waves of fear emanating from behind the doorway.
She tried again and shook her head. Whatever was holding it was strong. It was like ramming into a cement wall. “It’s jammed up hard,” she grunted. She looked outside the window. It was almost dark. The sky was the color of gray sand—the first hint of light on the horizon. The crescent moon would soon show its face.
“She’s in there,” Oliver urged, his shoulder pushing on the door as if that would help.
Mimi was about to answer, but before she could, from inside the room came a scream so terrible that she forgot everything she was doing. In an instant, she made her decision. There was no more time to waste. Victoria was going to burn.
She had to take the wards down. Now.
Azrael stepped into the glom, the mighty and terrible Angel of Death, a white queen wielding a dark sword flashing with the light of the heavens. Her six-foot wings stretched to their full span.
She said the words only Michael had said before her.
The wards fell, and in an instant the glom was filled with the spirits of every living vampire, and Mimi saw, through the jumble of souls, one particular girl screaming in the corner—a girl whose spirit had been, until now, hidden from the Coven—
Victoria!
In the glom, Mimi saw Sam and Ted Lennox moving toward Victoria, reaching for her—coming at her from the other side.
Then, for some inexplicable reason, the Venators looked up and turned away from Victoria and began running toward Mimi—their identical faces frozen in utter horror.
What are you doing? No . . . go back . . .Vix . . .
Mimi was so close, close enough to reach for Victoria’s hand. Their fingers brushed against each other’s in the twilight—
But before she could pull Victoria out into the real world, something hit Mimi with the magnitude of a firebomb, and it felt as though every atom in her body exploded out of existence.
TWENTY-FIVE
Crescent Moon
When Mimi blinked open her eyes, she was lying on the floor, covered in sawdust. A familiar face hovered above hers. She coughed. Whatever had hit her, it hurt. She felt as if she had cracked three ribs and inhaled a wall of asbestos. She was surprised to find she was still alive—she felt as if she had been pulled apart in a million pieces only to be stitched up again. What was that? A blood spell? It had to be. What else would knock her out like that, and in the glom? But if it was a blood spell, how was she still here?
“What happened?” she choked, realizing she was now inside the attic bedroom. The door was lying open and broken on the floor next to her. She looked around—Oliver had been right: the room was plastered with the same wallpaper from the original video. The same intricate pattern. There was a chair in the middle of the room, and Venator rope was tangled at its feet. A video camera was set up right across from it. This was where Victoria had been filmed. But she wasn’t here anymore. How had they been able to move her without unmasking her glom signature?
“Where is she? Where’s Victoria?” she croaked.
In answer, Oliver shakily pointed to a flickering computer monitor on a desk in the middle of the empty room.
On the screen, Victoria Taylor was burning to death. Melting into the black flames. Her vampire skin was scorched and peeling, the blood turning obsidian as it was destroyed forever.
Victoria was in the Newport house. The Lennox brothers popped out of the glom, and they tried valiantly to fight the flames, but it was too late. Nothing could stop hellfire from burning once it began to consume the immortal spirit it was set to destroy.
“Goddamnit!” Sam Lennox cried, kicking at the burning chair, while his brother wept beside him.
Mimi fell to the floor, her knees buckling beneath her. She remembered: the glom, Victoria, the Venators. They had been so close. The Venators could have saved Victoria, but at the final second, the Lennoxes had turned away to try to save Mimi instead. They had seen the blood spell headed in her direction. Now they were too late. They were all too late. She had put the entire Coven in danger, she had almost been killed—and for what? She had been unable to save Victoria, just as she had been unable to save Kingsley. “Oh God.”
In the end, there was nothing left of Victoria but a pile of ashes.
Mimi buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had failed so wretchedly. She was useless. As good as a Silver Blood. Worse.
Oliver quietly shut down the computer.
Outside, the crescent moon was high in the sky, shining in its silver glory.
The Cardinal
Florence, 1452
If the Changeling was to be believed, Andreas had allowed a Silver Blood to take control of the human church. Surely Andreas could not have known. He would never allow such blasphemy. Unless . . . unless Andreas was not who Tomi thought he was. Unless he was not Michael. Unless he was not her beloved. Tomi did not know what or who to believe anymore. This had never happened before. She could always recognize her twin in every incarnation, and every fiber of her being told her Michael was Andreas. How could she be so wrong? She could not understand it. There had to be another explanation. She could not accept it. And yet . . .
“Andreas is a traitor. I felt it, but I did not want to speak until I was sure,” Gio said, articulating every doubt Tomi held in her mind.
It was midday, and the newly inducted Cardinal was receiving a line of visitors wishing to kiss his ring and congratulate him on his newly elevated position. As Venators, they skipped the line and were quickly escorted inside his private office by his secretary.
“My friends!” Savonarola greeted Gio and Tomi with open arms.
Gio wasted no time. As soon as they entered, he reached and grabbed the priest by the neck. He squeezed the Cardinal’s throat until the man could not breathe. Savonarola’s eyes turned silver with crimson pupils.
“Abomination!” Gio spat. “You were an angel once,” he said, motioning to the view and the world that the Blue Bloods had built—a glorious city of beauty, peace, love, and light. “We will not allow you to destroy what we have made.”
“Where is your master? Where is
he hiding?” Tomi demanded.
The Cardinal only cackled, but his secretary—a human Conduit hovering by the door—provided the answer. Trembling with fear, he told them, “He is in the highest tower, in the home of the Mistress—” But before he was able to finish his sentence, Savonarola burst away from the Venator’s hold, grabbed a jeweled dagger from his desk, and stabbed the human to death.
“I was promised no harm would come to me!” the Cardinal cried, as Gio’s sword slashed his neck, beheading the Silver Blood priest.
PART THE THIRD
DEMING CHEN, MERCY-KILLER
New York
The Present
TWENTY-SIX
An Angel Descends
As many of you know, two weeks ago, in an attempt to save Victoria Taylor, I chose to remove the wards that guard our Coven for a very brief period. However, we were unable to retrieve her in time, as I myself was attacked by a blood spell in the glom.” The young Regent looked over the assembled Venators and Conclave members with sad eyes. Her voice was grave. “I survived the more insidious effects of the spell, but Victoria was not so lucky. She was murdered.”
The room remained silent for a long time. No one spoke or made any kind of noise: no nervous coughing, no impatient scraping of a chair. From her seat in the back, Deming Chen watched the Blue Bloods carefully. She was impressed by their ability to hold their emotions in check, but she sensed fear and anger from the assembled group.
This was not a good sign. It meant as Regent, Mimi Force did not have the backing of her Conclave. It was a pity, as anyone who could deflect a blood spell without a mark on her must have had very powerful protection at her disposal, and was worthy of respect and admiration. When Mimi had first gotten in touch with her, Deming was shocked to find that the rumors were true, that the New York Coven was being led by someone so early in her cycle, and carried the spirit of Azrael, no less. Things really must be dire if the Coven had the Angel of Death at its head. Deming had met Mimi Force only once before, during the Four Hundred Ball almost two years ago, when the newborn flock revealed their immortal identities.