Melissa de la Cruz - THE VAN ALEN LEGACY

Mimi blushed at the unexpected intimacy, and to her surprise found Kingsley looking slightly embarrassed as well. For all his talk and flirting, he handled himself like a true gentleman.

“Sorry about that,” he said, straightening up.

“Nothing to worry about.” Mimi smiled a smile that said no one could resist her in a wet camisole, not even the great Kingsley Martin. But her breezy facade was just that, a façade, because she felt a spark pass between them when Kingsley touched her. Something that she didn’t want to acknowledge right then, or ever, but she felt a connection to him . . . and not just that, a desire, quite unlike her usual voracity for human familiars: those red-blooded toys that she disposed of at will (she’d already left two of them back at the hotel).

No, this was something deeper, stirring something inside her. . . . A memory, perhaps? Had they known each other in a prior lifetime? And if so, what had happened between them? Nothing? Everything? She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because the boys were already scrambling up the edge of the bank.

She removed her clothes from the waterproof pack and began to dress, averting her eyes from Kingsley, who was doing the same.

“We shouldn’t be too far,” Kingsley said, checking the map once they were ready.

They made their way through the wilderness until they arrived at a cluster of trees and greenery that created a curtain around a small, wooden dwelling. Not quite a shack but not quite a house either. There was a strange symbol on the doorway, a five-pointed star. The mark of Lucifer. Mimi shivered and noticed that the rest of the team looked tense as well. This would not be as easy as fighting off a gang of drug dealers.

“This is it,” Kingsley said. “Force and I will take the front; you two cover the back exit,” he ordered.

Mimi followed Kingsley into position as they crept up toward the front door.

“On the count of three.” Kingsley nodded. He had brandished his sword. Its silver blade glinted in the sun.

Mimi removed hers from the wire in her bra, the needle unfolding to the full length of her weapon. A sudden image came up: hunting demons through a tunnel of caves, the shrieking and then the silence. A memory? Mimi blinked. Or a projection? Wasn’t that Jack’s voice? She couldn’t be sure. The connection between them was not what it used to be. Focus. Kingsley was counting down.

“One, two . . .” He nodded to Mimi and she kicked at the door, which opened with a bang.

CHAPTER 24

Schuyler

Jack led Schuyler through the residential streets of the isle Saint-Louis and over the bridge connecting to “Isle de la Cite”, where she caught a glimpse of Notre Dame as they flew past the square and into the nearest Metro station.

“Where are we going?” she panted as they jumped the locked turnstiles. The trains had stopped running an hour ago.

“Somewhere we’ll be safe,” he said as they ran to the very end of the empty platform: Schuyler had become familiar with the aesthetics of the Metro, but she was still struck by how beautiful even something like the subway could be in Paris. The Cite tunnel was lit by Art Deco’style globe lights that curved over the tracks with a charming flair.

There’s an old station below this one; they closed it off when they rebuilt the Metro,” Jack said, opening a hidden door located at the very end of the station and leading her down a dusty staircase. The station underneath appeared to be frozen in time, as if it had been just yesterday that travelers had waited for steam engines to take them to their destinations.

Schuyler and Jack walked on the old railroad tracks, until the tracks stopped and the tunnels turned into caves leading farther and farther underground. The darkness smothered them like a blanket, schuyler was glad for theilluminata, it was the only way she could see Jack.

The twisted narrow underground paths reminded Schuyler of something she had seen in an old Repository book.

“Is this . . . “? she asked.

“Lutetia.” Jack nodded.

The ancient Gallic city. When they had conquered Gaul, Blue Blood Romans named the place after the marshlands that had surrounded the area. The vampires had built a massive underground network of tunnels below the city. Red Bloods believed that all that was left of Lutetia were the remains of an amphitheater in the Latin Quarter. They did not know that most of city had survived intact, deep down in the catacombs.

Unlike the dungeon underneath the H’tel Lambert, the catacombs of Lutetia were unexpectedly filled with fresh air. They were clean. Protected by some sort of spell, Schuyler guessed. There were no rats skittering in the walls, no smell of sewage and rot.

“Do you think he’s still following us?” Schuyler asked, keeping up with Jack. She felt as if her entire being were a tuning fork, vibrating with fear. As they walked deeper into the caves, she found she was unable to pierce the total darkness, even with the vampire sight.

“Hopefully,” Jack replied.

Hopefully? As they ran, Schuyler realized the tunnels created a maze, a hundred different corridors leading in a thousand different directions.

“You could get lost in here forever,” she said.

“That’s the point,” Jack replied. “Only the Blue Bloods know the way out. These tunnels are enchanted against the animadverto. Try to remember the way we came. You will not be able to.”

He was right. She couldn’t remember the way, which was strange and unsettling because having vampire sight was like watching a show on a DVR: you could rewind to exactly the same place and remember everything, every detail in the room, every nuance, every expression on anyone’s face, every word that was uttered. So that’s why Jack said he hoped Leviathan had followed them, although Schuyler wasn’t convinced a mere maze could stop a demon.

“What about everyone we left behind?”

“Charles is there. He won’t let any harm come to them,” Jack said. “He was keeping an eye on Leviathan while I fetched you from the room. He should be more than a match for the demon.”

They ran for what felt like miles underground. Schuyler had no way of knowing where they were, and she hoped Jack knew what he was doing. Schuyler thought her heart might burst from exertion, and her muscles were starting to flag. How much farther could they run?

“Not far” , Jack sent. “ We are almost to the intersection. Come .”

He led them through a narrow tunnel, it was almost like a cut in the rock, so thin and sharp they had to walk sideways, inching along the wall, and finally they stepped into a crossing of some sort, an open space that pinwheeled away to seven different corridors.

“Where are we?”

“Underneath the Eiffel Tower. This is the center of the old city and the beginning of the new. All the tunnels eventually lead here.”

“All roads lead to Rome,” Schuyler quoted. “Same idea, right?”

“Sort of.” Jack allowed a smile.

Schuyler looked around. Carved above each of the seven corridors were symbols that looked familiar. She wondered where she had seen them before, then realized: they had been flashing on the banners of the Chinese junks. They were the emblems of each Great House, in the sacred language.

Above the middle tunnel was a symbol Schuyler carried on her own wrist. A sword cutting through clouds. The archangel’s sigil. Also next to each tunnel opening were seven wooden torches leaning against the wall. Jack reached for one and waved his hand above it, making a small white flame appear.

“This is called the breath of God. Any Blue Blood can bring light to the tunnels. C’mon, it’s this way to the exit,” he said, heading down the leftmost corridor. He lit the way, just as a dark figure came charging out from the other side.