Melissa de la Cruz - THE VAN ALEN LEGACY

She nodded, gritting her teeth, trying to fight back as a garbled mangle of violent emotions washed over her.

ANGER! HATRED! HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED? WHO IS RESPONSIBLE? I SHALL SLIT THEIR THROATS AND DRINK THE BLOOD OF THEIR CHILDREN, THE GATE WAS THERE! WE HAD THE GATEKEEPER IN OUR HANDS! THE PATH WAS WITHIN OUR REACH! FOOLS! FOOLS!

She pushed back, No. No. Not me. Not me. Him. Shut him out. Shut him out. Shut him out. Get away from me, from my thoughts, from my life. I am not you. I am not you. I am not you.

“He’s gone,” Bliss said, exhaling. She opened her eyes. She was still in the museum, and Dylan was sitting on the steps across from her.

“Good,” Dylan said. “It’s very important that you keep him away’that you don’t . . . you don’t let him take over.”

“I won’t.” She told him about how she was able to remain even when the Visitor came back.

“He was trying to do something, I think, but I have a feeling it didn’t work out. It didn’t happen. Something went wrong. That’s why he’s so angry just now.”

“Yes, but I have a feeling it’s not over. You must continue what you are doing. Resisting him. Remaining, as you say. Watch and observe. And you must act when the time is right,” Dylan said.

“But what if he finds out?”

“I will help you as much as I can. I promise.”

“And what about you. Will you always be here?” she asked him. “I can never leave,” Dylan said. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Can I?” she asked, holding out her hand. She put it up against his, hoping. But she felt nothing. Air. He was smoke and mirrors. Air and light. A memory. A ghost.

He wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” she whispered, looking into his dark eyes. “But there’s nothing here. You’re not really here, are you? I’m just crazy. I probably just invented you to feel sane,” she said, and before she could help it, she started to sob. The tears came flooding down her cheeks. The enormity of her responsibility overwhelmed her. She didn’t know if she was going to be able to do it. It was too much to ask. She couldn’t stand up to the Visitor. To Lucifer. He was too powerful.

Dylan put a hand on her shoulder’she could see it but she couldn’t feel it. But she could hear his voice. “It’s all right, Bliss.” His voice was gentle. “It’s going to be all right.”

CHAPTER 32

Mimi

Mimi wanted to scream. Riddles and clues and a dead body and now yet another mystery. She wanted explanations and she wanted them now.

“What do you mean she’s not dead?” she cried. But Kingsley and the team were more interested in examining the bodies of the Silver Bloods right then.

A man and a woman. Mimi recognized them from the Committee. The couple had lived next door to the Forces on Fifth Avenue. My god, Mimi thought, her heart racing. The hidden Silver Bloods were like terrorist sleeper cells; who knew how many more of them were in the Coven? Ted examined the wound on the woman’s chest. There was a mark in the middle of it that had been obscured by all the blood. It was a tattoo of a sword piercing clouds, right where the heart would be.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mimi asked.

“The archangel’s sigil.” Kingsley nodded. “You see that gold crust around the wound? There’s only one sword in the world that can do that. Michael’s.”

“I don’t understand,” Mimi said. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Kingsley closed his eyes in fierce concentration.

“They took her from the hotel a year ago. For some reason, they must have wanted her alive. Nan Cutler survived and posed as Jordan’s grandmother, hiding her in the favela, where Jordan must have been able to befriend those children. But Sophia knew we were coming, she left us the note, told the children who to give it to. And she knew the Silver Bloods would take her here, but I think we were supposed to save her. That’s what she saw. That’s why she sent us here’to prevent this from happening. But somehow her timing was off . They decided to kill her sooner than she expected.”

“But she succeeded in fighting them off. She found Michael’s sword, that must have been what she was looking for. It had been stolen from my father’s study, you know. The Silver Bloods must have had it,” Mimi said, thinking of the burglary. “so we know what killed these two,” she said. “But then something else happened. . . .”

“Yes. Nan came back, and that was a surprise. Jordan didn’t see that one coming,” Kingsley said.

“So Nan killed her, or at least she thought she did.”

“Yes.”

“But the irises?, you said she isn’t dead,” Mimi said. “But Jordan is dead.”

“Yes. But Jordan was just a physical shell for the Watcher.” Kingsley looked at Mimi. “You really don’t remember any of this? You should be ashamed.”

“I don’t have to apologize for anything?” But she felt as if she should.

“The Watcher is not exactly one of us. While her spirit can be called up in the blood to be born in a new cycle, there’s something that the Silver Bloods don’t know. In Rome, when Sophia was the first of us to recognize Lucifer in the Emperor Caligula, when her cycle was completed, the Coven decided she was too valuable to be bound by blood alone. So Michael set her spirit free. She is more than vampire. She is like a ghost. She inhabits a body, a machine, but she can leave it, and exchange it, at any time.”

“So, Nan Cutler killed her body, but Jordan had time to release her spirit into something else? What?”

Kingsley looked out the window, at the colorful birds hanging in the trees. “My guess is she went into one of those macaws out there. An intelligent bird. But that would just be a temporary shelter. She would look for a Red Blood as soon as she could.”

“So you mean to tell me . . . she’s out there? Living in another body?” Mimi asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

Mimi crossed her arms. “A human. A Red Blood.”

“Yes.” Kingsley’s patience was wearing thin. “they are made from the same physical shell as we are. A human host.”

“And you know all this, that she’s still alive, just by looking into her eyes?”

“If the Watcher had truly been destroyed, Jordan’s eyes would have pupils. You know what they say . . . eyes . . . windows . . . soul. Do I have to put it together for you, Force?”

They buried Jordan near the waterfalls. Kingsley fashioned a cross from two branches and stuck it in the mound. The four of them clustered around the grave while he said a few words.

“We give to the earth the body of Jordan Llewellyn, who carried the spirit of the Pistis Sophia. We ask the earth to take what is hers, and send it back with gratitude and love and sorrow. Rest in peace.”

Mimi and the Lennox brothers murmured soft Amens.

Afterward, they stacked the bodies of the dead Silver Bloods in the backyard and made a funeral pyre. It was only when the first flames caught the wind that Mimi realized it was getting dark. The sun was setting. More than forty-eight hours had passed with no sleep. Mimi was a vampire, but she would have really loved a comfy bed right then. She watched the fire engulf the bodies and send sparks up toward the night sky.

All this and still no Watcher. So what if the Watcher was still alive: this time they didn’t even know what she was she still a she, or looked like anymore. She could be anybody.

“Where would the Watcher go for safety?” Kingsley asked. He was talking to himself. “To the one who called her. But with Cordelia gone, and Lawrence dead, she has only one recourse. Allegra Van Alen.”

“But Allegra’s in a coma. She’s not going to be much help to anyone,” Mimi pointed out. “Unless, don’t tell me . . .”