Melissa de la Cruz - THE VAN ALEN LEGACY

Allison nodded enthusiastically. “With the death of Caligula came the death of the idea of the Republic. The empire was infallible. The people grieved for their murdered emperor, no matter how cruel or insane his enemies said he was. And with Caligula’s death, the death of the Republic was all but confirmed. The Romans never tried to bring it back again. The Senate’s greatest achievement, then, in murdering the emperor was solidifying the people’s loyalty to the empire,” Allison said. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Especially since it wasn’t the first attempt on Caligula’s life. His sisters Agrippina and Julia Livilla had tried to kill him before, but failed. They were unsuccessful and banished. But the Senate succeeded where they did not.”

There was a hand up. “I thought Caligula was . . . um, you know, close to his sisters,” Bryce Cutting insinuated with a smirk.

Miss Murray interjected this time. “He was certainly “close,” as you say, to his sister Drusilla. She was treated as the head of his household, and when she died, he mourned the loss like a widower. He even had the Senate name her a goddess. But as to whether they were close in a Biblical sense, history is ambiguous on the subject. Understand, class, that just like today, they tried to discredit their rulers with sex scandals and all sorts of salacious lies. If you believe half the things you read, everyone is a sexual pervert in antiquity. Perhaps Caligula and Drusilla were lovers. Or perhaps they simply wanted to solidify their power, to rule as brother and sister, as did the Egyptian despots.”

Bliss looked up from her notes. For some reason she had the sense that she was not hearing about distant historical figures safely entombed in the past and in the pages of history books. Instead, when she heard the names Drusilla, Agrippina, and Julia Livilla, she felt her skin tingle. These were people she knew.

“Dylan, I think I’m getting close. I think this is what I am meant to know.”

“Thanks, Miss M.,” Allison said. “Anyway, for the trivia portion of my presentation, I wanted to add that even though we all call him Caligula, it was just a nickname, which he probably didn’t like too much since it meant “Little Boot.” His real name was the same as Julius Caesar’s. They called him Gaius.”

“Gaius. Yes. That was what they used to call the Visitor.”

And Allison was absolutely right. He had despised that nickname. Bliss felt as if everything was coming back too fast and too soon, memories were falling like snowflakes, bright and glittering in her mind, but these were the Visitor’s memories: Rome, the final days, the deception, the betrayal. First with his sisters, Agrippina he could understand (Bliss was shocked to find the image of Agrippina looking back at her with the eyes of Mimi Force), Agrippina and Valerius had sided with that damned Cassius or whatever they had called Michael back then.

But Julia! How could she do this to him, his baby sister, the youngest child, she was so young when she first suspected, and it was she who had called Cassius’s attention to his corruption, Julia Livilla . . . how Julia hated that name, said it reminded her of her awful aunt, whom she despised. She had wanted to be called something else. . . .

Sophia.

He had been so close. So close to having his dream realized. He had come so close, only to have Cassius ruin everything. . . .

In her mind, Bliss saw what the Visitor had seen back then. A path. A winding path deep below the city of Lutetia, through tunnels far beneath the earth, a winding path that led underground, to a coven of demons bowing to his crown. . . . He would rise again, majestic and glorious, the Prince of Paradise once again . . . forever. All the world would shake and cower. The rivers would run with blood and the horsemen would be unleashed. . . . There would be no escape from Satan’s army. This was the crisis in Rome.

Bliss gasped.

The demons. The deaths. The corruption. All this had happened before. And it was going to happen again. Unless . . .

She blinked. She was sitting in the classroom, Allison was done, and everyone was stuffing books and papers into their bags.

Miss Murray was looking at her curiously. “Are you all right, Bliss?”

“Yes,” she said. “I just . . . I think I forgot to eat breakfast.”

Miss Murray nodded. “You know, Bliss, that if you find you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

Bliss nodded. Teachers at Duchesne were always super-empathic. The school policy was an “all-hands” approach. They didn’t wait for troubled students to find their way to the guidance counselor’s office.

“Sure, Miss M. Thanks.”

Miss Murray was smiling at her so kindly that she found herself talking, even though she had not meant to say anything. “It’s just . . . I have this problem, see . . . and I’m worried about bringing my friend into it . . . but I have a feeling she’s the only one who can help me.”

“I see.” Miss Murray crossed her arms. “sometimes it’s good to ask for help, Bliss. And friends are the only people we can trust when we are in trouble. That’s what they’re for, anyway. I’m sure your friend would be glad that you had reached out to her.”

Bliss nodded. “I think . . . I think you’re right.”

“Good.” Miss Murray smiled. For a moment, she reminded Bliss of someone, but she couldn’t figure out who.

Bliss removed her cell phone from her handbag. Her history teacher had helped her make a decision. She couldn’t do this alone, and the Force twins were no help at all. Trying to have a meaningful conversation with Jack was impossible. He stalked the halls of Duchesne with a shuffling, mournful air, as if grieving the loss of something precious. He rarely smiled anymore. Bliss had even seen him barking at the freshmen who got in his way, which was completely unlike him. Jack had always been kind to new students.

As for Mimi, Bliss had felt the temptation to confide in her, but so far all Mimi ever wanted to talk about was lipstick and jeans, and there was no way for Bliss to steer the conversation in a more serious direction. Mimi had once been so interested in the Conclave, but now she acted as if she could care less about what happened to the Blue Bloods.

But there was someone who could help her. There was someone who would understand. Someone who was just as intimately connected to everything that had happened as she was, and who deserved to know everything. She couldn’t shield her friend even if she wanted to. She was part of this too.

Bliss punched a quick reply on the screen.

“tomorrow. meet me at the prada sample sale.”

CHAPTER 46

Schuyler

Schuyler was familiar with the horror stories of American public education: the overcrowded classrooms, the violent students, the indifferent teachers. She had no idea what to expect: graffiti-ridden walls? Metal detectors? Roving gangs slashing innocent victims in the hallways?

It was early October, and as she walked into the school, a nondescript building on 22nd Street, she tried not to look too surprised. It was orderly. The metal detectors were built into the entrance, so students wouldn’t feel like they were walking into a prison. You had to walk through a metal detector to get into the Met, right? Not that this was anything like the Met, but it wasn’t something out of Jonathan Kozol either. She had even managed to get in to the few AP and honors classes offered. She had a locker, a homeroom, and a pretty good English teacher.

But even though she was relieved that Hamilton High exceeded her expectations, as she walked through the hallways that always smelled slightly of Pine-Oil cleaner, she realized with a pang how much she had loved Duchesne. Especially now that she could never go back. At least she would be seeing Bliss tomorrow. Schuyler decided enough was enough.