Lost in Time
Page 14
The Fifth Avenue town house was almost ready, and Allegra spent most of her time with decorators, debating wall colors, window treatments, and furniture. They planned to keep a few of their things from the mansion on Riverside. Cordelia had promised them the chesterfield and the silver as bonding gifts, but Allegra was looking forward to a fresh start. There were those who believed that buying furniture was a bourgeois practice. In certain circles, only inherited furniture was deemed appropriate, but Allegra disagreed. While tradition was well and good, she wanted everything in the new house to be light and new, with nothing that hinted of the heavy bag-gage, or held too many memories of the past.
There were some traditions she did keep, however. Since Egypt, when they had ruled as menes and meni, their union was sealed by the bride moving her possessions to her new home. The movers would take care of the heavy stuff, but Allegra planned to bring a few items on her own: her jewelry box, the little crystal vase of oil, a cup of rice, and a flagon of water, to bring luck to their new home.
That afternoon, Allegra stood in the soon-to-be finished living room.
Charles walked in. "I didn't know you were here."
"I just wanted to check on the wallpaper. I was worried it might be too bright for the room, but I think it's fine."
"It looks lovely," he said.
"You like it?"
"Very much." He nodded.
"Good," she said.
Charles smiled at her. "I'm glad to see you happy."
"I am happy," Allegra said.
If she said it enough, maybe she would believe it.
Chapter Twenty-two
Blood Sick
"You've been quiet all evening," Jack said, when they returned to their room after their lengthy Schuyler nodded and sat at the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes and taking off her earrings. She was still digesting everything Mahrus had told them about the systemic extinction of the Covens. Rio, Paris, Kiev, Shanghai, Amman, and Cairo were no more, or had gone underground. New York was barely hanging on - one of the few remaining safe havens left - and who knew how long it would continue to survive. They had to find Catherine and secure the gate before the rest of the Silver Bloods were able to burst through from the other side.
Jack saw her distress and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't give up hope. It is a bleak time in our history, but I have faith that we will find a way to stop this evil and that we will survive."
Schuyler nodded. She had to think of a way to reach Catherine. Where was she hiding? She was in the city, Schuyler knew; even Mahrus had agreed that her theory was solid. The Nephilim activity was strongest here. This was the place.
Schuyler had to find a way to draw her out.
"Don't you think it's strange?" she asked Jack suddenly.
"If it's easier to keep the demons out of this world by obliterating the paths entirely, like Kingsley did when he released the subvertio, why did Michael create the gates instead?"
"He must have had a good reason. The law of Creation mandates that that which was made by the Almighty should not be unmade. The Gates of Hell have kept this world safe for centuries. Michael put his strength into their foundation. They have been weakened because he has been weakened," Jack said thoughtfully.
"Do you think Mahrus is right? About the Silver Blood who's behind this being from New York?" Schuyler asked. It was where the killings had begun, after all, where the first deaths from Full Consumption had occurred. In Italy, Oliver had told them about how Forsyth Llewellyn had disappeared, and how Mimi and the Venators had fingered him as the traitor. Bliss had confirmed as much - that her cycle father, Forsyth, the most trusted of Charles's associates, was actually the hidden Croatan in their midst, who had been keeping the spirit of Lucifer alive in his daughter. "Do you think Forsyth is here?" she asked, shuddering. "That he's the one who's planned all this?"
"We'll find out," Jack said. "And when we do, we will destroy him," he promised. "We have nothing to be frightened of, least of all that traitor."
Schuyler huddled next to him, and Jack rested his head against her neck. She put a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble. She turned toward him, and they slowly fell onto the bed. Soon she felt his fangs puncture her skin and begin to draw blood.
Schuyler felt the same drowsy happiness she always did after they performed the Sacred Kiss. She felt Jack release her, rolling over so he could turn off the light. She was about to surrender to sleep when she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, and she sat up, doubling over, clutching her middle.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?
Schuyler... talk to me."
She shook her head. She couldn't speak: it was too painful. She felt as if she were being split in two. She felt dizzy and disoriented, nauseated, and she took a few gulps of air.
"I'm all right... I'm all right..." she said, right before she vomited her dinner all over the floor.
"Schuyler!" Jack yelled, feeling helpless.
She clutched the nightstand, her shoulders heaving, ignoring Jack for a moment. The wave of nausea passed, and she took the moment to breathe. Then another wave crashed - harder this time - and this time it was more frightening.... Blood and bile, a dark viscous puddle.
Jack quickly cleaned up the mess with a towel from the bathroom. He looked up at her. "Lie down."
"I can't. It feels better to stand."
He tossed the towel into a corner and walked to her side.
"Lean on me, then."
She clutched him, shaking. She'd felt off since they'd arrived in Cairo, but now she felt sicker than she ever had in her life. This was worse than the Transformation; worse than the time she had been away from the Coven and her blood had thinned. She felt as if she were dying. But the feeling passed, and her stomach settled. She felt much better. "I'm all right,"
she said, still holding him. "Probably just some sort of virus.
maybe Cairo Belly finally caught up with me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm okay. Just a bit of nausea. I've had it before."
She gave him a reassuring smile.
Jack did not hide his concern. He had not noticed that she had been feeling sick, and they shared everything. He was appalled at the depth of his ignorance, but there had to be a reason. Then he knew. "How long has this been going on?" he asked quietly. "Tell me, my love."
Schuyler shrugged. A few weeks, maybe a month at the most. He was right. She had hidden it from him, which was why he had not known. "I didn't want you to worry, what with everything that's going on. I'm all right, I promise."
Jack did not answer, but continued to hold her, the two of them silent. They each had secrets they were keeping from the other; secrets they were keeping out of love. But slowly, and surely, both would soon come to light.
Chapter Twenty-three
In the Limelight
Only when they were inside did Oliver notice that the nightclub was housed in a space that looked like an old cathedral; a deconsecrated church that had been turned into a haven of sin. The music was deafening and the club smelled like smoke and body odor. They could barely move, the crowds were pressed so tightly. It was pure misery. Oliver was afraid to look down to see what he was wearing, but he needn't have worried: he was dressed as he had been that morning, in a safari vest and jeans. His regular clothes. maybe in Tartarus they didn't care about illusions, or perhaps the underworld's stylist was off today? He wanted to ask Mimi, but she was intent on pressing forward. She swiveled her head every which way, looking for Kingsley. She seemed to know her way around the club, and led them up a staircase, where the VIProoms were.
The private back rooms were built like Russian matry-oshka dolls, in that each new space led to another. Oliver had the feeling that one could spend eternity wandering through a succession of ever-smaller, ever-darker, ever-hotter rooms, while the droning sound of a monotone techno beat - bumf, bumf, bumf - resounded in the brain until one went as insane as the demons that surrounded the place. Each back room was guarded by a door bitch and a bouncer, but Mimi glided through like she owned the place.
She finally stopped, and Oliver almost bumped into her back. She had come to the end of the VIP rooms. There were no more doors at the other end. This was it.
She took a seat at a table and motioned for Oliver to do the same. They settled into the thick red velvet banquette. No sooner had they sat down than the manager, a bulldog in an ugly shiny suit, came up to the two of them. "Fallen," he said, pointing at Mimi. "You're not one of us. Get out!" he growled.
"No service for your type here."
Mimi sat up, affronted, and began to argue. "Helda gave me permission to - "
"Helda's up there," the demon answered, pointing with his thumb. "I don't care what Helda said. No Fallen in my club. Unless your blood is silver, no dice, baby. makes everyone uncomfortable." He gestured to two ugly trolls who were stationed at the doors - who'd just let them in, in fact - and they pulled Mimi and Oliver from their seats.
"Let me go!" Mimi demanded. "You can't do this! Do you know who I am?"
"What about him?" one of the trolls asked their boss, nodding at Oliver.
"What about him?" the demon snarled.
"He's alive," the troll said hungrily. "Can we have him?"
"Yeah, I don't care."
The trolls grunted their approval and began to drool.
Mimi struggled, but the trolls were too strong. They began to march them out of the VIP room when a low, smooth voice cut through the drone.
"Let them go, Beelzebub." The voice was familiar, and Mimi froze. She couldn't breathe for a moment - scarcely believing that after all the hardship in her journey, she would be rewarded at last. She slowly turned around to see a handsome man standing to the side, his face hidden in shadow.
Nothing happened. The demon growled.
"I said, let them go. Or am I not making myself clear?"
"Down, boys," the demon said, and the trolls released their hold.
Oliver squinted at the dark figure who'd saved them. He was pretty sure he knew who was talking, but for a moment he didn't know whether to feel relieved or to remain frightened.
He decided anything was better than having those trolls saliv-ating over him.
"But boss, they're stinking up the place," the demon whined, looking cowed and frightened.
"You're only smelling yourself," the handsome fellow said, with an amused grin at his delectable insult. "Go on, now, and find other guests to harass; but leave my friends alone."
He stepped into the light and held out his hand. "Force,"
Kingsley martin said, looking just as smooth and debonair as ever. There was something new and different about him, but it wasn't his looks: he was still the same sexy beast with the same saucy forelock, the same sparkling dark eyes. Kingsley always looked ready for fun, but now he also looked relaxed and at ease, perfectly comfortable in his new surroundings. He looked neither miserable nor tortured, and Mimi had to stop herself from running to his arms, as something she saw in his face made her hold her emotions in check.
Kingsley did not look surprised to see her. Or shocked, or excited, or any of the emotions she had thought he would show when they were finally reunited. He looked as if something of minor interest had wandered in. "How nice to see you here. You need a drink?"
Mimi wondered what kind of game he was playing. Did he not want to show her how he felt about her in front of the trolls and demons who surrounded them? This from the boy with the quick fingers and insatiable lust? She remembered how fast he could get her undressed when he wanted her - and he'd wanted her very much and very often back then. This from the boy who'd sacrificed himself so she could live? Well, she could match his light tone. She was Mimi Force, after all, and if Kingsley was going to play that game, if he wanted a chase, then she would give him one.
"Sure. What are you pouring?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder and settling back into their corner table.
Kingsley snapped his fingers and a beautiful virago appeared. The Amazon was almost six feet tall and dressed in a tiny silver dress that showed off her bountiful assets. "Siren, make sure my friends get everything and anything they wish,"
he drawled.
"Sure thing, boss." The cocktail waitress placed two leather-bound drink menus on the table. "What'll you have?
Everything's on the house."
Mimi opened the book to choose a libation, and when she looked up, Kingsley had disappeared. She turned to Oliver questioningly, but he only shrugged.
"You're friends of Araquiel's? You're so lucky," their waitress whispered.
There were some traditions she did keep, however. Since Egypt, when they had ruled as menes and meni, their union was sealed by the bride moving her possessions to her new home. The movers would take care of the heavy stuff, but Allegra planned to bring a few items on her own: her jewelry box, the little crystal vase of oil, a cup of rice, and a flagon of water, to bring luck to their new home.
That afternoon, Allegra stood in the soon-to-be finished living room.
Charles walked in. "I didn't know you were here."
"I just wanted to check on the wallpaper. I was worried it might be too bright for the room, but I think it's fine."
"It looks lovely," he said.
"You like it?"
"Very much." He nodded.
"Good," she said.
Charles smiled at her. "I'm glad to see you happy."
"I am happy," Allegra said.
If she said it enough, maybe she would believe it.
Chapter Twenty-two
Blood Sick
"You've been quiet all evening," Jack said, when they returned to their room after their lengthy Schuyler nodded and sat at the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes and taking off her earrings. She was still digesting everything Mahrus had told them about the systemic extinction of the Covens. Rio, Paris, Kiev, Shanghai, Amman, and Cairo were no more, or had gone underground. New York was barely hanging on - one of the few remaining safe havens left - and who knew how long it would continue to survive. They had to find Catherine and secure the gate before the rest of the Silver Bloods were able to burst through from the other side.
Jack saw her distress and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't give up hope. It is a bleak time in our history, but I have faith that we will find a way to stop this evil and that we will survive."
Schuyler nodded. She had to think of a way to reach Catherine. Where was she hiding? She was in the city, Schuyler knew; even Mahrus had agreed that her theory was solid. The Nephilim activity was strongest here. This was the place.
Schuyler had to find a way to draw her out.
"Don't you think it's strange?" she asked Jack suddenly.
"If it's easier to keep the demons out of this world by obliterating the paths entirely, like Kingsley did when he released the subvertio, why did Michael create the gates instead?"
"He must have had a good reason. The law of Creation mandates that that which was made by the Almighty should not be unmade. The Gates of Hell have kept this world safe for centuries. Michael put his strength into their foundation. They have been weakened because he has been weakened," Jack said thoughtfully.
"Do you think Mahrus is right? About the Silver Blood who's behind this being from New York?" Schuyler asked. It was where the killings had begun, after all, where the first deaths from Full Consumption had occurred. In Italy, Oliver had told them about how Forsyth Llewellyn had disappeared, and how Mimi and the Venators had fingered him as the traitor. Bliss had confirmed as much - that her cycle father, Forsyth, the most trusted of Charles's associates, was actually the hidden Croatan in their midst, who had been keeping the spirit of Lucifer alive in his daughter. "Do you think Forsyth is here?" she asked, shuddering. "That he's the one who's planned all this?"
"We'll find out," Jack said. "And when we do, we will destroy him," he promised. "We have nothing to be frightened of, least of all that traitor."
Schuyler huddled next to him, and Jack rested his head against her neck. She put a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble. She turned toward him, and they slowly fell onto the bed. Soon she felt his fangs puncture her skin and begin to draw blood.
Schuyler felt the same drowsy happiness she always did after they performed the Sacred Kiss. She felt Jack release her, rolling over so he could turn off the light. She was about to surrender to sleep when she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, and she sat up, doubling over, clutching her middle.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?
Schuyler... talk to me."
She shook her head. She couldn't speak: it was too painful. She felt as if she were being split in two. She felt dizzy and disoriented, nauseated, and she took a few gulps of air.
"I'm all right... I'm all right..." she said, right before she vomited her dinner all over the floor.
"Schuyler!" Jack yelled, feeling helpless.
She clutched the nightstand, her shoulders heaving, ignoring Jack for a moment. The wave of nausea passed, and she took the moment to breathe. Then another wave crashed - harder this time - and this time it was more frightening.... Blood and bile, a dark viscous puddle.
Jack quickly cleaned up the mess with a towel from the bathroom. He looked up at her. "Lie down."
"I can't. It feels better to stand."
He tossed the towel into a corner and walked to her side.
"Lean on me, then."
She clutched him, shaking. She'd felt off since they'd arrived in Cairo, but now she felt sicker than she ever had in her life. This was worse than the Transformation; worse than the time she had been away from the Coven and her blood had thinned. She felt as if she were dying. But the feeling passed, and her stomach settled. She felt much better. "I'm all right,"
she said, still holding him. "Probably just some sort of virus.
maybe Cairo Belly finally caught up with me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm okay. Just a bit of nausea. I've had it before."
She gave him a reassuring smile.
Jack did not hide his concern. He had not noticed that she had been feeling sick, and they shared everything. He was appalled at the depth of his ignorance, but there had to be a reason. Then he knew. "How long has this been going on?" he asked quietly. "Tell me, my love."
Schuyler shrugged. A few weeks, maybe a month at the most. He was right. She had hidden it from him, which was why he had not known. "I didn't want you to worry, what with everything that's going on. I'm all right, I promise."
Jack did not answer, but continued to hold her, the two of them silent. They each had secrets they were keeping from the other; secrets they were keeping out of love. But slowly, and surely, both would soon come to light.
Chapter Twenty-three
In the Limelight
Only when they were inside did Oliver notice that the nightclub was housed in a space that looked like an old cathedral; a deconsecrated church that had been turned into a haven of sin. The music was deafening and the club smelled like smoke and body odor. They could barely move, the crowds were pressed so tightly. It was pure misery. Oliver was afraid to look down to see what he was wearing, but he needn't have worried: he was dressed as he had been that morning, in a safari vest and jeans. His regular clothes. maybe in Tartarus they didn't care about illusions, or perhaps the underworld's stylist was off today? He wanted to ask Mimi, but she was intent on pressing forward. She swiveled her head every which way, looking for Kingsley. She seemed to know her way around the club, and led them up a staircase, where the VIProoms were.
The private back rooms were built like Russian matry-oshka dolls, in that each new space led to another. Oliver had the feeling that one could spend eternity wandering through a succession of ever-smaller, ever-darker, ever-hotter rooms, while the droning sound of a monotone techno beat - bumf, bumf, bumf - resounded in the brain until one went as insane as the demons that surrounded the place. Each back room was guarded by a door bitch and a bouncer, but Mimi glided through like she owned the place.
She finally stopped, and Oliver almost bumped into her back. She had come to the end of the VIP rooms. There were no more doors at the other end. This was it.
She took a seat at a table and motioned for Oliver to do the same. They settled into the thick red velvet banquette. No sooner had they sat down than the manager, a bulldog in an ugly shiny suit, came up to the two of them. "Fallen," he said, pointing at Mimi. "You're not one of us. Get out!" he growled.
"No service for your type here."
Mimi sat up, affronted, and began to argue. "Helda gave me permission to - "
"Helda's up there," the demon answered, pointing with his thumb. "I don't care what Helda said. No Fallen in my club. Unless your blood is silver, no dice, baby. makes everyone uncomfortable." He gestured to two ugly trolls who were stationed at the doors - who'd just let them in, in fact - and they pulled Mimi and Oliver from their seats.
"Let me go!" Mimi demanded. "You can't do this! Do you know who I am?"
"What about him?" one of the trolls asked their boss, nodding at Oliver.
"What about him?" the demon snarled.
"He's alive," the troll said hungrily. "Can we have him?"
"Yeah, I don't care."
The trolls grunted their approval and began to drool.
Mimi struggled, but the trolls were too strong. They began to march them out of the VIP room when a low, smooth voice cut through the drone.
"Let them go, Beelzebub." The voice was familiar, and Mimi froze. She couldn't breathe for a moment - scarcely believing that after all the hardship in her journey, she would be rewarded at last. She slowly turned around to see a handsome man standing to the side, his face hidden in shadow.
Nothing happened. The demon growled.
"I said, let them go. Or am I not making myself clear?"
"Down, boys," the demon said, and the trolls released their hold.
Oliver squinted at the dark figure who'd saved them. He was pretty sure he knew who was talking, but for a moment he didn't know whether to feel relieved or to remain frightened.
He decided anything was better than having those trolls saliv-ating over him.
"But boss, they're stinking up the place," the demon whined, looking cowed and frightened.
"You're only smelling yourself," the handsome fellow said, with an amused grin at his delectable insult. "Go on, now, and find other guests to harass; but leave my friends alone."
He stepped into the light and held out his hand. "Force,"
Kingsley martin said, looking just as smooth and debonair as ever. There was something new and different about him, but it wasn't his looks: he was still the same sexy beast with the same saucy forelock, the same sparkling dark eyes. Kingsley always looked ready for fun, but now he also looked relaxed and at ease, perfectly comfortable in his new surroundings. He looked neither miserable nor tortured, and Mimi had to stop herself from running to his arms, as something she saw in his face made her hold her emotions in check.
Kingsley did not look surprised to see her. Or shocked, or excited, or any of the emotions she had thought he would show when they were finally reunited. He looked as if something of minor interest had wandered in. "How nice to see you here. You need a drink?"
Mimi wondered what kind of game he was playing. Did he not want to show her how he felt about her in front of the trolls and demons who surrounded them? This from the boy with the quick fingers and insatiable lust? She remembered how fast he could get her undressed when he wanted her - and he'd wanted her very much and very often back then. This from the boy who'd sacrificed himself so she could live? Well, she could match his light tone. She was Mimi Force, after all, and if Kingsley was going to play that game, if he wanted a chase, then she would give him one.
"Sure. What are you pouring?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder and settling back into their corner table.
Kingsley snapped his fingers and a beautiful virago appeared. The Amazon was almost six feet tall and dressed in a tiny silver dress that showed off her bountiful assets. "Siren, make sure my friends get everything and anything they wish,"
he drawled.
"Sure thing, boss." The cocktail waitress placed two leather-bound drink menus on the table. "What'll you have?
Everything's on the house."
Mimi opened the book to choose a libation, and when she looked up, Kingsley had disappeared. She turned to Oliver questioningly, but he only shrugged.
"You're friends of Araquiel's? You're so lucky," their waitress whispered.
