“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.
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 VIP
rooms 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.
“Why? Does he own the club?” Oliver asked.
“Better. He’s the consigliere,” the waitress said.
“He’s a mobster?” Oliver looked confused.
“Sort of. He’s Helda’s right-hand man. How about that,”
Mimi said, leaning back in the booth and taking a moment to assess the situation. No wonder the underworld had put up such a tough fight during their journey. Helda would not want to lose her closest adviser just because Mimi wanted her boy-friend back.
“Huh. Well, it’s good to have friends in high places, right?” Oliver asked, with a nervous smile.
Mimi did not answer. She had found Kingsley, but it appeared that Helda had been telling the truth. Kingsley was far from lost, and had no ambition to be found.
The Bride Wore Orange
“Youlookbeautiful,”Charlessaid,findingAllegrastanding before her dressing room mirror, getting ready for the evening.
She turned around and smiled as she finished putting on her earrings. “You remember these?” she asked. “You gave them to me in Rome.”
“I do.” He nodded. “They were from Greek artisans; they cost me a fortune.”
“Thank goodness Cordelia didn’t auction them off. I was worried I wouldn’t find anything after she did her spring-cleaning.” Allegra carefully removed a necklace from her jewelry box. It was a Carnelian necklace, from Egypt. “Help me with this one?”
Charles carefully laid it on her neck and clicked the lock into place. He kissed the back of her neck tenderly.
“Now, go on with you. Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” Allegra smiled, even though she was far from superstitious, as this was only one of innumerable bond-ings they had shared since the beginning of time, after all. She felt lighter—and for the first time since Florence, she did not doubt herself. She looked forward to moving on with her life, to their life together, as well as to the party that would immediately follow the ceremony.
The Coven was gathered at the Temple of Dendur, and soon she would make her way to the altar and say the words that would bind her to her twin in this lifetime.
She had dressed in a way to remind everyone of their storied history, with the Roman earrings, the Egyptian necklace, a dress made of silk and linen cut close to the body. Hattie had woven lavender into her hair so that Allegra wore it just as she had at their bonding in Rome. She did not wear a white dress, but donned a gown of a ravishing orange hue, just as she had on the Nile. Bright and happy and festive. Then there was the veil, a curtain of silk that would cover her head.
As was the custom, Charles would travel to the bonding on his own, with his attendants, and Allegra would arrive a few minutes after. They would meet in front of the temple steps at sunset.
She was almost ready when there was a knock on her bedroom door. “There’s someone downstairs for you. Says he’s an old friend of yours,” Hattie said, sounding a bit skeptical.
“Who is it?”
“He wouldn’t say. I told Julius not to let him in. I don’t want you to be late.”
“This really isn’t a good time,” Allegra said. “Can’t you get rid of him?”
“We’ve tried, but he won’t budge. maybe it’s best if you do the shooing.”
Allegra walked carefully down the stairs in her jeweled slippers and walked out the front door to find Ben Chase idling by the stoop, with Julius, their driver, keeping a watchful eye on him.
“Hey,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey. Sorry is this a bad time …?” He looked at her dress and veil. “Costume party?”
“No, it’s…” She could not tell him what she was wearing.
Of course he didn’t know. It was her bonding gown, but Red Bloods wore white to their weddings. “What are you doing here?”
He stuck his hands in his coat pocket and cocked his head to the park. “Wanna take a walk with me?”
“Right now?” Allegra looked at her watch. She was supposed to be en route to the met right now.
Julius looked at her curiously. “We’ll be late, miss.” But what bride was ever on time for her bonding?
And if there was ever a time to hear what Ben needed to say, it was now. After tonight it would be too late. “Sure.” She kicked off her high heels and changed into a pair of flip-flops she kept in the foyer.
They walked a few blocks down to Riverside Park, and walked by the water. The leaves were starting to turn. It would be winter soon, cold. Their shoes crunched in the leaves. Her dress made a rustling noise in the grass. In an hour, she would be bonded to Charles.
Allegra spoke first. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t get married,” he said.
“Hmm,” she said, not knowing quite what to think, and somehow not surprised. When she saw him at the stoop, her heart had taken a grand leap, and she knew instantly that this was what he was going to say. Somehow, even though she believed this part of her life was over and the danger had passed, it was as if someone kept opening the book to the same page—someone was insisting that she and Ben see each other again. Who was that someone? Was it her? Was it him? Why was it suddenly so easy to forget about the carefully orches-trated plans for her bonding day? She was supposed to get in the car now. In a few minutes she was supposed to be standing in the temple.