Misguided Angel (22 page)

It was just as she'd thought. Deming nibbled on her cuticles. Unlike the pretty story Paul had told her about Piper, in this one, everything had been as he'd described.

Deming felt relieved. She had gotten to the truth this time. Or had she? A nagging doubt remained. Everything fit too wel , too simply . . . whether it was because it was the truth or because Paul had prepared another elaborate lie, she just wasn't sure. She had to cover al her bases.

"It's too easy," she muttered.

"What are you thinking?" Sam asked.

"Look, you guys kept those ashes from that burning, right? Have the bloodline checked. Just confirm that it wasn't Victoria."

"Done." Ted nodded and cal ed into the Venator team back at the Repository to order the test.

"Keep a team on Rayburn," Deming ordered. "He'l be waking up soon enough. Then when you guys are done here, meet me back at Bleecker. I want to take another look at those masking spel s. Make sure everything checks out."

FORTY

DeathWalk

Then the Lennox brothers met Deming back at Venator quarters, one look at their drawn faces told her al she had to know. Sam sunk into the nearest battered armchair. "You were right. The bloodline is unmistakable. Victoria Taylor is dead. She's been dead for weeks."

"And we checked the bond records," Ted added. "Victoria didn't have a bondmate in this cycle. Stuart didn't either. They were free agents. At least in this lifetime. But in any event, they weren't together, and they never were. It was al a lie. Al the e-mails were faked."

Deming kept her calm, but her hands were shaking. "Stuart Rhodes?"

Sam shook his head. "The only thing we found at the airport terminal was an urn with remains. The lab's going through it now, but I have a hunch it's Stuart. Looks like the body's been dead for three days. The video was a lie. There was no saving him from the beginning."

"Where's Paul?" she asked.

If it were possible to look more desolate, Ted Lennox managed it. "The team lost him a few hours ago. He slipped away; they don't know how. Look, whoever or whatever this guy is, he's dangerous. He's not one of us, and he's kil ed two vampires already. He's able to conjure a doppelganger. That's real dark magic right there." The Venators had found no trace of the girl in Paul's car in the glom memory, which meant she had never existed.

"And according to you he's able to manipulate his
affectus
. You'd better be careful down there," Sam warned. "Are you sure we can't talk you out of this?"

"No. I need to do this," Deming said. What had Paul said to her?
I heard about you, that you were coming.
He had been able to prepare. He knew al about her. He knew that she relied on her talent, her facile way of knowing what was so hard for other Venators to read. He knew she would be proud of it, arrogant even. He had found a way to use her talent against her.

But he hadn't counted on her ability to learn from her mistakes. She might have been fooled once, but he was wrong to think she would fal for a love story again.

"Right. But even if we can't find him on this side, we'l find him in the glom. I'm going in. We have a DeathWalk to complete."

* * *

Every vampire experienced the glom in a different way. For Deming, the twilight world manifested as an empty plaza in the middle of the Forbidden City, in Beijing. It had been years since she had seen the Forbidden City this way in real life. Nowadays it was crowded with so many tourists it was hard to comprehend the magnitude of its beauty. But in the glom, the ancient wal ed city was silent and empty.

She walked past the guardhouse, through the Outer Court to the Inner one, taking the Imperial Way, a path that was only reserved for the Emperor, until she was standing in the steps of the Hal of Mental Cultivation, which meant she was deep in the protoconscious. In the physical world, her heart stopped beating. She walked the line between the worlds, in the thin membrane that separated the living and the dead.

Paul was waiting for her at the steps of the farthest pavilion. In the glom, his soul was even more beautiful than his eyes. He smiled sadly at her. "I knew you would find me."

Deming walked up to him. Her wings beat against her back. She could choose to appear to him in any form, and came to him as the Angel of Mercy.

"Why did you kil them?"

"It's a long story," he said, putting her hand against his cheek.

"Does it begin in Florence? In the fifteenth century?"

Paul's face lit up. "Why yes. You were getting there, weren't you?"

"You saw the Repository files in my bag. You knew I would find out. That's why you conjured the il usion that afternoon. The girl in your car who was meant to be Victoria."

"Mmm-hmm."

"So tel me, what happened in Florence?"

"It's simple, real y. Stuart and Victoria were part of a sect. They were cal ed the Petruvians. Ghastly group, real y. Butchers. Murderers. The worst kind of slayer. They kil ed in the name of peace, in the name of justice, in the name of God. They kil ed my mother."

"They must have had good reason," Deming protested. "The Code of the Vampires would never al ow--"

"The Code of the Vampires does not protect the innocent!" Paul snapped. "The Code only serves to protect the vampires. No one else matters."

"You're wrong. The Code was created to protect humans. It always has."

Then Deming realized: the symbol of union in the video. Silver Bloods had mated with human women. Paul Rayburn was demon born, Nephilim. The bastard child of Croatan and Red Blood. "You should not exist," she said. "The vampires were not given the gift of creating life." Even Al egra's daughter was considered Abomination by some of the community. No one knew how Schuyler came into being.

"And yet I do. And I am not the only one. Take heed, vampire. For you are not the only orphans of the Almighty on this earth."

Paul raised his hand, and Deming could see he was carrying a
zhanmadao
, a two-handed saber that glittered with hel fire. "I am so very sorry, for I did not lie to you about my love, my sweet Venator. But I cannot al ow you to live. The Mistress wil keep her secrets."

Deming removed the chopsticks from her hair and raised the long sharp blade of Mercy-Kil er. "I am sorry as wel . My love for you was real."

The demon boy smiled. "Yes, you have made me your familiar. Alas, the
Caerimonia
wil not al ow you to harm me. My blood is your own."

He was right, of course. The Sacred Kiss ingrained a loyalty in its vampires so that a Blue Blood would never be able to deliberately harm one's familiar after first bite. The biggest danger was in taking a human to Ful Consumption because of bloodlust. After the Sacred Kiss was sealed, the human would forever be safe from their vampire.

Deming stared at Paul. His shirt col ar was open, and she saw it again. Right at his neck. The triglyph with the symbols from the original hostage video. The sword piercing a star: Lucifer's mark. The sign of union. Last, the image of the lamb.

She had seen it first when she had taken him into her arms and pierced him with her fangs. She had chosen him; she had made him hers. She had done it out of love and duty. He had asked her not to--but only so that her resolution to do exactly what he wanted would be even stronger.

"There's only one problem with that rule," Deming said as she raised her sword. "You're not human." So that was why his blood had tasted strange.

The bitterness of it came from the taste of coal and the underworld.

Paul tried to block her with his blade, but her sword cleaved his in two. He gasped and fel to his knees, and for the first time, he looked afraid. "Think of your love for me," he begged.

of your love for me," he begged.

Deming looked down at him pitilessly. "I am," she told him, and with al the strength she had, she struck her blade deep into his heart.

The Mistress

Florence, 1452

The highest tower in Florence was the unfinished dome, and once again, Tomi and Gio scaled the masonry to the top of the building.

"There's nothing here," Gio said, shaking his head.

Tomi took one more walk around the edge. She looked up at the night sky through the open ceiling. Then she knelt down and tapped on stone
floor. It was hollow. The top of the dome might not be finished, but the floor below it was complete.

"Down the stairs," Tomi said. "Follow me."

The topmost landing was an empty hallway, save for one secret door. Tomi pushed against it, and it opened at her bidding.

Inside, there was a human female. One of the greatest beauties in Florence, whose portrait was painted by many of the city's greatest artists, all
of whom were in love with her.

"Simonetta!" Tomi cried. Simonetta de Vespucci was married to a nobleman in the Medici circle and was rumored to be no other than the great
Lorenzo de Medici's beloved mistress. She had not been seen in the city for a while, and now Tomi knew why.

"Do not come near me!" Simonetta cried, protecting her burgeoning belly. She was nine months pregnant.

When she hugged her stomach, Tomi noticed a mark on her arm. It was the same as the one carried by the man from the Citadel.

Simonetta was no mistress to the Medici.

"Who is your lover?" Gio demanded. "Who is the father of your baby?"

Tomi understood what he was really asking--under whose guise does the Dark Prince walk the earth once again? The Morningstar had returned,
it was clear. But in whose form?

When Simonetta answered, Tomi was not surprised.

The girl named Andreas as the father of her baby.

PART THE FOURTH
FORKS IN

THE ROAD

FORTY-ONE

The Petruvian Order (Schuyler)

Schuyler found a smal room for MariElena in the northwest corner of Santa Maria del Fiore, in a smal hidden ancilary building that housed the Petruvian Order in the Basilica complex. They had arrived in Florence a few hours ago. When Schuyler released him from her compulsion, Ghedi had insisted they take the girl to the priests.

It was a relief to be back in the world again, and the sight of the busy Italian streets, with tourists crammed into the plaza, had invigorated her.

As far as she and Jack could tel , there were very few Petruvians left. They had counted only a handful of priests upon their arrival. The clerics had housed them in a room next to MariElena's, where they waited until the holy men were ready to meet them.

There was a knock on their door, and another young African priest entered the room. "We are ready for you. Please come with me."

He led them through dark passageways into a simple room. In contrast to the magnitude of the complex, it was a plain room with a table and chairs.

Ghedi and two older priests were waiting.

Schuyler and Jack took seats across from them.

"I am Father Arnoldi. I understand that you stopped Father Awale from performing the cleansing rite."

"Cleansing! He was going to kil her," Schuyler protested. "Explain to me how murder is possibly any part of your work."

"When the order was founded by Father Linardi, we were given two directives by the Blessed Ones, and one was the continued purge of the Mistress's children."

"The Mistress?" Jack asked.

The priest nodded. "Lucifer's first human bride. It is said he gave her the gift of eternal life but she was destroyed by the first Petruvians."

"Who are the Blessed Ones?" Schuyler asked.

"The vampires, like yourselves. Our founders."

"You're tel ing me that Blue Bloods sanctioned the kil ing of humans? Of innocent women?" Schuyler demanded.

"They have been marked with the triglyph," the priest said, bowing his head. "They carry the Nephilim. For hundreds of years we have held fast to our mission. We guard the gate. We hunt down the contaminated."

"The gate is a lie. Hel smouth is nothing but a smoke screen. There is no gate there," Schuyler declared.