The Van Alen Legacy (19 page)

He confirmed what she already
knew: that there were dozens, possibly hundreds of other souls living within her.

“The
Croatan
are
insane because none of the spirits have the body for enough time to make it work. They become
imbalanced and unpredictable,
schizo
, as the humans call it.
Usually because
the original host spirit loses control to a strong and forceful personality.”

She shuddered.
“Like I
have.”

“The Visitor.
Yes. But you are aware of the transgression, which means you’ve been able to resist it. And
there’s something else that’s different about you. Do you know what it is?”

“Not really.”

“Your human familiar,
Morgan.
Remember him?”

Bliss remembered the cute
young photo assistant from the Montserrat shoot.

“The Red Blood is poison to
Croatan
, and yet it did not harm you.
Which means, part of you is still
uncorrupted.
And also, you have me,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I keep them from you. I guard
the wall,” he said. “
that’s
the best way I can put it. Imagine there’s a curtain
that stands between your consciousness and the others. I’m that curtain.”

“So basically all that stands
between me and the crazies is . . . you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”
He
shrugged. “Me.”

Bliss cracked a smile.
Suddenly she didn’t feel so alone anymore. She had someone to talk to, and someone who understood
exactly what was happening to her. “I like those odds,” she said.

She was about to say something
else when she was suddenly overcome with rage, a debilitating, inchoate rage, she felt as if she
were frothing at the mouth, choking on her own bile; she gasped for air, doubled up and clutched
her stomach, what was this? What was going on? Why was she so angry? Then she realized. It was
not her anger, this was not her fury. She could feel it, but it wasn’t coming from
her.

“What’s going on?” Bliss
whispered. “It’s him, isn’t it?
The Visitor?
He’s upset.”

“Yes,” Dylan said, looking
worried. ‘
try
not to feel it so much. Push back. Do not let his emotions control
yours.”

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.”

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 . .
.”

“The Watcher has other forms
of communication at her disposal, even deeper than our forays into the glom, which have not been
able to pierce the wall Gabrielle has erected around herself.” Kingsley nodded. “Besides, I have
a feeling that after a year in the Rio slums, I’m sure she’s feeling it too. . . .”

“Feeling what?”

“I think the Watcher wants
what you want, Force,” he said softly. “What’s that?”

“She wants to go
home.

Oliver tracked Schuyler and
Jack to the bottom of the EiffelTower, having triangulated their location from the GPS signal on
Schuyler’s phone, which was now working since they were outside the isleSaint-Louis. His costume
was torn and singed, it seemed a year ago since he and Schuyler had stepped off of that bus.
Schuyler’s heart leapt when she saw him. Oliver! Safe! Whole! This was more than she dreamed
possible.

They were both weeping as they
hugged, and held each other close.

“I thought you were dead,” she
whispered. “
don’t
you ever, ever do that again.
Ever.”

“I could say the same to you,”
Oliver said.

He told them that after they
had left the party, there had been chaos. Leviathan and the Silver Bloods had begun to set fire
to everything, scorching treetops and coming dangerously close to the building itself. It looked
as if the massacre in Rio was happening all over again. But then Charles Force appeared and
fought them off one by one, leading them out of the grounds. Then they had disappeared. It looked
like they had all gone underground.

“Yes,” Jack said. “Charles was
leading them to the intersection.
A portion of the glom that the Silver Bloods can enter
but can never leave.
A space between worlds.”

“Limbo.”
Oliver
nodded.

“So what happened back there?”
Schuyler asked, remembering the strange phenomenon they had experienced.

Jack shook his head. “I’m not
really sure. But whatever it was, I think Charles somehow managed to reverse the process, to stop
the tearing and repair the wound. Otherwise none of us would be standing here.”