Revelations (12 page)

Their “mother”—Mimi always thought of the word in air quotes, since Trinity was as much her mother as Jack was her brother—had requested their presence before dinner. She had intimated that she wanted to talk to them about something important concerning their bonding.

“I have a feeling.” Mimi smiled. She ruffled Jack’s hair, and in return he put a hand on her waist and drew her close to him. They had always been affectionate, and even though she was aware of his continuing duplicity, she could not harden her heart against him. Jack hadn’t agreed to bonding so early in the cycle, but on the other hand, he hadn’t done anything to stop it either.

Perhaps the dalliance with Schuyler was simply that. Jack was just using her as an amusement. A side dish. Mimi certainly understood. She had found a tasty new familiar, and had been so voracious in her appetite she had almost killed the boy the other day. He would be all right; nothing that rest and a week away from a certain blond vampire couldn’t cure.

Mimi looked around with approval. Trinity’s home office was famous among her set for being the most lavish and impeccable. Hung on the velvet walls were life-size portraits of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century aristocrats by Vigée-LeBrun and Winterhalter. There was an Erard piano in the corner—the very same one Chopin used to compose his etudes.

The
bonheurs du jour,
a small, elegant writing table where Trinity wrote her one-word thank you cards (“Bravo!” was her usual exhortation after attending a friend’s dinner party) was originally commissioned for the Grand Trianon.

Mimi decided that when she came into her massive inheritance, and she and Jack bought their own place at 740 Park, she would hire the same decorator.

A few minutes later, Trinity entered the room holding two long ebony boxes embossed with gold filigree. Mimi’s senses shifted, her memories racing, and she suddenly knew why they were there. “But where’s Charles?” she cried. “We can’t do this without him, can we?”

“I tried, my dear. But he won’t leave his study. He’s just…” Trinity shook her shoulders ever so slightly. Mimi understood that her mother adhered to a rigid code of etiquette. As distressed as she might be about her husband’s condition, she would never admit to it or show any outward display of exasperation. She was a woman who was fundamentally unequipped to make a scene.

Charles’s deterioration since losing his position as Regis of the Coven was something that the Forces never spoke about. It baffled and troubled them, but there was nothing they could do about it. They assumed Charles would simply snap out of it one day. Meanwhile, the company and all its holdings was run by a highly efficient board of directors, who had stopped inquiring as to whether their chairman and founder would ever attend another meeting.

“It’s all right,” Jack assured his twin. He too knew what was about to happen and couldn’t disguise the excitement in his voice. “We don’t need him.”

“Are you sure?” Mimi asked, looking disappointed. “But without the Archangel’s blessing …”

“They will be just as deadly,” Jack soothed. “Nothing can change their power. Their power comes from the two of us.” He nodded to Trinity. “Shall we begin, Mother?”

In answer, Trinity bowed her head. “I shall be honored to perform the rite.” She closed the door quietly and dimmed the overhead lights. The boxes on the coffee table emanated a soft, hazy glow.

“I regret my hastiness in judging the precipitancy of your bonding. I was wrong, forgive me. It is perhaps only that I am saddened that I myself can no longer be bonded to my twin.”

Mimi knew Trinity’s story. Trinity was Sandalphon, the Angel of Silence. She had lost her twin to the Silver Bloods during the battle in Rome. Trinity had married Charles only in the Red Blood sense when his twin, Allegra, had broken their bond. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. Trinity mourned the angel Salgiel’s passing still.

Trinity opened the cases. Nestled inside were two swords holstered in jeweled scabbards. Swords that would be worn underneath their garments at the bonding. Swords that they would now be allowed to use in the fight against the Croatan.

She picked up the first sword still in its scabbard and turned to Jack. “Kneel, Abbadon.”

Jack stood up from his chair and walked to stand in front of Trinity. He knelt before her, his head bowed low.

Trinity raised the sword above her head. “With the authority of the Heavens vested in me, I, Sandalphon, confer upon you all the rights and privileges appertaining thereto as the true owner of
Eversor Orbis.”

World-Breaker.

She then tapped Jack’s right and left shoulder with the sword. “Rise, Abbadon of the Dark.”

Jack rose with a grim smile on his face as he accepted his sword. Trinity smiled proudly. Then she turned to Mimi.

“Kneel, Azrael.”

Mimi took a moment to get in position, due to her high heels. Trinity picked up the second sword and once again raised it over her head.

“With the authority of the Heavens vested in me, I, Sandalphon, confer upon you all the rights and privileges appertaining thereto as the true owner of
Eversor Lumen.”

Light-Destroyer.

Mimi felt the sword tap her lightly on both shoulders. Then she stood up with a broad smile on her face. She turned to Jack, who nodded. Together the twins unsheathed their swords and lifted them aloft, pointing them to the Heavens.

“We accept these weapons as our divine right. Forged in Heaven, cast on Earth, they are our attendants in our search for Redemption.”

Trinity joined them as they finished the litany of the Swords.

“Use them only in direst need.

“Keep them hidden from foes.

“Strike only to kill.”

While they had received their swords at every bonding over the centuries, they had not been truly unsheathed in millennia. The Silver Bloods had been vanquished, or so they had believed. Mimi looked with wonder at the shining weapon in her hand. She remembered its weight and the sharpness of its blade. Remembered the terror it had once wrought in her enemies.

She noticed how Abbadon was holding his delicately, lovingly. One’s sword was an extension of one’s self. Unique, irreplaceable, unforgettable. Vampire swords changed shape and color and size. When needed they could become as wide as axes or as narrow as needles.

At the bonding, she would wear it on her hip, under the silk petticoats that would give her dress its shape.

Trinity turned the lights back to their full brightness. “All right, then.” She nodded as if they had just finished talking about something small and trivial instead of having completed something wondrous and life-changing. In the afternoon light, with the sound of taxicabs zooming down the avenues and the metallic beeps from Trinity’s fax machine (receiving yet another copy of a press clip in which she had been written up), it was hard to imagine the world as full of primitive, hidden dangers. How to reconcile a world with instant-messaging and twenty-four-hour news channels with the world of steel and blood.

But that is what their people did: they evolved, they adapted, they survived.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jack asked, as they took leave of their mother and went their separate ways.

“You betcha.” Mimi nodded, tucking the ebony case under her arm. She ran up to her room and shoved it in the back of her closet behind a rack of shoes.

She was late for Pilates. If she was going to be the most beautiful bride the Coven had ever seen, she’d better haul ass to her trainer’s studio right away. She had arms to sculpt.

Cordelia Van Alen Personal File

Repository of History

CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT:

Altithronus Clearance Only

May 9, 1995

Dear Forsyth,

As you know, I have deeply appreciated your steadfast loyalty and friendship to the
Van Alen family. It troubles me that we have been estranged of late due to your decision to
run and hold a Red Blood office in direct violation of The Code. While I am not convinced
you made the right choice, I respect it.

I am writing to beseech you to change your mind concerning your decision not to
bring the new spirit of the Watcher into your family.

I must insist that you reconsider. We need vigilance more than ever, and the wisdom
of the Watcher to guide us on our way. I fear Charles and his arrogance will bring nothing
but doom to our people.
Forsyth, I appeal to your friendship. Take the Watcher and your
family. As a safeguard against the forces of the Dark.

Your friend,
Cordelia Van Alen

Twenty-two

Transitions Residential Treatment Center was located in a sprawling multi-building campus in upstate New York. Oliver had offered to drive Bliss and Schuyler, since he had recently gotten his license along with a hot new Mercedes G500. The boxy custom-made silver SUV was his latest source of pride.

Schuyler was glad to get away. She’d been feeling guilty about what had happened to Dylan, how much they’d failed him by neglecting to alert the Conclave about his condition as soon as possible. Hopefully the Elders would know the best course of action. Bliss told them her father assured her that Dylan would come to no harm at their hands and would be given the best treatment possible, but she wanted to see it with her own eyes—they all did.

In the backseat, Bliss fluctuated between being kind of bummed and being a little too cheerfully manic, Schuyler noticed. She’d been morose and silent when they left, probably worried about Dylan and what condition they would find him in, and Schuyler was glad when halfway through the trip out of the city Bliss perked up and began to jabber energetically over the GPS.

“Peanut M&M’s?” Bliss offered, leaning over with a large open yellow bag.

“No thanks,” Oliver said, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Sure,” Schuyler agreed. It was funny how the Committee couldn’t predict everything: even though they were vampires they hadn’t lost their taste for candy.

It was pleasant to leave Duchesne, if only for a day. Everyone at school knew all the details of Mimi and Jack’s upcoming bonding already (or at least the Blue Bloods did) and couldn’t stop talking about it. The others just thought the Forces were throwing a fabulous party that they weren’t invited to again, and in a way their assumption was correct. Schuyler was sick of hearing about Mimi’s dress and how this bonding compared to all the past ones in their shared history. Piper Crandall constantly reminded everyone that she had been a bondsmaid for Mimi three times already.

It was depressing to think that Jack and Mimi had been together for such an incomprehensibly long time. She almost couldn’t believe it and didn’t want to think about it right then, and busied herself by playing with all the buttons on the shiny new dashboard computer. “Dude, this is like, the most luxurious army vehicle in the world. Check this out! This is the button that launches the M-15s,” she joked.

“Careful, that’s the red button that destroys the world,” Oliver said gamely, following the GPS’s robotic instructions as he steered the car over the George Washington Bridge.

Traffic was light on the highway.

It was the first time they’d cut school all semester. Duchesne students were allowed several cuts per year; the school was so progressive that even rebellion was written into the curriculum. Some kids, like Mimi Force, pushed this policy to its limits, but most didn’t even take advantage of it. The school was filled with overachieving strivers who would sooner stay in class than blow a chance at getting into an Ivy. Every day counted.

“You guys know that this could ruin my GPA,” Oliver complained as he looked over his shoulder to change lanes and get ahead of a Honda that was tooling around below the speed limit.

“Relax for once, will you?” Schuyler chided. “All the seniors have been cutting since they got their acceptance letters.” Oliver could be such a stick-in-the-mud sometimes. Always following rules. He was a total nerd when it came to academics.

“Yeah, aren’t you legacy at Harvard anyway?” Bliss asked.

“College seems like such a weird thing, doesn’t it?” Schuyler mused.

“I know what you mean. Before we found out about the Committee, I thought I might go to Vassar, you know? Major in Art History or something.” Bliss said. “I kind of liked the idea of studying Northern Renaissance art, and then working in a museum or gallery.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of liked’?” Schuyler asked.

“Yeah, you don’t think that’s going to happen anymore?” Oliver asked, flipping through the radio stations. Amy Winehouse was singing about how she didn’t want to go to rehab (“No! No! No! No!”). Schuyler met Oliver’s eyes, and they smiled.

“You guys, that is so not funny. Turn it off or change it,” Bliss admonished. “I don’t know. I kind of don’t think I’m going to college. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a future,”

she said, twisting her necklace.

“Oh shush,” Schuyler said, turning around so she could talk directly to Bliss while Oliver found something more appropriate on the satellite radio. “Of course you’re going to college. We all are.”

“You really believe that?” Bliss asked, sounding hopeful.

“Totally.”

Conversation dropped to a lull after a few minutes, and Bliss drifted off to sleep. In the front seat, Schuyler chose the music, Oliver letting her DJ this time. “You like this song?”

he asked, when she settled on a station playing a Rufus Wainwright tune.

“Don’t you?” she asked, feeling as if she’d been caught red-handed. It was the same song she and Jack always played. She thought she could get away with listening to it in the car. Oliver had a bit of an emo streak in him. She liked to tease him that his musical tastes ran toward music-to-off-yourself-by.

“You’d think I would, right? But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Oliver shrugged, looking at her sideways. “It’s like…too blubbery or something. Ech.”