The Gates of Paradise (10 page)

ordelia Van Alen had been a connoisseur of the world’s grand hotels, and Schuyler knew she would have approved of the Casa del Mar. The hotel on the edge of the Pacific had a panoramic view of the coastline and the Santa Monica Pier. Oliver had chosen the hotel for its proximity to Los Angeles and its excellent bar. He had booked them separate rooms on the penthouse floor. They were in Schuyler’s room, having gotten into the city via a stopover in New York. The remnants of a late room-service banquet were littered around the living area—silver
platters of shrimp and salad, along with empty green bottles of sparkling water.

“You only live once.” Oliver smiled and admired the view.

“Not if you’re a vampire,” Schuyler reminded him.

“Point taken,” he agreed. “Now, shall we have a dip in the pool and enjoy the scenery, or should we get right to work?”

“I’m a little too anxious for relaxation right now. If my dad is alive, I want to see him as soon as I can. Let’s get started,” she said.

“Excellent.” Oliver got out his laptop and started searching. “Let’s see…the Bendix Corp Web site doesn’t have much information on its board of directors or officers, so that’s not going to do it. Checking for Stephen Chase in LA, but there’s only about a million listings.…This is going to be tough.”

“Look up Bendix, or Ben Chase—I don’t think he always went by Stephen, at least not when he was younger.”

Oliver checked again. “Nothing for Bendix. Another million for Ben. We need to try something different.”

Schuyler peered over his shoulder at the screen. “Are there any news articles about the family? Maybe they’re not in LA proper?”

Oliver ran a search for news articles on the Chase family. “Looking to cross-reference the Bendix Corporation,” he muttered to himself. “Got something—a charity event sponsored by the Chase family. In Malibu. No names or pictures, though.”

“That’s okay,” Schuyler said. “We can look for phone numbers in Malibu—maybe there won’t be as many as in the other places. Stephen, Bendix, Ben, whatever.”

Oliver typed furiously. “No Bendix, which is too bad—that would have been the easiest. No Ben or Stephen, either—found an S. Chase, though. What do you think?”

“Worth a shot.” Schuyler got out her cell phone and dialed the number.

A deep male voice answered. “Good afternoon, Chase residence. Who may I say is speaking?” Schuyler recognized the voice of the butler, of the help.

“This is Schuyler Van Alen. Is this the number for Stephen Chase?”

A pause. Then, “This is the home of Mrs. Chase, his widow.”

“Widow?” Schuyler blurted out.

“May I ask why you’re calling?” the butler asked, sounding a little suspicious.

“I’m, uh…Stephen Chase’s daughter.”

The man coughed. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” he said. “Are you certain you are calling for Stephen
Ronald
Chase?”

Stephen Ronald Chase. Her paternal grandfather. Her heart beat in excitement. This was her
grandmother’s
house. “My name is Schuyler Van Alen and I’m looking for his son, Stephen Bendix Chase. Ben is my father,” she said quietly.

There was a much longer pause.

“I will relay the message to Mrs. Chase, Miss Van Alen. Where can I say you are calling from?”

Schuyler gave him her room number at Casa del Mar and hung up the phone.

“What happened?” asked Oliver.

She told him. She could barely process the idea before the phone rang. It was the butler calling back, with the Chase home address and instructions. Schuyler thanked him profusely before hanging up.

“So apparently my grandmother wants to meet us tomorrow. She’s in Malibu, not too far.”

“
Us?
I think he just meant you, babe.”

“Ollie! I’d hate to go alone,” Schuyler said.

“If all goes well, you won’t be alone. You’ll be with family,” he said firmly. “I’m sure your grandmother won’t want an audience. Shall we discuss it over cocktails?”

Schuyler wondered if she should be concerned that Oliver seemed to be a little too carefree, getting to be more like Kingsley than trying to save the vampires. But then she could really use a drink herself.

The lounge at the Casa del Mar looked out over the ocean, and the bartenders were attentive mixologists, who made up special drinks for each of them. Schuyler’s was
a bittersweet (appropriate, she thought) mix of orange blossoms and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—Pimm’s? Oliver’s was some kind of martini made with absinthe.

“Warn me if you start hallucinating,” Schuyler said.

“A snack will take the edge off, just in case,” Oliver replied, and ordered oysters and sushi. “Now, why are you so nervous about meeting these people? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

“I guess,” Schuyler said. “But I know so little about them, and I don’t think they know anything at all about me. I mean, that butler didn’t really sound surprised that there might be some secret granddaughter roaming around, although maybe that’s just how butlers are supposed to sound. What if my grandmother doesn’t want to have anything to do with me? Don’t you think it’s weird that she agreed to meet with a stranger off the street? And what if this trip turns out to be pointless? We could be wasting valuable time here.”

“Or what if we find exactly what you’ve been searching for all your life?” Oliver said.

“What do you mean? We’re here to find the
sangreal
, aren’t we? That Blood of the Father thing.”

“That’s what
we
need, or the vampires need,” he said. “But it’s not the same thing you’ve been missing.”

“What are you talking about?” Schuyler said, annoyed. She pointed her cocktail fork in his direction. “Stop being so cryptic.”

“Let’s take a step back,” he said. “For most of your life you only knew your mother as an unconscious figure in a hospital bed. You were told that your father was dead. The only family member you thought you had in the world was your grandmother, and she’s gone now, as is your grandfather, who you met only a few years ago. But your father’s family is your family too. Your
human
family. I can imagine why that would be a scary thing to think about. But it could also be awesome.”

“Awesome how?”

“Well, why assume that they’d be such skeptics about you? Why not assume they’d welcome you with open arms, thrilled to have found you? Isn’t that how you’d feel if it turned out your father were alive? Ecstatic?”

“I used to think so,” Schuyler said. “I kept hoping.…But what if I’m wrong? What if he’s awful? Cordelia always intimated that he’d done something terrible. She always told me to stop thinking about him, that he wasn’t worthy of my mother.”

Oliver squirmed in his chair. “She probably just meant he wasn’t worthy of her because he was human.”

Schuyler nodded. “You may have a point there.”

“Cordelia wasn’t a big fan of the relationship, but do
you really think your mother would bond with a guy like that?” Oliver asked gently. “Allegra gave up everything for him. He must be pretty special.”

“Maybe,” Schuyler grudgingly admitted. She’d always loved her father in that obligatory way that anyone has toward an absent relative—like she was supposed to love him because of who he was. But she’d never known him at all. Cordelia had never talked about him, and for Schuyler’s entire childhood, Allegra had been in a coma. When she’d woken up, all she’d cared about was the Van Alen Legacy. There had been no time to tell her daughter anything else, it seemed. Except, when she’d really needed her, Schuyler realized—her mother had appeared to her, right when Schuyler had been torn between choosing to follow her heart with Jack or to remain with Oliver.
You cannot be with
someone just because you don’t want to hurt him. You have your own
happiness to think about.

But if Bendix was still alive…then where the hell had he been all these years? Why had he never visited Allegra? Never tried to contact Schuyler? Not once, not a card, not a phone call. Cordelia might have been an impediment, but what could that matter to a father who loved his
daughter?

“Now, finish your drink, eat some oysters, and fortify for your Oprah reunion.” Oliver winked.

Schuyler laughed. “You’re a good friend, Ollie.”

“Happy to be of service,” he said, and bent over the table in a mock bow.

“Watch it, you almost dunked your hair in your drink,” Schuyler pointed out. “You just missed because it’s pretty much gone.”

“My hair?” Oliver asked in mock horror, running his hands through his thick locks.

“No, your drink.” Schuyler laughed.

“Must be time for a refill, then,” he said.

But before Oliver could summon the bartender, Schuyler heard an unusual beeping noise coming from his cell phone. “Did you get a text?” she asked. “That’s not what it usually sounds like.”

Oliver looked nervous as he picked up the phone to check his message. “Give me a second,” he said, and stepped away from the bar.

Must be pretty bad, Schuyler thought, because she saw his face turn pale.

He walked back to her chair but didn’t sit down.

“What is it?” she asked.

“That wasn’t a text message—it was the emergency beacon from the Repository in New York. It’s never gone off before, or at least I’ve never been the one to receive the signal, so it took me a minute to figure out what it was. Something really bad has happened. I have to go back right away.”

“Should I come with you?” Schuyler asked, worried.

“No, you have important things to do here. Go find your family tomorrow, and keep me updated on what happens. Stay and finish your drink, and get some food in you. We’ll talk soon.”

It was just as she’d expected. She was on her own. Except for that lingering feeling that someone was very close—and keeping an eye on her. But she had gotten accustomed to it; and since nothing had happened so far, she chalked it up to nerves and anxiety and decided to forget all about it.

awson drove back to Hunting Valley as if the devil was on his tail, his feelings in turmoil. He’d always been impulsive, and he had left Bliss in New York without thinking—he’d been angry and had done the first thing that came to mind. Left. He’d wanted her to come with him, and while he had lied—he
did
understand that her friends were important to her—what he hadn’t been able to say was that he wanted to know that
he
was important to her too.

And just as she needed to find Oliver and Schuyler and reunite with Jane, he needed to find Arthur. Arthur had saved them when they were lost, and if he was lost now, it was their job to bring him back.

His wolf pack was waiting for him when he reached the cavern. Malcolm literally jumped for joy when he saw him, and Ahramin unexpectedly threw herself into his arms for
a hug. “What was that for?” he asked.

“We missed you,” she said, shrugging.

Edon frowned. Ahramin must be trying to make him jealous, Lawson thought. She was always playing games like that. He wanted to tell Edon he had nothing to worry about.

“What do we know so far?” he asked.

“Look around,” Rafe said. “The place is a mess. No blood, but no claw marks, either. Doesn’t look like hounds from when they attacked the first time. This is new.”

“Not hounds, then,” Lawson said. Silver Bloods? Maybe they’d drained Arthur, and that was why there wasn’t any blood. He hated the thought of it. He’d seen the work of the Silver Blood in the Repository and shuddered to think of his friend as one of their victims.

Malcolm seemed to know what he was thinking. “If it was a vampire, there would be blood,” he said.

“We have to assume he got away, then,” Lawson said.

“Where would he go? And wouldn’t he leave us some sort of sign if he’d had any chance to?” asked Rafe.

Edon nodded grudgingly. “We’ve been digging around, but we haven’t been able to come up with much. Just about everything is ruined.”

“Just about?”

“We found a book,” Malcolm said. “
Through the Looking-
Glass.
Arthur was always getting on me to read it.”

Weird thing to leave behind, Lawson thought. “What’s it about?”

“A fairy tale about a mirror that takes you to another world,” Malcolm explained.

Huh. “Did you go into Arthur’s room?” Lawson asked.

“Of course we did,” Edon snapped. “We looked everywhere!”

“Remember that gold mirror he somehow lugged down here?” Lawson asked. “How strange we thought it was that he’d carry it around with him? Did that get trashed too, or is it still standing?”

“It’s still there,” Rafe said. “We tried everything.”

“I have an idea,” Lawson said. “Follow me.”

They worked their way through the rubble until they reached Arthur’s room, where the only thing left intact was the enormous old-fashioned mirror. Lawson looked at the ground in front of it.

Footprints.

Lawson grinned as he pushed on the mirror.

Nothing happened.

“See? We tried that too,” Rafe said.

Lawson didn’t give up. He ran his hands along its length until he felt a button.

“What are you doing?” Malcolm asked.

“Give me a second.”

Lawson pushed the button, and the mirror opened outward, nearly hitting him in the face.

“So he did leave us a clue,” Edon said. He didn’t sound so annoyed anymore, but Lawson didn’t have time to be grateful.

“There’s a passageway back here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The five of them entered the passageway single file, with Lawson in front. Rafe closed the door, leaving them in darkness, but Lawson turned on his phone, and the passageway lit up, just enough so they could see their way forward. They only had to walk for a few minutes before they reached a door.

“Is it open?” Rafe whispered.

“No,” Lawson whispered back.

“Should we force it?”

“Let me try something else,” Lawson said, and knocked.

And waited.

And waited.

And then…the door opened.

“Well, it’s about time,” Arthur said, looking up from his book. “What took you so long?”

The room behind the cavern was enormous. It was really more of an apartment than a room, complete with a kitchen and dining table.

“So this is where you really live,” Lawson said.

“An old warlock needs to have his secrets,” Arthur said, with a wink. He turned to Ahramin. “Hello, my dear. And you are…?”

“I’m Ahramin,” she said, almost shyly. Lawson had never seen Ahramin nervous like this, but it was probably because she’d never met a warlock before. Not that there was anything to be scared about, as Arthur was a true friend of the wolves. He had explained to Lawson that long ago he’d owed a favor to a Fallen angel named Gabrielle, who had turned out to be Bliss’s mother. Gabrielle had asked him to help the wolves, and so he had.

“And Bliss?” Arthur asked.

Lawson didn’t flinch at her name. He quickly explained what had happened, how they’d fixed the issues with the timeline but got stuck trying to go to the underworld; then how he and Bliss had gone to New York to try to find her friends. “But you still haven’t told us what happened here. How did you escape the attack? Who attacked you? And what can we do to reopen the passages?”

Arthur laughed. “One thing at a time, my boy, one thing at a time. The Hellhounds left me alone once you disappeared. That mess up there is merely an illusion. As soon as it became clear you weren’t coming back anytime soon, and there was danger afoot, I knew I needed a better hiding place. What better way to escape an attack than to convince potential attackers that one has already occurred? I made the place a glorious mess.”

“You did a good job,” Edon said.

“Too good,” Lawson said. “We almost didn’t figure it out.”

“Oh, I knew you would. Such a simple clue, really. I almost worried that whoever came to attack me might cotton to it.”

“Did anyone come?” Rafe asked.

“Trackers, but they left. No hounds.”

“Well, what have you been doing here all year?” Malcolm asked.

“Don’t be rude,” Ahramin said.

Said the pot to the kettle, Lawson thought, but he was curious to hear Arthur’s answer.

“I’ve been working on your problem,” Arthur said.

“But we only just found out about it,” Lawson said, puzzled.

“When it took you such a long time to return, I started to worry and thought I would look into it. As it happens, I’ve discovered why the passages are out of sync. There’s been a rift in time.”

“What does that mean?” Edon asked.

“I’ll show you,” Arthur said. He retrieved a map from a drawer, one Lawson had never seen before. “This is a time map I discovered. Do you see this image here?” He pointed.

Lawson looked closer. The map was largely made up of pictures, but where Arthur pointed, there were two identical images, side by side, followed by a series of images that looked similar at first and then started looking different. But after studying the images for a minute, Lawson realized the first two weren’t identical. They were mirrored.

“Do you notice the difference?” Arthur asked. “The images on the map should all be unique, because there should only be one true path through time. But something broke, and now there are two paths. They’ve been there for a while. It’s amazing you’ve been able to move through the passages until now, since that break has caused a ripple effect that slowly created enough of a blockage that the passages are rendered useless. If that blockage is allowed to spread, time as we know it will cease to exist, and the world will crumble into chaos and disorder.”

Lawson had a feeling he knew what that meant. The wolves were members of the Praetorian Guard, keepers of the timeline. If something had gone wrong, it was their job to fix it. “What do we do?” he asked.

“You have to find the passage and fix the broken part. You’ll have to travel to its location since you can’t use the passages themselves anymore.”

“How will we know where to look?”

“I know that the break took place during the Roman Empire, during Caligula’s reign, so you’ll have to go to Rome and try to find the ancient path, the one that led to the creation of the first Gate of Hell. That’s the best I can do, for now.”

“Did we cause this?” Malcolm asked. “When we went back there? Is this all our fault?”

“No, dear boy,” Arthur said. “Do not blame yourself. This is the work of the Fallen. Bliss is part of this. I’m sure she is. She should be here with you.”

Lawson did not disagree.

“If she’s really one of us now, then we should be her priority,” said Ahramin. “Why is she running to the vampires? She’s not one of them anymore.”

Much as Lawson hated to admit it, Ahramin had a point. Bliss was part of the pack, and the pack needed her. He needed her. He had told her as much before he left, but maybe he should try again.

Bliss picked up right away when he called her cell phone. “You’re not on the plane yet?” He didn’t apologize for leaving, but then Bliss didn’t expect him to. They had let each other down.

“I’m at the airport,” she said. “What’s up? Did you find Arthur? Is he okay?”

“We did and he is,” he said, and briefly explained what they’d learned. His voice dropped so that no one else could hear him. “Listen, I know you’re worried about your friends, and I will keep my promise to you. But the thing is, Arthur thinks what’s happened to the passages affects your friends as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Then his voice dropped even lower still. “I’m sorry I left the way I did. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered.

“So let’s be sorry together.”

Bliss smiled into the phone. “Okay, I was just about to get on a plane to London, but I can go back to Ohio instead.”

“No, don’t,” Lawson said. “Meet us in Rome.”