“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” She would never have believed that protection from a Red Blood could amount to anything. The blood spell was the essence of malice, and a protection was its opposite. It was a form of self-sacrifice—fashioning a talisman meant that whoever gave it went unprotected himself, vulnerable to whatever evil lurked in the universe.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Oliver said.
“I haven’t.”
“I mean, it’s just my job. Can’t have the Regent die on my watch, can I?”
“I suppose not.” Mimi couldn’t look him in the eyes. He wasn’t her type, even though he wasn’t bad-looking, and most girls would probably find him cute, with those long bangs and puppy dog eyes. But no—that was not the emotion she was feeling.
She was feeling something else. Gratitude. Affection. She had never felt this way for a boy before. She had experienced desire and lust and the agony of love, but had never fallen in like.
She liked him. Oliver, she was beginning to realize, in the space of just a few weeks, was her friend, and she was his. They had never cared for each other in the past, but somehow, because they were both alone and in mourning, he understood where she was coming from, and didn’t judge her for her fits of grief and rage. He’d been there. He was feeling it too.
Plus, they worked together well. Because there was no attraction, no tension, they could laugh and tease and joke around. In the middle of this crazy mess, she’d made a friend.
“Don’t,” he warned.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t get all mushy. I still don’t like you very much.” He smiled.
“I still don’t like you very much either,” Mimi said, even though she knew they were both lying. Her face softened. “Hey. Thank you. I mean it. Thanks for looking out,” she said, trying not to cringe. It was hard for her to owe anyone anything, most of all a human.
“I did a little digging around the Repository files. I thought you might find this interesting. According to the Book of Spells, a subvertio does not kill the immortal spirit. It only consigns them to the deepest circle of the Underworld.”
Mimi put the gold cross away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Listen, if you can find a gate and walk down the Path of the Dead, you can get him out. He can’t do it on his own. But with the Angel of Death, he may be able to,” Oliver said excitedly.
“There’s just one thing: who knows where the other gates are? I don’t have time to go on another wild goose chase.”
“I went through the rest of Lawrence Van Alen’s notes again. I think there’s a real possibility that the Gate of Promise isn’t in Florence, but in Alexandria.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Mimi asked.
“The Venators have found your brother. He’s left Florence. Jack refuses to turn himself in to them. He says he’ll only submit to you. And he’s alone.”
“I saw that report,” Mimi said. “You are very crafty, my friend. My brother returns to the city to face his fate, and so you dangle hope that I might find Kingsley, in order to get me out of town. Why do you even care? With Jack out of the way, she won’t have a choice but to return to you.”
“We can be in Cairo by nightfall,” Oliver said, ignoring Mimi’s taunting.
“We?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You’ll need backup.”
“So . . . all roads lead to Hell.” She rested her head on her hands. She could go to Egypt and rescue her love, or she could stay in New York and face her brother and sentence him to death.
“Well? I doubt Kingsley is enjoying himself down there.”
Mimi stood up. “Pack your bags. We’ll leave tonight. Tell the Venators to hold my brother until I return. I’ll deal with him then. Who says I can’t kill two birds with one stone?”
Mimi smiled. She would have her love. Then she would have her revenge.
FORTY-THREE
Hunter and Hunted (Deming)
Paul Rayburn was dead. He had exacted his vengeance on his mother’s killers, but Deming had brought him to justice. She had done what she had set out to do. She felt the pain of his death in her blood and in her soul, but her determination was resolute. She faced the twin Venators sitting opposite from her. “He said there are others like him in the world. We must find them.”
Sam Lennox nodded. “Where will you begin your hunt?”
“I went through his file. His passport was filled with stamps from the Middle East. That’s where I’ll start,” she said. The Nephilim did not cycle through reincarnations. Their demon provenance made them Enmortal.
“Are you with me?” she asked the brothers.
“It beats staying around here waiting for Jack Force to show up.” Ted shrugged. “I’ll talk to the Regent, have another team assigned to that case.”
“Good. My sister will join us once we arrive.” She smiled. “You’ll like her. She’s just like me.”
“Oh great,” Sam said, exchanging a meaningful look with his brother. “There’s two of them.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the family, especially my husband and collaborator, Mike Johnston, and our baby girl, Mattie (who isn’t a baby anymore but will always be our baby). Thank you to the DLC and Johnston families and all our extendeds. We love you.
Thank you to my dear friends who supported me during the worst year of my life. Thank you to my publishing family at Hyperion, especially my editors and champions, Jennifer Besser, Christian Trimmer, and Stephanie Lurie; and my publicist and marketing gurus, Jennifer Corcoran and Nellie Kurtzman, who have been taking care of me from the beginning of my YA career. Thank you to my agent and best advocate, Richard Abate.
I also want to extend a very special thank you to Dr. Luis Martinez, Dr. Steven Applebaum, Dr. Ramin Khalili, Dr. Cary Manoogian, and to all their nurses and office staff who took care of my dad during his battle with cancer, especially Stacey Christ, Kim Medeiros, Michelle Huber, Emma Martinez, Diane Saenz, Jessica Osorio, Vivian Montes, and Rose Ramirez. Thank you all for everything you did for Pop—our family will always treasure the loving care you provided, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the six “bonus years” he enjoyed.
Misguided Angel (Blue Bloods) Page 18
