"Allegra is practically dead at her own hands. Charles argued that the sentence could not be carried out while she was unconscious. But once she wakes up, she is subject to the laws, as well as he."
"Then why does he keep hoping that she will wake up one day?" Schuyler asked, thinking of Charles kneeling by her mother's bedside.
"Charles refuses to acknowledge the breaking. But he will have to. If she wakes up, the Coven will insist on a trial."
"But you are Regis. You could save her," Schuyler insisted. You could save Jack.
"No one is above the Code, Schuyler. Not even your mother," Lawrence said, and Schuyler could swear she heard anguish in his voice.
"So Jack will lose his life one way or another."
Lawrence cleared his throat and tapped the ashes from his pipe onto the crystal ashtray. "If he breaks the bond, even if he manages to escape trial, his spirit will diminish. There is no death for our kind, but he will be fully aware of his paralysis. Fortunately he has never been tempted to break his vows. Abbadon is a flirt and a rogue, but he is loyal at his core. He will not sever ties to Azrael so easily. But Schuyler, tell me, why all this interest?"
"We were learning about it in the Committee meetings is all, Grandfather."
So that was why Jack never wanted to talk about it. Because there was no way to escape the bond. He had lied to her. A lie born of love. There was no hope for the two of them. He was putting himself at risk by resisting it.
Mimi was right. Mimi was telling the truth.
Without the bond Jack would never be the vampire he was meant to be. He would be half of himself, weakened and destroyed. It would happen slowly over the centuries, but it would happen. His spirit would die. And if that did not get him, the laws would. Mimi would hunt him down. The Conclave would condemn him to the Burning. By loving Schuyler he was risking his very soul. The longer they continued to meet, the more danger he was putting himself in.
It had to end.
She thought wistfully of their last meeting. That heavenly evening full of art and poetry, how handsome and brave he'd looked when he spoke about breaking the bond. What he would risk to be with her. Schiele's painting came to mind again. There was a reason why she loved it so much. Two lovers, embracing, as if it were their last. Just as in Anne Sexton's "The Break," Schuyler's story was one of a shattered heart.
There would be no more nights by the fire. No more books slipped under her door. No more secrets.
Good-bye, Jack.
As hard as it would be, as much as it would destroy her very will to even live, Schuyler knew what she had to do.
She had to tell another lie.
A lie that would release him.
AUDIO RECORDINGS ARCHIVE:
Repository of History
CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT:
Altithronus Clearance Only
Cordelia Van Alen Personal File
Transcript, of conversation dated 12/25/98.
Cordelia Van Alen: Come here, child. Do you know me?
Jordan Llewellyn: Seraphiel.
CVA: Good.
CVA: Do you know why I have brought you?
JL: (child's voice changes) I am Pistis Sophia. The Watcher. A spirit born with its eyes wide open, born into full consciousness. Why have you woken me?
CVA: Because I am afraid.
JL: What are you afraid of?
CVA: I am afraid that we have failed. That the battle in Rome was a farce. That our greatest enemy still walks this earth, but I do not know how. You are Jordan Llewellyn. For this cycle you are the daughter of Forsyth Llewellyn. If my suspicions are correct, then you will be our first line of defense.
JL: What must I do?
CVA: You shall watch and listen and observe.
JL: And then?
CVA: If what I fear is true, you must complete what we failed to do in Rome. But I cannot help you. I am bound by the Code. This is the last time we shall speak.
JL: I understand, Godmother.
CVA: Be well, child. Take my blessing on your journey May it keep you safe. Facio Valiturus Fortis. Be strong and brave. Till we meet again.
JL: See you in the next life.
Pain.
Searing pain.
As if someone were holding a hot poker to her heart. It was scalding, burning. She could feel her skin turn red, then black, could smell the smoke rising from her frying flesh. This was nothing like the attack at the Repository. She would not survive this.
Bliss tore through the miasma of sleep, forced herself to wake up. Wake up! Wake up! It was like being suffocated and torn apart at the same time. But she salvaged what power she had, and gathered all of her effort, all of her strength, and successfully pushed the pain away.
There was a crash and a scream.
She blinked awake and sat up on the couch. She had taken a nap in their suite after coming back from the beach. She was still trying to make sense of what had happened when the door flew open and her parents appeared in the doorway.
In the dark she saw Jordan lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, holding something bright and glittering in her hand.
Her parents assessed the situation quickly, almost professionally, as if they had been expecting something like this to happen.
"Quick, BobiAnne, she's still stunned. Set the spell," Forsyth said as he began to bundle up his younger daughter with the hotel's comforter and blankets.
"What's going on? What are you guys doing?" Bliss asked groggily. Things were happening much too fast for her understanding.
"Look," Forsyth said, removing a small blade from Jordan's hand and tossing it to his wife. "She picked the vault."
Bliss tried to make sense of everything, but logical thinking eluded her in her dizzy and disoriented state. Was she going insane, or did Jordan just try to kill her?
She flinched as her stepmother put a hand on her brow. "She's warm," she told her husband. Then she lifted Bliss's shirt and examined her chest. "But I think she's okay."
Forsyth nodded, kneeling to rip Bliss's sheets into strips so that he could tie the comforter holding Jordan closed.
Thinking the pain had come from the emerald stone, Bliss looked down at her chest. It felt as if the stone had burned itself on her skin, branding her. But when she touched it, it was as cool as ever. Her skin underneath was smooth and unharmed. Then she understood. The emerald had saved her from whatever weapon had just tried to pierce her heart.
"She's fine," BobiAnne announced after checking Bliss's pupils and pulse. "Good girl. You gave us quite a scare," she said, tapping her pockets for her Marlboro Lights.
BobiAnne lit a cigarette and sucked on it deeply until it formed a long column of ash. Bliss noticed that her stepmother's face was perfectly made up for a party, and both her parents were dressed in formal dinner clothes.
"What's going on? Why did Jordan attack me?" Bliss asked, finally finding her voice and turning to face her father.
It took a few minutes for him to answer. Forsyth Llwellyn's reputation in the Senate was as of a moderate facilitator, someone who was willing to negotiate with the other side, to bring consensus to warring parties. His smooth Texan charm came in handy during partisan battles in the legislature.
Bliss could see he was turning this charm on her now. "Sweetie, you have to realize that Jordan is different from us," Forsyth said, securing the bundle that held his younger daughter. "She's not one of us."
"One of us? What do you mean?"
"You'll understand in time," he assured her.
"We were forced to take her. We had no choice!" BobiAnne burst out, a bitterness creeping into her voice. "Cordelia Van Alen made us. That meddlesome old witch."
"Jordan is not of this family," Bliss's father added.
"What are you talking about?" she cried. It was getting to be too much. All these secrets and lies, she was sick of it. She was sick of being kept in the dark about everything. "I know all about Allegra!" she declared suddenly, with a look of defiance.