The Van Alen Legacy (14 page)

“Memorial?
There
was a memorial?
For Dylan?
When?”
Bliss asked, trying not to sound like
she was about to freak out.

Allison looked uncomfortable.
“Almost a year ago now.
Yeah, I know.
Weird, right?
I mean, the guy
disappeared, right? Supposedly his parents moved to Grosse Point or something, but then it turned
out he was staying at Transitions but he had some sort of forty-eight-hour leave and he died from
an overdose.”

Another cover-up, Bliss
thought. The Blue Bloods covered their tracks well. Easy enough to explain Dylan’s death as
another rich kid drug overdose.
Especially since he was in rehab.
An entirely
plausible story, except that it wasn’t at all true.

Allison shifted uncomfortably.
“I didn’t even know him that well, but you guys were friends, weren’t you?”

“We were,” Bliss said. “Was it
. . . How did . . . Was anyone else there?” The Duchesne girl looked embarrassed.

“No. Not really. There weren’t
that many people. I think I was the only one from Duchesne. There were some people from the rehab
center, but then they were the ones who organized it. I just happened to find out about it from
Wes McCall. He’d been staying at Transitions too. I just thought . . . well, Dylan and I used to
have English together and he was . . . a nice guy.
A character.
But nice, you
know?”

“Yeah,” Bliss said. She found
that her eyes were suddenly full of tears.

“Oh god, you’re crying. I’m so
sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Allison said. “Here.” She handed Bliss a scented handkerchief
from her handbag.

“I’m okay . . . it’s just . .
. it was complicated,” Bliss stammered, gladly taking the hanky and wiping her eyes.

“Life sure is.” Allison
nodded. “But it’s good to see you . . . out. I mean, it must be so hard. I’m saying all the wrong
things, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.
It’s
nice to be able to talk to somebody.” Bliss smiled.

“Well. You can always talk to
me.
You coming
back to school in September?”

Bliss nodded.
“Yeah.
It’s weird to be held back. I don’t really know anyone anymore.” The Visitor
had agreed that Bliss should go back to school. It would be odd if the senator’s daughter
suddenly became a high school dropout.

“Well, you know me, and I’m in
your class,” Allison said. “It won’t be so bad,” she said, giving Bliss a hug.

“That’s good to hear. Thanks,
Ally. See
ya
.” Bliss smiled.

“See
ya
.”

Bliss walked back to her car,
wanting nothing more than to be alone as she absorbed this news. There had been a memorial for
Dylan and no one had come. To the Red Bloods he was just some troublemaker; to the vampires,
collateral damage. No one cared or remembered him.

She hadn’t even been there to
pay her respects. To see him for one last time before they put him in the ground. He was gone
forever, and she would never see him again.

The directions on the map led
them to the
Tijuca
Forest, located
smackdab
in the heart of the city,
not too far from the smart beach districts along the coast. Rio was a wonder, Mimi thought. Where
else in the world could you go so quickly from the glass towers of a modern financial district to
a lush tropical rain forest?

In the cab up to
Barra
da
Tijuca
, Kingsley studied the carefully drawn map
again. “It looks like there’s some sort of cabin in the woods next to a waterfall. That must be
where they’ve brought her.”

Do you think she’s still
alive?” Mimi asked.

Kingsley didn’t answer at
first. He just folded the note back into his pocket. ‘They kept her alive for over a year, that
much we know. If they were going to kill her, why would they wait so long?”

“I have a bad feeling about
this,” Mimi said. “Like
We’ve
come too late.” The note had been dated four days ago.
The little girl’s words echoed in her mind.
Bad people.
They took her
away.

The cab driver took them to
the parking lot by the entrance near the
Cascatinha
de
Taunay
waterfalls, which was as far as he could take them. The parking lot was a small plateau ringed by
the tallest trees Mimi had ever seen. They had a panoramic grandeur, the kind of natural beauty
you only saw in movies, so tall and green and wide they looked unreal. She stepped out of the cab
and took a deep breath of the clear mountain air. It almost had a
taste’like
dew and
sunshine mixed with an earthy green smell. Mimi looked around, there were several decent-looking
trails, but they disappeared sharply up the mountain, twisting away to what looked like some
sharp rocks. It looked like it would be a pretty arduous trek, no matter what, and she cursed her
vanity once more. If only she had worn the regulation shoes. She was never going to make it up
that trail in her high-heeled boots.

There were several
battered-looking Jeeps whose drivers were trying to entice the small groups of day-trippers and
hikers to hire them for the day. But Kingsley had read Mimi’s mind and nixed the idea before she
could even suggest it. “No, let’s not put anyone else at risk,” he said. “Silver Bloods think of
humans as sport. A guide would only make our mission more vulnerable.”

Fine, she thought. It’s been
forty-eight hours since we left the hotel. Forgive me if I want to ride instead of hike. Even
vampires got exhausted if you pushed them too hard. Meanwhile, the Lennox brothers had found a
naturalist guide.

“Fastest way to the
hidden falls?”
The guide was so deeply sunburned his skin was mahogany. He had a British
accent, and explained that he was part of the Natural Geographic Society.

“Best way is probably up the
Pico trail; there’s an unmarked path through the woods that you can follow through the jungle.
But it’s a pretty strenuous climb. Sure you don’t want to hire one of the Jeeps? The
Taunay
falls are right here. They’re just as spectacular. . . . No? All right, then,
good luck. Park closes at sunset, so make sure you’re back here by then.”

Mimi looked down at her feet.
She knew what she had to do. She sat on a fallen log, took off her boots, and chopped off the
spike heels with her blade, wincing a bit at the destruction. Then she put them back on.
Much better.
She took a big gulp of water from her plastic bottle, wishing not for
the first time that she was on that beach in Capri.

“Catch?” Kingsley said,
throwing her something.

It was a small bottle of
coconut water. “What’s this for?” she asked, pressing down on the tab. She took a sip.
Surprisingly refreshing.

“Found it at the gift shop,”
he said. “I know it’s not a limoncello, but I hear it’s really good for you.”

Why did he always seem to know
what she was thinking? She was annoyed and grateful at the same time, a strange combination of
feelings. They set a quick pace, soon leaving most of the other hikers on the main trail behind,
and reached the mountaintop in short order. The air was so
quiet,
it was like
entering a sort of natural church. From the top they could see all the way across the city, down
to the coastline. It was a magnificent and awe-inspiring view.

“
this
must be
that path the guide was talking about,” Kingsley said, leading them through the shrouded greenery
to the other side of the hill. “I think I can hear the water.”

Mimi stopped and listened. She
heard it too: a rushing, whooshing sound, just slightly audible and probably miles and miles
away. Walking downhill was easier; they were almost gliding, one of the advantages of the vampire
agility. They hiked in silence into the dark, desolate heart of the jungle, trusting the map to
lead them. The heat was oppressive and overwhelming, the air so humid it was almost like
breathing underwater.

The dense vegetation was
primordial, the tree roots looking like the claws of an immobilized beast, the sky completely
covered by a canopy of green, and everywhere, the rustling sound of animals in flight. Mimi
glimpsed one or two of the wildly colored macaws, but was disappointed she didn’t see any
monkeys.

Finally they came to a
clearing that opened up to the hidden waterfalls, just as the map directed. A torrent of water
ran down through rocks, an elemental, awe-inspiring majesty rushing down to a swirling river that
ribboned
through the jungle.

“According to the map we’ll
have to cross the river to get to the bank on the other side,” Kingsley said, untying his laces
and removing his shoes. The
Lennoxes
were already in the water. Their nylon pants
were unzipped at the knee, and they carried their backpacks over their heads. Kingsley did the
same, except he also removed his T-shirt, showing off his broad chest, tanned and smooth. When
had Kingsley had time to work on his tan? Mimi wondered.

Well, at least she wouldn’t
have to wear her uncomfortable shoes anymore. Even with the heel surgery, they didn’t provide
adequate support. She kicked them off and stripped down to her camisole and underwear, and
slipped into the water, holding her bag over her head. The water must have come from a mountain
spring, because it was cold, almost freezing, but it felt wonderful after almost two days of
walking around a hot city without a proper shower. The river current was strong and threatened to
wash Mimi away. She used every inch of her muscles to make it to the other side. When she reached
the shallow end, Kingsley held out his hand and pulled her up, but she lost her step and fell
into his arms, her body crushing momentarily against his.

Mimi blushed at the unexpected
intimacy, and to her surprise found Kingsley looking slightly embarrassed as well. For all his
talk and flirting, he handled himself like a true gentleman.

“Sorry about that,” he said,
straightening up.

“Nothing to worry
about.”
Mimi smiled a smile that said no one could resist her in a wet camisole, not even
the great Kingsley Martin. But her breezy facade was just that, a façade, because she felt a
spark pass between them when Kingsley touched her. Something that she didn’t want to acknowledge
right then, or ever, but she felt a connection to him . . . and not just that, a desire, quite
unlike her usual voracity for human familiars: those red-blooded toys that she disposed of at
will (she’d already left two of them back at the hotel).

No, this was something deeper,
stirring something inside her. . . .
A memory, perhaps?
Had they known each other in
a prior lifetime? And if so, what had happened between them?
Nothing?
Everything?
She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because the boys were
already scrambling up the edge of the bank.

She removed her clothes from
the waterproof pack and began to dress, averting her eyes from Kingsley, who was doing the
same.

“We shouldn’t be too far,”
Kingsley said, checking the map once they were ready.

They made their way through
the wilderness until they arrived at a cluster of trees and greenery that created a curtain
around a small, wooden dwelling. Not quite a shack but not quite a house either. There was a
strange symbol on the doorway, a five-pointed star.
The mark of Lucifer.
Mimi
shivered and noticed that the rest of the team looked tense as well. This would not be as easy as
fighting off a gang of drug dealers.

“This is it,” Kingsley said.
“Force and I will take the front; you two cover the back exit,” he ordered.

Mimi followed Kingsley into
position as they crept up toward the front door.

“On the count of
three.”
Kingsley nodded. He had brandished his sword. Its silver blade glinted in the
sun.

Mimi removed hers from the
wire in her bra, the needle unfolding to the full length of her weapon. A sudden image came up:
hunting demons through a tunnel of caves, the shrieking and then the silence.
A
memory?
Mimi blinked.
Or a projection?
Wasn’t that Jack’s voice? She couldn’t
be sure. The connection between them was not what it used to be. Focus. Kingsley was counting
down.

“One, two . . .” He nodded to
Mimi and she kicked at the door, which opened with a bang.

Jack led Schuyler through the
residential streets of the isleSaint-Louis and over the bridge connecting to “Isle de la Cite”,
where she caught a glimpse of Notre Dame as they flew past the square and into the nearest Metro
station.

“Where are we going?” she
panted as they jumped the locked turnstiles. The trains had stopped running an hour
ago.

“Somewhere we’ll be safe,” he
said as they ran to the very end of the empty platform: Schuyler had become familiar with the
aesthetics of the Metro, but she was still struck by how beautiful even something like the subway
could be in Paris. The Cite tunnel was lit by Art
Deco’style
globe lights that
curved over the tracks with a charming flair.