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Kingsley seemed taken aback. “Are you hurt? Truly?”
Mimi saw her opportunity and reached
for the chalice, taking it in her hand and raising it in triumph. The moment she touched it, the chapel disappeared around them. The protective spell had dissipated.
They were standing outside the Rosslyn Chapel now, in the early evening.
“You can’t hurt me,” Mimi said, as she raised her weapon, her eyes blazing. “You were always a weakling. See how easy it was to take this from you? Lucifer would laugh to see you.” Make him believe it, make him hate you. She advanced toward him and lunged for his heart.
But rather than parry, Kingsley grabbed her blade and wrapped his hand around the steel, letting it cut into his palm. With all his strength, he pulled Mimi’s sword away from her so it fell to the ground, and she was forced to drop her hold on the chalice as well. He picked up the grail with his blood-soaked hand, and with the other he raised his sword toward her brow.
“Now tell me the truth,” he said. “Why are you doing this?”
She cringed from him. “I told you why.”
“I know you still love me.” He smiled. “I can see it in your face.”
Mimi sneered. “We are with Lucifer now; we have always been false.”
“I don’t believe it for one second,” Kingsley whispered, looking into her eyes tenderly.
“Then you are a fool,” she said. She wanted to throw herself upon him, to bring her face to his, to kiss his lips and hold him in her arms, to brush his dark hair out of his eyes.
But instead she disappeared into smoke and air.
Her work was done. The grail was safe in the hands of the Venator she trusted most. She only hoped Jack had been as unsuccessful.
EIGHTEEN
Bliss
er stepmother had named it Penthouse du Rêves. A palace of dreams and an interior decorator’s nightmare. Just as Bliss had guessed, the house was still running, and although she didn’t recognize any of the staff, they all seemed to know her.
“Welcome back, Miss Llewellyn,” the housekeeper said. “Shall we make up some rooms for you and your guest?” she asked, as if Bliss had been away for merely a few weeks and not a few years. She would have received the same welcome, Bliss thought, no matter how long it had been. Forsyth’s trust funds would have seen to it—that there was a haven for Lucifer’s daughter. Once in a while, her terrible heritage did have its privileges, and Bliss was not shy about using them.
She asked the butler if he could arrange for a passport for Lawson, and tickets to London for the both of them. “Through whatever means necessary,” she said, and hoped that this new butler would be as effective as the previous one had been.
The butler gave a nod. “Whatever you request, Miss Llewellyn.”
Lawson’s mouth had fallen open a bit, though Bliss wasn’t sure if it was from the horror of the rococo decor of the apartment or her ease at ordering servants around.
“You’re going to catch flies in there,” she teased, and Lawson snapped his mouth shut.
“This was how you lived?” he asked, after the servants had gone.
“Oh, it was much worse than this,” she said. “Much, much worse. We used to have a chauffeur who drove me half a block down the road to school. In a Rolls-Royce.” Lawson was looking at her as if she were a stranger, and she didn’t like it. “Yeah, I know, gross. If BobiAnne were here, she’d probably make the driver take me around in a Prius, now that eco-friendly is the new smug.”
Lawson looked around and grinned, pointing to a life-size sculpture of a golden-haired princess with heaving bosoms.
Bliss laughed. “Hey, I didn’t decorate this place. My stepmother had ambitions for Versailles. The room we’re putting you in isn’t that bad. We should really get some sleep—we have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“I could probably use it,” Lawson admitted, and followed her up the stairs.
The guest room was one of the more tastefully appointed, at least in a relative sense. It had a hunting theme—the walls were dark green, and the curtains, lamp shade, and bedspread were all plaid damask, in shades of navy, maroon, and beige. Bliss thought it wouldn’t have been so bad were it not for the deer heads dotting the walls. Trust BobiAnne to always find the detail that went too far.
“Sorry about the taxidermy,” Bliss said.
“Makes me feel right at home,” Lawson deadpanned.
