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“I appreciate that,” Schuyler said. “And I am sorry to impose on you like this—but I’m looking for my father. I’m Ben Chase’s daughter.”
Decca nodded. “My dear,” she said, pointing to the photographs on top of the piano, “that is Ben’s daughter. My only grandchild, Finn.”
Schuyler swallowed hard. “My father had another daughter?” Then that meant the girl in the photographs—the pretty smiling blonde with the clear blue eyes—was her sister. She couldn’t even imagine it.
“As far as we knew, Ben only had one child. I’m sorry to say this happens sometimes—strangers showing up with a claim to the family. My son did have his share of girlfriends, but he was not…shall we say…an irresponsible person.”
“My mother was Allegra Van Alen,” Schuyler said, her hands trembling as she reached into her purse to show Decca the wedding announcement from the Times, as well as her birth certificate. “Ben is my father. Her husband.”
Decca took the paper and frowned as she read it.
“See, I’m telling you the truth. I’m Ben’s daughter with Allegra.”
Decca shook her head. “But that can’t be.” She turned away for a moment, toward the view of paddleboarders gliding through the waves. “It doesn’t make sense.” She stared hard at Schuyler. “Cordelia told you Ben was your father?” she asked. “Cordelia Van Alen?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, my mother was in a coma, so I really couldn’t talk to her.”
“A coma,” Decca echoed.
“Yeah, she’s been hospitalized since I could remember.”
Decca pursed her lips, then seemed to come to an internal decision. “Please give me a moment,” she said, and left the room.
Schuyler had no idea what to do. Somehow, she had allowed herself to hope, to think of herself as something other than the Dimidium Cognatus. To imagine what it might have been like, if her dad had been around. She would have been a normal granddaughter to Decca, like that healthy-looking girl in all the photos. Finn.
Her sister.
What was she like? Schuyler wondered. Certainly she hadn’t had to deal with all the things Schuyler had faced growing up. Perhaps she was like Schuyler’s Duchesne classmates—wealthy and oblivious, obsessed with boys, clothes, and status.
But maybe not—maybe she was just living the life Schuyler had always wished she’d had. She certainly looked like she was loved. Happy. Peaceful.
Schuyler found herself almost as curious about Finn as she was about Ben. Strange, given that she’d had a whole lifetime to wonder about her father, and only a few minutes to think about the prospect of another hidden sibling.
There had to be a way to make things right with Decca, to make her understand that all she wanted was to meet her father, and now her sister. She wandered around until she found the bathroom, where she could splash some water on her face and reapply her lipstick, hoping to look more like a normal person than like someone who’d just received a shock. She ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to be more presentable, and went back into the living room and waited for her grandmother.
Finally, Decca returned. She was holding a letter. Schuyler recognized Cordelia Van Alen’s elegant handwriting on the envelope.
“When were you born?” she asked.
Schuyler told her.
“We received this a few months before your birth. It was from your grandmother. She told us Allegra had passed away.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Mimi
ith a wave of his hand, Lucifer dismissed Jack and Danel. “You may take your leave tonight,” he said. “Move quickly. We don’t want to give our enemies time to figure out what we’re doing.”
Now that Danel had been sent off with Jack, Mimi wondered if she was going to be stuck with Barachiel. It was a shame that her work on Danel had been for nothing. She could have distracted him with a few more of those kisses, as repulsive as she found them. But getting stuck aboveground with Barachiel was even worse. He was the angriest of all the remaining angels in Hell. She wasn’t sure he would ever accept that she and Jack had returned to the fold. Smart of him, she supposed.
“And now we turn to you,” the Dark Prince said. “My lovely Azrael, my angel of Death. I was very displeased by your failure to retrieve the grail, particularly as you and Abbadon are here to repay your debt to me.”
Mimi opened her mouth to protest, but Lucifer stopped her. “I am not interested in explanations. However, I am more concerned with your ability to prove your devotion to me, personally. Barachiel, please leave us.”
Barachiel looked as if he were about to protest, but then smirked at Mimi and left the room quickly. What was all this about? It was true Lucifer had hinted that he’d be happy to take Jack’s place as her partner, should she desire it; and she did not. She would much rather French-kiss Barachiel if it came down to it.
Once, a long time ago, she had loved the Dark Prince as her king, her idol. Maybe the old Mimi—who had reigned as the queen of New York and thought nothing of loving and leaving—the Azrael who had brought armies of Heaven to their knees—would have sought Lucifer’s love. Would have welcomed it—would have relished being his bride for the power and the glory.
