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“Hey!” she cried. “Careful! It’s Chanel!”
But his eyes were locked on the emerald stone sitting at the base of her throat.
“Is that what I think it is?” he said, horrified.
Lucifer’s Bane. The Star of Heaven. A treasure more precious than the stars themselves. Given by the Morningstar to his dearest love.
“I told you, I am with him now,” Mimi said. “He is my Dark Prince and master.”
FORTY-NINE
Schuyler
n the shore of the river of gold, the victor’s city shall once again rise on the threshold of the Gate of Promise.
He had taken her to the gate, hidden deep underneath the oldest standing church in the city: St. John’s Chapel in the Tower of London. Down beneath the church, in the tunnel that led to the Paths of the Dead, and toward the stone altar in the middle of the passage.
The Gate of Promise was a slab with a circle cut out of the center, and paths had been carved into the stone surrounding it. Almost like one of those puzzles with a miniature pinball in it.
Jack laid her on the stone, and it felt cold upon her back. For the first time, she was truly afraid. She understood now what the grooves in the slab were for, and how the gate would be opened. A pathway of blood. Once again, the gate’s destruction would demand a sacrifice.
“Jack,” she cried as he leaned down toward her neck, his fangs outstretched, until she could feel their sharpness on her skin and a trickle of blood. His body lay heavily on hers, and she could feel their hearts beating in tandem. She had told him the truth—that he could take what he wanted from her—and when he sank his fangs into her neck, she felt the same shudder of ecstasy and pleasure that it had always brought her. Her blood mingling with his. She felt his spirit overwhelm her, and she opened herself to him. He was drinking from her so deeply, and she surrendered—if this was death, then she would welcome it. She wanted to be one with him, for all eternity. She could feel a change within him, a quickening, an excitement. He was cold no longer, but warm, so warm again. But he had never taken her like this before, and she felt dizzy and weak. He was taking too much from her, too much blood—and it fell upon the stone, and the etchings on its slab came alive, awakened, opened.…
And still he drank as he held her down, keeping her hands at her sides. His grip was like ice, shackles around her wrist. Pleasure and pain, life and death, blood and sacrifice.
Finally he stopped and released his fangs, but now she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He whispered in her ear, and for a moment, Schuyler thought she was safe. That he had returned to her at last.
Jack shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said softly.
“Because I am,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Schuyler looked up to the sound and saw that Lucifer and his armies were massed behind Jack. The Fallen angels, their demons and trolls; Hellhounds and every creature of Hell were ready and waiting.
For the sacrifice.
For her blood to open the gate.
FIFTY
Gabrielle
could feel him. He was calling for me. His voice, so beautiful even then. He was saying:
Gabrielle. Do not fear. Do not fear me. I love you. I will not harm you.
Stop.
Stop and listen to me.
Gabrielle, my light. Stop for me.
But I knew if I stopped I was lost. I knew that he had planned this all along, from the very beginning.
As I ran away from him. I saw someone in the passages.
A girl.
She had beautiful red hair and green eyes.
