"Where are we going?"
"To Corcovado."
"Now? Why?"
Lawrence gripped the wheel tightly. "The attack on the Conclave can only mean one thing: the Silver Bloods are planning to free Leviathan."
They parked at the base of the entrance to the Statue of the Redeemer and ran out of the car. The parking lot was empty and quiet, and they could see the statue lit up by floodlights from below. "Disguise yourself," Lawrence ordered Schuyler. "And you, stay here," he told Oliver.
Oliver began to protest, but one look from Lawrence silenced him.
"I can't," Schuyler confessed to her grandfather. "I can't perform the mutatio."
Lawrence was already in the form of the young man with the hawkish nose and imperial attitude she had first seen at the Venice Biennale. "Of course you can," he said, scaling the fence easily.
"Grandfather, I can't. I can't turn into a fog or an animal," she said, following his lead.
"Who said you could?" he asked as they flew up the series of zigzagged stairwells to the statue. Their footsteps made hardly any noise on the concrete as they ran.
"What do you mean?"
"Most likely you are like me. I cannot turn into a cloud or a creature either. But I can shift my features, like so, and take on a different - but human - disguise. Try it."
Schuyler tried. She closed her eyes and concentrated on changing her features instead of shifting her entire form. Within seconds she found she had effectively morphed into one of the rich, pumped-up Argentine patronas who were on vacation in the country.
They reached the top of the mountain and stood underneath the statue. Nobody was there. It was quiet and peaceful.
Not for the first time that evening Schuyler wondered if her grandfather was losing it. Weren't they at the wrong place? Why had he brought them here? For what? "Maybe we're too late. Or they're not coming. We should really head to the Almeidas and see if ..."
"HUSH!" Lawrence commanded.
She shut up.
They walked the perimeter of the statue's base. Nothing. They were alone. Schuyler began to panic. Why were they here when their people were being killed somewhere else? They should go back; this was a big mistake.
She walked around the northeast side, convinced Lawrence had guessed incorrectly. There was nothing to ...
"Schuyler! WATCH OUT!" Oliver yelled. He had crept up the mountain behind them, unwilling to be left behind.
Schuyler looked up. There was a man in a white suit standing right in front of her, with a golden sword pointed directly at her chest.
She ducked and hit the ground hard, just as Lawrence removed his own blade from a hidden scabbard in his jacket.
The two swords clashed, one golden and fiery, the other icy and silver, the metals ringing against each other, echoing a sound that carried to the valley below.
"Blood traitor!" Mimi hissed.
"Put down your weapon, Azrael," Kingsley said quietly, still holding his own.
"You will not find me such easy prey as the others," she spat.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "I saw the black smoke from the street. My God, what has happened here?"
"You set this up. Don't play the innocent. We all know what you really are, Croatan." Mimi spat, shooting him a look of pure disgust.
"I realize it is hard for you to believe, but I have only just managed to escape from a rather nasty stasis spell myself," he said sourly. "I went to pick up Alfonso for our usual golf game, and the next thing I know I'm trapped in the back of my own car. As soon as I extricated myself I came down here to warn the others."
Mimi sniffed. A fine story Kingsley was telling her. Playing the victim once again. Yeah, right, he'd been detained. When it would have been so easy for him to leave the house from the back and come in the front door.