Lost in Time (Blue Bloods 6)

He had tried to hide it with his brave words, but Schuyler knew deep down he was marching to his end. That last night was the final night they would ever have together.

Jack was going home to die.

For a moment, Schuyler wanted to scream, rend her clothing, and tear her hair in grief. But after a few shuddering sobs, she controlled herself. She wiped her tears and held herself together. She would not let it happen. She could not accept it. She would not accept it. Schuyler felt a surge of excitement fill her veins. She couldn’t let him do this to himself.

Oliver had promised he would do his best to distract Mimi, and she was thankful for his efforts in securing her happiness. But this was something she had to do for herself and for her love. She had to save Jack. She had to save him from himself. His flight was leaving in a few minutes, and without thinking, she ran all the way to the airport. She would stop him somehow. He was still alive, and she planned to keep it that way.

Jack was standing on the tarmac, waiting to climb the stairs to the private jet that would take him first to Rome, then on to New York. Two black-clad Venators were waiting for him at the plane and looked at Schuyler curiously, but Jack did not look surprised to see her suddenly appear at his side.

“Schuyler…” He smiled. He did not ask what she was doing there. He already knew, but this time his smile was sad.

“Don’t go,” she said. I cannot let you face your fate alone.

We are bonded now. We will face it together. Your destiny is mine as well. We shall live or die together. There is no other way , she sent, letting him hear the words in his head.

Jack began to shake his head, and Schuyler said fiercely,

“Listen. We will find a way out of the blood trial. Come to Alexandria with me. If we are unsuccessful and you have to return to New York, then I will share your fate. If you are destroyed, then so am I, and my mother’s legacy is meaningless. I will not leave you. Do not fear the future; we will face it together.”

She could see him weighing her words, and she held her breath.

Her fate—and perhaps the fate of all vampires—was in his hands. She had made her case, she had fought for him, and it was his turn now to fight for her.

Jack Force had a dark destiny before him, but Schuyler Van Alen hoped—she prayed—she believed —that together they could change it.

ONE

Paradiso

TheyleftAlexandriajustasthemassesarrivedtoescapethe heat of Cairo. “We always seem to be going in the wrong direction,” Schuyler said, watching the traffic crawl, inch by inch, on the opposing freeway. It was the middle of July, and the sun was high in the sky. The air-conditioning in their rented sedan barely worked, and she had to place her palms right in front of the passenger-side vents just to cool down.

“Maybe it’s the opposite. maybe we’re actually going in the right direction this time.” Jack smiled and put a little more gas on the pedal. In comparison to the hordes descending upon the beach city, the traffic leading into the capital was light, and for Egypt, they were practically cruising, if that was the correct way to describe the chaotic scene on the highway.

The Alexandria desert road was notorious for fearsome bus crashes and fatal accidents, and it was easy to see why: cars sped wildly, bobbing in and out of lanes at whim, while massive trucks looked as if they would pitch and roll every time they swerved to attain the slightest advantage. Once in a while someone would hit a random speed bump—either a huge unmarked crater or debris that had never been cleared—and traffic would screech to a halt without warning, causing a massive pileup. Schuyler was thankful Jack was a good driver; he seemed to know instinctively when to speed up or slow down, and they weaved through the careening vehicles without a scratch or near miss.

At least they weren’t driving at night, when cars didn’t even have their headlights on, since Egyptian drivers believed headlights burned through gas too quickly, and so made do without them. It was fine for vampires, of course, but Schuyler always worried for the poor humans who were barreling through in the dark—driving blind, like bats fluttering in a cave.

For seven months, she and Jack had lived in Alexandria, wandering through the picturesque cafés and airy museums.

The city had been designed to rival Rome and Athens at their height. Cleopatra had made it the seat of her throne, and while there were a few traces of the ancient outpost still visible—a scattering of sphinxes, statues, and obelisks—there was actually very little that remained of the ancient world in the bustling metropolis.

When they’d first arrived, Schuyler had been filled with hope, and heartened by Jack’s faith and presence, she was certain they would soon find what they sought. Florence had been a decoy, and Alexandria was the only other possibility regarding the true location of the Gate of Promise according to her grandfather’s files, which had documented Catherine of Siena’s travels from Rome to the Red Sea. Schuyler’s mother had trusted her with the family legacy: to find and protect the remaining Gates of Hell, which kept the world safe from the demons of the underworld.

They had checked in to the Cecil Hotel, a favorite of Somerset maugham’s and one that had been popular during the British Colonial era. Schuyler had been charmed by the 1930s-style caged elevator and its splendid marble lobby, which oozed old Hollywood grandeur. She could imagine mar-lene Dietrich arriving with a dozen trunks, a footman to carry her feather-trimmed hats alone.

Schuyler began her search at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, an attempt to recreate the great library that had been lost over two thousand years ago (or so the Red Bloods thought, as the library still existed in the New York Coven’s Repository of History). Like the original institution, the grounds of the Bibliotheca sprawled to include acres of gardens, as well as a planet-arium and a conference center. A wealthy and secretive local matron had been instrumental in its foundation, and Schuyler had been certain she had found Catherine at last. But when they visited the grand patroness in her elegant salon overlooking the Eastern Harbor, it was obvious from the beginning that she was human, and no Enmortal, as she was sick and dying, lying in a bed, attached to a series of tubes.

As she and Jack had walked out of the elderly woman’s room, Schuyler felt the first flicker of anxiety that she was letting down not only her beloved grandfather and her enigmatic mother, but also the boy she so dearly loved. So far, finding the gatekeeper was turning out to be a difficult—if not impossible—task. Jack did not say anything that day, nor had he ever voiced any regret at his decision. Back in Florence, at the airport, he had escaped from the Venators and accepted her challenge, agreeing to her plan. She did not want to fail him.

She’d promised she would find a way out of the blood trial, a way for them to be together, and she would. The gatekeeper, Catherine of Siena, would help them, if only Schuyler could find her.

Their life in Egypt had settled into a comfortable routine.

Tired of hotel living, they’d rented a small house near the beach and concentrated on blending in as best they could.

most of their neighbors left the young good-looking foreigners alone. Perhaps they sensed the vampire strength behind their friendly smiles.

In the mornings, Schuyler would comb the library, reading books on the Roman era, when Catherine was first tasked with the charge of keeper, and matching it to the files from Lawrence’s journal. Jack took on the footwork, using his Venator training to zero in on any clues as to her whereabouts, walking the city, talking to the locals. Enmortals were charis-matic and unforgettable beings—Lawrence Van Alen had been very popular during his exile in Venice, and Schuyler was betting that Catherine, or whatever she called herself these days, was the same: a magnetic personality whom no one could easily forget. In the late afternoons, Jack would stop by the library, and they would head to a café for lunch, sharing plates of mulukhiya stew over rice or spicy khoshary, and then return to their duties. They lived like locals, having dinner at mid-night, sipping fragrant anise tea until the wee hours of the morning.