Lost in Time (Blue Bloods 6)

“I like it,” he said with a nod of approval. “By the way, the gallery told me you bought a painting.”

“I did.” She nodded, noticing that there was a group of people hanging around them, waiting for Ben to release her so they could pounce on him.

“Good, I need the money.”

“Liar.” She motioned to his adoring crowd. “I think I’m keeping you from your fans.”

“Ah, screw them.” Ben grinned. “It’s really good to see you, Legs,” he said warmly. “You want to come by the studio tomorrow? See a couple of other things? I promise I won’t try to sell them to you. Well, maybe not all.”

He wanted to see her again. Allegra’s heart skipped a beat. “Sure. Why not.” She shrugged nonchalantly, as if she would only stop by if she had nothing better to do.

His face lit up and he looked downright jolly. “Great! I’ll have the gallery give you the address.”

Finally, one of the hovering guests, an older gentleman with a trimmed beard, grew tired of waiting. “Stephen, excuse my interruption, but you must meet one of our best cli-ents—he’s thrilled with your work and is insistent on buying the entire collection.”

“One sec,” Ben told his dealer. “Sorry about this,” he said to Allegra. “Work calls. But stay. Enjoy the party. Some of the old crowd is here—a bunch of Peithologians, at least. You’ll find them at the bar doing shots. Old habits die hard.”

Then he was gone, taken away by his guests who had come to celebrate his success.

Ben was happy, friendly, fine. He was fine. Allegra resolved to feel happy for him, and glad that she had done the right thing in nipping their little affair—whatever it was—right in the bud. As she wandered in the direction of the bar to find her old friends, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. She was glad he’d liked her hair.

SEVEN

Mirror Images

Theirabductorsledthemawayfromthesouk,andSchuyler was shoved inside a vehicle that quickly sped away over bumpy roads. She thought she could feel Jack’s presence next to her, but she wasn’t sure. The hood they had thrown over her head was disorienting—not a normal dark cloth, but one that was made to subdue vampire sight; yet another weapon in the Venator arsenal. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally she was pulled out of the car and led indoors. Schuyler began to feel frightened, but she wanted to be strong.

Are you all right? asked Jack’s calm voice inside her head. If they harmed you I will tear them apart limb by limb.

So Jack was here. Relief flooded over her as she answered him. I am fine. Where are we? Who has taken us? Her mind raced—Venators from New York? Or had the Countess’s forces regrouped?

Before Jack could answer, the hood was removed from her face, but it was quickly replaced by a knife underneath her chin, and her assailant was pulling her hair so that her neck was vulnerable. Jack was sitting across from her, similarly subdued, his hands bound. His glass-green eyes glinted in anger, but he kept his fearsome power in check. He could have killed them with a word, but once again, he had been restrained by his weakness—his love for her. With Schuyler in danger, Jack was effectively powerless, and she hated that most about herself, that she could be used to control him.

The girl who held a knife at Schuyler’s throat was a beautiful Chinese Venator, dressed in a uniform denoting a high command, with three silver crosses embroidered on the collar.

“Hold. This is one of ours.” Her companion, a stocky boy with an open face, gestured toward Jack. “General Abbadon.

This is a surprise. Deming, did you not recognize him?”

“Rujiel,” Jack said, using the Venator’s angel name as he carefully and expertly removed the bindings around his hands as if they were made of string. “I did not realize the West Winds had cast their lot with traitors. I am disappointed to find you and your brother answering to Drusilla’s command.”

“We are no traitors,” Sam Lennox replied sharply. “The Countess might have turned the European Coven, but we do not do her bidding. And neither do we work for your sister anymore.”

“Good thing, too, or you’d be on the next plane back to the city,” Ted said with a growl.

“Well then, would you kindly ask your friend to let my wife go?” Jack asked. “If it is true that we are not in opposi-tion, there is no need for this animosity.”

The Chinese girl looked questioningly at Sam, who nodded, and she withdrew her knife.

Schuyler exhaled. “My mother’s sword. Where is it?”

Another girl—with the exact same face as the Venator who’d accosted her, tossed her the blade, and Schuyler caught it deftly and let it shrink down to size, then put it in her pocket. The Chinese Venators and the Lennox twins were an interesting match. mirror images of each other, they moved with complementary grace and dexterity, like a well-oiled machine fueled by centuries-old expertise. They looked battle-hardened and weary.

Jack took charge of the situation—naturally assuming that the mantle of leadership fell on his shoulders—and intro-duced everyone. “Schuyler, these are Sam and Ted Lennox, also known as the brothers Rujiel and Ruhuel, the Angels of the West Wind. Good soldiers. They were part of my legion a long time ago. I believe they were last on Kingsley martin’s team in Rio. And if I’m not mistaken, these charming ladies are Deming and Dehua Chen. I remember you two from the Four Hundred Ball.” He motioned to Schuyler. “This is Schuyler Van Alen. my bondmate.”

“The famous Jack Force,” Deming said, her voice dripping with contempt. While the Lennox twins might have deferred to Jack as their old commander, it was obvious she did not feel a similar respect. She was stronger and fiercer-looking than her twin, Dehua, who had a gentler demeanor. Schuyler had no doubt that Deming would have slashed her throat without hesitation. “I remember you as well,” Deming told Jack. “They said in New York that you had run away with Gabrielle’s Abomination and broken your bond with Azrael. I did not believe it was true.” She looked at him with such distaste that Schuyler fully understood for the first time the enormity of what Jack had given up for her—his lofty, honored place in the vampire community, his pride, and his word. In the Venator’s eyes he was nothing more than a lowly coward, someone who had broken a heavenly promise.

“Careful. I do not care for that word or that accusation. I will not have my wife insulted in such a manner.” Jack spoke softly, but his words carried the weight of a threat.