Gates of Paradise (Blue Bloods 7)

“I know that the break took place during the Roman Empire, during Caligula’s reign, so you’ll have to go to Rome and try to find the ancient path, the one that led to the creation of the first Gate of Hell. That’s the best I can do, for now.”

“Did we cause this?” Malcolm asked. “When we went back there? Is this all our fault?”

“No, dear boy,” Arthur said. “Do not blame yourself. This is the work of the Fallen. Bliss is part of this. I’m sure she is. She should be here with you.”

Lawson did not disagree.

“If she’s really one of us now, then we should be her priority,” said Ahramin. “Why is she running to the vampires? She’s not one of them anymore.”

Much as Lawson hated to admit it, Ahramin had a point. Bliss was part of the pack, and the pack needed her. He needed her. He had told her as much before he left, but maybe he should try again.

Bliss picked up right away when he called her cell phone. “You’re not on the plane yet?” He didn’t apologize for leaving, but then Bliss didn’t expect him to. They had let each other down.

“I’m at the airport,” she said. “What’s up? Did you find Arthur? Is he okay?”

“We did and he is,” he said, and briefly explained what they’d learned. His voice dropped so that no one else could hear him. “Listen, I know you’re worried about your friends, and I will keep my promise to you. But the thing is, Arthur thinks what’s happened to the passages affects your friends as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Then his voice dropped even lower still. “I’m sorry I left the way I did. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered.

“So let’s be sorry together.”

Bliss smiled into the phone. “Okay, I was just about to get on a plane to London, but I can go back to Ohio instead.”

“No, don’t,” Lawson said. “Meet us in Rome.”

TWENTY-TWO

Mimi

imi completed the long journey back to the underworld well before Jack. She wasn’t sure how to read his delay—had he struggled to fail at his quest, or had failure simply been impossible? The difficulty with being Abbadon and Azrael was that it was easier to do things well than to do them poorly. It was all she could do to force Kingsley to succeed in winning the cup, although certainly he’d always been good at stealing things from her. Like her clothes, or her heart.

She tried to forget the look he’d given her—right before she’d disappeared—a combination of shock and displeasure. He had been confident she would fall into his arms—downright smug, even. And while Kingsley was right to believe in her love, she couldn’t help feeling a little irritated, especially now that she knew how he had been spending his time while she was working so diligently on breaking her bond so they could be together.

The bastard had expected her to kiss him.

And why hadn’t she?

Because then all would be lost. Lucifer would know immediately, and everyone would be vulnerable. Not just her and Jack, but Kingsley and Schuyler as well. If their betrayal was discovered, it would bring death to the two of them as well as to the ones they loved the most.

Where are you? she sent to Jack. But there was no reply.

She waited anxiously for his return, pacing the rooms of their apartments. The Dark Prince had been made aware of her failure, but so far had not requested her to come before him to answer for the fiasco at Rosslyn. Days felt like weeks, which felt like months, which felt like years, while she flinched at every knock on the door, fearful that someone had realized she’d thrown the fight with Kingsley. That she was a traitor. This couldn’t go on forever; it would make her insane.

She tried to distract herself, remembering her last time in the underworld, when she’d waited anxiously in her room; when she’d gone back for Kingsley. She’d indulged herself then, with massages and facials and hair treatments, and glorious meals with fancy wine, but those didn’t help now. She was too fidgety to sit still, and too nervous to eat. Late nights at the clubs helped release some of the tension, but she couldn’t dance forever.

Finally, late one night, Jack returned, weary from his trip. She could tell from the look on his face that he’d failed, which is to say that he’d succeeded in doing Lucifer’s bidding. He’d retrieved a cup. “What happened?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

“We were so close,” he said. “I found the cup, and I’d set up this fantastic battle with the monks for it. They’d just about succeeded when you called me.”

So it was her fault. She’d insisted that Jack help her get rid of Danel, and in doing so she’d sabotaged his efforts. “I’m sorry,” she said, one of the rare occasions she was willing to admit it.

Jack shook his head. “That wa

sn’t the problem. It was a little trickier to make sure the monks won with Danel there, but I made it happen. They destroyed their precious chalice rather than letting us have it. No, the problem is that Danel is a little too good at his job. He figured out that the monks didn’t seem sufficiently devastated by the loss of their treasure.”