Schuyler consoled herself that at least she wouldn’t have to damage the paintings, and with them her future relationship with Finn. She would have to come up with another plan. Nothing left to do but go back to the hotel and sleep.
Oliver arrived at the airport just in time, wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before and looking pleasingly rumpled. “Oliver Hazard-Perry, I never thought I would see you doing the walk of shame,” Schuyler teased. “Good night, then?”
“The best. Who knew I could enjoy a kegger?”
“I don’t think it was the party that was so much fun.”
“Perhaps not,” he allowed.
“How did you leave things?”
He sighed. “Well, that’s complicated. We’ll be in touch, of course, but I can’t imagine anything will come of it until after…everything.”
The sojourn back to the States had been a monumental one for Schuyler personally, but the problem at hand still remained. The Venators were meeting tonight, and while she had faith in Kingsley’s leadership, Schuyler knew she was the one destined to bring the vampires salvation. But all she felt was useless.
Remember who your father was, her mother had told her. Remember him when time stands still, when you stand at the crossroads, when the path opens before you.
What did it mean?
The flight to London was smooth and uneventful, made easier by the comforts of first class. They disembarked to find a driver holding a sign with Schuyler’s name on it. Kingsley had arranged for a limo to pick them up at Heathrow, Oliver explained. “How thoughtful,” Schuyler said. “And how unlike him.”
“People can change,” Oliver said pointedly.
“Noted,” she said.
They sank into the plush leather seats while the driver put their luggage in the trunk. With a low purr, the car exited the airport. Schuyler looked out the window as they moved onto the highway. It was always so hard getting used to the whole driving-on-the-other-side-of-the-road thing—she was glad she never had to do the driving herself.
“I don’t know my way around London all that well,” Oliver said, “but I feel like we’re going in the wrong direction. Kingsley said the safe house was in Islington, which is that way.”
Schuyler tapped on the glass window that separated them from the driver. “Excuse me? Are we going the
right way? I don’t know if Kingsley gave you the proper address.…”
The driver didn’t appear to hear her, and he didn’t lower the glass.
“What’s going on here?” Oliver asked.
Schuyler started banging on the window. “Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?”
Still nothing.
“I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about this,” Oliver said.
“Is there any chance Kingsley didn’t send this car?”
“Come to think of it, he did mention he was sending a Venator team. Not just a driver. Damn it! What should we do? Should we try to jump out?” Oliver tested the door. “Locked.”
“We can force it,” Schuyler said. “I could take the door right off the hinges if I wanted to.”
“While the car is moving? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Just then, the car stopped. They’d pulled off the highway and were in a clearing. Schuyler heard a click and tested the door. Unlocked.
“As soon as I open it, we run,” she said.
But no sooner had she said the words than someone else opened the door for her.
Schuyler froze. The feeling she’d had all along—she’d been right after all—someone had been watching and waiting…and now the watching and the waiting had ended, and whoever it was had come for her. She knew, she felt it, and she hadn’t done anything, hadn’t told anybody—and now they were both in danger. She wanted to kick herself for being so stupid. She would never see Jack again, never get to know her newfound family. She’d failed in her task, and this was her punishment.