CIA had been founded by a Venator; the original Blue Bloods training center was located in the same area) jostled at tables next to the odd NYU students who'd wandered in and had no idea they were surrounded by the vampire secret police. There was a pool table and dartboard, and a chalkboard behind the bar for recording rounds.
Mimi found Sam sitting in the back booth surrounded by empties, and took a seat across from him. "It's my shout," Ted announced, bringing back three pints of dark bitter ale topped with a gold lager. Black and Tans they called them. Mimi didn't usually like the taste of beer--she preferred martinis or wine--but she also did not feel like making a fuss. She took a sip. Not too bad, really. Not as tangy as blood--she remembered the taste of Kingsley's blood: sweet and sharp. Her throat constricted and her eyes watered, and for a moment she felt as if she would lose it. But she held herself together.
"First off, take it easy on that Conduit. Hazard-Perry means well," Sam said. "It was as good a guess as any. The kid hasn't slept in days. He works harder than anybody."
"Maybe, but that pompous windbag Wendell Randolph wants my seat for 'abuse of the police force.' He said he's going to call a White Vote at the next meeting."
"He won't. He's all bluster," Ted said with a dismissive wave. "You're all they've got and they know it."
"Maybe. Look guys, this is hard for me to say." Mimi took a deep breath. "I know we've all worked really hard this last week, and I appreciate all your efforts, but I have no choice: if we don't find her by tomorrow night, I'm taking the wards off the Coven. I don't want to, but it's my only option. I can't have her burn, not online, not anywhere. At least with the wards down we'll know exactly where she is and we'll be able to get her out."
The Venators took the news with sober faces. "That's a huge risk. You know we'd be sitting ducks if the Silver Bloods pulled a stunt at the same time," Ted warned.
"I know the risks." Mimi put her hands in the air. "But do I have a choice?"
"Charles would never allow it," Sam pointed out. "Not even during the slayings," he said, meaning the two years prior when several teenage Blue
Bloods were drained.
"Charles let six immortals die," Mimi replied. "And Lawrence lost almost the entire Conclave in Rio. No. I've made up my mind. If we don't find her before midnight, I'm doing it."
Sam pushed back on his chair and put his hands behind his head. Every year of his Enmortal life showed in the creases on his face. "But don't you have got get the full Conclave approval for that sort of thing?"
"Not in a time of war. Not with the Regis Doctrine," said Mimi, a bit smugly. How's that for looking up the Code, she thought. "And gentlemen, if it wasn't clear before, let me make it so. This is a war we're fighting. I'm not going to let security get mired up in useless bureaucratic motions."
Ted exchanged a look with his brother, and Sam shrugged. "All right then, like you said, it's your call, ma'am. But give us until the last minute before you pull the trigger. We've got someone working on a counter to that masking spell. We'll find her. The last time the Regis took the wards off, you remember what happened."
Mimi actually didn't, but she wasn't about to admit that to them, especially after she had already announced her decision. Plus, where did he get off calling her ma'am? "All right. But not one minute more."
"We wanted to show you something too," Sam said. "We got Renfield's notes back. What is wrong with that guy, by the way?"
"He's watched too many movies made by the Conspiracy." Mimi smirked. "Next thing you know he's going to start smelling like roses."
Sam snorted. "He came up with a doozy. Remember those three things we saw on the video?" He began to draw on a cocktail napkin. "Copulating animals. Ram's head. Snake." He tapped the drawing with his pen.
"Uh-huh."
"The scribes found something in the archives--take a look." Sam slid a book across the table. It was an old Repository tome, probably from the
1500s, Mimi guessed, due to the Vitruvian silhouette on the spine. She could smell the dust on it.
Ted opened the book and pointed to an illustration on the left-hand page. It was a symbol divided into three parts. The first showed two interlocking circles, and the second, an animal on four legs. The third symbol was a sword piercing a star.
"Lucifer's sigil," Mimi sighed, pushing the book away. "So this is the Silver Bloods' work after all. Of course."
"Not exactly," Sam said. "It's actually the second symbol that worries us."
"What is it?" Mimi squinted at the image. It looked like a furry little creature of some kind. . . . Like a . . . "It's a lamb, isn't it?"
"Yes."
They didn't have to say anything more. Mimi knew her history as well as they. So that's what the three images on the video meant. They corresponded to the symbols on the triglyph: the mating animals stood for union, the ram's head for the sheep, and the snake was yet another symbol for Lucifer. The lamb symbolized humanity. The Red Bloods. A human flock. With Lucifer at its lead. The symbol for union joining the two, lashing them together.
The Silver Bloods were in cahoots with . . . humans? She felt sick. It didn't make sense. Nothing did.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Vanity of Mrs. Armstrong Flood
On Sunday afternoon, Mimi met Oliver at Duchesne. "Are you absolutely certain this is the place this time?" she asked, as they ran up the darkened back stairway.
They had so little time left before the crescent moon rose. This was a farce; she did not even know why she had allowed herself to be talked into this.
But if there was a chance to save Victoria without taking down the wards . . . they had to hurry.
When they had arrived at the school, Mimi quickly got them in without setting off any alarms. As Regent, she had the keys and codes to all the Blue
Blood strongholds. The dark, empty building had struck her as surprisingly melancholy. She had never been in the school during the off-hours and was surprised to find how quiet and hollow it seemed without its students. She had always thought of Duchesne as a lively place, and now understood that its heart lay in its student body. Without them, the school was just an empty vessel, a stage set.
"I can't have another Carlyle on my hands. Wendell Randolph wants my head on a platter for disrupting his hotel. We had to do a huge memory wipe on all those Red Bloods. Messy. I think the actor wants to sue. He got a scratch on his forehead. His face is insured, you know."
"Actors," Oliver said, as if it were a curse word. "Just get one of the Conspiracy members to give him a part in their new film. I figured we should try everything before you had to take the wards down." He looked out the window at the sky, where the moon was still hidden. "We've got, what . . . fifteen minutes?" he asked, huffing as he led the way.
"Just about." They were cutting it close, but Mimi had promised the Lennox boys they would have every minute until the crescent moon rose, and they had asked her to meet Oliver and give them this one last chance.
It would take an instant to call off the wards. All she had to do was say the words and they would see Victoria immediately. She had made her decision, but now that the time to act was coming upon her, she was starting to have doubts. Should she risk the safety of the entire Coven for the life of one vampire? Charles had never done so, and neither had Lawrence when he was Regis. Why on earth was she Regent? She wasn't ready to make these kinds of decisions! She might be centuries old in blood, but in this cycle she was only seventeen.
Oliver caught his breath for a moment. "Anyway, in answer to your question, we're here because it's one of the places Victoria could be. Sam and
Ted are already at the other."
"Other?"
He nodded. "I'll explain in a bit. Remember the Carlyle pattern?"
"Are we back to wallpaper again?" Mimi snapped.
"Hear me out. The pattern on the wallpaper was produced by William Morris in 1880. Its reprint was exclusive to the Carlyle Hotel. No one else in the world is supposed to have that wallpaper. But it kept bothering me--why did that pattern look so familiar? I thought I'd seen it before, and not just at the
Carlyle."
"Okay."
"Then I did some digging up on the history of the hotel. Did you know it was owned by the Floods? The same family who gave their mansion to the
Duchesne School. Mrs. Flood--Rose--was a leading tastemaker back in the day. It wasn't unreasonable to assume she had picked out that wallpaper personally. It took a lot of trouble to reproduce it--they practically had to buy the factory that did it. And so it got me thinking--if she loved it so much--maybe