Misguided Angel (5 page)

"Two weeks ago, on one of the missions to Africa, they were al taken--slaughtered by raiders. I escaped by joining the Somali Marines for a short while. Don't worry--I'm a priest, not a pirate. The minute I was able to get back to Europe I resumed my search for you."

"You've found her," Jack said sharply. "So what now?"

"You're going to take us to the Gate of Promise, aren't you, Ghedi?" Schuyler asked, throwing her cup in the trash, marveling that Lawrence's instincts had been right as usual. "With Father Baldessarre gone . . ."

"I am the gatekeeper." Ghedi nodded. "And I wil take you to Florence. That is where you are headed, yes?"

SEVEN

The Trail

Schuyler estimated that at
Velox
speed, it would take them a little over a week to get to Florence, a hundred miles away. Since Ghedi could not keep up, he would accompany them only until Sarzana, then take the train to Florence to prepare for their arrival and meet them in town. Meanwhile, Jack decided they would stay off the main road, and use the mountain footpaths instead. It was safer that way; the hil s were rocky and remote at this time of year. Less chance of bumping into one of the Countess's spies or henchmen. Since it was il egal to camp in the mountains, they would have to be extra careful to avoid other hikers or park rangers.

Nothing more had been said about Ghedi's surprising announcement, as the logistics of their trip took al of their attention. But even as she went through the motions of packing, Schuyler continued to mul about the turn of events, how quickly it had al come together. As much as they had been searching for him, the gatekeeper had been searching for them. It seemed almost too easy.

Most unsettling of al , however, was something neither she nor Jack had yet to address. Ghedi professed to be the gatekeeper. There was just one hitch. Ghedi was human. There was no way he could be who he said he was. It was impossible, as only a Blue Blood vampire, a fal en angel, could guard one of the Gates of Hel .

Yet I do not think he is lying
, Schuyler sent.

I agree. He believes he is the gatekeeper, which is more troubling
, Jack replied.
Let's deal with this later. For now, we must leave this place as
quickly as we can.

The three of them went into town to load up on supplies, purchasing only things they could carry on their backs and nothing they didn't need. Before leaving New York, Jack had transferred monies to several secret offshore accounts that remained unknown to the Committee. He left to find suitable outdoor equipment while Schuyler and Ghedi went to the market to buy food--more flour, rice, coffee, eggs, canned soups. The Italian proprietress regarded Ghedi's dark skin and Schuyler's odd clothes with a suspicious eye, but she was mol ified when Schuyler pul ed out a huge bankrol of euros.

Schuyler wondered about her newfound appetite. She was voracious, and it was a hunger that could be satisfied with a good meal. She had not taken the blood since leaving New York. Jack had urged her to perform the
Caerimonia Osculor
, but she found there was no need. If anything, she felt stronger and more clearheaded without the blood. She strove to avoid it for as long as she was able. It felt wrong, somehow, to share something so intimate with someone who wasn't her love. With Oliver, of course, it had been different. It was stil difficult to think about her best friend and former familiar. Her heart had healed, but she missed their friendship.

"I am sorry about your mother, Ghedi," Schuyler said as they walked back to meet Jack at the boat. "We both are."

"It is al right. She is dead now. It is better."

"Don't say that."

"It is the truth. Now she is at peace."

"And Father B., too," Schuyler added. "You must have been very close to him."

"He was the only family I ever real y knew. He taught me everything. But it is al right,
signorina
. In my country I have seen worse. I was very lucky to have been chosen by the missionaries." Ghedi smiled.

It was amazing how someone who had survived the double-fisted tragedy of war and grief could cal himself lucky, Schuyler thought. Whether he was tel ing them the truth or was simply confused or misinformed about what or who he was, he was a good man, she could feel it. She found much to admire in Ghedi's humor and optimism, and chastised herself for her constant anxiety and stress. Ghedi had lost everything, not once but several times in his life.

His home was a pile of rubble, his entire family was dead, and his mentor murdered. Yet he treaded lightly, with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

Whereas she who had everything--for Jack was everything--was constantly bemoaning the fact that she had no idea how long it would last, the two of them together. Instead of fearing the future, I should live and enjoy the present, she told herself.

When they arrived back at the harbor, Jack was locking up the cabin. He had folded the blankets, refil ed the kerosene lamp, and had made sure the fishing boat was no worse for wear after their visit.

Thank you for sheltering us, Schuyler thought, putting a hand on a cabin wal . May your harvests be plentiful. She picked up one of the hiker's racks that Jack had left on the deck and began to fil it with provisions: the food supplies, a thin waterproof blanket, the battered Repository files that she kept in a watertight envelope.

Schuyler lifted her pack onto her shoulders and struggled a bit under the weight until she found her bearings.

"Too heavy?" Jack asked. "I can take more." He was already carrying the tents and the bulk of their supplies.

"No, it's al right."

Ghedi straightened up as wel . "Ready?"

They kept to the paved road that led from the town up to the mountain path, which was mostly deserted except for an occasional car or two. Once they were a few miles out of town, Jack led them off the road, deeper into the forest. Schuyler was glad for the new warm jacket she had bought in town, along with the thick socks and the hiking boots. For a while she marveled at how much her life had changed.

How odd to think that not too long ago she was sitting in a classroom dreaming her life away, lost in a world of her own making, living as if she were almost half asleep, a wal flower on the fringes, the girl without a voice. Then last year, she and Oliver had embarked on that harried, whirlwind tour around the world--their only instinct to run away as far and fast as they could. She realized that was why there had been so many close brushes with the Venators, who patrol ed the metropolitan areas. She and Oliver had been on their turf.

But not in the forests, Jack had explained. Not in the wild. Here, they were safe.

For fifteen years Schuyler had almost never left New York. What a difference the Transformation had made; not only had she traveled al round the globe, now she was hiking the Italian mountain range. She looked over to Jack, who felt her gaze.

All right?
he sent.

"It's an adventure." She smiled. It was a rush being on their own, final y free of the Countess.
Every day with you is a new adventure.

Jack smiled and continued to forge ahead, clearing a path with his walking stick, brushing away dead branches and warning them of slippery rocks.

For a human, Ghedi displayed a monumental level of endurance, but even he was tired after a ful day's climb. They arrived at a plateau near the top of Monte Rosa and stopped to enjoy the panoramic view of the coast below. They had made good time. Tomorrow, if they kept up the pace, they would be in Pontremoli by midnight.

They agreed to rest for the evening. There was a creek not too far away where they could refil their water bottles, and the ground was nice and dry.

Ghedi chose to set up a little ways away to give them their privacy. Schuyler removed her pack and helped Jack set up their tent. They worked wordlessly together, a team. Once the tent was secure, Schuyler offered to bring fresh water to boil for supper. She poured the water into the kettle and set it on the fire that Jack had started.

"We have to ask him," Schuyler said, kneeling in front of the flames. "It just doesn't make sense, unless he was Baldessarre's Conduit. But somehow I don't think he was."

Jack promised to bring it up, and when Ghedi joined them in front of the fire, Jack let their friend warm up a little before he asked the question. "Tel me, Ghedi," he said in a friendly voice. "How is it that one of the most important places in our history has come under the jurisdiction of a teenage priest?"

Jack removed his shoe and shook out a few pebbles, stretching his long legs closer to the fire. He had adopted a casual air, but for a moment Schuyler was worried Jack was going to grab Ghedi by the throat again.

"What happened to the vampires who were guarding the site, you mean," Ghedi said. He gazed off into the distance. "They are lost."

"Kil ed?"

"I do not know. No one does. They have been gone a long time now. Father B. told me that when his order took over, only the Conduits were left. The original guardians were long gone."

"Silver Bloods?" Schuyler asked, looking at Jack.

"No." Jack shook his head. "If the Croatan had taken the gate, the world as we know it would not exist. Something else must have happened."

"You mentioned that Father B. had questions for Lawrence," she said to Ghedi. "I don't know if I have those answers, but I can try to find them. That's what we're here for."

"Yes. We have much to discuss, but it is a dangerous business. Let us talk when we are in the safety of the monastery. The original gatekeepers put wards there." He looked nervously around the surrounding woods, scared that they were being watched. Schuyler understood that even in their relative isolation, with the Silver Blood threat, one was never quite alone.

"Ghedi is right: we shal not mention it until then," Jack said, throwing a stick into the fire and watching the flames dance around it.

Schuyler agreed, Ghedi's words turning over slowly in her head. Something about what he'd said was bothering her.
When the Petruvian Order took
over, only the Conduits were left.
"So Father Baldessarre, he wasn't . . . he wasn't a vampire either," she said slowly, letting the information sink in. She stil couldn't believe it.

"No. He was human, like me."

"And when did his order take charge?" Jack asked sharply.

"Sometime in the fifteenth century."

Schuyler exchanged a wary look with Jack. Humans had been in charge of protecting one of the Gates of Hel for centuries now. This was certainly not what they had thought they would find on their search. Human gatekeepers! What did this mean? And what questions did they have? What were they hoping her grandfather would tel them?

Ghedi said good night, and retired for the evening. When he was gone, Schuyler removed the stack of Repository files from her pack. She rifled through the yel owed pages, reading.

"I just don't understand," she said, looking up from her papers. "Halcyon was an Enmortal. Like Lawrence, like Kingsley, like every one of those who were inducted into the Order of the Seven. So how did Father Baldessarre and the Petruvians come to be the gatekeepers? Something must have happened in the fifteenth century--but what?"

Jack frowned. "The only reason would be desperation. Halcyon must have had no other choice. Otherwise, why would she trust a group of humans to do a vampire's job?"

They puzzled over it some more. Schuyler did not want to voice any more fears or show how unsettled their latest discovery had made her. While she was half-human herself, the Blue Bloods were strictly a closed society. Human knowledge of vampire existence was tightly restricted to the traditional positions of familiar or Conduit. Red Bloods were not privy to the workings of the shadow world. What Ghedi had described was a breach of the highest level, something that could upend everything she knew and understood about the Code of the Vampires. And if the Code was not real, then what was?

She took the first watch and kissed Jack good night. He could not argue her out of it, and had final y agreed to rest.

Schuyler shivered slightly, but something told her it wasn't from the mountain breeze. Four centuries had past with
human
gatekeepers guarding the Gate of Promise. She was glad for the fire. It burned a clear, azure blue, steady and true, against the wind.

The Man From the Citadel

Florence, 1452

The Silver Blood chanced a glance in their direction, and immediately the cloaked stranger disappeared.

"We've been spotted. Now!" Dre urged, running toward their prey. Gio and Tomi burst out of the shadows, golden swords at the ready, and the
chase resumed.

They followed the Silver Blood through the crooked streets, all the way into the cathedral, to the very top of Brunelleschi's unfinished dome, the
highest point in Florence.

The Silver Blood dodged their blows with an agility and strength equal to their own. It was unlike any other they had ever encountered, but in the
end, it was still no match for the three armed Venators. Backed into a corner, it snarled and hissed, knowing it had already lost.

Dre drew his sword to its throat and prepared to deliver the final stroke, when a voice rang out from the stairway. Someone else had followed them
up to the spire.

"Heel, Venator."

They turned to see a hooded stranger approach. Under the moonlight, they saw that he was wearing the colored robes and gold chains of the
Citadel. His features were still hidden by the hood of his cloak, but it was the same human the Silver Blood had spoken to earlier.

"This creature is not yours to send to Hell, for he is already there," the dark man declared, and with a wave of his hand the Silver Blood
disappeared into the black flames.

Tomi gasped, shocked and dismayed as she realized that the creature they were chasing was no Silver Blood, no fallen angel from Heaven, but
a demon from Hell itself.