Gates of Paradise (a Blue Bloods Novel)

“Why do you always assume it was me who did something wrong?” Lawson protested.

“Because you’ve screwed up before,” she snapped. “Remember how I got left behind the last time?”

They sounded like an old married couple, Bliss thought. Which implied a certain kind of intimacy that she didn’t want to think about too much. Besides, it was ridiculous to even consider. Ahramin and Lawson? If they hadn’t been in the same pack, it was clear they would have despised each other. Besides, Ahramin had been pledged to Edon from the beginning. No, they weren’t like a married couple—more like bickering siblings, which made more sense.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Ahri; he’s doing his best,” Edon said.

“It wasn’t Lawson,” Malcolm said. “It’s like the passages have closed up on their own. Can’t you feel it?”

Rafe nodded. “It did feel different, like something was blocking them.”

“Or someone,” Bliss said.





FOUR


Tomasia (Florence, 1452)


he castle came into view at the edge of a black and winding river, its tall gray walls rising forty feet above the dark waters. Steep cliffs backed the fortress, which meant the stone bridge was the only way in or out. The keep was well fortified, designed to repel a siege. But its defenses would soon prove useless.

“We’ll stop here, lest we give away our location,” Tomasia Fosari decided, and the team drifted into the shadows of the forest. The air was damp and smelled of the rotting river, its murky waters rippling with the current.

“Are you certain you can do this?” Giovanni Rustici asked. In the moonlight his hair was like a halo around his handsome face. Gio was not only the best Venator among them, he was also a fellow sculptor at Donatello’s studio, and Tomasia’s closest friend. He knew how hard this was for her. They had spent days on the road tracking the Dark Prince to his hiding place in Verona.

“Yes,” Tomasia told him, her face set. She had believed that Andreas del Pollaiuolo was the love of her life. Michael to her Gabrielle. But she had been deceived. Dre carried the spirit of Lucifer within him. Simonetta de Vespucci had named him as the father of her baby. “The Mistress,” Simonetta was called, consort to the Dark Prince, his human bride, the mother of Nephilim.

The dark-haired beauty had cowered from Gio’s blade.

“We shall not suffer the demon child to live,” Gio growled.

But Tomi had stayed his hand. “No. She will be kept under guard, protected and watched by our finest Venators. We would be no better than our Silver Blood brethren if we kill her. We shall not shed devil blood, not in the name of all that is Divine.”

Simonetta had revealed Andreas’s location, had begged them to show her lover mercy. They had left the weeping, pregnant woman in the care of the Petruvian priests tasked with her safety.

Tomi shivered at the thought of what might have been if they had not discovered the deception. She would have bonded with Dre, with Lucifer. She would have pledged her troth to his. How could she not have known? How was it that she had been able to see her mate in his soul? It did not make sense.

She looked at the castle looming in the distance. Andreas was hiding inside with a Coven of Silver Bloods, and she was going to burn it down with the Black Fire.

“I know you loved him once,” Gio said softly. “I know how hard this is.”

Gio—dear, lovely Gio. Tomi put a hand on his. “I cannot love one who has been false.” She scanned the castle once more for any sign of life. Torchlight flickered in a distant window. She heard horses neigh, and a shadow of a hawk passed over her head. Otherwise, the night was quiet and nothing moved. The castle towers’ red terra-cotta roofs glowed in the dark. Truly, no terrestrial fire could harm this place, but the Black Fire of Hell was another matter.

She pulled a tinderbox from her cloak and motioned the others to gather around. There were five of them in all. Five Venators, five sides of a pentagram.

The small container glowed with an unearthly light, and the air around it hummed with energy. Tomi ran a finger along the box top, and the lid slid open to reveal a small glowing spark, red flames with a black heart. The air smelled of sulfur and smoke.

“The Black Fire is held in check by a containment spell for now. The spell will not abate until I release the enchantment,” she said as, one by one, the Venators lit their wooden torches with the dark flame.