Gates of Paradise - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,3

taking a seat across from them and crossing her arms, feeling a bit like a schoolmarm tending to her naughty pupils. "Where's everyone else?"

"After-party in Notting Hill," replied Oliver as he threw the flask to Kingsley, who caught it and took a slug.

"Jolly good show," Kingsley said to Oliver. "Didn't think you'd be able to keep up with us."

Oliver smirked, flexing his broad shoulders. All those workouts in the underworld had paid off. "Your age is showing, old man...."

"Anyway - good news, yeah?" Kingsley said. "Tell her."

"Tell me what?" Schuyler asked, fully expecting to hear of some new conquest one of them had made.

"While we were running across the riverbank, we bumped into someone." Oliver grinned.

"Who?"

"Lucas Mendrion, a retired Venator captain. He - ahem - recognized Kingsley."

"Venator tattoo," Kingsley explained with a smirk. "Invisible to the human eye."

Oliver ignored him. "He said he didn't know any vampires were still around - he'd thought everyone had gone underground - he hadn't heard Kingsley had sent out a bulletin, and we got to talking and it turned out he'd been one of Gabrielle's Protectors during Rome."

"What's that?"

"Exactly what it means. Venators assigned to her protection," Oliver said.

"And?" Schuyler leaned forward.

"He said he has something important to tell you." Kingsley grinned. "About your mother's legacy."

"You think it might be about the three remaining gatekeepers?" Schuyler asked. She had thought that if anyone knew anything to help them unlock the secret of the Gate of Promise, it would be one of the surviving members of the original order. Three left of the original Order of the Seven - Onbasius, Pantaleum, and Octilla were still alive, their whereabouts unknown.

"Maybe. He said it wasn't safe to talk, so he's coming to meet with us here. Tomorrow. I mean, tonight," Oliver said, looking at the clock, which showed that it was half past three in the morning. "Caught a break finally." He punched Kingsley on the shoulder, and the two of them looked at Schuyler like eager puppies hoping for a treat.

It was just as Jack used to say - one lead was all they needed - one light against the darkness and all would be illuminated. Jack...if only he were here with her now...but Schuyler couldn't continue to dwell on his absence. She had vowed to move forward. There was that feeling again - that odd sensation that she was not alone - but she ignored it. She was just paranoid.

So Schuyler returned their smiles, happy to bestow praise. "Happy New Year indeed."
Chapter Two

Mimi

hat are you singing?" Jack asked, whispering.

Mimi started. She hadn't noticed she was humming out loud. She began to sing: "'Leaving on a midnight train to Georgia...'" Her voice carried through the empty cabin, low and soft. They were on a train headed from the Ninth Circle of Hell back up to the gatepost at the crossing, back to their world, at their master's bidding. Unlike the dirty subway car that had taken her back to the surface last time, now she was seated in a first-class carriage, complete with reclining seats and troll attendants on call. There was a difference in trying to escape from Hell and willingly leaving with its master's permission.

"'Bought a one-way ticket to a life he once knew,'" Jack sang, his voice a complement to hers. When the song ended, they shared a rueful smile, identical down to the dimples on their chins. Just like looking in a mirror, Mimi thought, glancing at her twin. How could she have ever hated him? Jack was part of her, had always been. She didn't know how she could have survived all these long years in the underworld without him by her side. Time was different down here: she understood it intellectually, but it was still disorienting to live outside of the circadian rhythms. There was no day, no night, just an endless present. She had no idea how long they had been away from their own world.

Once again, they had been yoked to each other for a difficult task - Dark Angels secretly fighting for the Light, hiding their better natures in order to win their freedom from each other.

She removed a jeweled compact from her purse and powdered her nose, admiring her reflection. She was the Mighty Azrael, Angel of the Apocalypse. The most beautiful girl in the underworld. Even the Dark Prince - that old rat bastard - had hinted that if she ever tired of Abbadon, he wouldn't mind getting to know her a little better. How