"What was she like?" Schuyler asked. She knew so little of Allegra, and was eager for any little bits of insight or memory of her mother.
"Exactly the same as when I knew her in Rome," he said. "Impulsive, tenacious, brilliant. She was...our queen."
Schuyler nodded. "I'm sorry - where are my manners - this is Oliver Hazard-Perry, my Conduit, and you know Venator Martin."
Oliver and Kingsley both stood and shook the man's hand. Kingsley poured everyone drinks.
"So - shall we get started? It's good of you to have put together this dinner, but I'm afraid we don't have much time for idle chitchat," Mendrion said. "Martin said you were here to carry out Allegra's legacy."
Schuyler nodded. "They tell me you know about my family's work, and about the Order of the Seven."
"Those of us who were not chosen to serve the order served it in other ways," Mendrion said. "Gabrielle asked me to ensure the safety of this city from its founding." He took a sip from his glass. "As you must be aware, all the Gates of Hell are under siege at the moment; although so far London has been lucky enough to escape the Dark Prince's wrath."
"Do you know where the remaining keepers are - Pentalum? Onbasius? Octilla?" asked Oliver.
The Venator nodded. "Yes. We sent all our remaining Venators to bolster the security of the gates, but the odds are against them. The keepers will stand their ground and give their lives to the battle. But they will fall. The gates will fall. It is only a matter of time. The Nephilim walk the earth now. They will grow in number and influence the Red Bloods. Sow war and disease and despair."
Schuyler saw Oliver and Kingsley looking as uneasy as she felt. The Venator's words were defeatist, as if the battle had already been fought and lost.
"You sent all the Venators away?" Schuyler asked, her face falling, realizing why there were so few vampires left in London when they arrived; why it had been so difficult for Kingsley to raise a battalion.
"Yes. That is why I am here." He coughed. "To urge you to make your preparations to go underground, as I am."
"Excuse me?" Schuyler asked, startled.
"War has come to the vampires; the Croatan has risen. You are not safe here. Especially you, Schuyler Van Alen, as Gabrielle's daughter."
"I'm not going anywhere! Kingsley said you could help us!" she said, turning to the other Venator in the room, who looked impassive.
"I am helping you," Mendrion said.
"By abandoning the city? Abandoning your post? You were tasked to guard this Coven! To protect the city that houses the Gate of Promise - do you know where that path leads? What is behind that gate and its true nature?" she asked, her blue eyes shining with anger and indignation.
"It is too dangerous to know," Mendrion whispered.
"You took an oath! To my mother! To Gabrielle!"
"I kept this city safe for as long as I was able. I financed the Coven, trained the Venators, supported the Regis for as long as I could. But with Michael missing and Gabrielle gone...there is no hope for us. When I recognized Martin as one of our own and he told me you were here, I agreed to meet with you so I could warn you to hide. It's the least I could do."
Schuyler felt wrathful, angry at the cowardly Venator in front of her. His ageless countenance wavered, and for a moment he looked centuries old, crippled, weak, and frightened. A sad creature. Her grandmother Cordelia was right - the blood had thinned in their kind. There was little left of their former courage, their former glory, if even the Venators were cowards.
Kingsley said the words that she was thinking: "So there's nothing you can do to help us - nothing except to tell us to cower and shirk our duty," he said, a smirk on his lips.
"Venator Mendrion, you cannot leave London. The attack on the Gates of Hell is nothing but a distraction, and an effective one," Schuyler said. "Lucifer wants the vampires facing the other way. He cares not for the Nephilim, but only for the Gate of Promise, which leads to - "
Lucas Mendrion put up his hand to silence her. "I told you, I don't want to know."
Schuyler frowned.
"You are very young and very brave. Very much like your mother. She would be proud of you," Mendrion said.
Schuyler ignored him. She had no time for his condescension. "You told Kingsley you knew something about the Gate of Promise, about its creation."
"No, I never said that." He shook his head. "I merely told him of my relationship with Gabrielle, and he must have assumed the rest. Why? What do you want to know?"
"We have the key to the gate," Schuyler said, choosing her words carefully. "But we don't know how to use it."
Mendrion studied her thoughtfully. "If anyone might know, perhaps Titiana might. She was assigned to Gabrielle's protection from the beginning, as I was. They were like sisters."
"Where can we find her?"
"Truth be told, I haven't seen her in centuries," Mendrion said, holding his glass to Kingsley for another drop of whiskey.
"Why? What happened to her? A Silver Blood attack?" asked Schuyler.
Mendrion shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. Have you heard of the 'mortalize' movement?"
Schuyler nodded. The mortalize movement was a growing trend among the Blue Bloods - vampires choosing to live as mortals - forgetting their history and passing as Red Bloods. She had heard that it happened a lot, especially during the long peaceful years when the Silver Bloods were all but forgotten.
"I fear that's what's happened to Titiana. She's chosen to turn back against her vampire roots," Mendrion said.
Schuyler tried not to feel too aghast. While it had been a burden when she'd first learned her true history and ancestry - she remembered the feeling in her stomach when she was first called to join the Committee - how she had refused to believe it was true - and how she wished she had come from a normal family, and not one where her mother was in a coma and her grandmother was her only link to her past. But to chuck it all away? To pretend to be what you were not? When there was so much at stake?
Mendrion gave Schuyler a sympathetic smile. "If it helps, I hear that she might be a student at Central Saint Martins. Some sort of fashion designer. Calls herself Tilly St. James."
The housekeeper entered the room. "Dinner is ready."