Showing posts with label melissa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label melissa. Show all posts
Friday, February 24, 2017
Revelations by Melissa de la Cruz
Revelations by Melissa de la Cruz
Have you ever wondered what secrets lurk behind the closed doors of New York City’s wealthiest families? Theyre powerful, theyre famous... theyre undead.Schuyler Van Alen’s blood legacy has just been called into question—is the young vampire in fact a Blue Blood, or is it the sinister Silver Blood that runs through her veins?
As controversy swirls, Schuyler is left stranded in the Force household, trapped under the same roof as her cunning nemesis, Mimi Force, and her forbidden crush, Jack Force.When one of the Gates of Hell is breached by Silver Bloods in Rio de Janeiro, however, the Blue Bloods will need Schuyler on their side. The stakes are high; the battle is bloody; and through it all, Carnavale rages on. And in the end, one vampire’s secret identity will be exposed in a revelation that shocks everyone.
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A Sneak Peek on Revelations by Melissa de la Cruz ebook,
Blue Bloods Book Series # 3
On early and bitterly cold morning in late March, Schuyler Van Alen let herself inside the glass doors of the Duchesne School, feeling relieved as she walked into the soaring barrel-ceiling entryway dominated by an imposing John Singer Sargent portrait of the schools founders. She kept the hood of her fur-trimmed parka over her thick dark hair, preferring anonymity rather than the casual greetings exchanged by other students.
It was odd to think of the school as a haven, an escape, a place she looked forward to going. For so long, Duchesne, with its shiny marble floors and sweeping vistas of Central Park, had been nothing less than a torture chamber. She had dreaded walking up the grand staircase, felt miserable in its inadequately heated classrooms, and even managed to despise the gorgeous terrazzo tiles in the refectory.
At school Schuyler often felt ugly and invisible, although her deep-set blue eyes and delicate Dresden-doll features belied this. All her life, her well-heeled classmates had treated her like a freak, an outcast—unwanted and untouchable. Even if her family was one of the oldest and most illustrious names in the citys history, times had changed. The Van Alens, once a proud and prestigious clan, had shrunk and withered over the centuries, so that they were now practically extinct. Schuyler was one of the last.
For a while, Schuyler had hoped her grandfathers return from exile would change that—that Lawrences presence in her life would mean she was no longer alone. But those hopes were dashed when Charles Force took her away from the shabby brownstone on Riverside Drive, the only home
she had ever known.
"Are you going to move or do I have to do something
about it?"
Schuyler started. She hadnt noticed that shed been standing in a daze in front of her locker and the one above it. The bells signaling the start of the day were clanging wildly. Behind her stood Mimi Force, her new housemate.
No matter how out of place Schuyler felt at school, it was no comparison to the arctic freeze she weathered on a daily basis at the Forces grand town house across from the Metropolitan Museum. At Duchesne, she didnt have to overhear Mimi grumbling about her every second of the day. Or at least it only happened every few hours. No wonder Duchesne felt so welcoming lately.
Even though Lawrence Van Alen was now Regis, head of the Blue Bloods, he had been powerless to stop the adoption process. The Code of the Vampires stipulated a strict adherence to human laws, to keep the Blue Bloods safe from unwanted scrutiny. In her last will and testament, Schuylers grandmother had declared her an emancipated minor, but in a wily move, Charles Forces lawyers had contested its tenets in the Red Blood courts. The courts found in their favor, and Charles had been named the executor of the estate, winning Schuyler as part of the package.
"Well?" Mimi was still waiting.
"Oh. Uh. Sorry," Schuyler said, grabbing a textbook and moving aside.
"Sorry is right," Mimi narrowed her emerald green eyes and gave Schuyler a contemptuous look. The same look shed given Schuyler across the dinner table last night, and the same look shed given Schuyler when theyd bumped into each other in the hallway that morning. The look said: What are you doing here? You have no right to exist.
"What did I ever do to you?" Schuyler whispered, tucking a book into her worn canvas bag.
"You saved her life!"
Mimi glared at the striking redhead who had spoken.
Bliss Llewellyn, Texan transplant and former Mimi acolyte, glared back. Blisss cheeks were as red as her hair. "She saved your skin in Venice, and you dont even have the decency to be grateful!" Once upon a time Bliss had been Mimis shadow, happy to follow her every directive, but a trust had broken between the two former friends since the last Silver Blood attack, when Mimi had been revealed as a willing, if ineffective, conspirator. Mimi had been condemned to burn, until Schuyler had come to her aid at the blood trial.
"She didnt save my life. She merely told the truth. My life was never in danger," Mimi replied as she ran a silver hairbrush through her fine hair.
"Ignore her," Bliss told Schuyler.
Schuyler smiled, feeling braver now that she had backup. "Its hard to do. Its like pretending global warming doesnt exist." She would pay for that comment later, she knew. There would be pebbles in her breakfast cereal. Black tar on her sheets. Or the newest inconvenience—the disappearance of yet another of her swiftly dwindling possessions. Already she was missing her mothers locket, her leather gloves, and a beloved dog-eared copy of Kafkas The Trial, inscribed on the first page with the initials "J. F."
Schuyler would be the first to admit that the second guest bedroom in the Forces mansion (the first remained reserved for visiting dignitaries) was hardly the cupboard under the stairs. Her room was beautifully decorated and sumptuously appointed with everything a girl could want: a four-poster queen-size bed with a pillowy duvet, closets full of designer clothes, a high-end entertainment center, dozens of toys for Beauty, her bloodhound, and a new featherlight MacBook Air. But if her new home was rich in material gifts, it lacked the charm of the old one.
She missed her old room, with its Mountain Dew-yellow walls and rickety desk. She missed the dusty shrouded living room. She missed Hattie and Julius, who had been with the family since she was an infant. She missed her grandfather, of course. But most of all, she missed her freedom.
"You okay?" Bliss asked, nudging her. Schuyler had returned from Venice with a new address and an unexpected ally. While she and Bliss had always been friendly, now they were almost inseparable.
"Yeah. Im used to it. I could take her in a cage fight." Schuyler smiled. Seeing Bliss at school was one of the small reprieves of happiness that Duchesne afforded.
She took the winding back stairs, following the stream of people heading in the same direction, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the barest flicker and knew. It was him. She didnt have to look to know he was among the crowd of students walking the opposite way. She could always sense him, as if her nerves were fine-tuned antennae receptors that picked up whenever he was near. Maybe it was the vampire in her, giving her the ability to tell when another was close by, or maybe it had nothing to do with her otherworldly powers at all.
Jack.
His eyes were focused straight ahead, as if he never even saw her, never registered her presence. His sleek blond hair, the same translucent shade as his sisters, was slicked back from his proud forehead; and unlike the other boys around him, dressed in varying degrees of sloppiness, he looked regal in a blazer and tie. He was so handsome it was hard for Schuyler to breathe. But just as at the town house—Schuyler refused to call it home—Jack ignored her.
She snuck one more glance his way and then hurried up the stairs. Glass had already started when she arrived. Schuyler tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as she walked, out of habit, toward the back seats by the window. Oliver Hazard-Perry was seated there, bent over his notebook.
But she caught herself just in time and moved across the room to sit next to the clanging radiator, without saying hello to her best friend.
Charles Force had made it clear: now that she was under his roof, she would have to follow his rules. The first rule was that Schuyler was forbidden to see her grandfather. The animosity between Charles and Lawrence ran deep, and not only because Lawrence had displaced Charless position in the Conclave.
"I dont want him filling your head with lies," Charles had told her. "He may rule the Coven, but he has no power in my house. If you disobey me, I promise you will regret it."
The second rule of living at the Forces was that she was forbidden to associate with Oliver. Charles had been apoplectic when hed discovered that Schuyler had made Oliver (her designated Conduit) her human familiar. "First of all, you are much too young. Secondly, it is anathema. Distasteful. Conduits are servants. They are not—they do not fulfill the services of familiars. You must take a new human immediately and sever all relations with this boy."
If pressed, she would grudgingly admit that Charles was probably right. Oliver was her best friend, and she had marked him as her own, had taken his blood into hers, and there had been consequences to her actions. Sometimes she wished they could go back to the way they were before everything became so complicated.
Schuyler had no idea why Charles would care whom she made her familiar anyway, since the Forces had done away with the old-fashioned practice of keeping human Conduits. But she followed the rules to the letter. As far as anyone could see, she had absolutely no contact with Lawrence, and had refrained from performing the Sacred Kiss with Oliver.
There were so many things in her new life that she could and couldnt do.
But there were some places where the rules did not apply. Somewhere that Charles had no power. Somewhere Schuyler could be free.
Thats what secret hiding places were for.
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Monday, February 6, 2017
Lost in Time by Melissa de la Cruz
Lost in Time by Melissa de la Cruz
Meanwhile, determined to save the only vampire she still loves, Mimi has followed Kingsley Martin into Hell. With the help of her new human Conduit, Oliver Hazard-Perry, Mimi makes a bargain with the Queen of the Dead that she may soon regret. When the time comes to choose between love and revenge, both Mimi and Oliver will learn the true meaning of sacrifice.
Confronted by danger, betrayal, and loss at every turn, the Blue Bloods must find the will to fight-and love-another day.
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A Sneak Peek on Lost in Time by Melissa de la Cruz ebook, A Blue Bloods Novel Series Book # 6
“Maybe it’s the opposite. maybe we’re actually going in the right direction this time.”
Jack smiled and put a little more gas on the pedal. In comparison to the hordes descending upon the beach city, the traffic leading into the capital was light, and for Egypt, they were practically cruising, if that was the correct way to describe the chaotic scene on the highway.
The Alexandria desert road was notorious for fearsome bus crashes and fatal accidents, and it was easy to see why: cars sped wildly, bobbing in and out of lanes at whim, while massive trucks looked as if they would pitch and roll every time they swerved to attain the slightest advantage. Once in a while someone would hit a random speed bump—either a huge unmarked crater or debris that had never been cleared—and traffic would screech to a halt without warning, causing a massive pileup. Schuyler was thankful Jack was a good driver; he seemed to know instinctively when to speed up or slow down, and they weaved through the careening vehicles without a scratch or near miss.
At least they weren’t driving at night, when cars didn’t even have their headlights on, since Egyptian drivers believed headlights burned through gas too quickly, and so made do without them. It was fine for vampires, of course, but Schuyler always worried for the poor humans who were barreling through in the dark—driving blind, like bats fluttering in a cave.
For seven months, she and Jack had lived in Alexandria, wandering through the picturesque cafés and airy museums.
The city had been designed to rival Rome and Athens at their height. Cleopatra had made it the seat of her throne, and while there were a few traces of the ancient outpost still visible—a scattering of sphinxes, statues, and obelisks—there was actually very little that remained of the ancient world in the bustling metropolis.
When they’d first arrived, Schuyler had been filled with hope, and heartened by Jack’s faith and presence, she was certain they would soon find what they sought. Florence had been a decoy, and Alexandria was the only other possibility regarding the true location of the Gate of Promise according to her grandfather’s files, which had documented Catherine of Siena’s travels from Rome to the Red Sea. Schuyler’s mother had trusted her with the family legacy: to find and protect the remaining Gates of Hell, which kept the world safe from the demons of the underworld.
They had checked in to the Cecil Hotel, a favorite of Somerset maugham’s and one that had been popular during the British Colonial era. Schuyler had been charmed by the 1930s-style caged elevator and its splendid marble lobby, which oozed old Hollywood grandeur. She could imagine mar-lene Dietrich arriving with a dozen trunks, a footman to carry her feather-trimmed hats alone.
Schuyler began her search at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, an attempt to recreate the great library that had been lost over two thousand years ago (or so the Red Bloods thought, as the library still existed in the New York Coven’s Repository of History). Like the original institution, the grounds of the Bibliotheca sprawled to include acres of gardens, as well as a planet-arium and a conference center. A wealthy and secretive local matron had been instrumental in its foundation, and Schuyler had been certain she had found Catherine at last. But when they visited the grand patroness in her elegant salon overlooking the Eastern Harbor, it was obvious from the beginning that she was human, and no Enmortal, as she was sick and dying, lying in a bed, attached to a series of tubes.
As she and Jack had walked out of the elderly woman’s room, Schuyler felt the first flicker of anxiety that she was letting down not only her beloved grandfather and her enigmatic mother, but also the boy she so dearly loved. So far, finding the gatekeeper was turning out to be a difficult—if not impossible—task. Jack did not say anything that day, nor had he ever voiced any regret at his decision. Back in Florence, at the airport, he had escaped from the Venators and accepted her challenge, agreeing to her plan. She did not want to fail him.
She’d promised she would find a way out of the blood trial, a way for them to be together, and she would. The gatekeeper, Catherine of Siena, would help them, if only Schuyler could find her.
Their life in Egypt had settled into a comfortable routine.
Tired of hotel living, they’d rented a small house near the beach and concentrated on blending in as best they could. most of their neighbors left the young good-looking foreigners alone. Perhaps they sensed the vampire strength behind their friendly smiles.
In the mornings, Schuyler would comb the library, reading books on the Roman era, when Catherine was first tasked with the charge of keeper, and matching it to the files from Lawrence’s journal. Jack took on the footwork, using his Venator training to zero in on any clues as to her whereabouts, walking the city, talking to the locals. Enmortals were charis-matic and unforgettable beings—Lawrence Van Alen had been very popular during his exile in Venice, and Schuyler was betting that Catherine, or whatever she called herself these days, was the same: a magnetic personality whom no one could easily forget. In the late afternoons, Jack would stop by the library, and they would head to a café for lunch, sharing plates of mulukhiya stew over rice or spicy khoshary, and then return to their duties. They lived like locals, having dinner at mid-night, sipping fragrant anise tea until the wee hours of the morning.
Alex, as everyone calls the city, is a resort town, and as spring arrived and a breeze blew in from the mediterranean, buses and boatloads of tourists arrived to fill the hotels and beaches.
Their seven months together was sort of a honey-moon, Schuyler would realize later. A small slice of heaven, a brief and bright delay of the dark days that lay ahead. Their marriage was still young enough that they celebrated every month they were together, marking the time with little gestures, little gifts to each other: a small bracelet made of shells for her, a first edition of Hemingway for him. If Schuyler could keep Jack at her side, she believed she could keep him safe.
Her love for him was a shield that would keep him whole.
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Saturday, February 4, 2017
Blue Bloods by Melissa de la Cruz
Blue Bloods by Melissa de la Cruz
Schuyler wants to find out the secrets of the mysterious Blue Bloods. But is she putting herself in danger? Melissa de la Cruzs vampire mythology, set against the glitzy backdrop of New York City, is a juicy and intoxicating read.
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A Sneak Peek on Blue Bloods by Melissa de la Cruz ebook,
Blue Bloods Series Book # 1
 |
| Blue Bloods Book 1 for the Blue Bloods Series |
The pulsing music spilled out to the sidewalk, where Schuyler Van Alen, a small, dark-haired fifteen-year-old girl, whose bright blue eyes were ringed with dark kohl eye shadow, stood nervously at the back of the line in front of the club. She picked at her chipping black nail polish. "Do you really think well get in?" she asked.
"No sweat," her best friend, Oliver Hazard-Perry replied, cocking an eyebrow "Dylan guaranteed a cakewalk. Besides, we can always point to the plaque over there. Your family built this place, remember?" He grinned.
"So what else is new?" Schuyler smirked, rolling her eyes. The island of Manhattan was linked inexorably to her family history, and as far as she could tell, she was related to the FrickMuseum, the Van Wyck Expressway, and the Hayden Planetarium, give or take an institution (or major thoroughfare) or two. Not that it made any difference in her life. She barely had enough to cover the twenty-five dollar charge at the door.
Oliver affectionately swung an arm around her shoulders. "Stop worrying! You worry too much. Thisll be fun, I promise.”
"I wish Dylan had waited for us," Schuyler fretted, shivering in her long black cardigan with holes in each elbow. Shed found the sweater in a ManhattanValley thrift store last week. It smelled like decay and stale rosewater perfume, and her skinny frame was lost in its voluminous folds. Schuyler always looked like she was drowning in fabric. The black sweater reached almost to her calves, and underneath she wore a sheer black T-shirt over a worn gray thermal undershirt; and under that, a long peasant skirt that swept the floor. Like a nineteenth century street urchin, her skirt hems were black with dirt from dragging on the sidewalks. She was wearing her favorite pair of black-and-white Jack Purcell sneakers, the ones with the duct-taped hole on the right toe. Her dark wavy hair was pulled back with a beaded scarf shed found in her grandmothers closet.
Schuyler was startlingly pretty, with a sweet, heart-shaped face; a perfectly upturned nose; and soft, milky skin—but there was something almost insubstantial about her beauty. She looked like a Dresden doll in witchs clothing. Kids at the DuchesneSchool thought she dressed like a bag lady. It didnt help that she was painfully shy and kept to herself, because then they just thought she was stuck-up, which she wasnt. She was just quiet.
Oliver was tall and slim, with a fair, elfin face that was framed by a shag of brilliant chestnut hair. He had sharp cheekbones and sympathetic hazel eyes. He was wearing a severe military greatcoat over a flannel shirt and a pair of holey blue jeans. Of course, the flannel shirt was John Varvatos and the jeans from Citizens of Humanity. Oliver liked to play the part of disaffected youth, but he liked shopping in SoHo even more.
The two of them had been best friends ever since the second grade, when Schuylers nanny forgot to pack her lunch one day, and Oliver had given her half of his lettuce and mayo sandwich. They finished each others sentences and liked to read aloud from random pages of Infinite Jest when they were bored. Both were Duchesne legacy kids who traced their ancestry back to the Mayflower. Schuyler counted six U.S. presidents in her family tree alone. But even with their prestigious pedigrees, they didnt fit in at Duchesne. Oliver preferred museums to lacrosse, and Schuyler never cut her hair and wore things from consignment shops.
Dylan Ward was a new friend—a sad-faced boy with long lashes, smoldering eyes, and a tarnished reputation. Supposedly, he had a rap sheet and had just been sprung from military school. His grandfather had reportedly bribed Duchesne with funds for a new gym to let him enroll. He had immediately gravitated toward Schuyler and Oliver, recognizing their similar misfit status.
Schuyler sucked in her cheeks and felt a pit of anxiety forming in her stomach. Theyd been so comfortable just hanging out in Olivers room as usual, listening to music and flipping through the offerings on his TiVo; Oliver booting up another game of Vice City on the split screen, while she rifled through the pages of glossy magazines, fantasizing that she too, was lounging on a raft in Sardinia, dancing the flamenco in Madrid, or wandering pensively through the streets of Bombay.
"Im not sure about this," she said, wishing they were back in his cozy room instead of shivering outside on the sidewalk, waiting to see if they would pass muster at the door.
"Dont be so negative," Oliver chastised. It had been his idea to leave the comfort of his room to brave the New York nightlife, and he didnt want to regret it. "If you think well get in, well get in. Its all about confidence, trust me." Just then, his BlackBerry beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen. "Its Dylan. Hes inside, hell meet us by the windows on the second floor. Okay?”
"Do I really look all right?" she asked, feeling suddenly doubtful about her clothes.
"You look fine," he replied automatically. "You look great," he said, as his thumbs jabbed a reply on the plastic device.
"Youre not even looking at me.”
"I look at you every day." Oliver laughed, meeting her eye, then uncharacteristically blushing and looking away. His BlackBerry beeped again, and this time he excused himself, walking away to answer it.
Across the street, Schuyler saw a cab pull up to the curb, and a tall blond guy stepped out of it. Just as he emerged, another cab barreled down the street on the opposite side. It was swerving recklessly, and at first it looked like it would miss him, but at the last moment, the boy threw himself in its path and disappeared underneath its wheels. The taxicab never even stopped, just kept going as if nothing happened.
"Oh my God!" Schuyler screamed.
The guy had been hit—she was sure of it—hed been run over—he was surely dead.
"Did you see that?" she asked, frantically looking around for Oliver, who seemed to have disappeared. Schuyler ran across the street, fully expecting to see a dead body, but the boy was standing right in front of her, counting the change in his wallet. He slammed the door shut and sent his taxi on its way. He was whole and unhurt.
"You should be dead," she whispered.
"Excuse me?" he asked, a quizzical smile on his face.
Schuyler was a little taken aback—she recognized him from school. It was Jack Force. The famous Jack Force. One of those guys—head of the lacrosse team, lead in the school play, his term paper on shopping malls published in Wired, so handsome she couldnt even meet his eye.
Maybe she was dreaming things. Maybe she just thought shed seen him dive in front of the cab. That had to be it. She was just tired.
"I didnt know you were a dazehead," she blurted awkwardly, meaning a Trance acolyte.
"Im not, actually. Im headed over there," he explained, motioning to the club next door to The Bank, where a very intoxicated rock star was steering several giggling groupies past the velvet rope.
Schuyler blushed. "Oh, I should have known.”
He smiled at her kindly. "Why?”
"Why what?”
"Why apologize? How would you have known that? You read minds or something?" he asked.
"Maybe I do. And maybe its an off day." She smiled. He was flirting with her, and she was flirting back. Okay, so it was definitely just her imagination. He had totally not thrown himself in front of the cab.
She was surprised he was being so friendly. Most of the guys at Duchesne were so stuck-up, Schuyler didnt bother with them. They were all the same—with their Duck Head chinos and their guarded nonchalance, their bland jokes and their lacrosse field jackets. Shed never given Jack Force more than a fleeting thought—he was a junior, from the planet Popular; they might go to the same school but they hardly breathed the same air. And after all, his twin sister was the indomitable Mimi Force, whose one goal in life was to make everyone elses miserable. "On your way to a funeral?”
“Who died and made you homeless?" were some of Mimis unimaginative insults directed her way. Where was Mimi, anyway? Werent the Force twins joined at the hip?
"Listen, you want to come in?" Jack asked, smiling and showing his even, straight teeth. "Im a member.”
Before she could respond, Oliver materialized at her side. Where had he come from? Schuyler wondered. And how did he keep doing that? Oliver demonstrated a keen ability to suddenly show up the minute you didnt want him there. "There you are, my dear," he said, with a hint of reproach.
Schuyler blinked. "Hey, Ollie. Do you know Jack?”
"Who doesnt?" Oliver replied, pointedly ignoring him. "Babe, you coming?" he demanded in a proprietary tone. "Theyre finally letting people in." He motioned to The Bank, where a steady stream of black-clad teenagers were being herded through the fluted columns.
"I should go," she said apologetically.
"So soon?" Jack asked, his eyes dancing again.
"Not soon enough," Oliver added, smiling threateningly.
Jack shrugged. "See you around, Schuyler," he said, pulling up the collar on his tweed coat and walking in the opposite direction.
"Some people," Oliver complained, as they rejoined their line. He crossed his arms and looked annoyed.
Schuyler was silent, her heart fluttering in her chest. Jack Force knew her name.
They inched forward, ever closer to the drag queen with the clipboard glaring imperiously behind the velvet rope. The Elvira clone sized up each group with a withering stare, but no one was turned away.
"Now, remember, if they give us any trouble, just be cool and think positive. You have to visualize us getting in, okay?" Oliver whispered fiercely.
Schuyler nodded. They walked forward, but their progress was interrupted by a bouncer holding up a big meaty paw "IDs!" he barked.
With shaking fingers, Schuyler retrieved a drivers license with someone elses name—but her own picture—on its laminated surface. Oliver did the same. She bit her lip. She was so going to get caught and thrown in jail for this. But she remembered what Oliver had said. Be cool. Confident. Think positive.
The bouncer waved their IDs under an infrared machine, which didnt beep. He paused, frowning, and held their IDs up for inspection, giving the two of them a doubtful look.
Schuyler tried to project a calm she didnt feel, her heart beating fast underneath her thin layers. Of course I look twenty-one. Ive been here before. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that ID, she thought.
The bouncer slid it under the machine again. The big man shook his head. "This isnt right," he muttered.
Oliver looked at Schuyler, his face pale. Schuyler thought she was going to faint. She had never been so nervous in her life. Minutes ticked by. People behind them in line made impatient noises.
Nothing wrong with that ID. Cool and confident. Cool and confident. She visualized the bouncer waving them through, the two of them entering the club. LET US IN. LET US IN. LET US IN JUST LET US IN!
The bouncer looked up, startled, almost as if hed heard her. It felt as though time had stopped. Then, just like that, he returned their cards and waved them forward, just as Schuyler had pictured.
Schuyler exhaled. She and Oliver exchanged a restrained look of glee.
They were inside.
Available link for download
Friday, February 3, 2017
Misguided Angel by Melissa de la Cruz
Misguided Angel by Melissa de la Cruz
Melissa de la Cruzs New York Times best-selling Blue Bloods series never fails to thrill fans. Misguided Angel is the eagerly anticipated fifth book in the series, following The Van Alen Legacy.
After the death of her grandfather, half-blooded Schuyler fled to Europe with her human Conduit Oliver. But it was Jack, a Blue Bloods vampire, who ultimately won Schuylers heart. Now, with Jack by her side, Schuyler must face her destiny as the Blue Bloods last hope.
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A Sneak Peek on Misguided Angel ebook,
Blue Bloods Novel Series Book # 5
Schuyler Van Alen walked as quickly as she could up the polished brass spiral stairs leading to the upper deck. Jack Force was standing at the edge of the bow when she caught his eye. She nodded to him, shielding her eyes from the hot Mediterranean sun. Its done.
Good, he sent, and went back to setting the anchor. He was sunburned and shaggy, his skin a deep nut brown, his hair the color of flax. Her own dark hair was wild and unkempt from a month of salty sea air. She wore an old shirt of Jacks that had once been white and pristine and was now gray and ragged at the hems. They both displayed that laconic, relaxed air affected by those on perpetual vacation: a lazy, weathered aimlessness that belied their true desperation. A month was long enough.
They had to act now. They had to act today.
The muscles on Jacks arms tensed as he tugged on the rope to see if the anchor had found purchase on the ocean floor. No luck. The anchor heaved, so he released the line a few more feet. He raised a finger over his right shoulder, signaling to Schuyler to reverse the port engine. He let the rope go a little farther and tugged at it again, the stout white braids of the anchor line chafing his palm as he pul ed it toward him.
From her summers sailing on Nantucket, Schuyler knew that an ordinary man would have used a motor winch to set the seven-hundred-pound anchor, but of course Jack was far from ordinary. He pul ed harder--using almost al of his strength, and al eight tons of the Countesss yacht seemed to flex for a moment. This time the anchor held, wedged into the rocky bottom. Jack relaxed and dropped the rope, and Schuyler moved from the helm to help him twine it around the base of the winch. In the past month theyd each found quiet solace in these smal tasks. It gave them something to do while they plotted their escape.
For while Isabel e of Orleans had welcomed them to the safety of her home, Jack remembered that once upon a time, in another lifetime, Isabel e had been Lucifers beloved, Drusil a, sister-wife to the emperor Caligula. True, the Countess had been more than generous toward them: she had blessed them with every comfort--the boat, in particular, was ful y staffed and bountiful y stocked. Yet it was becoming clearer each day that the Countesss offer of protection was morphing from asylum to confinement. It was already November and they were virtual prisoners in her care, as they were never left alone, nor were they al owed to leave.
Schuyler and Jack were as far from finding the Gate of Promise as they had been when theyd left New York.
The Countess had given them everything except what they needed most: freedom. Schuyler did not believe that Isabel e, who had been a great friend to Lawrence and Cordelia, and was one of the most respected vampire dowagers of European society, was a Silver Blood traitor. But of course, given the recent events, anything seemed possible.
In any event, if the Countess was planning on keeping them prisoner for perpetuity, they couldnt afford to wait and find out.
Schuyler glanced shyly at Jack. They had been together a month now, but even though they were final y an official couple, everything felt so new--his touch, his voice, his companionship, the easy feel of his arm around her shoulder. She stood beside him against the rail, and he looped his arm around her neck, pul ing her closer so he could plant a quick kiss on the top of her head. She liked those kisses the most, found a deep contentment at the confident way he held her. They belonged to each other now.
Maybe this was what Al egra had meant, Schuyler thought, when she had told her to come home and stop fighting, stop fleeing from finding her own happiness. Maybe this was what her mother wanted her to understand.
Jack lowered his arm from her shoulder, and she fol owed his gaze to the smal rowboat "the boys" were lowering from the stern onto the choppy water below. They were a jol y duo, two Italians, Drago and Iggy (short for Ignazio), Venators in service to the Countess and, for al intents and purposes, Jack and Schuylers jailers. But Schuyler had come to like them almost as friends, and the thought of what she and Jack were about to do set her nerves on edge. She hoped the Venators would be spared from harm, but she and Jack would do what they had to. She marveled at his calm demeanor; she herself could barely keep stil , bouncing up and down on the bal s of her feet in anticipation.
She fol owed Jack to the edge of the platform.
Iggy had tethered the little boat to the yacht, and Drago reached forward to help Schuyler step down.
But Jack slipped ahead and brushed Drago aside so he could offer Schuyler his palm instead, ever the gentleman. She held his hand as she climbed over the rail and into the boat. Drago shrugged and steadied the boat as Iggy brought the last of the provisions onto the bow--several picnic baskets and backpacks fil ed with blankets and water.
Schuyler patted her bag, confirming that the Repository files with Lawrences notes were in their usual place.
Schuyler turned to look closely upon the rugged Italian coast for the first time. Ever since they had learned of Iggys affinity for the Cinque Terre, they had been advocating for this little day trip. The Cinque Terre was a strip of the Italian Riviera populated by a series of five medieval towns. Iggy, with his broad face and fat bel y, spoke longingly of running along the paths along the cliff edge before coming home to outdoor dinners overlooking sunsets above the bay.
She had never been to this part of Italy and did not know too much about it--but she understood how they could use Iggys affection for his hometown to their advantage. He had not been able to resist their suggestion to visit, and al owed them a day off of their floating prison. It was the perfect spot for what they had planned, as trails ended in ancient stairs that stretched upward for hundreds of feet. The paths would be abandoned this time of year--tourist season was over, as fal brought cold weather to the popular resort towns. The mountain trails would lead them far from the ship.
"You are going to love this place, Jack," Iggy said, rowing vigorously. "You too, signorina," he said. The Italians had a difficult time pronouncing Schuyler.
Jack grunted, pul ing on his oar, and Schuyler tried to affect a festive air. They were supposed to be getting ready for a picnic. Schuyler noticed Jack brooding, staring at the sea, preparing himself for the day ahead, and she swatted his arm playful y.
This was supposed to be a long-awaited respite from their time on the ship, a chance to spend a day exploring.
They were supposed to look like a happy couple with not a care in the world, not like two captives about to execute a prison break.
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Thursday, January 26, 2017
Masquerade by Melissa de la Cruz
Masquerade by Melissa de la Cruz
Preparations are under way for the ball of the century. But as any true Blue Blood knows, its the after-party that counts. And the cunning Mimi Force is getting ready to make sure her masquerade ball is the place to be for the Young, Fabulous and Fanged.
But Schuyler Van Alen has more on her mind than fancy dresses, even if her crush Jack Force, is sure to make an appearance. Shes getting closer to finding out whats been preying on the young vamps - and discovering the deadly secrets hiding under the masks. . .
Rich with glamour, attitude and vampire lore, this second instalment in the Blue Bloods saga will leave readers thirsting for more.
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A Sneak Peek on Masquerade by Melissa de la Cruz ebook,
Blue Bloods Series Book # 2
The pigeons had taken over St. Marks Square.
Hundreds of them: fat, gray, squat, and silent, pecking at the pieces of sfogliatelle and pane uva bread crumbs that careless tourists had left behind. It was noon, but the sun was hidden behind clouds, and a gloomy pall had fallen over the city. The gondolas were lined up on the docks, empty, their striped-shirted gondoliers leaning on their oars, waiting for customers who had not arrived. The waters were in low tide, the dark stain of the higher levels visible on the building facades.
Schuyler Van Alen rested her elbows on the rickety café table and put her head in her hands, so that the bottom of her chin was hidden underneath her oversize turtleneck. She was a Blue Blood vampire, the last of the Van Alens—a formerly prominent New York family whose influence and largesse had been instrumental in the founding of modern-day Manhattan. Once upon a time, the Van Alen name had been synonymous with power, privilege, and patronage. But that was a long time ago, and the family fortune had been dwindling for many years: Schuyler was more familiar with penny-pinching than shopping sprees. Her clothes—the black turtleneck that hung past her hips, cutoff leggings, an army flak jacket, and beaten-up motorcycle boots—were thrift-store castoffs.
On any other girl, the ragged ensemble might look as though it had been thrown together by a homeless vagrant, but on Schuyler it became raiment equal to royalty, and made her delicate, heart-shaped features even more striking. With her pale, ivory complexion, deep-set blue eyes, and mass of dark, blue-black hair, she was a stunning, impossibly lovely creature. Her beauty was made even more benevolent when she smiled, although there was little chance of that this morning.
"Cheer up," Oliver Hazard-Perry said, lifting a small cup of espresso to his lips. "Whatever happens, or doesnt happen, at least we had a bit of a break. And doesnt the city look gorgeous? Cmon, youve got to admit being in Venice is so much better than being stuck in Chem lab.”
Oliver had been Schuylers best friend since childhood a gangly, floppy-haired, handsome youth, with a quick grin and kind, hazel, eyes. He was her confidant and partner in crime and, as she had learned not too long ago, her human Conduit—traditionally a vampires assistant and left-hand man, a position of exalted servitude. Oliver had been instrumental in getting them from New York to Venice in a short period of time. He had been able to convince his father to let them accompany him on a business trip to Europe.
Despite Olivers cheerful words, Schuyler was glum. It was their last day in Venice and they had found nothing. Tomorrow they would fly back to New York empty-handed, their trip a complete failure.
She began ripping apart the label on her Pellegrino bottle, tearing it carefully so it unwound into a long thin strip of green paper. She just didnt want to give up so soon.
Almost two months before, Schuylers grandmother, Cordelia Van Alen, had been attacked by a Silver Blood, the mortal enemies of the Blue Blood vampires. Schuyler had learned from Cordelia that, like the Blue Bloods, Silver Bloods were fallen angels, doomed to live their eternal lives on earth. However, unlike the Blue Bloods, Silver Blood vampires had sworn allegiance to the exiled Prince of Heaven, Lucifer himself, and had refused to comply with the Code of the Vampires, a stringent rule of ethics that the Blue Bloods hoped would help bring about their eventual return to Paradise.
Cordelia had been Schuylers legal guardian. Schuyler had never known her parents: her father died before she was born, and her mother had fallen into a coma soon after giving birth to her. For most of Schuylers childhood, Cordelia had been aloof and distant, but she was the only family Schuyler had had in the world, and for better or worse, she had loved her grandmother.
"She was sure he would be here," Schuyler said, disconsolately tossing bread crumbs at the pigeons that had gathered underneath their table. It was something she had been saying ever since theyd arrived in Venice. The Silver Blood attack had left Cordelia weakened, but before her grandmother had succumbed to the passive state (Blue Blood vampires are continually reincarnated immortal beings), she had pressed on Schuyler the need to find her missing grandfather, Lawrence Van Alen, whom she believed held the key to defeating the Silver Bloods. With her last breath, Schuylers grandmother had instructed her to travel to Venice, to comb the citys crooked streets and winding canals for any sign of him.
"But weve looked everywhere. No one has ever even heard of a Lawrence Van Alen, or a Dr. John Carver," Oliver sighed, pointing out that they had made dozens of inquiries at the university, at Harrys Bar at the Cipriani, and at every hotel, villa, and pensione in between. John Carver had been a name Lawrence had taken during the Plymouth settlement.
"I know. Im beginning to think he never even existed," Schuyler replied.
"Maybe she was wrong—too weak and disoriented and confused about where to send you," Oliver suggested. "This could end up being just a wild-goose chase.”
Schuyler mulled the possibility. Perhaps Cordelia had been wrong, and maybe Charles Force, the leader of the Blue Bloods, was right after all. But the loss of her grandmother had affected her terribly, and Schuyler was nursing a fevered determination to carry out the old womans final wish.
"I cant think like that, Ollie. If I do, then Ive given up. I have to find him. I have to find my grandfather. It hurts too much to think about what Charles Force said….”
"What did he say?" Oliver asked. Schuyler had mentioned a conversation shed had with Charles before they had left, but had kept the details vague.
"He said…" Schuyler closed her eyes and remembered the tension-filled encounter.
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