The Van Alen Legacy Read Online Free PDF

you not? After all, you chose to live with your mother’s estranged brother

rather than with Lawrence.”
    “I didn’t choose anything! We

were fighting the adoption. I did not want to live with Charles Force and his family?”
    “So you say.”
    “Why on earth would I want to

kill my grandfather?” she practically shouted. This was insane. A kangaroo court, a

charade, a travesty. There was no justice to be served here.
    “Perhaps you did not mean to

kill him. Perhaps, as you told us earlier, it was an accident.”
    The Inquisitor smiled, looking

like a shark. Schuyler slumped in her seat, defeated. For whatever reasons, the Inquisitor did

not believe her story, and it was clear the remaining members of the Conclave would not either.

The hidden Silver Blood among their ranks had been discovered, Nan Cutler had perished in the

Almeida fire. The Conclave believed that, at least. They had accepted it. Forsyth Llewellyn had

been the victim of Warden Cutler’s betrayal and had borne witness.
    But the ruling body did not

want to accept the reality of Leviathan’s return. It was one thing to accept the testimony of a

fellow Elder, and another thing to take the word of a half-blood. They would rather believe

Schuyler had deliberately killed Lawrence than that a demon stalked the earth once

more.
    There were no other witnesses

to back her up except for Oliver, and the testimony of human Conduits was inadmissible in a

Committee investigation. Humans simply didn’t count, when it came down to it. So the night before

the Conclave cast judgment and decided what to do with her, she and Oliver fled the

country.

SEVEN

Schuyler

    It was ten o’clock in the

evening, and the first guests were arriving at the landing. As befitting the Oriental theme, a

platoon of authentic Chinese junks rented for the party made a stately procession up the river,

banners flying the crests of the Great Houses of Europe. Hapsburg. Bourbon. Savoy.

Liechtenstein. Saxe-Coburg.
    Blue Bloods that had

remained in the Old Country in favor of seeking a new home across the ocean. Schuyler

stood sentry with the army of servers lined up against the stone wall, just another faceless

drone, or so she hoped. Each of them carried a different libation: there were pink cosmopolitans

in martini glasses, goblets of the finest Burgundy and Bordeaux from the hostess’s vineyards in Montrachet , sparkling water with lemon slices for teetotalers. She carried a heavy

tray of champagne flutes, bubbles clustered at the lip, golden and bright.
    She could hear the crack-thump

of the wind whipping against the multiple sails. Some were decorated as dragon boats, complete

with gold-plated scales and luminescent emerald eyes at the bow. Some were kitted out as warships

with brightly colored “cannons” poking out of the stern. A grand imperial parade, at once

indulgent and beautiful. She noticed something else as well, the crests on the banners

were moving, changing with the light, transforming in a fluid dance of form and color.
    “Do you see that?” She turned

to the girl standing next to her.
    “See what? A bunch of rich

people in some stupid boats?” the waitress cracked, looking at her dubiously. Only then did

Schuyler realize that the flashing symbols were visible only to those with the vampire sight.

They were Blue Blood sigils, from the Sacred Language.
    She had almost given herself

away, but thankfully no one had noticed. Her lip quivered, and she could feel her body tense as

the guests walked down the dock and approached the waiters. What if someone recognized her? What

if someone from the New York Coven were at the party? What then? It was madness to think she and

Oliver could get away with this. There were sure to be Venators here, weren’t there?
    If any of the Blue Bloods

recognized her before she was able to make her case to the countess, she wouldn’t have a chance

in the