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relief,

cut like the edge of a blade. The bright sari brought color to her cheeks, and the dazzling

gemstones glittered in the light. She sucked in her stomach even though her hip bones were

prominent above the dress’s low- waisted harem pants.
    She removed a tiny cosmetic

bag from the same backpack and began to apply some makeup. She dropped her powdered compact to

the floor, and only then realized her hands were shaking again.
    She wasn’t ready for this.

Whenever she contemplated what she was about to do, what she was about to ask, she couldn’t

breathe. What if the countess turned her away? She couldn’t run forever, could she? If the

countess refused them an audience, they had nowhere else to go. More than anything, Schuyler

wanted to go home. She wanted to be in the same place her grandparents had lived. Back in

her small bedroom with the peeling paint and the clanging heater.
    She had already missed an

entire year of school. In a month, Duchesne would be back in session. She wanted to go back to

that life, even though she knew it was lost to her. Even if the European Conclave gave her

shelter, it did not mean she would be able to return to New York.
    Outside the band was playing

‘thriller,’ Michael Jackson to a bhangra beat, cymbals crashing. She bundled her

waiter’s uniform into the bag and stuffed it in a trash can, then left the powder room, slipping

past the velvet rope.
    “Champagne?” a server offered.

Thankfully, the waitress didn’t recognize Schuyler as a fellow serf on the bus.
    “No, thank you,” Schuyler

demurred.
    She walked to bottom of the

staircase, elaborately costumed as an Indian princess. She held her head high even as her throat

constricted with fear. She was ready for whatever the night would bring, and she hoped she

wouldn’t have to wait too long.

EIGHT

Mimi

    “The Silver Bloods are much more clever than we give them credit for,” Kingsley said, when they arrived at yet

another airport. They had left the U.S. the night before. Now they were back where it had all

started, before that wild-goose chase had sent them halfway around the world. Back in

Rio.
    “You think?” Mimi replied, not

even trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “You should know. You are one.”
    She put on her oversize

sunglasses and rescued her battered Valextra roller from the luggage carousel. She

was irritated that Kingsley made them fly economy everywhere. She was used to having her bags

wrapped and secured in plastic whenever she traveled internationally. Her poor little valise was

not surviving the rough treatment from the baggage handlers. She spotted yet another muddy

footprint on its smooth leather surface.
    “It’s not funny,” Kingsley

said as he took her bag and tossed it into the baggage cart, almost as if he were dunking a

basketball and not lifting a seventy-pound weight. (Mimi never traveled light. A girl needed

choices.)
    “I’m not laughing,” Mimi

snapped. “I just don’t know how we could’ve missed it the first time.”
    “Just because we’re Venators

doesn’t mean we don’t make mistakes. And it’s one thing to be incompetent, but it’s another thing

to be deceived. We weren’t looking for it, that’s why we missed it.”
    They walked out of the

terminal and into the mild, tropical afternoon. Thank goodness for the upside-down weather here.

Mimi had braced herself for blistering heat, and discovering it was winter in South America was a

pleasant surprise.
    The Lennox boys had hailed

their own cab to the hotel, which meant she and Kingsley were stuck with each other again. The

two brothers had been under Kingsley’s command for centuries, but kept to themselves. They

preferred their own company and often only spoke when they were spoken to, in monosyllabic

grunts. She and Kingsley had had no choice but to talk to each other or die of

boredom.
    Kingsley whistled for a cab,