The Van Alen Legacy by Melissa de La Cruz Read Free Book Online

told the owners wouldn’t be here for the showing,” the lady in the business suit said with a

fake smile. “But since you’re here, do you know if your father’s contractor is still available to

complete the renovation?”
    Then it all went black and the

image disappeared again, even though Bliss had been able to hear the question. Bobi Anne had been

in the midst of renovating before she died. The Hamptons house was supposed to be completed by

now, but when they returned from South America, Forsyth had ordered the construction ceased. The

entire back half of the house was missing. In its place was a big hole in the ground covered in

plaster dust, sawdust, and plastic.
    The senator had returned to

New York only to discover that he had been cleaned out in the latest financial upheaval. Some

kind of Ponzi scheme, Bliss understood; a total scam. She wasn’t sure, except that

whatever it was, it had been enough to get Forsyth out of Conclave duties for a while. She

couldn’t quite tell what had happened, since it was around this time that the Visitor began to

take over completely; but she had a feeling they were bankrupt.
    Forsyth was trying to get a

loan from the Committee to tide them over, but it would not be enough. His salary as a U.S.

senator was trifling. The Llewellyns , like many Blue Blood families, lived on

investment returns.
    And apparently those

investments were gone.
    Which was probably the

reason why there was a real estate agent at the house with her clients. Forsyth was

selling the house. The thought didn’t make Bliss very sad. They didn’t spend so much time in the

Hamptons that she would miss it. She had been much more despondent when they had left their home

in Texas. She still missed that house sometimes: the way her two-level attic bedroom rested under

the leaves of an old willow tree, afternoons spent reading on the porch swing, the old antique

mirrors in the bathrooms that made everyone look a little bit mysterious and faerie.
    The Visitor’s been gone

awhile, she thought, alone in the darkness. How long, she wasn’t certain. It was hard to judge

time when you weren’t in the physical world anymore.
    Bliss wasn’t sure, but she

thought that there was something different about the solitude. That she might be truly alone this time, and not just cast out of her body while the Visitor did god knows what.

Usually she sensed his presence, but there had been times in the past when she was quite

convinced she was completely alone. That it was only her inside her body, and the other had

gone.
    Could it be? Was she truly

alone? Bliss felt an excitement rising in her chest.
    There was nothing. The Visitor

was gone, she could feel it. She was sure. She knew what she had to do. But she didn’t know if

she still could. Open the blinds. Open your eyes. Open them! Open! But where were

they?
    Disembodied. She

truly understood the meaning of the word. It was like floating without an anchor. She had to get

grounded again, to feel her way around until, yes’there it is, a crack of light,

maybe she just imagined it?, but if she could just force it open – there!, just a little more . .

.
    Bliss opened her eyes slowly.

She’d done it! She looked around. It was amazing to be able to see the world on her terms, and

not how the Visitor saw it, through his hate-colored glasses. She was in the library.
    A small cozy nook surrounded

by walls of books. Her stepmother’s decorator had insisted that all the “good homes” had one.

Bobi Anne read magazines. Forsyth liked to stay in his den with his large-screen television. The

library had become the sisters’ territory.
    Bliss remembered how she and

Jordan would sit at the window seat, looking out at the pool and the ocean while they read. Bliss

saw an old summer reading stack on a shelf next to the Victorian rolltop desk. The Brothers Karamazov. The Grapes of Wrath.