"Here? Just at home?" Mimi frowned. That did not sound special at all.
Up front, Edmund Oelrich was shuffling papers at the podium and greeting the well-preserved women who made up the senior committee.
"Saint John the Divine is a fabulous Gothic cathedral. You could wear a train longer than Princess Di's. And we could get the Boys Choir of Harlem. It would be properly angelic. "
Mimi considered the suggestion. It was indeed a beautiful church, she told Lizbet, and they could have the reception at the Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum afterward. Charles was a museum trustee and had been particularly generous that year. She waved to Jack, who had just come in the door. Her brother joined her and gave a quick smile.
"Who are you talking to?" he mouthed.
"So, we're on the same page here? Saint John's? And then the Met?" Lizbet was asking. "And you did say you wanted to invite the whole Four Hundred, yes?"
"Done and done!" Mimi said with satisfaction. She put away her phone and smiled at her brother. Now that she knew his secret, she noticed that he looked everywhere in the room except toward the corner where Schuyler was sitting.
Schuyler's sidekick, that equally annoying human Oliver, arrived soon after. That was another travesty - letting humans into their exclusive meetings. Charles would never have allowed it during his tenure. But Lawrence had made it clear he expected the Conduits to undergo their own training as well, and what better way to learn about their calling than to join the Committee.
Mimi sensed Jack tense by her side. Oliver had kissed Schuyler on the cheek. That was interesting. She used her vampire sense to zero in on Oliver's neck. She spotted the telltale bite marks immediately. They were undetectable to the human eye, but glaring to the vampire sight. So. The little half-blood had made her best friend her familiar.
Well.
It gave Mimi an idea. If Schuyler wasn't going to give up her pathetic little liaison with Jack, then maybe she could be forced to.
Oliver could prove useful.
Mimi would have to act fast. She'd told Lizbet she wanted her bonding to take place in three months.
Chapter Nineteen
Unlike Mimi, Bliss enjoyed the Committee's new agenda. She liked discovering and using her vampire abilities, instead of merely memorizing boring facts about their history, or stuffing envelopes and critiquing caterers for extravagant events that she didn't look forward to attending. Lessons got her blood pumping. She was thrilled to find herself adept at some of the more difficult tasks, like the mutatio, for instance.
The senior committee had asked the younger members to arrange themselves into groups of two or three while they practiced the delicate art of metamorphosis.
"All vampires should be able to change into smoke, or air, or fog; although most of us can transform into fire and water as well. As you might be aware, The Conspiracy saw to it that the false legends about our people perpetuated in Red Blood history are based on a modicum of truth. " Dorothea Rockefeller, their guest lecturer, chuckled as she said this. The Conspiracy was a great source of amusement to the Committee.
"They also thought it might be suitable if the humans were led to believe that our kind can only transform into bats or rats or other creatures of the night. That way the Red Bloods would be lulled into a false sense of security during daylight hours. And while it is true that those of us who have the ability to shape-shift may choose these rather repulsive physical shapes, most of us do not. In fact, our lady Gabrielle chose a dove as her mutatus. If you are one of the few who can transform at will, you will find a shape that suits your abilities. Do not be surprised when it is one that you did not expect. "
Bliss was one of the lucky few. She found she could switch from girl to smoke and back again, and then tried out other forms - a white horse, a black crow, a spider monkey - before settling into the shape of a golden lioness.
But Schuyler simply stood in the middle of the room, getting more and more frustrated with each failed attempt. "Maybe it's because I'm half human," she sighed when yet another try at forcing her matter to change into a different configuration resulted in her simply falling onto the floor, still herself.
"Hey, what's wrong with being human?" Oliver asked, watching with fascination as Mimi Force transformed herself into a phoenix, a column of fire, and a red serpent in the space of three seconds. "Wow - she's good. "
"Show-off," Bliss hissed. "Don't worry about her. And stop laughing, Ollie. You're distracting Schuyler!" Bliss tried not to be too smug about her success, but it was satisfying to know that Schuyler wasn't great at everything.
"Look, here's what you do. You're supposed to visualize your goal. You have to be the fog. Think like fog. Let your mind go blank. Can you feel it - a wispiness - it starts in the edge of your skin, and then . . . "
Schuyler obediently closed her eyes. "Okay, I'm thinking fog. Golden Gate. San Francisco. Little cat feet. I don't know. . . it's not happening. "
"Sshhhh," Bliss admonished. She could already feel the transformation begin, could feel all her senses shift, could feel her very being disappear into a soft gray cloud. She was having fun imagining how she could use this new talent, when she had another vision. It hit her with a bang. The starkness of the image was like a punch in the gut.
Dylan.
If he'd looked merely disheveled before, he was worse now. His clothing was in tatters, his shirt ripped to shreds, his jeans torn, and his hair wild. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks. He was standing in front of the school gates, shaking the bars and raving like a madman.
"What's wrong?" Schuyler asked immediately when Bliss stumbled.
"Dylan. He's here. "
That was all she needed to say.
The three of them ran out of the Committee meeting, ignoring the curious faces of the other members, leaving the library, and running down the stairs. Their vampire speed meant Schuyler and Bliss arrived at the gates ahead of Oliver, who was gasping as he tried to keep up with them.
Duchesne was located on a quiet corner of Ninety-sixth Street, on Prep School Row. Since it was mid-afternoon, the streets were practically deserted, save for a nanny or two pushing a stroller toward the park.
The boy who stood in the middle of the sidewalk violently shaking the gates looked like a prophet from a bygone age, a throwback to a time of preachers and pontificators, when ragged men warned about the End Of The World. There was almost no sign of the teenage boy who had wanted to grow up to play guitar like Jimi Hendrix and had been the instigator of countless pranks.
"ABOMINATION!" he thundered when he saw them.
"It's my fault," Bliss cried, already close to tears at the sight of Dylan. "I know I promised I was going to tell the Conclave about him, but I couldn't. And I didn't check up on him . . . I left him and I ignored him . . . I wanted him to just go away. It's all my fault. "
"No, it's mine," Schuyler said. "I was going to tell Lawrence, but - "
"It's all our fault," Oliver said firmly. "We should have done something about him, but we didn't. Look, we've got to get him out of here. People are going to start asking questions," he said as an elderly woman walking a poodle crossed the street and shot a puzzled look in their direction. "We don't want the police involved. "
Dylan suddenly lunged toward them, clawing through the bars and gargling in a language they didn't understand.
Schuyler just barely ducked his reach. "We've got to get to him before he uses the glom on us again. "
Bliss immediately transformed into the golden lioness. She was a sight to behold - a stalking, ruthless creature. She leaped over the gate and padded up to Dylan, who raged at her. "Devil spawn! TRAITOR!" he hissed.
Bliss cornered him against the iron bars and bared her teeth. She reared back on her hind legs and shoved him with her giant golden paws. Dylan cringed and whimpered, cowering with his hands over his head.
"Sh
e's got him!" Oliver yelled, motioning to Schuyler to move toward Bliss's right flank.
Schuyler ran to Bliss's side. She looked Dylan in the eyes. Saw the rage, anger, and confusion there. She wavered. This was no monster. This was a wounded animal.
But Oliver had no qualms. "SCHUYLER! DO IT! NOW!"
"Dormi!" she ordered, and waved her hand in front of Dylan's face.
Dylan slumped and fell to the ground. Bliss turned back into herself and knelt by his side.
"He'll sleep until he is commanded to wake up," Schuyler told them.
Oliver knelt beside Bliss, and they were able to make a makeshift straitjacket from Dylan's sweater. The lines on his face slowly smoothed away. Asleep, he looked docile and peaceful.
"We've got to turn him over to the Committee; this has gone on long enough," Oliver said. "I know you don't want to, Bliss, but it's best for him. Maybe they can help him. "
"They don't help Silver Bloods - they destroy them. You know that," Bliss said bitterly.
"But maybe. . . "
"I'll take him to my father," Bliss decided. "I might be able to plead his case with Forsyth. Get him to show Dylan some mercy because he's my friend. He'll know what to do. "
Schuyler nodded. Forsyth should be able to deal with Dylan. Meanwhile, the Llewellyns' Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. They bundled Dylan into the backseat and strapped him in next to Bliss.
"He'll be okay," Schuyler assured.
"Yeah," Bliss said, even though she knew that none of them believed it anymore. The car pulled away, and she raised her hand in good-bye. Oliver returned the wave, while Schuyler simply looked stricken. Finally the car turned the corner and she couldn't see them anymore.
When Bliss arrived at Penthouse des Reves, her family's extravagant triplex apartment on the top of one of the most exclusive buildings on Park Avenue, BobiAnne was consulting with her astrologer in the "casual" sitting room. Bliss's stepmother was a big-haired Texan socialite who was dripping in diamonds even in the early afternoon. Bliss's half sister, Jordan, was doing homework on a nearby coffee table. The two of them looked up in surprise at Bliss's entry.
"What on earth?" BobiAnne cried, leaping from her chair at the sight of her stepdaughter and the bound, unconscious boy.
"It's Dylan," Bliss said, as if that would explain everything. She was frightfully calm as she addressed her family. She had no idea how they would react at the sight of him, especially since he was so dirty. BobiAnne had a heart palpitation when someone forgot to use a coaster or left sweaty handprints on the Japanese wallpaper.
"The boy who disappeared," Jordan whispered, her eyes round and frightened.
"Yes. There's something wrong with him. He's. . . not quite all there. I have to tell Dad. " Bliss confessed to everything - Dylan's unexpected return, how she'd hid him in the Chelsea Hotel - and gave them the Cliff's Notes version of his previous attacks. "But we're all fine," she assured. "Don't worry about me. Help him," she said, gently setting Dylan down on the nearest chaise longue.
"You did the right thing," BobiAnne said, pressing Bliss to her chest and smothering her with her perfume. "He'll be safe here with us. "
Chapter Twenty
Spring in New York was a mirage. The city turned from brutal winter to brutal summer with barely a gap in between. After the winter snows melted, there would be a few days of rain, and then the sun would shine mercilessly, turning the city into one big sauna. Like her fellow residents, Schuyler prized what little spring they had. As she walked across Ninety-sixth Street with Bliss after school, she smiled when she noticed the first fragile buds of the season. However much her life had changed, she could still count on the tulips to blossom in Central Park.
She picked off a tiny yellow flower from a nearby bush and tucked it in her hair. Duchesne was starting to unwind in its last few months before summer vacation. The seniors had all received their college acceptances, and teachers held half their classes in the outdoor courtyards.
Bliss told her that Dylan was being taken care of - and not in a bad way. Forsyth had been more than sympathetic to Dylan's situation. The senator had told her there might still be hope for him, even if he had been corrupted, since it took a long time for a Blue Blood to turn into a Silver Blood. There might still be time to halt the process. Forsyth had put him in a place where he could be observed and rehabilitated.
"Basically, he's in rehab," Bliss explained as they walked past the familiar landmarks of the neighborhood, dodging a group of scowling Nightingale-Bamford girls in their blue-and-white uniforms. "You know how Charlie Bank and Honor Leslie had to go to Transitions last year? And everyone thought it was because of drugs?" Bliss asked, naming two Duchesne students who had disappeared from school for months at a time.
"Uh-huh. " Schuyler nodded.
"Well, they weren't druggies. Their transformations were freaking them out. They were having delusions, they couldn't separate the past from the present. They were attacking humans, violating the Code. So they were sent away to deal with it. Rehab's a good cover, don't you think? The humans think they're there to dry out, which I guess is true in a way. "
It always amazed Schuyler how the vampires found a way to disguise their real lives by integrating into regular human society, but Bliss explained it was actually the other way around. "Apparently, the Mayo Clinic, Hazelden, and all those famous rehab centers were founded by Blue Bloods. They had to start catering to human problems when it became fashionable to go. You think he'll be okay?" Bliss asked.
Schuyler didn't want to give Bliss any false hope, but she thought it would be cruel to say otherwise. "I'm sure they'll try their best. "
Bliss sighed. "Yeah. "
They made plans to go visit Dylan in a few days, and Schuyler said good-bye at Eighty-sixth to catch the Fifth Avenue bus.
All week she had forced thoughts of Mimi's warning from her mind. Was Mimi telling the truth? Was she putting Jack in danger? She had wanted to ask Lawrence about it, but she had been too ashamed. What had her grandfather told her? You must have noticed he is drawn to you. Thank goodness you are not drawn to him. It would spell disaster to both of you.
How could she tell her grandfather that he was wrong. That she did return Jack Force's affections. That she was weak and pathetic when Lawrence believed she was so strong. She could not. She told herself she couldn't bother him with such a silly thing as her love life anyway, while he was out there dealing with a problem as grave and serious as the possible destruction of the very essence of the Blue Bloods' existence. She was starting to worry about Lawrence. There hadn't been a message from him in days.
Her grandfather had been wary of using the normal means of communication, and once he'd arrived in Rio had relied exclusively on telepathy to get in touch and let her know everything was okay. So far he'd only complained about the weather (steamy) and the food (too spicy). He hadn't addressed the problem of Corcovado, and Schuyler didn't know if that was good or bad.
There had been no opportunity to ask Jack about his sister's dire predictions either. They had been unable to meet since the night of Dylan's attack. Mimi, Schuyler knew, was taking up all of his free time.
When she arrived at the town house, Jack was in the living room, speaking to his father. Charles was in his bathrobe. The former leader of the Blue Bloods now spent his days in his study. He didn't even look as if he had showered that day. Schuyler felt pity and annoyance. He had caused her so much heartache. She'd had to avoid everyone she loved because of him. She'd believed his threats, but lately it looked as though Charles was only a threat to himself. But then she realized if Charles had not dragged her to his home, maybe she and Jack would never have had the chance to find out just how much they truly liked each other.
"Hey. " Jack smiled. "You're back early. "
"I made the bus this time," she said, setting her school things down on a nearby table. She still didn't feel comforta
ble in their house, but on the other hand, she was tired of tiptoeing around the place as if she didn't belong there.
"Hello, Schuyler," Charles grunted.
"Charles," she said coldly.
The former Regis tightened the belt on his robe and shuffled off to his den, leaving the two of them alone.
"Is she here?" Schuyler asked, looking around the opulent space that was the Forces' living room. Decorated in lush, French-Victorian style, the room was closely packed with rare antiques, jaw-droppingly familiar museum-quality art, and sumptuous fabrics. Her senses told her that Mimi was not around the premises. But who knew.
"No. She's at some sort of tasting," he replied.
Schuyler sat next to him on a gilded velvet "kissing chair" dating to the sixteenth-century and so named because a couple had to sit side-by-side and facing each other. "Jack. " She looked at his face. The face she loved so much. "I want to ask you something. "
"Shoot," Jack said, stretching his legs out in front of him and loping his long arm over the edge of the chair so that his fingers rested lightly on her shoulders. She tingled at his slightest touch.
"Is it true that the bond between you and - "
"I don't want to talk about the bond," Jack said, cutting her off and withdrawing his arm. His face turned cold, and for a moment she saw a flash of his true nature, saw the dark angel that he was. The angel who had wrought destruction in Paradise, the one who would sound the trumpet to the Apocalypse when it came. His was the face of Abbadon, the enforcer, the hammer blow, the most dangerous soldier in the army of the Almighty.
"But I want to know - "
"Shh. " Jack turned to her and pressed a hand on her cheek. "Let's not. . . "
"But Mimi. . . " Just as Schuyler said her name, she sensed a presence at the front doorway. Mimi was home, or just about to be. Quicker than a blink, or at maximum vampire speed, Schuyler left the living room and ran to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
When Mimi entered mere seconds later, carrying several shopping bags with her, she found Jack reading a book by himself.
Schuyler and Jack weren't alone again that evening. The entire family gathered for their mandatory dinner a few hours later. Once a week, Trinity Burden, their mother, required that the children be home to join their parents for dinner. Schuyler had once dreamed of a nuclear family, of a life that included a loving mother, an attentive father, and siblings who would tease each other over the meat and potatoes.