"No kidding," Bliss replied. Of course he was a vampire—she knew that the minute she laid eyes on him. She'd never met another vampire who flaunted his Blue Blood status so publicly. It was a surprise he hadn't bared his fangs in front of the whole school.
"I met him at the Four Hundred Ball," Mimi said. "His family just moved here from London, but he grew up everywhere: Hong Kong, New York, Capetown. They're like, related to royalty or something. He has some sort of title but he doesn't use it.”
"Should we curtsy?" Bliss joked.
Mimi frowned. "It's not a joke. They're like, major. Landed estates, advisers to the Queen, the whole shebang.”
Bliss refrained from rolling her eyes. Sometimes Mimi was so stubborn about her snobbery, it squeezed all the fun out of life.
They exited the bathroom and bumped into the object of their discussion. Kingsley was walking out of the boys’ locker room, carrying a thick, leather-bound book. He looked rakish and wickedly charming. His eyes danced when he saw them.
"Ladies," he said, bowing.
Mimi smirked. "We were just talking about you.”
"All good things, I hope," he said, looking directly at Bliss.
"This is my friend Bliss. Her dad's a senator," Mimi said, elbowing Bliss roughly.
"I know," Kingsley said, his smile deepening. Bliss tried hard to keep her composure.
When he looked at her that way, it felt as if she was standing there with no clothes on.
The second bell rang, which meant they had five minutes to get to their next class.
"Gotta go. Korgan's senile but he can be an asshole," Mimi said, heading for the stairs.
"Ah, just make him shut up," Kingsley said. "Don't you know how to do that yet?”
"What are you talking about?" Bliss asked.
Mimi laughed nervously. "He's talking about using the glom on teachers. You know, mind control. Kingsley, you joker, you know we're not supposed to do that. It's against the Code. If the Wardens ever found out…”
Blue Blood teens were expressly forbidden from using their powers or showing off their superhuman strengths until they had reached adulthood. And even then, the Code of the Vampires was very clear on that policy: humans were not to be toyed with. They were to be respected. The Blue Bloods were supposed to bring peace and beauty and light to the world, not use their superior powers to dominate and rule.
"Wardens Shmardens," Kingsley joked with a dismissive wave. "They never know what's going on. Or do you still believe they can read your mind?" he teased.
"You're funny. We'll talk later," Mimi said, heading out.
"I should go too," Bliss said nervously.
"Wait.”
Bliss raised her eyebrows.
"You've been avoiding me," Kingsley said simply. It was not an accusation, but a statement of fact. He shifted the book he was carrying to his other hip. Bliss glanced at it quickly. It didn't look like a textbook. It looked similar to one of those old reference books from the Repository that Oliver had used in their research on the Croatan.
"What are you talking about? I just met you.”
"Have you forgotten already?" Kingsley asked.
"Forgotten what?”
Kingsley sized Bliss up and down, from her new Chloe ballerina flats to her highlighted hair. "I liked the green gown. And the necklace, of course. A perfect touch. But I think I liked you better wet and soaking. Helpless.”
"You were the boy at the park," Bliss gasped. The boy who had rescued her had been Kingsley, not Dylan. Kingsley? How? Which meant, she thought with an ache in her heart, that Dylan was truly dead?
"You made a very pretty Lady of the Lake," Kingsley said.
Bliss's mind raced. So that meant she had danced with Kingsley at the after-party as well.
He was the boy in the Pierrot mask.
"What happened to Dylan?" Bliss whispered, a dread creeping into her heart. She had been so sure Dylan was alive. But if he hadn't been the one who had rescued her in the lake, or who had danced with her at the party…then she had to face it. She was holding on to a dream.
He was gone forever, and he wasn't coming back.
"Who's Dylan?”
"It doesn't matter," Bliss said, as she tried to process this new reality and absorb the information. "What did you mean, then, the night of the party, when you said you hadn't been gone for long. Do we—do we know each other?" she asked.
Kingsley looked serious for once. "Ah. I am sorry. You lot are a bit delayed here, yes?
You do not recognize me yet. I truly am sorry. I had thought you knew me when we were dancing. But I was mistaken.”
"Who are you?" Bliss asked.
Kingsley put his mouth to Bliss's ear and whispered softly, "I am the same as you.”
The final bell rang. Kingsley wagged his eyebrows and grinned. "I'll see you around, Bliss.”
Bliss slumped against the wall, her knees shaking, her heart galloping in her chest. He had stood so close to her, she could still feel his breath on her cheek. Who was he really? What was he talking about? And would she ever discover what had truly happened to Dylan?
TWENTY
The minute Schuyler walked down to breakfast on Friday morning, she noticed something different about the living room—sunlight. The room was bright with sun, drowned in sun.
The canvas covers on the furniture were removed, and the ray of sunshine through the windows was so strong it was blinding.
Lawrence Van Alen stood in the middle of the room, examining an old portrait that hung over the fireplace. There were old-fashioned steamer trunks stacked in the hallway, along with a large, battered Louis Vuitton footlocker.
Hattie and Julius stood around him, clasping their hands. Hattie saw Schuyler first. "Miss Schuyler! I couldn't stop him—he had a key. He said he owned this house, and he began to open the curtains and demanded we remove the drop cloths. He said he's your grandfather. But Mrs.
Cordelia was a widow since I've known her.”
"It's all right, Hattie. It's fine. Julius, I'll handle this," Schuyler said, soothing the staff.
The maid and chauffeur looked doubtfully at the interloper, but they heeded Schuyler's words and excused themselves from the room.
"What are you doing here?" Schuyler demanded. "I thought you were keeping out of it."
She tried to feel anger, but all she felt was elation. Her grandfather! Had he changed his mind?
"Isn't it obvious?" Lawrence asked. "I've returned. Your words wounded me deeply, Schuyler. I could not live with myself knowing how cowardly I had acted. Forgive me, it has been a long time since Cordelia and I had made the pact. I never expected anyone would come looking for me.”
He walked over to the picture window overlooking the frozen Hudson River. Schuyler had forgotten that their living room had such a marvelous view. Cordelia had kept the curtains drawn for years.
"I could not let you go back to your old life, alone. I have been in exile long enough. It is time for New York to remember the power and the glory of the Van Alen name. And I have come to raise you. You are, after all, my granddaughter.”
In answer, Schuyler buried herself in her grandfather's arms and hugged him tight. "Cordelia was right about you. I knew she would be.”
But before she could say anything more, the doorbell chimed loudly several times, as if someone were pressing it in a highly agitated manner.
Schuyler looked at her grandfather. "Are you expecting someone?”
"Not at the moment. Anderson is joining me in a week, after he has closed up my homes in Venice." He looked grave. "It appears my return to the city was not as secret as I had hoped.”
Hattie moved to answer the door, but Lawrence waved her away. "I'll handle this," he said as he opened the door. Charles Force and several Wardens from The Committee stood on the doorstep, looking grim and determined.
"Ah, Lawrence." Charles Force smiled thinly "You have honored us with your presence once again.”
"Charles." Lawrence
nodded.
"May we come in?”
"By all means," Lawrence said graciously. "Schuyler, I believe you know everybody.
Charles, Priscilla, Forsyth, Edmund, this is my granddaughter, Schuyler.”
"Yeah, um. Hi," Schuyler said, wondering why her grandfather was acting as if the Wardens had simply dropped in for a friendly visit.
They ignored Schuyler.
"Lawrence, I'm sorry about this," Priscilla DuPont said in her gentle, mellifluous voice. "I was overruled.”
"It's quite all right, my dear. I must say, it delights me to see you so well. It has been a long time since Newport."
"Too long," Priscilla agreed.
"Enough of this," Charles interrupted irritably.
"Lawrence, I do not recall your exile being revoked. You must appear before the Conclave to formally testify. If you will come with us, please.”
"What's happening?" Schuyler cried, as two Wardens took a hold of Lawrence's arms on either side. "Where are they taking you?”
"Do not fear, granddaughter," Lawrence said. "If I do not have a choice, I shall go willingly. Charles, you will find no contest from me. Schuyler, I should be back soon.”
Charles Force snorted. "We shall see about that.”
Schuyler watched as they led her grandfather out the door and inside one of the black cars in front of the building. She felt like crying. Just when she thought help had finally arrived, it was taken away as quickly as it had come.
"Has he gone?" Hattie asked, storming in from the kitchen. "Thank the Lord.”
"He'll be back," Schuyler said. She walked over to the portrait Lawrence had been studying. It was a painting of a wedding, hidden underneath an acid-free cloth for years, dating from the early eighteenth century. There was Cordelia in her wedding dress, looking comely and prim.
The man standing beside her, wearing a crisp morning suit and ascot, had the unmistakable, hawkish features of a young Lawrence Van Alen.
New York Herald Archives FEBRUARY 10, 1872 MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT INVITATIONS HAVE BEEN ISSUED for the marriage of Miss Caroline Vanderbilt, daughter of Admiral and Mrs. Vanderbilt, and Alfred, Lord Burlington, on Thursday evening, February 29, at six o'clock, at the home of the bride elect's parents, 800 Fifth Avenue. The Reverend Mr. Cushing of this city will officiate. Miss Vanderbilt will be attended by her younger sister, Miss Ava Vanderbilt, and the Marquis of Essex will act as best man. There will be a reception after the ceremony. The bride's family is prominent in society, and among the eight-hundred invited guests will be the governor of New York and the mayor of this city. Lord Burlington is an exchange broker, doing business in London and New York, and is the eldest son of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. The bride and groom will then leave for an extended tour of the Indian subcontinent.
TWENTY-ONE
The boy stood precariously on the railing of the balcony off the third-floor library. When the weather was warm, the balcony was nicknamed "Club Duschene" since students routinely took their lunches there, tanning, rolling up jeans into shorts, girls unbuttoning their blouses as low as they dared, and boys going as far as to take off their shirts.
But it was the middle of January, and the windows that led out to the balcony were usually locked. Not today. Today, someone had opened the window, letting an arctic blast inside the library, and that someone was now outside, balancing on a slim, four-inch iron rail.
Jack was on his way back from the music building when he came upon a lively crowd gathered in the cortile, the courtyard behind the main school. He saw Schuyler slip through the side entrance, her face lined with concern as she spoke to her friend Oliver, the Red Blood.
He tore his eyes away from her, wishing he were the one she would turn to for comfort, and looked up to where several people were pointing, and noticed the boy. He was a freshman, a Red Blood, and he stood on the railing with a blank, dazed look on his face.
“Jump!" Soos Kemble screeched, collapsing in giggles. "What does he think he's doing?"
another girl asked, horrified and titillated at the same time.
Jack noticed that the crowd was amused by the situation. Half of them were eagerly, if unconsciously, rooting for the boy to fall. Classes would be canceled for the rest of the day for sure.
"C'mon! Get it over with! I have a Pre-calc quiz I don't feel like taking this afternoon!"
someone called.
In one corner, hidden behind a hedge that surrounded a stone bench, Jack's supersensitive hearing picked up the sound of Kingsley Martin, the new boy, laughing with Mimi.
"Make him do a pirouette," Mimi said.
Kingsley waved his hand, and the boy on the ledge executed a ballerina turn. The crowd gasped. But the boy landed on his feet. He looked shocked at what had just happened, almost as if he had no control….
No control…
Jack glanced sharply at Kingsley. He knew in an instant what was happening. Kingsley was using the glom to control the boy's mind, as a puppet master would pull the strings.
At Committee meetings, they had been told there would be strict punishments for using their powers on the Red Bloods without provocation. Jack felt a deep rage rise within him. The stupid, arrogant fool. Kingsley was going to put them all in danger.
"Release him!" Jack commanded, holding up a palm, his eyes shooting daggers at Kingsley.
The crowd turned to see who was causing the scene.
"Aw, we were just having a bit of fun, mate," Kingsley said, and with another flick of his wrist, the boy stopped turning.
The boy screamed to find himself alone on top of the balcony. He wobbled; his left foot slipped off the edge….
"Martin! Bring him down! NOW!”
"If you insist," Kingsley said, looking bored already. The boy regained his balance and safely stepped off the railing onto the terrace.
"Modo caecus," Jack whispered, sending a blinding spell over any of the humans who had congregated, to make them forget what they had seen.
"That was foolish and dangerous, not to mention cruel and petty," Jack said, confronting Kingsley. He had never felt so angry in his life. And to see Mimi standing there next to him was even worse. Was he actually jealous? Or was he just angry and disappointed to find his sister engaging in such low behavior?
"Stop being a spoilsport, Force," Kingsley said. "No harm done, eh?”
"Yeah, Jack, get off it," Mimi said. "It's just a frosh. Nothing would have happened.”
"That's not the point, Mimi," Jack said. "The Wardens will hear of this.”
"Oh, the Wardens." Kingsley laughed. "Listen, why don't you come after me yourself?"
he taunted. "Or are you too much of a Red Blood lover you've forgotten your Blood is blue?”
Jack blushed to the roots of his fine blond hair.
"You Forces—or whatever your call yourselves these days—would be nothing without my family, without the sacrifices we made," Kingsley said darkly. He turned on his heel and started to walk away. “Any time you want to eat your words, Force, you know where to find me.”
“Jack, it's just a joke," Mimi said, trying to mollify her brother.
"Drop it," Jack said, shrugging off her hand from his shoulder.
He walked away quickly, and Mimi followed him, a cross look on her face. “Jack, wait, c'mon.”
But Jack didn't turn around. His ears were burning from embarrassment at lashing out like that in public. Had that been wise? He'd had to stop Kingsley, hadn't he? Or was he just being humorless like his sister had said? And anyway, what was Kingsley talking about? What sacrifices had the Martins made?
He would have to ask his father about this.
TWENTY-TWO
Oliver had saved her a seat next to his in Chem lab. He handed Schuyler her goggles, and she put on her lead apron. "What are we doing today?" she asked, fitting the goggles over her nose. Oliver was already wearing his. The whole class looked like a team of welders. Across the room, Mimi loudly complained that the goggles gave her an ugly re
d mark on her nose, but no one paid much attention.
"Making candy again?" Schuyler asked.
Oliver checked the Bunsen burner and turned it on slowly, so it emitted a small, red flame. "Yup.”
In the past, Duchesne had had one of the most inventive and charismatic science teachers on the subject. In fact, Chem lab was so popular among the students that both juniors and sophomores were allowed to take it as an elective. But Mr. Anthony, the boyish, enthusiastic, and recent Yale grad, had been discharged from the school over winter break due to an unfortunate affair with one of his students, who had gotten pregnant. Mr. Anthony was fired, and the student expelled. This was not Degrassi Junior High, after all. This was Duchesne.
Which was all well and good, except that with Mr. Anthony and his advanced, yet exciting, lab experiments gone (last semester they had turned copper into gold, or at least gold plate), the students were stuck with boring old Mr. Korgan, whose syllabus included a series of experiments each duller than the next. Calculating density. Determining the composition of water. Identifying a solution as acid, base, or neutral. Yaawwwn. Mr. Korgan was so slow that for two weeks the class was involved in creating a chemical reaction in hydrogen and fructose otherwise known as turning sugar and water into candy.
Schuyler was ready to place a beaker filled with water above the burner, when Mr. Korgan announced they were going to do something different that day.
"I would like you to—cough switch lab partners every week. The class has grown very disruptive of late and so I must—cough separate you from your friends. Will the partner on the left please step down to the next table, and so on, and we will keep this rotation every week.”
Oliver and Schuyler looked pained. "See you after class," Oliver called as Schuyler collected her things and moved over to the next table, where Kingsley Martin was standing.
If anything, the large plastic goggles on his face only served to enhance his beauty by highlighting how nothing could put a damper on his good looks—not even bug-eyed plastic shades. Kingsley could wear polyester pants and a Groucho mustache and still look hot. Schuyler hadn't seen much of Kingsley since he arrived, although she had heard all the raves about him, and had witnessed his arrogant performance at the cortile that morning.
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