"So there is nothing I can do to prove my innocence?" Mimi asked.
"Nothing.”
FORTY-TWO
The audience from the hearing dispersed to the Repository upstairs, and Schuyler waited for her grandfather by the entrance. Oliver had already gone ahead, citing an afternoon Trig quiz he couldn't miss. They had been given special dispensation to attend the hearing that morning.
Schuyler knew she should have gone back with him, but she wanted to hear her grandfather's take on the whole situation.
He was leaving the Conclave headquarters, with Edmund Oelrich and Nan Cutler at his side.
"We'll take your leave, Lawrence," Edmund said, bowing. "It is a travesty what has happened to this community.”
"We assure you, you will have our votes when the time comes," Nan added, patting Lawrence on the arm. "We should have listened to you four hundred years ago. To think that the Abomination has reached the royal family!”
"Thank you." Lawrence nodded. He turned to Schuyler. "So. What do you think of Kingsley Martin now?”
They began walking up the stairs, toward the side doors of the vampire-only club, Block
122, and out onto the sidewalk.
"It was Mimi all along," Schuyler marveled. "Mimi…" It was still hard to believe, especially with all their lingering suspicions about Kingsley. "Did you know about Kingsley being a Venator?”
Lawrence nodded. "Yes.”
Schuyler remembered what Kingsley had said to Jack that one morning. You would be nothing without us, without the sacrifices we have made.
"But you were right, granddaughter. Kingsley is a Silver Blood," Lawrence said, waving Julius over in the town car.
"How do you mean?" Schuyler asked as she stepped inside, Lawrence holding the door open.
"His family is an old one. One of the ancient warriors. They were corrupted by Lucifer himself. But they came back into the Blue Blood fold, repenting their actions, and they have learned how to control the Abomination, the hunger, the voices in their heads," Lawrence said, closing the door. "Duchesne, please, Julius. We shall drop off Schuyler first and then home for me," he said, tapping on the glass that separated the driver from the passengers.
They drove through the streets of Chelsea to the West Side Highway. It was another gray New York day.
"But how can we trust them?”
"We have trusted them for thousands of years. Kingsley Martin is a Silver Blood only by default. His blood is as blue as yours and mine. They have sworn off their allegiance to Lucifer, and have been very helpful in our search for the conspirator." Lawrence sighed. “And yet…”
“And yet?”
"And yet…something about this case bothers me. Do you believe Mimi Force is guilty?”
"Yes," Schuyler said unequivocally. "She's an awful person, grandfather.”
“And to know that you were her target is extremely troubling, yes. But…”
"But what?”
"But if you were the target, why was Priscilla taken? And the Llewellyn girl? Something doesn't add up.”
Schuyler shrugged. Maybe she shouldn't rush to judgment, but wasn't that what The Committee had done? And she couldn't find it in her heart to pity Mimi. The girl had sent a Silver Blood to kill her, after all.
"You heard what Kingsley said. And he's a Venator. Doesn't that mean he has to tell the truth? At all times?”
Lawrence nodded. "Yes. Charles has always trusted them. He was the one who recruited them back to our cause. But I do not know. I have always harbored my doubts about the Martins.”
The car pulled up to the gates of the Duchesne School.
Schuyler hopped out of the car, but not before giving her grandfather a kiss on the cheek.
"Your grandmother always said never to trust shiny surfaces. They hide a multitude of flaws.”
As she walked into the school, Schuyler bumped into Jack Force, who was coming in from the side door. Jack was still wearing his dark gray suit from the hearing, and his eyes were red-rimmed, as if from crying. Schuyler felt a stab of pity. While she had no love for Mimi, Jack was a reminder that not everyone felt the same way.
"She didn't do it, you know," he said preemptively.
Schuyler flushed, thinking, She wanted to destroy me! She admitted it herself! But to Jack she said coolly, "That's not what the court found.”
"Mimi's selfish…but she's not evil," Jack implored. The afternoon bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period and the start of classes. Students began streaming out of the cafeteria, up the stairs, and crowding the marble foyer, where Jack and Schuyler were standing. Several whispered to each other as they noticed Jack and Schuyler huddled in conversation. Some Blue Bloods who had attended the hearing looked sympathetic when they saw Jack, while others glared, and one went so far as to hiss at his presence. A special Committee meeting had been scheduled that afternoon to alert junior members on the latest discoveries.
"She would never truly hurt another person." Jack continued to press his sister's case.
"She doesn't hate you. Not really." He wished he could explain. It not you she hates, Schuyler. It's me. She just turned her anger outward because she couldn't bring herself to hate whom she loves. And she does hate me for what I have done—for loving you.
Schuyler looked at him skeptically, but remained silent. Mimi Force. Azrael. The Angel of Death? Wasn't that Mimi's job? To bring about the end of life? To her surprise, Jack seemed to be able to read her mind.
"You don't understand—it is part of the balance. We are who we are. Death is as much a part of life. It is the gift of the Red Bloods. Mimi is part of the grand plan," Jack said.
Schuyler shrugged. "I'm not so sure," she said. "Goodbye, Jack.”
FORTY-THREE
Lawrence was poring over archives from the Repository, and noticed that one clipping had been completely burned except for the date on the top. November 23, 1872. He was still puzzling over it when Schuyler returned from school. She told her grandfather about Jack Force being able to read her mind that afternoon.
"I thought I was safe from telepathy, and yet he was still able to read my thoughts. Why?"
she asked.
"Abbadon has always been one of our most gifted seers," Lawrence said. "It will take more than a simple occludo exercise to close one's mind from him. But it sometimes happens that those who are drawn to each other can share a kinship of some kind.”
"Drawn to each other?" Schuyler asked.
"You must have noticed he is drawn to you," Lawrence said.
Schuyler blushed. She had hoped but she had never thought of it as a reality. And yet, even with his bond with Mimi, he had sought her friendship and hinted that maybe he would be interested in something more.…He had kissed her once, so long ago. And the boy behind the mask…Could it have been him?
"But he is bonded," Schuyler said. "It cannot be.”
"No. Not among our kind. Abbadon has always been this way. You were not the first to tempt his fidelity," Lawrence said. "But it will pass. Thank goodness you are not drawn to him.
Otherwise it will spell disaster for both of you.”
She looked down at the carpet, wondering if her grandfather was testing her, or if he merely assumed that Schuyler would choose the right path simply because she was his granddaughter.
"Yes," she said. "Thank God for that.”
She felt a sudden light-headedness, and her vision became pixilated and blurry; her knees buckled, but before she could collapse, Lawrence leaped to his feet and steadied her. "You have not done as you were told," he said grimly. "You have not taken a human familiar. You are weakening.”
She shook her head.
"This is not a trivial matter, Schuyler. If you do not take a familiar, there is a very real danger you will succumb to a coma like your mother.”
"But I…”
Lawrence cut her off with a curt directive. "You must hunt, then—use the seduction. The call. That is the only way now.”
Th
e Caerimonia Osculor was a ritual between vampire and human that was usually a development within an existing relationship. That was why human familiars were traditionally lovers and friends of Blue Bloods. But the Code also allowed for the use of the powers of Seduction if the vampire was desperate. The vampire would use The Call to draw the human to him, hypnotizing the human and drawing its blood.
"I have taught you the words from the sacred language that would induce it," Lawrence said. "I will be going to the club tonight. When I return, I will trust that you have performed what is necessary.”
Her grandfather departed soon after that, leaving Schuyler upstairs in her room. I don't want to, she thought stubbornly. I don't want to do it with a stranger. I don't want to do it with someone I don't know. I'm not desperate! Or am I?
Then, almost as if drawn by the call, someone knocked on Schuyler's bedroom door.
"What is it, Hattie?" Schuyler asked.
The door opened. "It's not Hattie, it's me," Oliver said, slouching in the doorway.
"I didn't hear the front door open. What are you doing here?" Schuyler asked defensively.
"Your grandfather told me you wanted me to come over," Oliver explained.
Ah. So Lawrence had performed a call of his own. Only, this one merely involved the use of a telephone. Very clever, grandfather, Schuyler thought.
Oliver walked over to sit on the footlocker across from Schuyler's bed. He looked at her pensively. "I was thinking…if you still want to do it, we can.”
"You mean?”
"Yeah.”
"Here?" Schuyler asked, looking around at her room, at her Evanescence posters, the pink Barbie dream house, the row of Playbill covers—Rent, Avenue Q, The Boy from Oz—taped on her wall during the time when Cordelia regularly took her to Broadway musicals. It was still a childish bedroom and painted Mountain Dew yellow. It didn't look like the lair of a vampire.
"As good a place as any," Oliver shrugged. "Besides, it'll save me the cost of a hotel room.”
"You're sure about this?" Schuyler asked, reaching for his hand.
"Yes." Oliver exhaled. "I know what's going to happen to you if you don't, and between you and me, I'd prefer it if you weren't a vegetable. I hate vegetables," he joked. "Especially broccoli…So how do we…" Oliver said. "Should I stand? Or…" He stood up and looked around.
He was so much taller than she was.
"No, sit down," Schuyler said, pushing him gently by the shoulders onto her bed. "This way I can reach down." She stood between his legs. He looked up at her. She thought he had never looked so handsome, or so vulnerable.
Oliver closed his eyes. "Be gentle.”
Schuyler leaned down, kissed the hollow at the base of his neck, and then, ever so gently, she elongated her fangs and stuck them in.
Oliver whistled between his teeth, as if in pain. "Should I stop?”
"No…go on…" he said, waving a hand.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?”
"No…It feels…good, actually," he whispered. He put a hand on her head and guided her to his neck again.
Schuyler closed her eyes and sank her fangs back into his neck. As she did so, her senses heightened, and his mind became open to her. The blood memory came flashing out. It was just as Bliss had said: she was devouring his soul, his very being…and, what was this? His mind was an open book to her now, his blood mixing with hers, reviving hers…and she could read every thought he'd ever had in his life…could access every memory.
Oliver was in love with her.
He had been in love with her all along. Ever since they'd met. For years and years and years.
She had long suspected this but had repressed it. But now it was confirmed. She couldn't deny it.
Oh, Ollie. I shouldn't have done this. Schuyler despaired. The Sacred Kiss would only increase his love, not dispel it.
Now they were bound to each other in a new and more complicated way.
This was more than she'd bargained for. Their friendship would be jeopardized, she knew that now. There was no going back from here. They would only be able to go forward. As vampire and familiar. Entwined by an ancient ritual of blood.
She finished. She was satiated. She withdrew her fangs and felt the life-giving energy flow through her body. It was as if she had ingested twenty-four gallons of high-octane coffee.
Her cheeks flushed with color, and her eyes sparkled.
Oliver's head flopped down. He was already asleep. Schuyler gently laid him on her bed, where he would have to rest for the next several hours, and covered him with her blanket.
What have I done? she wondered, even as she felt her vision clear and her senses heighten. Would they be able to keep this a secret from The Committee? What if Oliver were banished because they found out a Conduit had become a human familiar? She remembered Cordelia telling her that Allegra had married Schuyler's father, her human familiar, against the Code of the Vampires. Her mother had exchanged one bond for another.
And what about Jack?
When Oliver woke, Schuyler was sitting at her desk, watching him.
"Well," he said, scratching his neck where the bite marks were still raw, "I guess that's what you call friends with benefits.”
They both cracked up.
Schuyler threw a pillow at him. She walked Oliver to the door and thanked him again. He kissed her on the lips as he left. A quick kiss, but still, a kiss on the lips.
She closed the door behind him, her heart anxious and troubled.
This was a mistake.
FORTY-FOUR
Allegra Van Alen's hospital suite was on the top floor of Columbia Presbyterian, in a private wing where the rich and famous convalesced. The room was decorated in a style suited to the city's best hotels, with white Italian linens on the bed, sumptuous carpeting, and crystal vases filled with fresh flowers. Every day, a team of nurses massaged and manipulated Allegra's limbs to keep her muscles from the dangers of atrophy.
Not that Allegra would ever notice. Once the city's most celebrated beauty, she slumbered, oblivious to the world around her: a woman with a glorious and tragic past, but no future.
The heart monitor next to the bed showed a steady pulse, and for a long time, there was no sound in the room but the steady beeping from the machine.
Lawrence Van Alen sat in a chair opposite Allegra's bed. He had come to visit his daughter for the first time since he had returned. It was a visit he had been postponing due to the emotional weight of seeing his child reduced to such diminished capacity.
"Oh, Gabrielle," he said finally. "How did it come to this?”
"She can't hear you," Charles Force said as he entered the room, bearing another vase of flowers. He placed it on the sideboard next to her bed. He didn't seem surprised to find Lawrence there.
"She chooses not to hear," Lawrence said. "You have done this.”
"I have done nothing. This is her own doing.”
"Be that as it may, it was still your fault. If you had not—” "If I had not saved her, you mean, in Florence? If I had let the beast have her? Then she would not be in a coma? But what was the alternative? To let her die? What was I to do? Tell me, Father.”
"What you did was against the laws of the universe. It was her time, Michael. It was her time to go.”
"Do not speak to me of time. You have no idea what happened. You were not there," Charles said bitterly.
He put a hand on Allegra's cheek and stroked it gently. "One day she will awake. She will awake out of love for me.”
"It is sad that you still do not understand, Michael. She will never love you the way she did before. She herself did not understand the choice you made. You should have let her die. She will never forgive you.”
Charles Force's shoulders shook. "Why do you talk to me as if I were still a boy? She only left Heaven out of love for you and Cordelia when you were banished.”
"Yes. We had been doomed, we who were loyal to Lucifer. But your sister brought us hope. It was her choice
to become one of the undead.”
“Just as it was my choice to follow her.”
Lawrence ruminated on their ancient history. How long ago it seemed now: Lucifer's ascent to the throne, the Prince of Heaven in all his glory, his bright shining star rising as beautiful as the sun, as powerful as God, or so they had thought, to their own detriment. How they had suffered. The cruel exile from Paradise, and Gabrielle, the Virtuous, who had volunteered to join the ranks of Lucifer's minions to bring hope and salvation to her kind. She had turned her back on Heaven for love of them, and Michael had followed her out of Paradise because he could not bear to be separated from her. The two of them were called the Uncorrupted because they did not bear the sin of banishment. They had left on their own accord. Out of love and duty.
"So you have won, Lawrence. After all these years, you finally have what you want. The coven.”
The White Vote had been called that morning, and Lawrence had been installed as Regis in an almost unanimous election. Charles had been stripped of his title and responsibilities immediately. His reputation had been badly tainted by Mimi's conviction. He had tendered his resignation from the Conclave as soon as the news had been announced.
"I never wanted to displace you, Charles. I only wanted us to be safe.”
"Safe? No one is safe. All you will do is sow fear and weakness. You will have us retreat once again. Back to the shadows. Back to the darkness, where we will hide like animals.”
"Not a retreat, a tactical exercise in which we will be able to prepare. Because war is coming, and there is nothing you can do to stop it this time. The Silver Bloods are ascendant and the future of this world will be decided once and for all.”
Charles Force remained silent. He walked toward the window and looked out at the Hudson river. A slow barge moved across the surface, and a seagull honked its lonely cry.
"But I have hope. It is said that Allegra's daughter will defeat the Silver Bloods. I believe Schuyler will bring us the salvation we seek," Lawrence said. "She is almost as powerful as her mother." He told Charles of Schuyler's astonishing abilities. "And one day she will be even more powerful.”
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