“Don’t talk about this like it’s not your choice. You’re the one wearing the dress tonight. You’re the one who becomes immortal if you win.”
“I know all that, and I’ve made my own peace with how it has to be,” Nicky said, reciting a line she had rehearsed in her head before falling asleep the night before. “But I never chose this. I was chosen. Powerful people in Washington found me and decided I was the one they were looking for. My family was broke, Ryan. We were deep in debt, on the edge of slavery for all I know. My parents couldn’t resist. We were nothing when they agreed to this plan where I enter Coronation to beat Kim Renwick. Now we’re millionaires. But if I blow this, well, I don’t know what will happen to me or my family.”
They danced in silence for a time before Ryan said, “So I was supposed to be your first big donor.”
Nicky was crying now. The tears were faked, but they were easy to come by.
“Yes,” she said. “My backers thought that you were the one with the courage to stand up to Kim and lead the way.”
Ryan smiled, then began to laugh. “What?” Nicky said, laughing back at him. At that moment, her eyes caught Jill looking right at her. Jill looked away.
“I’m just laughing at how fucked up this whole world is,” Ryan said.
“I’m glad you can laugh about it. I can’t.”
“Here’s the deal, Nicky Bloom. I’m not donating on your behalf. Ever. And it’s not because I’m mad at you for using me, even though I am. And it’s also not because I don’t want you to win. Hell, if somebody’s got to win, it might as well be you rather than Kim. But I don’t get to make that choice. I’m like you. My choice has been made for me.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that powerful people in Washington have a hold on me too, and, just like you, I’m acting against my will.”
Powerful people? Who in the world was powerful enough to tell Ryan Jenson what to do? His family was one of the wealthiest in the history of the world.
“Ryan, are you saying...do the Renwicks have something on you?”
Ryan nodded. Nicky’s shoulders slumped. She used the mother of all curse words for the second time that night, showing the very real frustration that she felt.
This was bad news, and a big error on the Network’s part. The Network’s intel officers were certain they knew of every single blackmailing scheme that Kim and her father were running. They didn’t know of anything being held over Ryan’s head.
The music was starting to slow. The song was coming to an end. It would be awhile before Nicky had another chance to talk to Ryan in private. She needed to pull herself together and try to figure something out.
“I can help, Ryan,” she said. “I have powerful friends.”
“You can’t help me with this one. There’s not a thing you can do or say that will keep Kim from getting my money this year.”
“Maybe if you just told me a little bit. I swear you’d be amazed at what these people--”
“Forget it, Nicky. You have your secrets and I have mine. And I’m sad that things have worked out this way, but that’s kind of how it goes, isn’t it? The immortals take our money, play with our lives, enslave little kids, and eat people for dinner, and we all just have to sit back and watch it happen. Sometimes the bad people win, and the good people have to do whatever is necessary just to stay alive.”
The music came to a stop.
“Good luck, Nicky,” said Ryan, then he turned to dance with someone else.
11
When Kim Renwick was four years old, her daddy taught her a new game.
“This is a pretend game you play with your teacher,” her daddy said. “The person who wins is the one who doesn’t stop pretending.”
Kim’s teacher, Mr. Arsano, was a bald man who wore fuzzy sweaters and big glasses. Mr. Arsano was the headmaster at Mount Claremont, the most expensive, exclusive preschool in Washington.
“Mr. Arsano doesn’t like me,” Kim said. “He makes me sit in timeout every day.”
“Mr. Arsano likes this game,” said her daddy. “And I want you to play it. I want you to win at this game and make me proud of you.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Most of Kim’s memories from her time at Mount Claremont preschool were faded, incomplete scenes. She remembered teasing a boy named Jacob who had peed his pants. She remembered getting angry during snack one day and throwing her cup of grape juice into the wall. She remembered feeling jealous of Carmen Cook, whose mother, not her nanny but her actual mother, give her a big goodbye squeeze every morning.
The game with Mr. Arsano was the only memory from Mount Claremont that Kim could recall in complete detail. It was naptime. Kim never fell asleep during naptime. She lay on her mat, waiting until Jacob started snoring. Then she sat up and called for Mr. Arsano.
He came over and squatted down next to her mat.
“What is it, Kim?” he asked.
“Mr. Arsano, do you remember when I asked you to help me go potty the other day?” Kim said. That was the line she and her daddy had practiced. Saying that line meant the game had begun. She remembered what her daddy had taught her about Mr. Arsano’s response.
“Mr. Arsano will say he doesn’t remember,” her daddy had told her. “That’s how you know he’s playing too.”
Sure enough, Mr. Arsano said he had no idea what she was talking about, that Janelle was the one who took girls to the potty.
“No, it was just a few days ago,” Kim said, continuing the game. “You said it was your turn to take me potty because I was special, and I said yes, even though I didn’t have to go, and then we went into the potty and you locked the door and told me you wanted to show me something. That’s the day I’m talking about.”
“Kim, I think you’re remembering some time with someone else,” said Mr. Arsano. “I never took you to the potty.”
Her daddy said that Mr. Arsano might start to act angry. It was all part of the game. He was trying to make her stop pretending. If she stopped, she lost.
“I wanted to tell you, Mr. Arsano, that I didn’t like it when you showed me that thing between your legs,” Kim said. “I thought it was ugly. And I’m not going to touch it again, even if you ask me to.”
“Kim Renwick, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I assure you I did no such thing. Did someone else do this to you Kim?”
“My daddy told me that what you did was a bad thing,” Kim said, proud of herself for remembering all her lines. She was going to win at this game. “My daddy said that I should tell someone about this, but here’s what I think. I think I will have so much fun in kindergarten at Lincoln Hills I won’t even remember what you did. I am going to Lincoln Hills, right? Daddy said that I only get to go there if you tell the teachers I’m smart enough. Do you think I’m smart enough?”
The next year, Kim was enrolled in kindergarten at Lincoln Hills, Mr. Arsano having written a glowing letter of recommendation.
It wasn’t until third grade that Kim began to comprehend the meaning of the game she had played with Mr. Arsano. But even during those years when she didn’t understand what she had done, she knew she had beaten him. She remembered the fear in his eyes. She knew, even at four years old, that she was more powerful than he was. That she was a winner.
Now, as Kim danced with Marshall Beaumont, her heart still racing from her confrontation with Nicky, she thought about another time she had won. In ninth grade, she needed something very specific from Ryan Jenson, and he didn’t want to help. Just like she did with Mr. Arsano, Kim outsmarted Ryan. She played on his fears and made him conform to her will.
But here they were at Homecoming, and already Ryan had danced with Nicky. What was going on with those two? Ryan and Nicky had been seen going off to lunch together more than once in the past two weeks. Now they had danced together at Homecoming, and when they did, Nicky had a lot to say. She had looked so at ease in Ryan’s arms, and they had talked and talked, right up unt
il the dance ended and they parted ways.
Kim pushed Marshall along the floor, trying to get in position to dance with Ryan, but she couldn’t get close enough, and when the music came to a stop, she found herself facing Dan Stearns instead.
“Ms. Renwick, it truly is an honor,” Dan said with a little bow.
“Shut it, Dan,” said Kim. “And get close to Ryan.”
“Ryan Jenson?” said Dan.
“Is there another Ryan in this ballroom?” Kim snapped.
Dan’s father ran a hedge fund which, of late, was deep in the red. To ensure his clients got a consistent cash flow even as the fund bled money, the Stearns family had dipped its toes into the drug and sex trades, and left a paper trail that was easy for Kim’s daddy to sniff out.
As such, Dan was going to pledge lots of money on Kim’s behalf this year, regardless of how she treated him.
“Go slowly. You’re being too obvious,” she said as Dan dragged her across the floor. “We’ve got plenty of time to work over to them. Just stay on their left.”
Dan did as he was told, saying nothing.
Ryan Jenson was dancing with Gloria Castillo now, and appeared to have returned to his usual sullen self, a far cry from the Chatty Cathy he became when he was dancing with Nicky. Kim hadn’t seen Ryan speak that much since freshman year.
Since she had paid him a visit to have a little chat.
A little chat. Kim had adopted the phrase, but they were her daddy’s words. They were three words that terrified everyone in DC. A little chat with Galen Renwick meant the end of careers, the end of wealth and power, the beginning of a life of servitude.
Kim had witnessed many little chats over the past few years, but she only had the opportunity to say the words herself one time. In Ryan’s case, a very unique case indeed, Kim had decided that she would take the lead.
And on this night, when the arrival of a new girl wearing a black dress had ruined years of planning, Kim took comfort thinking back on that cloudy October day from freshman year when she went to Ryan’s house and told him it was time for a little chat.
Ryan had never been a problem since that day, or at least, that’s how it appeared. It might be that he was playing her all this time, that he was pretending to behave, all the while orchestrating the surprise arrival of Nicky Bloom in a black dress.
If Ryan had broken their deal, so help her, she would make him pay. Oh, would she make him pay.
The dancers were moving counterclockwise around the floor. Kim made Dan work to the inside track of the circle, where they could make up some ground. As they passed Mattie and Brian, Kim heard one of them mention Jada Razor. As they passed Jill and Jerome, she heard Jada Razor’s name again.
“Why is everyone talking about Jada Razor?” she asked Dan.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe she has a new album coming out?”
“Who cares if she has a new album coming out? We’re at the Homecoming ball for Christ’s sake.”
“You were the one who asked.”
“Just forget it. Stay close to Ryan. The music is slowing down.”
As they slowed to a stop, Kim took the lead, and pushed herself next to Ryan and Gloria, so when the music stopped, Ryan had no choice but to turn to Kim for the partner change.
He gave her a brief, dismissive look, then said, “I think I’m going to sit this one out.”
“Well then, I suppose I am as well,” said Kim. “Shall we go to the bar?”
Ryan sighed, and walked off the dance floor. Kim slid her arm inside his and accompanied him to the bar.
12
The first two hours of the Homecoming Masquerade were unsupervised. That was part of the game. It was a way the immortals could make the lowly humans show their subservience. Here were a hundred high school seniors from the richest families in the world, who were accustomed to doing whatever they wanted to do and living a life largely without consequences, yet for two hours they came together and followed the rules of a strict Victorian dance, all without any supervision.
Thorndike students were so well trained, so terrified of what the immortals might do to them, that they behaved like little puppets at their own school dance. In fifty-plus years, the unsupervised portion of the ball had always been smooth. Nicky’s confrontation with Kim was probably the least couth behavior in the history of Homecoming.
Unsupervised didn’t mean without security. There was plenty of that. Just because the Thorndike students behaved didn’t mean the rest of the world could be trusted. There were humans all over the world who were poor, who were hungry, who were desperate, who might choose to sabotage a gathering of power and privilege like Thorndike’s Homecoming. There were rival clans from other parts of the world who were jealous of the powerful American vampires and always on the lookout for a moment to strike. Plus, there was the Network to worry about. All of this made Homecoming a major security concern, and Renata spared no expense ensuring that her guests were safe.
The first line of defense was Renata’s own army of slaves. Sure, they were young and weak, but they were trained to fight to the death if necessary. Private contractors added another layer of security, monitoring the forest immediately surrounding Renata’s property and barricading all roads in a three-mile radius. Police, National Guard, and Secret Service rounded out the security detail, each group assigned specific tasks to protect the mansion and its occupants.
All of this security was necessary whenever it was known that immortals would be gathering in one place, and on this night, there were many immortals in attendance. Renata and her invited immortal guests went on a ceremonial hunt outside the mansion during the first part of Homecoming. During the third and final hour of Homecoming, Renata and her guests would come inside to join the party. In their formal dress and bejeweled masks, these immortals would step onto the dance floor with everyone else, cutting in for a dance wherever they wished. Those lucky students who got to dance with an immortal would remember the experience for life.
Nicky was guaranteed at least one dance with an immortal, as Sergio Alonzo himself came to the party to dance with the girls wearing black. Initially, the Network considered a strategy where somehow Nicky and Jill took a stab at killing Sergio right there in the ballroom, foregoing all this convoluted business of winning Coronation. But they thought better of it. As complicated and difficult as winning Coronation would be, the odds of success were far greater with that plan than with any scheme to try and kill Sergio in plain sight.
Killing a vampire was a risky, messy business. While it was true that a heavy stake to the heart or a complete decapitation would indeed take down the creatures, actually making that happen was harder than it seemed. Vampires were too fast and cunning for a single person to take them out with a sword. Every kill the Network had made was done by two or more people, and a lot of weaponry. The key was getting a few good shots in with some hefty hunting ammunition to slow them down. The most successful vampire hunter in the Network, Elliott Toffler, had made all his kills as part of a team of ten, where they first trapped the creature, then filled it with lead, and only then, when it was too slow to get away, chopped its head off.
There was some debate though if an approach like that was even viable with Sergio. Vampires grew stronger as they aged, and only Daciana Samarin herself was older than Sergio.
As Nicky changed partners for the fourth time, she thought about Sergio. How many more dances until she was in his arms? How many more minutes before she was face to face with the vampire she was meant to kill?
It was nine-forty now. There was time for two more dances before the intermission. Nicky had been aiming to dance with Marshall Beaumont, but he had stepped away from her at the last minute, and she ended up with Sam Featherstone.
Sam’s mother was a Hollywood starlet and his father was a baseball player. Both of his parents had magazine-cover faces, so it had to be a disappointment to them that their son was such a plain-looking boy. Sam’s high cheekbones, boxy
frame, and stringy hair were an unusual mix. When combined with his brat-like, ultra-entitled personality, it all made for an ugly kid.
“I’m hearing something about a party at the Hamilton,” Sam said shortly after the dance began.
“That’s correct,” said Nicky. “Are you coming?”
“Well, I had planned on going to Kim’s, but…”
“Hardly anyone will be at Kim’s,” said Nicky. “Jada Razor is performing at my party.”
“Really? How’d you get her?” His tone of voice was dismissive and insulting. Nicky and Jill had a lot of work to do.
Clearly, word was getting out about the party, but no one really believed yet that Nicky’s party was the one to attend. Nicky wondered how Jill was coming along with Annika Fleming, thinking about how her own work on Ryan had come unglued. If things didn’t start improving here soon, Nicky’s after-party would be a dud, and the entire mission would be in jeopardy.
She worked on Sam for the remainder of the dance, reminding him that he hated Kim just as much as everyone else, telling him that this was a once in a lifetime chance to get it right.
As she spoke with Sam, she looked at the bar, where Ryan and Kim were talking, or rather, Kim was talking and Ryan was listening.
What did Kim have on Ryan? The Network had combed every aspect of his life and found nothing. He was clean. His parents were clean. His grandparents were clean. All the Jenson wealth could be accounted for in legal transactions. No one in the family had trouble with the law or relationships with shady characters of any sort.
They had to find a way to free Ryan from Kim’s grasp or the entire plan was ruined. In a city full of rats, Ryan was meant to be the Pied Piper. He was to come on board as Nicky’s first major donor, and after he’d pledged his mega millions, others would follow. Without him, Nicky might as well run out the door right now and never come back.
Nicky tried to get a read on what Kim was saying, but between the constant turns of the waltz and the position of Kim’s wine glass, Nicky couldn’t see her lips. She looked at the other people at the bar, watching to see if someone might be eavesdropping on Kim and Ryan’s conversation, someone who could be probed for info about what Kim was saying, but it didn’t look like anyone was listening. Zoe was telling some drunken story to Xavier, waving her arms all over the place. Chelsea, Isabella, Annika, and Jenny were gathered in a circle, giggling about something. Rosalyn was walking away from the bar, a very full goblet of wine in her hand.
The Homecoming Masquerade Page 7
