Masquerade bb-2

by Мелисса Де Ла Круз

  "To be honest, I came to see a boy," she said.

  "What boy?" he asked in a teasing tone.

  "It doesn't matter.”

  "Why not?”

  "Because. It's complicated." Schuyler shrugged.

  "Now, now.”

  "It is. He's…he's not interested," she said, thinking of Jack and Mimi, and the bond between them. Whatever she was feeling for him was irrelevant. He had made that clear at her grandmother's funeral. He had responsibilities to his family. She couldn't escape the image of the two of them holding their hands aloft. Azrael and Abbadon. The magnetic charge between them was electric. The whole ballroom had tingled with excitement at the announcement. Two of our most powerful vampires. They have been revealed to us at last. Who was she, Schuyler Van Alen, not even a pure-blood vampire, to come between them?

  "How do you know he's not interested?" he asked in a serious tone.

  "I just do.”

  "You might be surprised.”

  Schuyler realized that the boy was standing close to her as he spoke. His eyes behind the mask she could detect a hint of green. Her heart skipped a beat. The boy moved closer.

  "Surprise me," Schuyler whispered.

  In response, the boy lifted her mask gently, so that her lips were exposed, and then he leaned down and brought his mouth to hers.

  Schuyler closed her eyes. The only boy she had ever kissed was Jack Force, and this was like that—but different somehow. More urgent. More insistent. She inhaled his breath, felt his tongue in her mouth, rolling on top of hers, almost as if he wanted to devour her. It felt as if she could kiss him forever.

  And then it stopped.

  She opened her eyes, her mask askew from her face. What happened? Where had he gone?

  "Hey!”

  Schuyler turned. Mimi Force was standing in the foyer, wearing a dazzling Indian princess headdress, her "mask" expertly drawn on with makeup and face paint.

  "Have you seen my brother anywhere?" Mimi had been upset at first to find her party overrun by human gatecrashers, but then she'd just chalked it up to her own irresistible popularity. So she wasn't fazed to find Schuyler, another non-invitee, at the party as well.

  Before Schuyler could answer, Jack Force materialized by his sister's side. He was wearing an Indian headdress like his sister's. And his mask too, was made of face paint.

  "Here I am," he said jovially. "Oh, hey, Schuyler. How was Venice?”

  "Great," Schuyler said, trying to keep her composure. "Cool.”

  "C'mon, Jack, the fireworks are about to start." Mimi said, pulling on his sleeve.

  "See ya," Jack called.

  Schuyler felt numb. She was so sure it was Jack she had been kissing. So sure it had been him behind that black mask. But his relaxed attitude, that casual friendliness, made her doubt her assumption. But if it wasn't Jack she had just kissed, then who? Who was the boy behind the mask?

  With a pang, she realized tomorrow was the start of the Christmas holidays, and she wouldn't see Jack Force again for two whole weeks.

  SEVENTEEN

  Winter finally arrived in New York in earnest, unleashing several storms. The city was covered by a pristine blanket of snow for several days, until it turned to gray and yellow mush, creating impromptu snowbanks around the sidewalks and muddy puddles that hardy citizens either jumped across or grimly splashed through in salt-caked rubber boots.

  Schuyler was glad for the cold, as the weather reflected her current mood. The holidays were a typically quiet time for the Van Alens. In the past, she and Cordelia would attend services at St. Bartholomew's across town, then have a modest repast at midnight on Christmas Eve.

  As she did every year, she spent this Christmas Day with her mother at the hospital. Julius and Hattie had the day off to be with their families, so she had taken the bus all the way uptown by herself. The hospital was practically abandoned when she arrived. There was one sleepy guard at the front desk and a skeletal crew of nurses anxious to finish their shifts. She noticed the staff had tried to infuse the place with some Christmas cheer. There were wreaths on each door, and a lone Charlie Brown—like Christmas tree with brown branches stood in the middle of the nurse's station, along with a flickering menorah.

  Her mother was asleep on the bed as usual. Nothing had changed. Schuyler placed another unopened gift by her mother's bedside. Through the years, Schuyler's presents collected more and more dust in her mother's closet.

  Dusting off the snow, she removed her coat, and stuffed her wool cap and gloves in its pockets. If Cordelia had been there she would have set out their Christmas lunch, removing turkey and stuffing, ham and hot rolls from Tupperware containers Hattie had prepared. Hattie had made up the same meal for Schuyler to bring, but eating it without Cordelia correcting her on her table manners or snapping at the nurses to bring her porcelain, not plastic, plates just wasn't the same.

  She turned on the television and settled in to eat her lonely lunch and watch another rerun of It's a Wonderful Life. The movie never failed to make her more depressed, since there was no happy ending for Allegra that she could see.

  Oliver had invited her to spend the day with his family, but she had declined. Whatever family she had left in the world was in this lonesome hospital room. This was where she belonged Across town on the Upper East Side, the great houses and lavish apartments were empty of their residents. The Forces had already left on their Gulfstream IV for their annual sojourn, shipping their beachwear via FedEx to their villa in St. Barths, where they would spend the first week of the break, and sending their ski gear to their Aspen cottage for the second half of their vacation. The Llewellyns were off to Texas to visit family for Christmas and were meeting up with the Forces in Aspen for New Year's.

  Even Oliver's family had made plans for a beach getaway to the family compound in Tortola, but he had opted to stay in the city to be close to Schuyler.

  He planned to visit the Van Alen town house the day after Christmas with an abundance of presents. They always spent Boxing Day together. Oliver liked to bring over a crusty baguette, French butter—the real kind, he stressed, nothing like the bland American versions—several jars of premium Russian caviar from Petrossian, as well as a magnum of champagne from his parents' wine cellar for their post-Christmas feast.

  But on the morning of the twenty-sixth, just as Oliver had packed the picnic basket with treats and was about to leave, he received a frantic call from Hattie, the Van Alen's maid.

  "Mr. Oliver, you come, you come right now," she begged.

  Oliver immediately jumped into a cab and arrived at the brownstone, to find Hattie frantic and incoherent, wringing her hands on her apron and close to tears. She led him up the stairs to Schuyler's room.

  "Miss didn't come down for breakfast. I thought she was just sleeping in, until Beauty ran down the stairs and practically pulled me up here. Then I saw she was just lying there, and I couldn't wake her up. God help me, she looks so much like Miss Allegra, and I was so worried because she wouldn't move, didn't even look like she was breathing, so I called you, Mr. Oliver.”

  Beauty, Schuyler's bloodhound, was whimpering at the foot of her bed. The dog jumped up and licked Oliver's hands and face when he entered the room.

  "You did well, Hattie," Oliver said, patting Beauty and then shaking Schuyler and checking for her pulse. There was none, but that didn't mean anything. His Conduit training had told him vampires could slow their heartbeat to a barely detectable rhythm to conserve their energy.

  Yet Schuyler was only fifteen years old and had only begun the transformation. It was too early for her to go into preservation mode. Unless…

  Oliver suddenly had an awful thought: what if Schuyler had been attacked by a Silver Blood? His hands shook as he dialed his aunt, Dr. Pat, the human doctor who cared for Blue Bloods. Dr. Pat discouraged Oliver from waiting for an ambulance or taking her to a proper hospital. "They won't know what to do with her. Just get her to my office now. I'll meet you there.”
<
br />   When Oliver arrived, holding Schuyler in his arms, Dr. Pat and her team were ready.

  They wheeled out a hospital bed, and Oliver gently laid his friend down.

  "Tell me she'll be all right," Oliver pleaded.

  Dr. Pat checked Schuyler's neck. There were no marks. No sign of Abomination. "She should be. It doesn't look like she's been attacked. She should be fine. They are immortal. But we'll see what's going on.”

  Oliver waited in Dr. Pat's outer room on a particularly uncomfortable plastic chair. His aunt had always been enamored of modern furniture, and the office resembled the lobby of a trendy hotel rather than a clinic: all-white plastic furniture, white flokati rugs, white space-age lamps. After a few anxiety-ridden hours, Oliver's aunt emerged from the inner office.

  Dr. Pat looked tired and beat. "Come in," she told her nephew. "She's awake. I gave her a transfusion. That seems to have done the trick.”

  Schuyler looked even smaller and more fragile in the hospital bed. She was wearing one of those gowns that tied in the back, and her face was paler than usual. He could see her blue veins through her transparent skin.

  "Well hello, Sleeping Beauty," Oliver cracked, trying to mask his concern.

  "Where am I?”

  "You're in my office, child," Dr. Pat said solemnly. "You went into hibernation. It's not something that usually happens until much, much later. It's another word for prolonged sleep, something vampires do when they are weary of immortality at the close of a cycle.”

  "My head feels weird. And my blood—it feels strange. Icky.”

  "I had to give you a transfusion. You had very low blood cell counts. It's going to feel strange for a little while as the new blood adjusts to the old.”

  "Oh." Schuyler shuddered.

  "Oliver, can you excuse us?”

  "Good to see you're okay," Oliver said, gripping Schuyler's shoulder tightly. "I'll just be outside.”

  Once Oliver was gone, Dr. Pat shone a light into each of Schuyler's pupils. She made a note on her chart, while Schuyler waited patiently for the diagnosis.

  Dr. Pat examined Schuyler closely. "You are fifteen, yes?" Schuyler nodded.

  "Inducted into The Committee?”

  "Yes.”

  "Like I said, you had very low red-blood cell counts. Yet your blue-blood cell counts are off the charts. In some ways, you already have the blood levels of a full-fledged vampire, and yet your body went into hibernation, which means you aren't producing the right levels of antigens.”

  "What does that mean?”

  "It means the transformation is going a bit haywire with you.”

  "Excuse me?”

  "The transformation is a process in which your blue-blood cells your vampire DNAstarts to take over. You grow your fangs, your body switches from needing nourishment from food to needing nourishment specifically from human blood. The memories start to come back, and your powers, whatever they are, begin to manifest.”

  Schuyler nodded.

  "Yet there's something odd in your blood analysis. The vampire cells are taking over, but it's not a normal, gradual process, wherein the human self is shed for the immortal like a snake shedding its skin. I'm not sure, but it's almost as if your human DNA is fighting the vampire one.

  Resisting it. And so to overcompensate, your vampire DNA is fighting back, hard—sending your human blood counts way below where they should be. The shock sent your body into hibernation. Did something happen? Sometimes it's triggered by a traumatic event.”

  Schuyler shook her head. The night before had been uneventful.

  "Sometimes, it can be a delayed reaction," Dr. Pat surmised. "It must be your mixed blood," she added. Dr. Pat knew all about the circumstances of Schuyler's birth. She had been Allegra's obstetrician.

  "No one has ever documented what happens when human DNA mixes with vampire blood. I'd like to put you under observation for a while.”

  EIGHTEEN

  A week later, Schuyler still felt a bit woozy after the "episode," which is what she and Oliver were calling her emergency visit to Dr. Pat's office. Oliver had offered to pick her up in his car to take her to the first day back at school. Schuyler, who would usually resist such a gesture since she lived across town and out of the way, had meekly agreed to such an arrangement.

  Oliver was her Conduit—he was supposed to take care of her, and for once, she was going to let him.

  The spring semester at Duschene was officially opened by an assembly, in which the Headmistress welcomed all the students back for another exciting term, followed by a tea of currant scones and hot chocolate in the belvedere. Oliver and Schuyler found their usual seats in the back pew of the chapel with the other sophomores.

  There was a lot of cheerful greeting and exchanging of vacation stories all around. Most of the girls looked tan and rested, trading cell phones to show pictures of themselves in bikinis on the beaches of the Bahamas, St. Thomas, or Maui. Schuyler saw Bliss Llewellyn walk in with Mimi Force, the two of them with their arms linked around each other's waists as if they were the closest of friends.

  Mimi's hair had been made even lighter by the sun, and Bliss sported a few copper highlights of her own. Jack Force walked slowly behind them, hands jammed in the pockets of his Duckhead chinos. He had a bit of a ski-mask tan around his eyes, which only made him look more adorable.

  Oliver noticed where Schuyler was looking and didn't comment. She knew how he felt about her crush on Jack Force.

  Sensing her friend's pique, Schuyler leaned down and rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. If it hadn't been for Oliver…she might have…what? Passed out forever? Joined her mother in the comatose room uptown? She was still having trouble understanding everything.

  What did it mean that her vampire cells were fighting her human cells? Would she always be torn in two directions?

  The hunger she had felt in Venice had abated somewhat with the transfusion. Maybe that was all it was. She had needed blood. Maybe she could just get transfusions instead of having to feed. She would have to ask Dr. Pat if that was a viable alternative. It was just too weird to always look at Oliver and think he'd taste delicious. He was her best friend, not a snack.

  Bliss Llewellyn looked around and met Schuyler's eye. The two girls waved shyly to each other. Bliss had been meaning to tell Schuyler about Dylan's return, to have the conversation she had started at the ball, but somehow the opportunity never seemed to come up.

  The holidays had been an anxious time for Bliss. The blackouts and nightmares had returned in full force. Christmas Eve had been the worst night yet. She had woken up with a pain in her chest so excruciating that she couldn't breathe. She was drenched in sweat and the bedsheets were so wet they were pasted together. Gross.

  Even more terrifying, the beast of her nightmares had begun to speak to her in her sleep.

  Blissssss…

  Blissssss…

  Blissssss…

  It only said her name, and yet it sent shivers down her spine. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. There was no beast who could hurt her. It was just part of the transformation. Her memories waking up and talking to her, that's what The Committee said. Her former selves, her past lives.

  She clenched her jaw and sat up straighter in her seat.

  Next to her, Mimi Force yawned into her delicate palm. For Mimi, the two weeks off had been nothing short of heaven. She had picked up not one but two yummy human familiars on the trip, had had her fill of them, and felt like she could conquer the world. She was eager to start the new semester. A new season always meant another excuse to go shopping. Like Bliss, Mimi was anxious, too. Anxious to get to Barneys today before it closed.

  Bliss forced herself to pay attention to the Headmistress's semiannual pep talk—Another semester of excellence awaits you in the halls of Duchesne, blah blah blah—when the chapel doors flew open with a bang.

  Heads swiveled to look at what had caused the commotion.

  A boy stood at the threshol
d.

  A very, very handsome boy.

  "Oh, er, sorry. Didn't mean to do that. Slip of the fingers, eh?" he asked.

  "No, no, it's okay. Come on in, Kingsley. You can have a seat up here in front," the Headmistress said, waving him forward.

  The boy grinned. He swaggered down the aisle, his walk a rolling, slouching gait. His black hair gleaming, a forelock saucily slanting over his left eye, he exuded a cocky confidence to go along with his model-perfect good looks. He wore a loose white oxford shirt and tight black jeans, as if he had just stepped off of a CD cover.

  Like all of the girls assembled, Bliss couldn't take her eyes off him.

  As though he could feel her stare, he turned around and looked at her directly in the eye.

  And winked.

  NINETEEN

  His name was Kingsley Martin, and he was a junior.

  The female populace at Duchesne agreed: even his name was sexy. The minute he appeared, it was as if a wildfire had spread among the girls. Within a week, his accomplishments were legendary. Already, he had been tapped to start on the school's lacrosse, soccer, and crew teams. Just as impressive, he was an academic sharpshooter. He had slain the crusty AP English teacher with his presentation on Dante's Inferno, titled "Taco Hell," where he had compared the circles of hell to common fast-food establishments. In AP Calculus, he had solved a complicated problem set in record time.

  It didn't hurt that he was what the girls called a knee-trembler. He was devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that combined Hollywood glamour with dapper European sophistication and a trace of mischief. The new boy looked fun.

  And just like that, Jack Force became old news. The girls had all gone to school with Jack Force since preschool. Kingsley presented a new, dashing, and mysterious alternative.

  Mimi Force gave Bliss the rest of the scoop after lunch while they reapplied lip gloss in the girls' bathroom.

  "He's a Blue Blood," Mimi said, making an 0 shape with her mouth as she slathered on the shine.