Chantal's office was a mess of modeling portfolios, and one solid wall was filled with hundreds of models' glossy eight-by-tens and Polaroid pictures. There were blue pages of next month's cover, mock-ups of the February issue, and a little teacup-size terrier yapping in the corner.
"Wait here," Keaton ordered. "Don't move.”
Schuyler and Bliss did as told, even though Bliss really wanted a glass of water and Schuyler was dying to use the bathroom. But the atmosphere at Chic was so intimidating, and Keaton so humorless, neither of them wanted to risk it. An hour later, Chantal finally arrived.
Bliss expected another tall glamazon, but Chantal was a small, short, pinched-looking woman with a pixie haircut and cat's-eye glasses. She wore a loose APC sweatshirt and baggy trousers, as well as comfortable (but limited edition and therefore, punishingly expensive) Japanese sneakers.
"Hi girls," she said briskly, then immediately called out, "Keaton! My Polaroid! Didn't I tell you to bring it?”
She sat at her desk and flipped through each of their portfolios quickly. "Yes, saw that.
Nice. Ooh. Not bad. Like that one, not so much that," she muttered. She slammed both books closed and instructed them to pose against the one blank wall in her office as she took several shots of each girl with her camera. Bliss went first.
It was all business as usual until Bliss suddenly fainted as the flashbulb exploded in her face.
"Oh my God. She's not anorexic, is she? I mean, it's fine if she is, God knows all the girls are. But I can't have her doing that on the shoot," Chantal said, more annoyed than concerned, as Bliss crumpled to the floor.
"No, that's not it," Schuyler said, worried. She knelt down and put a hand on Bliss's forehead. "It's a little hot in here.”
Bliss was making odd groaning sounds and dry-heaving. "No…Go away…No…”
"It'll be hotter on location," Chantal said darkly. "God help me if she vomits on my carpet.”
Schuyler glared at her, annoyed that the booking editor seemed to care more about her office than Bliss's health.
"Bliss? Bliss? Are you okay?" she asked, helping her friend to her feet. Bliss blinked her eyes open. "Schuyler?" she said throatily.
"Yeah.”
"I need to get out of here," Bliss implored.
"Keaton will walk you out. I'll let Linda know," Chantal said as she picked up the ringing telephone. It was obvious the booking editor had moved on to other concerns once the threat of projectile regurgitation had subsided.
Schuyler helped Bliss out of the office. "Steady. Easy." She pressed the down elevator button and glared at a Christie-Best girl, who gave them a curious look.
"I blacked out," Bliss said. “Again.”
“Again?”
"It happens all the time now," Bliss told Schuyler about the nightmares she was having and the dizzying experiences of waking up and finding herself in places where she had no memory of going. "I'll just wake up and I'll be somewhere else, with no idea where I am. I guess it's all part of the transformation," Bliss said.
"Yeah, it's happened to me too. Not as dramatic as what you've described, but a couple of weeks ago I blacked out. More like a hibernation, Dr. Pat said." Schuyler explained her condition as she led Bliss inside the elevator.
"Mine are pretty short, and it's part of the memory flashbacks, except I don't seem to remember anything," Bliss explained, looking relieved that she wasn't the only one who suffered from the episodes.
"I guess we just need to deal with it.”
"Kingsley said there are tricks to coping with it. He's going to show me how.”
The elevator arrived in the lobby, and as the doors opened, Jack Force entered. He was wearing a black Christie-Best "guest" sticker on his lapel with 10TH FLOOR written on it.
"Oh, hey," he said, looking somewhat embarrassed.
"Don't tell us…" Bliss said, grinning. "Jack Force, super-model! Can you show us Blue Steel?" she joked, quoting from Zoolander.
"Shhhh," Jack said, smiling sheepishly. "It's not my idea. But they need guys for some upcoming shoot. Chantal's a friend of my mom's, and well, here I am.”
"We just saw Chantal," Bliss said, keeping the conversation afloat since Schuyler was too shy to speak to him directly.
"So I guess I'll see you guys at the shoot." Jack grinned.
"Yeah right," Bliss said. "I don't think so. I fainted when she took my picture, and Schuyler didn't even get a Polaroid. I don't think there's any chance of either of us getting picked.”
It was difficult to determine who looked more disappointed Jack or Schuyler—as the elevator doors shut.
TWENTY-FIVE
"On the first floor, past the Temple of Dendur, among the sarcophagi in the Egyptian antiquities section, there is a gold and lapis snake bracelet that once belonged to Hatshepsut. I would like you to bring it back to me," Lawrence said, holding up a stopwatch. Schuyler and her grandfather were standing in his study, one of the many rooms that Lawrence's return had opened.
Already, her grandfather had commissioned contractors and architects to restore the mansion to its former glory, and the sound of construction on the facade—drilling, pounding, hammering was a daily disturbance. But the inside of Lawrence's study was as soundproof and quiet as a tomb.
It was the third day of her training. A week ago, Lawrence had been appalled to discover that The Committee had done almost nothing to teach the newest crop of vampires how to control and use their powers. Schuyler told him that the most they ever did was read a bunch of books and meditate.
"No one has undertaken a Velox test?" he had asked, raising his eyebrow in consternation.
Schuyler shook her head. "What's that?”
"Or learned the four factors of the glom?”
"No." Schuyler shook her head.
"Then none of you have any idea how to counter a Silver Blood attack," Lawrence said testily.
"Um. No.”
Lawrence was greatly disturbed, and with the clock ticking—Charles Force's adoption petition was winding its way through the family court bureaucracy—who knew how much time they would have together?—Vampire lessons had formally begun. "If you want to know how to defeat the Silver Bloods, and find out who or what is responsible for their return, you will have to learn how to use your Blue Blood knowledge and abilities first.”
Her grandfather had decided to begin with the Velox, or speed test.
"Being swift is not enough," Lawrence lectured. "You must be so fast that you are undetectable. So fast that you do not set off alarms. So fast that no one can see you. Most Red Bloods think of this as "invisibility." But this is not a real trait. In fact, there is no such thing as invisibility. It is just that we are so fast, we are undetectable to the human eye. Once you master the art of Velox, you will be able to be anywhere you want in a blink of an eye. The Silver Bloods are swift—that is one of their greatest powers. So you must be faster than they, if you are to survive.”
He gave her the instructions on how to find the bracelet in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Snake bracelet. Gold and lapis. First floor. Egyptian antiquities. Among the sarcophagi.
"Go," Lawrence said, holding up the stopwatch. Schuyler disappeared.
Before it had even clicked to the next second, Schuyler had reappeared.
"Better," he said. Several days ago, it had taken her two minutes to complete the task.
Schuyler held up the bracelet. She had picked the lock on the case so expeditiously that the alarm had not had time to register a disturbance.
Lawrence allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "Now return it.”
The next day, Schuyler was exhausted from the effort yesterday's lesson had required, yet she managed to hide it. There was little time for weakness; she wanted to forge ahead without Lawrence worrying about what it was costing her. She was eager to learn the tenets of animadverto, or "intelligent sight.”
"The vampire trait of animadverto is another one that is founded in myth and m
isunderstanding," Lawrence lectured. "Humans think that we have the capacity of infinite knowledge, when in fact all we have is a perfect photographic memory. If you exercise this ability, you will be like me, able to quote verbatim from every book you have ever read in your entire lifetime.
"The library of Alexandria has been lost to humankind for centuries, but thankfully, I was a voracious reader even then," Lawrence said, pointing to his head. "It is all in here.”
"Why would we need to know all this? How is this helpful to defeating the Silver Bloods?" Schuyler asked.
"The Silver Bloods put no value on learning, and those who do not learn history are condemned to repeat it. It is imperative that we find traces, clues, to their operations by immersing ourselves in the history of the world. Perhaps then one of us will successfully figure out the mystery of their continued existence.”
He gestured to the entire thirty-book Encyclopaedia Britannica. "Take a mental snapshot of each page. Catalog it in your memory. With your speed, this should take you less than five minutes. But I will give you an hour." Lawrence left the study and closed the door behind him.
At the appointed hour, Lawrence came back to find Schuyler splayed on the couch, napping.
"Finished?”
"Fifty-five minutes ago." Schuyler grinned.
"Fine. Give me their definition of the Egyptian reanimation rite.”
Schuyler closed her eyes and spoke in a slow, measured voice, almost as if she were reading from the page. "The rite to prepare the deceased for afterlife, performed on statues of the deceased, the mummy itself, or statues of a god located in a temple. An important element of the ceremony was the ritual opening of the mouth so the mummy might breathe and eat. The rite, which symbolized the death and regeneration concept of the Osiris myth, in which the dismembered…”
"Excellent," Lawrence praised. "You are doing very well for your age. Very well indeed.
It is impressive. I had thought that with your mixed blood, the vampire strength would be diluted, but instead it is even more tenacious.”
"Grandfather?" Schuyler asked hesitantly as she helped him put the encyclopedia volumes back on their proper shelf.
"Yes?”
"If vampires can do this. Why do we need to go to school? I mean, is it really necessary?”
"Of course," Lawrence replied. "What we are doing here is merely rote memory. School teaches a different skill set entirely: socialization, debate, learning to mix with humans. One must not alienate oneself from the mainstream. Blue Bloods must understand their place in the world before we can attempt to change it. You may be able to call up the entire encyclopedia, but a brain with no heart and no reasoning…well, nothing is more meaningless.”
Schuyler began to look forward to the tests every afternoon. Lawrence presented her with the hardest one yet at the end of the week.
"You have heard of the glom," Lawrence said. "The ability to control human minds.”
"Yes." Schuyler said. "One of the most dangerous arts, Priscilla DuPont said. Best that we do not attempt it until we are of age.”
"Ridiculous. You need to learn it now, to protect yourself from its seductive effects. Because the glom also works on Blue Bloods. It is a pernicious Silver Blood technique.”
Schuyler shuddered.
"So you must learn how to control it, and defend yourself against it. We shall try the first one, before I can prepare you for the second." Lawrence decided. "There are four factors to the glom. The first one is merely telepathy. The ability to read minds. To read another's thoughts, one must concentrate on their energy—and strive to understand its source. A mind is like a puzzle; you must unlock it to read its hidden secrets.”
"Anderson, come in here, please.”
The white-haired gentleman entered the room. "Yes?”
“Anderson has been trained to resist the glom. He must, if he is going to be a good Conduit. One cannot have a vampire's assistant corrupted.”
For the next three hours, Schuyler sat on one end of a table, Anderson sat at the other.
Lawrence would hold up a flash card to show Anderson, and Schuyler had to guess what was on the flash card.
What is he thinking? She focused on his signal, but all she got was static, a dense gray fog.
"Queen of hearts?" Schuyler asked.
Lawrence showed her an ace of spades.
"Ten of clubs?”
Three of diamonds.
And so it went. The gray fog did not lift. Schuyler felt depressed. After her success on the Velox and the aminadverto, she was certain mastering the glom would be just as straightforward.
Anderson was excused, and Schuyler was left alone with her grandfather.
"It is a hard one." Lawrence consoled, shuffling the cards and stacking them back in their case.
Schuyler nodded. "But it seems so easy," she said, mentioning how she could read Oliver's thoughts with no trouble.
"He is unprotected. Remind me, we will have to train him as well if he is going to be an effective Conduit.”
Schuyler nodded. The effort to master the glom had taken a lot of her energy, and she felt dizzy and tired all of a sudden.
"Are you all right?" Lawrence asked, concerned.
She waved her hand away. Schuyler never admitted it to her grandfather, but sometimes after completing the tests, she was so weak she could barely stand.
TWENTY-SIX
Their meeting in the Repository had been purely accidental. Schuyler was there to read as many books as possible on Lawrence's instructions and had been pleasantly surprised to find Jack studying at one of the desks.
"Oh, hey." He grinned, raking a hand through his hair and motioning for her to take the seat across from him. "What are you reading? The Trial?" he asked, showing her his copy.
She nodded. They had been assigned the Kafka tome in their AP English class. It was one of the several books she had in her stack.
"Silly love story, don't you think?" he asked, paging through the yellowed leaves in his book, which Schuyler noticed was well worn and dog-eared.
"Love story?" She made a face. "Isn't the book about the tyranny of justice? The absurd nature of bureaucracy? We never know what he's on trial for, after all.”
"I disagree. And since Kafka never wanted the book to be published, who's to say what it's really about?" Jack asked in a slightly teasing tone. "I read that it's about his failed courtship and engagement to Felice Bauer. Which means it's not about the law at all, but about a man who's frustrated in love….”
"Oh, Jack…" Schuyler sighed. She wasn't sure if he was pulling her leg or not, but she was enjoying their banter. It hadn't been clear until then whether they would ever be able to mend the budding friendship, or whatever it was that had started between them and then ended so abruptly last semester. But it looked as if Jack might not be too put off from trying again. Not that it meant anything. He was still Mimi Force's brother.
"Maybe my book has something yours doesn't," Jack said, pushing his copy over. "Here, let me take yours." He said. "Yours has a better cover anyway.”
Schuyler picked up his book, inhaling its mildewy scent. She found the page where she had left off and began to read.
Boring old place, Mimi thought, as she followed Kingsley down the stairs into the Repository of History, The Committee's headquarters and the coven's main library located underneath Block 122, the superexclusive nightclub open to Blue Bloods and their guests only.
Kingsley had become a friend, someone who shared Mimi's sense of wickedness. The incident with the boy on the balcony had been the start of their alliance. Kingsley represented everything Mimi admired in a vampire—the desire to use power. Privately, she agreed with Kingsley: The Committee was much too cautious, and she chafed against its stringent rules. Why not use their strength to dominate humans? What good was reading someone's mind if you couldn't use it for material or emotional gain? Why not feed on more than one familiar at a time?
Why not flaunt their superior s
tatus instead of trying to blend in with the mortal world?
He had asked her to come with him to the Repository so he could show her something cool, and he had disappeared into the stacks to find it.
She looked around the cavernous old room. Several pathetic humans, former Conduits no longer attached to vampire families, were working diligently in their carrels.
Mimi took a seat at one of the large reading tables in the middle of the room, drumming her fingers impatiently.
The soft sound of conversation drifted to her ears from behind a row of books.
"There's nothing about love in here, Jack," a girl was saying. "Maybe you're the one being absurd.”
"Are you sure? You should look harder, maybe you're not reading it closely enough," he countered.
Mimi gritted her teeth. That was the Van Alen mouse again, talking to her brother. She stood up and cleared her throat, peering over the low shelves at the two of them.
Jack and Schuyler immediately moved away from each other.
"I'll, uh, see you later," Schuyler said, taking her books and walking over to a different desk, not realizing she still had his copy.
"Oh, hi," Jack said, turning in his seat to smile at his sister. "I didn't even know you knew the way to this place.”
"Don't you underestimate me, Benjamin Force. For your information, I'm a huge reader," Mimi sniffed.
Jack grinned. Liar, he sent.
You're the liar, she sent back.
He made a conciliatory gesture. Forgive me.
Always. Mimi's face softened.
I'm off. I'll see you at home.
Bye.
Mimi watched him leave, but even with his gentle thoughts imprinted on her mind, she couldn't help but feel troubled. Why was Schuyler still a factor? There was something about that girl that was keeping her brother off balance, she could feel it. She could sense his desire to commit himself to their bond, but it was almost as if he were convincing himself to fall in love with her against his will. Why? It had never been like this before. In every cycle, the two of them had reaffirmed their bond without any complications.
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