Masquerade (19 page)

T
he condemnation was held in one of the ancient rooms deep inside the Ducal Palace and began with a formal pronouncement of the sentence. Mimi Force was led to the front of the room in shackles. A black robe had been placed on her shoulders, and her blond hair was covered by its hood. The Conclave of Elders stood in a semicircle around her. The Chief Warden had finished describing the process when Lawrence halted the proceedings. “As Regis, I have cause to call for a blood trial to refute or confirm the findings in the Conclave session.” “Blood trial?” Edmund Oelrich, the Chief Warden, asked. “But surely, there is no way. Allegra is still asleep, is she not?” Charles Force, who was seated in the front next to his son, leaped up. “I second the motion for the blood trial.”

“Lawrence, is this wise? What are you talking about?” Nan Cutler asked.

“Allegra’s daughter, Schuyler Van Alen, has volunteered to perform the ritual.” Lawrence called for Schuyler to come forward.

“The half-blood?” Forsyth Llewellyn exclaimed. “I oppose this! How do we know she is worthy?”

“Allegra’s daughter?” another Elder asked.

“She is gifted with powers far beyond the norm, and I am confident she will be able to carry out this task.”

The Conclave murmured, and a stay of execution was granted while they convened on this new development in another room. A few hours later, the Conclave returned. Finally, the Chief Warden spoke.

“The blood trial will be borne out.”

Mimi and Schuyler were led to a small cell next to the courtroom. Lawrence patted Schuyler on the back. “Be safe, and remember what I told you.”

When they were alone, Mimi pulled the hood off her head and looked at Schuyler with distaste. “You.”

“Me.”

“I don’t need you. I’d rather die.”

“Would you? Because that’s certainly the other option,” Schuyler snapped.

Mimi flushed. “My brother put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Yes. It’s him you’ll have to thank for your life, if indeed you are proved innocent,” Schuyler replied.

Mimi crossed her arms and studied her cuticles. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Mimi lifted her chin and closed her eyes. Schuyler stood on her tiptoes and put her mouth on Mimi’s neck. She sank her fangs in . . . and just as with Oliver, she was transported into the past . . . seeing what was inside Mimi’s memories . . . flying back to the night of the attack.

The dark underground of the Repository. Mimi and Kingsley laughing over the book. Standing inside the pentagram, the candle flickering and casting their shadows against the stone walls.

Mimi slicing her wrist, sending the blood over the flame and calling the words.

But then . . . nothing happened.

Mimi had fainted, but the spell had not worked.

She had been unable to summon the hatred needed to bring out the Silver Blood.

But Mimi had not been rendered unconscious, just disoriented. She had witnessed the events that unfolded next, but the memory of it remained in her subconcious, which is why she had not been able to recall it to prove her innocence. Now, through the blood trial, Schuyler was able to see what had really happened.

Kingsley cursed and picked up the knife. He sliced his wrist and called out the summons in a strong, deep voice.

There was a rip in the ground: the earthquake, the flame that shot out. Smoke filled the air, and suddenly there was a hulking dark mass going straight for Bliss Llewellyn and then killing Priscilla Dupont.

In the resulting confusion, Kingsley helped Mimi stand, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Schuyler felt a cold pressing on the back of her neck just as Mimi had experienced.

Then Kingsley pushed Mimi out of the alcove and ran to the Repository, pretending to be pinned by a bookcase.

It was Kingsley all along.

Schuyler gurgled, feeding on Mimi’s blood. She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t. She wanted to
see
, wanted to devour all of Mimi’s memories. She saw something else: the night of the Four Hundred Ball. The after-party at the Angel Orensanz Foundation. Jack Force, putting on the black mask worn by the boy who had kissed her that evening.

So it had been Jack who kissed her after all.

The realization made her lose her hold on Mimi, and she stepped away, disengaging her fangs. The call of the blood had been strong—she had been tempted to take Mimi to full consumption, to
become
Mimi, to absorb all her memories and her being. But the shock of seeing Jack in the mask had saved her from becoming Abomination.

Schuyler staggered against the wall, feeling faint and delirious, while Mimi swooned and fell onto the nearest chair.

* * *

When she found her bearings, Schuyler returned to address the Conclave.

“Mimi is innocent,” she said, and just as Lawrence had shown her, she held their minds in her own and showed them what she had seen in the blood memory, projecting the vision of Kingsley Martin calling up the Silver Blood to everyone in the room.

M
imi was released to her family, and Schuyler
waited with her grandfather at the entrance of the
Ducal Palace for their speedboat to arrive.
“Are they going to arrest the Martins?” Schuyler
asked.
Lawrence looked up to the sky. “Yes, a team of
Venator
s
was already sent to their town house. But they won’t find
them there.”
“Why not?”
“Because they will already have disappeared,” Lawrence
said. “It will not be easy to catch them.”
“Did you know?”
“Not until you read the truth in the blood memory. I suspected, but I did not know. It is not the same thing.”
“So why did you do nothing?”
“Nothing?” Lawrence asked with a smile. “I saved an
innocent girl from death. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

“But you should have sent someone to Kingsley’s . . .”

“Not without proof.”

“But you waited—and they are gone.”

Lawrence nodded. “Yes, they are gone. But at least we know we were on the right track. Priscilla Dupont was killed not just as a show of their growing power, but because she had come close to discovering who was harboring the Silver Blood on the Conclave. In fact, she was about to confront the perpetrator when the explosion happened.”

“She was going to name the Martins?”

“I believe so.”

“So what does that prove?”

“It proves Cordelia and I were right all along.”

“But with the Martins gone . . .”

“The Martins were not the only suspects,” Lawrence said. “They were merely foot soldiers, pawns, made to do the bidding of their masters. If what she told me is true, there is another family, still in the dark, who harbors the Silver Blood, who has been instrumental in bringing about Lucifer’s return.”

“Who?”

“That, Schuyler, is what we have to find out.”

Schuyler processed this information. The Martins had shown their hand, but there was still a puppet master offstage manipulating the strings. She thought of the files Priscilla Dupont had collected before she had died.

“Grandfather, whatever happened to Maggie Stanford? Does anyone know?”

Lawrence shook his head. “No.”

The Forces—Charles, Jack, and Mimi—walked out of the courtroom together. Relief was evident in all of their faces.

Jack approached Schuyler. “Thank you,” he said simply.

You kissed me, Schuyler thought. She remembered what else he had said that night . . .
How do you know he’s not inter
ested? You might be surprised.

Did he know she knew?

She wanted to touch his cheek, to kiss his soft skin again, but she saw Mimi scowling. Even if Mimi Force owed her her life, it didn’t mean she was going to be nice to Schuyler any time soon.

“You’re welcome,” she told Jack.

Charles joined them. “When we return to New York, I’ll have my driver come by and pick up your belongings. We’ve already cleared the guest bedroom for you. I think you’ll find it to your liking.”

“What are you talking about?” Schuyler asked.

“Yeah, Dad, what the hell?” Mimi interrupted.

“Your grandfather has failed to mention it, I see.” Charles smiled grimly. “Lawrence, you might have won the leadership of the Coven, but I have won the adoption battle. Schuyler, the Red Blood courts have decided, in their infinite wisdom, to put you in my custody.”

“Grandfather . . .”

“It’s true. The appeals have been rejected,” Lawrence said, his head bowed low. “Charles, I did not realize you would insist on this. I’m sorry, Schuyler. I’ll continue to fight it, but for now, you’re going to have to live with the Forces. Charles, there is no need to send for Schuyler. I will drop her off myself.”

Mimi glared at Schuyler, while Jack only looked shocked.

Live with them?

Were they crazy?

Schuyler looked from one twin to the other, and realized she had just survived the blood trial only to find herself facing a new and more complicated challenge.

C
oming back home to her stepmother’s Penthouse des Rêves was a bit of a letdown after the pampering at Dr. Pat’s clinic. Bliss had finally been discharged after several weeks, after being kept in observation to make sure she had stabilized and displayed no signs of corruption. She wondered what they were waiting for her to do—attack them? Slash her wrists? The nurses at the clinic acted as if they were afraid to come too near, lest something happen. It was the first day of ski week, and usually the family would be on a plane to Gstaad by now, but Conclave matters had called her father to Venice. BobiAnne had gone with him, but only so she could hit the shops on Via Condotti in Rome. Jordan had accompanied their parents as well, since it was decided she was too young to be left behind. While Bliss was still recovering, she was left in the care of the household staff. Bliss had been at home during Mimi’s trial and sentencing, but she was certain Mimi would come to no harm. It was just too easy to imagine a life without Mimi Force’s dictatorial ways, and there was no way the universe would be so kind as to get rid of her.

Bliss was bored and alone in the apartment and decided to clean out her closet for want of something better to do. Maybe perform that spring-cleaning ritual women’s magazines always advised: throw out clothes you hadn’t worn in two years, or those that were too shabby or didn’t fit any more—that sort of thing.

She was pulling out an old cable-knit sweater when a long velvet box tumbled to the floor and a necklace fell out of it.

It was the emerald. She had forgotten to return it to her father for safekeeping in the vault after the Four Hundred Ball. Bliss picked it up, still feeling wary at the story behind the jewel. Lucifer’s Bane indeed. As she tucked it back into the box, a picture slipped out from underneath the velvet pillow.

Bliss reached down to pick it up, studying it. It was a picture of her father, looking young and slim in a hunting jacket and boots, with a woman at his side whom Bliss had always assumed was her mother. Her father kept a faded copy of the picture in his wallet. This one was more well preserved. Bliss noted her mother’s long blond hair and large, doelike eyes. Bliss’s eyes, her father always said. You have your mother’s eyes. Her mother’s eyes were green, like hers, as green as the emerald she held in her hand.

Bliss turned over the picture.

Forsyth Llewellyn and Allegra Van Alen, 1982.

Allegra Van Alen?

Wasn’t that Schuyler’s mother?

It must be a mistake. Her mother’s name was Charlotte Potter.

What was that all about?

Bliss was still puzzling over the strange inscription when there was a crash at the window. Glass shattered at her feet and Bliss ran over to see what had happened.

The boy was shivering in the corner, his feet bleeding from the cut glass. He was wearing the same T-shirt and jeans she had last seen him in. His dark hair was wet and matted, but he looked at her with the same sad, hangdog eyes.

Dylan! It was truly him. He was alive.

He glanced up, his breathing shallow and ragged.

She ran toward him, still holding the emerald in her hand.

Dylan looked at Bliss, then flinched when he saw what she held aloft, almost as if it had hurt him.

“You’re alive!” Bliss said joyfully. “But you’re hurt—let me help you.”

Dylan shook his head. “There’s no time for that now. I know who the Silver Blood is.”

New York Herald

Archives

NOVEMBER 23, 1872
MISSING HEIRESS FOUND DEAD IN THE RIVER

New York police discover the body of Maggie Stanford
two years after she was first reported missing.
A suspicion of foul play. Corpse found then missing again.

THE BODY OF A WELL-DRESSED and pretty woman was found this morning floating in the Hudson River. Policeman Charles Langford discovered the body at six o’clock this morning and reported the matter to the Tenth Precinct. The body was taken from the water and carried to the station house. There were marks on her head and body, which led the police to believe that the woman was foully dealt with. She had red hair, green eyes, and was dressed in a white silk ball gown trimmed with pink ribbons. In their efforts to establish the identity of the woman, the police found a white linen handkerchief which bore the initials “M.S.” in the pocket of the dress.

The body was subsequently identified as that of Maggie Stanford, the daughter of deceased oil baron Tiberius Stanford and Dorothea Stanford, who passed away two months ago from dementia resulting from her daughter’s disappearance. The clothes Maggie Stanford had reportedly worn to the Patrician Ball the night she went missing match the description of the ball gown worn by the dead woman. The body was inordinately well preserved, with almost no sign of decomposition. The body was sent to the hospital for further examination, but the next day it was reported missing from the morgue. The police continue to be baffled by this strange case.