You kissed me, Schuyler thought. She remembered what else he had said that night . . . How do you know he’s not interested? 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.
FORTYEIGHT
Coming 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
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