Blue Bloods (16 page)

“Our kind?”Schuyler asked.

Ankalaughed, and flashed her fangs at them.

“You’re Blue Bloods!” Bliss gasped.

“Of course.”Jonas nodded, amused. “Most people in fashion are. Haven’t you noticed?”

“How can you tell?”

“You just know—in the shape of the eyes and a certain overall bone structure,” Jonas explained.

“Plus, we’re also really, really picky. Just look at Brannon Frost, the editor-in-chief of Chic.

Hello.”

“She’s a vampire?” Bliss goggled. But then, it made so much sense—the frail figure, the dark oversized sunglasses, the pale skin, the rigorous dedication to perfection.

“Who else?”Schuyler asked.

Jonas rattled off several more names: a popular “bad-boy” designer who had recently revitalized the goth -grunge look, a model who was the current face of a lingerie com pany, an acclaimed makeup artist who popularized blue nail polish. “There are tons,” he said, tossing his cigarette off the balcony.

They changed the subject when several people from the crew came out to join them, and Jonas started to tell a series of raunchy jokes that only Perfection could match in gross ness. Schuyler laughed with all the rest, feeling like she and Bliss were part of an ad hoc, slightly deranged family.

“Why isn’t Mimi here?” Schuyler asked suddenly. It didn’t make sense that she would have this experience while Mimi, who thrived on this kind of attention, had been left out.

Bliss suddenly laughed. She’d completely forgotten about Mimi. Mimi would die when she heard that Bliss and Schuyler had been chosen for the Stitched for Civilization campaign and not her!

“Yeah, where is Mimi?” Bliss asked.

Jonas scratched his head. Schuyler noticed the faded blue marks on his arms. “Mimi Force? We considered her for like, a second. Remember, Ank ? What happened with her?”

“Linda told me her day rate,” Anka said. “Apparently when she signed up, she told Linda she wouldn’t get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day. Sorry, girls, but without any experience, that’s just not realistic. I didn’t even make an offer. Besides, we wanted you two.”

“I guess sleep is just too important to her.” Bliss smirked. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Bliss gave Schuyler one of her rare, genuine smiles.

“Right.”Schuyler nodded.

Schuyler smiled back. She was starting to like Bliss Llewellyn even more.

They went back to the shoot, draping themselves over each other, and when Jonas shouted,

“Fire! Fire! Give me fire!” they practically burned the lens.

TWENTY-FIVE

They let her keep the jeans! Schuyler was thrilled.

The shoot ended late, way past the six o’clock end time, and by the time they were done it was dark outside. She said her good-byes in a flurry of air kisses, waving madly to every one at the corner. The merry gang dispersed— Ankaand the stylists disappearing in a Town Car, the hair and makeup crew into taxicabs, Jonas and his assistants to the nearest bar.

“Do you want a ride uptown?” Bliss asked. “My driver should be here shortly.”

Schuyler shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I think I’m going to walk a bit.” It was a nice night, cloudless and brisk.

Bliss shrugged. She was already sucking on a cigarette, and in her tight T-shirt, new jeans, and purple monkey-fur jacket, she looked every inch an off-duty model. “Suit your self. Don’t forget, mi casa, tonight at ten.”

Schuyler nodded. She hugged the plastic bag with her new jeans tightly. She was back to wearing her many layers—a black T-shirt over a black turtleneck over a black jersey skirt over a pair of gray jeans and white-and-black striped stockings, with her beat-up black combat boots.

She meant to walk east toward Seventh Avenue, and continue to stroll up through Times Square, Lincoln Center , and theUpper West Side on the way home.

As she walked east towardTenth Avenue , she felt a little wary. The streets were completely deserted; the warehouse buildings that housed new art galleries were dark and forbid ding. The streetlights flickered and there were puddles on the ground from a recent rainstorm. Schuyler suddenly wished she had taken Bliss up on the offer of a ride. Feeling anxious, she began walking faster toward the well-lit avenues. If she could only get to Ninth, with its coffeeshops and boutiques, she knew she would be safe.

She tried to shake the fear off, thinking it was merely paranoia from the dark—and who was she to be afraid of the dark anyway? She was a vampire! She laughed ghoul ishly, but she felt a prickle of fear just the same.

She couldn’t deny it anymore.

Someone was following her.

Or some thing…

She broke out into a quick run, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and her breath coming in quick gasps. She turned around … .

A shadow against a wall.

Her shadow.She blinked. Nothing. There was nothing and no one. You’re just paranoid, you’re just paranoid, she told herself. She forced herself to walk slower, to show herself she wasn’t afraid.

Only a few more steps to the haven ofNinth Avenue … so close … she turned around one more time … and felt something reach around and grab her by the neck. She struggled to breathe, to open her eyes, to kick away, but she couldn’t scream; it was as if something had locked her throat and was squeezing it tightly. A dark, giant creature … tall and strong as a man, a dense and noxious presence with… crimson eyes, crimson eyes with silver pupils shining in the dark, staring at her … boring into her brain … and then she felt it… .

No! No! No!

She refused to believe it, but yes, there were fangs prick ing her skin—but how could it be? She was one of them! What was this?

With all the strength she had, she pushed back at her attacker—but she flailed, scratching at nothing it was like the wind had her in its grip—it was no use, the fangs came down stabbing her neck—her blood, her bright blue blood, seeping the life out of her…. She was dizzy and con fused … she was going to pass out—when a blue-black blur suddenly materialized, barking madly.

Beauty!

The bloodhound snarled and leaped at the dark creature. The monster released her, and Schuyler staggered onto the dirty sidewalk, clutching the side of her neck. Her blood hound ran in circles, snarling and barking loudly. The dark creature disappeared.

Beauty was still barking when Schuyler finally opened her eyes. Someone was holding her up.

“Are you okay?” Bliss Llewellyn asked.

“I don’t know,” Schuyler said, still in shock. She tried to regain her balance, leaning heavily on Bliss’s shoulder, her legs still shaking.

“Easy,” Bliss soothed.

Beauty was still barking, with loud, angry howls, and growling at Bliss.

“Heel, Beauty, heel, that’s Bliss, she’s my friend,” Schuyler said, putting an arm out to soothe the trembling dog. But the dog wouldn’t stop. Beauty ran around Bliss, nip ping her ankles.

“Ouch!”

“Beauty, that’s enough!” Schuyler said, taking Beauty’s collar roughly. Where had she come from? How had she known? Schuyler looked into the dog’s intelligent black eyes. You saved me, she thought.

“What happened?” Bliss asked again.

“I don’t know. I was just walking when something attacked me from behind….”

“I heard you,” Bliss said, her voice shaking. “I was waiting over there, outside the studio, for my car, when I heard you screaming down the block, so I ran over to help.”

Schuyler nodded, still dazed from the experience. Her bag and its contents were scattered around her—her books open and soaking in the puddles, her prized new jeans crum pled in a heap.

“What do you think it was?” Bliss asked, helping Schuyler gather her things and putting them back in her leather bag.

“I don’t know … it seemed … unreal,” Schuyler stam mered. She zipped up her bag and shouldered it roughly. She was still a bit unsteady on her feet, but holding Beauty’s leash made her feel better somehow. She felt stronger around the bloodhound, more substantial.

Already, the memory of the attack was staring to fade— a dark mass, with shining red eyes and silver pupils—and teeth, teeth sharp enough to puncture skin—fangs—just like hers—but when her fingers touched the side of her neck, there was nothing there anymore. Not a wound. Not even a scratch.

Catherine Carver’s Diary

23rd of December, 1620

Plymouth , Massachusetts

Alas! Alas! Everyone from Roanoke is disappeared. Myles and the men found nothing of the colony. The shelters had been dismantled, the animals nowhere in sight. There was nothing but a bare patch of field. Nothing remained of the settlement except for a lone sign nailed to a tree.

John showed it to me.

CROATAN

It chilled my blood to see it. Alas! Alas! It is true. We are cursed! They are here. All is lost! We weep for our kindred. But we must protect the children. We are not safe!

— C.C.

TWENTY-SIX

Ridiculous.It was one of Mimi’s favorite words.

Her python Birkin ?Ridiculous! Her father’s new G-5 jet? Ridiculous! Bliss Llwellyn’s house party? OTT, baby. Ridiculous to the max. There was nothing like a party to get her blood flowing. Mimi surveyed the crowded room. Almost everyone from The Committee was there, and a great selection of delicious-looking Red Bloods. She was glad she’d convinced Bliss to throw the party.

Things had been way too serious around school—what with midterms just around the corner, the seniors stressing about applications, the lingering sadness from Aggie’s funeral— and they all needed to relax. Bliss had been hesitant at first— badgering Mimi with a thousand petty concerns like, Will anyone show? What about food? Who’s going to buy the beer? What about the furniture? What if something happens to it? Some of it is really expensive! She had almost driven Mimi mad with all her angsting . “Leave it all in my capable hands,” Mimi finally told her friend.

So, in quick succession, Mimi commandeered an army of publicists and event planners to transform the Llewellyns ‘ triplex penthouse apartment into a bacchanalian haven— complete with a sponsored open bar (as if alcohol had any effect on them anyway), a crew of models holding serving trays bearing bite-size edibles (potatoes stuffed with caviar, lobster timbale, and shrimp cocktail), and slew of brightly colored goodie bags stuffed with a full line of luxurious bath products. Mimi had even hired a crew of reflexologists , aromatherapists , and Swedish masseurs to give foot, hand, and back massages to the guests. The white-clad “pamper police”

were busy at work kneading, chopping, and relieving the stressed-out muscles of the private school elite.

Bliss arrived home to find all the furniture on the down stairs floor replaced with zebra-pint couches, shag rugs, and Aero lamps. A DJ was setting up in front of the fireplace.

“Don’t freak, okay?” Mimi said, holding up a hand in front of Bliss’s face.

“What the f—?” Bliss asked, looking around at the total transformation of her parents’ home into a groovy ‘60s-style nightclub.

Mimi explained she’d had all of Bliss’s parents’ things secured and transferred to a storage location, and that every thing would be put back tomorrow morning before they got home. She’d gotten the idea from one of the design magazines, suggesting an empty house was the perfect place for a party.

“Am I a genius or what? This way, you don’t have to worry about anything being stolen or broken,” Mimi assured. “Where have you been, anyway? You’re late!”

Bliss shook her head, aghast. She wondered what her stepmother would say if she knew everything in her precious Penthouse des Rêves was inJersey somewhere. She gaped at Mimi for a second, threw her hands up in resignation, and headed to her room to change.

“You’re welcome!” Mimi called.

The latest smashcut remix (Destiny’s Child vs. Nirvana) was blasting from the Llewellyns ‘

surround-sound stereo system. Mimi smiled to herself in the dark. She wet her lips, which shone brightly with blood. Her Italian boyfriend was somewhere, passed out as usual.

” Lycheemartini?” a waitress asked, offering her a cocktail.

The perfect chaser.Mimi smiled and emptied its contents. Then she took another and another, while the confused server just stared at her.

“Thirsty?” a voice behind her asked.

Mimi turned around.

Dylan Ward was watching her, his dark hair masking his eyes. The same feeling of dread came over her. “What’s it to you?” she sneered.

Dylan shrugged.

Mimi walked over to him. She was wearing a cropped red leather Dsquared jacket and a vented chiffon Balenciaga skirt that hugged her curves. It annoyed her that Dylan didn’t even notice how good her legs looked in that skirt. There was something impudent about that. As if he didn’t even care what she looked like. Blasphemy! She checked his neck. So far, no sign that Bliss had tried to seal their bond. Mimi smiled to herself. An idea formed in her head. Now, this could be fun.

If she performed the Caerimonia Osculor on Dylan before Bliss did, he would be bound to her forever. He would forget all about Bliss. That would serve Bliss right for continuing to see him after Mimi had forbade her to do so. Not that she was even interested in Dylan or anything, she was just bored.

She lowered her lashes flirtatiously. “Help me with some thing?” she asked, leading him away from the party.

In the shadows, she looked like a helpless beautiful girl, and without even thinking about it, Dylan found himself automatically following her farther and farther, deeper into the dark.

“But she invited me! I know the owner of this apartment!” Schuyler argued. She’d never even heard of a guest list for a house party. But then again, she’d never been invited to one. The elevator had opened to the lowest floor of the apart ment, and Schuyler found her way barred by a cadre of stony-faced PR girls.

“Did you RSVP?” one of them demanded, snapping her gum and looking balefully at Schuyler’s mismatched out fit. She was wearing a flowing tunic with layers of plastic beads, denim shorts over black leggings, and scuffed cowboy boots.

“I only heard about it today,” Schuyler groaned.