CHAPTER 21
Schuyler
"It's this way," Jack said. "When I was a kid, the cooks used to chase me out of here."
He showed Schuyler the secret passageways that twisted through the building's vast storerooms underneath the castle. Historically, the home had been built to accommodate an entire court of nobles. There was a full servants' wing, and the kitchens and pantries went down three levels. When the count was still alive, the royal couple had hosted lavish month long parties for guests and their entourages.
The castle was meant to sustain what had become an increasingly outdated, not to mention incredibly expensive, lifestyle. No wonder the developers planned to chop it up into apartments. Living with a staff of sixty had become untenable even to the countess, who was moving to her villa in Saint-Tropez with a much more moderate household.
But while the property boasted dozens of hidden rooms and mazelike passageways, in the end there was only one way out of the H'tel Lambert. Everyone, from the highest ranking nobleman to the humblest kitchen steward, had to go through the central courtyard and out the main gates. Jack and Schuyler found they didn't have a choice: they would have to walk through the vipers' nest to freedom.
The staircase from the servants' quarters led straight into the main hall, where Jack and Schuyler could hear the sounds of hysterical laughter and uncontrollable gaiety, which sounded more overwrought and frantic as the dizzying music gained speed and volume.
"What are they doing?" Schuyler whispered as they huddled behind one of the fluted columns. "Why do I feel... like... like I want to... to hurt someone?"
"It's what the Silver Bloods do, they "push", they use the glom like we do, except they push in the opposite direction. They bring out the worst in people."
"Shouldn't we warn everyone?" she asked.
"This isn't Rio. There are too many of us to overpower; the Silver Bloods will not risk anything more dangerous than compulsion. They are only here for you," Jack said, trying to blunt the difficulty of their situation with another reassuring smile.
Schuyler did not want to be swallowed up by her fear, and steadied herself by concentrating on fighting the rising overwhelming sickness she felt from the Silver Bloods' spell.
They had to find Oliver, and then they had to get out of here as quietly as possible. She had made a huge ruckus in running away from Jack, but the over-the-top antics of the Bollywood musical numbers had covered up most of that. The guests had figured she was part of the show, especially given the way she was dressed. In her sari she had blended right in.
"Here," Jack said, handing her a small silver crucifix on a chain. "It should help." He pulled out a similar one from underneath his shirt. "Part of the Venator uniform."
They crept out to the garden and found Oliver standing by himself under a majestic beech tree, holding a drink. If he was surprised to see Schuyler with Jack, he didn't show it except for a slight raise of his eyebrows, although it pained Schuyler to notice that a little light went out in his eyes when he saw them together.
It's not what you think, she wanted to tell him. I love you.
Regardless, when Oliver turned to Jack, he was genial and gave him an overly hearty handshake.
"Good to see you, man. Been a long time."
For his part, Jack shook Oliver's hand with a firm grip. The two of them were intent on acting as if they had bumped into each other at the Senior Fling. Just a bunch of Upper East Side preppies catching up on news and gossip.
"So what brings you here, Force? Not the Committee I hope," Oliver said, his light tone masking a wary undercurrent.
"Not at all," Jack said, as Schuyler quickly brought Oliver up to speed. Once apprised, Oliver immediately understood the danger they were in.
"So, what do you guys have in mind?" he asked them. "I have a feeling we're not going to be able to get out of here quietly."
"So far they haven't noticed that Schuyler is not in that room waiting for the countess anymore," Jack said, looking around. "I think we can make it to Lu?" But before Jack could finish his sentence, he stopped, looking up with a startled expression on his face.
Schuyler glanced over his shoulder. The Baron de Coubertin had reappeared on the other side of the courtyard. But there was something different about him. Changed. Even from afar, Schuyler could see that his eyes were rimmed in crimson fire. Silver pupils.
Leviathan.
He stood immobile, scanning the room with those dreadful silver eyes. Schuyler turned to Oliver and saw that he had noticed him too. Oliver's face was ashen.
"I let you go off with him, I was so stupid, I knew something was wrong.... When I spoke to him at the boat he was different, jolly even. I should have known something wasn't right."
"I didn't see it either, Ollie. There's no way you would have known," she said. Silver Bloods were agile shape shifters, Schuyler remembered her grandfather telling her. Leviathan had locked her in that room, probably intending to dispose of her later. She shuddered to think of what they were planning to do with her.
"Listen, I'll only slow you down, but maybe I can slow them down," Oliver said, taking off his turban and throwing it on the ground.
"No!" Schuyler said. "We're getting out of this together or we're not getting out at all! Oliver! Listen to me?" she begged, a dawning horror as she realized what he was planning to do.
"Too late," Oliver said as he picked up a nearby torch and ran toward the entrance guarded by the elephants.
"Come and get me!" he cried, waving it back and forth in a crazed manner. The elephants reared back on their hind legs, throwing off the King and Queen of Siam, and ran amuck through the bushes, chasing Oliver. The mahouts yelled, and befuddled party guests ran in every direction, trying to get away from the rampaging beasts.
"Quick?" Jack said. "Before they close the gates." He held out his hand.
"But... Oliver?" Schuyler lurched around. "Oliver, no! Oliver?"
"He's human; they don't want him, Schuyler, We've got to get you out of here! Please!" Jack said, holding out his hand.
"No! I can't! I can't leave him!" She watched as Oliver ran farther and farther away, the elephants charging right behind him.
But staying there wouldn't help Oliver. Not right now. And she was just putting them in more danger by hesitating. She wanted to run after Oliver, but she let Jack lead her away. They ran, ducking confused torchbearers and catering staff, dodging rampaging elephants, screaming party guests, and dazed servers. She could feel the wrath of the demon Leviathan, could feel his eyes boring at the back of her skull, a heavy, deliberate malevolence.
In a moment he would be upon them.
But unlike fighting, running was something Schuyler could do well, and together she and Jack flew across the cobbled courtyard and through the main gates. She looked over her shoulder one last time and caught a glimpse of Oliver's raised arm as he disappeared into the rioting throng. He was waving good-bye.
CHAPTER 22
Bliss
The fashion show went well. Bliss managed to do her two turns on the runway without incident, even though she was still rattled by hearing the Visitor's menacing voice in her head. What was he planning? What did he mean 'they will be easy enough to overcome...'
But then, she knew what he'd meant, didn't she? Wasn't she just in denial about everything? Because there had to be a reason for the Visitor's presence in her life; it wasn't as if he was just hanging around so he could get to know his dear daughter better, was he? There was a reason he was here.
And whatever reason that was, she was involved because, for all intents and purposes, she was him. Whatever the Visitor did or did not do, they wouldn't see Lucifer behind it, they would only see Bliss. Well, maybe she could do something about it. Maybe she should make the effort to find out what the Visitor was doing when he was away.
Maybe it would be a good idea not to be left in the dark so much. She massaged her temples. Thankfully, most of the other models had left her alone. They knew her story, and no one ventured to give her more than a few sympathetic looks. Bliss thought she might as well have the word 'SURVIVOR' stamped on her forehead from the way the girls whispered about her.
Stepmother murdered. Sister missing... presumed killed... Awful... These things do happen in Rio, don't they? Bliss thought that was terribly unfair. What had happened to her family had nothing to do with the country they were in, but of course she couldn't tell anyone that. She just wanted to get out here.
She changed out of her final outfit, a tulle ball gown that some grande dame would wear to the opening of the ballet in the fall, and put her plain white sundress back on. She was walking across the green lawn, ducking a few familiar faces and hoping she could just get back home without having to talk to anyone, when she heard her name being called.
"Bliss? Is that you? Hey?" A pretty girl with long blond hair, wearing a floppy straw hat and a chic one-shouldered dress, walked over. Bliss recognized the girl immediately. She was Allison Ellison, or Ally Elli, as she was called, one of the Red Bloods from Duchesne.
Ally was a scholarship kid; her parents lived in Queens or something, and she had to take some kind of two-hour bus to get to school. Bliss had assumed that meant Ally would be terribly unpopular, but she was the complete opposite. The Upper East Side kids dug her crazy outerborough stories and her funny way of looking at things. Bliss remembered that one time she and Mimi and a large group of people went out with Ally, and Ally made sure everyone paid exactly what they owed at the table, down to the last cent. No one got away with the whole "I forgot my wallet; you know you can hit me up next time? crap that trust-fund kids like Mimi always pulled.
It was one thing to see Ally at school, and another to see her at Muffie Astor Carter's annual Shopping, Champagne, and Charity party. What was she doing here, wearing an original Balthazar Verdugo, sure to have cost five figures at least, looking like she had always summered in Southampton?
Bliss got her answer when Jamie Kip came up to give Ally a hug. So. Ally was a human familiar to one of the most popular Blue Blood boys. Now Ally's expensive outfit and presence at the party made sense. "Hey, Ally." Bliss nodded. "Jamie."
Jamie excused himself with a cough, and the two girls were left alone. "How are you?" Allison asked. "It's good to see you again." The pretty blonde put a hand on Bliss's arm.
Bliss was touched by the unexpected warmth in Ally's voice. "I'm okay.... Thanks," she told her.
"We missed you at Dylan's memorial service," Allison said. "But don't worry, no one expected you or anything. Your dad said you needed to rest."
"Memorial? There was a memorial? For Dylan? When?" Bliss asked, trying not to sound like she was about to freak out.
Allison looked uncomfortable. "Almost a year ago now. Yeah, I know. Weird, right? I mean, the guy disappeared, right? Supposedly his parents moved to Grosse Point or something, but then it turned out he was staying at Transitions but he had some sort of forty-eight-hour leave and he died from an overdose."
Another cover-up, Bliss thought. The Blue Bloods covered their tracks well. Easy enough to explain Dylan's death as another rich kid drug overdose. Especially since he was in rehab. An entirely plausible story, except that it wasn't at all true.
Allison shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't even know him that well, but you guys were friends, weren't you?"
"We were," Bliss said. "Was it... How did... Was anyone else there?" The Duchesne girl looked embarrassed.
"No. Not really. There weren't that many people. I think I was the only one from Duchesne. There were some people from the rehab center, but then they were the ones who organized it. I just happened to find out about it from Wes McCall. He'd been staying at Transitions too. I just thought... well, Dylan and I used to have English together and he was... a nice guy. A character. But nice, you know?"
"Yeah," Bliss said. She found that her eyes were suddenly full of tears.
"Oh god, you're crying. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Allison said. "Here." She handed Bliss a scented handkerchief from her handbag.
"I'm okay... it's just... it was complicated," Bliss stammered, gladly taking the hanky and wiping her eyes.
"Life sure is." Allison nodded. "But it's good to see you... out. I mean, it must be so hard. I'm saying all the wrong things, aren't I?"
"Not at all. It's nice to be able to talk to somebody." Bliss smiled.
"Well. You can always talk to me. You coming back to school in September?"
Bliss nodded. "Yeah. It's weird to be held back. I don't really know anyone anymore." The Visitor had agreed that Bliss should go back to school. It would be odd if the senator's daughter suddenly became a high school dropout.
"Well, you know me, and I'm in your class," Allison said. "It won't be so bad," she said, giving Bliss a hug.
"That's good to hear. Thanks, Ally. See ya." Bliss smiled.
"See ya."
Bliss walked back to her car, wanting nothing more than to be alone as she absorbed this news. There had been a memorial for Dylan and no one had come. To the Red Bloods he was just some troublemaker; to the vampires, collateral damage. No one cared or remembered him.
She hadn't even been there to pay her respects. To see him for one last time before they put him in the ground. He was gone forever, and she would never see him again.