Oliver was a human boy. A Red Blood. And Schuyler needed a familiar….
"What?" Oliver asked, when no one replied. "Do I smell or something?”
THIRTY-THREE
It was time to try her plan. The roses had been the last straw. It was not only that—her brother was becoming bolder and bolder in his pursuit of the half-blood. He hardly ever tried to disguise the fact that he lingered in hall ways outside Schuyler's classroom, or had taken to hanging out in the library at school or the Repository to catch a glimpse of her. Mimi had even caught the two of them shamelessly flirting in public! The other day a friend told her she had seen Jack actually walk out of the school with Schuyler in his arms! Not that Mimi even believed that one.
Mimi drew the pentagram as the book had instructed, with a small white chalk on the pale blond hardwood floor. Then she placed the necessary ingredients together in a small steel bowl on her dressing-room table: verbena leaves, bay leaves, a cluster of tiger lilies, marjoram, a toad heart, and a bat wing. The array looked out of place among the many crystal bottles of perfume and expensive French lotions.
She lit a candle and drew a flame from it with a stick of rosemary. She blew out the candle as directed and threw the burning herb into the bowl.
A tall, violet flame erupted.
Mimi glanced at herself in the mirror and was surprised to find that the room, which only moments before had been filled with afternoon sunlight, was now pitch black, save for the light shooting up from the bowl.
Her hands trembled slightly as she opened a small, glassine envelope that contained Schuyler Van Alen's hair. She shook out the contents and held it in her hand.
The book instructed her to throw the hair into the flame, while saying the words that would vanquish her enemy. Mimi closed her eyes and tossed it into the fire.
"I, Azrael, command the spirits. Annul the power of my rival.
"I, Azrael, command the spirits. Annul the power of my rival.
"I, Azrael, command the spirits. Annul the power of my rival.”
"MIMI!" The door flew open. Charles Force stood at the entryway. With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the bright violet flame.
Mimi opened her eyes and gasped. She tried vainly to wipe off the traces of the pentagram with her foot. "I was just curious," she explained. "The Committee never lets us do anything….”
He walked over to her side and poked a finger into the burning embers. "It is understandable. We are made from dark magic—we who are condemned to walk the earth forever. But these incantations are very strong. If you do not know how to control them, they can control you. That is why it is forbidden to the young until you are ready.”
Charles picked up the book on her desk. "Where did you get this? I know, The Repository. But this is kept under lock and key. It is a dangerous book for those who are not yet of age.”
He tucked the book under his arm. "Darling, why don't you find something else to do with your time?”
When her father left, Mimi picked up her white princess phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Kingsley," Mimi asked. "Can I talk to you for a minute?”
"Sure, baby, what's on your mind?”
"You know that thing you said? About calling up a Silver Blood from the Dark?”
"Yeah.”
"Do you think it would work?”
THIRTY-FOUR
"There's something different about you," Kingsley said, one afternoon while they were supposedly doing homework in Bliss's bedroom. "Supposedly" because that's what Bliss liked to think was going to happen, but Kingsley always had other ideas. BobiAnne insisted that Bliss leave the door open to her room whenever she had a boy over—that was one of her rules. But BobiAnne wasn't there that afternoon. It was her weekly spa appointment, and she would be gone for hours. Jordan was at ballet rehearsal, which ran until midnight. Bliss was alone in the apartment, save for the staff, who were on the first floor, far away in the servants' wing.
"I got a haircut," Bliss offered, looking up from her German essay. She knew that wasn't what Kingsley was after. Ever since the double-bouquet delivery, Kingsley had been harassing her to find out the identity of Bliss's so-called "mystery man.”
"No, that's not it." Kingsley smiled. He was stretched out on her bed like a lazy cat, his black hair so long that it curled onto his shirt collar. His notebooks and binders were scattered around him, including that dark leather-bound book he was always reading. But in the past hour, he had done absolutely no homework and instead had been needling her all evening.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Bliss said stubbornly.
"I think you do," Kingsley drawled. "It's written all over you.”
"What?”
"You did it. You took a human during your little vacation or photo shoot, whatever you call it. Vou drank bees blaad," Kingsley said, affecting a Transylvanian accent. "Whoever gave them the idea that we were some provincial hicks from Eastern Europe was brilliant.”
"So what if I did?" Bliss asked.
"Oh, goody. Now we're getting somewhere. Did you like it?”
"You're not jealous?" Bliss asked.
"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?" Kingsley looked shocked. "I don't think you understand—it's like being jealous of your hairdresser. Familiars perform a service, that's all. We don't get emotionally attached to them.”
"We?”
"You know what I mean.”
Kingsley walked over to Bliss's side and began massaging her back. "C'mon, relax.…Are you still having those flashbacks? Those blackouts?”
Bliss nodded.
"Did you try doing what I suggested?" he asked.
She shook her head. She was too scared to do what he had proposed.
"Well, you should, it works. Worked for me." Kingsley's fingers kneaded her sore muscles expertly, and Bliss was soon swooning under his touch. It was like being hypnotized….
Red eyes with silver pupils, and a voice that whispered in a hiss…
Soon…
Soon…
Soon…
The beast had come again, chasing her down mazelike corridors. She felt its hot, foul breath on her cheek. She was trapped against a corner, and she could not wake up. She looked it in the eye. Do it, do it, she thought. Do what Kingsley said.
Talk to it.