"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, nipping 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 crumpled 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 stammered. 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.
CHAPTER 26
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 downstairs 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 everything 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 in Jersey 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.
"Lychee martini?" 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 something?" 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 apartment, 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 outfit. 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.
"I'm sorry, you're not on the list," the clipboard girl replied, savoring the rejection.
Schuyler was about to step back into the elevator and go home, when Bliss appeared from behind a hidden doorway.
"Bliss!" Schuyler cried. "They won't let me in."