That was all she'd had to say. Sorry.
No matter how overused and abused it was, sorry was still a powerful word. Powerful enough to make her best friend talk to her again.
"So we're okay?"
Oliver had to laugh. "Yeah. I guess."
Schuyler smiled. She sat down on the ledge next to him. He was her best friend, her confidante, her soul mate, and in the past week, she had ignored and neglected him, pulling away because she was too frightened to tell him the truth about herself. "I have to tell you something about me." She reached out and took his hands in hers. "Oliver, I'm a… I'm a vam…"
Oliver's face softened. "I already know."
"Excuse me?" she demanded.
"Schuyler. Let me show you something."
Still holding her hand, he led her down past the basement pit and the coed bathrooms toward the corner where she had encountered that strange blank wall the last time they were at the club. He muttered a few words, and an outline of a door glowed brightly. Oliver pushed softly on it, and the wall swung open, revealing steep, curving stairs that led to the lowest bowels of the building.
"What is this?" Schuyler asked as they stepped through the entryway. The wall shut behind them, leaving them alone in the dark.
Oliver removed a thin flashlight from his shirt pocket. "Follow me," he said. They began to walk down the stairs, which spiraled down for what seemed like miles. Schuyler was out of breath by the time they arrived at the bottommost stair.
There was another door, a more magnificent one this time, made of gold, ebony, and platinum. INGREDIOR PERCIPIO ANIMUS read the inscription around the perimeter.
Oliver removed a gold key from his wallet and twisted it in the lock.
"Where are we? What is this all about?" Schuyler asked, stepping tentatively inside the room.
It was a library—a large, airy space that smelled like chalk dust and parchment. There were bookshelves that reached seventy-five feet to the ceiling, and a maze of ladders and bridges that connected the towering stacks. It was bright and well-lit, and decorated with cozy Aubusson rugs and bankers lamps. Several scholars at rolltop desks looked up curiously when they entered. Oliver bowed to them and led Schuyler to a private cubicle.
"This is the Repository of History. We keep it protected."
“Who's we?"
Oliver put a hand to his lips. He led her to a small, shabby desk in the back of the room. It held a gleaming iBook, several framed photographs, and a dozen Post-it notes. He searched the shelf on top of the desk and made a satisfied sound as he took down a book, musty and dirty from years of use. He blew softly on the cover. He flipped to the first page and displayed it to her. He pointed to the crumbling page where a family tree was illustrated, the name Van Alen inscribed in the center, with Hazard-Perry in small letters underneath.
"What is this?"
"It's how we're related," Oliver explained. "How we're associated, I mean. We're not family, so don't worry."
"What do you mean?" she asked, still trying to fathom the fact that there was a secret library underneath the nightclub.
"My family has served yours for centuries."
"Come again?"
"I'm a Conduit. Like everyone in my family. We've been caretakers for the Blue Bloods forever. We work as doctors, lawyers, accountants, financiers. We've served the Van Alens in that capacity since the 1700s. You know Dr. Pat? She's my aunt."
"What do you mean, serve us? Your family is so much richer than mine," Schuyler pointed out.
"An accident of fate. We offered to ameliorate the situation, but your grandmother wouldn't hear of it. 'Times have changed, she said."
"But what does that mean—a Conduit?"
"It means, we serve a different purpose. Not all humans are familiars."
"You know about that?" she asked. She looked down at the page again, recognizing the names of her ancestors on her mother's side.
"I know enough."
"But why didn't you ever say anything?"
"I'm not allowed."
"But how come you can know what you are, but I didn't know what I was?"
"Search me. That's how it's been since the beginning Being a Conduit is something that's passed down, that's taught, and it's easier to teach at a young age. We serve to keep the Blue Bloods a secret, to protect them and help them manage in the real world. The practice is an old one, and only a few vampire families keep Conduits nowadays. Most got rid of theirs, like the Forces. It's an ancient tradition, and some Blue Bloods don't keep to the old ways anymore. Like your grandmother said, things are different now I'm one of the last of our kind."
"Why?"
"Who knows?" Oliver shrugged. "Most Blue Bloods can take care of themselves anyway. They don't need us anymore. They don't trust the Red Bloods to help; they want to control them instead."
There was a commotion at another desk, and they turned to see a cowering, hunchbacked librarian being berated by an angry older woman with a distinctly recognizable blond bob.
"What's happening?"
"Anders is getting it again. Mrs. DuPont is not happy with the way his research is going."
Schuyler recognized the graceful figure of The Committee chair. “And Anders is?"
"A librarian. All the library staff is Red Blood. Conduits who don't work for any single family anymore."
Schuyler noticed that the Blue Bloods at the library ordered the librarians around with a grand, authoritative fashion, and for a moment she was embarrassed to be a vampire. What happened to common courtesy?
"Why do they talk to you guys like that?"
"Your family never did," Oliver said, blushing. "But like I told you, most Blue Bloods resent us. They don't even think we should be here, or know about them. But no one from your side wants to take over the Repository. No one's interested in caretaking some old books."
"What's she doing here anyway?" Schuyler wondered, watching Mrs. DuPont look through some paperwork her Conduit had brought.
"This is the headquarters of the Conclave of Elders. The Wardens—you know. They meet over there, in the boardroom behind the stacks."
"How long have you known? About me, I mean." Schuyler asked. She looked back at his desk, at the photograph of the two of them that had been taken the past summer in Nantucket. Oliver, his face red from the sun, was squinting at the camera. He had a dark, deep caramel tan and his hair had lightened to a rich golden brown, while Schuyler looked pale and uncomfortable, underneath a huge floppy beach hat, a white smudge of sunscreen on her nose. They had looked so young then, even if it was only a few months ago. Last summer they had been just kids,just a bunch of kids who were dreading going back to high school. They had spent the two weeks sailing and making bonfires on the beach. To Schuyler it felt like a lifetime ago.
"I've known since I was born. I was assigned to you," he said simply.
"You were assigned to me?"
"As I understand it, every member of a vampire family is assigned a human conduit at birth. I'm two months younger than you. You could even say you're the reason why I was born. I sought you out. Remember?"
Schuyler looked back on all her memories. She remembered now how he kept making friendly overtures, and how she'd resisted at first. He was always sitting next to her in class, or asking her questions, and finally, in the second grade, when they'd shared that dismal lettuce sandwich, they'd become friends.
"And what exactly do you do?"
"I help you. I nudge you in a certain direction, suggest how to use your powers so you can discover them on your own. Remember that night at The Bank, when I kept telling you 'think positive and we'll get in'?"