Bliss shifted uncomfortably. “I . . .”
“It’s okay. I mean, Jaime is being really weird about it. I know he’s going to that ball at the St. Regis with his parents—seriously, how lame is that? But I thought it was weird he didn’t even invite me to the after-party.”
“I’m sorry.” Bliss said, feeling uncomfortable. She hated when people were left out of the fun. She remembered what her life had been like before Mimi had taken her under her wing. She didn’t have it in her heart to exclude people. It was so shallow and snobby, and so Mimi. It certainly wasn’t Bliss. Anyway, what was the harm? Maybe the Four Hundred Ball was exclusively for Blue Bloods, but the after-party was for teenagers. In Bliss’s opinion, the more the merrier. If someone wanted to join, what was the harm, really?
“I just—it’s just—I mean, I know everyone else will get an invite,” Ava said, biting her lip. “And what if I don’t . . .”
“It’s downtown at the Angel Orensanz Center at midnight,” Bliss blurted out. “And it’s a masquerade party. You’ll need a mask, some sort of disguise, to get in.”
A rapturous smile appeared on Ava’s face. “Thank you, Bliss. Thank you SO MUCH.”
Damn.
Now she’d gone and done it.
She’d invited a Red Blood to the party. Mimi was going to be seriously pissed.
TEN
Hopeless. Everything was hopeless now. Her grandfather had turned out to be useless: a scared old man with nothing to live for but his books, his cigars, and his port wine. What had she expected? A tutor, a guide, a patron . . . a father. Someone who would take the burden off her shoulders for a while. As she packed her bags in her hotel room the next morning, Schuyler remembered Lawrence’s parting words.
“I am sorry, Schuyler. Cordelia was wrong in sending you to me.”
He then began to pace in front of the fire. “The truth is, I no longer have any interest in Blue Blood affairs. I have washed my hands of their plight, ever since Roanoke. They chose to follow Michael then, as they have always done,” he said, meaning the coven leadership had reinstalled Michael as Regis when the crisis at Roanoke had been discovered and it looked as if the Silver Bloods had returned. “And if I’m not mistaken, they still choose to follow him today as Charles Force.” Lawrence shook his head. “When he turned his back on the family and renounced the Van Alen name, I vowed that I would never return to the coven.
“Alas, you have traveled to Venice in vain. I am an old man. I would prefer to live out my immortal life in peace. I have nothing to offer you.”
“But Cordelia said . . .”
“Cordelia placed too much faith in me, as always. The key to defeating the Silver Bloods lies with Charles and Allegra, not with me. Only the Uncorrupted can save Blue Bloods from the Silver Blood Abominations.
“I am sorry I cannot be of much help. I swore off the Blue Bloods forever when I went into exile.”
“Then Charles Force was right about you,” Schuyler said, her voice shaking.
“How do you mean?” Lawrence asked darkly.
“He said you weren’t half the man Cordelia wished you to be. That I would only find sorrow and confusion if I traveled to Venice.”
Lawrence stepped back as if he had received a physical blow. His face registered a myriad of emotions—shame, anger, pride—but he remained silent. In the end, he abruptly turned his back on her and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
*
Well. That was that. Schuyler zipped up her carryall, lugged it over her shoulder, and walked out to the elevator, where Oliver was waiting. He didn’t say hello or good morning.
She knew that if she wanted to, she could catch a glimpse of his mind—his thoughts broadcast as if on satellite radio. But she always switched the signal. She didn’t feel it was right to pry. Besides, she didn’t need any of her special powers to figure out he was still annoyed with her for not calling him the night before.
Lawrence’s chauffeur had brought her back to the hotel late the previous evening, and Schuyler had found several frantic messages from her friend on her cell phone and hotel voice mail. She would have called him back, but it was so late she hadn’t wanted to wake him.
“I thought you were dead,” Oliver accused.
“If I was, you could have my iPod.”
“Ha. Yours sucks. It doesn’t even have video.”
Schuyler repressed a smile. She knew Oliver couldn’t stay mad at her for long.
“Anyway, you missed a hilarious European music awards show on TV. David Hasselhoff swept all the categories.”
“Sucks to be me.”