“I think he’s . . .” but before Bliss could finish, a boy walked over and asked her to dance. “Sure.” Bliss shrugged. “I’ll tell you later,” she said to Schuyler.
Schuyler nodded. As she dejectedly walked back to her seat, she wondered what Bliss was about to tell her. Bliss was her only friend at the ball. What was Schuyler doing here, anyway? Why had she come? For Cordelia? For the Van Alen name? No. She had to be honest. And this was where the truth hurt. She had wanted to see Jack Force again. But it was agony.
There he was, attentively at his sister’s side, the two of them gliding through the ballroom, entwined at the hip. Jack keeping a hand on Mimi’s tiny waist. Schuyler had heard whispers from the Elders and the Wardens at the adjoining table . . . something about a bond . . . something about the two of them and an immortal vow.
The next course was served, roast squab and a cold asparagus vinaigrette. It looked delicious, but the food tasted dry and mealy on her tongue.
“Jack,” Mimi whispered softly in his ear as they made their way around the room. “It’s time.” Ever practical, she decided to ignore what she had seen earlier. Mimi was a master of self-deception. If something bothered her, she refused to even acknowledge its existence. In her mind, Schuyler Van Alen was a temporary, if annoying, infatuation.
But for Jack, the sight of Schuyler Van Alen had only served to ignite a feeling he had been repressing for months. A disquieting thought nagged at his conscience. Why did Schuyler affect him in such a powerful way? Was it the resemblance to Allegra? Was that all? Or was it something new . . . something he wasn’t prepared for and didn’t expect? He shook his head, disgusted and ashamed of himself. His rightful place was by his sister’s side. He would just have to act as if Schuyler did not exist.
“They are waiting for us to lead the quadrille,” Mimi said, and Jack dutifully escorted his sister to the dance floor, where three other young couples were waiting. It was part of Four Hundred tradition that the young who were going to be presented would lead in this dance, and the teens in the foremost quadrille were chosen because of their family’s hierarchy in The Committee. Aggie Carondolet would have been one of the dancers had she lived.
Mimi thought the quadrille was just a fancy name for square dancing, but she enjoyed it even so, as Jack led her through the cross-over, the balance, and then the circle eight, ending with the four ladies’ grand chain, which placed her in the front of the group, as it should be.
After the dance, the Blue Blood teens remained frozen in their position in the middle of the dance floor, waiting to be formally presented to the assembly, called out by their current and true names by the Regis.
“Dehua Chen,” was called, and one of the imperial Chinese beauties stepped forward.
“Known to our people by her true name, Xi Wangmu.”
The Angel of Immortality.
“Deming Chen.” Her sister was called next. The two of them were identical in their serene, otherworldly beauty, with skin the color of toasted milk; silky-straight, ebony-black hair; sexily slanted almond eyes; and an incongruous splattering of freckles across their button noses.
“Known to our people by her true name, Kuan Yin.”
The Angel of Mercy.
Several other Blue Blood teens were called, rounding out the former heavenly pantheon.
At last, a lone spotlight was shone on the Force twins. Mimi gripped her brother’s hand tightly.
“Madeleine Force.” Mimi stepped forward, her chin held high.
“Known to our people by her true name, Azrael.”
The Angel of Death.
“Benjamin Force.” Jack bowed his head.
“Known to our people by his true name, Abbadon.”
The Angel of Destruction.
The twin Angels of the Apocalypse. This was their immortal destiny. This was their place. The clan’s most powerful vampires after the Uncorrupted. Lucifer’s former lieutenants, who had turned their backs on the Prince of Heaven after the Fall. In Rome, they had hunted and slain the Silver Blood spawn. Only by their strength had the Blue Bloods survived the millennia.
Jack smiled at Mimi, and they both bowed low to the coven.
They had their work cut out for them.
FIFTEEN
The coffee had been served in its golden carafes, and dessert—the traditional Waldorf pudding along with peaches in chartreuse jelly, as well as chocolate and vanilla éclairs and a light-as-air meringue cake topped with Amaretto whipped cream—had been served and (lightly) consumed. Powdered cheeks were pressed against powdered cheeks in good-bye. A wonderful time had been had, it was agreed, and a ridiculous amount of money had been raised, breaking records from last year, even. All around the St. Regis Ballroom, Mimi’s text messages were being delivered. For select vampire teens, the evening had just begun.
After-party. Angel Orensanz. Midnight. Masks A Must. No Text. No Entry.