He motioned toward the dance floor.
Bliss nodded and followed him. He held out his hands and she stepped into his embrace.
“So you have survived,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, so that she could feel his breath blow softly.
“Excuse me?”
“I would have hated to let you drown.” He chuckled.
“You . . .”
He put a finger to his lips, or rather to the lips of the Pierrot mask.
“I missed you . . .” Bliss said. Dylan. It had to be him. He had found her again. How clever to show up at a masquerade party, where he could appear without causing a fuss.
“I haven’t been gone for long,” he said earnestly.
“I know, but I was worried. . . .”
“Don’t be. Everything will be all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Bliss danced joyfully. He had returned! He had returned to be with her. She was elated.
The song ended. The boy in the mask bowed low. “A pleasure.”
“Wait—” Bliss called, but already he had disappeared into the throng, and when she looked around, she saw a dozen boys dressed similarly in their black tails, but none were wearing a mask with a sad clown face, one tear glinting below the eye.
Schuyler walked despondently from room to room. She should have called Oliver after all, if only to have some company. This party didn’t seem to be as exclusive as the Four Hundred Ball. She noticed a few of her human classmates were there looking a bit nervous, as if they weren’t sure they were welcome. She could tell human from vampire: the vampires glowed in the dark—the gift of Illuminata made them recognizable to each other.
Deep in the shadows behind the columns, several couples were availing of the dark to neck—“necking” taking on quite a different meaning among the vampire teens. She could hear the deep, sucking sounds as vampires fed on their human familiars, the throbbing beat of blood and life force exchanged from one being to the next. Afterward, the vampires glowed even more, their features sharper and more distinct, while the humans looked vacant and listless.
One day, Schuyler knew, she would have to do the same. She would have to perform the Sacred Kiss with a human familiar. The thought both excited and terrified her. The Sacred Kiss was not a joke. It was a serious bond between vampire and human, one that was respected by the Blue Bloods. Human familiars were to be treated with affection and care for the service they provided.
The genteel atmosphere at the Four Hundred Ball had given way to a rowdier, more boisterous behavior. Several teens were dancing body-to-body to the hard beats of the house music the DJ was spinning, and a riotous, anything-goes atmosphere prevailed, as girls began dancing sexily with each other, or grinding their pelvises against their male partners. The party was soon packed with sweaty teens throwing their hands in the air and declaring they were getting megacrunked tonight. (Crazy-ass drunk—on blood.)
Schuyler remained at the fringes. She didn’t fit in with this crowd. She had no friends here.
She sighed. The Venetian mask she was wearing covered her entire face. She wished she could take it off; it was itchy and making her face hot.
She made her way to a small alcove hidden behind the speakers, so she could sit down while she debated her next move.
A boy followed her inside the room. How funny, Schuyler thought. How you knew who the girls were because they were wearing different dresses, whereas the boys were truly disguised since they all looked the same in their penguin suits. Just like this one, in his black silk mask that covered his eyes, nose, and hair, giving him a rakish air like an urban pirate.
“Don’t you like parties?” he asked, when he noticed her sitting by herself on a ruined stone bench.
Schuyler laughed. “I hate them, actually.”
“Me too.”
“I never know what to say, or what to do.”
“Well, it looks like dancing is involved. And drinking. Of all kinds.”
He was a vampire, then. Schuyler wondered who he was, and why he was bothering to speak to her.
“Undoubtedly,” she agreed.
“But you choose not to choose.”
“I’m a rebel,” she said sarcastically.
“I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“You’re here, aren’t you? You could have chosen not to come at all.”
He was right. She didn’t have to be there. She had come for the same reason she had chosen to attend the ball. For the chance to see Jack again. She had to face it: every time she saw Jack Force, something inside her quickened and came alive.
“To be honest, I came to see a boy,” she said.
“What boy?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because. It’s complicated.” Schuyler shrugged.