“But how?”
“Sadly, it means one of us is culpable. The Silver Bloods would not be able to thrive unless someone from our circle was hiding them. Helping them. It would have to be one of the very old families, powerful enough to cover up such black evil that Michael could not notice a change in the balance.”
“But what does it mean for me?” Bliss asked, her voice quavering.
“There are very few who have lived after a Silver Blood attack, and there is always the danger of corruption.”
“Corruption?”
“Sometimes, the Silver Blood will not take his victim to full consumption; instead it will instill a hunger . . . drawing enough blood so that the vampire is left weakened. But Red Blood becomes poison to the victim, and he will hunt his own kind for survival.”
That’s what happened to Dylan, Bliss thought. He had been turned. Corrupted. Transformed into a monster, and then killed before he could reveal its secrets.
“The crisis in Roanoke, we believe, happened because several of our people in that settlement had already been corrupted when they left the Old World.”
“How do you know if you’ve been corrupted?” Bliss asked nervously.
In answer, Forsyth began lifting the gauze from Bliss’s neck. He unwrapped the bandage.
Bliss looked at her father anxiously. What was he going to show her? Had she been turned into a monster?
Her father handed her a small hand mirror from the nurse’s table.
She brought it up to her neck, dreading what she would see.
But her neck was smooth, as clear and unblemished as before.
“What does it mean?”
“There are no marks, which means the poison was not strong enough to hold. Your Blue Blood, the sangre azul, was able to rehabilitate your chemistry on its own. Heal itself, and protect you from corruption. The Croatan did not make you one of its own.”
She nodded, grateful and relieved. She had survived. . . . She wasn’t sure how, but she had lived.
“There will be other tests,” Forsyth warned. “One of the Elders will administer them to you. They will ask you to share your memories, to commune with them. To show them what you saw. But I am confident you will pass their judgment.”
Her father was about to leave the room, but Bliss called out another question. “But, Dad, if one had been corrupted . . . how could you tell?”
“It’s hard to say, but we have noticed that those who have befallen corruption tend to be drawn to the Dark Matter, and to start exhibiting curiosity concerning the Black Spells.”
Later that evening, Nan Cutler, one of the high-ranking Wardens, arrived to visit Bliss. Nan was one of the bird-thin, elegant society women in Priscilla Dupont’s circle; she had a shock of white hair with a raven stripe in the middle. The city knew her as an indefatigable fund-raiser and shopper of high-end couture. But when she came into Bliss’s hospital room that evening, all traces of the public facade were gone. Here was a formidable, centuries-old vampire. Bliss could see the faint blue blood lines on her face.
She introduced herself to Bliss, then took a seat at her bedside.
By evening, sensation had returned to Bliss’s limbs, and she was feeling much better already.
“Take my hands, child,” Nan said softly. Bliss placed both of her hands in the old lady’s soft ones. Nan’s hands were smooth and unwrinkled.
“Now close your eyes and take me back to yesterday evening. Show me everything you saw.”
The glom. Nan would use the glom to read her mind, Bliss knew. She had to open her mind and let the old woman see.
Bliss nodded.
She closed her eyes.
Together, they saw what had happened. Bliss, waiting in the reception area for Kingsley. They saw Renfield bring a list of files to Priscilla Dupont. They saw Schuyler walk in and ask if she had seen Oliver. They saw several girls from Duchesne check out books for the next Committee meeting.
Then all went black. A dark, noxious smoke engulfed the entire area. . . .
Bliss waited for the beast to appear, but all they saw was the thick, black smoke.
When she opened her eyes, Nan was scribbling in her notebook.
“Good,” Nan said. “Now, if you please, lift your hair and show me the back of your neck.”
The back of my neck?
Bliss did as told. Nan nodded. “You may put your hair down.”
After the Warden left, her father walked in and hugged her tight.
Whatever test it was, it looked as though she had passed.
The back of her neck . . .
Part of the test . . .
She thought of how Kingsley’s hair was so long, it always covered the back of his neck. A fashion statement? Or was he hiding something?
Kingsley . . . who carried that book around with him all the time, the materia acerbus. Kingsley, who had taught her to palaver with the beast of her nightmares.
Kingsley Martin, who was part of an old, old, Blue Blood family. One of the most powerful, and the most prestigious . . .
Bliss closed her eyes. She saw the beast again, the beast had spoken to her. It had said one word . . .
Now.