Masquerade (Blue Bloods #2)

Masquerade (Blue Bloods #2) Page 15

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Masquerade (Blue Bloods #2) Page 15

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 ?clairs 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.

There was a buzzing through the crowd by the cloakroom and the elevators among the invitees, as well as cries of confusion and disappointment among those who had not received the text.

"Are you going to change?" Bliss asked Mimi, following her out the door.

"Are you crazy? I'm going to wear this dress until they pry it off my cold dead body," Mimi joked. "Come upstairs. We have the best selection of masks."

Mimi was in high spirits. The ball had been a blast and all, but now it was time to par-tay.

Schuyler walked out to the sidewalk, hugging her black fur coat, an old one of Cordelia's, around her shoulders. She found Julius, her grandmother's driver, waiting patiently for her by the curb in the old Crown Victoria.

"Where to?"

She was about to say "home" when her phone buzzed. Oliver, for sure. Nope. It was a text message from a blocked number.

Directing her to Angel Orensanz, the abandoned syna- gogue on the Lower East Side. Masks a must? What was this all about?

"Did you get the message?" Cicely Appelgate called excitedly from the next car over. Cicely was part of Mimi's crew, and Schuyler wondered why she was bothering to talk to her.

"Uh, yeah."

"See you there!" Cicely said gaily. "Great dress, by the way!" she added admiringly. "My mom said it's definitely vintage Chanel."

So that was it. Sometimes it seemed to Schuyler that high school was so silly. If you dressed a certain way, or looked a certain way, or had the "right" things--like a designer handbag, or the newest cell phone, or an expensive watch--your life was much easier. Schuyler never had any of those things. Cordelia had been strict with her allowance, and she had always been the kid in secondhand sweaters and items from last year's clearance bin.

But the dress, and the fact that it was from a respected and expensive design house, had changed Cicely's perception of her. For the evening, at least.

"Home, Miss Schuyler?"

She had promised to call Oliver the minute she left the party. She had told him that she was only going to stay for a few minutes and depart soon after dinner, but it was already eleven thirty. He would be jet-lagged, Schuyler thought. He's probably passed out in front of the television by now.

The text message must be for the party downtown that other kids at the ball were talking about--the buzz about Mimi Force hosting some kind of bacchanal that evening. Should she go? What could it hurt? Besides, if Mimi was there, that meant Jack would be there too. She thought of how handsome he'd looked in his coattails, and the way he'd stared at her when she'd entered the party, his green eyes boring into hers. Not too long ago, he had been the one who was hell-bent to find out the truth about the Silver Bloods, but he had backed off all of a sudden. But maybe there was still a chance she could convince him to join her in her fight. Since her grandfather had refused to help, she was now adrift. But with Jack at her side...She made up her mind.

"Let's go home, Julius, but just for a minute," Schuyler decided. "I just need to pick up something. A souvenir from Venice. Then we're going downtown."

New York Herald