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"Of course," Lawrence replied. "What we are doing here is merely rote memory. School teaches a different skill set entirely: socialization, debate, learning to mix with humans. One must not alienate oneself from the mainstream. Blue Bloods must understand their place in the world before we can attempt to change it. You may be able to call up the entire encyclopedia, but a brain with no heart and no reasoning... well, nothing is more meaningless."
Schuyler began to look forward to the tests every afternoon. Lawrence presented her with the hardest one yet at the end of the week.
"You have heard of the glom," Lawrence said. "The ability to control human minds."
"Yes." Schuyler said. "One of the most dangerous arts, Priscilla DuPont said. Best that we do not attempt it until we are of age."
"Ridiculous. You need to learn it now, to protect yourself from its seductive effects. Because the glom also works on Blue Bloods. It is a pernicious Silver Blood technique."
Schuyler shuddered.
"So you must learn how to control it, and defend yourself against it. We shall try the first one, before I can prepare you for the second." Lawrence decided. "There are four factors to the glom. The first one is merely telepathy. The ability to read minds. To read another's thoughts, one must concentrate on their energy--and strive to understand its source. A mind is like a puzzle; you must unlock it to read its hidden secrets."
"Anderson, come in here, please."
The white-haired gentleman entered the room. "Yes?"
"Anderson has been trained to resist the glom. He must, if he is going to be a good Conduit. One cannot have a vam- pire's assistant corrupted."
For the next three hours, Schuyler sat on one end of a table, Anderson sat at the other. Lawrence would hold up a flash card to show Anderson, and Schuyler had to guess what was on the flash card.
What is he thinking? She focused on his signal, but all she got was static, a dense gray fog.
"Queen of hearts?" Schuyler asked.
Lawrence showed her an ace of spades.
"Ten of clubs?"
Three of diamonds.
And so it went. The gray fog did not lift. Schuyler felt depressed. After her success on the Velox and the aminadverto, she was certain mastering the glom would be just as straightforward.
Anderson was excused, and Schuyler was left alone with her grandfather.
"It is a hard one." Lawrence consoled, shuffling the cards and stacking them back in their case.
Schuyler nodded. "But it seems so easy," she said, men- tioning how she could read Oliver's thoughts with no trouble.
"He is unprotected. Remind me, we will have to train him as well if he is going to be an effective Conduit."
Schuyler nodded. The effort to master the glom had taken a lot of her energy, and she felt dizzy and tired all of a sudden.
"Are you all right?" Lawrence asked, concerned.
She waved her hand away. Schuyler never admitted it to her grandfather, but sometimes after completing the tests, she was so weak she could barely stand.
Their meeting in the Repository had been purely accidental. Schuyler was there to read as many books as possible on Lawrence's instructions and had been pleasantly surprised to find Jack studying at one of the desks.
"Oh, hey." He grinned, raking a hand through his hair and motioning for her to take the seat across from him. "What are you reading? The Trial?" he asked, showing her his copy.
She nodded. They had been assigned the Kafka tome in their AP English class. It was one of the several books she had in her stack.
"Silly love story, don't you think?" he asked, paging through the yellowed leaves in his book, which Schuyler noticed was well worn and dog-eared.
"Love story?" She made a face. "Isn't the book about the tyranny of justice? The absurd nature of bureaucracy? We never know what he's on trial for, after all."
