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I have never been carded in my life! Mimi wanted to scream. This is New York City! Do you even have any idea how old I am? But before Mimi could say anything, or use the glom to her advantage, Kingsley reached over and snagged her purse and plucked out Mimi's driver's license to hand to the waitress. The girl didn't even bother to look at it.
"Whiskey and a martini coming right up."
"Smooth. What did you do? Change the date?" Mimi asked. Some vampires had the ability to transform inanimate objects. Mimi would have loved that talent. Imagine all the knockoffs she could turn into real Birkins! She'd make a fortune.
"Nah. No need. She just wanted to mess with you. It's my attention she was after."
"You're really something else, aren't you?"
Kingsley grinned. "I've missed you, Force. You still mad at me from last time? I hope not. No hard feelings, yeah?"
She snorted, but it was hard to stay mad at him when he was smiling at her like that.
Their drinks came with no further flirtation from the waitress. Mimi took a sip of hers. Meanwhile, Kingsley had somehow managed it so that she was practically sitting on his lap at their cozy table.
"Stop it," she said, pushing off. "I want to talk to you about something serious."
"That sounds boring," he sighed. "I was hoping you wanted to talk about something else."
"Listen. I found the tapes. Your reports from two years ago. They were in Charles's office," Mimi said, looking him square in the eye.
"Spying on me now?" Kingsley cocked an eyebrow and finished off his whiskey in one gulp. But he sat up straight and looked alert. With his right hand he motioned for the check.
"I don't understand?" she whispered fiercely. "What were you doing for Charles? Why did you call the Silver Blood? What were the two of you trying to do?"
"Do you really want to know?" Kingsley asked. He returned her forthright stare, so she could look right into his dark eyes. She could see the hint of silver at the edge of his pupils.
Mimi didn't blink. "Yes. Tell me. Tell me everything."
CHAPTER 48
Bliss
The Prada sample sale, while admittedly an exclusive experience (they checked two IDs against the guest list at the door) and filled to the brim with last season's must-haves, struck Bliss as completely anticlimactic. Where were the hordes of fashion-mad women fighting over the last pair of six-inch embroidered platforms? Was the lack of buzz because the economy was in a downturn, or maybe because sample sales were inherently secretly lame? Filled with overstock of designs whose life expectancy rate was the three months that fashionistas actually wore the stuff.
Because who needed a degrade skirt when it was no longer in fashion? Or for that matter, vertiginious pumps in a crocodile pattern that turned a foot into a hoof .
Was it still fashion when it was no longer fashionable?
Bliss wandered around the shelves, pulling a bag to look at here and there. Four hundred dollars was still too much to pay for a handbag, she thought. They called this a sample sale? A dress caught her eye, one of those babydoll dresses that had looked so cute in the advertising campaign. Purple with yellow flowers. She picked it up.
When Schuyler walked in, dressed in her various layers but looking as ethereal and beautiful as ever, Bliss could see the envy from all the other insect-sized fashionistas, which made her feel proud and happy. Seeing Schuyler reminded Bliss that she wasn't some centuries-old freak, some cursed being... that part of her was only sixteen years old and still innocent, and no one else, no one else in this room, would understand what she was going through....
Except for the girl in the gray trenchcoat and black sweater.
"Bliss! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god?" Schuyler cried, and soon they were embracing, hugging each other tightly, tears flowing down their cheeks, making a bit of a commotion so that the other shoppers turned away and tried to pretend they weren't gawking.
"Do we have to stay here?" Schuyler asked, looking curiously at Bliss. "Are you buying that dress?"
"I might... Why? Do you not like it? But no, I mean yes, it's better if we stay here... but I think there's a room where we can talk," Bliss said, leading Schuyler outside to the hallway and into a little anteroom on the side.
They sat side by side, still clutching each other. Bliss noticed how thin Schuyler had gotten.
"When I heard you guys had to run away, I was so worried. What happened?"
She listened while Schuyler told her about the investigation and all that had happened afterward. As she did, she realized more and more what a danger she was posing to Schuyler. Even without the title, Forsyth was already leading the Conclave. Bliss could feel the Visitor behind it all. But why would he care what happened to Schuyler Van Alen?
"I saw Oliver at school, but we haven't had a chance to get together," Bliss said.
