CHAPTER 36
The Committee meetings were reinstated on Monday. They had been canceled for several weeks, without any explanation given to the junior members. During the meeting, planning for the Four Hundred Ball began in earnest. There was still no mention of Aggie's death or Dylan's arrest. Instead, there was excited chatter for the Christmas formal. The Four Hundred Ball was the most anticipated party of the year, the most glamorous, the most fantastic, and the most exclusive, as only Blue Bloods were invited.
Schuyler went to the meeting just to see if she could still talk some sense into Jack, who was standing with his back to her. The junior members were divided into subcommittees, and Schuyler joined the Invitation group only because it sounded like the least work. Just as she'd thought, the only task they had was to put together the guest list, which would be vetted by the Senior Committee, and then they would stamp and mail the invitations, which were already chosen, designed, and printed.
"I'm worried about Dylan," Bliss said, when the meeting was over. "Where is he? The police still won't say. And my dad keeps telling me to keep out of it."
"I know, I am too." Schuyler nodded, as her gaze drifted over to where Jack was chatting with Mrs. DuPont and Mimi.
"It's a lost cause, Schuyler. I know the Force twins. They stick together."
"I just have to try," Schuyler said wistfully. She still couldn't believe that the boy who'd kissed her so passionately not so long ago was now ignoring her and acting as if nothing had ever happened between them. She couldn't reconcile the Jack who'd told her about his dreams and his blocked memories with the one who was cheerfully debating swing orchestras or jazz bands for the upcoming ball.
"Suit yourself," Bliss sighed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
Schuyler nodded. Bliss walked away and Schuyler moved toward Jack Force. Thankfully, Mimi had already left the room.
"Jack, you have to listen to me," she said, pulling him aside. "Please."
“Why?"
"I know what The Committee's hiding. I know what Croatan is."
He stopped, gaping at her. "How?" He had avoided meeting her gaze, but he looked at her now—Schuyler's cheeks were blazing red from anger, and she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.
"My grandmother told me." She relayed everything her grandmother had told her about the Silver Bloods, and the killings in Roanoke and Plymouth.
His forehead furrowed. "She isn't allowed to do that. It's privileged information."
"You know about this?"
"I did some research of my own, and my father told me the rest. But it's a dead end."
"What do you mean? It's the first clue."
He shook his head. "Schuyler, I'm sorry to have misled you. But Aggie's death is being taken care of. You have to trust The Committee to do the right thing. Your grandmother told you an old myth. There is no such thing as the Silver Bloods. No one has ever even proved they really existed."
"I don't believe you. We need to convince The Committee to warn everyone. If you don't join me, I'll do it myself."
"There's nothing I can do to stop you?" Jack asked.
Schuyler jutted her chin out in determination. "No." She looked askance at him. Just a few weeks ago, she'd been falling in love with him, with his courage and his bravery. Where was the boy who refused to swallow the lies The Committee told them? Where had he gone? When they had danced together at the Informals, she thought she had never been happier in her life. But Jack wasn't the boy she thought he was. Maybe he never had been.
CHAPTER 37
After the meeting, Schuyler told Bliss and Oliver everything her grandmother had told her about the Silver Bloods, and how Charles Force was the only person who could help them with Dylan's situation. They decided that the next day Schuyler and Bliss would sneak out of their third period class to confront him. Oliver would make some excuse to their art teacher as to why the girls were absent.
They ambushed Mr. Force in front of the Four Seasons restaurant, where he was known to lunch daily. The Four Seasons was located in the Seagram Building on Park Avenue, and from noon to two P.M., it was the center of the Manhattan universe. Media magnates, financial tycoons, publishers, celebrated authors, and personalities made it their personal commissary.
"There he is," Bliss said, spotting his sleek silver head emerging from a black Town Car. She recognized him because her father had hosted the Forces at their apartment the first week they arrived in Manhattan. She had been a bit afraid of Charles Force. The man had looked right through her, as if he knew everything about her, every secret wish, every hidden desire; his handshake had been firm and had left a mark on her. He frightened her, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from helping Dylan.
Schuyler studied him. She could swear she'd seen him before. But where? There was something familiar about him. The way he bent his head forward. She knew this man, she was sure of it.
"Mr. Force! Mr. Force!" Bliss called. Charles Force looked curiously at the two girls standing in front of him.
"Excuse me," he told his lunch partner.
"Mr. Force, we're sorry to disturb you," Bliss said. "But we were told to come to you, that you alone can help us."
"You're Forsyth's kid, right?" Charles said abruptly. "What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Doesn't Duchesne have off-campus rules? Or did that go out with the uniforms?" He turned to Schuyler. "And you." He didn't say her name, but he raised his eyebrows. "If I'm not mistaken you're a Duchesne student as well. Well, you have my attention. How can I help you?"
Schuyler held his gaze and didn't flinch. She stared at him with her bright blue eyes, and it was he who turned away first. "Our friend Dylan is being accused of a murder he didn't commit. You are the only one who can help us. You are the Regis. My grandmother said—"
"Cordelia Van Alen is a menace. She has never forgiven me for taking command of the Conclave," he muttered. He motioned to his lunch partner, who was still patiently holding the door open to the restaurant. "Go ahead, I'll join you in a minute."
"We're not leaving until you help us," Bliss said—her voice quavering even though there was nothing she wanted more than to run and hide from the man. The voices in her head were screaming, demanding that she stay away from him. Killer… a voice in her head whispered. Murderer… She felt a deep and intense revulsion. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to throw herself in front of a cab. She wanted to fly, to flee, anything to escape from his penetrating gaze. She thought she was going to go mad with fright. There was something terrible about this man, a wild and dangerous power she should run from.
"Dylan Ward has been taken care of. There's no need to worry about him anymore," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He is perfectly safe. Nothing will happen to him. The police made a regrettable mistake. He's free. Your father could have told you that," he sniffed. "He helped with the paperwork for the release."
Bliss was momentarily shocked into silence. She hadn't realized it would be so easy. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said, the matter has been resolved," he said shortly. "There's no need to worry, I assure you. Now, please, I am late for my lunch."
Bliss and Schuyler exchanged uneasy looks.
"But what about the Silver Bloods? What about what they're doing to us? We know about Croatan!" Schuyler accused.
"Please, don't bother me with Cordelia Van Alen's pitiful fairy tales. I refuse to even discuss it. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is no such thing as Croatan," he said, a finality to his tone. "Now, I suggest you girls go back to school, where you belong."