"Shoot," Jack said, stretching his legs out in front of him and loping his long arm over the edge of the chair so that his fingers rested lightly on her shoulders. She tingled at his slightest touch.
"Is it true that the bond between you and—"
"I don't want to talk about the bond," Jack said, cutting her off and withdrawing his arm. His face turned cold, and for a moment she saw a flash of his true nature, saw the dark angel that he was. The angel who had wrought destruction in Paradise, the one who would sound the trumpet to the Apocalypse when it came. His was the face of Abbadon, the enforcer, the hammer blow, the most dangerous soldier in the army of the Almighty.
"But I want to know—"
"Shh." Jack turned to her and pressed a hand on her cheek. "Let's not…"
"But Mimi…" Just as Schuyler said her name, she sensed a presence at the front doorway. Mimi was home, or just about to be. Quicker than a blink, or at maximum vampire speed, Schuyler left the living room and ran to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
When Mimi entered mere seconds later, carrying several shopping bags with her, she found Jack reading a book by himself.
Schuyler and Jack weren't alone again that evening. The entire family gathered for their mandatory dinner a few hours later. Once a week, Trinity Burden, their mother, required that the children be home to join their parents for dinner. Schuyler had once dreamed of a nuclear family, of a life that included a loving mother, an attentive father, and siblings who would tease each other over the meat and potatoes.
Of course, the Forces were nothing like this.
Meals at home were served in the formal dining room, on a table so large and intimidating, each person was seated a good two feet away from the other. Each entree was served by a butler on a silver tray, and the menu never varied—it was always French, it was always rich and complicated, and it was always perfectly delicious. Yet Schuyler missed Hattie's no-nonsense slapdash cooking, and longed for simple, unpretentious servings of macaroni-and-cheese or a pot roast that didn't require a red-wine reduction and an accent to pronounce.
Conversation was stale or nonexistent. Charles continued to be lost in his own world, while Trinity tried to engage the twins in perfunctory chatter about their lives. Jack was courteous while Mimi was simply curt. At least someone other than Schuyler thought these dinners were a farce and a waste of time.
"So, Jack and I have an announcement," Mimi said, when the dessert course arrived, a flaming peaches jubilee. "We've decided on the date of our bonding."
Schuyler tried to compose her face but found she could not help staring at Jack, who looked as impassive as ever. Their bonding! So soon…
Mimi reached out to hold her brother's hand in hers.
"It's a little early, don't you think?" Trinity asked, looking concerned. "You have a lot of time."
Yes, Schuyler thought. Lots and lots of time. Possibly forever.
Charles coughed. "Remember that age is an illusion among us, Trinity. You are starting to think like a Red Blood. The sooner they bond, the stronger they will be. A toast is in order. To the twins."
"To us!" Mimi crowed, clinking her glass against Jack's. The crystal rang like a deep booming bell.
"To the twins," Schuyler whispered. She sipped but found she could not swallow the wine in her glass.
Later that night as Schuyler dreamed, she received a message from Lawrence. The sending was easier in the dream state, he explained. It was not as shocking to the senses, and asleep her mind held no distractions. "Corcovado secure. All is well."
Hiring Lizbet Tilton was the best decision she could have made, Mimi thought, congratulating herself on her savvy. Lizbet ran a very tight ship, and in short order the venues were locked in on the requested dates, contracts drafted, budgets balanced, deposits made. Earlier that afternoon Trinity and Mimi had gone over color schemes and menus with the caterer and the interior designer. Everything was operating like clockwork; although you'd think it was the doomsday clock, the way Jack was acting.
"Do you know what this is about?" he asked, meeting Mimi in Trinity's sitting room the next evening.
Their "mother"—Mimi always thought of the word in air quotes, since Trinity was as much her mother as Jack was her brother—had requested their presence before dinner. She had intimated that she wanted to talk to them about something important concerning their bonding.
"I have a feeling." Mimi smiled. She ruffled Jack's hair, and in return he put a hand on her waist and drew her close to him. They had always been affectionate, and even though she was aware of his continuing duplicity, she could not harden her heart against him. Jack hadn't agreed to bonding so early in the cycle, but on the other hand, he hadn't done anything to stop it either.
Perhaps the dalliance with Schuyler was simply that. Jack was just using her as an amusement. A side dish. Mimi certainly understood. She had found a tasty new familiar, and had been so voracious in her appetite she had almost killed the boy the other day. He would be all right; nothing that rest and a week away from a certain blond vampire couldn't cure.
Mimi looked around with approval. Trinity's home office was famous among her set for being the most lavish and impeccable. Hung on the velvet walls were life-size portraits of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century aristocrats by Vigйe-LeBrun and Winterhalter. There was an Erard piano in the corner—the very same one Chopin used to compose his etudes. The bonheurs du jour, a small, elegant writing table where Trinity wrote her one-word thank you cards ("Bravo!" was her usual exhortation after attending a friend's dinner party) was originally commissioned for the Grand Trianon.
Mimi decided that when she came into her massive inheritance, and she and Jack bought their own place at 740 Park, she would hire the same decorator.
A few minutes later, Trinity entered the room holding two long ebony boxes embossed with gold filigree. Mimi's senses shifted, her memories racing, and she suddenly knew why they were there. "But where's Charles?" she cried. "We can't do this without him, can we?"
"I tried, my dear. But he won't leave his study. He's just…" Trinity shook her shoulders ever so slightly. Mimi understood that her mother adhered to a rigid code of etiquette. As distressed as she might be about her husband's condition, she would never admit to it or show any outward display of exasperation. She was a woman who was fundamentally unequipped to make a scene.
Charles's deterioration since losing his position as Regis of the Coven was something that the Forces never spoke about. It baffled and troubled them, but there was nothing they could do about it. They assumed Charles would simply snap out of it one day. Meanwhile, the company and all its holdings was run by a highly efficient board of directors, who had stopped inquiring as to whether their chairman and founder would ever attend another meeting.
"It's all right," Jack assured his twin. He too knew what was about to happen and couldn't disguise the excitement in his voice. "We don't need him."
"Are you sure?" Mimi asked, looking disappointed. "But without the Archangel's blessing …"
"They will be just as deadly," Jack soothed. "Nothing can change their power. Their power comes from the two of us." He nodded to Trinity. "Shall we begin, Mother?"
In answer, Trinity bowed her head. "I shall be honored to perform the rite." She closed the door quietly and dimmed the overhead lights. The boxes on the coffee table emanated a soft, hazy glow.
"I regret my hastiness in judging the precipitancy of your bonding. I was wrong, forgive me. It is perhaps only that I am saddened that I myself can no longer be bonded to my twin."