Blue Bloods (Blue Bloods 1)

CHAPTER 22

Cordelia had asked Schuyler to meet her for tea in the St. Regis lobby after school. She was waiting for her at their usual table when Schuyler arrived. Her grandmother was sitting in the middle of a bright, beautiful room, Schuyler's bloodhound resting at her feet. The St. Regis didn't usually allow pets in the dining room, but they made an exception for Cordelia. After all, the Astor Court was named after Cordelia's great-grandmother.

Schuyler walked up to her, feeling a mixture of anger and apprehension.

Her grandmother sat serenely, her arms folded on her lap. She looked vibrant and energetic. Her skin glowed, and her hair was a pale, platinum blond, with just a hint of the lightest silver. For the first time, Schuyler noticed that her grandmother always looked like this after her weekly treatment at Jorge's. But now she wondered - was the flamboyant South American merely her hairdresser? Or one of Cordelia's human familiars? Schuyler decided she didn't want to know.

"May I be the first to offer congratulations," Cordelia said.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be so happy about," Schuyler replied.

Cordelia motioned to the chair across from her. "Sit down, granddaughter. We have much to talk about." A tuxedoed waiter approached, and Cordelia ordered the three-course tea service. "Chinese Flowers for me, please," Cordelia decided, closing the menu.

Schuyler sat down, and Beauty nestled her head on Schuyler's lap. Schuyler patted her dog absently, wondering if Beauty were really her guardian angel, or just a stray dog that she'd found on the street. She took a cursory glance at the leather-bound menu and paged through it. "Earl Grey is fine for me, thanks."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Schuyler demanded, when the waiter had left.

"It is not our way," Cordelia said simply. "The burden of knowing oneself shouldn't be cast until you are ready. And we have found Priscilla does an excellent job with the induction ceremony."

Priscilla DuPont. The Chief Warden. Committee Chair. Socialite. Whatever she really was.

"Cordelia, how old are you exactly?" Schuyler asked.

Cordelia smiled. A rueful, knowing smile. "You have guessed correctly. I have gone beyond the usual cycle. I am tiring of this Expression. But I have my reasons for staying."

"Because of my mother ..." Schuyler said. It dawned on her that Cordelia had been allowed to live longer so that she could take care of her, since her mother was ... what was her mother doing exactly? If she was an all-powerful vampire, then why was she in a coma?

Her grandmother looked pained. "Yes. Your mother has made some terrible choices."

"Why? Why is she in a coma? If she's invulnerable, why won't she wake up?"

"That is not for me to discuss," Cordelia said sharply. "Whatever she has done, you should count yourself privileged to have her heritage."

Schuyler wanted to ask her grandmother what she meant by that, but the waiter had arrived bearing a silver three-story tray laden with scones, sandwiches, and petit fours. Shiny silver teapots filled with brewing tea were placed next to their porcelain cups.

Schuyler hastened to pour and was admonished by her grandmother. "The strainer."

She nodded and placed the silver tea-leaf catcher on top of her cup. The waiter took the teapot and poured the hot tea into the cup. The pleasant aroma of steeped bergamot filled her senses. She smiled. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd enjoyed the afternoon ritual. In the background, the harpist was playing a gentle melody.

For a few moments, nothing was said as she and her grandmother helped themselves to the treats. Schuyler put a lavish spoonful of Devonshire cream on a scone and topped it off with a dollop of lemon curd. She took a bite, murmuring her delight.

Cordelia dabbed her napkin on her mouth. She chose a small finger sandwich filled with crab salad, took a tiny bite, then put it back on her plate.

Schuyler discovered she was starving. She took a sandwich - a thin, square cucumber one, and another scone.

The waiter silently refilled the top two levels of their tray, gliding in unobtrusively.

"What did you mean by lucky?" she asked her grandmother. She was confused. It sounded like she'd had some sort of choice for being who she was, but from all she learned at the meeting, being a Blue Blood was her destiny.

Cordelia shrugged. She lifted the lid of her teapot and frowned at the waiter who was standing quietly against the wall. "I'd like some more hot water please," she said.

"Are you really my grandmother?" Schuyler asked, between bites of the smoked salmon on rye.

Cordelia smiled again. It was disconcerting, as if a curtain had been raised and Schuyler was finally allowed a real peek at the old woman.

"Technically, no. You are wise to discern that. There have been Four Hundred of us since the beginning of time. We do not have progeny in the traditional sense. As you have learned, through the cycles, many are called but some choose to rest. More and more of us are resting, slumbering, choosing not to evolve and staying in the primal state. When our bodies expire, all that is left is a single drop of blood with our DNA pattern, and when it is time to release a new spirit, those of us who choose to carry are implanted with the new life. So in a way, we are all related, but we are not related at all. But you are my charge and my responsibility."

Schuyler was bewildered by her grandmother's words. What exactly did she mean by that? "And my father?" she asked tentatively, thinking of the tall man in the dark suit who visited her mother.