Blue Bloods (Blue Bloods 1)

He didn't turn around. She saw him walk purposefully down to the second landing, where Mimi Force was coming out of a classroom. She saw the two of them together, noticing as if for the first time that they had the same lithe form, the same panther limbs, they were the same height, the same coloring. She saw Mimi smile when she saw Jack. As Jack slung an arm around his sister's shoulders in an intimate and affectionate way, something in her heart broke.

"What did Jack say?" Bliss asked, meeting Schuyler and Oliver for coffee at the Starbucks across the street during their free period.

"He's no help," Schuyler said, the words dead in her mouth.

"Why not?"

"He's changed his mind. He says that what he told me was a mistake. He told me to forget about it." She tore a paper napkin into tiny pieces, meticulously ripping it apart until her tray was filled with confetti. "He said The Committee will explain everything in time, we just need to be patient," she said bitterly.

"But what about Dylan?" Bliss asked. "We can't just let them charge him for something he didn't do!"

"We're not. It's up to us," Oliver said. "We're the only, ones who can help him now."

;

CHAPTER 31

The next week went by swiftly. Every day after school, Schuyler and Oliver hit the stacks at the Repository, trying to find any record or mention of "Croatan." They combed through the computer database, trying every conceivable spelling of the word. But since the library files were only automated in the late 1980s, they also had to reference the ancient card catalog.

"Can I help you?" a grave voice asked as they huddled together at Oliver's desk one afternoon, poring over dozens of old books and several cards from the "Cr - Cu" drawer.

"Oh, Master Renfield. May I introduce Schuyler Van Alen?" Oliver asked, standing up and making a small, formal bow.

Schuyler shook the old man's hand. He had a haughty, aristocratic visage and was dressed in an anachronistic Edwardian greatcoat and velvet trousers. Oliver had told her about Renfield - a human Conduit who took his job way too seriously. "He's been serving the Blue Bloods for so long he thinks he is a vampire. Classic Stockholm Syndrome," Oliver had said.

"I think we've got it covered." Oliver smiled nervously. They had tacitly decided not to ask any of the librarians for any help with their search, intuitively understanding that it was an illicit subject. If The Committee was hiding something, and that something had to do with "Croatan," then it was probably best if they didn't tell anyone about it.

Renfield picked up a piece of paper from Oliver's desk, where Schuyler had scribbled down a series of words. "Croatan? Kroatan? Chroatan? Chroatin? Kruatan?" He quickly put the paper down, as if it burned his fingers.

"Croatan. I see," he said.

Oliver attempted a casual tone. "It's just something we heard about. It's nothing. Just a school project."

"A school project," Renfield nodded somberly. "Of course. Unfortunately, I have never heard of the word. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"I think it's a piece of cheese. Something to do with an old English recipe." Oliver replied with a straight face. "From Blue Blood banquets in the sixteenth century."

"Cheese. I see."

"Like Roquefort or Camembert. But I'm thinking it's more like a sheep's milk, maybe," Oliver said. "Or a goat. It could be a goat. Or maybe like a mozzarella. What do you think, Sky?"

Schuyler's lips were twitching and she couldn't trust herself to answer.

"Very well. Carry on," Renfield said, leaving them to their task.

When he was safely at a far distance, Schuyler and Oliver burst out laughing - as softly as they could.

"Cheese!" Schuyler whispered. "I thought he was going to faint!"

It was the one bright spot in an otherwise dreary week. The colder weather brought a rash of ailments. The flu bug hit the school, and several students had been out for the past couple of days, Jack Force among them. Apparently, even vampires weren't immune to the flu epidemic. Schuyler also heard Bliss had been grounded since the party, and the tall Texan girl kept to herself. Even Dylan complained about it - Bliss was moody and remote, and never left Mimi's side.

The next day was bitter cold and gray. The first sign that winter was approaching. It was a New York gray - from the buildings to the smog to the skies - as if a dark, damp cloud had descended on the city like a wet blanket. When Schuyler arrived at the Duchesne gates, a dark mist hung over a bustling commotion in front of the school. She passed several white news vans with satellite antennas, and a crew of reporters primping, checking their teeth in handheld mirrors, and grooming before the cameras rolled. There were camera crews with tripods everywhere, as well as newspaper and magazine reporters and photographers - an even bigger mob than on the day of Aggie's funeral.

Several Duchesne students were huddled at the front doors, watching the scene. She found Oliver in the crowd and joined him.

"What's happened?" she asked.

Oliver looked grim. "Something awful. I feel it."