"So if your father isn't the Silver Blood, then who is?" Schuyler asked suspiciously. "And where's Dylan?"
"He's safe. For now. Hidden. He won't harm anyone else anymore," Charles said. "Tomorrow he will be far away."
"What do you mean, harm anyone?" Schuyler asked.
"He had the bites on his neck. He was being used. Turned."
"Into what? What are you talking about?"
"Dylan's a Blue Blood," Charles said shortly. "At least, he was. I thought you knew that."
Schuyler shook her head. Dylan was a vampire? But then that meant - that meant he could have killed Aggie - that meant that everything they thought, everything they assumed could no longer be true. Dylan wasn't human. Which meant there was a chance he wasn't innocent.
"But he was never at any meetings," Schuyler said weakly.
Charles smiled. "They are not mandatory. You can learn about your history or choose to ignore it. Dylan chose to ignore it. To his detriment. The Silver Bloods only attack the weak-minded. They are drawn to those that are broken, damaged somehow. They sensed Dylan's weakness and preyed on it. Dylan, in turn, preyed on others."
"So then it was him. He killed Aggie?"
"It is unfortunate what happened with Aggie, yes. We have discovered that Dylan had been drained of almost all his blood in the original attack, but the Silver Blood decided not to consume him totally and turned him into one of them instead. To survive, he had to take a victim of his own," Charles explained. "I am sorry."
Schuyler was speechless for a moment. All along, all along they had thought he was their friend. Dylan, a vampire... worse, a Silver Blood's pawn. It was horrifying. "So, Silver Bloods do exist. You admit that they have returned."
"I admit nothing," Charles declared haughtily. "There could be other explanations for his actions. Dylan could still be acting on his own. It does happen once in a while. Dementia. The Sunset Years are volatile ones for our kind. He could have faked the marks on his neck. We must investigate through the proper channels. If he has been corrupted, there is still a chance to save his soul. For now we have placed him and his parents in a safe location."
"But you can't do this. Cover it up. You must warn everybody. You must."
"Just like your grandmother, you are," Charles said. "A pity. Your mother was not a hysterical woman." He looked tenderly down at Allegra and lowered his voice. "The Conclave will take care of it. We will act in time."
"Yet in Plymouth, you did nothing," Schuyler accused. "Roanoke - they were all taken, yet you did nothing."
"And the deaths stopped," Charles said coldly. "If we had frightened everyone, if we had continued to run, as your grandparents advised, we would never be where we are now. We would be hiding forever, afraid of a shadow that may not exist."
"But Aggie - and the girl from Connecticut and the Choate boy," Schuyler argued. "What about them?"
Charles sighed. "Unfortunate losses, all of them, yes."
Schuyler couldn't believe what she was hearing. Talking about people as if their lives were expendable.
"We will clear this all up in time, I assure you," Charles said. "We won the battle in Rome. The Silver Bloods are all but destroyed."
"My grandmother said that one of them lived, that one of them was able to hide among us... that the most powerful Silver Blood may still be alive," Schuyler said, walking around her mother's bed to face Charles head-on.
"Cordelia has always said that. She persists in saying that. She is mistaken. I was there. I was there at the battle at the temple. Listen to me closely, both of you, because I do not want to repeat this again - I sent Lucifer himself to the fires of hell," Charles declared.
Schuyler was subdued and silent.
"Now, let us leave your mother in peace," Charles ordered. He knelt down again and kissed Allegra's cold hand.
"But there is one thing," Schuyler suddenly remembered. "Dylan."
"Yes?" Charles asked.
"Where is he?"
"At the Carlyle Hotel. I told you, he is safe."
"No, he's not. He's not at the Carlyle anymore. I was just there. He's gone." Schuyler told them what they had found - the television blaring, the half-eaten dinner. "I think he was the one who attacked me."