Revelations (Blue Bloods 3)

Then Lawrence spoke no more.

Dark blood. There was blood everywhere. On her face. In her eyes. On her hands. On her clothes. Then slowly it began to vanish, the metallic tinge turned white and invisible as the cold night air hit the liquid. Vampire blood...

Bliss stared at her arms.

What happened?

She couldn't remember. She had blacked out.

Or had she?

The memories began to flood back.

She saw herself get inside the car with her parents, saw them nod at her. They were expecting her to accompany them. How strange. It was like being in a movie. She could see out of her eyes, but she could not move her arms or legs or even speak. Someone else was doing that for her.

Someone else was inside her body.

The man in the white suit.

Yes.

I am you. You are me. We are one, my daughter.

They arrived at a hilltop mansion, and Bliss remembered hiding in the shadows until the time came. She had watched the killing unfold with an overwhelming sense of horror. The massacre she had inflicted with her own hands. She had been imprisoned in her own body, a helpless figure, trapped inside her head while the other took over. Inside she had raged and wept and screamed. But she was powerless, with absolutely no ability to stop herself.

Slowly, she began to remember what happened during her blackouts. Began to realize the truth.

She was the one who had attacked Dylan that first night at The Bank. She had wanted to drain him, but something - a vestigial attraction to him - had stopped her, so she had taken Aggie instead. She had attempted to take Schuyler twice. That was why Schuyler's bloodhound had barked at her - Beauty knew her true nature even if Schuyler did not. Then she had attacked Cordelia, had almost taken her, if Dylan had not stopped her.

Dylan had been a problem. He knew but did not know. That was why his memory was so screwed up all the time. He knew the truth even though she'd tried to wipe it from his consciousness.

That first time he had returned to warn her about the Silver Bloods had resulted in that bloody scene in the bathroom. She remembered his blood-soaked leather jacket, the scratches on her face and the bruise on her neck. But he had escaped, and she'd had to send others to track him down. But the Venators got to him first. Oliver was wrong. They were not Silver Bloods. They had let Dylan go when they discovered he was innocent.

He was free to return to her.

The stupid, stupid boy.

"I know who the Silver Blood is," Dylan had said that night he crashed through the window. "It's you."

And right then and there, she had changed his memory. Made him think it was Schuyler.

A small, sad voice inside her began to cry.

I loved him. I loved Dylan.

We love no one.

No one but ourselves.

Forsyth had known all along. That's why she could never bring herself to ask him about Dylan, because somewhere in her subconscious she knew the reason why her father was keeping things from her. Because part of her could not accept who she really was.

She watched as she left the burning house, taking a car that had a body stuffed in the trunk. Dylan. She had taken him to the mountaintop, where Lawrence and Schuyler were waiting. Taken him to Corcovado, where he would be a sacrifice. There, she had shaped him in his image.

She had brought him to his death.

It was Lawrence's blade that struck, but it was she who had killed him.