She lowered her lashes flirtatiously. "Help me with something?" she asked, leading him away from the party.
In the shadows, she looked like a helpless beautiful girl, and without even thinking about it, Dylan found himself automatically following her farther and farther, deeper into the dark.
"But she invited me! I know the owner of this apartment!" Schuyler argued. She'd never even heard of a guest list for a house party. But then again, she'd never been invited to one. The elevator had opened to the lowest floor of the apartment, and Schuyler found her way barred by a cadre of stony-faced PR girls.
"Did you RSVP?" one of them demanded, snapping her gum and looking balefully at Schuyler's mismatched outfit. She was wearing a flowing tunic with layers of plastic beads, denim shorts over black leggings, and scuffed cowboy boots.
"I only heard about it today," Schuyler groaned.
"I'm sorry, you're not on the list," the clipboard girl replied, savoring the rejection.
Schuyler was about to step back into the elevator and go home, when Bliss appeared from behind a hidden doorway.
"Bliss!" Schuyler cried. "They won't let me in."
Bliss marched over. She had showered and changed into a slim-fitting Missoni dress with zigzagging stripes and high-heeled gladiator sandals. She took Schuyler by the arm and pulled her through the PR barricade, over the protests of the clipboard hellions. She led Schuyler into the main room, which was crowded with Duchesne kids angling for drinks at the bar, sprawling on couches, or dirty-dancing by the windows.
"Thanks," Schuyler said.
"Sorry about that. It's Mimi. I told her my parents were away and I was thinking of hosting a little get-together, and she puts together like, the MTV Movie Awards After Party."
Schuyler laughed. She looked around - there were go-go boys and go-go girls writhing in cages hung from the ceiling, and she recognized several famous faces in the mix. "Isn't that - ?" Schuyler asked, noticing a peppy teen actress funneling beers in front of a cheering crowd.
"Yeah," Bliss sighed. "C'mon, let me show you the rest of the place. It doesn't usually look like this."
"I'd love to - but I have to do something first."
Bliss raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I have to find Jack Force."
She had to find Jack. She had to tell him what had happened to her. They had barely spoken to each other since the night of the Informals, but she perceived he was the only one who would understand. She was fighting to hold on to the memory - already it was slipping - already she couldn't remember the exact details of where, why, or how it had happened - except for the eyes, eyes glimmering red in the dark, with silver pupils. Red eyes and sharp teeth.
But the Llewellyns' penthouse was like a house that magically expanded - everywhere you turned, there were rooms and rooms off innumerable hallways, with hidden treasures. Schuyler found an indoor lap pool, a fully equipped gym, and what looked to be a staffed day spa on the premises, complete with massage tables and essential oils, as well as a game room filled with old-fashioned carnival arcade toys, with mechanical fortune tellers and penny games, all of them in perfect working condition. She pushed a penny into a slot and removed her fortune.
YOU ARE A TRAVELER AT HEART.
MANY JOURNEYS AWAIT YOU.
She wished Oliver were there to see it.
"Have you seen Jack? Jack Force?" she asked everyone she bumped into.
She was told that he had just left, or was on another floor, or had just arrived. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.
At last, she found him in an empty guest bedroom on the uppermost floor. He was strumming a guitar and singing softly to himself. Downstairs was the house party of the century, but Jack preferred the silence upstairs.
"Schuyler?" he said, without looking up.
"Something happened," she said, closing the door behind her softly. Now that she'd finally found him, all the feelings she'd bottled up came out. She was trembling, so scared that she hadn't even noticed that he'd divined her presence from sense alone. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Without thinking twice, she ran to his side and sat next to him on the bed.
He put an arm around her protectively. "What's wrong?"
"I was at a photo shoot today, and afterward, I was walking alone... and I was... I can't remember..." She struggled for the words. For the images. At the time, they were burned into her brain, yet it felt like she was grasping - reaching for them. She held on to the tendrils of the memory - something terrible had almost happened to her - but what? What words could convey what had happened, and why was her memory betraying her? "I was attacked," she forced herself to say.
"What?" He cursed. He shook her shoulders, then held her close. "By whom? Tell me."
"I don't remember. It's gone, but it was... powerful, I couldn't stop it. Red... red eyes... teeth... going to suck... here," she said, pointing to her neck. "I felt it, deep into my veins... but look, I don't have any puncture wounds? I don't understand."