Bloody Valentine (Blue Bloods 5.50)

SEVEN

Dress Rehearsal

A toast,” Oliver proposed, standing with his wineglass raised. There were only four of them at the table: the happy couple and their two friends who had traveled so far to be with them today. They had weathered violence and evil, and now they were ready to celebrate.

Schuyler beamed and leaned back against Jack, waiting to see what Oliver would say. After they had escaped from the Villa Malavolta, leaving the Countess’s army of Vena-tors a crumpled and disbanded heap and no longer a threat to anyone’s safety, they had followed Jack back up to the city streets. They had seen their friends safely to their hotel, and after allowing a few hours to freshen up and recover from their latest adventure, they had agreed to meet at a local trattoria for dinner.

Oliver had taken her aside on the walk from the palazzo to the restaurant, linking arms with her. “He won’t mind, will he?” he smiled, motioning to Jack.

Schuyler shook her head. “Of course not, Ollie. It’s so good to see you,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze. She marveled at the ease of their affection. When they had parted ways at the airport just a few months ago, she had wondered if she would ever see him again, and it made her heart swell to see him looking so happy and healthy. “You look different. You look better. What did the Venators do to you?” she joked.

“Nothing this old boy can’t handle,” he assured her. “But you’re right. I am different.”

He told her about Freya, the witch who had cured his heart and his blood. “I am no longer marked,” he said.

“I felt it.” She nodded. She scanned his open, friendly face. “I am so glad.” They were back to their former allegiance, two friends, their emotions neatly organized back to the way it used to be. Oliver was right. It had to be magic.

“So is it serious?” she teased.

Oliver shook his head. “No. I’ll probably never see her again, but it’s okay. Don’t you worry about me,” he said, before planting a hearty kiss on her forehead.

“Hey!” Jack called. “Only the groom gets to kiss the bride!”

Schuyler and Oliver giggled, and they followed Jack and Bliss into

the small café. When the manager found out it was a pre-wedding dinner, they were treated to a feast: steaming plates of tender beef carpaccio and grilled zucchini, white truffle carbonara, ravioli stuffed with pears and pecorino cheese, a buttery and tender Florentine steak. For dessert, there were plates of Sacher torte and tarte tatin and the best tiramisu Schuyler had ever tasted.

Now Oliver was standing in the middle of the restaurant, clearing his throat. “A toast,” he said. “A toast to an amazing couple. I wanted to say something simple and elegant for this momentous occasion, so I’ll leave it to the poets instead. This is a poem that was composed for a wedding.” He began to read from a poem by Frank O’Hara. It was a winding tale of love and friendship, and the group listened keenly. “‘This poem goes on too long because our friendship has been long, long for this life and these times.’” Oliver smiled. “‘And I would make it as long as I hope our friendship lasts if I could make poems that long.’”

“Hear, hear,” Jack cheered, and Schuyler clinked his glass.

Oliver took his seat to wild applause, as even the rest of the restaurant’s patrons had stopped to listen to the music of his words.

Bliss stood up next. “Ollie, you’re a hard act to follow,” she chided. She cleared her throat. “I just want to say how honored I am to be here today. We love you, Sky, and because we love Sky, we love you too, Jack. Take care of each other. Be kind to each other. You have all our good wishes and all of our hearts. Don’t forget us and don’t forget to ask for help when you need it.” She paused, and for a moment Schuyler thought Bliss would talk about the many dangers they would soon be facing. Her friends knew that after the bonding, she and Jack would be separated, that this was just a small bubble, an oasis of happiness before a long and dark story of separation and unknown menace.

After tomorrow, the four of them would each set off from Italy on their own perilous journeys. Oliver back to New York, where vampires were being mysteriously abducted; Bliss to search for the elusive Hellhounds; Schuyler to Alexandria to fulfill her grandfather’s legacy; and Jack to return to face his twin and his destiny, to see if he could win the battle with Death herself.

But Bliss did not mention any of the darkness. She did not have to: they were all thinking the same thing. In a clear voice, she called out, “To Schuyler and Jack!”

There was a bang of wineglasses and merrymaking. Bliss gave Schuyler a fierce hug. Schuyler pulled Jack into the embrace, and Bliss made room for Oliver, so that the four of them were linked in an unbroken circle.

EIGHT

Wedding Morning

Early the next morning in the privacy of their bed, Schuyler huddled closer to Jack. She could feel the sunlight streaming into the room, filling it with warmth. Today was their bonding day. She felt his hand on the small of her back, his skin on her skin as he slipped it underneath the light fabric. She turned to him so that she was enveloped, crushed in his arms.

Without saying a word, Jack began to kiss her cheek and her neck, and Schuyler felt his body move over hers, felt the heaviness of him settle upon her. After tonight, they would be bonded.

But that morning, they were still just two people.

After all those trysts in the secret apartment, one would think they had already crossed this line. But she was still chaste. Still innocent, although perhaps not as naive as a virgin bride slipping into her wedding bed, nervous and shaking. No. Not that innocent. But she had wanted to wait for this, had wanted to wait until she was ready, and now she did not want to wait any longer.

She opened her eyes and found him staring at her. The question in his eyes was answered by her kiss. Yes, my darling. Yes. Now.

She lifted his shirt above his chest and helped him undress, her fingers lightly skimming the length of his body. He was so beautiful and warm and solid. And he was hers. She felt pliant and soft underneath him. His skin was hot to the touch, and it felt as if they were both burning, burning.

She could not breathe, she could not think, she could only feel—only feel his kiss and his touch and his weight and the two of them together.