Blue Bloods

CHAPTER 23

It was maddening how your best friend could twist the knobs inside of you so much that it hurt. Oliver had known just where to stab his little barbs. Pod Person indeed! What about him, with his Vespa and his one-hundred-dollar haircuts? And his yearly birthday parties on board his family's two-hundred-foot yacht? Wasn't that just another stab at the popularity that eluded him?

Ever since The Committee meeting and the tea with Cordelia, Schuyler felt uprooted, unmoored, on unsteady ground. There was so much her grandmother had confirmed about their past—and so much she had still left out. Why was her mother in a coma? What had happened to her father? Schuyler felt more lost than ever, especially since Oliver had stopped speaking to her. They had never argued about anything before—they used to joke that they were just two halves of the same person. They liked all of the same things (5 °Cent, sci-fi movies, pastrami sandwiches slathered with mustard) and disliked all of the same things (Eminem, pretentious Academy Award fodder, self-righteous vegetarians). But now that Schuyler had moved Jack from the «Not» to the «Hot» column, without campaigning for Oliver's approval, he had cut her off.

The rest of the week passed by without incident, Cordelia left for her annual fall sojourn on The Vineyard, Oliver continued to refuse to even acknowledge her existence, and she hadn't had a chance to talk to Jack again. But for once, she was too busy with real-world concerns— passing biology, getting her homework done, turning in her English essays—to deal with either of them.

Her jaw hurt whenever she extended and retracted her fangs, and she was relieved to find she didn't feel that deep-set hunger yet. She learned from her grandmother that the Caerimonia Osculor, the Sacred Kiss, was a very special ceremony, and most Blue Bloods waited until the age of consent (eighteen) to perform it; although incidents of pre-term sucking were rising with every generation—some vampires were even as young as fourteen or fifteen when they took their first human familiar. Taking a Red Blood without his or her consent was also against The Code.

On a whim, she decided to visit her mother at the hospital that Friday afternoon after school, since Oliver hadn't invited her to come over and hang out at his place as usual. Besides, she had a plan, and she didn't want to wait until Sunday to try it out. Instead of reading from the newspaper like she did every week, she was going to ask her mother some questions instead. Even if her mother couldn't answer her, Schuyler would feel better just getting them off her chest.

The hospital was quieter on a weekday afternoon. There weren't as many visitors in the lobby, and there was a desolate, abandoned feeling to the building. Life was lived elsewhere; even the nurses looked anxious to take off for the weekend.

Schuyler looked through the glass again before stepping inside her mother's room. Just as before, there, by the foot of the bed, was the same gray-haired man. He was saying something to her mother. Schuyler pressed her ear against the door.

"Forgive me … forgive me … wake up, please, let me help you…"

Schuyler watched and listened. She knew who it was. It had to be him. Schuyler felt her heart beat in excitement.

The man kept talking. "You have punished me long enough, you have punished yourself long enough. Return to me. I beg."

Her mother's nurse appeared at her elbow. "Hi, Schuyler, what are you doing? Why don't you go inside?" she asked.

"Don't you see him?" Schuyler whispered, indicating the glass.

"See who?" The nurse asked, puzzled. "I don't see anybody."

Schuyler pressed her lips together. So only she could see the stranger. It was as she thought, and she felt a flutter of anticipation. "You don't?"

The nurse shook her head and looked at Schuyler as if there were something slightly wrong with her.

"Yeah, it's just a trick of the light," Schuyler said. "I thought I saw something…"

The nurse nodded and walked away.

Schuyler entered the room. The mysterious visitor had disappeared, but Schuyler noticed that the chair was still warm. She looked around the room and began to call out softly, the first time she had done so since she had spotted the crying stranger.

"Dad?" Schuyler whispered, walking into the next room, a fully furnished living room suite for guests, and looked around. "Dad? Is that you? Are you there?"

There was no answer, and the man did not reappear. Schuyler sat down on the chair he had vacated.

"I want to know about my father," Schuyler said to the silent woman in the bed. "Stephen Chase. Who was he? What did he do to you? What happened? Is he still alive? Does he come visit you? Was he here, just now?" She raised her voice, so that if the visitor was still within earshot, he would hear her. So that her father would know that she knew it was him. She wished he would stay and talk to her.

Cordelia had always given her the impression that her father had done some grievous harm to her mother. That he had never loved her—a fact that she could not reconcile with the image of the sobbing man by her mother's bed.

"Mom, I need your help," Schuyler pleaded. "Cordelia says you can get up anytime you want, but you won't. "Wake up, Mom. Wake up for me.

"Please."

But the woman on the bed didn't move. There was no reply.

"Stephen Chase. Your husband. He died when I was born. Or so Cordelia tells me. Is that true? Is my father dead? Mother? Please. I need to know."

Not even a toe wiggle. Not even a sigh.

Schuyler gave up her questions and picked up the newspaper again. She continued to read the wedding announcements, feeling oddly comforted by the litany of marital unions and their homogeneity. When she had read every single one, she stood up and kissed her mother on the cheek.

Allegra's skin was cold and waxy to the touch.

Like touching death.

Schuyler left, more disheartened than ever.