Ahramin raised an eyebrow.

"You and Edon can take care of things here with Mac and Rafe. I should be the one talking to the vampires," he decided. "I should speak for the wolves."

"Fine," said Ahramin, as if it didn't matter either way.

Malcolm reached out and held Bliss's hand. "I don't want us to be separated now that we're a pack," he said.

"Don't worry," Bliss said. "My friends will be able to help. Lawson, are you sure about this? I can go alone. It's not like I haven't done it before."

"Positive," Lawson said. "I'm coming with you."

So it was decided. Lawson and Bliss would travel to find the vampires, while the rest of the pack would regroup with Arthur.

Bliss rented a car, a subcompact Hyundai, which was a far cry from being chauffeured around in a silver Rolls, but although she still had a working credit card, she had to be careful. After battling hounds and moving through the passages, the ten-hour drive to the city was surprisingly relaxing. Bliss let Lawson take the wheel, even if he drove like a speed demon.

"Hey, lead foot, give it a break, will you?" she teased. "Sort of following that car closely, aren't you?"

"Am I? I didn't notice," he said, giving her a sheepish grin.

For a moment Bliss was keenly reminded of the night they'd spent together, when they had almost...well. No point in thinking of that now. It was just a mistake anyway. Lawson had been mourning Tala, the mate he had lost, and Bliss had been too drunk to truly understand what was happening. They were friends, and that's all they were going to be. She decided not to press. What was more annoying than a girl who wanted everything spelled out? What's going on with us? How do you feel about me? She cringed at the thought that she could be so needy.

So instead she filled the time by telling him about vampire society, about the Committee meetings, the life cycles of rest and reincarnation, the Covens and the Conduits, and Schuyler's quest to protect the Gates of Hell from the threat of the Silver Blood demons.

"I know it's a lot to lay on you right now," she said.

"The better I understand what's going on, the more helpful I can be," he replied. "Don't worry, I like listening to you."

She smiled at him but didn't want to let herself think that everything would go back to normal - what was normal, anyway? - but it was comforting to know that maybe they could resume their friendship.

"So what's our strategy?" he asked, as they drove through Pennsylvania.

"First, we go to Schuyler's house, see if she's there. She probably won't be, but it's worth a shot. Then we go to Oliver's."

"Her Conduit, right?"

He'd been paying attention. "He used to be, anyway. That's a whole other story, and not worth getting into right now. Last I heard, he was serving as Conduit for Mimi Force."

"Jack's twin. I'm starting to catch on, I think."

They drove the rest of the way without speaking, listening to the radio. A year didn't change much, Bliss thought. Most of the songs were the same ones she'd heard before, and the new ones sounded just like the old ones.

When they reached Manhattan, Bliss directed Lawson to the Upper West Side. She noted with some amusement that Lawson's driving seemed to be getting more cautious now that he was around the aggressive New York City taxi drivers.

"Okay, just double-park in front of that building," she said, pointing to an elegant, if slightly shabby, mansionette on Riverside Drive. "We can always move the car if Schuyler's here."

"Are you sure? What if we get a ticket?" he asked, but he did as she suggested. Quite a change of pace - she was used to either being in Lawson's world or in a place neither of them was familiar with. Here she was at home, and it felt good to be in charge.

No surprise to find Schuyler not at home. The brownstone was shuttered, the curtains drawn, and the place looked as if it had been abandoned. Bliss directed Lawson to the Upper East Side, and going crosstown took almost an hour in the early evening traffic. "That was hell," he grumbled.

"Welcome to New York," Bliss said with a smile. "They say the subway's faster, but..."

"Don't tell me: you've never taken it. Lifestyles of the rich and famous," he teased.

"Well, I've never been in a Hyundai, that's for sure."

They left the car in front of Oliver's building and went inside. The doorman must have been on a smoke break, because the desk was vacant.

"Should we wait?" Lawson asked.

Bliss just grabbed his arm and went to the elevator, then pressed the button for the penthouse. She'd only been to Oliver's place a couple of times, but it was hard to forget. Lavish even for New York, it took up the top three stories of the building. Oliver had his own floor, complete with the game room that had made going to his house so popular with Schuyler and Dylan.

Dylan.

Bliss didn't want to think about him now.

The elevator opened into the apartment, so they didn't have to worry about knocking. "Oliver?" Bliss called out. "Mr. Hazard-Perry? Mrs. H-P? Anybody home?"

Her voice echoed in the silence of the apartment.

"Looks like we struck out," Lawson said.

"It's a big place," she replied. "Let's make sure."

Bliss walked through the enormous formal dining room, through the kitchen and up the stairs to Oliver's floor. His bedroom door was open, and it was a mess in there. Not like Oliver. The bed was unmade and there were clothes everywhere.

"Ransacked," Lawson said.

Bliss shook her head. "He was packing. Must have wanted to get out of here in a hurry." If she was right, things were worse than she'd thought. Still, he'd left some books on the desk, journals and a few loose papers pressed inside that looked like e-mail printouts. Could be handy. She grabbed them all.

"What do we do now?" Lawson asked, looking uncomfortable.

"There's another place he might go, or where people might be able to help us," she said. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Chapter Eight

Schuyler

ucas said you wanted to see me?" Tilly St. James was a striking girl, with a thick row of severe bangs across her forehead, her long red hair falling in a straight line down her back. She was wearing a black turtleneck and black leather trousers, and was holding pushpins between her teeth. "Sorry - we're doing a fitting for the final show. Come on - why don't you guys take a seat and watch the run-through, then we can talk."

Schuyler and Oliver took seats in the dark auditorium. Central Saint Martins - a design school located in central London - ran one of the most prestigious undergraduate fashion design programs in the world. York Hall was a madhouse of students rushing around getting ready for the winter showcase, a hive of activity as young designers ran backstage with fabric rolls, muslin patterns, and tape measures looped around their necks.

Schuyler took a sip from her cappuccino and smiled to herself, remembering her brief encounter with the fashion industry. Three years had gone by since she was pulled out of the crowd at Duchesne and tapped to be a Farnsworth girl. She had been such a little mouse then. Unable to say "boo" to the intimidating and beautiful Mimi Force. Schuyler felt affection for the scared little girl she had once been. She had weathered the worst - her mother gone, along with Cordelia and Lawrence, and saying good-bye to Jack in Egypt was the most difficult burden to bear yet - but Schuyler felt stronger than she had in years. Jack's love made me stronger, she thought. And letting go of our love has made me stronger still.

The theater was empty save for a few curious first- and second-years eager to see what the seniors had up their designer sleeves. Tomorrow night, the whole world would be watching to see the latest creations hatched from the experimental laboratory, with reporters from the trade and popular press eager to document the birth of a new design star.

The curtain parted and Tilly jumped down from the stage and ran up to Schuyler. "Sorry - we're short a model - you're about the right size and look....Would you mind walking for us?"

Schuyler laughed, feeling flattered. But before she could answer, a glamazon - six feet tall, all cheekbones and thick dark hair; an exotic, wild creature - stomped down the aisle in three-inch clogs. "Tills! Sorry, the tube was blocked - some sort of accident at Euston Station - had to call a minicab."

"Gooch! Thank God!" Tilly shrieked as they exchanged effusive air-kisses.

Oliver nudged Schuyler. "Close call," he said with a grin.

"Ollie? What are you doing here?" the model asked, upon spotting Oliver. "Brilliant party the other night, by the way! I had a colossal hangover the next morning!"

Oliver tried to explain, but he too was given the frantic double air-kiss before the two gorgeous girls disappeared back behind the curtain.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised?" Schuyler asked with a wry smile. "You do seem to know half the girls in London."

Oliver didn't even blush. "Oh, that's just Gucci Westfield-Smith. A friend of Kingsley's."

"Uh-huh. Right," Schuyler said.

The lights went out and the show began; the overhead speakers blared a song that was all thumping bass line and sultry breathing. The model - Gucci Something-or-other - walked out wearing nothing but a feather headdress and a nude bodysuit. She walked with her hands on her h*ps and gave Oliver a seductive glower at the end of the runway before twisting away.

Tilly came out from behind the stage and took a seat next to Schuyler and Oliver. "Shhh," the designer said, smiling with anticipation.

There were more variations on the Nude/Native theme. More elaborate headdresses, fringed Navajo ponchos, suede moccasins, and dresses made out of multicolored plumage and rows of beads.

"So, what did you think?" Tilly asked, when the lights came on and the models had returned backstage.

Oliver clapped and stood. "Fantastic. Brilliant."

"I loved it too," Schuyler agreed. "You know what might be great? Have your makeup artist draw masks on the girls," she suggested, recalling the after-party of the Four Hundred Ball, when Mimi had taken "masquerade" to a new level.

Chapter Nine

Mimi

here did he go? How could he disappear like that? He knew it was her, didn't he? Knew it was Mimi underneath the brown bob and the brown eyes that were part of her disguise? Underneath the illusion, underneath the glamour - he knew her intimately, he knew her soul, he had to have seen her - truly seen her, hadn't he? She would recognize him anywhere. In any guise, under any mask. Why couldn't he?

She followed Danel through the tunnels to the other end of the station, relieved that he seemed to have taken the kiss in stride. It probably wasn't the first time a girl had thrown herself on him for an impromptu make-out session. Maybe he was used to it. They took the escalator up to the next level. And that's when Mimi saw Kingsley on the escalator going down the other way. He was laughing and chatting with the same girls.

Mimi realized her jealousy was irrelevant. This was her chance to let Kingsley and the vampires know what Lucifer was up to. Maybe then he could help somehow.

When she stepped off the escalator, she turned to Danel. "I don't feel well - I need to go back down to the ladies'."

"Okay, I'll wait for you here."

She nodded and hurried down. She pushed her way through the crowd until she was standing right behind him on the platform.

Kingsley Martin.

She wavered. She could smell him - that blend of cigarettes and coffee and whiskey that she knew so well. She could reach over and touch his hair, his neck, slip her hand into his, and they could get away from all this. What did it matter? Let the Dark Prince take Paradise. She and Kingsley could make a heaven here on earth.

Who cared about the coming war? Who cared about the Covens and the survival of the vampires? Was she even a vampire anymore? She had expected the thirst to come back, once she was free of the underworld, but there was nothing. She hadn't had a bite in weeks.

They could forget all this. She could whisper in his ear and tell him to escape with her.

But he would hate her. He would hate her for giving up, for giving in, for being selfish. She was no longer that girl. She had grown up so much. She couldn't do it. Not to him, not to Oliver, and more important, not to herself.

Plus, what hope did any of the vampires have if she and Jack couldn't break the demons from the inside? The Coven was in ruins; Michael and Gabrielle had abandoned their people.

Even if she and Kingsley wanted to run away together, she knew that when it came down to it, they wouldn't do it. Kingsley was a Venator and Mimi was a realist. Duty was more important than love. She understood that in her bones.