Masquerade
Chapter Two

 
Mimi Force surveyed the industrious scene inside the Jefferson Room at the Duchesne School and sighed happily. It was late on a Monday afternoon, the school day was over, and the weekly Committee meeting was well underway. Diligent Blue Bloods were gathered in small groups at the round table, discussing last-minute details for the party of the year: the annual Four Hundred Ball. Blond, green-eyed Mimi and her twin brother, Jack, were among the young vampires who were going to be presented at the ball this year. It was a tradition that reached back centuries. Induction into The Committee, a secret and vastly powerful group of vampires that ran New York, had been only the first step. The public presentation of young Committee members to the entire Blue Blood society was a bigger one. It was an acknowledgment of one's past history and future responsibilities. Because Blue Bloods returned in different physical shells, under new names in every cycle-- what vampires called the length of a human lifetime--their presentation or "coming-out" was highly important in the recognition process.
Mimi Force didn't need a herald with a trumpet to tell her who she was, or whom she had been. She was Mimi Force the most beautiful girl in the history of New York City and the only daughter of Charles Force, the Regis, a.k.a. head of the coven and superior badass, known to the world as a merciless media magnate whose Force News Network spanned the globe from Singapore to Addis Ababa. Mimi Force the girl with hair the color of woven flax, skin like fresh buttercream, full pouty lips that rivaled Angelina Jolie's. She was the underage sexpot with a reputation for cutting a reckless swath through the city's most eligible young heirs: hot red-blooded boyfriends otherwise known as her human familiars.
But her heart had always been, and always would be, much, much closer to home, Mimi thought as she looked across the room at her brother, Jack.
So far, Mimi was satisfied. Everything was shaping up to be picture-perfect for the night at the St. Regis Hotel. This was the biggest party of the year. Unlike that tacky little circus they called the Oscars, with its sniveling actresses and corporate shilling, the Four Hundred Ball was a strictly old- fashioned affair--about class, status, beauty, power, money, and blood. Bloodlines, that is, and more specifically, Blue Bloodlines. It was a vampire-only ball: the most exclusive event in New York, if not the world.
Absolutely no Red Bloods allowed.
All the flowers had been ordered. White American Beauty roses. Twenty thousand of them, specially flown in from South America for the occasion. There would be ten thousand roses in the garland entrance alone, the rest scat- tered among the centerpieces. The most expensive event planner in the city, who had turned The Metropolitan Museum into a Russian wonderland straight out of Dr. Zhivago for the Costume Institute's Russian exhibit, was also planning to hand-make ten thousand silk roses for the napkin rings. And to top it all off, the entire ballroom would be scented by gallons of rosewater perfume pumped into the air vents.
Around Mimi, The Committee conferred on last- minute issues. While the junior members, high school kids like herself, were occupied with busywork filing RSVP cards, checking off guest lists, confirming logistics for the two fifty- piece orchestras' stage requirements and lighting the senior coven, led by Priscilla DuPont, a well-known Manhattan socialite whose regal visage graced the weekly social columns, was involved with more delicate matters. Mrs. DuPont was surrounded by a group of similarly thin, pol- ished, and well-coifed women, whose tireless work on behalf of The Committee had led to the preservation of some of New York's most important landmarks and funded the existence of the city's most prestigious cultural institutions. Mimi's extra-sensitive hearing picked up on the conversation.
"Now we come to the question of Sloane and Cushing Carondolet," Priscilla said gravely, picking up one of the ivory linen place cards scattered in front of her. The cards were embossed with the name of each guest, and would be placed at the front reception with a designated table number.
There was a murmur of disapproval among the well- heeled crowd. The Carondolets' growing insubordination was hard to ignore. After they had lost their daughter Aggie a few months ago, the family had shown signs of being distinctly anti-Committee. Rumor had it they were even threatening to call for an impeachment of Mimi's father.
"Sloane can't be with us today," Priscilla continued, "but she has sent in their yearly donation. It's not as big as it has been in the past, but it is still substantial--unlike some other families I won't mention."
Donations to the Four Hundred Ball benefited the New York Blood Bank Committee, The Committee's public name, which was organized ostensibly to raise money for blood research. The money it brought in was also used in part to fight AIDS and hemophilia.
Every family was expected to make a magnanimous donation to its coffers. The combined offerings fueled The Committee's multimillion-dollar budget for the entire year. Some, like the Forces, gave above and beyond the call of duty, while others, like the Van Alens, a pitiful branch of a once-powerful clan, had struggled for years to come up with the requisite amount for their tithe. Now that Cordelia was gone, Mimi wasn't even sure if Schuyler knew what was expected of her.
"The question is," Trinity Burden Force, Mimi's mother, said in her lilting voice, "is it appropriate for them to sit at the head table as they usually do, knowing what they have said about Charles?" Trinity posed the question in a way that let the rest of The Committee know that she and Charles would rather dine on ashes than dine with the Carondolets.
"I say shaft them at the back table with all the other fringe families!" BobiAnne Llewellyn declared with her forceful Texan bray. She made a joking slash across her neck, if only to display the thirty-carat diamond on her ring finger. BobiAnne Llewellyn was the second and much younger wife of Forsyth Llewellyn, who currently served as junior senator for New York.
Several ladies seated around Priscilla DuPont shuddered ever so slightly at the suggestion, even if they privately agreed with it. BobiAnne's crass way of putting it was distinctly not the Blue Blood way of doing things.
Mimi noticed her friend Bliss Llewellyn look up at the sound of her stepmother's grating voice. Bliss was one of The Committee's newest members, and her face had turned as red as her curls when she'd heard BobiAnne's guttural laugh boom across the room.
"Perhaps we can reach a compromise," Priscilla noted in her gracious manner. "We will explain to Sloane that they shall not sit at the head table this year, seeing as they are still in mourning and we respect their grief. We will place the Van Alen girl at their table as well. They cannot argue with that, seeing as they were great friends of Cordelia's, and, as her granddaughter, she too has suffered a loss."
Speaking of Schuyler--where was that little wretch? Not that it was Mimi's problem, but it annoyed her that Schuyler hadn't even bothered to show up for today's Committee meeting. She'd heard someone say that Schuyler and her human sidekick, Oliver, had gone to Venice, of all places. Venice? What the hell were they doing in Venice? Mimi wrinkled her nose. If one had to abscond to Italy, wasn't the shopping in Rome and Milan better? Venice was just wet and stinky, in Mimi's opinion. And how were they able to get permission from the school to do so?
Duschene did not look kindly upon self-scheduled school vacations even the Forces had been reprimanded when they had taken the twins out of school last February for a ski vacation. The school had already allocated an official "ski week" in March on the calendar that all families were sup- posed to follow. But tell that to the Forces, who maintained that the powder on Aspen Mountain in March was deeply inferior to February's snowfall.
Mimi threw a silk rose across the table at her brother, Jack, who was involved in a lively discussion with his subcommittee over security issues, blueprints of the St. Regis ballroom spread out in front of them.
The rose fell into his lap, and he looked up, startled. Mimi grinned.
Jack colored a bit, but returned her smile with a dazzling one of his own. The sun shone through the stained- glass windows, framing his handsome face with a golden glow.
Mimi thought she would never get tired of looking at him: it was almost as gratifying as looking at her own reflection. She was glad that after the truth of Schuyler's heritage--a half blood! Practically Abomination!--had been revealed, things between the two of them had gone back to normal. What passed for normal around the Force twins, anyway.
Hey handsome, Mimi sent.
What's up? Jack replied, without speaking.
Just thinking of you.
Jack's smile deepened, and he threw the rose back at his sister so that it landed in her lap. Mimi tucked it behind her ear and fluttered her eyelashes appreciatively.
She checked over the RSVP cards once again. Since the ball was a community affair, it would be a party dominated by the Elders and the Wardens--an older crowd. Mimi pressed her lips tightly together. Sure, it would be a fun party--the most glamorous event ever--but suddenly she had an idea.
What about an after-party?
For Blue Blood teens only? Where they could really let loose without worrying about what their parents, Wardens, and Committee leaders thought?
Something more edgy and adventurous...something only the cr?me de la cr?me could attend. A cold, glittering smile played on her lips as she imagined all her silly little peers at Duchesne begging for an invitation to the party. All in vain, Mimi thought. Because there would be no invitations. Only a text-message sent to the right people on the night of the Four Hundred Ball would reveal the location of the after- party. The Alterna-vampire Ball.
Mimi glanced over at Jack, who was holding a sheet of paper in front of his face, covering his handsome visage. And she suddenly remembered a scene from a past life of theirs: the two of them, bowing to the Court at Versailles, their faces concealed behind ornately beaded and feathered masks.
Of course!
A masquerade ball.
The after-party would require elaborate masks.
No one would be sure who was who, who had been invited and who had not--creating the most exquisite social anxiety.
She liked this idea very much. Any time she could exclude other people from having fun, Mimi was always ready.