Masquerade

Chapter Nineteen

 

His name was Kingsley Martin, and he was a junior.

The female populace at Duchesne agreed: even his name was sexy. The minute he appeared, it was as if a wild- fire had spread among the girls. Within a week, his accom- plishments were legendary. Already, he had been tapped to start on the school's lacrosse, soccer, and crew teams. Just as impressive, he was an academic sharpshooter. He had slain the crusty AP English teacher with his presentation on Dante's Inferno, titled "Taco Hell," where he had compared the circles of hell to common fast-food establishments. In AP Calculus, he had solved a complicated problem set in record time.

It didn't hurt that he was what the girls called a knee- trembler. He was devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that combined Hollywood glamour with dapper European sophistication and a trace of mischief. The new boy looked fun.

And just like that, Jack Force became old news. The girls had all gone to school with Jack Force since preschool. Kingsley presented a new, dashing, and mysterious alternative.

Mimi Force gave Bliss the rest of the scoop after lunch while they reapplied lip gloss in the girls' bathroom.

"He's a Blue Blood," Mimi said, making an 0 shape with her mouth as she slathered on the shine.

"No kidding," Bliss replied. Of course he was a vampire--she knew that the minute she laid eyes on him. She'd never met another vampire who flaunted his Blue Blood status so publicly. It was a surprise he hadn't bared his fangs in front of the whole school.

"I met him at the Four Hundred Ball," Mimi said. "His family just moved here from London, but he grew up everywhere: Hong Kong, New York, Capetown. They're like, related to royalty or something. He has some sort of title but he doesn't use it." "Should we curtsy?" Bliss joked.

Mimi frowned. "It's not a joke. They're like, major. Landed estates, advisers to the Queen, the whole shebang."

Bliss refrained from rolling her eyes. Sometimes Mimi was so stubborn about her snobbery, it squeezed all the fun out of life.

They exited the bathroom and bumped into the object of their discussion. Kingsley was walking out of the boys' locker room, carrying a thick, leather-bound book. He looked rakish and wickedly charming. His eyes danced when he saw them.

"Ladies," he said, bowing.

Mimi smirked. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things, I hope," he said, looking directly at Bliss.

"This is my friend Bliss. Her dad's a senator," Mimi said, elbowing Bliss roughly.

"I know," Kingsley said, his smile deepening. Bliss tried hard to keep her composure. When he looked at her that way, it felt as if she was standing there with no clothes on.

The second bell rang, which meant they had five minutes to get to their next class.

"Gotta go. Korgan's senile but he can be an asshole," Mimi said, heading for the stairs.

"Ah, just make him shut up," Kingsley said. "Don't you know how to do that yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Bliss asked.

Mimi laughed nervously. "He's talking about using the glom on teachers. You know, mind control. Kingsley, you joker, you know we're not supposed to do that. It's against the Code. If the Wardens ever found out..."

Blue Blood teens were expressly forbidden from using their powers or showing off their superhuman strengths until they had reached adulthood. And even then, the Code of the Vampires was very clear on that policy: humans were not to be toyed with. They were to be respected. The Blue Bloods were supposed to bring peace and beauty and light to the world, not use their superior powers to dominate and rule.

"Wardens Shmardens," Kingsley joked with a dismissive wave. "They never know what's going on. Or do you still believe they can read your mind?" he teased.

"You're funny. We'll talk later," Mimi said, heading out.

"I should go too," Bliss said nervously.

"Wait."

Bliss raised her eyebrows.

"You've been avoiding me," Kingsley said simply. It was not an accusation, but a statement of fact. He shifted the book he was carrying to his other hip. Bliss glanced at it quickly. It didn't look like a textbook. It looked similar to one of those old reference books from the Repository that Oliver had used in their research on the Croatan.

"What are you talking about? I just met you."

"Have you forgotten already?" Kingsley asked.

"Forgotten what?"

Kingsley sized Bliss up and down, from her new Chloe ballerina flats to her highlighted hair. "I liked the green gown. And the necklace, of course. A perfect touch. But I think I liked you better wet and soaking. Helpless."

"You were the boy at the park," Bliss gasped. The boy who had rescued her had been Kingsley, not Dylan. Kingsley? How? Which meant, she thought with an ache in her heart, that Dylan was truly dead?

"You made a very pretty Lady of the Lake," Kingsley said.

Bliss's mind raced. So that meant she had danced with Kingsley at the after-party as well. He was the boy in the Pierrot mask.

"What happened to Dylan?" Bliss whispered, a dread creeping into her heart. She had been so sure Dylan was alive. But if he hadn't been the one who had rescued her in the lake, or who had danced with her at the party...then she had to face it. She was holding on to a dream. He was gone forever, and he wasn't coming back.

"Who's Dylan?"

"It doesn't matter," Bliss said, as she tried to process this new reality and absorb the information. "What did you mean, then, the night of the party, when you said you hadn't been gone for long. Do we--do we know each other?" she asked.

Kingsley looked serious for once. "Ah. I am sorry. You lot are a bit delayed here, yes? You do not recognize me yet. I truly am sorry. I had thought you knew me when we were dancing. But I was mistaken."

"Who are you?" Bliss asked.

Kingsley put his mouth to Bliss's ear and whispered softly, "I am the same as you."

The final bell rang. Kingsley wagged his eyebrows and grinned. "I'll see you around, Bliss."

Bliss slumped against the wall, her knees shaking, her heart galloping in her chest. He had stood so close to her, she could still feel his breath on her cheek. Who was he really? What was he talking about? And would she ever discover what had truly happened to Dylan?

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