Homecoming Masquerade, The (8 page)

T
he first two hours of the
Homecoming Masquerade were unsupervised. That was part of the game. It was a
way the immortals could make the lowly humans show their subservience. Here
were a hundred high school seniors from the richest families in the world, who
were accustomed to doing whatever they wanted to do and living a life largely
without consequences, yet for two hours they came together and followed the
rules of a strict Victorian dance, all without any supervision.

Thorndike students were so well
trained, so terrified of what the immortals might do to them, that they behaved
like little puppets at their own school dance. In fifty-plus years, the
unsupervised portion of the ball had always been smooth. Nicky’s confrontation
with Kim was probably the least couth behavior in the history of Homecoming.

Unsupervised didn’t mean without
security. There was plenty of that. Just because the Thorndike students behaved
didn’t mean the rest of the world could be trusted. There were humans all over
the world who were poor, who were hungry, who were desperate, who might choose
to sabotage a gathering of power and privilege like Thorndike’s Homecoming.
There were rival clans from other parts of the world who were jealous of the
powerful American vampires and always on the lookout for a moment to strike.
Plus, there was the Network to worry about. All of this made Homecoming a major
security concern, and Renata spared no expense ensuring that her guests were safe.

The first line of defense was
Renata’s own army of slaves. Sure, they were young and weak, but they were
trained to fight to the death if necessary. Private contractors added another
layer of security, monitoring the forest immediately surrounding Renata’s
property and barricading all roads in a three-mile radius. Police, National
Guard, and Secret Service rounded out the security detail, each group assigned
specific tasks to protect the mansion and its occupants.

All of this security was
necessary whenever it was known that immortals would be gathering in one place,
and on this night, there were many immortals in attendance. Renata and her
invited immortal guests went on a ceremonial hunt outside the mansion during
the first part of Homecoming. During the third and final hour of Homecoming,
Renata and her guests would come inside to join the party. In their formal
dress and bejeweled masks, these immortals would step onto the dance floor with
everyone else, cutting in for a dance wherever they wished. Those lucky
students who got to dance with an immortal would remember the experience for
life.

Nicky was guaranteed at least
one dance with an immortal, as Sergio Alonzo himself came to the party to dance
with the girls wearing black. Initially, the Network considered a strategy
where somehow Nicky and Jill took a stab at killing Sergio right there in the
ballroom, foregoing all this convoluted business of winning Coronation. But
they thought better of it. As complicated and difficult as winning Coronation would
be, the odds of success were far greater with that plan than with any scheme to
try and kill Sergio in plain sight.

Killing a vampire was a risky,
messy business. While it was true that a heavy stake to the heart or a complete
decapitation would indeed take down the creatures, actually making that happen
was harder than it seemed. Vampires were too fast and cunning for a single
person to take them out with a sword. Every kill the Network had made was done
by two or more people, and a lot of weaponry. The key was getting a few good
shots in with some hefty hunting ammunition to slow them down. The most
successful vampire hunter in the Network, Elliott Toffler, had made all his
kills as part of a team of ten, where they first trapped the creature, then filled
it with lead, and only then, when it was too slow to get away, chopped its head
off.

There was some debate though if
an approach like that was even viable with Sergio. Vampires grew stronger as
they aged, and only Daciana Samarin herself was older than Sergio.

As Nicky changed partners for
the fourth time, she thought about Sergio. How many more dances until she was
in his arms? How many more minutes before she was face to face with the vampire
she was meant to kill?

It was nine-forty now. There was
time for two more dances before the intermission. Nicky had been aiming to
dance with Marshall Beaumont, but he had stepped away from her at the last
minute, and she ended up with Sam Featherstone.

Sam’s mother was a Hollywood
starlet and his father was a baseball player. Both of his parents had
magazine-cover faces, so it had to be a disappointment to them that their son
was such a plain-looking boy. Sam’s high cheekbones, boxy frame, and stringy
hair were an unusual mix. When combined with his brat-like, ultra-entitled
personality, it all made for an ugly kid.

“I’m hearing something about a
party at the Hamilton,” Sam said shortly after the dance began.

“That’s correct,” said Nicky.
“Are you coming?”

“Well, I had planned on going to
Kim’s, but...”

“Hardly anyone will be at
Kim’s,” said Nicky. “Jada Razor is performing at my party.”

“Really? How’d you get her?” His
tone of voice was dismissive and insulting. Nicky and Jill had a lot of work to
do.

Clearly, word was getting out
about the party, but no one really believed yet that Nicky’s party was the one
to attend. Nicky wondered how Jill was coming along with Annika Fleming,
thinking about how her own work on Ryan had come unglued. If things didn’t
start improving here soon, Nicky’s after-party would be a dud, and the entire
mission would be in jeopardy.

She worked on Sam for the
remainder of the dance, reminding him that he hated Kim just as much as
everyone else, telling him that this was a once in a lifetime chance to get it
right.

As she spoke with Sam, she
looked at the bar, where Ryan and Kim were talking, or rather, Kim was talking
and Ryan was listening.

What did Kim have on Ryan? The
Network had combed every aspect of his life and found nothing. He was clean.
His parents were clean. His grandparents were clean. All the Jenson wealth
could be accounted for in legal transactions. No one in the family had trouble
with the law or relationships with shady characters of any sort.

They had to find a way to free
Ryan from Kim’s grasp or the entire plan was ruined. In a city full of rats,
Ryan was meant to be the Pied Piper. He was to come on board as Nicky’s first
major donor, and after he’d pledged his mega millions, others would follow.
Without him, Nicky might as well run out the door right now and never come
back.

Nicky tried to get a read on
what Kim was saying, but between the constant turns of the waltz and the
position of Kim’s wine glass, Nicky couldn’t see her lips. She looked at the
other people at the bar, watching to see if someone might be eavesdropping on
Kim and Ryan’s conversation, someone who could be probed for info about what
Kim was saying, but it didn’t look like anyone was listening. Zoe was telling
some drunken story to Xavier, waving her arms all over the place. Chelsea,
Isabella, Annika, and Jenny were gathered in a circle, giggling about
something. Rosalyn was walking away from the bar, a very full goblet of wine in
her hand.

It occurred to Nicky that
Rosalyn was walking in a straight line without the slightest lilt in her gait,
which was odd, since Rosalyn had a reputation of being the class drunk. Rosalyn
was one of Kim’s most devoted lackeys. If she was choosing to drink
responsibly, surely it was at Kim’s behest.

She’d have to file that little
oddity away for later. There were more important things than Rosalyn’s blood
alcohol, and right now, the top of the list was getting a dance in with
Marshall Beaumont.

Hearing the waltz move into its
Trio section, Nicky pushed Sam in Marshall’s direction, determined not to let
him get away this time. When the musicians hit the final bars, she was in
perfect position for Marshall to turn her way and ask for the next dance.

But right as the piece ended,
another couple crashed into them from behind, knocking Sam sideways, and
pushing Nicky away from Marshall.

“Sorry Bud,” said the boy who
had collided with Sam.

“No problem,” Sam mumbled. He
bowed to Nicky and turned to the girl who had just run into him. Nicky now had
no choice but to dance with the boy from this clumsy couple. The boy was short,
with sandy brown hair combed into a severe part over his left ear. He was beefy
under his tux, clearly someone who worked out a lot. And he was smiling big,
his eyes glassy, his cheeks flush. He was drunk as a skunk.

“What’s up, Nicky?” he said,
holding his hand out for a dance.

“Hello Art.”

A
rt Tremblay was having a hell
of a night.

It began at home while he was
getting ready and his mother told him she had agreed to a settlement in the
divorce.

The divorce, a long, contentious
battle between Art’s parents that had gone on for nearly a decade, had Art
splitting time between mansions in Bethesda and Potomac. More importantly, it
prevented the family business from bringing on anyone else as a full partner.

Now that Art’s mom had agreed to
a buyout, her share of the business would be held in trust for the children.
Upon his eighteenth birthday, which was only a week away, Art would inherit a
one quarter share of Tremblay Property Management LLC.

That share was worth four
billion dollars.

Yes sir, four billion.
B-b-b-billion, the youngest billionaire in the world. And that wasn’t all that
was going Art’s way this night. Shortly before the dancing started, Kim
approached Art with a “special assignment.” She could have chosen anyone in the
ballroom to do it, but she chose him.

This new girl needs to be
snuffed out tonight
, Kim had said.
You and Rosalyn are going to work
together. On the last dance before intermission, you will be Nicky’s partner.
As you come around the far side of the ballroom, Rosalyn will step into the
aisle with a glass of wine in her hand. You are going to push Nicky into
Rosalyn. Make it look like she tripped. Rosalyn will make sure the wine spills
all over Nicky’s dress. Wait until the music is almost done before you act. The
immortals come out after intermission. We want to give Nicky as little time as
possible to clean up before they arrive.

It was a bold, frightening idea,
pushing the new girl right into a wine spill, but Art was ready. What good were
all those hours in the gym if he wasn’t? This was it. This was the moment when
fortunes were made.

This was his own Bullhead Creek.

Bullhead Creek was a small
village in the Adirondacks where, in 1935, a stroke of luck and a bold decision
forever changed the fate of the entire Tremblay family. Art’s grandfather,
Reginald Tremblay, was hunting deer in the forests on the northern edge of
town. He’d been tracking a buck all day when he heard a moaning sound off to
the east. Expecting to find a fox or other small prey caught in someone’s trap
(and planning to steal whatever he found – the Depression hadn’t been kind to
the Tremblay family), Reginald abandoned the buck he was tracking and followed
the moaning sound.

He was half-way down the
mountain when he realized the sound wasn’t coming from anyone’s trap, but
instead from inside a rickety waterwheel shack on the far side of the river.
Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Reginald crossed the river and
pushed open the back door of the shack.

What he found inside was a
little girl, no more than five, with bright orange hair, tied to a support
beam. A dirty rag was stuffed in her mouth. Her forehead was covered in blood.
It took Reginald a long time to untie all the knots that attached the girl to
the beam, and before he was finished, the door swung open again, and a man
stepped inside. He was naked, save a thick layer of mud that covered his entire
body, almost like he had gone out into the forest and rolled in the muck.

The man, who, according to the
way the story was told in the Tremblay family, “had a look of plumb crazy in
his eyes,” turned to run. Reginald shot him in the back, and then again in the
head after the man fell to his knees. Then Reginald took the girl to his truck,
drove her down the mountain, and went to the police.

The girl was a young Renata
Sullivan, daughter of one of the wealthiest families in New York, gone missing
the night before from the Mohawk Summer Camp twelve miles down the river.
Thirteen years later, Renata became the first girl from Thorndike Academy to
get a visit in the night from Sergio Alonzo. Becoming an immortal member of the
Samarin Clan, Renata was instantly made into a millionaire many times over, and
one of the first things she did with her money was find Reginald Tremblay and
set him up for life.

“When I look at Reginald, I see
safety,” Renata said in a newspaper interview many years later. “I see the man
who killed the bad guy and made everything right. I don’t just want to reward
Reginald, I want to keep him close so I can always feel safe.”

Renata invited Reginald and his
young family to move to the suburbs outside DC and oversee the security detail
on the mansion she was having built. It was Reginald’s job to do background
checks on every contractor who had access to the blueprints, every plumber,
mason, and electrician who stepped into the home, every artist and craftsman
who made the gorgeous house come together. When the mansion was finished,
Reginald’s approved list of contractors became the full time staff of Tremblay
Property Management (TPM), and he became the go-to guy not just for Renata, but
for all the immortals living in and around Washington. Fabulous mansions like
Renata’s required upkeep, maintenance, and security, some of which could be
provided by the slaves, but some of which had to be outsourced. As devoted as
the slaves were to their masters, their young, brainwashed minds weren’t
capable of high level problem solving. Slaves were good for making dinner,
keeping house, and tending to the landscape. Anything beyond that required
someone with at least a modicum of free thought. Someone who could be trusted
near the million-dollar paintings, the ancient relics, the centuries of secrets
that might be hidden in an immortal’s mansion. Over time, TPM developed a
background check that was more rigorous than those given by the military or the
CIA. TPM contractors were expected to submit to regular “debriefings” in which
an immortal would interrogate them to ensure all was on the up and up. TPM
headquarters in Washington became an impenetrable fortress.

When Art’s dad took over the
business in the late sixties, it was a multi-million dollar enterprise. Art’s
father expanded the business even further, turning it into a full-service
contracting firm that did anything and everything the immortals wanted. From
private security to financial matters to accounting to home maintenance and
upkeep – TPM’s trusted staff provided it all and was handsomely rewarded for
the effort. By the time Art was born, the Tremblays were one of the wealthiest
and most respected families in all of Washington.

And while Art now stood to
inherit a good chunk of the wealth thanks to his parents’ divorce settlement,
the respect still eluded him. The respect stopped with Art’s father and
brother, who hoarded it all, leaving none for Art. It didn’t help that Art was
a shrimp, and the first Tremblay in memory who wasn’t a natural outdoorsman.
Art’s father made no attempts to hide his disappointment in his youngest son.
Art got used to being bullied, not only by his classmates, but by his father.
He internalized his father’s commands to “toughen up,” and “quit being such a
girl.” No longer invited on the family hunting and fishing trips, Art took to
the gym, where he thrust his anger into every bench press, and imagined his
father’s face on the punching bag. The gym never made him any taller, or any
tougher really, but by his senior year, it had made him buff.

Buff enough that Kim knew he was
up to the task. Having pushed his way past Marshall Beaumont (and oh, wasn’t it
nice to body check that asshole), Art now stood before Nicky Bloom, ready to be
her dance partner.

He bowed, they greeted one
another, their hands joined, and they were off. Their dance was Chopin’s Waltz
in C-Sharp Minor. A few bars in, Art caught sight of Rosalyn, making her way
into position, a goblet of wine in her hand.

Yes, indeed, things were looking
up for Art Tremblay. It was a hell of a night.