by L. J. Smith
“The Ripper made the papers again,” I said dryly, smoothing the broadsheet and passing it to Damon.
He perched on the end of the low-slung cherrywood chair in the corner. Soon, a smile spread across his face as he shoved the paper aside.
“Well, looks like I’ll be able to reintroduce myself to society. It’ll be nice to be a free man after being a wanted man for so long. I’m ready to resume my life of luxury.”
I stared at my brother. Could he possibly be serious? “What about Samuel?” I asked.
“What about Samuel?” Damon echoed, perfectly mocking my inflection. “You know, brother, I was thinking last night that maybe you’ve been right all along. Maybe we do leave the country with our tails between our legs. We had a plan. We had Power. We had witches. And we had numbers on our side. And yet, Samuel and his Asylum goon overtook us.”
“You could have warned us he was bringing reinforcements.”
“I didn’t know. Seaver must have been tailing us. And why did it matter? You were supposed to kill him if he came. I saw you when I was fighting with Samuel. You were right behind him. You could have stabbed him in the back, then tried to help me. Ever think of that, brother?”
“Shut up!” Cora yelled as she shot to her feet and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t listen to you two bicker! If this continues, I’ll leave,” she said, her eyes flashing.
Damon and I reflexively looked at Cora, then at each other. If Cora left, we’d be alone together. And that wouldn’t work. Cora was like a mediator: We needed her to work effectively. If she wasn’t there, either we’d argue our way to inaction, or our alliance would self-destruct.
“Don’t leave,” I said to Cora. “But I think we can all agree we need a new perspective on the situation. We all want to kill Samuel. But we don’t know how to do that. I think we should talk to James and see what he thinks. We can’t do this alone.”
“And what if James decides he’s done with vampires and stakes you? I’ve known him a long time. He’s fickle,” Damon countered.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” I said quietly.
“Are you?” Damon asked. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. You don’t act, and that’s dangerous. And until you stop torturing yourself with your conscience, we can’t work together.”
“I don’t think you can blame me for thinking too much based on what happened last night. And that’s why I need to see James. To find out how strong Samuel really is. Maybe James will know of a weakness in his new powers.”
“Whatever you say. I’m too hungry to fight. Go do your detective work. I’ll be breakfasting at Bailey’s Hotel. I can’t possibly think until I’ve had a good meal.”
I blanched, knowing that Damon’s idea of a good meal meant an attractive woman. “Fine.”
It was the same old story: When Damon was near death, he was my brother, the man I’d do anything for—including risking my own life. But when he was well, his barrage of caustic comments chipped away at my goodwill.
As soon as he left, Cora turned to face me. A small smile played on her lips.
“What?” I asked, ready for another round of insults.
“Nothing really.” She shook her head. “It’s just that together, you and Damon complete each other. You think, and he’s all about action. But instead of appreciating what the other has, you fight about it.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk about our brotherly relationship. I wanted to figure out if there was any way to stop Samuel. But I was worried it was impossible. Not without a force greater than ourselves.
“Let’s see James,” I said gruffly.
Cora nodded, and together we walked out of the house and made our way to James’s Emporium. The sun was shining brightly, and the cold snap had receded. In fact, men were walking the streets with their jackets over their arms, and people were sunning themselves on the steps of Trafalgar Square. Still, everywhere we walked, we heard snatches of conversation:
“Killed in her bed…”
“Heart torn out as if she were attacked by an animal…”
“I’m telling you, no one is safe.”
“What’s America like?” Cora asked quietly as we zigzagged our way through the crowded sidewalks of Fleet Street.
“Big,” I said, knowing that Cora was mostly asking to distract me from the chatter around us. “You’d like it.” I thought of Cora, stepping off a steamer boat and into a world where she wouldn’t be assaulted by memories of Violet on a daily basis. I thought of the Irish neighborhoods that had sprung up in Boston and New York and San Francisco. She’d definitely find a home.
Maybe Cora should go to America. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to worry about her being next on the list of my accidental victims. “Do you want to go?” I asked gently.
She sighed. “I don’t know. If I left, I’d never see my family again. They don’t even know Violet’s dead. I’ve been trying to decide if I should tell them or let them think that she just got…too busy to write.”
“Would they believe that?” I asked skeptically.
Cora smiled wanly. “They would. They always said that London would change us. They’d think that if we were happy, then they’d done their job. I think they’d rather imagine Violet had become a snob, not wanting to introduce her parents to her posh new friends, than find out she was dead. They’d never believe she’d been turned into a vampire and killed by her own sister. I don’t even believe that,” Cora said sadly.
“They only wanted you to be happy?” I asked in disbelief, thinking back to my own father. At this point, he’d been dead for longer than Cora had been alive, and yet no matter how far I was from his grave or how many years passed, I couldn’t escape his voice. Salvatore men fight, even if it’s to the death. After all, that’s what he’d done. He’d shot me, his own son.
“Yes,” Cora sighed. “They wouldn’t be able to live if they knew what happened to Violet. They would blame themselves for letting her go. And then if they knew I wasn’t there to take care of her…that I was the one who killed her…” Cora’s voice shook.
I gently rested my hand on her arm. “Look at me,” I said, stopping in the street as pedestrians streamed around us. I gazed into her deep blue eyes. “You haven’t done anything wrong. And what happened to that whole speech about not blaming yourself? If none of the events are my fault, then they’re definitely not yours. Is that a deal?”
The corners of Cora’s lips twisted, but she didn’t smile. “I know. It’s just hard.”
I nodded. There were no words of wisdom I could give her, nor were there any to console her. We’re in it together? At least you have me? I was sure being reminded she was bound to a vampire would offer little comfort.
Soon, we reached the Emporium. I rang the doorbell and stepped back. For the first time, I noticed that the door was decorated with a chain of blue flowers. It was clearly a charm, but against what?
James opened the door and looked up at us from his height of only three feet.
“Hello,” I said, glancing down and noticing that a few red boils had popped, blooming like roses on his pockmarked skin. As always, his one eye was red and watery, while the place where his other eye should have been was a cavernous, empty socket.
“You’re still alive, vampire. And you’ve managed to get your girl back. Impressive,” James said as he hustled us into the shop. “So sit down. Have some tea. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” Without looking at me, James began fussing at the tiny stove in the corner of the room. I glanced around the shelves crammed full of jars of blinking eyeballs, beating hearts, and two-headed mice. There had to be something to protect us from Samuel.
“We need to talk to you about last night,” Cora said smoothly, causing James to turn from the stove, a tin mug in each of his hands.
“Earl Grey for you both. What do you mean, ‘last night’?” he asked, squinting his one eye at Cora. He shuffled toward us, upsetting a fat
cat that was lazing in his path. The cat hissed and darted under the table, where it lazily flicked its tail back and forth against my ankle.
“Samuel attacked again. And this time, he did more than kill,” Cora said.
At this, James slammed the two metal mugs down on the table so forcefully that the wooden table leg began to buckle.
“Damn it!” James said. He grabbed a jar full of dead turtles from a nearby shelf, pulled one out, and placed it under the uneven leg to keep it steady. “Quit speaking in riddles, girl! Do I look like that fool Ephraim? Now, tell the whole story, and start from the beginning.”
“Yes sir!” Cora gulped. “Stefan and Damon met a girl, Mary Jane, who turned out to be a purebred witch. And they realized that Samuel wanted her heart. So…”
“We allied ourselves with a coven using the vinculum spell. After that was in place, they used praesidium on Mary Jane,” I cut in. “We thought that we’d use her to lure Samuel, then trap him and kill him. But he brought along a witch who had a potion that reversed the spell. He out-smarted us,” I explained.
“And he ate the heart?” James asked, his face, even the reddish boils, draining of color. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Yes,” Cora and I said in unison.
James sighed and sat down heavily. “This is bad,” he said. “This is very, very bad.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why we came to you. We need help.”
“Of course you need help! But the problem is, I can’t give it to you. Your whole story is the perfect example of why vampires are bad for my business and bad for society. They always think they can control the world. They think no one else matters but them. But they don’t understand what they’re doing in the process!” he fumed, standing and overturning his chair in his fury. He pulled down the shades and bolted the door before crossing to the bookcase and hauling books off the shelf. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a thin, threadbare red volume. He frantically turned the pages with his chubby hands as Cora and I glanced at each other. I was afraid to even breathe.
“Listen to this story, vampire,” James muttered. “Then you’ll know what you’re dealing with.” The cat hissed, and I felt all the eyeballs in the jar on the shelf staring at me in silent judgment.
James gulped Cora’s untouched tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he flipped one more page. He glanced at it and nodded, as if the words proved some unspoken point. “There’s a town in the middle of Prussia called Tulpedorf,” James said, tripping over the foreign pronunciation. “Or rather, there was a town. It doesn’t exist anymore,” James said evenly, the color beginning to return to his face.
“What happened?” Cora asked, leaning forward.
“A vampire moved in,” James explained. “Kind of like your Samuel—a man with a terrible mission. Elijah was his name. No one knew where he came from, or who he was. He was a stranger, but remarkably charismatic. People liked him, and there was even some whispering that he should rule the town. The more people who whispered that, the more people who started to believe it. After all, strange things were happening around town. Animal attacks, mysterious deaths. Maybe Elijah would save them. Little did they know, he was a vampire. One day, he did take over the town. He rounded up an army of the villagers he’d been turning into vampires ever since he arrived and compelled them to do his bidding. They stormed the castle of the local lord. Then, of course, his army began killing innocent citizens. For two days, there was mass carnage. But just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Elijah called off his vampire army. He compelled them to head to the woods and find as many branches as they could. Once there was an enormous pile of kindling, Elijah lit a match and ordered the army to step into the flames. They did, without a second glance. At this point, everyone in the town who hadn’t been killed just watched in horror. Some screamed for them to stop. But no one did. Elijah did it just because he could, you see? He played with people, like a puppeteer, and didn’t care about the consequences. And that was a tiny town. One can only imagine what a man with ambition and numbers would do in a city like London.”
“Where did Elijah go?” I asked.
“No one knows.” James shrugged. “But that’s neither here nor there. I’m telling you this story so you know exactly what your Samuel is now capable of. But something tells me he won’t be content with a few dozen murders.”
“So what do we do?” Cora asked. “Is there some sort of antidote? I know vervain stops humans from falling under compulsion. If we could just find another herb that would protect vampires, then we could fill the water supply or…” she trailed off.
“There is no herb,” James said. “Vervain won’t work against his power. It may protect humans against any of the vampires Samuel will compel, but how long do you think that will last? Any job that can’t be carried out by one of his minions, I’m sure Samuel will simply perform himself. I can’t help you. And I can’t have either of you coming to my shop anymore. It’s too dangerous. I’m leaving here myself.”
“I understand,” I said heavily, glancing futilely at the shelves.
“Come on, vampire,” he said, unbolting the door. Cora and I stood on the threshold as James hurriedly began plucking jars and boxes off the shelves and placing them on the table. He opened a small bottle filled with green liquid and gulped it town, then turned around when he realized I was still staring at him.
“Go!” James yelled. Cora and I fled. At the far end of the alley, I turned around. James was standing outside the store, throwing stems of vervain over the welcome mat. Even the store catering to monsters wouldn’t have me anymore.
12
I felt like I was the bumbling villain in a burlesque show. Despite being foiled time and time again, I insisted on trying a new scheme. Only in a burlesque show, there was an audience. And I couldn’t help but wonder: Was Samuel watching? I hoped he was, if nothing else than as a distraction from building his vampire army.
When Father had planned a siege against the vampires in our town, he’d done it methodically, making sure everyone knew what their roles were: Jonathan Gilbert was supposed to find vampires with his compass, Honoraria Falls was supposed to distribute vervain to everyone, and Sheriff Forbes was to supply the brute manpower, muzzles, and chains to hold the vampires until their destruction. How much simpler would a siege be if the commander could compel everyone—even his enemies—to do his bidding with a simple thought?
We were out of options, but as foolish as it might have been, I couldn’t stop trying to save the city. I was the only one who could.
As I desperately racked my brain for another idea, I couldn’t help but feel like the curtains were about to fall on the show. The only question was: How would it end?
In the short time we had been in James’s shop, the weather had changed completely. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, the air was cold and sharp, and the ground was coated in a fine layer of white powder. Cora, chilled to the bone, headed back to Bedford Square, while I continued to walk. The flurries had the effect of making London look like an etching on a holiday card. The air was redolent with the scent of roasted chestnuts, and rosy-cheeked people were marveling at the accumulation of snow along the curb. Men stopped on the streets to jovially slap one another on the backs in greeting. All around me London seemed at its finest, while all I felt was grief and despair.
Everyone had turned on us. Including the witches. But I knew, deep down, that Lady Alice would want to avenge Mary Jane’s death as much as I did. The image of the terrible gold-tinged blood frothing at Samuel’s mouth sprung to my mind. I wouldn’t let Mary Jane’s death fuel evil. And if Lady Alice loved her as much as she said, she wouldn’t either. Making up my mind, I headed to Lady Alice’s house. Was it a suicide mission? Maybe. I knew she hated me. But she was also our only hope.
By the time I reached the mansion, my boots were soaked and my fingers felt raw from the cold. I tentatively pushed the iron gate, surprised when it swung op
en without force. She must not have sensed my presence, because walking down the path was Lady Alice herself, wearing a shapeless white robe that looked like a burial shroud.
“Stefan,” she said briefly. I could tell that behind her back she gripped a stake. She was ready for anything.
Silence hung in the air as we appraised each other. I knew she might attack at any second, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I wondered if she could hear it.
I imagined the stake coming toward my chest. I’d dodge, before trying to knock the stake out of her hand. I’d want to reason with her. But unbidden, another more terrifying image sprang to my mind. The wooden point would graze my chest and my fangs would appear. In an instant, I’d sink my teeth into Lady Alice’s neck and tear her throat out, stopping only when her body was drained. I mashed my lips together and avoided her gaze. When I was provoked, I was no longer Stefan. I was a monster.
“I’m not here to fight,” I said, profoundly hoping it was the truth. “I just want to talk. I’ll agree to whatever terms make you feel comfortable.”
Lady Alice hesitated, and I could see that she was weighing her options.
“All right.” Lady Alice nodded. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Come with me.” She gestured for me to follow her down the winding walkway and to a gravel pathway behind the house. In its center was a single rosebush, bursting with red blossoms despite the weather. I followed her, matching her slow, careful steps.
“As good as gold,” she murmured as she neared the center. Once there, she turned to face me. The setting sun illuminated her face. “It’s funny—people say that all the time without really knowing what it means. But in Mary Jane’s case, I saw it with my own eyes. She truly was as good as gold. And now, that good has been turned evil. You broke vinculum, and I do blame you for what has happened. But I won’t kill you. Still, here’s what you need to know, Stefan,” Lady Alice said in a low voice, her eyes blazing. “I know you’ll ask me to help you, and I know you’ll say that you’re not asking for yourself. I know you’ll say that you’re asking for the greater good, and that London is in grave danger.”