The Compelled

by L. J. Smith

  “Yes,” I began, nodding. “But…”

  “I know you’re going to say that you’re doing this for Mary Jane. That if we don’t do something, her life was in vain.”

  “Y-y-yes,” I said hesitantly.

  “But I can’t help you,” she said finally. “I’m not like you. I can’t just drink blood and be good as new. I need time to grieve. And I can’t work with people I don’t trust. Because you betrayed me, Stefan. You may not have meant to, but you gave me your word, and your word was false. Words have power. And when that power is undermined…” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s like when one of your kind gets staked. Not in the heart, so it doesn’t kill you. But it drains your Power.”

  “I understand,” I said. “But this isn’t just about us. Now that Samuel has the power to compel vampires, he can control the whole city. Innocent lives will be lost. I won’t ask you to fight, but can’t you help us? Could you make more eleuthro?”

  She sighed heavily. “No, Stefan. I can’t make eleuthro.” She reached toward the rose bush, touching one of the flowers. The petals fell to the earth like drops of blood on the thin white layer of snow. “Witches only have as much power as their coven. And right now, we’re all in mourning, all unsure how we’ll handle this…situation. We will band together again if we find one of our own in danger, but we will not help the likes of you. That much is certain. And until I have the support of my coven, I don’t have any power at all.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Sorry doesn’t bring back Mary Jane. Now go. You’ve said enough. I can’t bear to hear any more.”

  I nodded mutely and turned my back, shuffling down the hill.

  “Hello, brother,” Damon said, startling me by bursting into my bedroom. He was wearing a suit with a black silk ascot tied around his neck. He dropped a similarly expensive-looking suit on the foot of my bed. It was later that evening, and I’d spent the last hour frowning into my notebook, desperately trying to come up with a plan. But I couldn’t. I could barely even write. Words have power, Lady Alice had said. Well, the blank page in front of me certainly didn’t. I was out of ideas.

  But while I was miserable, Damon seemed positively overjoyed. He held a crystal glass in his hands. “Would you like a drink?”

  I shook my head. “I have nothing to celebrate.”

  “Who said you need a reason to celebrate?” He pushed the glass closer to me.

  “You want to celebrate while Samuel’s probably rounding up a vampire army?” I concentrated on the dimly glowing lapis lazuli stone set in the ring on my finger so I could avoid his gaze. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Why? Because a witch yelled at you?” Damon asked pointedly. He sat in a chair in the corner and swirled his glass. “Cora told me you saw Lady Alice, and it didn’t go well. What did you expect? A hero’s welcome and a six-course dinner? We tried to use magic, and it didn’t work. So now we go to Plan D,” he said, downing his glass and holding it out to me in a mock toast.

  “Plan drunk?” I asked wryly.

  “That’s a good one!” he said enthusiastically. “But no. Plan Damon.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked, turning to face him. “Is that ‘Kill all of London before Samuel does it first’? Is it ‘Compel your way into millions before running away’? Or is it ‘Go over to his side, because you always want to be the one to win’?”

  “None of the above.” Damon shrugged. “But I will say it’s far better than moping, which is Plan Stefan.”

  I glanced back at my notebook so he wouldn’t see the redness rise to my cheeks. Was that true? And why did I care? Damon liked to deliberately provoke, and no matter what, I walked into his trap.

  Just then I heard a light knock on the door.

  “Come in!” I called, grateful for the interruption.

  Cora entered the room, the train of a red silk dress trailing on the floor behind her.

  “Stefan, are you feeling better?” she said.

  “I’m fine, I just had a headache. I still do,” I said.

  “Well, I would too if I spent all my time moping,” Damon said. “Come on! I still haven’t told you my plan. My name has been cleared, we’re not dressed like paupers, and I think the only thing we can do is go out tonight. There are dozens of balls in honor of the Lord Mayor’s Parade. Why, there’s even one at White’s that Lord Ainsley is giving. Heard about it this morning at breakfast.”

  “That isn’t a plan, it’s a party. You can go if you want, but I’m going to stay here and think.”

  “It’s a party with people who know Samuel. We go, we gather information, and then we plan. Who knows? Maybe we can even prevent some attacks. It’s worth a try.”

  Cora nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. After all, if we’re there, maybe we can find out if Samuel’s already starting to turn people into vampires. And maybe we will find information about what he’s doing with them.”

  I glanced from Cora to Damon. Both were staring at me, willing me to say yes. What did I have to lose? The childish part of me wanted to stay in, but I realized they were right. At this point, the only thing we could do was gather as much information as possible.

  “All right. I’ll be down in a moment,” I said.

  Ten minutes later, courtesy of a compelled coach driver, we were in front of what looked like an average residence in central London. It was a townhouse, with a lit gas lamp out front. The only sign that it was a nightclub was the stream of people constantly entering and exiting. To the left of the entrance, a man in a top hat sat on a high stool, scrutinizing a list of names.

  “Welcome to White’s!” Damon said grandly, as if it were his own private establishment. I rolled my eyes as I helped Cora out of the carriage.

  Upon hearing Damon’s voice, the man by the door looked up.

  “Count de Sangue. Welcome back!” He bowed with a flourish and ushered us inside. We walked down a carpeted staircase and into the party.

  “Just like old times.” Damon sighed happily, rubbing his hands together. The air was filled with the sound of instruments tuning up, ice cubes clinking in high-ball glasses, and chattering conversations punctuated by laughter. The crush of the crowd created an intoxicating aroma, and every thought in my brain was superseded by the sound of hundreds of heartbeats th-thumping under the din.

  “Why, hello there!” A girl’s voice yanked me from my reverie. I whirled around to see a tall woman with dainty features and butterscotch-colored hair. I sniffed, taking in the burnt-coffee smell of her blood. Her slow, sleepy smile and slight waver indicated it would almost certainly be tinged with rum, and I could imagine my fangs gently sliding against her skin until…

  “Charlotte!” Damon said, licking his upper lip. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

  Charlotte. I stepped back as though I’d been slapped. I’d been so entranced by the scent of her blood that I’d forgotten I knew her. She was the actress Damon had taken up with before the Jack the Ripper accusations. I hastily took a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray, downing it fast. Hopefully the alcohol would numb my craving for blood.

  “Well, I can’t say the same of you, you brute,” Charlotte said. She pouted, but I could tell from the way her eyes danced that she was only putting on a display of anger. “Not only did you disappear, but you became a wanted criminal in the blink of an eye. Of course, I knew it wasn’t true. You only travel in the best circles, so you’d never go to that awful East End, even if you were a murderer.” She laughed. Her fingers grazed her neck. It was an unconscious gesture, but seeing it caused my pulse to pound.

  “It really is rather funny, when you think about it. Me, in the East End, with prostitutes, when I could be here, with you on my arm.” Damon flashed her one of his charming half-smiles.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Charlotte laughed again, but her eyes seemed hollow. Something about her was amiss, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I hadn’t known her well, but on the few
occasions our paths had crossed, she’d always seemed flirtatious. Now, her statements were half a second too slow, as if she were struggling to remember her lines. She ran her finger along Damon’s collarbone. “Well, you’ll have to tell us all about life on the lam. How delightfully slum-worthy it must have been.”

  “Oh, believe me, it was,” Damon said. “But more important, tell me about you. What have I missed?”

  This was Damon’s plan for the evening? To flirt his way back into society?

  But Charlotte smiled, oblivious to me and my frustration as she turned all her womanly charms on Damon. “Well, I just opened a new play. It’s called The Temptress, and you can only imagine what my part is,” she said suggestively, arching a blond eyebrow.

  “Perfect casting,” Damon said, smoothly taking Charlotte’s hand in his. But before he could kiss it, Charlotte snatched it away.

  “You’ll have to get me a drink first,” she demanded. “You have a lot of apologizing to do for disappearing on me like that.”

  “I’m at your service,” Damon said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  I turned away, disgusted, even though I shouldn’t have been surprised. Damon’s reaction to death and destruction was always to dance through the ashes. Instead of dwelling on it, I took in my surroundings. In the center of the room, the band struck up one of the current music hall favorites.

  I stopped when I saw the curving staircase that led up to the hotel. Ordinarily, white-gloved butlers would be guarding the stairs to ensure partygoers without hotel keys didn’t slip past. Tonight, however, there were none. In fact, despite the bustling atmosphere, the evening seemed odd. Dancers were half a step behind the music, conversations sounded stilted, and hardly anyone had touched the sumptuous buffet table, laden with éclairs, oysters from the Atlantic, and cheeses and meats from France. But although there wasn’t anything on the buffet table that I wanted, it was strange that the other partygoers felt the same. Could they all be thirsting for blood?

  I heard a sound coming from the upper landing. It could have merely been a butler moving a piece of furniture, or two lovers who’d found a quieter spot to entertain each other. But I decided to investigate. After all, if my suspicions were correct, someone might be in trouble.

  I stole quietly up the staircase. When I reached the landing, it was just what I’d feared. One of the well-dressed men from downstairs was holding a servant girl in an embrace. But the servant girl wasn’t reciprocating. Instead, she’d fallen over his arms in a faint, and he was sucking blood from her neck.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I raced toward them. I didn’t have vervain or a stake. But I had Power. I hoped that would be enough.

  The vampire turned toward me, his eyes blazing in surprise as he dropped the girl to the ground. I could tell he was a brand-new vampire. His feeding had been manic and forceful, his chin at an awkward angle to her throat.

  I bared my fangs and emitted a low, guttural growl that sent the vampire beating a hasty retreat. As he vanished down the staircase, the servant girl sat up, rubbing her head.

  “What happened?” she asked in confusion, unaware of the two small wounds still dripping blood down her neck.

  “You passed out. You must have been exhausted.” I compelled her to believe it. “You should head home.”

  I felt the lining of my pocket, surprised when my fingertips grazed several heavy coins. The owner of this pair of pants was obviously wealthy. I pulled them out.

  “Here,” I said, dropping the change into the girl’s hand. “This should pay you for tonight.”

  The girl smiled a slow, sleepy smile. “Thank you, sir. I feel like you’re my guardian angel.”

  “Trust me, I’m not,” I said roughly.

  I escorted the girl down the stairs, making sure she safely left the building. Then, I turned to survey the scene. I had to find the vampire before he did more damage.

  My heart dropped. How had I not noticed before? Because even though Samuel wasn’t here, he was everywhere: stamped on the blank faces of the men eschewing the buffet table, in the hollow gestures of women adjusting their neck scarves, and in the somber, funereal atmosphere. It wasn’t as if the partygoers were doing anything unusual or out of place. Rather, their movements were studied and deliberate, as if they were performing on a stage. Mostly, it was their vacant stares that made it obvious.

  They were all vampires. And they were all compelled.

  I saw Cora weave her way through the crowd toward me. At least she was safe. “Stefan, where were you?” Cora asked, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking for you. Lord Ainsley’s right over there.”

  Ahead of us was a ginger-haired man I’d met several times, back when Damon was part of Samuel’s elite social circle. He was heir to a British banking fortune and had always seemed to be one of Samuel’s closest confidants.

  “Lord Ainsley!” I called loudly. I needed to see for myself if he was compelled, too. A few people, including Cora, turned to stare. Lord Ainsley nodded briefly, ended his conversation, and began picking his way toward me. He was only a few feet away when a short man in a suit, top hat, and bow tie lurched in front of me. I held out my arm to keep him from falling. As I steadied him, his glazed eyes turned up toward me and he blinked in confusion.

  “Are you all right?” I asked in annoyance.

  He nodded, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do I know you?”

  “Friend of Samuel’s,” I lied as Cora squeezed my hand. “Is he coming tonight?”

  The man shook his head. “We know how busy Samuel is. He’s got business at Ten Downing Street. Say, will you be going tomorrow? I hear he’s only picking a few of his best soldiers to join him.”

  “Downing Street?” The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. There was no response; the man had already faded back into the crowd.

  At this point, we’d lost Lord Ainsley, too. I saw Damon, twirling Charlotte in the center of the dance floor, as though nothing was wrong. Her movements were wooden.

  I had to get Cora out of there before she became the party’s next victim. I grabbed her arm and began weaving between the dancers toward Damon.

  I tapped my brother’s shoulder. “A word?”

  He glanced at me, annoyance evident in his face. “Yes, brother?”

  “In private,” I said.

  “You can go ahead,” Charlotte said stiffly.

  Not taking my hand off Cora’s arm, I led the way outside, away from any prying eyes. My breath came out in white puffs in the cold.

  I locked eyes with my brother. “Do you know what’s going on in there?” I asked.

  “That the party’s full of vampires? Yes, and apparently, compelled vampires are as dull as dishwater,” he said disdainfully.

  “We have to leave, Damon. It’s not safe here.”

  Damon shrugged. “Relax. I’ll have a few more dances, then maybe a quick meal off a servant girl. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Fine, do what you like,” I said in disgust. “I’ll see you at home.” Let Damon shirk responsibility in favor of one last dance. I was determined to prevent anyone else from falling into the clutches of Samuel’s army of vampires.

  Without another word, I hailed one of the cabs waiting on the corner and directed it back to our Bedford Street home.

  13

  “What happened?” Cora asked when we finally made our way back to the house.

  “That wasn’t a normal party. Samuel’s already hard at work,” I said, explaining what I’d seen upstairs. “His next stop is Ten Downing Street.” Cora’s face whitened, and then she turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” I called, trailing behind her as she flung open the cupboards and pulled out sacks of flour and sugar before placing them on the rough-hewn wooden table in the center of the room.

  “If we want to have any chance of getting in to stop Samuel, we’ll need reinforcements. You do know what Ten Downing Street is, don’
t you?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s where Robert Cecil lives. The prime minister?” Cora said in exasperation. “Stefan, this is serious!”

  “I know it is. If he gets inside, then he can turn him and compel him to do his bidding.” I hung my head in my hands. “But how, exactly, will baking help solve this problem?” I asked as I watched Cora crisply measure flour into a cup. A smudge of flour landed on her cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe it off.

  “Vervain,” she said crisply. “We’ll bribe the guards with vervain-laced cookies, so they’ll be protected from compulsion when Samuel arrives. I think Damon still has some lying around. I saw it in his pack upstairs. It’s in a vial—be a dear and get it?” she asked sweetly.

  I happily obliged, glad someone was able to come up with a plan. Sure enough, Damon had several vials of vervain, along with a crossbow and wooden bullets. He was well stocked for a vampire battle. He should have brought that to the party, I thought darkly as I gingerly grabbed the vervain bottles and brought them downstairs.

  I placed the vials on the kitchen counter and then moved as far away as possible. Even through the glass, the herb caused my eyes to water and my fingers to sting.

  “Two eggs, then? They’re in the icebox behind you,” Cora dictated.

  I passed the eggs to her and she expertly cracked them in the bowl before taking the vervain out of the vial. She bit her lip and squinted at the bright purple blossoms. “Should I pretend they’re berries? I’m not sure how many to put in.”

  “Well, I guess as much as possible. Remember, humans can’t taste vervain, so it doesn’t matter,” I said.

  “We can’t take any chances or make any assumptions,” Cora said. “Every part of a plan has a purpose. For all we know, he could simply kill the guards when he can’t compel them. In which case, we need to make sure we bring stakes to attack. It won’t be ideal, but it’ll have to do.”