11
The next morning, I hurried across town to Whitechapel, eager to deliver the vervain to Cora. Damon and I had spent the night pressing the flowers into liquid, braving the angry red rashes it left all over our hands and arms. Even now, safely packed in glass vials, the scent made my skin tingle and my eyes burn. Our interactions had been similarly prickly. I’d avoided any mention of Katherine, but Damon had seemed on edge and tried to disguise it by discussing his many conquests. After a while, I’d stopped listening. The story was always the same: beautiful woman, delicious blood, being invited to the finest parties in the area before getting bored and moving on. He didn’t yearn for a home the way I did. And more and more, I wondered whether that was a blessing.
I made a hasty stop at the bakery, then hurried to the alley where we’d met before. Cora was already there, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Cora!” I called to her. Her face broke into a forced smile.
“Stefan! I’m glad you’re here. Do you have the vervain?” Cora asked.
I held up the vials in response.
“Good,” she said, relieved. “They came again last night. This time they took Cathy and Elizabeth. They’re my friends, and…” She shook her head. “We have to stop them.” Cora’s lower lip trembled. It was the first time I’d seen her acting anything other than strong, and it caught me off guard.
“Don’t worry. Damon and I came up with a plan.” I handed her the vials. The glass glinted in the sunlight. “I need you to put some in every girl’s drink before the benefit tonight. It only needs to be a drop. Can you do that?”
Cora nodded solemnly.
“It will be fine,” I assured her, standing up and planting a kiss on the top of her head as I put the bag of treats next to her. “I’ll see you tonight. This will all be over soon,” I promised.
“I hope so,” Cora said.
“It will be,” I repeated. “You just have to believe it will.”
Cora gave me a soft smile in return, but I could tell her mind was spinning in her own, private way.
“I should get going,” I said, standing up and leaving her to her thoughts. Before I continued down the alley, I gave her shoulder a light squeeze. Somehow, I would make sure she was okay.
That night, a brilliant golden-orange sunset lit up the September sky, usually so thick with clouds. It was a beautiful evening, and along the Thames artists were sketching, lovers were walking hand in hand, and buskers were playing instruments and prodding visitors to give them money.
Damon and I blended into the crowd. We were dressed in black, monk robes that I’d procured from a local church. I hadn’t even bothered to compel—instead, I’d stolen them outright. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if I was in God’s good graces in the first place.
The Magdalene Asylum benefit was being held in the Lanesborough Hotel, opposite Hyde Park. Damon assured me he’d been to dozens of balls there. I couldn’t understand why he’d bother. Didn’t he tire of them? I’d only been to a few, but had found them all to be the same: too much champagne, too much perfume, too much dancing, and too much talking, none of it about anything of consequence. Of course, my solitary walks and endless thinking weren’t much better.
“The monk’s attire suits you. It’s too bad you are a creature of the night, or you might have had quite a career as a man of the cloth,” Damon said, taking in my dark robes.
“I already have a guilty conscience. I doubt I could listen to other people’s sins,” I said, swatting at his arm. But the move was more of a brotherly punch than the start of one of our former brutal fights.
“No drinking, no swearing, no overindulging, no killing … face it, you already live a monk’s life, brother. Aren’t you glad I saved you from the boredom?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Aren’t you glad I came to shake some sense into you?”
Damon paused, as if pretending to think it over. “No,” he said finally. “Sense and I don’t mix. You know that.”
“What do you think you’ll do after this?” I asked, as we turned onto the winding gravel path into the park.
“I don’t know,” Damon said, a faraway look in his eyes. “What do you do when you’ve been everywhere? You have to keep things exciting. Maybe someday they’ll invent a machine to bring me to another planet.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “Do you think you could create a life here?” I wanted something substantial, something that would allow me to know my brother as more than the monster he’d become in my mind.
“I don’t think I need to create my life. I live my life. That’s what you need to do, brother,” Damon said. I shrugged off his minimalist philosophy—it was devoid of moral structure, but I didn’t have time to argue it.
The entrance was lit up by large torches. Well-dressed servants lined the path, and coaches streamed down the cobblestone streets. The Magdalene Asylum seemed to be the most popular cause to support in London these days, and if we hadn’t been disguised as monks, our invitations would have been scrutinized closely. As it were, we were ushered through the large glass doors and into a vast ballroom without a backward glance. No one wanted to offend the Church, and everyone assumed we were simply there to offer support and prayers to the Asylum girls the benefit was allegedly honoring.
The walls and roof were all glass and reflected the whirling dancers already on the ballroom floor. Garlands of flowers wrapped around the columns dotting the perimeter of the room, and servers were circulating among the guests, their arms laden with platters of food. Scattered throughout the party in their familiar-looking gray smocks were the girls of the Magdalene Asylum. They were obviously there to remind patrons where all their money was going, but people were gawking at them as though they were performers at a circus. Most, however, were huddled in corners in groups, fearfully looking at the attendees as though they might bite. Which they might.
I squinted, trying to pick Cora out of the crowd. Finally, I saw her. She was engaged in a low, whispered conversation with a slight girl whose dark hair hung in two plaits down her back.
“There she is.” I elbowed Damon, and together, we made our way over to her, passing directly in the path of Sister Benedict’s hawklike stare. She waved us on without glancing at our faces.
“Cora!” I whispered. Cora glanced over, her expression instantly changing from confusion to recognition. She picked her way through the girls, who all began whispering among each other, wondering why she was the one chosen to have an audience with two monks.
“Why, hello, Brother. Don’t worry, I said my prayers yesterday,” she said, winking.
I smiled as I leaned in toward her, so my mouth was only inches from her ear. “You gave some to every girl?” I asked.
Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled around and found myself eye to eye with Sister Benedict.
“Hello, Brother,” Sister Benedict said, her voice dripping with piety. “How are you finding the evening?”
“Bless you, Sister.” I bowed deeply, not giving her a chance to notice I shared a remarkable resemblance to one of the generous de Croix brothers. “The evening is a joy. I’d love to pay my respects to the organizer of tonight’s event. When will he be arriving?” I asked, hoping my anticipation wasn’t too evident in my question.
Sister Benedict’s face broke into a crooked smile. “When you ask, God provides. Look!” She gestured toward a balcony that overlooked the ballroom floor, lit by a bright gas lamp. A man I didn’t recognize stepped toward the balcony’s railing and looked down. The band stopped playing, and the man spread his arms wide as if in greeting.
“Welcome, friends, to the Magdalene Asylum Benefit Ball!” he said to a roar of applause and a few whistles. “And now for your host, Samuel Mortimer!”
I looked up along with the rest of the crowd as Samuel burst through the doors and onto the balcony to the roar of applause. His blond hair was slicked back behind his ears and curled right above his collar, making him look more lionlike than ever. And on his arm, with her face pale and her long hair piled on top of her head, was Violet. If possible, her eyes looked larger, and her mouth more red, although from this distance it was impossible to tell if it was makeup, a trick of the light, or a smudge of blood from her last feeding. Samuel stood close to her, but it didn’t look like she was being held against her will. If anything, whenever Samuel shifted away from her, she would pull him back, as if she had to have Samuel beside her at all times.
I heard murmurs ripple through the crowd. I could imagine what they were whispering. I’m sure they were wondering where she’d come from, why Samuel had chosen to escort her to the benefit. If only they’d known her less than a week ago, before she’d been forced to drink Oliver’s blood. If only they knew the man on her arm was evil incarnate. And if only they knew that vampires walked among them—and that some were capable of far more destruction than they could even imagine.
“Violet!” I heard a shriek as I saw Cora spring from her chair at the far end of the room and run toward her sister. Luckily, the band had resumed and the ballroom was abuzz with chattering, glass clinking, and footsteps. No one had heard her outburst except a few girls sitting nearby. But even that was too many. Any attention drawn to Cora, or to us, put our plan at risk.
“No!” Damon and I yelled at the same time, racing into the crush of bodies that separated us from Cora. But Damon was faster, and instantly, he was by her side. He seized her arm with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. “Be quiet!” he ordered, wrestling her back into her chair. Then, he leaned in front of her, his hands clasped in prayer.
“She’s hysterical,” he said, loudly enough so the girls and Sister Benedict could hear. “It sometimes happens when young women aren’t accustomed to large crowds. We’ll say an extra prayer for her,” Damon added as I joined him in front of Cora.
“What were you trying to do?” I hissed. She winced at my harsh tone. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Violet had heard Cora’s cry. Luckily, she was at the opposite end of the room, curtseying in front of a tall, thin man whom I vaguely recognized as the Lord Mayor of London.
“I’m sorry!” Cora whispered, the color draining from her face. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it in her hands, staring intently at the fabric instead of me. “I don’t know what came over me. I just saw Violet and was so happy to see her… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I shot Damon a look. The plan was still in place. Everything would be fine.
“He’s right,” Damon said. “You weren’t even that loud. I’ve heard Stefan scream louder at his own shadow,” Damon quipped.
A glimmer of a smile crossed Cora’s face. I suppose she felt that if Damon and I were still engaging in civil banter, everything would be all right. She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “Do you think she knows I’m here?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
“Vampires have good senses, but they aren’t telepathic. They can’t tell where someone else is unless they hear or see them,” I explained. “Now, please remember that the quieter you are, the better chance we have of getting Violet.” I locked eyes with her and nodded, reassuring her that we could still do this. Her determined expression reminded me so much of Oliver’s when he would try to convince me to take him hunting that my heart clenched.
I looked back at the crowd. Violet was still deep in conversation with the Lord Mayor, but Samuel had left her side. I saw that he was now clasping hands with Sister Benedict, only a few paces away from me. I froze, panic setting in as I imagined him asking about the pair of monks who weren’t on the approved invitee list.
But then, Sister Benedict ushered him into the crowd of Asylum girls. He tapped one on the shoulder. She was stocky, with brown hair that grazed her shoulders and large, doelike brown eyes.
I sucked in my breath as I placed a warning hand on Damon’s shoulder. I didn’t trust him not to try to surprise Samuel. But he stayed by my side silently. One by one, Samuel picked his victims and escorted them toward the back of the ballroom.
“It’s time,” I whispered to Cora.
She nodded, her large eyes shining. “Good luck.”
I smiled confidently. I didn’t need luck anymore. I had a foolproof plan and revenge-hungry Damon on my side. Now all we needed to do was fight for our freedom.