The door creaked shut and I locked it behind him.
“Stefan?” Violet asked tentatively, staring around the room in wonder. She walked in a circle, touching the heavy velvet curtains, the oak desk, and the floral-papered walls, as if scarcely believing any
of it was real.
“We’re okay now. It’s late, we should both get some rest,” I said, gesturing toward the enormous bed in the center of the main room. “I’ll just be in the next room. We can talk in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Stefan. And thank you.” She gave me a small, tired smile and stepped toward the bed. I closed the door with a click and settled onto a couch in the adjacent room, which was set up like a sitting room. And sit I did. My mind reeled, and I couldn’t even begin to pick apart the questions I needed to focus on. What was I going to do with Violet? What could I do about Klaus? Or Lucius? Part of me simply wanted to pick up and head back to Ivinghoe, where the only thing I had to concern myself with was a cow that had kicked over the pasture fence. But another part of me knew I was bound to London. I was a part of this now. Until I solved the mystery of the murder, more people would get killed.
Terrifying thoughts kept turning in my head as night turned into day. Below me, the well-lit streets looked orderly and tidy: modern civilization at its finest. Even the rain-slicked surface looked somehow stately. But I knew it was all an illusion. Vampires struck anywhere, and just because this one had chosen the bad part of town didn’t mean he wouldn’t come here next.
Finally, the sun rose, burning off some of the thick clouds. The door creaked open, providing a much-needed interruption from my endlessly cycling thoughts.
“Hello?” I called hesitantly. I still felt on edge, and any noise caused a tingling in my gums, a subtle reminder that I was ready to fight at any moment.
“Stefan?” Violet said shyly, stepping into the room. Her red hair was pulled up in a bun on top of her head and her pinafore looked brighter than it had last night, making me guess she’d rinsed it in the opulent washroom. Her eyes were sparkling and her hair, I realized now in the light, was flecked with gold.
“Violet,” I said, rising unsteadily to my feet. I ignored the hunger pangs in my stomach.
“Did you sleep?” Violet asked, settling onto the couch and pulling her legs underneath her. I crossed the room and perched on the wooden desk chair opposite her.
I shook my head. “I had a lot on my mind,” I said, clenching and unclenching my jaw. Every part of my body ached, although whether it was from the terror of last night or from our flight through London, I couldn’t tell.
“I did, too,” Violet confessed, sighing sadly as she cradled her head in her hands. “My sister . . . I’m so worried about her,” she said finally.
“What happened to her?” I asked. Just hours ago, I was hoping Damon wasn’t responsible for these deaths and disappearances. Now, I was hoping against hope he was. Damon had been known to compel women for his own amusement. If he’d done it to Cora, well, that would mean she was still alive. But if Klaus or Lucius had found her . . . I shivered.
“That’s the very thing. I just don’t know. She went to work at the Ten Bells two nights ago, and then she didn’t come home. Then the murder happened . . . and everyone said . . .” Violet’s lips twisted into a grimace, but she forged ahead. “They said that maybe she didn’t come home because she went home with someone else. That she went home with a man, like some of the girls at the tavern do,” Violet said, a crimson flush crossing her face. “But Cora isn’t like that. And I’m not like that. I tried telling Alfred and an officer who came in that Cora wouldn’t have just gone off with someone, that she was missing. But they didn’t do anything,” she said sadly, knitting her fingers together as she stared at the ground.
“Why not?” I asked. I felt angry that no one was taking Violet’s concerns seriously. After all, she was just an innocent young girl, worried about her sister.
Violet shook her head. “The police said they can’t do anything until they find a body. They said she’s a grown woman and she can go where she pleases. I’m just so worried.” Violet sighed.
“But if Cora were killed . . .” I began, trying to reassure her with the conclusion I’d come to last night, “surely her body would have been found.”
“Don’t say that!” Violet said sharply. “I’m sorry,” she added instantly. “I just hate hearing it. But yes, you’re right. If she was killed, they would have found . . . something,” she said, shuddering. I nodded, silently agreeing. “But I haven’t heard anything. No one has. And that’s just the thing. She wouldn’t have left without telling me. It isn’t like her.”
“People change,” I said helplessly, unsure what I could say to try to comfort Violet.
“But Cora is my sister,” Violet insisted. “We came over here together six months ago. We’d never leave each other. We’re all we have in the world. We’re blood.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked, trying not to cringe at the word blood.
“Ireland,” Violet said with a faraway gaze in her eyes. “Just a tiny town near Donegal. All it has is a church and a pub, and we both knew we couldn’t stay there. Our parents did, too. Our father used everything he had to send us both here. Thought we’d marry, start families, never have to worry about going hungry . . .” Violet laughed a short, harsh bark that was so at odds with her sweet and innocent personality that I flinched. Despite her youthful appearance, she’d obviously led a rough life.
“And life didn’t work out as planned,” I said slowly. I could relate all too well.
Violet nodded, her expression bereft. “We thought we’d become actresses or singers. Well, I did. Cora did it more for a laugh. But I thought I’d get a part in the chorus of a show,” she said thoughtfully. “And we tried, but we just got laughed out of the auditions. Then we thought that we could become shop girls. But as soon as anyone saw our clothes and heard our accents, they turned us away. We just kept walking and walking around the city, talking to anyone with an Irish accent. We finally met a girl, Mary Francis, who was cousins with a boy from our town. She worked at the tavern and told us she’d put a word in with Alfred. So we went, and Alfred liked Cora right away. But he said I looked too young. So I was put to work in the back as a scullery maid.”
I must have grimaced, because a shadow of a smile crossed Violet’s face.
“I felt worse for Cora. She used to have to flirt with Alfred. I know that’s why he gave me a job, and why he let us rent a room. We’d get into bed at the end of a long night and tell each other stories about our day. She always said that working in the tavern could maybe be helpful for me one day. It’s all studying characters and seeing how they interact. She thought if we made enough money, we could try again to be actresses. She never gave up.”
“Did you?” I asked gently.
“Well, at a certain point, you realize dreams are just that—dreams. I think sometimes that I should just accept it. Do you know this is the closest I’ve gotten to the theater since I’ve been here?” she asked, gazing out the window at the marquees nearby. “And Cora . . .” She shook her head. “Where is she?” she cried, burying her face in her tiny hands. “Things are so desperate that I can’t even begin to think about them. I just keep hoping Cora found a better life. Not in heaven. I mean, here. A better life here. And maybe she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to be hurt or jealous? It’s the only thing I can think of,” Violet said, still hiding her face with her hands.
“I know Cora’s safe.” Of course I didn’t know that at all, but as soon as I said it, I saw Violet’s shoulders relax. I felt sad for this girl, who truly didn’t have a friend in the world. I wished that I could help her. Suddenly, I had an idea.