“I was saying, we try to blend in to our surroundings,” Mary Jane said patiently, when she saw I wasn’t exactly focused. “The second rule is, no magic in public, unless we’re threatened by death. Of course, we’ll use magic to free your brother, but we must maintain a low profile. If any one of us is exposed, we’re immediately kicked out of the house. It’s Jemima’s rule, and she means it. The third rule is no talking about magic, for the same reason as not performing it.”
“Can all of you do the same magic?” Cora asked.
“Not quite.” Mary Jane wrinkled her forehead in concentration. “Some are good at spells, others more at finding herbs, and I’m good with animals. I suppose we all work better when we’re together. We protect one another. Anyway, as soon as Jemima and I realized we were different, we ran away from the orphanage and didn’t look back. Once we all found one another, we didn’t need to wait around for someone to adopt us. Adoptions never seemed to happen. People would always come in and say we were precious, or say we were special, but then they never came back to bring us home,” Mary Jane said sadly. “That’s why it was better for us to form our own family.”
“Shh!” Jemima hissed, whirling around. She took the hood of my cloak and pulled it over my head. “Try to be inconspicuous, please.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Rule number four. We stick together. Once we get there, there’s no running off, and there’s no leaving anyone behind, even if it’s dangerous. Are we clear?” I nodded.
We walked onto the pier. The Thames was crowded with cargo ships ready to make their early morning deliveries at ports dotting the country, while smaller passenger ships weaved around them.
“We’ll go by river,” Jemima decided, nodding to a small skiff floating in the water. The name Goodspeed was written on its side. I decided to take that as a good sign. “A boat gives us an automatic escape route. Climb on,” she said grandly as we all jumped over the edge and into our stolen boat.
As Billy pushed the Goodspeed away from the dock, I looked toward the inky horizon. The skiff was moving of its own volition, cutting a V-shaped path through the water.
I could sense Jemima’s eyes on the back of my neck. I turned around. Sure enough, she was staring at me, an inscrutable expression on her face.
“What?” I asked irritably. I had a sense she knew more than she was letting on.
“Just trying to figure out how hungry you are, vampire.”
“I fed on a squirrel today. I’m not thinking of drinking human blood, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Not that kind of hunger,” Jemima said cryptically. She nodded toward something behind me and I whirled around, seeing the imposing Tower Bridge now only a hundred feet in front of us. It stood several stories off the ground, and was surrounded by wooden scaffolding. The deck of the bridge came to an abrupt end a quarter of the way across the river; across the Thames, a similar setup was in place. A gap of forty feet separating the two structures. I was surprised that no watchmen were guarding the area. Instead, all was silent, except for the sound of ragged breathing. It was Damon. It had to be.
“Pull over to the dock!” I called. Immediately, without anyone steering, the skiff turned toward the nearest pier. I jumped onto the dock before the boat stopped. Clutching my stake to my side, I ran toward the bridge. The closer I got, the more I was sure I was being watched.
I glanced up and gasped.
Instead of seeing Damon, I saw Samuel clinging like a spider to the underside of the bridge. He jumped down on top of me, throwing me off balance. I landed on my back with a thud.
“And so we meet again,” Samuel said, standing over me, his face a blank mask that betrayed no emotion. Our eyes locked, and for a fraction of a second it was as if time stood still. Then, Violet emerged from behind a pillar, smiling maniacally, her white fangs glittering. Violet was a completely different creature than the frightened girl I’d rescued a month earlier. In a white fur coat with her red curls piled on top of her head and her lips painted a deep crimson, she looked like a painting come to life. She wasn’t the innocent Irish barmaid I’d met at the Ten Bells Tavern. She wasn’t the giddy show-off who’d blushed and twirled when I’d given her a new dress at Harrods. And she certainly wasn’t the human girl who’d looked at me with tears in her eyes as she transitioned into a vampire, begging me to kill her rather than allow her to live a life of destruct
ion. That Violet was dead. The fiend in front of me was all vampire.
Samuel shifted, and I used the momentary movement to spring to my feet and lunge, surprised at how fast the eleuthro had made me. Grabbing his shoulders, I wrestled him to the ground. Samuel twisted free and I hurled myself at him again, smiling when his head smacked against the concrete bridge with a satisfying crack.
“Stefan!”
I whipped my head around at the sound of my name. Damon was fixed to the scaffolding by vervain-soaked ropes as if he were a sacrificial figure primed for an ancient ritual. He exhaled in wet gasps, and blood-tinged foam frothed at the corners of his mouth. The veins around his temples were bulging and were an unnatural bright blue color. He looked minutes away from death.
“Help him!” I called toward the witches. I couldn’t save him right now, not with Samuel here and Damon covered in vervain. Billy raced past me with a knife held aloft, ready to cut Damon loose from the ropes that bound him.
I gripped my stake and reared back, about to strike, when suddenly I was hit from behind. Violet must have caught up with us. I landed on my chest, my body only millimeters away from falling on the stake. I struggled to a sitting position, but Violet threw herself on top of me, pinning my shoulders to the ground as she groped for the stake.
I heard a splash. Samuel had thrown Vivian and Gus into the cold water. They were sputtering while Jemima and Mary Jane were fighting Samuel off with the repel spell. It was almost working. But not well enough.
I knew Violet was out for blood, and if she couldn’t get mine, she’d think nothing of taking her sister’s. With a surge of effort, I wriggled out of Violet’s hold and managed to pin her hands to the ground above her shoulders. “Samuel will die tonight. I’ll make sure of it. But I’m giving you one last chance,” I said, searching for any trace of humanity in her bloodshot eyes. But all Violet did was laugh in response.
Just then, I saw Cora racing toward us, far faster than a normal human could move. “Cora, get away!” I shouted. Violet was strong and I doubted that Cora would come close to matching her, even aided by eleuthro.
“No. Violet, listen to me,” she said, throwing her arms around her sister’s waist. “I’m your sister. I know you. And I know you have a chance for redemption. Please, stop what you’re doing and take it.” Cora’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Or else I’ll kill you myself.” At this, Violet stopped writhing and turned to face her sister.
“Not if I kill you first.” Violet growled as she lunged toward Cora, her fangs dangerously close to her sister’s throat. Her eyes were large and red, and in that moment, she was a vampire intent only on her kill—even though her prey was her own flesh and blood. I clutched the wooden stake in one hand as I grabbed her from behind and threw her on her back.
I was about to bring the weapon down when another stake sliced through the air and plunged into the rich fabric of Violet’s coat. Violet unleashed an agonized shriek before falling limp. Her skin quickly turned ashen and veiny, her mouth frozen as if gasping for air. She was dead.