“Calm down
. You need to be rational,” Damon said, placing a hand on Lady Alice’s shoulder.
“Stop!” she screeched. “Don’t touch me. None of you touch me. You broke your word. Stefan was supposed to follow our plan. He was supposed to kill Seaver. He did it too late and ruined everything. And in doing so, he broke the spell. No more vinculum. We have nothing to do with each other now, vampire.”
Lavinia nodded, her eyes hollow. “Stefan gave his word Mary Jane would be protected. She wasn’t. How could you have been so foolish? Only thinking of yourself, and of your brother, when an innocent girl had to pay the price,” she said in disgust. “Vampires can’t be trusted.”
“I’m sorry!” I said again, helplessly. “But we can’t just lash out at each other. Don’t you see? We have to work together. None of us are safe. Seaver may be dead, but Samuel’s still out there, and now that he can compel vampires…”
“Then maybe you’ll finally learn how to follow directions. We’re done, vampire,” Lady Alice said, her voice cold as ice. Lavinia nodded, glaring at me in silent judgment.
“We’ve just begun,” I shouted, desperate to get them to realize how vital it was that we work together. “Don’t you see? He can compel anyone now. And that’s why we need you more than ever. We need to come up with another spell. Anything to hold him back. And then Damon and I will…”
“Will do what? Nothing. You’ll do nothing. I want you both to suffer the way Mary Jane did,” Lady Alice yelled.
“Deletum vampiro!” Lavinia intoned, flinging her arms in our direction. As she said the words, the ground beneath us cracked and green weeds began sprouting through the new openings. They quickly grew thicker and taller. Tiny purple flowers sprung from the green stems, and a sickly sweet smell filled the air. They were vervain plants, larger then I’d ever seen, and they were circling Damon and I, creating a cage. Terror flooded my veins as the scent stung my eyes and made me feel weak. I wanted to collapse, to allow the vervain to overpower me. That was what the witches wanted. It would be so easy to succumb, to finally allow the death I’d escaped for so long to overtake me. Maybe I deserved it.
But not as much as Samuel. The thought tugged against my brain and made me force myself to my knees. Then, I fell back. I was too weak.
“Let’s go!” I felt a tug on my arm. Damon.
“I can’t!” I protested. The vervain had rendered me nearly unconscious. I felt as though my skin was separating from my body. The only thing I could focus on was the pain penetrating the very core of my being. It was as if I were being burned alive, and I could hear my breathing, wet and ragged, below the sound of Lavinia’s demonic laughter.
“Get up!” Damon commanded as he dragged me to my feet and pulled me past the vervain plants. The pain intensified to a place beyond agony. I felt my body being hoisted on top of Damon’s shoulders as he broke into a run.
My eyelids fluttered closed. My mind wandered back to Mystic Falls on a moonless night.
I was frantically riding Mezzanotte through the forest, an unconscious and transitioning Damon splayed over the saddle. Jonathan Gilbert and the other townspeople were in pursuit close behind us. Mezzanotte galloped, jumping over felled trees and sidestepping branches. But she was wounded by their bullets, and foam spewed from her mouth. The townspeople’s anger spurred their adrenaline, and they were gaining on us. I drove my heel into Mezzanotte’s flank as another fallen tree blocked our path. She gracefully leapt over the trunk, but then collapsed.
“No!” I protested. I didn’t want Mezzanotte to die. I shifted and fell to the ground with a thud, alongside my dead horse…
I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the inky black London sky. I looked down and saw raised vervain welts on my hands and arms.
“Finally. You’re up,” Damon said disgustedly, but I could see the relief in his face.
I blinked. We were on the lawn of a well-kept house in a quiet square. The house was red brick and three stories tall, set back from the road and ringed by a black iron fence. Several large oak trees filled the small front yard, giving the house even more privacy.
“Where are we?” The large trees brought to mind the graceful townhouses on the outskirts of New Orleans, while the three-story townhouse reminded me of some of the ones in New York. How long had we been running? I wondered if maybe we weren’t in London at all, and that somehow, everything had been a horrible dream.
“Bedford Square,” Damon said dismissively. “It’s rather small. The Earl of Erne lived there, until the latest scandal stripped him of his title and home. He won’t be back for a while.”
I nodded. I knew Damon wanted me to be impressed by his acquisition, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Samuel and Mary Jane.
“It’s over,” I said slowly, the events coming back to me in hideous clarity. Mary Jane’s heart. Samuel’s triumph. Lavinia’s spell and Lady Alice’s sorrow. “Either the witches will kill us, or Samuel will.”
“No. Samuel won a battle. He didn’t win the war. And this is war, brother.”
“So what are we going to do?” I asked.
“Whatever it takes,” Damon said. Angry red burn marks from the vervain crisscrossed his hands and face. I looked at my own skin. Compared to my mental anguish, these wounds were the equivalent of mosquito bites.
“Whatever it takes,” I repeated. I pushed my bruised, battered body to my feet and followed Damon to the door of the house. But I knew no change in location would make any damn bit of difference.
11
Damon opened the door and I staggered into the house in Bedford Square. It was warm, dark, and quiet. I found a small guest room; the bed was made up with a thick wool blanket and I fell into it gladly.
I woke to the sun streaming through the window. Despite the cheerful surroundings, my stomach plummeted as I remembered the terrible night. But I gathered my courage. Somehow, we would find a way to defeat Samuel and avenge Mary Jane’s death. We had to.