I quickly went to the closet and pulled out a starched shirt and pair of trousers. For a stranger’s clothing, they fit fairly well. I made my way down a curving oak staircase to the downstairs parlor. The house may have been small for Damon’s taste, but it was elegantly decorated with antique cherrywood furniture and intricately woven oriental carpets. The walls were covered with ornate patterned wallpaper and gilt mirrors, and delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. I’d frequently found myself in abandoned houses before—no matter where in the world we were, Lexi had a knack for discovering dilapidated houses and making them home—but this was in pristine condition. Damon had done well.
Downstairs, Cora was relaxing in a wingback chair. She was wearing a green velvet dress far too large for her tiny frame. Her copper hair was lustrous and she looked alert, but the dark shadows under her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Damon must have told her about what had happened with Samuel. A newspaper was open in her lap, but her eyes were darting frantically across the page, and I could tell she wasn’t reading so much as desperately scanning for anything about what had happened in the East End the night before.
“Look at this,” Cora said flatly, not bothering to say hello. She pointed to an article.
“Did you go outside by yourself to get that?” I asked hoarsely.
Cora didn’t answer, but pointed her finger at the article.
JACK THE RIPPER KILLS AGAIN!
I continued reading. Mary Jane’s discarded body had been found by a rent collector in the Miller’s Court flat. Of course, neither Samuel nor the witches were mentioned. I continued to read.
Dr. Thomas Bond and Dr. George Philips examined the body, and discovered that unlike the other Ripper victims, this one was missing a heart. An inquest is being held in Shoreditch. Anyone who was in the vicinity of Miller’s Court the night of November 8th is urged to go to the police immediately with any information.
“This doesn’t say anything we don’t already know,” I said, pushing the paper away.
“Keep reading,”
Cora said, pointing to a paragraph a third of the way down the page. I skimmed the text.
Sources are confident the killings were not the work of previous suspect Damon de Sangue. Scotland Yard is now narrowing its focus on the Duke of Clarence, seen near several crime scenes and currently presumed missing. If anyone sees the Duke, or has any intelligence as to the Ripper’s identity, they are to immediately to speak with either Scotland Yard or the Metropolitan Police.
“At least Damon’s free now. But Samuel has Mary Jane’s heart,” Cora said in a small voice. “How could the life of someone as innocent as Mary Jane lead to harm? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” I thought of the brave way Mary Jane had faced Samuel. I thought of how she so easily befriended Damon and me, despite the fact that vampires and witches were supposed to be mortal enemies.
Maybe her stubbornness had been the weak spot that had killed her. She was one more victim to add to the far-too-long list of people whose deaths I’d been responsible for.
“It was my fault,” I said finally. “I should have thought of what could have gone wrong. I should have killed Seaver first. If I’d just stuck with the plan, Samuel would have been trapped.” I sighed heavily.
“Stop it!” Cora snapped. “Do you know how often you blame yourself? Damon was in trouble, and he needed your help. It’s not your fault, and the more you say it, the more you’ll believe it. The more I’ll believe it. Just…stop. All right?”
“All right,” I echoed. But deep down, I knew I’d done it because I had wanted to kill Samuel. I’d wanted to feel my stake puncturing his chest. But I didn’t explain that to Cora. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment in her eyes.
Luckily, just then Damon walked down the curved staircase, wearing a blue smoking jacket trimmed in white fur. “What’s all the racket?”
“The Ripper made the papers again,” I said dryly, smoothing the broadsheet and passing it to Damon.
He perched on the end of the low-slung cherrywood chair in the corner. Soon, a smile spread across his face as he shoved the paper aside.
“Well, looks like I’ll be able to reintroduce myself to society. It’ll be nice to be a free man after being a wanted man for so long. I’m ready to resume my life of luxury.”
I stared at my brother. Could he possibly be serious? “What about Samuel?” I asked.
“What about Samuel?” Damon echoed, perfectly mocking my inflection. “You know, brother, I was thinking last night that maybe you’ve been right all along. Maybe we do leave the country with our tails between our legs. We had a plan. We had Power. We had witches. And we had numbers on our side. And yet, Samuel and his Asylum goon overtook us.”
“You could have warned us he was bringing reinforcements.”
“I didn’t know. Seaver must have been tailing us. And why did it matter? You were supposed to kill him if he came. I saw you when I was fighting with Samuel. You were right behind him. You could have stabbed him in the back, then tried to help me. Ever think of that, brother?”
“Shut up!” Cora yelled as she shot to her feet and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t listen to you two bicker! If this continues, I’ll leave,” she said, her eyes flashing.
Damon and I reflexively looked at Cora, then at each other. If Cora left, we’d be alone together. And that wouldn’t work. Cora was like a mediator: We needed her to work effectively. If she wasn’t there, either we’d argue our way to inaction, or our alliance would self-destruct.
“Don’t leave,” I said to Cora. “But I think we can all agree we need a new perspective on the situation. We all want to kill Samuel. But we don’t know how to do that. I think we should talk to James and see what he thinks. We can’t do this alone.”
“And what if James decides he’s done with vampires and stakes you? I’ve known him a long time. He’s fickle,” Damon countered.