“I’m willing to take the risk,” I said quietly.
“Are you?” Damon asked. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. You don’t act, and that’s dangerous. And until you stop torturing yourself with your conscience, we can’t work together.”
“I don’t think you can blame me for thinking too much based on what happened last night. And that’s why I need to see James. To find out how strong Samuel really is. Maybe James will know of a weakness in his new powers.”
“Whatever you say. I’m too hungry to fight. Go do your detective work. I’ll be breakfasting at Bailey’s Hotel. I can’t possibly think until I’ve had a good meal.”
I blanched, knowing that Damon’s idea of a good meal meant an attractive woman. “Fine.”
It was the same old story: When Damon was near death, he was my brother, the man I’d do anything for—including risking my own life. But when he was well, his barrage of caustic comments chipped away at my goodwill.
As soon as he left, Cora turned to face me. A small smile played on her lips.
“What?” I asked, ready for another round of insults.
“Nothing really.” She shook her head. “It’s just that together, you and Damon complete each other. You think, and he’s all about action. But instead of appreciating what the other has, you fight about it.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk about our brotherly relationship. I wanted to figure out if there was any way to stop Samuel. But I was worried it was impossible. Not without a force greater than ourselves.
“Let’s see James,” I said gruffly.
Cora nodded, and together we walked out of the house and made our way to James’s Emporium. The sun was shining brightly, and the cold snap had receded. In fact, men were walking the streets with their jackets over their arms, and people were sunning themselves on the steps of Trafalgar Square. Still, everywhere we walked, we heard snatches of conversation:
“Killed in her bed…”
“Heart torn out as if she were attacked by an animal…”
“I’m telling you, no one is safe.”
“What’s America like?” Cora asked quietly as we zigzagged our way through the crowded sidewalks of Fleet Street.
“Big,” I said, knowing that Cora was mostly asking to distract me from the chatter around us. “You’d like it.” I thought of Cora, stepping off a steamer boat and into a world where she wouldn’t be assaulted by memories of Violet on a daily basis. I thought of the Irish neighborhoods that had sprung up in Boston and New York and San Francisco. She’d definitely find a home.
Maybe Cora should go to America. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to worry about her being next on the list of my accidental victims. “Do you want to go?” I asked gently.
She sighed. “I don’t know. If I left, I’d never see my family again. They don’t even know Violet’s dead. I’ve been trying to decide if I should tell them or let them think that she just got…too busy to write.”
“Would they believe that?” I asked skeptically.
Cora smiled wanly. “They would. They always said that London would change us. They’d think that if we were happy, then they’d done their job. I think they’d rather imagine Violet had become a snob, not wanting to introduce her parents to her posh new friends, than find out she was dead. They’d never believe she’d been turned into a vampire and killed by her own sister. I don’t even believe that,” Cora said sadly.
“They only wanted you to be happy?” I asked in disbelief, thinking back to my own father. At this point, he’d been dead for longer than Cora had been alive, and yet no matter how far I was from his grave or how many years passed, I couldn’t escape his voice. Salvatore men fight, even if it’s to the death. After all, that’s what he’d done. He’d shot me, his own son.
“Yes,” Cora sighed. “They wouldn’t be able to live if they knew what happened to Violet. They would blame themselves for letting her go. And then if they knew I wasn’t there to take care of her…that I was the one who killed her…” Cora’s voice shook.
I gently rested my hand on her arm. “Look at me,” I said, stopping in the street as pedestrians streamed around us. I gazed into her deep blue eyes. “You haven’t done anything wrong. And what happened to that whole speech about not blaming yourself? If none of the events are my fault, then they’re definitely not yours. Is that a deal?”
The corners of Cora’s lips twisted, but she didn’t smile. “I know. It’s just hard.”
I nodded. There were no words of wisdom I could give her, nor were there any to console her. We’re in it together? At least you have me? I was sure being reminded she was bound to a vampire would offer little comfort.
Soon, we reached the Emporium. I rang the doorbell and stepped back. For the first time, I noticed that the door was decorated with a chain of blue flowers. It was clearly a charm, but against what?
James opened the door and looked up at us from his height of only three feet.
“Hello,” I said, glancing down and noticing that a few red boils had popped, blooming like roses on his pockmarked skin. As always, his one eye was red and watery, while the place where his other eye should have been was a cavernous, empty socket.
“You’re still alive, vampire. And you’ve managed to get your girl back. Impressive,” James said as he hustled us into the shop. “So sit down. Have some tea. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” Without looking at me, James began fussing at the tiny stove in the corner of the room. I glanced around the shelves crammed full of jars of blinking eyeballs, beating hearts, and two-headed mice. There had to be something to protect us from Samuel.