- •Contents
- •Preface
- •Chapter 1
- •I scrambled from my bed and pulled on my breeches and shirt. “Come in!” I called.
- •Chapter 2
- •I nodded, barely listening. I took the paper, the grimy newsprint smearing on my hands as I hastily scanned the article.
- •It was the work of a vampire.
- •Chapter 3
- •Chapter 4
- •I turned over my shoulder and saw Alfred storm out from around the bar toward our table. Before I could react, he’d grabbed Violet’s long hair and yanked it, causing her to yelp.
- •Chapter 5
- •I felt my thoughts reach her mind, and I sensed the moment when her brain seemed to yield. I nodded to try to speed the process.
- •I squared my shoulders and looked into his beady, gray eyes. I concentrated on the pupils, allowing my gaze to center in until the blackness was all I could see. “We need a room.”
- •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.
- •Violet nodded. “Do you miss them?”
- •Violet sighed, distress obvious on her face. “I felt like I was surrounded by evil. Something was there. I thought I was going to be attacked, and then you came and—”
- •Chapter 6
- •Chapter 7
- •Violet jumped up as soon as I opened the door.
- •Immediately, a coach pulled up to us. “Where to?” a driver asked, tipping his hat.
- •I saw Violet glance at me and I tried to look as if I were enjoying the show. But inside, I was frustrated. I hated the way everything always came back to Damon, and most likely would, for eternity.
- •Chapter 8
- •I never outgrew my fondness for games, Damon replied, not moving his lips.
- •Violet’s eyes gleamed as the two girls walked away into the swirl of revelers. Damon watched with a bemused expression.
- •Chapter 9
- •I glanced over at Violet. She was listening, rapt, the vervain charm still gleaming around her neck. Good.
- •Violet’s shoulders sagged in relief, and I closed my eyes in thanks. Cora was still alive. For now.
- •I plucked a petal. I trust him, I trust him not, I thought as I dropped each silky flower fragment to the grass.
- •Chapter 10
- •Chapter 11
- •I don’t seek out problems, I said simply. And I don’t create them.
- •Chapter 12
- •I sighed at her existential meanderings. I stepped toward her, eager to stop talking.
- •I looked up. It was Samuel. Instantly, I stood to my full height and gave him a tight smile. I knew that careening through the warehouse must have made me seem drunk or mad.
- •Chapter 13
- •Chapter 14
- •Chapter 15
- •Violet shook her head. “Or maybe I’d be dead in a London ditch. You were my friend. You showed me the world. If I have to die, at least I had those days of magic,” she said shyly.
- •Chapter 16
- •Chapter 17
- •I felt something jump on my back. I spun around and realized Luke had clamped himself to my shoulders and was kicking his legs into my lungs.
- •I stepped back, my body slamming against the wall. I’d cornered myself.
- •Chapter 18
- •I nodded. I didn’t want to give her false hope. “She’ll be different. But I can teach her. There are things that make being a vampire less terrible,” I said.
- •Chapter 19
- •Epilogue
I nodded, barely listening. I took the paper, the grimy newsprint smearing on my hands as I hastily scanned the article.
Woman of the night meets creature of darkness. The body of Mary Ann Nichols was found on the cobblestones of the Whitechapel area of London. Her throat was torn out and her innards removed. Could be connected to other deaths in the area. More details, from those who knew the victim. Page 23. Not even caring about the curious way George was eyeing me, I turned to the page, the newspaper shaking in my hands. Yes, the murder was gruesome, but it was achingly familiar. I stared back at the line drawing on the front page of Mary Ann. Her blank face was tilted toward the sky, unimaginable horror evident in her unblinking eyes. That wasn’t the work of a jilted lover or a desperate thief.
It was the work of a vampire.
Not only that, it was the work of a brutal, bloodthirsty vampire. In all my years, I hadn’t seen or heard of any murder so gruesome—except for twenty years ago, when Lucius had massacred the Sutherland family. Damon had been there, too.
A shiver of fear ran up my spine. Wherever there were people, there were vampires. But most kept to themselves, and most, if they drank human blood, did so as quietly as possible: in shantytowns, from drunks on the street, simply compelling their friends and neighbors so they could regularly feed without anyone sensing a thing. But then, there were the Originals. Rumored to be descended directly from hell, the Originals had never had a soul, and thus had no memories of what it was like to live, to hope, to cry, to be human. What they did have was a relentless thirst for blood and a desire for destruction.
And if Klaus were here now . . . I shuddered to think of it, but just as quickly brushed the idea off. It was my overactive imagination at work. I was always assuming the worst, always assuming my secret was seconds away from being revealed. Always assuming I was doomed. No. More likely, this had been the work of a blood-drunk Damon who needed to be taught a lesson he should have learned a long time ago.
After all, Damon wasn’t only bloodthirsty; he was fame hungry. He loved the society pages. Would it be that far of a leap for him to want to suddenly appear in the crime pages, too?
“Don’t let that story scare you off from London,” George said, laughing a bit too loudly. “This all took place in the slums. We won’t be anywhere near there.”
“It won’t,” I said firmly, my jaw set. I set the paper next to me. “In fact, I think I will take your offer and take the entire week off.”
“As you wish,” George said, leaning back into his chair, the murder story already off his mind. I glanced back down at the picture. The line illustration was gory and gruesome, the illustrator having clearly gone out of his way to vividly draw the innards falling out of the girl’s body. Her face had been cut, too, but I kept glancing at her neck, wondering if two small, shodding nail–size holes were hidden underneath the gore.
The train whistled and I could see the vast expanse of London out the window. We were entering the city. I wanted the train to turn around and take me back to Abbott Manor. I wanted to run away, back to San Francisco or Australia, or somewhere where innocent people didn’t get their throats ripped out by demons. Around us, porters bustled to get trunks and suitcases from the overhead bins. Across from me, George placed his hat on his head, glancing down to the paper.
“Can you imagine, that poor girl . . .” George trailed off.
The trouble was, I could imagine it all too well.
I could imagine Damon, flirting, allowing his hand to graze the woman’s bodice. I pictured Damon, leaning in for a kiss as Mary Ann closed her eyes, ready for the brush of his lips. And then, I imagined the attack, a scream, her desperately clawing toward safety. And finally, I saw Damon, blood-drunk and sated, grinning in the moonlight.
“Stefan?”
“Yes?” I said gruffly, already on edge.
George eyed me curiously. The porter was holding open the door to our cabin.
“I’m ready,” I said, steadying myself on the armrests as I stood up.
“You’re shaking!” George said, laughing loudly. “But I promise you, London’s in no way as frightening as the Ivinghoe woods. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up loving it. Bright lights, plenty of parties . . . why, if I were a younger man without responsibilities, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from the place.”
“Right,” I said. His words had given me an idea. Until I’d found out who—or what—was loose in the city, London was where I was going to stay.
No matter what came, be it murderer, demon, or Damon, I was ready.