The Asylum

by L. J. Smith

  “Damon, I’m going to stake him,” I warned, raising my arm high above my head, ready to drive the weapon into Samuel’s ancient flesh.

  “What, you don’t have anything to say? And you were always so talkative,” Damon taunted. “Always so creative. Coming up with the Jack the Ripper plot, lying about Katherine … it’s a shame you’ve reached the end of your story,” Damon said, allowing the flame to brush Samuel’s neck.

  I closed my eyes and, summoning all my strength, I plunged the stake toward Samuel.

  All of a sudden, I heard a gunshot, then a shriek. I dropped the hawthorn stake in surprise. On the floor was Henry, a hole from the wooden bullet in his head, his eyes still wide open. Violet was crouched in the doorway, keening. Behind her, Cora stood with her hands to her mouth, looking on in horror.

  Damon’s attention turned to Henry, a slight smile of satisfaction on his lips. Samuel was rolling around the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the flames consuming his body. “Kill him!” I yelled again as I picked up the stake and rushed toward Henry. If he wasn’t dead yet, he would be in seconds. I felt a searing sensation on my ankle—the hawthorn trip wire. Pain ran up my leg and through my body until it flooded my brain. The room swam in front of me.

  “Cora!” I yelled. “Run!”

  Cora took a step back. And that was when I saw it: two holes in her neck, as round and neat as shodding nails, still oozing blood. Could Violet have fed on her own sister?

  “Run!” I yelled again, my voice ragged. I couldn’t have her standing near this room, amid traps that could go off at any moment. Whatever happened tonight, one thing was certain: Cora could not die.

  Cora took off down the hallway, away from the fight. I stood above Henry, ready to stake him, when someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and flung me against the far wall. Violet leapt across the room and tried to wrestle me to the floor.

  Having just fed, she was strong, but my age made me stronger. I pushed her back, pinning her to the floor. I watched in disgust as she writhed. How could she drink from her own sister? I may have turned Damon into a vampire, but I’d never hurt him intentionally. I just wanted us to be together, forever. Violet seemed to have lost any moral compass.

  “Violet,” I whispered urgently, my face inches from hers. I remembered how in Ivinghoe, the only thing she had wanted was to die with a kiss. I wished that I could kiss her now and wake her from this nightmare, but I couldn’t. She was too far gone. All I could do was subdue her, and give Damon time to finish off Samuel and Henry. Our traps had served their purpose, and we’d severely wounded them both. Now all we had to do was use their weakness to our advantage.

  “You hurt my brother, you answer to me!” Samuel’s voice jolted my attention away. The flames had gone out and although his skin was charred, he was already starting to heal. Samuel held Damon by his throat so tight that I knew one flick of his wrist could snap Damon’s neck. Sensing my distraction, Violet clawed at me, catching me off guard and flipping me onto my back.

  I struggled to break free of Violet’s grip. She was coursing with energy. I twisted, trying to free myself. There was no way Damon could hold his own against Samuel if he was at his full strength. I needed to help him. But Violet merely laughed at my attempts to escape.

  “Violet, please,” I said, grabbing her hands and staring into her eyes. “I know you. You’re not like them. Come with us. Fight with us.” But even as I said it, I knew it was no good. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes.

  “Samuel,” she called sharply. “I need a stake.”

  Meanwhile, I realized with horror that Henry was sitting up. He was rubbing his temple, as though he were merely suffering a migraine.

  We might die.

  It was the first time I’d actually considered it a concrete possibility. I tried once more to break away. Samuel reached down with his free hand and picked one of Damon’s many pointed stakes off the floor.

  “For you, my pet,” Samuel said, tossing it to Violet. “Do me proud.”

  “I tried to save you,” I said, in a last, desperate attempt to get through to her. “You don’t owe me friendship, but if you kill me, you’ll regret it.”

  “She won’t,” Samuel said, smiling. Now that his brother was none the worse for the wear and Damon and I were entirely at his mercy, he had no reason not to be happy. “In fact, I think she’ll look back on this as the day she truly came into her own.”

  I kicked the air, my foot hitting Samuel in the shin. “Impudent,” he said, scowling down at me. “Both of you. You’re dying twenty years too late.”

  Violet was deadly serious as she pulled the stake back. Her elbow was steady, and I felt a tremor of fear in my heart. Was this it?

  “Think about what you’re doing,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You went to the dark side. But you still have a choice. If you kill me, you’ll remember it for eternity. And trust me, you won’t be able to handle it. It will destroy you.”

  For a fraction of a second, she seemed to hesitate. Summoning all my strength, I pushed her away, wrenching the stake from her hand and pinning her to the floor. I knew I had to push the stake deep into Violet’s heart now. She was too far gone, a lost cause. This was the only mercy I could give her.

  But before I could strike, Henry blindsided me, knocking me sideways. He pushed my back against the wall, smiling and cackling maniacally.

  “We meet again, Stefan,” he said. “I think, with our history, it’s only fair I kill you, not Violet. Don’t you agree?” I kicked at him, trying to escape.

  “Damon, kill Henry!” I hissed urgently. In a rush of adrenaline and strength, Damon broke free from Samuel’s grasp, twisting Samuel’s wrist almost clear around in the process. Samuel staggered back in pain as his bones started to right themselves. Damon took those brief moments to rush over, a candle clutched in his hand. Without hesitation, Damon brought the candle down to Henry’s shirt. Already weakened from his previous brush with death, the flame took to his damaged flesh immediately, igniting him like a human torch. He stumbled back, trying to put out the fire that was steadily engulfing him.

  “Get Cora!” Damon yelled sharply. “They might have accomplices!” I pushed past Henry and raced into the hallway, grabbing Cora and pulling her close to me. Now everyone, including Samuel and Violet, stood staring in horror at Henry. The flames were consuming him, seeming to grow exponentially with each of his pained cries.

  “Help him!” Samuel shrieked, pushing Violet toward the flames, but it was too late. Henry fell to the ground, motionless, his body completely ablaze. Samuel must have known he was gone. I heard Damon’s long, low chuckle.

  Samuel’s face contorted with grief and rage. He lunged at Damon, tackling him to the ground, and pulled the crossbow bolt from his abdomen. With a scream, he stabbed Damon in the chest. Cora clung to me while Violet approached Samuel and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off.

  Before I could move, Samuel slung Damon over his shoulder and stalked past me. Damon was still breathing, but he was gravely injured.

  In the hallway, Samuel turned.

  “Because of you two, Henry is dead,” he said, each word slick with rage. His eyes were hollow and bloodshot, and each word sounded like a curse. “Your brother will suffer for this. And then he will die,” Samuel said, as though relaying a prophecy. “Mark my words.” He pulled one of the hawthorns off the wire and plunged it into my chest just an inch from my heart.

  “Stake him,” Damon whispered, barely conscious. I grasped wildly for the stake Violet had dropped, struggling as I felt the effects of the hawthorn course through my veins.

  But by the time I had the stake in my hand, Samuel was gone, with Damon and Violet in his grasp. I sank to the ground, left with Cora’s cries and the acrid stench of Henry’s burned body. In the distance, I heard Samuel release a ragged wail, mourning for his brother.

  We were in this battle to the death. Either Damon and I would live, or Samuel would fi
nish us both. There was no other option. Either he’d join Henry in hell, or we would.

  I didn’t know how the next battle would play out. All I knew was that I had to get my brother back.

  EPILOGUE

  I’d spent the last twenty years on the run, always wishing I could stay in one place. Now, I was bound to London, the dark, dank city where blood ran into the Thames and creatures of the night made their home in its monuments. I was bound to Cora, to Samuel, and to a complex web of deceit, blood, and threats. We were all entangled until one of us—be it by strength or spells or intelligence—broke free.

  And most of all, I was bound to Damon. But it was about more than brotherly bonds. Now, it was truly the age-old battle between good and evil. Except it wasn’t that simple. Because all of us had sins that could never be undone.

  This wasn’t a battle to be won by force. This was a battle to be won by intelligence, by Power, and—I realized more and more, as my mind kept returning to the impossibly blocked door in the Asylum—magic.

  No rules. No limits. The only certainty was death.

  EXCERPT FROM STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 6: THE COMPELLED

  There was a moment after Samuel dragged an injured Damon away when it seemed as though my spirit had left my body. It was how I’d felt when a bullet from my father’s gun pierced my chest all those years ago in Mystic Falls: a split-second of agony, followed by a blankness that radiated from the very core of my being.

  A low-pitched moan echoed off the stone walls and caused my mind and my soul to snap back to the damp basement of the Magdalene Asylum, where our battle had come to its horrible end only moments before. The smell of Henry’s burning flesh still clung to the room. There was blood pooled on the floor and spattered against the wall, as though the subterranean office had become an impromptu butcher shop. Which, I suppose, it had.

  Standing in the corner, Cora moaned again, her hand clasped to her mouth. Cora was an innocent girl caught in a nightmare from which there was no waking. Only a fortnight ago, Samuel had turned her sister, Violet, into a vampire. Ever since then, Cora had been doing anything she could to try to save her, including infiltrating the Magdalene Asylum, of which Samuel was a well-known benefactor. We had hoped to get closer to Samuel, to discover his weaknesses, anything that could help us understand his relentless vendetta against us. Because the murders weren’t committed for the blood. As vampires, we could kill quickly and cleanly if necessary—but we didn’t need to kill for blood. Samuel especially didn’t: As a benefactor to the Magdalene Asylum, he’d been able to drink his fill from its residents, compelling them to offer their necks to him, and then forget all about the encounter. So why was Samuel intent on brutally slaying and slicing open his victims? It didn’t make sense.

  In the process of our investigation, we’d lost Damon. And Cora was losing hope. Cora had desperately wanted to believe her sister could maintain her humanity. But that wasn’t to be the case. Not only had Violet fought brutally against Damon and me moments earlier, but she’d hurt and fed off of Cora. I could only imagine the horrors Cora was reliving as she stood in the corner.

  But I couldn’t think of what had happened. I needed to think of the future—and I needed to save Damon.

  “We can’t stay here. Let’s go home.” I punched my hand through a window, leaving a trail of blood as shards of glass fell to the floor. I grabbed Cora by the waist and effortlessly pulled her through the window, and together, the two of us raced from the Magdalene Asylum gates and out onto the rain-slicked streets of London. Our destination was the Underground tunnel where we’d spent our nights for the last week.

  High above us, a few fireworks lit the night sky, and I remembered it was the evening before Guy Fawkes Day, the holiday during which the British celebrated victory over treason. Groups of drunken revelers roamed the streets with torches, singing songs as they rejoiced. A drunken man wavered by, singing, a pint of ale clutched unsteadily in one hand, and I caught one of the lyrics:

  Last Guy Fawkes Day as I hear say,

  The Devil about did roam.

  I grimaced. Little did he know how apt his off-key drinking song was at describing the current situation in London. The sound of my footsteps echoed in my ears, and I could hear Cora’s blood thumping double-time in her veins. I knew from the papers that policemen were hiding in every shadowy alley, on the lookout for the Ripper. I ran at vampire speed past them, pulling Cora with me, and they were oblivious to our presence.

  Of course, the police presence was useless. While they were shivering on the streets, on guard for the Ripper’s next attack, the murderer was comfortably ensconced at home in Lansdowne House, most likely plotting ways to destroy my brother.

  I couldn’t help but wonder whether Samuel was torturing Damon the way Damon had eventually killed Henry. Damon had stopped at nothing, including burning Henry’s skin with a torch, to make him suffer. Had Samuel somehow upped the ante? Or had he simply slain him with a stake and thrown his lifeless body in the Thames? Torture or kill? It was a lose-lose situation, but I found myself hoping for torture as I pulled Cora around the corner toward the tunnel opening.

  We were home. No one was chasing us. No one seemed to be here, perhaps put off by the signs that surrounded the work area, all clearly stating that trespassing was strictly prohibited by the Metropolitan Police.

  I jumped down the opening, unfazed by the drop to the bottom of the tunnel. That was one of the advantages of being a vampire: I always knew I’d land on my feet.

  I helped Cora down and the two of us faced each other. Despite the darkness, I could see everything, from the packed dirt walls to the pebbles scattered on the ground. Meanwhile, Cora blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

  Suddenly, a creature darted past our feet. It was a rat, almost the size of a small cat. Cora’s eyes widened and I expected her to scramble away in surprise. But instead, she grabbed a large stone from the tunnel floor and threw it at the creature. The scuffling stopped.

  Cora bent down, scooped up the dead rodent, and held it out to me.

  “You need to eat,” she urged. The rat’s head hung limply off Cora’s palm.

  “Thank you.” I placed my mouth to its fur before piercing the thin skin with my fangs. The whole time, I was aware of Cora’s unflinching gaze. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like my drinking blood was a surprise to her. She’d seen me bare my fangs to feed, she’d seen me battle Henry and Samuel. The liquid tasted bitter and oily, and yet I felt it calm my body as it ran through my veins.

  Once I’d drunk all I could, I threw the carcass to the ground, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and smiled tersely at Cora. Our friendship was one I’d never experienced with a human since I’d become a vampire. Even when Callie had discovered my identity back in New Orleans, I never fed in front of her. I hid my fangs and masked my yearnings, wanting her to only see the best in me. But Cora was different.

  “Was that enough?” she asked, sliding into a seated position and crossing her legs under her gray dress, now spattered with dirt and blood. Dark shadows surrounded her eyes, and there were smudges of grime on her cheeks. Both made her freckles stand out, as though her skin were a map of a constellation-filled night sky. Her teeth were chattering. It was cold all over London as a languid October had turned into a bitter November. And it was especially frigid in the tunnel, where the walls were beaded with condensation and a misty gray fog swirled around the darkness.

  “It was, thank you. How are you?” I asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words escaped my lips. She’d just killed a rodent in the tunnel of an all-but-abandoned construction site for the London Underground. She’d been betrayed by her vampire sister, and was on the run for her life. She’d witnessed friends dying, vampires torturing one another, and bodies burned to ashes. How did I think she’d feel?

  “I’m alive,” Cora said. “I believe that counts for something.” She attempted a laugh, but it came out as a sputtery cough. I patted he
r on the back and was surprised when she leaned in and gave me a hug. I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to get close to me after all she’d seen me do.

  “I’m sorry I put you in danger,” I said hollowly. “I should have known that we couldn’t reason with Violet. I should never have brought you to see her.” Before we’d gone to the Magdalene Asylum for our showdown with Samuel, a witch cast a locator spell to help Cora and I find Violet. When we went to see her, she hadn’t listened to anything we’d said and had kidnapped Cora.

  “You wouldn’t have been able to keep me away from Violet,” Cora said firmly. “You told me she wouldn’t be the same. But deep down I believed she’d still be my sister. Now I know I was wrong.” Cora shuddered. I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  “I was so stupid, Stefan,” Cora said, her face twisting into a mask of rage. “I thought I could get through to her. I thought she could change. But there was nothing of my sister left in her. She fed off of me, Stefan. She brought me to the Asylum, and asked a man named Seaver, the groundskeeper, to lock me into that room. I tried to escape, but Seaver started chanting, and suddenly, I was completely trapped.” Cora’s lower lip wobbled as tears spilled down her cheeks. Almost immediately, she wiped them away with the back of her hand and set her mouth in a firm line.

  “He must have put a spell on the room,” I said slowly. I remembered how small and helpless Cora had looked in that room in the Magdalene Asylum. Even though her arms and legs were free of any chains to bind her, she’d been utterly immobile. She must have been terrified.

  “We need to see Ephraim,” I decided. The only thing I knew for certain was that if Samuel had witches on his side, he was capable of anything.

  “No!” Cora yelped. “Not Ephraim. I had a bad feeling about him. How do we know that Ephraim isn’t working for Samuel? If my own flesh and blood turned against me, no one can be trusted,” Cora said, setting her jaw. “We need to come up with another plan.”