by L. J. Smith
Then I saw a flicker in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if my compulsion had worked or if it was exhaustion, but I had to believe it. I took my hand off her mouth and she blinked dazedly at me.
“You’ll be safe with me. We have to leave the park. I’ll carry you,” I explained as I picked Violet up and draped her over my shoulders. I sped out of the woods and darted into the streets. Faster and faster, I ran on the uneven cobblestones, always following the Thames River, its glassy surface reflecting the moon and the stars. I ran through alleys and back streets until we reached a part of the city with plenty of gas lamps and pedestrians. Even at this late hour, they were walking the streets as though it were broad daylight. I allowed myself to stop, ducking under an awning. Despite the heat that still clung to the late-summer night, the women had furs draped over their bare shoulders while the men were wearing top hats and three-piece suits. Dozens of marquees lit up either side of every street.
I allowed Violet to slip off my shoulders and the two of us stood, facing each other, as throngs of pedestrians passed on either side of us.
Immediately, Violet began to panic again, and I could tell she wanted to scream, with only my compulsion holding her back.
“Shhh!” I tried to calm her. “Shhh!” I said again, rubbing her shoulders. A few passersby turned to stare.
“Listen to me,” I whispered, hoping that she’d take a hint from my lowered voice. “You’re safe. I’m your friend.”
She continued to sniffle. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair was tangled in thick vines around her freckled face. “You’re safe,” I said, not breaking eye contact. She nodded slowly.
“You have to trust me. Can you do that, Violet? Remember, I’m a good man. You said so yourself.” I fished in my pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, just purchased from the tailor. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
I handed it to her and Violet whimpered noisily. The few passersby who’d stopped to watch us on the street continued walking, obviously satisfied that nothing untoward was happening between us.
I let go of her, not wanting to compel her for a second longer than necessary. She seemed so innocent that I felt guilty for doing it, even though I knew it was for her own good.
“St-St-Stefan . . .” she said, gasping for breath. “The blood . . . and the words . . . was it the murderer?” Her voice broke into another wail. She was bordering on hysteria again.
“Shhh,” I said, trying to make my voice sound like the soothing whoosh of waves I’d heard on the boat to Britain. “Shhh,” I repeated.
Violet sucked in her breath. “What if he has my sister? She’s been missing since yesterday, and I haven’t heard from her. And I thought . . .”
“He doesn’t,” I said firmly, wishing I knew that were true.
“I can’t go back to the tavern,” Violet said in a small voice.
“There’s no need,” I said, gently holding her wrist and pulling her toward the side of the street. In the dim light of a gas lamp she looked pale and drawn, and I felt a surge of sympathy toward her. Right now, I was all she had. “We’ll find you a place to sleep,” I decided, turning my mind back to the matters at hand.
“But I’ve got no money,” she said worriedly, her hands searching the pockets of her pinafore.
“Don’t worry. You’re with me,” I said, glancing around at the lights that cut through the fog, searching for a hotel or tavern where we could take our bearings. A sign down the street caught my eye: CUMBERLAND HOTEL.
“Let’s go there,” I suggested as I led Violet across the street. Together, we marched up the red carpet–covered marble steps and through the gilt-gold doors, held open by a butler in a three-piece suit. With Lexi, I’d spent some time at some of the finest hotels in America, but I quickly realized that this establishment was on an entirely different level. Fresh-cut flowers were placed in large crystal bowls on every polished, gleaming surface, and the chandeliers were heavy gold. The man behind the desk glanced suspiciously at Violet and me.
“May I help you, sir?” he asked, his voice barely containing his disgust at her disheveled appearance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman in a silver chiffon gown with a train glide up the stairs, followed by two servants. At the corner bar, two men in tuxedos were draining crystal tumblers of whiskey. I felt my shoulders relax. For now, we were safe.
“Sir?” the man behind the desk prompted.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. I needed to pull myself together to successfully compel him. It was one thing to compel someone who was half-starved and hysterical, and entirely another to compel a man in charge of his wits.
“Yes, you may help me,” I said, confidently stepping up to the marble-topped counter while a terrified Violet trailed behind me. The lighting in the old-fashioned lobby was dim, with dozens of candelabra giving the room in an orange glow that cast large, hulking shadows on the walls. Every time one of the shadows moved, I glanced over my shoulder.
“What may I do for you?” the man behind the desk prompted pointedly.
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.”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have any rooms available for tonight,” the man said.
“I know it’s short notice, but there must be a room reserved for when royalty come to visit. My wife and I need that room,” I said.
“But Stefan!” Violet squeaked behind me. Without breaking eye contact, I gently placed my foot on top of hers in warning. I’d learned the trick of asking for a room reserved for VIP guests from Lexi. It always worked.
“The best room,” I added for emphasis.
“The best room,” he said slowly, shuffling some papers. “Of course. The Queen Victoria Suite. She’s stayed there, you know,” he said.
“Good. Well then I imagine we shall love it just as much as she did,” I said, affecting a bit of a British accent.
“I do hope so, Mr. . . . um . . .”
“Pine,” I said, using the first name that popped into my head. Hurry up, I thought under my breath. I knew I was quickly losing Power. After all, it had been almost a day since I’d eaten properly. “I shall need the room for at least a week,” I added, hoping that I’d be far away before the week was out.
The man behind the desk nodded, and I smiled. I could still compel. I still had my Power. And I had twenty years of wisdom under my belt. I hadn’t been ready to fight Klaus back then, but now it would be different.
“The porter shall show you your room,” the man said. “And do you and your wife have any bags?”
I shook my head. Instantaneously, a tall, morose-looking butler walked around the desk and held out his arm to Violet.
“And sir?” I said, lowering my voice so no one, not even Violet, would hear. “Just put it on my account.”
“Of course, sir,” the desk clerk said, sliding a heavy iron key across the counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
I smiled tersely and followed the porter and Violet up the sweeping staircase, winding past floors until we stopped in front of a white door. It was the only door on the entire level.
“Allow me,” the porter said, taking the key from my hand and putting it in the lock. He grandly swung the door open, then, placing a silver candleholder on a cherry-wood desk, quickly set to work lighting the various lamps in the room.
“Oh!” Violet trembled, clapping her hands to her mouth.
“Thank you.” I nodded to the porter, pulling a shilling from my threadbare pocket. He took it in his palm and eyed me curiously. I hadn’t compelled him, and I knew the fact we were practically wearing rags, and were without luggage, piqued his curiosity.
The door creaked shut and I locked it behind him.
“Stefan?” Violet asked tentatively, staring around the room in wonder. She walked in a circle, touching the heavy velvet curtains, the oak desk, and the floral-papered walls, as if scarcely believing any
of it was real.
“We’re okay now. It’s late, we should both get some rest,” I said, gesturing toward the enormous bed in the center of the main room. “I’ll just be in the next room. We can talk in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Stefan. And thank you.” She gave me a small, tired smile and stepped toward the bed. I closed the door with a click and settled onto a couch in the adjacent room, which was set up like a sitting room. And sit I did. My mind reeled, and I couldn’t even begin to pick apart the questions I needed to focus on. What was I going to do with Violet? What could I do about Klaus? Or Lucius? Part of me simply wanted to pick up and head back to Ivinghoe, where the only thing I had to concern myself with was a cow that had kicked over the pasture fence. But another part of me knew I was bound to London. I was a part of this now. Until I solved the mystery of the murder, more people would get killed.
Terrifying thoughts kept turning in my head as night turned into day. Below me, the well-lit streets looked orderly and tidy: modern civilization at its finest. Even the rain-slicked surface looked somehow stately. But I knew it was all an illusion. Vampires struck anywhere, and just because this one had chosen the bad part of town didn’t mean he wouldn’t come here next.
Finally, the sun rose, burning off some of the thick clouds. The door creaked open, providing a much-needed interruption from my endlessly cycling thoughts.
“Hello?” I called hesitantly. I still felt on edge, and any noise caused a tingling in my gums, a subtle reminder that I was ready to fight at any moment.
“Stefan?” Violet said shyly, stepping into the room. Her red hair was pulled up in a bun on top of her head and her pinafore looked brighter than it had last night, making me guess she’d rinsed it in the opulent washroom. Her eyes were sparkling and her hair, I realized now in the light, was flecked with gold.
“Violet,” I said, rising unsteadily to my feet. I ignored the hunger pangs in my stomach.
“Did you sleep?” Violet asked, settling onto the couch and pulling her legs underneath her. I crossed the room and perched on the wooden desk chair opposite her.
I shook my head. “I had a lot on my mind,” I said, clenching and unclenching my jaw. Every part of my body ached, although whether it was from the terror of last night or from our flight through London, I couldn’t tell.
“I did, too,” Violet confessed, sighing sadly as she cradled her head in her hands. “My sister . . . I’m so worried about her,” she said finally.
“What happened to her?” I asked. Just hours ago, I was hoping Damon wasn’t responsible for these deaths and disappearances. Now, I was hoping against hope he was. Damon had been known to compel women for his own amusement. If he’d done it to Cora, well, that would mean she was still alive. But if Klaus or Lucius had found her . . . I shivered.
“That’s the very thing. I just don’t know. She went to work at the Ten Bells two nights ago, and then she didn’t come home. Then the murder happened . . . and everyone said . . .” Violet’s lips twisted into a grimace, but she forged ahead. “They said that maybe she didn’t come home because she went home with someone else. That she went home with a man, like some of the girls at the tavern do,” Violet said, a crimson flush crossing her face. “But Cora isn’t like that. And I’m not like that. I tried telling Alfred and an officer who came in that Cora wouldn’t have just gone off with someone, that she was missing. But they didn’t do anything,” she said sadly, knitting her fingers together as she stared at the ground.
“Why not?” I asked. I felt angry that no one was taking Violet’s concerns seriously. After all, she was just an innocent young girl, worried about her sister.
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.
“But if Cora were killed . . .” I began, trying to reassure her with the conclusion I’d come to last night, “surely her body would have been found.”
“Don’t say that!” Violet said sharply. “I’m sorry,” she added instantly. “I just hate hearing it. But yes, you’re right. If she was killed, they would have found . . . something,” she said, shuddering. I nodded, silently agreeing. “But I haven’t heard anything. No one has. And that’s just the thing. She wouldn’t have left without telling me. It isn’t like her.”
“People change,” I said helplessly, unsure what I could say to try to comfort Violet.
“But Cora is my sister,” Violet insisted. “We came over here together six months ago. We’d never leave each other. We’re all we have in the world. We’re blood.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked, trying not to cringe at the word blood.
“Ireland,” Violet said with a faraway gaze in her eyes. “Just a tiny town near Donegal. All it has is a church and a pub, and we both knew we couldn’t stay there. Our parents did, too. Our father used everything he had to send us both here. Thought we’d marry, start families, never have to worry about going hungry . . .” Violet laughed a short, harsh bark that was so at odds with her sweet and innocent personality that I flinched. Despite her youthful appearance, she’d obviously led a rough life.
“And life didn’t work out as planned,” I said slowly. I could relate all too well.
Violet nodded, her expression bereft. “We thought we’d become actresses or singers. Well, I did. Cora did it more for a laugh. But I thought I’d get a part in the chorus of a show,” she said thoughtfully. “And we tried, but we just got laughed out of the auditions. Then we thought that we could become shop girls. But as soon as anyone saw our clothes and heard our accents, they turned us away. We just kept walking and walking around the city, talking to anyone with an Irish accent. We finally met a girl, Mary Francis, who was cousins with a boy from our town. She worked at the tavern and told us she’d put a word in with Alfred. So we went, and Alfred liked Cora right away. But he said I looked too young. So I was put to work in the back as a scullery maid.”
I must have grimaced, because a shadow of a smile crossed Violet’s face.
“I felt worse for Cora. She used to have to flirt with Alfred. I know that’s why he gave me a job, and why he let us rent a room. We’d get into bed at the end of a long night and tell each other stories about our day. She always said that working in the tavern could maybe be helpful for me one day. It’s all studying characters and seeing how they interact. She thought if we made enough money, we could try again to be actresses. She never gave up.”
“Did you?” I asked gently.
“Well, at a certain point, you realize dreams are just that—dreams. I think sometimes that I should just accept it. Do you know this is the closest I’ve gotten to the theater since I’ve been here?” she asked, gazing out the window at the marquees nearby. “And Cora . . .” She shook her head. “Where is she?” she cried, burying her face in her tiny hands. “Things are so desperate that I can’t even begin to think about them. I just keep hoping Cora found a better life. Not in heaven. I mean, here. A better life here. And maybe she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to be hurt or jealous? It’s the only thing I can think of,” Violet said, still hiding her face with her hands.
“I know Cora’s safe.” Of course I didn’t know that at all, but as soon as I said it, I saw Violet’s shoulders relax. I felt sad for this girl, who truly didn’t have a friend in the world. I wished that I could help her. Suddenly, I had an idea.
“Here’s what I can do,” I said. “I can get you the job back, and I can also guarantee Alfred won’t bother you. I can’t promise the job will be ideal, but I can promise that it will be better than it was before,” I said, knowing I’d have to find somewhere to feed before I would be able to effectively compel Alfred.
“Thank you,” Violet said. A slight smile played on her lips. “In my country, on Saint Stephen’s Day we honor the saint who protects the poor,” she said. “And I think it’s come early for me this year. Thank you, Sai
nt Stefan.”
I looked away, uncomfortable with her adoration. If she only knew my true nature, she’d be praying to her saint for protection from me. “Don’t thank me. Just stay here and rest up. I’ll go and speak with Alfred and find out what I can about Cora,” I said.
“I should come,” Violet said definitively, rising to her feet.
I shook my head. “It won’t be safe.”
“But if it’s not safe, then what about you?” Violet asked in a small voice. “I shan’t forgive myself if anything happened to you while you were out on account of me.”
“Nothing will happen to me,” I said, wishing that were true. “I’m not afraid to fight. But I won’t have to. Everything will be fine.”
“It’s funny, but I believe everything you say,” Violet said dreamily. “But I don’t even know you. Who are you?”
“I’m Stefan Sa—I’m Stefan,” I said. I refrained from saying my last name, worried it might scare her because of last night’s message. “I’m from America. And I know what it’s like to be alone. I left my family. It’s hard.”
Violet nodded. “Do you miss them?”
“Sometimes. I worry about them,” I said. That was true.
“Well, then I suppose we’re kindred spirits,” Violet said. “You truly saved me. I don’t know what I would have done in the park, there, by myself.”
“Did you . . . see anyone?” I asked. It was the question I hadn’t asked her last night. But now, in the light of day, I needed to know.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was so dark, and I could barely see in front of me. But I felt the wind pick up, and then I saw the trees moving. When I glanced over, I saw that awful message. And I knew it was written in blood. I felt something. I felt . . .” She shuddered.
“What did you feel?” I asked gently.
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—”
