Tonight, the only ones who might block our path would be monsters.
Once we got to the train station, I used the last few coins in my pocket to pay for our tickets to Ivinghoe. We caught the first train out of the city, and I should have felt relief. But I didn't. Because I had no idea when Violet was going to die. Al I hoped was that I could get her safely to my cabin.
"Stefan?" Violet asked as her fingers, as light as the brush of a hummingbird's wing, glided across my arm.
"Yes?" I replied, pul ing my gaze away from the window. Instead of looking like she was at death's door, Violet had a flush in her cheeks and her eyes were bright. We'd been on the train for nearly an hour and were now on the outskirts of London's sprawl. Even a touch of country air was doing wonders for Violet. But it wouldn't save her.
"I feel better," Violet whispered hopeful y, obviously thinking the same thing that I had. "Do you think I might live?"
"No," I said sadly. I didn't want to be cal ous, but it would be even crueler to fil her with false hope. No matter how she felt or how she looked, Violet's fate was sealed.
"Oh," she said quietly, pressing her lips together and staring out at the greenery passing by the window. The compartment we were seated in was identical to the one I had sat in when I came to London. A silver tea-service tray lay between us, with china plates piled high with scones and sandwiches. It was stil very early, and the train was almost deserted. Violet had alternated between dozing and taking dainty bites of one of the scones. I'd spent the majority of the journey staring out the window. The scenery was lush and green, and total y at odds with the darkness of my mood.
"Once the transition starts, there's no cure," I repeated patiently.
"Except if I drink human blood," Violet corrected.
"That's not a cure," I said grimly.
"I know," Violet said quietly before staring far off into the distance.
"If I could go back and do it al over again, I would have chosen death," I said. I put my hand on top of hers to comfort her.
"There's so much I haven't seen and haven't done," Violet said sadly. "I was never onstage, I never had children . . . I've never even been in love." I continued to stroke her smal hand. There was nothing I could say.
Violet whimpered and al owed her head to rest against my shoulder. "I'm so cold," she whispered.
"I know. I know," I said. I stroked her hair, wishing I could make her death easier. It would be, I told myself. Once we were back at the Manor and away from danger. I wanted her to find solace in the quiet of my cabin and peaceful y slip away. She'd had a hard life. Maybe the afterlife would be better for her.
Violet's breathing steadied, and she fel asleep. I glanced out the window. The sky seemed clearer the farther we got from London. I heard a faint noise, but it wasn't coming from my mind. It was coming from outside.
"Yes?" I cal ed sharply, assuming it was a porter arriving with more scones or another selection of papers.
But no one answered. The scratching noise was persistent, louder than just a stowaway rat.
I heard another noise, as if the train had hit a large animal. But the train kept rol ing. I glanced out the window and a long, low growl I didn't quite recognize as my own escaped my lips.
There, peering upside down through the window, was Samuel's brother, Henry. His face was pressed to the glass, and his golden-blond hair was blowing in the wind.
We locked eyes, and for one wild moment I thought he'd come to see Violet, an eager beau's overtures gone too far. But then I noticed his elongated canines, his bloodshot eyes, and I slowly understood. Henry was a vampire. And Henry wasn't eagerly looking for Violet. He was hunting
- for us.
I slammed the blue damask curtains of the window shut and looked around madly for any escape. But of course there was none. I felt my heart harden. This was Damon's doing. It had to be. Because why else would Henry be here? Even as children, he'd goad the Giffin boys into throwing rocks at a passing train or letting the chickens loose during a barbeque. That way, he wouldn't risk punishment. Now, he was doing the same thing, except with a cadre of vampires.
I had to protect Violet. I couldn't let Henry grab Violet and force her to feed. I couldn't have her turn into a vampire against her wishes. I hastily stole to the caboose and climbed the rickety ladder to the top of the iron train. The wind pelted dirt and pebbles into my face, and the soot and fumes whirling around my head made it almost impossible to see anything.
"Henry!" I cal ed, steadying myself on the steam pipe poking from the top of the train. I crouched low, ready for a fight.
Nothing. The train continued to chug forward. A sliver of doubt crept through my brain. Had it been some sort of vision? A paranoid hal ucination?
A cry of outrage sounded behind me.
Before I could turn, I felt a weight on my back, fol owed by cold hands sliding around my neck. I gasped and tried to writhe free from the grip. I was locked in a chokehold, Henry's arm tight around my windpipe. I groaned, trying to fight him off while keeping my balance.
"Are you ready to die?" Henry whispered in my ear. His impeccable accent was perfectly modulated, and his breath was hot against my neck.
Once again, he applied pressure to my throat.
Die. The word echoed in my head. I'd forgotten what it was like to be hunted. But now, I was captured. And if I didn't do something, I would die.
And Violet would be worse than dead. I had to do something. I had to . . .
Stay still. A voice - Lexi's? My own? - screamed instruction in my head, even though it was counterintuitive to my being's every instinct. My arm twitched beneath Henry's grasp. Stay still! the voice insisted.