Together, we turned and walked into the darkness. Damon strode ahead, clenching and unclenching his fists. I knew he was deeply disturbed by Henry’s story. He’d loved Katherine. He still did. Saying her name was the only thing that could bring a far-off expression to his eyes and stop him in the middle of a sarcastic diatribe.
“Are you all right?” I asked, putting my hand tentatively on his shoulder.
He shrugged me off. “I will be. Once Samuel’s dead.”
6
Katherine Pierce was a gruesome vampire, never hesitating to drink from a stranger—or a lover. So why could I still remember the feel of her lips against mine? And why was I suddenly obsessed with whether or not she and Samuel had been together? Katherine had such a hold on my brother and me, even with her body long since charred and buried. Which one of us would have to die for her spell to finally be broken?
Lately, I’ve been remembering things I thought were lost long ago. When I was fifteen or sixteen, I started dreaming of a girl. The dream always took place in a verdant field that looked like the far corner of Veritas, where the rolling green hills met the forest. She always seemed a few paces beyond my reach, separated from me by a dark, murky cloud. The girl’s face was always hazy, but I could see her straight, long, brown hair and her olive skin. Even unable to see her clearly, I knew she was beautiful.
When I met Katherine, I thought I’d finally found her, the girl I’d been dreaming of. The one who filled me with unrelenting desire and longing. But as I slowly came to discover the monster Katherine truly was, I knew in my heart she wasn’t the one.
I still held out hope. Maybe, right now, I was being tested. Maybe when I finally found her, I would be worthy of her love, that girl of my dreams.
I didn’t speak to Damon during our walk back to the tunnel, and he didn’t speak to me. Tension lay thick between us, and I knew we were both thinking of Katherine. There was nothing to distract us from our memories. The streets were deserted; most people were staying inside after dark, afraid of meeting the Ripper. The clock had struck midnight along our walk. I used to love this time of night. It was a time to hunt, a time to let my thoughts unpack themselves, a time to feel the world slowing down. Now, I felt like we were the ones being hunted. After all, Samuel would retaliate—it was inevitable. But when?
Finally, we reached the embankment.
“Home sweet home,” Damon wisecracked as he stepped onto the ladder and began the climb down into the tunnel.
My mood turned as soon as I reached the bottom and saw firelight dancing on the opposite wall. A petticoat was strung across the tunnel, creating a makeshift wall, and a rusty, dented teakettle was balanced precariously over the fire.
“Welcome home!” Cora said, spreading her arms wide. Kohl rimmed her eyes and she’d pulled her red hair into a high bun on top of her head. She wore one of the dresses I’d brought, which made the most of her small frame.
For the first time that evening, I felt like things might actually be all right. Cora’s hard work reminded me of a fairy tale my mother used to read to us, about Snow White, a beautiful princess forced into hiding amid dwarves. This version was much more sinister, but Cora played her part admirably: the kind woman trying to tame our savage tendencies.
“Did you see Violet?” Cora asked urgently. “I asked around at the Ten Bells but Alfred hadn’t seen her. And then I wanted to come back in case you had found her. I wanted to be here to greet her,” she said, shrugging sadly.
Damon nodded. “She’s safe,” he said shortly.
“Oh, good!” Cora said, her hands flying to her face in relief. She turned her eyes up as if in prayer. “Thank you. And is she…”
“We didn’t speak to her,” I said. “We weren’t able to get inside Samuel’s house.”
“What happened?” Cora asked.
I settled onto the ground and began telling her what we’d found at Samuel’s. Occasionally, Damon would chime in with his own observations. Cora nodded, but I could tell all of it—revenge, staking, a beautiful, centuries-old vampire controlling myself and Damon and inspiring Samuel’s hatred of us—was beyond her comprehension. It was beyond anyone’s rational comprehension.
“Ultimately, we’ve gotten almost nowhere,” I said, discouraged.
“Not exactly,” Cora said, hopefully. She pulled a paper from her dress pocket and began to unfold it. “I found this in Whitechapel. It’s an advertisement for a benefit for the Magdalene Asylum in just a few days. And look what it says at the bottom: ‘Hosted by Samuel Mortimer, Vote Samuel for Councilor of London,’” Cora read out loud. “He’s throwing another party, giving us another chance to get to Violet.”
“The Magdalene Asylum?” I asked, taking the advertisement and reading it for myself. “What is that?”
“It’s for unwed mothers and wayward girls,” Cora said knowingly.
“Wayward girls?” Damon repeated.
“Yes. And when some girls can’t make rent, the Magdalene Asylum will take them in. One of the girls from the Ten Bells had to go when she became pregnant,” Cora trailed off. “Jenny went in back in May. She had her baby in August, but we haven’t heard anything about either of them since,” Cora said.
“Do you think…” I paused, wondering at the enormity of what I was going to ask her.
“I think we should find out more about the Asylum, about how Samuel is involved,” Cora said. It was true; if we could get closer to Samuel from another angle, maybe we’d have more clues. And more leads to Violet. We’d have to be smarter this time around, not reveal ourselves too soon.