“Let’s go. I have an idea,” I said.
She stood up and brushed off her dress. She looked exhausted and dirty, but resolute. Despite everything she had seen, she was choosing to move forward and keep fighting. And that inspired me. If Cora was strong enough to stare down impossible odds, I was going to make sure she survived to have a long and fulfilling life.
When we reached the Emporium, I rapped three times, listening for sounds on the other side of the door.
“Who’s there?” James called. I heard jars rattling about.
“It’s Stefan, Damon’s brother,” I replied. Sometimes, my relationship to Damon came in handy, I had to admit. Finally, James opened the door. His good eye was oozing even more than it had been the other day, and he looked right past me to Cora.
“What’s she doing here?” he asked suspiciously.
“She’s all right. She’s a friend,” I answered.
“A human? I swear, some vampires never learn,” he said roughly, but he hustled us inside the tiny shop. He locked eyes with me. “You need goat’s blood tea. On the house. I like to do my best customers favors, because I know it’ll come back to me in some way. And you certainly helped me get rid of my back inventory of vervain.” He gestured to a small table in the corner, waving us to sit down.
I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, unsure of how to tell him what had actually happened with the vervain. I decided to stall, hoping that the magic-infused products lining the shelves would inspire a new plan. “Tea would be terrific.”
James bustled around in the back of the shop as Cora and I sat at the rickety table.
“A special drink for the miss,” James said as he returned, offering Cora a steaming mug of broth. “It has rhinoceros horn flakes. Good for bravery,” he explained solemnly. Cora clutched the cup with two hands and took a tiny sip.
“It’s good,” Cora said. “It just tastes like the Irish tea back home.”
“Well, you’re not here for tea, so let’s talk,” James said, taking a seat behind the counter and draining his own mug. “Where’s your brother?”
I chose my words carefully. “He’s on a different path now,” I said. That much was true. Whether the road was leading to destruction, I was trying not to think. “But we need your help. The Jack the Ripper murders are being committed by a demented vampire. London is in danger.”
“London’s in danger?” James asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. “London’s always in danger. For the past thousand years, people have been saying that, and yet the city is still standing. And why should I care about the current crisis? There’ll just be another one after it.”
I racked my brain. It was true. Why should he care? He was unconcerned with petty fights between vampires. If anything, he’d prefer a feud—more income for him.
“Because you’re a good man,” Cora said simply. “Just like Stefan. Please help us.”
James laughed. He slid off his stool and circled Cora.
“I’m a good man? No, sweetheart, I’m an awful man who’s seen and done some terrible things. But I like your innocence. You probably think there’s hope for the world yet.”
“There is hope,” Cora said, her voice strong and steady.
James nodded. “I think you have a touch of witch in you. It’s very slight, must’ve been an ancestor way back, but it’s somewhere in there.”
“Do you have anything else that hurts vampires?” I interjected. “The vervain didn’t work. Samuel … the vampire … has been dosing himself to build up immunity.”
“Smart bloke,” James said to himself. “Most of you vampires are too bloodthirsty, too focused on your next meal to see the bigger picture. But maybe some of you are beginning to think things through. Dosing with vervain, I hadn’t thought of that. And I certainly never imagined seeing a vampire like you with a human girl on his arm. And you haven’t even been feeding on her or compelling her. Remarkable,” James said, shaking his head.
“So can you help us?” Cora asked.
“Well, I’m afraid I’ve nothing here that would block a determined vampire,” he said, glancing up at a dusty bookshelf and running his finger along the titles.
“Oh,” I said, my heart falling. “Well, then, thank you very much for your—”
“Hang on!” James said indignantly. “Listen. That’s the trouble with you vampires. Always jumping to conclusions without hearing the whole story. That’s why I prefer witches myself. They think. Now, I said I didn’t have anything. But I didn’t say it didn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly.
“Now, normally I wouldn’t consider him for you—he hates vampires with a passion and hasn’t been the same since one threw him off London Bridge—but since you’re desperate … he is good in a crisis…” James trailed off, thinking.
“Who is?” I asked urgently.
“Ephraim,” James whispered, as though it were an incantation.
“Who?” It was as if he’d mentioned God or Lucifer or another entity I should have been on a first-name basis with.
“Ephraim. He’s a dangerous, powerful witch. Or was in his time. But then he got too greedy. Demons from all over the world sought him out, and he’d perform his spells for whoever had the money, no matter whether the person was on the side of good or evil. Of course, he charged the witches a little less and the vampires a little more, but he’d do work for anyone. Lately, though … people say he’s changed. But his power hasn’t ebbed. If anything, he’s stronger than ever.”