The Compelled (10 page)

“Help!” Mary Jane shrieked.

“Stefan!” I barely heard Lavinia’s throaty voice as she clattered through the doorway. It was clear the witches thought the plan was already going awry. But I couldn’t focus. Instead, I pressed against the base of the stake. But I didn’t have a good angle, and it kept sliding sideways instead of down. I was surprised at how little Samuel was fighting. Did he recognize the futility of the fight? Was he surrendering?
Focus.
I repositioned the stake, ready to drive it into Samuel’s chest.

“
Asporto!
” Seaver’s deep voice yelled, and instantly, I was pushed against the wall as if by an unseen hand. My temple cracked against the wooden wall and blood spurted from my forehead, obstructing my vision. When I went to wipe it away, I found myself unable to lift my arm.

“Help!” I called in a ragged voice, hoping the other witches waiting in the alley would hear. A few feet away, I saw Samuel had gotten hold of Damon. I closed my eyes,
trying to draw my Power up from my center and push it toward him as Damon wrestled loose from Samuel’s grasp. He lunged, but Samuel dodged, and in the process grabbed Mary Jane from where she stood behind Lavinia. Still, I was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything to save Mary Jane.

“
Concisio!
” a female voice yelled. Then I heard a sound like a gunshot, followed by a brilliant white light. It lit up the small room like a firework before once again plunging it into darkness. I turned around. It was Jemima.

“You’re free. Kill the witch!” she shrieked. I lunged forward, suddenly unshackled. I plunged the stake I held into Seaver’s back, twisting it until his body fell to the ground. The stake may not have been meant to kill a witch, but it certainly did the trick. At impact, I saw another flash of lightning.

Then I heard Jemima’s scream, over and over again. Damon was standing dead still, his eyes locked on Samuel.

“That’s right, Damon. Stay where you are like a good boy,” Samuel said smoothly. Blood was dripping from his lips, and his entire body seemed to glow. He tapped his long, tapered fingers together as he surveyed the room. My eyes tracked his gaze and I saw Mary Jane lying crumpled on the ground. My knees buckled under me. There was a crater in the center of her chest. Her amber eyes were open, her face an unmoving mask of horror. Rivulets of
golden liquid were streaming from the hole where her heart should have been. Samuel had done the unimaginable. He’d eaten Mary Jane’s heart.

“No!” Lady Alice shrieked, throwing herself on top of Mary Jane’s body. I stood, frozen in place, as Damon grabbed the stake from Lavinia’s hand and lunged toward Samuel.

“Run!” I pulled Lady Alice from Mary Jane’s body. Her robe was smeared with gold-tinged blood as though her heart, too, had been torn out.

“You can’t run. Stay still. You too, Stefan,” Samuel said smoothly. Damon stopped midstep, confusion on his face. Samuel had compelled us both. I willed my feet to move, but nothing happened. I was stuck. I felt my stomach and heart clench. The orphans rushed in, too late to the scene, and looked on in horror, although I couldn’t tell if they were paralyzed by fright or magic.

Samuel laughed. His lips pulled back from his teeth, revealing fangs that glowed gold. “You see, I got what I came for. And you did, too, even if you’re too stupid to realize it. I won’t kill you. In trying to betray me, you still fulfilled your end of the bargain. Of course, your good-for-nothing brother killed Seaver, but that’s neither here nor there. He was no longer useful to me, so it’s just as well. You’re free to leave. And I’m feeling magnanimous, so I’ll let your brother loose, too. I feel you may have new
enemies to keep you busy now,” he said with a demonic laugh.

In the moments since he’d eaten the heart, Samuel had changed. He was taller and stronger, and seemed to be glowing from within. I tried to avoid staring in his eyes, doing anything to resist potential compulsion. Damon blinked, for once at a loss for words.

Samuel kicked Mary Jane’s prostrate body and snorted derisively. “What’s one less witch? You all should feel jealous that she died and got to escape this slum. If I were a nice man, I’d give you the same opportunity.” At this, Jemima and the other orphans fled the scene, terrified. I didn’t blame them. “But I have much to do, and none of it includes spending a second longer here than I have to,” Samuel concluded. He roughly picked up Seaver’s still-bleeding body and hauled it over his shoulder, walking out and making sure to close the door gently behind him. I heard the whinny of a horse, followed by hoof-beats.

Damon and I locked eyes, and as if by mutual agreement I grabbed the still-keening Lady Alice, and Damon grabbed Lavinia. Together, we made our way to the river. With every footstep, I imagined the agony Mary Jane must have felt in the instant her chest had been ripped open and her heart pulled from her body. I wanted to dive into the inky blackness of the Thames and swim as far as I
could, to where the river met the Atlantic and I could swim onward to America.

Finally, when we had put enough distance between us and the house, we stopped. For the moment at least, we were safe. Unlike Mary Jane…

I carefully placed Lady Alice on her feet.

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words meant nothing. Anger flashed in her eyes.

“
You
did this,” she spat.

“I tried my best. I killed Seaver. What else could I have done?” I said. My voice was angry, not soothing.

“You could have killed Seaver
before
he removed the spell on Mary Jane. That was your job. But no, you had to go after the glory and try to kill Samuel. That wasn’t your place, vampire,” Lavinia said, her voice dripping with hate.

“Calm down. You need to be rational,” Damon said, placing a hand on Lady Alice’s shoulder.

“Stop!” she screeched. “Don’t touch me. None of you touch me. You broke your word. Stefan was supposed to follow our plan. He was supposed to kill Seaver. He did it too late and ruined everything. And in doing so, he broke the spell. No more vinculum. We have
nothing
to do with each other now, vampire.”

Lavinia nodded, her eyes hollow. “Stefan gave his word Mary Jane would be protected. She wasn’t. How could you have been so foolish? Only thinking of yourself, and of
your brother, when an innocent girl had to pay the price,” she said in disgust. “Vampires can’t be trusted.”

“I’m sorry!” I said again, helplessly. “But we can’t just lash out at each other. Don’t you see? We have to work together. None of us are safe. Seaver may be dead, but Samuel’s still out there, and now that he can compel vampires…”

“Then maybe you’ll finally learn how to follow directions. We’re done, vampire,” Lady Alice said, her voice cold as ice. Lavinia nodded, glaring at me in silent judgment.

“We’ve just begun,” I shouted, desperate to get them to realize how vital it was that we work together. “Don’t you see? He can compel
anyone
now. And that’s why we need you more than ever. We need to come up with another spell. Anything to hold him back. And then Damon and I will…”

“Will do what? Nothing. You’ll do nothing. I want you both to suffer the way Mary Jane did,” Lady Alice yelled.

“
Deletum vampiro!
” Lavinia intoned, flinging her arms in our direction. As she said the words, the ground beneath us cracked and green weeds began sprouting through the new openings. They quickly grew thicker and taller. Tiny purple flowers sprung from the green stems, and a sickly sweet smell filled the air. They were vervain plants, larger then I’d ever seen, and they were circling Damon and I, creating a cage. Terror flooded my veins as the scent stung
my eyes and made me feel weak. I wanted to collapse, to allow the vervain to overpower me. That was what the witches wanted. It would be so easy to succumb, to finally allow the death I’d escaped for so long to overtake me. Maybe I deserved it.

But not as much as Samuel. The thought tugged against my brain and made me force myself to my knees. Then, I fell back. I was too weak.

“Let’s go!” I felt a tug on my arm. Damon.

“I can’t!” I protested. The vervain had rendered me nearly unconscious. I felt as though my skin was separating from my body. The only thing I could focus on was the pain penetrating the very core of my being. It was as if I were being burned alive, and I could hear my breathing, wet and ragged, below the sound of Lavinia’s demonic laughter.

“Get up!” Damon commanded as he dragged me to my feet and pulled me past the vervain plants. The pain intensified to a place beyond agony. I felt my body being hoisted on top of Damon’s shoulders as he broke into a run.

My eyelids fluttered closed. My mind wandered back to Mystic Falls on a moonless night.

I was frantically riding Mezzanotte through the forest, an unconscious and transitioning Damon splayed over the saddle. Jonathan Gilbert and the other townspeople were in pursuit close behind us. Mezzanotte galloped, jumping over felled trees
and sidestepping branches. But she was wounded by their bullets, and foam spewed from her mouth. The townspeople’s anger spurred their adrenaline, and they were gaining on us. I drove my heel into Mezzanotte’s flank as another fallen tree blocked our path. She gracefully leapt over the trunk, but then collapsed.

“No!” I protested. I didn’t want Mezzanotte to die. I shifted and fell to the ground with a thud, alongside my dead horse…

I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the inky black London sky. I looked down and saw raised vervain welts on my hands and arms.

“Finally. You’re up,” Damon said disgustedly, but I could see the relief in his face.

I blinked. We were on the lawn of a well-kept house in a quiet square. The house was red brick and three stories tall, set back from the road and ringed by a black iron fence. Several large oak trees filled the small front yard, giving the house even more privacy.

“Where are we?” The large trees brought to mind the graceful townhouses on the outskirts of New Orleans, while the three-story townhouse reminded me of some of the ones in New York. How long had we been running? I wondered if maybe we weren’t in London at all, and that somehow, everything had been a horrible dream.

“Bedford Square,” Damon said dismissively. “It’s rather small. The Earl of Erne lived there, until the latest scandal
stripped him of his title and home. He won’t be back for a while.”

I nodded. I knew Damon wanted me to be impressed by his acquisition, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Samuel and Mary Jane.

“It’s over,” I said slowly, the events coming back to me in hideous clarity. Mary Jane’s heart. Samuel’s triumph. Lavinia’s spell and Lady Alice’s sorrow. “Either the witches will kill us, or Samuel will.”

“No. Samuel won a battle. He didn’t win the war. And this
is
war, brother.”

“So what are we going to do?” I asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Damon said. Angry red burn marks from the vervain crisscrossed his hands and face. I looked at my own skin. Compared to my mental anguish, these wounds were the equivalent of mosquito bites.

“Whatever it takes,” I repeated. I pushed my bruised, battered body to my feet and followed Damon to the door of the house. But I knew no change in location would make any damn bit of difference.

D
amon opened the door and I staggered into the house in Bedford Square. It was warm, dark, and quiet. I found a small guest room; the bed was made up with a thick wool blanket and I fell into it gladly.

I woke to the sun streaming through the window. Despite the cheerful surroundings, my stomach plummeted as I remembered the terrible night. But I gathered my courage. Somehow, we would find a way to defeat Samuel and avenge Mary Jane’s death. We had to.

I quickly went to the closet and pulled out a starched shirt and pair of trousers. For a stranger’s clothing, they fit fairly well. I made my way down a curving oak staircase to the downstairs parlor. The house may have been small for Damon’s taste, but it was elegantly decorated with
antique cherrywood furniture and intricately woven oriental carpets. The walls were covered with ornate patterned wallpaper and gilt mirrors, and delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. I’d frequently found myself in abandoned houses before—no matter where in the world we were, Lexi had a knack for discovering dilapidated houses and making them home—but this was in pristine condition. Damon had done well.

Downstairs, Cora was relaxing in a wingback chair. She was wearing a green velvet dress far too large for her tiny frame. Her copper hair was lustrous and she looked alert, but the dark shadows under her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Damon must have told her about what had happened with Samuel. A newspaper was open in her lap, but her eyes were darting frantically across the page, and I could tell she wasn’t reading so much as desperately scanning for anything about what had happened in the East End the night before.

“Look at this,” Cora said flatly, not bothering to say hello. She pointed to an article.

“Did you go outside by yourself to get that?” I asked hoarsely.

Cora didn’t answer, but pointed her finger at the article.

JACK THE RIPPER KILLS AGAIN!

I continued reading. Mary Jane’s discarded body had been found by a rent collector in the Miller’s Court flat. Of
course, neither Samuel nor the witches were mentioned. I continued to read.

“This doesn’t say anything we don’t already know,” I said, pushing the paper away.

“Keep reading,” Cora said, pointing to a paragraph a third of the way down the page. I skimmed the text.

“At least Damon’s free now. But Samuel has Mary Jane’s heart,” Cora said in a small voice. “How could the
life of someone as innocent as Mary Jane lead to harm? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.” I thought of the brave way Mary Jane had faced Samuel. I thought of how she so easily befriended Damon and me, despite the fact that vampires and witches were supposed to be mortal enemies.

Maybe her stubbornness had been the weak spot that had killed her. She was one more victim to add to the far-too-long list of people whose deaths I’d been responsible for.

“It was my fault,” I said finally. “I should have thought of what could have gone wrong. I should have killed Seaver first. If I’d just stuck with the plan, Samuel would have been trapped.” I sighed heavily.

“Stop it!” Cora snapped. “Do you know how often you blame yourself? Damon was in trouble, and he needed your help. It’s not your fault, and the more you say it, the more you’ll believe it. The more
I’ll
believe it. Just…stop. All right?”

“All right,” I echoed. But deep down, I knew I’d done it because I had wanted to kill Samuel. I’d wanted to feel my stake puncturing his chest. But I didn’t explain that to Cora. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment in her eyes.

Luckily, just then Damon walked down the curved staircase, wearing a blue smoking jacket trimmed in white fur. “What’s all the racket?”

“The Ripper made the papers again,” I said dryly, smoothing the broadsheet and passing it to Damon.

He perched on the end of the low-slung cherrywood chair in the corner. Soon, a smile spread across his face as he shoved the paper aside.

“Well, looks like I’ll be able to reintroduce myself to society. It’ll be nice to be a free man after being a wanted man for so long. I’m ready to resume my life of luxury.”

I stared at my brother. Could he possibly be serious? “What about Samuel?” I asked.

“What about Samuel?” Damon echoed, perfectly mocking my inflection. “You know, brother, I was thinking last night that maybe you’ve been right all along. Maybe we do leave the country with our tails between our legs. We had a plan. We had Power. We had witches. And we had numbers on our side. And yet, Samuel and his Asylum goon overtook us.”

“You could have warned us he was bringing reinforcements.”

“I didn’t know. Seaver must have been tailing us. And why did it matter? You were supposed to kill him if he came. I saw you when I was fighting with Samuel. You were right behind him. You could have stabbed him in the back,
then
tried to help me. Ever think of that, brother?”

“Shut up!” Cora yelled as she shot to her feet and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t listen to you
two bicker! If this continues, I’ll leave,” she said, her eyes flashing.

Damon and I reflexively looked at Cora, then at each other. If Cora left, we’d be alone together. And that wouldn’t work. Cora was like a mediator: We needed her to work effectively. If she wasn’t there, either we’d argue our way to inaction, or our alliance would self-destruct.

“Don’t leave,” I said to Cora. “But I think we can all agree we need a new perspective on the situation. We all want to kill Samuel. But we don’t know how to do that. I think we should talk to James and see what he thinks. We can’t do this alone.”

“And what if James decides he’s done with vampires and stakes you? I’ve known him a long time. He’s fickle,” Damon countered.

“I’m willing to take the risk,” I said quietly.

“Are you?” Damon asked. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. You don’t act, and that’s dangerous. And until you stop torturing yourself with your conscience, we can’t work together.”

“I don’t think you can blame me for thinking too much based on what happened last night. And that’s why I need to see James. To find out how strong Samuel really is. Maybe James will know of a weakness in his new powers.”

“Whatever you say. I’m too hungry to fight. Go do your detective work. I’ll be breakfasting at Bailey’s Hotel. I
can’t possibly think until I’ve had a good meal.”

I blanched, knowing that Damon’s idea of a good meal meant an attractive woman. “Fine.”

It was the same old story: When Damon was near death, he was my brother, the man I’d do anything for—including risking my own life. But when he was well, his barrage of caustic comments chipped away at my goodwill.

As soon as he left, Cora turned to face me. A small smile played on her lips.

“What?” I asked, ready for another round of insults.

“Nothing really.” She shook her head. “It’s just that together, you and Damon complete each other. You think, and he’s all about action. But instead of appreciating what the other has, you fight about it.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk about our brotherly relationship. I wanted to figure out if there was any way to stop Samuel. But I was worried it was impossible. Not without a force greater than ourselves.

“Let’s see James,” I said gruffly.

Cora nodded, and together we walked out of the house and made our way to James’s Emporium. The sun was shining brightly, and the cold snap had receded. In fact, men were walking the streets with their jackets over their arms, and people were sunning themselves on the steps of Trafalgar Square. Still, everywhere we walked, we heard snatches of conversation:

“Killed in her bed…”

“Heart torn out as if she were attacked by an animal…”

“I’m telling you, no one is safe.”

“What’s America like?” Cora asked quietly as we zigzagged our way through the crowded sidewalks of Fleet Street.

“Big,” I said, knowing that Cora was mostly asking to distract me from the chatter around us. “You’d like it.” I thought of Cora, stepping off a steamer boat and into a world where she wouldn’t be assaulted by memories of Violet on a daily basis. I thought of the Irish neighborhoods that had sprung up in Boston and New York and San Francisco. She’d definitely find a home.

Maybe Cora should go to America. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to worry about her being next on the list of my accidental victims. “Do you want to go?” I asked gently.

She sighed. “I don’t know. If I left, I’d never see my family again. They don’t even know Violet’s dead. I’ve been trying to decide if I should tell them or let them think that she just got…too busy to write.”

“Would they believe that?” I asked skeptically.

Cora smiled wanly. “They would. They always said that London would change us. They’d think that if we were happy, then they’d done their job. I think they’d rather imagine Violet had become a snob, not wanting to introduce her parents to her posh new friends, than find
out she was dead. They’d never believe she’d been turned into a vampire and killed by her own sister.
I
don’t even believe that,” Cora said sadly.

“They only wanted you to be happy?” I asked in disbelief, thinking back to my own father. At this point, he’d been dead for longer than Cora had been alive, and yet no matter how far I was from his grave or how many years passed, I couldn’t escape his voice.
Salvatore men fight, even if it’s to the death.
After all, that’s what he’d done. He’d shot me, his own son.

“Yes,” Cora sighed. “They wouldn’t be able to live if they knew what happened to Violet. They would blame themselves for letting her go. And then if they knew I wasn’t there to take care of her…that I was the one who killed her…” Cora’s voice shook.

I gently rested my hand on her arm. “Look at me,” I said, stopping in the street as pedestrians streamed around us. I gazed into her deep blue eyes. “You haven’t done anything wrong. And what happened to that whole speech about not blaming yourself? If none of the events are my fault, then they’re definitely not yours. Is that a deal?”

The corners of Cora’s lips twisted, but she didn’t smile. “I know. It’s just hard.”

I nodded. There were no words of wisdom I could give her, nor were there any to console her.
We’re in it together? At least you have me?
I was sure being reminded she was
bound to a vampire would offer little comfort.

Soon, we reached the Emporium. I rang the doorbell and stepped back. For the first time, I noticed that the door was decorated with a chain of blue flowers. It was clearly a charm, but against what?

James opened the door and looked up at us from his height of only three feet.

“Hello,” I said, glancing down and noticing that a few red boils had popped, blooming like roses on his pockmarked skin. As always, his one eye was red and watery, while the place where his other eye should have been was a cavernous, empty socket.

“You’re still alive, vampire. And you’ve managed to get your girl back. Impressive,” James said as he hustled us into the shop. “So sit down. Have some tea. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” Without looking at me, James began fussing at the tiny stove in the corner of the room. I glanced around the shelves crammed full of jars of blinking eyeballs, beating hearts, and two-headed mice. There
had
to be something to protect us from Samuel.

“We need to talk to you about last night,” Cora said smoothly, causing James to turn from the stove, a tin mug in each of his hands.

“Earl Grey for you both. What do you mean, ‘last night’?” he asked, squinting his one eye at Cora. He shuffled toward us, upsetting a fat cat that was lazing in his
path. The cat hissed and darted under the table, where it lazily flicked its tail back and forth against my ankle.

“Samuel attacked again. And this time, he did more than kill,” Cora said.

At this, James slammed the two metal mugs down on the table so forcefully that the wooden table leg began to buckle.

“Damn it!” James said. He grabbed a jar full of dead turtles from a nearby shelf, pulled one out, and placed it under the uneven leg to keep it steady. “Quit speaking in riddles, girl! Do I look like that fool Ephraim? Now, tell the whole story, and start from the beginning.”

“Yes sir!” Cora gulped. “Stefan and Damon met a girl, Mary Jane, who turned out to be a purebred witch. And they realized that Samuel wanted her heart. So…”

“We allied ourselves with a coven using the vinculum spell. After that was in place, they used praesidium on Mary Jane,” I cut in. “We thought that we’d use her to lure Samuel, then trap him and kill him. But he brought along a witch who had a potion that reversed the spell. He out-smarted us,” I explained.

“And he ate the heart?” James asked, his face, even the reddish boils, draining of color. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Yes,” Cora and I said in unison.

James sighed and sat down heavily. “This is bad,” he
said. “This is very, very bad.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why we came to you. We need help.”

“Of course you need help! But the problem is, I can’t give it to you. Your whole story is the perfect example of why vampires are bad for my business and bad for society. They always think they can control the world. They think no one else matters but them. But they don’t understand what they’re doing in the process!” he fumed, standing and overturning his chair in his fury. He pulled down the shades and bolted the door before crossing to the bookcase and hauling books off the shelf. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a thin, threadbare red volume. He frantically turned the pages with his chubby hands as Cora and I glanced at each other. I was afraid to even breathe.