Standing in the corner, Cora moaned again, her hand clasped to her mouth. Cora was an innocent girl caught in an increasingly tangled web of evil and despair. Only a fortnight ago, Samuel had turned Violet into a vampire.
Ever since then, Cora had been doing whatever she could to try to save her, including infiltrating the Magdalene Asylum, of which Samuel was a wel -known benefactor. As soon as she’d realized Samuel was affiliated with the Asylum, she’d volunteered to pose as a destitute girl seeking salvation within its doors. It was she who’d realized Samuel was using the Asylum residents as his own personal blood supply. And it was she who’d helped set up a trap to snare Samuel. We had hoped to get closer to Samuel, to discover his weaknesses, anything that could help us understand his relentless vendetta against us.
Because the Ripper murders weren’t committed for the blood. As vampires, we could kil quickly and cleanly—but we didn’t need to murder to obtain sustenance. Samuel, especial y, didn’t: As a benefactor to the Magdalene Asylum, he was able to drink his fil from its residents whenever he liked, compel ing them to offer their necks to him and then forget al about the encounter. And yet Samuel was intent on brutal y slaying and slicing open victims on the streets of Whitechapel, al with the goal of framing Damon as a kil er. His motivation could be summed up in one terrible name: Katherine.
At one point, the name had made my heart race. Now, it made it clench in dread. Katherine meant Samuel, and Samuel meant destruction. And the only question was, when would he stop? When Damon was dead? When I was dead? In the process of our investigation, we’d lost Damon and witnessed Violet’s transformation into a soul ess, cold-blooded kil er. Not only had she fought brutal y against Damon and me moments earlier, but she’d hurt—and worse, fed on—Cora. I could only imagine the despair and confusion Cora was feeling as she stood in the corner.
But I couldn’t dwel on what had happened. I needed to think of the future—and I needed to save Damon.
“We can’t stay here. Let’s go home.” Our destination was the Underground tunnel where we’d spent our nights for the last week.
Cora nodded. A flicker of concern crossed her eyes as she noticed the cut on my cheek.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“I’m fine,” I said roughly, wiping the blood away with my hand. It was just like Cora to be worried about my discomfort when she was struggling with so much.
“Let me help you.” Cora reached into the sleeve of her dress and pul ed out a handkerchief. She tenderly rubbed it against my skin. “I’m worried about you, Stefan. You have to take care of yourself, because…” She trailed off, but I knew what she was thinking. Because at this point, you’re all I have. I nodded, knowing there wasn’t much else Cora or I could say.
I boosted Cora up so she could climb through the Asylum window, and together, we slowly trudged westward to our temporary home.
Above us, clouds and mist obscured any stars, and the streets were practical y empty. People were terrified of the Ripper, and the eerie wind whistling through the al eys was only adding to the evil tone of the evening. The only heartbeat I could hear was Cora’s, but I knew from the papers that policemen were hiding in every shadowy al ey, on the lookout for the Ripper.
Of course, the police presence was useless. While they were shivering on the streets, on guard for the Ripper’s next attack, the murderer was preoccupied with a prime distraction: plotting to torture my brother.
At least, I hoped he was stil plotting, not already tormenting Damon. Was my brother even now crying out in agony? Or had Samuel simply staked him and thrown his lifeless body in the Thames? Tortured or kil ed? It was a lose-lose situation, but I found myself wishing Samuel’s sadistic nature had won out. While it would prolong Damon’s pain, it gave us a chance at rescuing him, boosting our slim odds.
Cora stumbled and I reached out to steady her. We were almost home. I paused to make sure we hadn’t been fol owed, but no one was chasing us. In fact, no one seemed to be here at al , perhaps put off by the signs that surrounded the work area above the tunnel, al clearly stating that trespassing was strictly prohibited by the Metropolitan Police.
I jumped down into the tunnel, unfazed by the drop. That was one of the advantages of being a vampire: My innate agility ensured I’d land on my feet.
I helped Cora down, and the two of us faced each other.
Despite the darkness, I could see everything, from the packed dirt wal s to the pebbles scattered on the ground.
Meanwhile, Cora blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light.
Suddenly, a creature darted past our feet. It was a rat, almost the size of a smal cat. Instead of scrambling away in surprise, Cora grabbed a large stone from the tunnel floor and threw it at the creature. The scuffling stopped.
“You need to eat,” she urged.
“Thank you.” I reached down, grabbed the stil -warm carcass, and placed my mouth to its fur, piercing the thin skin with my fangs. The whole time, I was aware of Cora’s unflinching gaze. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like my drinking blood was a surprise to her. She’d seen me bare my fangs to feed, and she’d seen me battle Henry and Samuel. I felt the rat’s blood calm my body as it ran through my veins.
Once I’d drunk al I could, I threw the carcass to the ground, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and smiled tersely at Cora. Our friendship was unlike any I’d ever experienced with a human since becoming a vampire.
Even when Cal ie had discovered my identity back in New Orleans, I had never fed in front of her. I had concealed my fangs and masked my yearnings, wanting her to only see the best in me. But Cora was different.