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 tel them or let them think that she just got…too busy to write.”
“Would they believe that?” I asked skeptical y.
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 kil ed 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 al , 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 kil ed 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 doorbel 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.
“Hel o,” 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 stil 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. Tel 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 ful of jars of blinking eyebal s, 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 kil ,” Cora said.
At this, James slammed the two metal mugs down on the table so forceful y that the wooden table leg began to buckle.
“Damn it!” James said. He grabbed a jar ful of dead turtles from a nearby shelf, pul ed 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, tel 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 al ied ourselves with a coven using the vinculum spel . 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 kil him. But he brought along a witch who had a potion that reversed the spel . 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 pul ed down the shades and bolted the door before crossing to the bookcase and hauling books off the shelf. Final y, he found what he was looking for: a thin, threadbare red volume. He frantical y turned the pages with his chubby hands as Cora and I glanced at each other. I was afraid to even breathe.