The fields outside were becoming fewer and farther between, and the air had taken on a grayish, murky quality. Whether I liked it or not, we were nearing the city. In the distance, a flock of swallows flew in the opposite direction of the train, toward the open country and the sea beyond it.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find Violet,” I said hollowly. I hoped I could teach Violet the ways of drinking animal blood, of quenching cravings, of living with a constant hunger, the way Lexi had taught me. I hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
A grandfatherly conductor with wiry gray hair pulled back the curtain and walked into the cabin. He tipped his hat and smiled kindly at Cora. I wondered what we looked like to him: three siblings on an outing? Two young lovers and a chaperone? I took comfort in knowing that in his wildest dreams, he’d have no way of guessing our true natures.
“London, next stop!” he announced, his look growing suspicious as he noticed Damon’s bloodstained shirt. This wasn’t the conductor we had compelled to obtain our first-class carriage car, and I could tell from the way he pursed his lips that he was seconds away from asking to see our tickets.
Damon turned toward him and arched an eyebrow. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice. A small smile appeared on his face as his mind melded with the conductor’s. In seconds, the conductor was completely under Damon’s spell.
I watched, impressed by how easily Damon could compel, even when he was wounded and half starved. When I compelled, I was often left with a headache and a sour taste in my mouth. Damon seemed to suffer no such side effects.
“You’ll leave us alone from now on. We’ve shown you our tickets. You never saw us,” Damon said, his words smooth and even.
Cora watched Damon, clearly curious as to why the conductor was hanging on his every word. She opened her mouth and I started to shake my head, worried she’d break the compulsion. But she only whispered to Damon: “Have him give you his hat.”
Damon glanced at her, bemused. “And I need your hat,” Damon said in the same smooth tone he’d been using the whole time.
“Of course, sir,” the conductor said, handing it over.
“And the jacket,” Cora urged, raising an eyebrow.
“The jacket, too,” Damon said. I watched, impressed. It was as if Cora were compelling Damon.
“Very well,” the conductor said, shrugging off his dusty gray uniform coat and neatly placing it on the seat next to Damon. He shuffled out of the coach in his shirtsleeves, the curtain falling closed behind him.
“That was good thinking,” I said. I hadn’t met a human so comfortable with vampires since … well, since Callie. I shook my head, trying to dispel the image of the girl I’d once loved. Callie was the past, and the only thing I could do now was focus on the present.
“It was necessary. His face is plastered all over the paper. At least we didn’t have to ask for worse.” Cora shuddered, and I knew she was thinking back to her own compulsion, when Samuel had forced her into becoming his blood slave. “Damon, as soon as you get off the train, put those on. No one will look at you twice if they think you’re a railroad man. It’s not foolproof, but it’ll have to do,” Cora said, nodding to herself.
“Thanks,” Damon said begrudgingly as he tried on the hat. Far too big and sliding over his eyes, it was the ideal way to hide his features. “Ladies always do such a good job of finding the most appropriate outfit for the occasion.”
Cora’s mouth twisted as though she was resisting the urge to smile. She had already spent quite a bit of time with Damon, back when she was being compelled by Samuel. I imagined she’d gotten used to his dark, occasionally sarcastic humor.
“I know where we can go,” Cora said. “At least for a bit.”
“Do you? We’d be most obliged if you shared that information with us,” Damon said in an exaggerated show of politeness.
Cora leaned toward us, resting her elbows on her knees. Her arms were spattered with blood from tending to my wounds.
“Once we get off the train, just follow me,” Cora instructed, keeping her voice low and glancing at the cabin door. “I can’t tell you where. I don’t want anyone to hear. We can’t be too careful. Isn’t that right?” Cora asked, her tone challenging Damon to disagree.
“Well said,” Damon muttered acquiescently. I was pleased by Cora’s foresight and her ability to manage my brother. She may have seemed innocent and naïve, but she had a backbone of steel.
Cora nodded tightly and went back to looking out the window. I studied her. In addition to the crusted blood on her arms, she also had red splotches on her blue cotton dress. From a distance, it looked the fabric was patterned with roses.
The train whistle blew three short blasts. We were minutes from the station.
“Grab your coat,” Cora reminded Damon, as though she were a mother speaking to her child on a snowy day.
Damon shrugged his shoulders into the oversize gray jacket, which looked almost like the Confederate uniform he’d worn more than two decades ago.
“Good,” Cora said. “Now, Stefan, take up the rear and make sure no one notices or follows us.”
“Of course,” I said abashedly. I’d thought we’d have to protect Cora, but it seemed Cora was protecting us. Did this dependence on a human to lead us to safety mean we were worse off than we thought? Or was Cora the good luck charm I’d asked for? Either way, I trusted her.
2
Soon enough, the train chugged into Paddington Station, trailing a cloud of black smoke.