“Cora!” I whispered. Cora glanced over, her expression instantly changing from confusion to recognition. She picked her way through the girls, who all began whispering among each other, wondering why she was the one chosen to have an audience with two monks.
“Why, hello, Brother. Don’t worry, I said my prayers yesterday,” she said, winking.
I smiled as I leaned in toward her, so my mouth was only inches from her ear. “You gave some to every girl?” I asked.
Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled around and found myself eye to eye with Sister Benedict.
“Hello, Brother,” Sister Benedict said, her voice dripping with piety. “How are you finding the evening?”
“Bless you, Sister.” I bowed deeply, not giving her a chance to notice I shared a remarkable resemblance to one of the generous de Croix brothers. “The evening is a joy. I’d love to pay my respects to the organizer of tonight’s event. When will he be arriving?” I asked, hoping my anticipation wasn’t too evident in my question.
Sister Benedict’s face broke into a crooked smile. “When you ask, God provides. Look!” She gestured toward a balcony that overlooked the ballroom floor, lit by a bright gas lamp. A man I didn’t recognize stepped toward the balcony’s railing and looked down. The band stopped playing, and the man spread his arms wide as if in greeting.
“Welcome, friends, to the Magdalene Asylum Benefit Ball!” he said to a roar of applause and a few whistles. “And now for your host, Samuel Mortimer!”
I looked up along with the rest of the crowd as Samuel burst through the doors and onto the balcony to the roar of applause. His blond hair was slicked back behind his ears and curled right above his collar, making him look more lionlike than ever. And on his arm, with her face pale and her long hair piled on top of her head, was Violet. If possible, her eyes looked larger, and her mouth more red, although from this distance it was impossible to tell if it was makeup, a trick of the light, or a smudge of blood from her last feeding. Samuel stood close to her, but it didn’t look like she was being held against her will. If anything, whenever Samuel shifted away from her, she would pull him back, as if she had to have Samuel beside her at all times.
I heard murmurs ripple through the crowd. I could imagine what they were whispering. I’m sure they were wondering where she’d come from, why Samuel had chosen to escort her to the benefit. If only they’d known her less than a week ago, before she’d been forced to drink Oliver’s blood. If only they knew the man on her arm was evil incarnate. And if only they knew that vampires walked among them—and that some were capable of far more destruction than they could even imagine.
“Violet!” I heard a shriek as I saw Cora spring from her chair at the far end of the room and run toward her sister. Luckily, the band had resumed and the ballroom was abuzz with chattering, glass clinking, and footsteps. No one had heard her outburst except a few girls sitting nearby. But even that was too many. Any attention drawn to Cora, or to us, put our plan at risk.
“No!” Damon and I yelled at the same time, racing into the crush of bodies that separated us from Cora. But Damon was faster, and instantly, he was by her side. He seized her arm with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. “Be quiet!” he ordered, wrestling her back into her chair. Then, he leaned in front of her, his hands clasped in prayer.
“She’s hysterical,” he said, loudly enough so the girls and Sister Benedict could hear. “It sometimes happens when young women aren’t accustomed to large crowds. We’ll say an extra prayer for her,” Damon added as I joined him in front of Cora.
“What were you trying to do?” I hissed. She winced at my harsh tone. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Violet had heard Cora’s cry. Luckily, she was at the opposite end of the room, curtseying in front of a tall, thin man whom I vaguely recognized as the Lord Mayor of London.
“I’m sorry!” Cora whispered, the color draining from her face. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it in her hands, staring intently at the fabric instead of me. “I don’t know what came over me. I just saw Violet and was so happy to see her… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I shot Damon a look. The plan was still in place. Everything would be fine.
“He’s right,” Damon said. “You weren’t even that loud. I’ve heard Stefan scream louder at his own shadow,” Damon quipped.
A glimmer of a smile crossed Cora’s face. I suppose she felt that if Damon and I were still engaging in civil banter, everything would be all right. She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “Do you think she knows I’m here?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
“Vampires have good senses, but they aren’t telepathic. They can’t tell where someone else is unless they hear or see them,” I explained. “Now, please remember that the quieter you are, the better chance we have of getting Violet.” I locked eyes with her and nodded, reassuring her that we could still do this. Her determined expression reminded me so much of Oliver’s when he would try to convince me to take him hunting that my heart clenched.
I looked back at the crowd. Violet was still deep in conversation with the Lord Mayor, but Samuel had left her side. I saw that he was now clasping hands with Sister Benedict, only a few paces away from me. I froze, panic setting in as I imagined him asking about the pair of monks who weren’t on the approved invitee list.
But then, Sister Benedict ushered him into the crowd of Asylum girls. He tapped one on the shoulder. She was stocky, with brown hair that grazed her shoulders and large, doelike brown eyes.