“I’ve been waiting for this,” Damon said in a low voice. “And I knew revenge would be mine. I want you to burn before you get to hell,” Damon hissed, leaning down and allowing the flame to brush against the sleeve of Samuel’s shirt. The flames ripped through the starched white fabric. Samuel writhed in pain, but didn’t make a sound. For a second I wondered: Was he impervious to fire, too? But I could see a path of charred flesh where the fire had touched him. It just wasn’t enough to destroy him.
“Kill him!” I implored urgently as I rummaged through Damon’s rucksack for the hawthorn-tipped stake. I wanted to get Cora out of here as quickly as possible.
“Oh, I will, brother,” Damon cackled as I yanked the stake from the bag. “But first, I want to play a little game with Samuel. After all, he seems to love games,” Damon said, setting fire to the cuff of Samuel’s trouser leg. The flame sparked and danced up the hem of his pants. “Once you’re fully ablaze, I’ll let all of London know you were the Ripper. I have evidence. I have Cora, who’ll testify. I have the other girls from the Asylum. I’ll be a hero. And who knows, maybe I’ll even be the new London councilor,” Damon said, as he lit the other leg on fire.
“Damon, either I’m going to stake him or you will. But it’s time,” I said firmly. Damon ignored me and kept placing the candle to Samuel’s clothing.
“Damon, I’m going to stake him,” I warned, raising my arm high above my head, ready to drive the weapon into Samuel’s ancient flesh.
“What, you don’t have anything to say? And you were always so talkative,” Damon taunted. “Always so creative. Coming up with the Jack the Ripper plot, lying about Katherine … it’s a shame you’ve reached the end of your story,” Damon said, allowing the flame to brush Samuel’s neck.
I closed my eyes and, summoning all my strength, I plunged the stake toward Samuel.
All of a sudden, I heard a gunshot, then a shriek. I dropped the hawthorn stake in surprise. On the floor was Henry, a hole from the wooden bullet in his head, his eyes still wide open. Violet was crouched in the doorway, keening. Behind her, Cora stood with her hands to her mouth, looking on in horror.
Damon’s attention turned to Henry, a slight smile of satisfaction on his lips. Samuel was rolling around the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the flames consuming his body. “Kill him!” I yelled again as I picked up the stake and rushed toward Henry. If he wasn’t dead yet, he would be in seconds. I felt a searing sensation on my ankle—the hawthorn trip wire. Pain ran up my leg and through my body until it flooded my brain. The room swam in front of me.
“Cora!” I yelled. “Run!”
Cora took a step back. And that was when I saw it: two holes in her neck, as round and neat as shodding nails, still oozing blood. Could Violet have fed on her own sister?
“Run!” I yelled again, my voice ragged. I couldn’t have her standing near this room, amid traps that could go off at any moment. Whatever happened tonight, one thing was certain: Cora could not die.
Cora took off down the hallway, away from the fight. I stood above Henry, ready to stake him, when someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and flung me against the far wall. Violet leapt across the room and tried to wrestle me to the floor.
Having just fed, she was strong, but my age made me stronger. I pushed her back, pinning her to the floor. I watched in disgust as she writhed. How could she drink from her own sister? I may have turned Damon into a vampire, but I’d never hurt him intentionally. I just wanted us to be together, forever. Violet seemed to have lost any moral compass.
“Violet,” I whispered urgently, my face inches from hers. I remembered how in Ivinghoe, the only thing she had wanted was to die with a kiss. I wished that I could kiss her now and wake her from this nightmare, but I couldn’t. She was too far gone. All I could do was subdue her, and give Damon time to finish off Samuel and Henry. Our traps had served their purpose, and we’d severely wounded them both. Now all we had to do was use their weakness to our advantage.
“You hurt my brother, you answer to me!” Samuel’s voice jolted my attention away. The flames had gone out and although his skin was charred, he was already starting to heal. Samuel held Damon by his throat so tight that I knew one flick of his wrist could snap Damon’s neck. Sensing my distraction, Violet clawed at me, catching me off guard and flipping me onto my back.
I struggled to break free of Violet’s grip. She was coursing with energy. I twisted, trying to free myself. There was no way Damon could hold his own against Samuel if he was at his full strength. I needed to help him. But Violet merely laughed at my attempts to escape.
“Violet, please,” I said, grabbing her hands and staring into her eyes. “I know you. You’re not like them. Come with us. Fight with us.” But even as I said it, I knew it was no good. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes.
“Samuel,” she called sharply. “I need a stake.”
Meanwhile, I realized with horror that Henry was sitting up. He was rubbing his temple, as though he were merely suffering a migraine.
We might die.
It was the first time I’d actually considered it a concrete possibility. I tried once more to break away. Samuel reached down with his free hand and picked one of Damon’s many pointed stakes off the floor.
“For you, my pet,” Samuel said, tossing it to Violet. “Do me proud.”
“I tried to save you,” I said, in a last, desperate attempt to get through to her. “You don’t owe me friendship, but if you kill me, you’ll regret it.”