“—the drop.” Cora’s voice cut through the darkness.
“I’m fine!” I said, quickly standing and brushing myself off. I let my eyes adjust to the light. We were in a cavernous tunnel that sprawled out in all directions. I could hear water dripping from an unseen source. I could also hear the faint sound of breathing, far off in the distance, although I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t merely my overactive, paranoid imagination.
Damon’s eyes glittered in the darkness. “Well, you’ve told me often to go to hell. I believe we’ve arrived, haven’t we, brother?”
“I think this is the ideal place to hide. But if you don’t like it, you can leave. I can find my sister by myself. I’m used to doing things on my own,” Cora said stonily.
“You don’t have to,” I said. I wasn’t going to abandon Cora. I owed it to her to keep her safe. I may have failed her sister, but I wouldn’t fail her.
“Stefan’s thrilled to help you,” Damon said sarcastically. “Now, I’m going to excuse myself. It’s been a terribly exciting day, and I must rest,” he said as he sauntered deeper into the tunnel.
“Don’t you want to go, too? I’m fine by myself,” Cora said, stepping toward me.
“No, I’m staying with you,” I said firmly.
“Well, then, fair warning, I’m not the best company right now.” She walked a few paces away, where a man- made ledge was carved into the dirt wall. She climbed up and swung her legs back and forth. She looked more like a girl sitting on a porch swing at a summer barbecue than a woman surrounded by vampires, hiding out fifteen feet below sea level.
“Cora…” I began. I wanted to let her know how much her sister had meant to me. “Even though I only knew her for a few days, I thought of Violet as a sister and…”
Cora sighed. “I’m tired, and I’m sure you are, too. Please, can we just not talk?”
“Of course,” I said quickly. I settled on the hard dirt floor. Not talking was probably for the best. Whenever I got too close to humans, something terrible happened. It had happened with Callie. It had happened with Violet. It had even happened with little Oliver. And I couldn’t let it happen anymore. And yet, I couldn’t help but want to comfort Cora in any way possible. After all, she must be terrified. If she kept all her emotions locked inside, they’d end up overwhelming her. I knew that all too well.
I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly I could see stars on the insides of my eyelids. If Lexi were here, she’d have suggested a cup of goat’s blood tea to feel better. If Lexi were here, I probably wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place.
Stop it, I said to myself. Feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t help matters. I needed to sleep. But lately, every time my eyes closed, my mind drifted to the root of my problems. How I’d become who I was now. I’d close my eyes, eager to untangle a complicated web of thoughts and emotions, only to be interrupted by the image of her porcelain face. Katherine. Her large, doelike eyes. Her lips, parting, ready to . . .
Sc-ratch, sc-ratch. My eyes shot open. A rat was burrowing next to me, its beady eyes practically glowing in the darkness. Instinctively, I reached out, snapped its neck, and drank its blood in large, quick gulps.
It was as foul as a pool of standing water, but it was something. Blood of any kind still had an intoxicating effect on me, tapping into a primal part of my being that I’d tried to suppress.
It was only once the blood was rushing down my throat that I became aware of my surroundings again, and remembered Cora was only a few feet away. Pulling the dead animal from my lips, I leaned closer to her. Her breathing was as steady as ever. She must be asleep. Relieved she hadn’t witnessed my true nature, I laid back down, trying to find a comfortable position on the ground.
And then a voice cut through the darkness like the light from a candle.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner.” Cora. But she didn’t sound frightened. Instead, she was equal parts curious and concerned.
I felt shame rising like bile in the back of my throat, mingling with the acrid taste of blood from the rat. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I hadn’t meant for her to see that. “Good night,” Cora said, as if my midnight snack had been nothing but a glass of warm milk.
I listened to the echo of her voice in the empty tunnel. “Good night,” I finally whispered back.
But she didn’t answer.
3
Throughout the night, I could hear the clawing of rodents and the endless dripping of water. London seemed miles away, when, in reality, it was only a hundred or so feet above me. But despite the distractions, I somehow fell into a deep, dark sleep.
…Until I felt that familiar paranoid tenseness—someone was watching me. I opened one eye, then another. A pale blue eye looked back. Scrambling backward and instantly fully awake, I realized I was mere inches from Cora.
“What are you doing?” I asked roughly, running my tongue over my teeth, relieved to find that they were short and straight. As I stood, I heard the sickening crack of my joints. I may not have aged in two decades, but a year of living on the Abbott farm had softened me; I was no longer used to sleeping on the hard ground.
Cora’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She smoothed the fabric of her skirts down over her legs. “I got frightened.” Her red hair was matted on one side of her head, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was sallow, and her lips were cracked. It was odd to see her so vulnerable, after she’d been so strong the previous night. It was evident that she needed a friend. And truthfully, so did I.