The Compelled (11 page)

“Listen to this story, vampire,” James muttered. “Then you’ll know what you’re dealing with.” The cat hissed, and I felt all the eyeballs in the jar on the shelf staring at me in silent judgment.

James gulped Cora’s untouched tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he flipped one more page. He glanced at it and nodded, as if the words proved some unspoken point. “There’s a town in the middle of Prussia called Tulpedorf,” James said, tripping over the foreign pronunciation. “Or rather, there was a town. It
doesn’t exist anymore,” James said evenly, the color beginning to return to his face.

“What happened?” Cora asked, leaning forward.

“A vampire moved in,” James explained. “Kind of like your Samuel—a man with a terrible mission. Elijah was his name. No one knew where he came from, or who he was. He was a stranger, but remarkably charismatic. People liked him, and there was even some whispering that he should rule the town. The more people who whispered that, the more people who started to believe it. After all, strange things were happening around town. Animal attacks, mysterious deaths. Maybe Elijah would save them. Little did they know, he was a vampire. One day, he did take over the town. He rounded up an army of the villagers he’d been turning into vampires ever since he arrived and compelled them to do his bidding. They stormed the castle of the local lord. Then, of course, his army began killing innocent citizens. For two days, there was mass carnage. But just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Elijah called off his vampire army. He compelled them to head to the woods and find as many branches as they could. Once there was an enormous pile of kindling, Elijah lit a match and ordered the army to step into the flames. They did, without a second glance. At this point, everyone in the town who hadn’t been killed just watched in horror. Some screamed for them to stop. But no one did. Elijah did it just because he could, you
see? He played with people, like a puppeteer, and didn’t care about the consequences. And that was a tiny town. One can only imagine what a man with ambition and numbers would do in a city like London.”

“Where did Elijah go?” I asked.

“No one knows.” James shrugged. “But that’s neither here nor there. I’m telling you this story so you know exactly what your Samuel is now capable of. But something tells me he won’t be content with a few dozen murders.”

“So what do we do?” Cora asked. “Is there some sort of antidote? I know vervain stops humans from falling under compulsion. If we could just find another herb that would protect vampires, then we could fill the water supply or…” she trailed off.

“There is no herb,” James said. “Vervain won’t work against his power. It may protect humans against any of the vampires Samuel will compel, but how long do you think that will last? Any job that can’t be carried out by one of his minions, I’m sure Samuel will simply perform himself. I can’t help you. And I can’t have either of you coming to my shop anymore. It’s too dangerous. I’m leaving here myself.”

“I understand,” I said heavily, glancing futilely at the shelves.

“Come on, vampire,” he said, unbolting the door. Cora and I stood on the threshold as James hurriedly began plucking jars and boxes off the shelves and placing them
on the table. He opened a small bottle filled with green liquid and gulped it town, then turned around when he realized I was still staring at him.

“Go!” James yelled. Cora and I fled. At the far end of the alley, I turned around. James was standing outside the store, throwing stems of vervain over the welcome mat. Even the store catering to monsters wouldn’t have me anymore.

In the short time we had been in James’s shop, the weather had changed completely. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, the air was cold and sharp, and the ground was coated in a fine layer of white powder. Cora, chilled to the bone, headed back to Bedford Square, while I continued to walk. The flurries had the effect of making London look like an etching on a holiday card. The air was redolent with the scent of roasted chestnuts, and rosy-cheeked people were marveling at the accumulation of snow along the curb. Men stopped on the streets to jovially slap one another on the backs in greeting. All around me London seemed at its finest, while all I felt was grief and despair.

Everyone had turned on us. Including the witches.
But I knew, deep down, that Lady Alice would want to avenge Mary Jane’s death as much as I did. The image of the terrible gold-tinged blood frothing at Samuel’s mouth sprung to my mind. I wouldn’t let Mary Jane’s death fuel evil. And if Lady Alice loved her as much as she said, she wouldn’t either. Making up my mind, I headed to Lady Alice’s house. Was it a suicide mission? Maybe. I knew she hated me. But she was also our only hope.

By the time I reached the mansion, my boots were soaked and my fingers felt raw from the cold. I tentatively pushed the iron gate, surprised when it swung open without force. She must not have sensed my presence, because walking down the path was Lady Alice herself, wearing a shapeless white robe that looked like a burial shroud.

“Stefan,” she said briefly. I could tell that behind her back she gripped a stake. She was ready for anything.

Silence hung in the air as we appraised each other. I knew she might attack at any second, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I wondered if she could hear it.

I imagined the stake coming toward my chest. I’d dodge, before trying to knock the stake out of her hand. I’d want to reason with her. But unbidden, another more terrifying image sprang to my mind. The wooden point would graze my chest and my fangs would appear. In an instant, I’d sink my teeth into Lady Alice’s neck and tear her throat out, stopping only when her body was drained. I
mashed my lips together and avoided her gaze. When I was provoked, I was no longer Stefan. I was a monster.

“I’m not here to fight,” I said, profoundly hoping it was the truth. “I just want to talk. I’ll agree to whatever terms make you feel comfortable.”

Lady Alice hesitated, and I could see that she was weighing her options.

“All right.” Lady Alice nodded. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Come with me.” She gestured for me to follow her down the winding walkway and to a gravel pathway behind the house. In its center was a single rosebush, bursting with red blossoms despite the weather. I followed her, matching her slow, careful steps.

“As good as gold,” she murmured as she neared the center. Once there, she turned to face me. The setting sun illuminated her face. “It’s funny—people say that all the time without really knowing what it means. But in Mary Jane’s case, I saw it with my own eyes. She truly was as good as gold. And now, that good has been turned evil. You broke vinculum, and I do blame you for what has happened. But I won’t kill you. Still, here’s what you need to know, Stefan,” Lady Alice said in a low voice, her eyes blazing. “I know you’ll ask me to help you, and I know you’ll say that you’re not asking for yourself. I know you’ll say that you’re asking for the greater good, and that London is in grave danger.”

“Yes,” I began, nodding. “But…”

“I know you’re going to say that you’re doing this for Mary Jane. That if we don’t do something, her life was in vain.”

“Y-y-yes,” I said hesitantly.

“But I can’t help you,” she said finally. “I’m not like you. I can’t just drink blood and be good as new. I need time to grieve. And I can’t work with people I don’t trust. Because you betrayed me, Stefan. You may not have meant to, but you gave me your word, and your word was false. Words have
power.
And when that power is undermined…” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s like when one of your kind gets staked. Not in the heart, so it doesn’t kill you. But it drains your Power.”

“I understand,” I said. “But this isn’t just about us. Now that Samuel has the power to compel vampires, he can control the whole city. Innocent lives will be lost. I won’t ask you to fight, but can’t you help us? Could you make more eleuthro?”

She sighed heavily. “No, Stefan. I can’t make eleuthro.” She reached toward the rose bush, touching one of the flowers. The petals fell to the earth like drops of blood on the thin white layer of snow. “Witches only have as much power as their coven. And right now, we’re all in mourning, all unsure how we’ll handle this…
situation.
We will band together again if we find one of our own in danger, but we will not help the likes of you. That much is
certain. And until I have the support of my coven, I don’t have any power at all.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Sorry doesn’t bring back Mary Jane. Now go. You’ve said enough. I can’t bear to hear any more.”

I nodded mutely and turned my back, shuffling down the hill.

“Hello, brother,” Damon said, startling me by bursting into my bedroom. He was wearing a suit with a black silk ascot tied around his neck. He dropped a similarly expensive-looking suit on the foot of my bed. It was later that evening, and I’d spent the last hour frowning into my notebook, desperately trying to come up with a plan. But I couldn’t. I could barely even write.
Words have power
, Lady Alice had said. Well, the blank page in front of me certainly didn’t. I was out of ideas.

But while I was miserable, Damon seemed positively overjoyed. He held a crystal glass in his hands. “Would you like a drink?”

I shook my head. “I have nothing to celebrate.”

“Who said you need a reason to celebrate?” He pushed the glass closer to me.

“You want to celebrate while Samuel’s probably rounding up a vampire army?” I concentrated on the dimly glowing lapis lazuli stone set in the ring on my finger so I could avoid his gaze. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Why? Because a witch yelled at you?” Damon asked pointedly. He sat in a chair in the corner and swirled his glass. “Cora told me you saw Lady Alice, and it didn’t go well. What did you expect? A hero’s welcome and a six-course dinner? We tried to use magic, and it didn’t work. So now we go to Plan D,” he said, downing his glass and holding it out to me in a mock toast.

“Plan drunk?” I asked wryly.

“That’s a good one!” he said enthusiastically. “But no. Plan
Damon
.”

“And what would that be?” I asked, turning to face him. “Is that ‘Kill all of London before Samuel does it first’? Is it ‘Compel your way into millions before running away’? Or is it ‘Go over to his side, because you always want to be the one to win’?”

“None of the above.” Damon shrugged. “But I will say it’s far better than moping, which is Plan Stefan.”

I glanced back at my notebook so he wouldn’t see the redness rise to my cheeks. Was that true? And why did I care? Damon liked to deliberately provoke, and no matter what, I walked into his trap.

Just then I heard a light knock on the door.

“Come in!” I called, grateful for the interruption.

Cora entered the room, the train of a red silk dress trailing on the floor behind her.

“Stefan, are you feeling better?” she said.

“I’m fine, I just had a headache. I still do,” I said.

“Well, I would too if I spent all my time moping,” Damon said. “Come on! I still haven’t told you my plan. My name has been cleared, we’re not dressed like paupers, and I think the only thing we can do is go out tonight. There are dozens of balls in honor of the Lord Mayor’s Parade. Why, there’s even one at White’s that Lord Ainsley is giving. Heard about it this morning at breakfast.”

“That isn’t a plan, it’s a party. You can go if you want, but I’m going to stay here and think.”

“It’s a
party
with people who know Samuel. We go, we gather information, and then we plan. Who knows? Maybe we can even prevent some attacks. It’s worth a try.”

Cora nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. After all, if we’re there, maybe we can find out if Samuel’s already starting to turn people into vampires. And maybe we will find information about what he’s doing with them.”

I glanced from Cora to Damon. Both were staring at me, willing me to say yes. What did I have to lose? The childish part of me wanted to stay in, but I realized they were right. At this point, the only thing we could do was gather as much information as possible.

“All right. I’ll be down in a moment,” I said.

Ten minutes later, courtesy of a compelled coach driver, we were in front of what looked like an average residence
in central London. It was a townhouse, with a lit gas lamp out front. The only sign that it was a nightclub was the stream of people constantly entering and exiting. To the left of the entrance, a man in a top hat sat on a high stool, scrutinizing a list of names.

“Welcome to White’s!” Damon said grandly, as if it were his own private establishment. I rolled my eyes as I helped Cora out of the carriage.

Upon hearing Damon’s voice, the man by the door looked up.

“Count de Sangue. Welcome back!” He bowed with a flourish and ushered us inside. We walked down a carpeted staircase and into the party.

“Just like old times.” Damon sighed happily, rubbing his hands together. The air was filled with the sound of instruments tuning up, ice cubes clinking in high-ball glasses, and chattering conversations punctuated by laughter. The crush of the crowd created an intoxicating aroma, and every thought in my brain was superseded by the sound of hundreds of heartbeats
th-thumping
under the din.

“Why, hello there!” A girl’s voice yanked me from my reverie. I whirled around to see a tall woman with dainty features and butterscotch-colored hair. I sniffed, taking in the burnt-coffee smell of her blood. Her slow, sleepy smile and slight waver indicated it would almost certainly
be tinged with rum, and I could imagine my fangs gently sliding against her skin until…

“Charlotte!” Damon said, licking his upper lip. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Charlotte.
I stepped back as though I’d been slapped. I’d been so entranced by the scent of her blood that I’d forgotten I knew her. She was the actress Damon had taken up with before the Jack the Ripper accusations. I hastily took a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray, downing it fast. Hopefully the alcohol would numb my craving for blood.

“Well, I can’t say the same of you, you brute,” Charlotte said. She pouted, but I could tell from the way her eyes danced that she was only putting on a display of anger. “Not only did you
disappear
, but you became a wanted criminal in the blink of an eye. Of course, I knew it wasn’t true. You only travel in the best circles, so you’d never go to that awful East End, even if you were a murderer.” She laughed. Her fingers grazed her neck. It was an unconscious gesture, but seeing it caused my pulse to pound.

“It really is rather funny, when you think about it. Me, in the East End, with prostitutes, when I could be here, with you on my arm.” Damon flashed her one of his charming half-smiles.

“It is, isn’t it?” Charlotte laughed again, but her eyes seemed hollow. Something about her was amiss, but I
couldn’t put my finger on it. I hadn’t known her well, but on the few occasions our paths had crossed, she’d always seemed flirtatious. Now, her statements were half a second too slow, as if she were struggling to remember her lines. She ran her finger along Damon’s collarbone. “Well, you’ll have to tell us all about life on the lam. How delightfully slum-worthy it must have been.”

“Oh, believe me, it was,” Damon said. “But more important, tell me about you. What have I missed?”

This
was Damon’s plan for the evening? To flirt his way back into society?

But Charlotte smiled, oblivious to me and my frustration as she turned all her womanly charms on Damon. “Well, I just opened a new play. It’s called
The Temptress
, and you can only imagine what my part is,” she said suggestively, arching a blond eyebrow.

“Perfect casting,” Damon said, smoothly taking Charlotte’s hand in his. But before he could kiss it, Charlotte snatched it away.

“You’ll have to get me a drink first,” she demanded. “You have a lot of apologizing to do for disappearing on me like that.”

“I’m at your service,” Damon said, wiggling his eyebrows.

I turned away, disgusted, even though I shouldn’t have been surprised. Damon’s reaction to death and destruction
was always to dance through the ashes. Instead of dwelling on it, I took in my surroundings. In the center of the room, the band struck up one of the current music hall favorites.

I stopped when I saw the curving staircase that led up to the hotel. Ordinarily, white-gloved butlers would be guarding the stairs to ensure partygoers without hotel keys didn’t slip past. Tonight, however, there were none. In fact, despite the bustling atmosphere, the evening seemed odd. Dancers were half a step behind the music, conversations sounded stilted, and hardly anyone had touched the sumptuous buffet table, laden with éclairs, oysters from the Atlantic, and cheeses and meats from France. But although there wasn’t anything on the buffet table that I wanted, it was strange that the other partygoers felt the same. Could they all be thirsting for blood?