The Compelled (Page 12)

“Vampires just don’t think about details,” Jemima

“Vampires just don’t think about details,” Jemima muttered. “Gus and Mary Jane, can you do a simple circle spel when we get to the Bridge? Don’t want any mortals getting caught in the ruckus.”

“Thank you,” I said meaningful y, locking eyes with Jemima.

Jemima didn’t respond, but the corners of her mouth twisted into a smal smile.

And with al the witches on board, we streamed toward the door, ready to free my brother.

“Damon, I’m coming,” I whispered under my breath. But the only response was the ominous sound of rain pelting the roof.

5

Together, stakes concealed under our clothing, our motley group traipsed through the back al eys of London’s East End. What had been a cloudy day had turned into a bitterly cold and rainy evening. Cora shivered beside me.

As we walked past a public house where a few men hunched over their pints of ale, Mary Jane hurried to catch up with me. I forced myself to take slow, measured steps, but it was hard to walk at human speed with the eleuthro surging through my veins. Al of my senses were heightened, and I breathed in the stench of rotting garbage in the gutter. As pungent as the scent was, it was a poor distraction from the sound of blood pumping around me.

While it may have taken the edge off my nerves, the eleuthro hadn’t assuaged my craving. If anything, it had intensified it.

“The first rule we have when performing magic is to not draw any attention to ourselves,” Mary Jane said, pul ing me back to the conversation. I hadn’t been paying attention.

I was so distracted by the thought of blood that I could almost taste it on my tongue. I knew it was simply because we were in the East End, which was packed with residents.

The more humans, the greater concentration of blood. That was one of the many reasons I’d preferred my life in a quaint vil age where neighbors were few and far between. It was easier to ignore the cal of blood.

“I was saying, we try to blend in to our surroundings,” Mary Jane said patiently, when she saw I wasn’t exactly focused. “The second rule is, no magic in public, unless we’re threatened by death. Of course, we’l use magic to free your brother, but we must maintain a low profile. If any one of us is exposed, we’re immediately kicked out of the house. It’s Jemima’s rule, and she means it. The third rule is no talking about magic, for the same reason as not performing it.”

“Can al of you do the same magic?” Cora asked.

“Not quite.” Mary Jane wrinkled her forehead in concentration. “Some are good at spel s, others more at finding herbs, and I’m good with animals. I suppose we al work better when we’re together. We protect one another.

Anyway, as soon as Jemima and I realized we were different, we ran away from the orphanage and didn’t look back. Once we al found one another, we didn’t need to wait around for someone to adopt us. Adoptions never seemed to happen. People would always come in and say we were precious, or say we were special, but then they never came back to bring us home,” Mary Jane said sadly. “That’s why it was better for us to form our own family.”

“Shh!” Jemima hissed, whirling around. She took the hood of my cloak and pul ed it over my head. “Try to be inconspicuous, please.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Rule number four. We stick together. Once we get there, there’s no running off, and there’s no leaving anyone behind, even if it’s dangerous. Are we clear?” I nodded.

We walked onto the pier. The Thames was crowded with cargo ships ready to make their early morning deliveries at ports dotting the country, while smal er passenger ships weaved around them.

“We’l go by river,” Jemima decided, nodding to a smal skiff floating in the water. The name Goodspeed was written on its side. I decided to take that as a good sign. “A boat gives us an automatic escape route. Climb on,” she said grandly as we al jumped over the edge and into our stolen boat.

As Bil y pushed the Goodspeed away from the dock, I looked toward the inky horizon. The skiff was moving of its own volition, cutting a V-shaped path through the water.

I could sense Jemima’s eyes on the back of my neck. I turned around. Sure enough, she was staring at me, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“What?” I asked irritably. I had a sense she knew more than she was letting on.

“Just trying to figure out how hungry you are, vampire.”

“I fed on a squirrel today. I’m not thinking of drinking human blood, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Not that kind of hunger,” Jemima said cryptical y. She nodded toward something behind me and I whirled around, seeing the imposing Tower Bridge now only a hundred feet in front of us. It stood several stories off the ground, and was surrounded by wooden scaffolding. The deck of the bridge came to an abrupt end a quarter of the way across the river; across the Thames, a similar setup was in place.

A gap of forty feet separating the two structures. I was surprised that no watchmen were guarding the area.

Instead, al was silent, except for the sound of ragged breathing. It was Damon. It had to be.

“Pul over to the dock!” I cal ed. Immediately, without anyone steering, the skiff turned toward the nearest pier. I jumped onto the dock before the boat stopped. Clutching my stake to my side, I ran toward the bridge. The closer I got, the more I was sure I was being watched.

I glanced up and gasped.

Instead of seeing Damon, I saw Samuel clinging like a spider to the underside of the bridge. He jumped down on top of me, throwing me off balance. I landed on my back with a thud.