The Compelled (Page 13)

“And so we meet again,” Samuel said, standing over me, his face a blank mask that betrayed no emotion. Our eyes locked, and for a fraction of a second it was as if time stood stil . Then, Violet emerged from behind a pil ar, smiling maniacal y, her white fangs glittering. Violet was a completely different creature than the frightened girl I’d rescued a month earlier. In a white fur coat with her red curls piled on top of her head and her lips painted a deep crimson, she looked like a painting come to life. She wasn’t the innocent Irish barmaid I’d met at the Ten Bel s Tavern.

She wasn’t the giddy show-off who’d blushed and twirled when I’d given her a new dress at Harrods. And she certainly wasn’t the human girl who’d looked at me with tears in her eyes as she transitioned into a vampire, begging me to kil her rather than al ow her to live a life of destruction. That Violet was dead. The fiend in front of me was al vampire.

Samuel shifted, and I used the momentary movement to spring to my feet and lunge, surprised at how fast the eleuthro had made me. Grabbing his shoulders, I wrestled him to the ground. Samuel twisted free and I hurled myself at him again, smiling when his head smacked against the concrete bridge with a satisfying crack.

“Stefan!”

I whipped my head around at the sound of my name.

Damon was fixed to the scaffolding by vervain-soaked ropes as if he were a sacrificial figure primed for an ancient ritual. He exhaled in wet gasps, and blood-tinged foam frothed at the corners of his mouth. The veins around his temples were bulging and were an unnatural bright blue color. He looked minutes away from death.

“Help him!” I cal ed toward the witches. I couldn’t save him right now, not with Samuel here and Damon covered in vervain. Bil y raced past me with a knife held aloft, ready to cut Damon loose from the ropes that bound him.

I gripped my stake and reared back, about to strike, when suddenly I was hit from behind. Violet must have caught up with us. I landed on my chest, my body only mil imeters away from fal ing on the stake. I struggled to a sitting position, but Violet threw herself on top of me, pinning my shoulders to the ground as she groped for the stake.

I heard a splash. Samuel had thrown Vivian and Gus into the cold water. They were sputtering while Jemima and Mary Jane were fighting Samuel off with the repel spel . It was almost working. But not wel enough.

I knew Violet was out for blood, and if she couldn’t get mine, she’d think nothing of taking her sister’s. With a surge of effort, I wriggled out of Violet’s hold and managed to pin her hands to the ground above her shoulders. “Samuel wil die tonight. I’l make sure of it. But I’m giving you one last chance,” I said, searching for any trace of humanity in her bloodshot eyes. But al Violet did was laugh in response.

Just then, I saw Cora racing toward us, far faster than a normal human could move. “Cora, get away!” I shouted.

Violet was strong and I doubted that Cora would come close to matching her, even aided by eleuthro.

“No. Violet, listen to me,” she said, throwing her arms around her sister’s waist. “I’m your sister. I know you. And I know you have a chance for redemption. Please, stop what you’re doing and take it.” Cora’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Or else I’l kil you myself.” At this, Violet stopped writhing and turned to face her sister.

“Not if I kil you first.” Violet growled as she lunged toward Cora, her fangs dangerously close to her sister’s throat. Her eyes were large and red, and in that moment, she was a vampire intent only on her kil —even though her prey was her own flesh and blood. I clutched the wooden stake in one hand as I grabbed her from behind and threw her on her back.

I was about to bring the weapon down when another stake sliced through the air and plunged into the rich fabric of Violet’s coat. Violet unleashed an agonized shriek before fal ing limp. Her skin quickly turned ashen and veiny, her mouth frozen as if gasping for air. She was dead.

Cora sat back, a hand to her lips in shock. She was staring, unblinking, at the body of her sister. The sister she had just kil ed.

Not able to take even a moment to grieve Violet’s tragic, if necessary, death, I turned to aid Mary Jane and Jemima in fighting off Samuel. This fight wasn’t over.

But Samuel was no longer standing with the witches.

Instead, he was high above, teetering on the edge of the bridge. Before I could begin to scramble up the scaffolding, he dove into the water, as graceful y as a gul swooping down to catch a fish. A splash, and Samuel was in the middle of the Thames, arms stroking toward the opposite bank.

I blinked in disbelief. The repel spel Mary Jane and Jemima had used was working—Samuel had run away.

Stil , I didn’t feel victorious that he’d retreated from the fight.

Samuel must have realized he was outnumbered and didn’t stand a chance against us. But although we may have won this battle, Samuel was preparing for war. At least we saved Damon, I thought as I hurried over to where Jemima was inspecting his injuries.

“Brother.” Damon nodded. Angry burn marks circling his wrists oozed blood; his skin was pockmarked with burns, scrapes, cuts, and dirt; his lips were cracked; and one of his eyes was swol en shut. He looked in worse shape than he had when he’d been beaten, starved, and bitten by al igators at Gal agher’s Circus in New Orleans. He needed blood—a lot of it.

My heart thudded in my chest as our eyes met. I’d saved his life. So why did I have nothing to say?

“Go feed,” I said roughly. Seeing him so weak shook me. I knew that if we’d waited only an hour longer, chances are he’d have been dead. And that was a possibility I wouldn’t let myself think about. “You’l find some victims further down the pier.”