The Compelled (Page 33)

“It was my fault,” I said final y. “I should have thought of what could have gone wrong. I should have kil ed Seaver first. If I’d just stuck with the plan, Samuel would have been trapped.” I sighed heavily.

“Stop it!” Cora snapped. “Do you know how often you blame yourself? Damon was in trouble, and he needed your help. It’s not your fault, and the more you say it, the more you’l believe it. The more I’ll believe it. Just…stop. Al right?”

“Al right,” I echoed. But deep down, I knew I’d done it because I had wanted to kil Samuel. I’d wanted to feel my stake puncturing his chest. But I didn’t explain that to Cora. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment in her eyes.

Luckily, just then Damon walked down the curved staircase, wearing a blue smoking jacket trimmed in white fur. “What’s al the racket?”

“The Ripper made the papers again,” I said dryly, smoothing the broadsheet and passing it to Damon.

He perched on the end of the low-slung cherrywood chair in the corner. Soon, a smile spread across his face as he shoved the paper aside.

“Wel , looks like I’l be able to reintroduce myself to society. It’l be nice to be a free man after being a wanted man for so long. I’m ready to resume my life of luxury.” I stared at my brother. Could he possibly be serious?

“What about Samuel?” I asked.

“What about Samuel?” Damon echoed, perfectly mocking my inflection. “You know, brother, I was thinking last night that maybe you’ve been right al along. Maybe we do leave the country with our tails between our legs. We had a plan. We had Power. We had witches. And we had numbers on our side. And yet, Samuel and his Asylum goon overtook us.”

“You could have warned us he was bringing reinforcements.”

reinforcements.”

“I didn’t know. Seaver must have been tailing us. And why did it matter? You were supposed to kil him if he came. I saw you when I was fighting with Samuel. You were right behind him. You could have stabbed him in the back, then tried to help me. Ever think of that, brother?”

“Shut up!” Cora yel ed as she shot to her feet and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “I won’t listen to you two bicker! If this continues, I’l leave,” she said, her eyes flashing.

Damon and I reflexively looked at Cora, then at each other. If Cora left, we’d be alone together. And that wouldn’t work. Cora was like a mediator: We needed her to work effectively. If she wasn’t there, either we’d argue our way to inaction, or our al iance would self-destruct.

“Don’t leave,” I said to Cora. “But I think we can al agree we need a new perspective on the situation. We al want to kil Samuel. But we don’t know how to do that. I think we should talk to James and see what he thinks. We can’t do this alone.”

“And what if James decides he’s done with vampires and stakes you? I’ve known him a long time. He’s fickle,” Damon countered.

“I’m wil ing to take the risk,” I said quietly.

“Are you?” Damon asked. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. You don’t act, and that’s dangerous.

And until you stop torturing yourself with your conscience, we can’t work together.”

“I don’t think you can blame me for thinking too much based on what happened last night. And that’s why I need to see James. To find out how strong Samuel real y is.

Maybe James wil know of a weakness in his new powers.”

“Whatever you say. I’m too hungry to fight. Go do your detective work. I’l be breakfasting at Bailey’s Hotel. I can’t possibly think until I’ve had a good meal.” I blanched, knowing that Damon’s idea of a good meal meant an attractive woman. “Fine.”

It was the same old story: When Damon was near death, he was my brother, the man I’d do anything for—including risking my own life. But when he was wel , his barrage of caustic comments chipped away at my goodwil .

As soon as he left, Cora turned to face me. A smal smile played on her lips.

“What?” I asked, ready for another round of insults.

“Nothing real y.” She shook her head. “It’s just that together, you and Damon complete each other. You think, and he’s al about action. But instead of appreciating what the other has, you fight about it.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk about our brotherly relationship. I wanted to figure out if there was any way to stop Samuel. But I was worried it was impossible. Not without a force greater than ourselves.

“Let’s see James,” I said gruffly.

Cora nodded, and together we walked out of the house and made our way to James’s Emporium. The sun was shining brightly, and the cold snap had receded. In fact, men were walking the streets with their jackets over their arms, and people were sunning themselves on the steps of Trafalgar Square. Stil , everywhere we walked, we heard snatches of conversation:

“Kil ed in her bed…”

“Heart torn out as if she were attacked by an animal…”

“I’m tel ing you, no one is safe.”

“What’s America like?” Cora asked quietly as we zigzagged our way through the crowded sidewalks of Fleet Street.

“Big,” I said, knowing that Cora was mostly asking to distract me from the chatter around us. “You’d like it.” I thought of Cora, stepping off a steamer boat and into a world where she wouldn’t be assaulted by memories of Violet on a daily basis. I thought of the Irish neighborhoods that had sprung up in Boston and New York and San Francisco. She’d definitely find a home.