The Compelled (Page 42)

I cocked my head, trying to listen for any sound within the house. But there was nothing beyond hushed murmurs, beating heartbeats, and clinking dishes—the sounds of a house that had no idea what was going on within its very wal s.

I rose to my knees and peeked through the window into what appeared to be a smal library. Shelves of books lined the room, two leather club chairs were set up so they faced each other, and a looking glass in the far corner of the room reflected my expression: I was pale with red veins visible under my skin.

Suddenly I heard a shriek, then racing footsteps. Soon, Cora came into view. She dove out of the window, getting a cut on her upper arm in the process, and fel on top of me.

“Did you do it?” Damon asked roughly.

Cora nodded. “We need to go. Get me out of here!” Damon picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and ran away from the house at vampire speed. I tried to fol ow, but was pul ed back by one of the guards who’d rushed around to the back of the house. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, causing five more guards to race over, pointing rifles at me.

And then, one of them turned and saw the prone body of the guard Damon had knocked unconscious. He was lying perfectly stil , and from a distance, he looked like a murder victim.

“Harry is dead!” the guard screamed. “We’re under attack!” A shot rang out.

I turned to face the circle of guards and bared my fangs, anything to buy Damon and Cora a few more minutes to escape. A ripple of panic spread through the group.

“Fire!” One of the guards shot his gun, and I bolted. A bul et grazed my shoulder as I ran at vampire speed into the darkness. Behind me, I could hear a shout: “Stop that man!” But they were too late.

14

I fled down the streets, listening for the sound of Cora’s heart. I could hear it, fast and jerky, and fol owed it until I found the source. Damon and Cora were sitting underneath the awning of a bakery, which provided little protection from the now pelting rain. Cora was lying in Damon’s lap, sobbing.

“What happened?” I demanded. “Is she al right?”

“Cora is. But the compel ed vampire wasn’t so lucky.

Cora did a great job.”

I gingerly rubbed Cora’s back. She was crying into Damon’s shirt and seemed oblivious to my presence.

“Cora, it’s al right,” I said. “You did exactly what we wanted.”

Cora turned and stared at me, tears running down her cheeks. Her expression looked as broken and terrified as it had after she kil ed Violet.

“Cora, you did everything you were supposed to. You’re safe. Now, what happened?” I asked, using my shirtsleeve to wipe the tears rol ing down her cheeks.

“I kil ed the vampire,” she said in a low, monotone voice.

“I took the stake and I just reached back and stabbed her in the heart. And she shrieked, and then her whole body began shriveling…it was awful.”

“She was just a vampire. She’d have kil ed you if given half a chance,” Damon said, clearly uncomfortable with playing the role of comforter.

“Like Violet was just a vampire?” Cora asked. “Don’t you see? I’m a kil er now. And not just in self-defense, like it was with Violet. I went into that house for one reason, and one reason only. To kil that woman. And what was the point? Samuel’s stil on the loose. What I did just seems so stupid right now.” She shook her head angrily.

“It wasn’t stupid, it was necessary,” Damon said.

I nodded; I understood why Cora was so upset. There was something about that first kil that changes you, but it’s how easy it is to murder again that’s truly terrifying. As if the first time hadn’t been just a fluke, but something you’d secretly enjoyed. I moved closer to Cora, putting my arm around her in what I hoped was a comforting embrace.

She pul ed away from me and rose to her feet. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you. I just need some time.” She turned and raced down the al ey.

“Cora!” I cal ed into the darkness.

“Don’t.” Damon shook his head.

“We can’t just have her running around the city when there are vampires everywhere. I’l go get her.”

“She needs some time, brother. And we need to turn around, go back to the prime minister’s house, and kil Samuel. Finish what we started.”

Just as I was about to answer, I heard the sound of footsteps, far too quick to be human, passing by the al ey.

“Bloody disaster. Must have been those damned Salvatore brothers again. Meddling was not part of our deal. Al bets are off now. I’l kil them both with my bare hands.”

“Quite right, Mortimer,” Lord Ainsley said.

“Can I have the girl?” Mol y asked.

“Have the girl,” Samuel spat. “She’s caused me nothing but trouble. Her blood is spoiled for me.” I turned to Damon. Without a word, he nodded to me, and we took off into the night, fol owing the sound of Samuel’s conversation. Soon, I realized, we were headed down to the warehouses on the water.

“A kil er always comes back to the scene of a crime,” Damon said as we walked toward the low, squat wooden buildings where Samuel had first begun his reign of terror.

We were too far back, keeping a safe distance, to know which warehouse they’d gone into. But I knew it would only be a matter of time before we found them.

Damon cocked his head and sniffed the air. “Hold on,” he said. “Always best to power up before a fight.” With that, he turned and sped off in the direction of several drunken revelers. Of course. Damon was going to drain the blood of some degenerate. I felt a surge in my veins and wondered if I, too, should do the same. Damon was right: Wasn’t feeding just one way to prepare for the battle to come? But Samuel had already turned me into more of a monster than I’d been in twenty years, and I wasn’t about to let him turn me into something worse.