The Ripper (Page 46)

"You took my brother!" he shrieked, pummeling his feet into my back. I struggled against his grip. Emma was crying loudly now, tears streaming down her face.

"Fiend! You shal die!" George roared, lunging toward me in the darkness.

"It wasn’t me!" I yel ed futilely. I shrugged Luke off my back. He fel to the floor with a sickening thump, and I used the moment George turned to tend to him to hurry out of the house and into the darkness, confident my vampire senses would give me a head start. But I knew I didn’t have much time. George would run to a neighboring farm for help, and soon there’d be an entire mob looking for me.

But right now, I couldn’t worry about that. Oliver was kidnapped. And a vampire was on the loose. I’d been set up, just like I had when Martha had been found in the al ey behind the Ten Bel s. Fear flooded my body as I realized the connection. Oliver had been taken for a reason, and I’d left Violet unattended and vulnerable. He was going to get to her and force the choice she’d fought so hard against. Oliver would be the sacrificial lamb.

I was just a pawn in my brother’s game, and this time, he was truly playing for blood.

"Damon!" I yel ed again into the darkness. I sniffed the air, feeling the urge to retch when I smel ed the familiar iron scent al around, enveloping me. "Damon!" My feet flew toward my cabin, and I pushed against the door with al my might.

I blinked in horror.

In the center of the floor was Violet, leaning down over Oliver, taking large sips from a gaping wound on his neck. Blood was trickling onto the floor in a dark, deep pool.

"Oliver!" I cal ed helplessly. Violet turned around, her newly formed fangs glistening with blood, a blank expression on her face. She leaned down, burying her face back in Oliver’s neck.

"No!" I lunged toward them and attempted to grab Oliver from her grasp. The little boy’s body was limp and lifeless, and I couldn’t hear a heartbeat. But his tiny body wasn’t entirely drained of blood. Not yet. Violet pul ed him away from my hands and brought his neck to her lips.

Just then, I heard the door click shut. I turned, ready to fight my brother.

Only it wasn’t Damon. Framed in the doorway was Samuel, his hair blond and lionlike around his face, his white shirt and tan trousers impeccably pressed. I blinked. So Samuel was one of Damon’s foot soldiers as wel . Of course. I felt the hatred for my brother deepening.

"Where is he?" I growled, my hands flexing into fists. I would make Samuel pay, but first, I needed him to lead me to Damon.

"So this is your country estate, Stefan," Samuel said, unwinding his bow tie and draping it over the back of a chair and sitting down as if he were paying a simple social cal .

"Where’s Damon?" I repeated.

"I don’t know." Samuel shrugged, crossing one leg over his knee and leaning back on his chair. "And I don’t care. I came here looking for you.

Our time in London was so rushed, I felt that you hardly got to know me at al ," he said, arching a blond eyebrow.

"You’re not here for Damon?"

"Your brother?" he asked lazily, licking his lips. "Not hardly. As I said, I have no idea where he is. Nor do I care. What real y matters is where people think Damon is," Samuel said, a smal smile playing on his lips.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my head spinning. I couldn’t stop staring at the stone on his necklace, and the more I stared at it, the more bewitched I felt by it.

"I mean that Damon . . . or, I’m sorry, Count DeSangue, may soon have another soubriquet. I hope he likes the sound of ‘Jack the Ripper.’" Samuel rose and stalked toward Violet, who was stil crouched over Oliver. She seemed unsure whether to pe back in and feed again. Samuel stood above them, and for a second, I wondered if Samuel would snap Violet’s neck, too, simply to show his power. But he didn’t. Instead, his hand rested gently on the top of Violet’s head.

"I think you could be useful," he mused to himself. "Yes, I think you have what it takes. Hunger, certainly," he said as Violet lowered her head to drink as if in a trance. Then he turned toward me.

"Where’s Damon?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Is he . . ."

"Dead?" Samuel let out a harsh laugh that sounded like a bark. "What would possibly be the fun in that? I can promise you, he’s not dead. I came up with another plan for him. Since I know how much he craves the spotlight, I found a way for him to be splashed al over the London papers.

He’s about to be known as London’s most notorious kil er. They’re receiving an eyewitness sketch of him as we speak. And that’s just the beginning. I think he’l like that, don’t you?"

"You’re the Ripper," I realized, everything clicking into place. Samuel had murdered Mary Ann and attacked Martha. And Samuel intended to frame Damon for the murders. Which meant that Samuel had written the warning message in the park.

I stepped back, my body slamming against the wal . I’d cornered myself.

"I want to destroy Damon. And death would be far too easy," Samuel hissed, stepping up to me and laying one hand on each shoulder. "So I wil make him pay first. I’l take him away from the London society he loves so much and ruin the image he enjoys maintaining. That was the plan, and that’s what shal be carried out," Samuel explained, his face now inches away from mine. "When you came along, I didn’t have quite as much time to plot your punishment. But I’m quite pleased by what I came up with. I ruined the family you loved so much and blamed it on you. I got your girl to come to the dark side . . . I think I did rather wel ," Samuel said, smiling.

"Why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?" I asked, trying to placate him by not struggling. My mind was whirling. I could just hear the sound of shouting in the distance, and knew it wouldn’t be long before an angry mob surrounded the cabin.