The Ripper (Page 50)

"I know who I am, Damon," I said calmly. It was a variation of the same argument we always had, but this time, I wasn’t going to fight. I could see the train chugging into the station. We had to be careful. I was sure the entire parish was looking for us, and if we weren’t ready to compel at a moment’s notice, we could be caught unaware. "I’m your brother."

"Yes," Damon said after a beat.

It wasn’t anywhere close to an apology, but I sensed something between us shift. If we wanted to find Samuel, we needed to work together.

Maybe fighting Samuel was our only chance to stop the bloodshed that fol owed us. I had to believe it. I had to believe in something.

"Did you know that Samuel was a vampire?" I asked. It was a smal question, but one I’d wondered in my feverish sleep. Had Damon voluntarily found a vampire society in London?

"No, I didn’t know." Damon shook his head, his dark eyes glinting in anger. "But I do know that I wil never be made a fool of again. And I also know that Samuel’s about to get a lesson he’l never forget."

"What if he’s an Original?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.

I cast my eyes to the sky, hoping that if there was light and goodness anywhere in the world, that Oliver was somewhere safe, in a place where he could do al the hunting he wanted.

"’What if he’s an Original?’" Damon mocked, pul ing me out of my reverie. "What does it matter? The only thing that matters is strength and determination. The Salvatore way," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ready?" he asked, turning to Cora with a hint of a spark in his eye.

With Damon, it was impossible to tel what he was thinking.

"Al aboard!" the conductor said, waving us on. I tried not to imagine what he must think of the three of us: Damon with his ripped shirt; me with my chest wound oozing through my shirt; and Cora, stil wearing her ever-present scarf tied in a dainty bow around her neck, despite her bloodstained bodice.

"Tickets?" the conductor asked suspiciously.

Damon smiled, his shoulders relaxing, clearly in his element.

"London. You’ve already seen our tickets, so you’l escort us to a first-class cabin. We won’t see you for the rest of the trip. As far as you or anyone else is concerned, we’re not there."

"Yes, sir, of course," the conductor said, nodding and ushering us through a narrow path onto the train.

I stared out the window as the verdant greenery rushed by. I wondered what was waiting for us in London. Would Samuel go on another kil ing spree? Did Violet real y go with him wil ingly, or had she simply been bewildered after her transformation? And could Damon and I ever real y work together?

Al I knew was we were two revenge-seeking vampires, and we were about to bring on Samuel’s destruction – no matter what the cost might be.

Epilogue

T wenty years ago – almost a lifetime ago – my brother and I escaped Mystic Falls on a train headed for New Orleans. We were baby vampires ourselves then. Damon was confused and searching, and I was blood-drunk and ready for action.

Now our roles had reversed. And yet, whether bound by a shared history or loyalty or even by blood – that mysterious, vexing, life-giving –

substance – we were together.

We didn’t trust each other. We didn’t like each other. But we were each other, reflecting our shadow, secret selves in the other’s identity. We were running from a small-town mob that was after me, toward an entire city that believed Damon to be the deadliest murderer in history. We were in it together.

And we deserved each other.

As much as I tried to hide it, I had a deadly dark side. And I saw, in Damon’s concerned glances toward Cora and the gentle way he’d cradled Oliver’s body as he brought him to me for burial, that Damon had a deeply feeling, human side. But could the two ever exist in tandem? And how many more humans would be killed before we could live in peace as vampires?

I didn’t know the answer. But I knew there would be many more deaths. All I could hope was that they wouldn’t be by my own hand. . . .