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"Y son has a good head on his shoulders,"
our Mayor Lockwood said grudgingly.
"A better head than yours," Father mumbled.
"Well . . . we can discuss vervain later. Honoria, you'll be in charge of making sure that we have a ready supply, and we can strongly encourage those we love to wear it. But for now, I want to discuss other ways we can find the vampires that walk among us," Jonathan Gilbert said excitedly, unfolding large sheets of paper onto the table. Mayor Lockwood put his bifocals on his nose and peered at the papers, which had complicated mechanical drawings on them.
"This here looks like a compass," Mayor Lockwood said finally, pointing to a complicated drawing.
"It is! But instead of finding north, it finds vampires," Jonathan said, barely containing his excitement. "I'm working on the prototype. It just needs a bit more fine-tuning. It's able to detect blood. The blood of others," he said meaningfully.
"Can I see that, Mr. Jonathan?" Cordelia asked.
Jonathan looked up, surprised, but handed her the papers. She shook her head.
"No," she said. "The prototype. " "Oh, ah, well, it's very rough," Jonathan said as he fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out a shiny metal object that looked more like a child's trinket than a tool for finding victims.
Cordelia turned the compass slowly in her hands. "It works?"
"Well . . . "--Jonathan shrugged--"it will work. "
"Here's what I propose," Father said, leaning back on his chair. "We arm ourselves with vervain. We work day and night to get the compass to work. And we make a plan. We set up a siege, and by month's end our town will be clear. " Father crossed his arms in satisfaction. One by one, every member of the group, including Cordelia, nodded their heads.
I shifted on the wooden chair, holding my hand against my neck. The attic was hot and sticky, and flies were buzzing in the rafters, as if it were the middle of July rather than the middle of September. I desperately needed a glass of water, and I felt like the room was going to collapse in on me. I needed to see Katherine again, to remind myself that she wasn't a monster. My breathing became shallow, and I felt that if I stayed here, I would say something I didn't mean.
"I think I'm feeling faint," I heard myself say, even though the words rang false even to my ears. Father looked at me sharply. I could tell he didn't believe me, but Honoria clucked out sympathetic noises.
Father cleared his throat. "I'll see my boy out," he announced to the room before following me down the rickety ladder.
"Stefan," Father said, grabbing my shoulder just as I opened the door that would lead back to a world I understood.
"What?" I gasped.
"Remember. Not a word of this to anyone. Even Damon. Not until he comes to his senses. Except I think his senses may be taken with our Katherine," Father muttered, half to himself as he let go of my arm. I stiffened at the mention of Katherine's name, but when I turned around, Father's back was toward me as he headed into the house.
I walked back through town, wishing I'd ridden Mezzanotte instead of coming in the carriage. Now I had no choice but to walk home. I turned to my left, deciding to cut through the forest. I simply couldn't interact with any more humans today.
Chapter 18
That night, Damon invited me to play cards with some of his soldier friends, who were camped out for the moment in Leestown, twenty miles away.
"I may not agree with them, but damn, can they play a good hand and drink a good pint," Damon said.
I'd found myself agreeing, eager to avoid Father and any questions about vampires. But by the time twilight rolled around and I hadn't seen any sign of Katherine or Emily, I wished that I hadn't agreed to accompany Damon. My mind was still jumbled, and I wanted a night with Katherine to reassure me that my desire was leading me in the right direction. I loved her, but the practical, sensible side of me was having trouble disobeying Father.
"Ready?" Damon asked, clad in his Confederate uniform, when he stopped by my bedroom at twilight.
I nodded. It was too late to say no.
"Good. " He grinned and clattered down the stairs. I glanced wistfully out the window toward the carriage house, then followed him.
"We're going out to the camp," Damon yelled as we passed by Father's study.
"Wait!" Father emerged from the study into the living room, several long branches filled with tiny, lilac-like purple flowers in his arms. Vervain. "Wear this," he commanded, tucking a sprig into each of our breast pockets.
"Y shouldn't have, Father," Damon said
ou tersely, as he plucked the sprig out of his pocket and shoved it into his breeches pocket.
