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“Of course. Beatrice,” Damon said in an exaggerated show of politeness. “You will forgive me, but in this light, you looked like Sarah de Haviland.”
“The actress?” Color rose in the girl’s chipmunklike cheeks. “Oh, I’m not, but she is inside, if you’d like me to get her. Or maybe you’d enjoy getting to know me just as well?” she asked boldly.
Damon winked, acting as if he and Beatrice were the only people in the world. I watched, transfixed. Damon had more tricks up his sleeve than simple compulsion.
“I’d love to get to know you. But first, let’s play a little game. I want to play a prank on my friend Henry, who’s inside right now. Will you do me a favor? Flirt with him, and get him to come outside with you? But make sure you don’t mention me—I want it to be a surprise.”
Beatrice smiled, revealing an unfortunate crooked incisor. “I love surprises!” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll get him right away.”
“Terrific. And once I return to the party, I’d be honored if you’d dance with me,” Damon said, taking Beatrice’s hand and giving it a kiss. She blushed even more deeply and quickly turned away, eager to do Damon’s bidding.
“Oh, and Beatrice?” Damon called.
“Yes?” The girl whirled around.
“My favorite dance is the waltz,” he said with a wink. “Remember that.” Beatrice practically skipped back into the estate.
“So now what’s the plan?” I asked impatiently. I’d last encountered Henry during our battle atop the train, and I had no desire ever to see him again.
“I guess you’ll find out,” Damon said, his fingers twitching as if he were craving a fight. I watched him nervously. Part of me wanted to tell him I wanted nothing to do with this half-baked scheme, wish him luck and then walk away. But I couldn’t. At this point, there was no turning back.
Before I could second-guess my commitment to Damon, Henry and Beatrice stumbled outside. Henry was trying to pull Beatrice in for a kiss. His red hair was neatly slicked back, but his shirt was coming untucked, a sign that he’d been enjoying the party. When I’d first met him, I imagined him to be eighteen, an oversize schoolboy on the lookout for fun. Knowing his true nature made his youthful appearance all the more disconcerting.
“Come on, sweetheart, just a little taste,” Henry said to Beatrice, oblivious to our presence.
Beatrice just laughed. “Sorry, my dance card for tonight is already full,” she teased as she slipped back into the party, giving Damon a parting flirtatious smile.
Just then, Damon flew toward Henry at vampire speed. He grabbed Henry by his broad shoulders and shoved him against the wall of what seemed to be an abandoned stable. Henry writhed in Damon’s grasp, his fangs growing and flashing in the moonlight.
“I need a stake!” Damon growled. I grabbed the first branch I could find on the ground and cracked it over my knee. It was willow, not nearly as substantial as I’d hoped, but it would do. It would have to do.
I charged toward them, the stake in my hand. In my mind’s eye, I remembered the way Henry had charged toward me during our bloody fight on board the train to Ivinghoe. I remembered the proprietary way he’d allowed his hands to roam down Violet’s curves during a party at the warehouse. I remembered the way he’d eagerly clapped Damon’s back at a park picnic, as though they were nothing but loyal friends. He had betrayed us.
“This ends now,” I hissed, holding the stake inches from the snow-white shirt that covered Henry’s chest. I imagined what the fabric would look like, pierced by the willow branch and stained with Henry’s blood. I’d never really staked a vampire before. At Gallagher’s circus, I’d once been forced to run a vervain-laced stick through Damon, but I’d deliberately missed his heart. This was different.
“Don’t kill him yet,” Damon said, wrapping his fingers around the branch. “He needs to talk first.”
I held the stake out toward Damon. It may have been my battle, but it was my brother’s war, and I wouldn’t stand in his way.
“I don’t talk to trash,” Henry said petulantly. Instantly, Damon launched the branch forward and pierced Henry’s throat. Blood bubbled at his throat, but the wound quickly healed when Damon removed the stick. Henry must have fed recently.
“You disgust me,” Damon spat.
“Well, I can assure you the feeling’s mutual,” Henry gurgled, hate evident in his eyes. “And you wanted me to talk, so I’ll talk. You and your brother are both stupid and impulsive, and have no idea who you’re facing. Is that what you wanted to discuss?” He smiled as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood off his neck. An owl hooted in the distance. Where were Samuel’s bodyguards? Could this be a trap?
As I was about to voice my fears, Henry twisted out of Damon’s grasp.
“You think you can kill me? That’s rich,” he said as he smiled at us. “You boys will try anything, won’t you? It’s the American way, I suppose.” He circled around us like a dog, sniffing a stranger that crossed his path. I watched every step, my entire being ready to attack, should it be necessary. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Although I think, in your case, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try and die again’ might be a bit more accurate.” Henry chuckled at his own joke.
“What does Samuel have to do with Katherine?” Damon asked, his voice low. I could see him struggling to control his temper. I wanted nothing more than to pick up where he left off and fight Henry to the death.
But Henry continued, unconcerned. “It is unfair to be hunted without knowing why, isn’t it? After all, it’s so much more enjoyable if your victims can take some time to ruminate on their choices. So, why do my brother and I hate you?” He paused and pretended to think. “Well, for one, you two are awfully pushy. In this country, we value people who respect our social rules. And that does not include elbowing one’s way in with compulsion and lies. So there’s that.”
“What about Katherine?” I interrupted.
“Katherine,” Henry said, chuckling to himself. “Well, Katherine’s a category unto herself. One of a kind. The type of girl you see once and remember forever. Which is why my brother can’t forgive either of you for killing her.”
“I didn’t…” Damon sputtered.
