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I pushed the door with all my might and heard the lock break, but the door itself barely cracked open.
Cora looked up in fear when she heard the commotion.
“It’s me, Stefan,” I whispered through the slim opening. Relief was evident on her face, and then I heard the clanking of chains. Cora was shackled to the wall, and it was impossible for her to stand completely upright. “I’m coming!” I hurled my weight against the door again.
“Violet brought me here,” Cora said miserably. “She brought me around the back, where a man took me and chained me up.”
“Stay there!” I instructed. “Damon, help get the door open. It’s just jammed,” I lied to Cora. I could sense something was holding the door shut. It wasn’t a lock—my vampire strength could pull through that. It was something stronger, more sinister. My stomach knotted as Damon joined me and we both shoved against the door with our hands. Still, it wouldn’t budge wider than a half inch.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Damon. No simple door should be a match for the two of us, even with my diet of animal blood.
Damon shook his head and picked up his crossbow. “I don’t know. We’ll help her later. He’ll be back soon.”
“Stefan, go. Help your brother,” Cora said, sliding back to the filthy floor in a heap. “He’s right. It won’t do any good if Samuel sees anything amiss. I’ll be fine.”
I gave Cora an encouraging smile before Damon and I retreated back into Samuel’s office. We jammed our bodies into the coat closet, not daring to speak. Damon had the crossbow at the ready. We weren’t particularly well hidden, and I knew we only had seconds to react when Samuel finally entered. The waiting was agony—and I could only imagine how hard it was for Cora. Who knew what torture she’d endured?
Suddenly, I heard someone whistling discordantly in the hallway. Damon glanced at me and nodded.
Samuel was here.
The door clicked open. I braced myself, listening for the twang of the wire as it was tripped, but nothing happened. Instead, Samuel stood absolutely still in the doorway, sniffing the air.
Quick as a flash, he reached into his boot to pull out a stake. Damon used that moment to burst from our hiding spot and release a vervain-soaked bolt from the crossbow. It landed in Samuel’s gut, and he fell to the ground in a heap.
I leaped to my feet and raced toward Samuel, careful to avoid the trip wire. He lay on the ground, the crossbow bolt deep in his stomach, his face a mask of rage as he reached to pull it out. Damon appeared by my side, standing over Samuel with a candle in his hand.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Damon said in a low voice. “And I knew revenge would be mine. I want you to burn before you get to hell,” Damon hissed, leaning down and allowing the flame to brush against the sleeve of Samuel’s shirt. The flames ripped through the starched white fabric. Samuel writhed in pain, but didn’t make a sound. For a second I wondered: Was he impervious to fire, too? But I could see a path of charred flesh where the fire had touched him. It just wasn’t enough to destroy him.
“Kill him!” I implored urgently as I rummaged through Damon’s rucksack for the hawthorn-tipped stake. I wanted to get Cora out of here as quickly as possible.
“Oh, I will, brother,” Damon cackled as I yanked the stake from the bag. “But first, I want to play a little game with Samuel. After all, he seems to love games,” Damon said, setting fire to the cuff of Samuel’s trouser leg. The flame sparked and danced up the hem of his pants. “Once you’re fully ablaze, I’ll let all of London know you were the Ripper. I have evidence. I have Cora, who’ll testify. I have the other girls from the Asylum. I’ll be a hero. And who knows, maybe I’ll even be the new London councilor,” Damon said, as he lit the other leg on fire.
“Damon, either I’m going to stake him or you will. But it’s time,” I said firmly. Damon ignored me and kept placing the candle to Samuel’s clothing.
“Damon, I’m going to stake him,” I warned, raising my arm high above my head, ready to drive the weapon into Samuel’s ancient flesh.
“What, you don’t have anything to say? And you were always so talkative,” Damon taunted. “Always so creative. Coming up with the Jack the Ripper plot, lying about Katherine … it’s a shame you’ve reached the end of your story,” Damon said, allowing the flame to brush Samuel’s neck.
I closed my eyes and, summoning all my strength, I plunged the stake toward Samuel.
All of a sudden, I heard a gunshot, then a shriek. I dropped the hawthorn stake in surprise. On the floor was Henry, a hole from the wooden bullet in his head, his eyes still wide open. Violet was crouched in the doorway, keening. Behind her, Cora stood with her hands to her mouth, looking on in horror.
Damon’s attention turned to Henry, a slight smile of satisfaction on his lips. Samuel was rolling around the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the flames consuming his body. “Kill him!” I yelled again as I picked up the stake and rushed toward Henry. If he wasn’t dead yet, he would be in seconds. I felt a searing sensation on my ankle—the hawthorn trip wire. Pain ran up my leg and through my body until it flooded my brain. The room swam in front of me.
“Cora!” I yelled. “Run!”
Cora took a step back. And that was when I saw it: two holes in her neck, as round and neat as shodding nails, still oozing blood. Could Violet have fed on her own sister?
“Run!” I yelled again, my voice ragged. I couldn’t have her standing near this room, amid traps that could go off at any moment. Whatever happened tonight, one thing was certain: Cora could not die.
Cora took off down the hallway, away from the fight. I stood above Henry, ready to stake him, when someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and flung me against the far wall. Violet leapt across the room and tried to wrestle me to the floor.
Having just fed, she was strong, but my age made me stronger. I pushed her back, pinning her to the floor. I watched in disgust as she writhed. How could she drink from her own sister? I may have turned Damon into a vampire, but I’d never hurt him intentionally. I just wanted us to be together, forever. Violet seemed to have lost any moral compass.
“Violet,” I whispered urgently, my face inches from hers. I remembered how in Ivinghoe, the only thing she had wanted was to die with a kiss. I wished that I could kiss her now and wake her from this nightmare, but I couldn’t. She was too far gone. All I could do was subdue her, and give Damon time to finish off Samuel and Henry. Our traps had served their purpose, and we’d severely wounded them both. Now all we had to do was use their weakness to our advantage.
“You hurt my brother, you answer to me!” Samuel’s voice jolted my attention away. The flames had gone out and although his skin was charred, he was already starting to heal. Samuel held Damon by his throat so tight that I knew one flick of his wrist could snap Damon’s neck. Sensing my distraction, Violet clawed at me, catching me off guard and flipping me onto my back.
