The clicking was now a steady, insistent rattle --and it seemed to be coming directly from Jonathan's hand. Then, with my mother's wings stretched wide behind him, Jonathan Gilbert consulted the clicking object in his palm.
My blood ran cold. The compass. Jonathan had created a compass that, rather than pointing north, identified vampires.
Suddenly, Jonathan looked up. His eyes locked on Damon and me instantly.
"Demon!" He let out an unholy shriek and pointed in our direction.
"I think he means us, brother," Damon said with a short laugh.