‘‘Shhh, that’s enough,” I said, pulling my arm away and hoisting her into a sitting position.
Just then, I saw a shadow hulking behind us. I whirled around, fear icing my veins. Brick buildings surrounded the alley, boxing us in.
“Who goes there?” I asked, my voice echoing off the walls of the alley.
Then, I heard a long, low, all-too-familiar laugh, and Damon strolled around the corner, a lit cigar in his mouth.
“Saving the day again,” he said, a bemused grin on his face. He dropped the cigar on the ground, and the ashes glinted in the darkness. Next to me, the girl stirred, moaning and sighing as though she were in the grips of a terrible nightmare.
“He’s here,” I said, my voice falling to a whisper.
“Who, the murderer?” Damon dropped to his knees and glanced at the girl. His fingers brushed against the wound on her neck. “This is amateur work. Just a baby vampire who doesn’t know better. If we find him, we’ll stake him for the pesky trouble he’s causing. But he’s not a threat,” Damon said, smiling as he wiped a trickle of blood from the side of the girl’s mouth.
“More . . .” the girl gasped, clawing the empty air in front of her. “More!” she yelled in a strangled cry, before collapsing back against the pavement.
“My type of girl.” Damon smiled. “Sadly, no more. Stefan’s decided you’ve had enough,” he said in a singsong voice. “Stefan always likes to control people,” he added cryptically.
I glanced at him in suspicion. Could this have been a trap set up by Damon? He’d done it before—half-killed a girl, only to ensnare me into rescuing her. That had been back in New York City, shortly before Klaus and Lucius had beaten Damon at his own game, nearly killing both of us in the process. I was about to remind him of that when a wavering shadow caught my eye.
It was the figure of a man, wearing a top hat, all the way at the far end of the alley. I shot up.
“Did you see that?”
Damon nodded, his eyes widening slightly. “Go. I’ll take care of her.”
I made a split-second decision to trust my brother. He was all I had.
I lunged toward the shadow, only several meters away from where Damon and I were crouched over the girl.
The shadow bolted as well, stealing around the corner toward the river. I took off after it. My legs were pumping like pistons, and I was running faster and faster, my feet barely hitting the cobblestones. Still, the figure stayed ever so slightly ahead of me, darting this way and that, closer to the rushing Thames.
Faster, I whispered to myself, willing myself to run. Buildings were passing me in the blink of an eye, and I knew I was going as fast I possibly could. Debris blew in my face and caused my eyes to burn, and wind was whistling by my ears. Still, no matter how fast I urged myself to run, I couldn’t catch up to the shadow’s creator, a tall, thin man who I now knew without a doubt was no human.
We ran, faster and faster, toward the river. I could hear a mob of people far off in the distance, but I didn’t look over my shoulder. All my attention was directed at the shadowy man, who was speeding up with every step. The ri
ver was now in full sight, the moon casting a dull sheen on the pitch black water. We were one hundred yards away, then fifty . . . would he jump?
“Stop!” I called, my voice ringing like a clarion bell in the darkness. My feet hit the uneven boards of a dock, but the vampire had disappeared. An abandoned pier stood on one side of me, a warehouse on the other, but no sign of the killer. Police bells were clanging from the alleys. I gazed wildly in all directions.
“Show yourself!” I called. My gaze fixed on the warehouse. Could he have ducked in there? I picked my way toward it, stepping on an overturned milk crate to get a view inside one of the windows.
The window was frosted and filthy. I squinted, but even with my heightened senses, I couldn’t make out anything within, though I knew the vampire was in there. He had to be. I didn’t want to break in and find myself in a death trap. And I knew that if I stayed here, the police would soon find me—and the vampire. A cornered vampire could easily take on the police, and that would lead to more bloodshed. But I couldn’t go into the warehouse on my own. There was nothing to do except turn back and get Damon to devise a plan.
I kicked the side of the warehouse in frustration, but then I heard a sound. It was so subtle, I thought it was the waves of the river lapping against the dock until I realized that wasn’t it at all.
It was the sound of laughter.
Turning, I trudged back to the tavern.
Unlike an hour earlier, a sober atmosphere had taken over at the Ten Bells when I returned. Candles had been lit, brandy had been poured, and almost every table was occupied by a policeman taking a report from the various revelers who’d been in the tavern when the drunk had come in screaming bloody murder.
“I saw the girl. She was lying in her blood,” the man kept saying, his face red. “I told you, there was no one else.”
Eliza walked up to me, holding a snifter of brandy. “I was worried about you!” she said. “You ran out, and I thought, that bloke’s going to get himself killed, he is. ’Ow’s Martha doing?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. Martha must have been the girl. Had Damon brought her back? I caught a glimpse of Violet, filling brandy glasses as quickly as she could behind the bar. Her face was white with fright.
“Violet!” I called, relieved to see her. “Where is the girl? Is she alive?” I asked brusquely.