Violet sniffled, and I saw two large tears roll down her cheeks. “I want to go home,” she said in a small voice. “I want to be with my mom and sisters. I don’t belong here. If I have to die . . . and I want to die, I don’t want to become a monster . . . then I want to die as myself. As Violet Burns. I want to be home. I want Cora.”
I glanced at her as she stared bravely ahead. I wanted to charter a ship, or to swim across the dark Irish Sea myself to give her what she wanted. But I couldn’t. And she knew that.
“I’m just rabbiting on. I just want to see my sister one last time.”
“I know you do,” I said. “But if we find her, then I think Damon will find you. But Cora’s all right. She’s protected. The charm you gave her is filled with vervain. It’s an herb that protects people from vampires. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you, but . . .”
Violet clawed at the hollow of her neck. “It was my fault,” she realized.
“No. You saved your sister. Whether or not you knew what the charm was, you knew it was good luck, and you gave it to her. That’s love,” I said, smiling at Violet. I wondered if I’d been in a similar situation, if I’d have done the same thing for Damon.
“Well, I hope she thinks of me every time she wears it,” Violet said. “And maybe I can write her a letter. And you can deliver it. Because she needs someone to look out for her,” Violet said, piecing each sentence together slowly.
“Of course. I’ll look after Cora, and I promise you, she will be safe. And I know where I can take you,” I decided, picking up her hand. I hoped the Abbotts’ farm would remind her of the rolling Irish hills she’d told me about. It was a small comfort, no replacement for the real thing, but it was the best I could do.
Violet nodded meekly. I looked down at her in agony, a tear threatening to escape my eye. I let it fall, watching it splash on Violet’s hair, wishing there was something I could do. All I’d wanted this evening was for Violet to be safe. And here she was still in my arms—but full of vampire blood. I had failed her.
Chapter 14
There have been times in my life that I felt something, or someone, was watching out for me. Because how else could both Violet and I have made it to Paddington Station without being stopped by the police or a concerned passerby? It helped that we took a few garments from a traveler’s luggage as they waited for their train, and were no longer wearing bloodstained clothes. But still, I had to support Violet against my side, and even a casual observer could see she was close to death. And yet, no one had noticed us.
I didn’t think of it as providence. Maybe I would have, at one point. But now I only felt it was evidence of my innate evil. I frightened people. Tonight, the only ones who might block our path would be monsters.
Once we got to the train station, I used the last few coins in my pocket to pay for our tickets to Ivinghoe. We caught the first train out of the city, and I should have felt relief. But I didn’t. Because I had no idea when Violet was going to die. All I hoped was that I could get her safely to my cabin.
“Stefan?” Violet asked as her fingers, as light as the brush of a hummingbird’s wing, glided across my arm.
“Yes?” I replied, pulling my gaze away from the window. Instead of looking like she was at death’s door, Violet had a flush in her cheeks and her eyes were bright. We’d been on the train for nearly an hour and were now on the outskirts of London’s sprawl. Even a touch of country air was doing wonders for Violet. But it wouldn’t save her.
“I feel better,” Violet whispered hopefully, obviously thinking the same thing that I had. “Do you think I might live?”
“No,” I said sadly. I didn’t want to be callous, but it would be even crueler to fill her with false hope. No matter how she felt or how she looked, Violet’s fate was sealed.
“Oh,” she said quietly, pressing her lips together and staring out at the greenery passing by the window. The compartment we were seated in was identical to the one I had sat in when I came to London. A silver tea-service tray lay between us, with china plates piled high with scones and sandwiches. It was still very early, and the train was almost deserted. Violet had alternated between dozing and taking dainty bites of one of the scones. I’d spent the majority of the journey staring out the window. The scenery was lush and green, and totally at odds with the darkness of my mood.
“Once the transition starts, there’s no cure,” I repeated patient
ly.
“Except if I drink human blood,” Violet corrected.
“That’s not a cure,” I said grimly.
“I know,” Violet said quietly before staring far off into the distance.
“If I could go back and do it all over again, I would have chosen death,” I said. I put my hand on top of hers to comfort her.
“There’s so much I haven’t seen and haven’t done,” Violet said sadly. “I was never onstage, I never had children . . . I’ve never even been in love.”
I continued to stroke her small hand. There was nothing I could say.
Violet whimpered and allowed her head to rest against my shoulder. “I’m so cold,” she whispered.
“I know. I know,” I said. I stroked her hair, wishing I could make her death easier. It would be, I told myself. Once we were back at the Manor and away from danger. I wanted her to find solace in the quiet of my cabin and peacefully slip away. She’d had a hard life. Maybe the afterlife would be better for her.
Violet’s breathing steadied, and she fell asleep. I glanced out the window. The sky seemed clearer the farther we got from London. I heard a faint noise, but it wasn’t coming from my mind. It was coming from outside.
“Yes?” I called sharply, assuming it was a porter arriving with more scones or another selection of papers.