The Asylum (The Vampire Diaries 18)

“We need to find them.” Damon’s mouth was set. “Another Jack the Ripper attack will happen tonight. He knows we’re here. And he won’t stop killing until the trail of blood leads the police to us.”

Damon took a distraught Cora under his arm and led her out of the room.

We left through a back entrance, and the three of us ran through the streets for what felt like an eternity. The wind was howling, and the party seemed ages away. As we pelted toward the rain-soaked alleys of Whitechapel, I felt as if we’d been transported back to Mystic Falls after the vampire siege, when the entire town had smelled of vervain, fire, blood, and death. Except Whitechapel was filled with snaking side streets and tiny courtyards masked by towering boardinghouses. It would be impossible to find Samuel in time. And yet, we had to.

I sniffed the air to pick out Samuel’s direction. The wind carried the unmistakable scent of blood toward us. It was so strong my fangs automatically bulged under my gums.

We were too late.

Rushing toward source of the smell, I saw movement at the center of the square.

“He’s here,” Damon said tersely.

I nodded, freezing in my tracks.

Then another sound captured my attention. I might have chalked it up to the wind, whistling through the narrow alleys, but Damon had heard it, too. He sprang toward the end of the alley. I urged Cora to stay put before following him.

And there, I saw him. Lit by a thin sliver of moonlight was Henry. A knife glittered in his hand, dripping with blood. Below him lay the prone body of Cathy, the Asylum girl who’d befri

ended Cora.

My stomach lurched. I’d been responsible for dozens of deaths, and I’d seen terrible vampire murders. But I’d never seen a death like this. It brought me back two decades to the Sutherlands’ well-maintained living room. There, the entrails of every member of the Sutherland family were spattered across the walls and the floor, making it impossible to tell which body part originally belonged to whom.

And here, Cathy’s guts were being splayed out onto the street. Henry seemed entranced by the gore. Most vampires killed cleanly, draining blood from two small holes in the neck. But Henry had split open Cathy’s entire body, and had made slash after slash across her neck. Her clothing was so bloodstained that it was impossible to ascertain the original color of her dress. This was the work of a deranged demon.

Henry looked up. I was sure he knew what a picture he was painting for us, bowed over his prey. “Why, hello. I’m afraid you’re late for dinner. I would have whipped up a dessert, but my brother told me this blood was ruined for vampire consumption. What a waste.” Henry leered at us. Then he stood and lunged toward Damon.

Damon sidestepped him, causing Henry to ricochet against the wall. He fell to the ground, but quickly bounced back up, laughing demonically. With Damon occupying his attention, I rushed to check on Cathy to see if anything could be done.

I knelt beside her body, thankful that she was dead, not alive and in agony. Hopefully the death had been quick. Then I thought about Elizabeth, too, who might not have been so lucky. Chances were, since she wasn’t here now, she’d already met her fate.

“Good luck trying to fix that mess,” a smooth, low voice said behind me. “I’d say better luck next time, but there won’t be one.”

I whirled around. It was Samuel, a snow-white handkerchief tucked in his jacket pocket and a half smile on his face.

“I’m surprised you’re so disgusted. I do know how fond you and your brother are of messes. Isn’t that what you both have been doing since you arrived in London? Finding yourselves in impossible situations? It’s as if you two have a death wish.” Samuel shook his head. “In a way, it’s too easy,” he mused, kneeling down and smoothing Cathy’s hair back from her pale face as tenderly as a husband caressing his bride. From the neck up, she looked as if she was merely sleeping.

I leaped toward Samuel, guided by instinct as I threw a wild punch. My fist hit flesh, and Samuel staggered back. Maybe the vervain had affected him more than I thought. I wound up, ready to hit again, when a wild, raw scream rang out behind me. I whirled around and saw Cora next to Cathy’s body. Seeing her face, tortured by the sight of her friend ripped to pieces, I hurried to her side, my fight with Samuel all but forgotten.

Samuel, standing tall and strong as ever, turned toward Cora, a bemused expression on his face. “So, shall I kill your little friend? Or make her one of us?” Samuel asked as he pulled out a gold pocket watch and noted the time, smiling in satisfaction. I pulled Cora closer to me. “By my account, the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee should be here in minutes. I’ve been asking them to patrol Mitre Square every hour, on the hour. I always thought it was the perfect place for a careless killer to be caught. So you’ll forgive me if I break up the games,” he said. He whistled once. Henry looked up from his scuffle with Damon and immediately raced to his brother’s side. “They’ll appreciate catching the killers red-handed. Take it like men, will you?” With that, Samuel grabbed the back of Damon’s neck and forced his face into Cathy’s innards. Cora moaned in dismay, and I felt my own insides twist.

Damon choked as the vervain in Cathy’s body hit his lips and tried to jerk back, sputtering in equal parts anger and agony.

“Stefan? A snack?” Samuel asked, cackling, then shook his head as if he’d thought better of it. “No, too easy. And too unkind. I know how your brother abhors sharing the spotlight. Just like he abhors sharing his women. Katherine would always relay how humorous it was to pit the two of you against each other and watch you fight for her affections. As if either of you ever could have won her hand,” he laughed, as a peal of police bells pierced the night air and candlelight appeared in the windows of the buildings facing the square. Curious faces peeked out, and I knew we had only seconds to escape.

“I’ll see you soon, Stefan. And Damon, enjoy your demise,” Samuel said, releasing Damon’s neck. He seized Henry by the arm and they took off around the corner. The Whitechapel Vigilance Committee was coming, and Damon was again weakened by vervain. Still, I yanked him to his feet and searched for an escape route. A narrow path ran between two houses nearby. That would have to do.

“We can’t just leave her!” Cora shouted, staring at Cathy’s mutilated body in despair.

“Cora, we have to go!” I said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed her to pay attention. If Cora became hysterical, none of us would be safe.

Cora straightened her shoulders and pressed her lips together in a tight line. A single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. She didn’t bother wiping it away.

“I’m fine,” she said, nodding her head as if willing it to be true. I dragged Damon with me alongside Cora as we ran, winding down one alley and another until we came to a tiny passageway between streets, filled with refuse and rats.

“Here,” Cora said, walking midway down the street and throwing her shoulder against a wooden door. Nothing. I stepped in front of her and tried again. It swung open easily.

As soon as we walked inside, I heard rats scurrying and bats squeaking. The structure seemed to have been a milliner’s shop at some point, and dusty hats and dresses hung from racks, rotting. I quickly located a heavy black trunk and dragged it in front of the door.