“As for your quest against the Ripper vampire…” He paused and rooted through his voluminous pocket before pulling out a handful of thorns, brown and over an inch long.
I reached out to grab them but Ephraim slapped my hand away. “Foolish vampire!” he hissed. “These are very dangerous. This hawthorn is bewitched so that if a vampire touches it, he’ll lose strength along with blood. It will block the normal curative powers of human blood.”
I nodded, entranced.
“Ephraim will put these in a pouch for you. But be careful,” he concluded.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely as I carefully took the pouch from Ephraim and tucked it in my pocket.
“And now, time to take some of your blood, vampire.” I held out my wrist and watched as Ephraim neatly sliced into my skin. He pulled an ancient vial, crusted with blood, from another pocket and held it up to my wrist, using his fingers to knead and coax drops of blood out of the wound. It was like taking blood from a stone. I was desperately low.
“You need to feed,” Ephraim said sagely.
“I will,” I said. Or I would once we got back to the ground.
“I think this is enough,” he said, holding up the vial to the tiny window. The liquid gleamed in the moonlight, and I watched, entranced. Even though the blood was my own, I was still fascinated by the way it looked. No matter how often I saw it, blood was beautiful.
Ephraim trained his gaze on Cora. “Ephraim needs something from you, too.”
“Fine,” Cora said proudly, shaking her hair back from her face as she held both her wrists out under his nose.
The raven cawed in protest.
“No, no, no—no blood! What would Ephraim do with human blood? No, your fee is your hair.”
“My hair?” Cora asked blankly.
“Just a lock. It helps with the relocation spell. You’re her kin.”
“All right,” Cora said, not flinching as the knife came down dangerously close to her ear. Ephraim took the lock of hair and lit a candle.
“By the burning of this hair
Clear the way to Samuel’s lair.
For good or evil may it be,
But let this spell bring her to thee.”
He brought the lock of hair to the flame and it exploded in a sphere of purple light. At the center of the orb was an image of Violet under a gaslight, her fangs buried deep in the neck of a well-dressed gentleman.
I shivered. All too quickly, the orb disappeared, plunging the room into darkness.
“You’re done here.” Ephraim nodded, and the raven cawed.
“Three o’clock, then?” Cora asked.
“Yes. Tell James that Ephraim sends his regards. Goodbye, vampire,” Ephraim said, as he swung the vial of blood back and forth.
Cora and I clambered back down the stairs, glad to be leaving Ephraim’s oddness behind us. As we stepped out of the tower into the night, I heard the clock strike one long, plaintive stroke: one o’clock. Only a few more hours until we saw Violet.
“You need to eat,” Cora reminded me.
“I will,” I said. Or I would once we’d set up camp outside Samuel’s house. I didn’t want something as minor as my diet to waylay our plans.
“Do you want my blood?” Cora asked shyly, holding out her pale arms. The moonlight cast a shaft of light over her skin and I could see blue veins crisscrossing just beneath the surface. I imagined what her blood would taste like. Back when I’d first become a vampire, I couldn’t pass a woman without envisioning her blood running down my throat. Then, I’d plan my attack, and feed. Never had a woman offered her blood to me.
I shook my head. “I’ll have a pigeon,” I decided. “Or a squirrel.”