The Asylum (The Vampire Diaries 18)

Damon shrugged. “Apparently it’s a deterrent. It wasn’t for me when I was in the Sahara, but James said it could slow down a vampire on the run. I figure it can’t hurt.” He paused. “In the end, Samuel will be destroyed. It will be bloody, and there may be unintended victims. If you can’t handle that, then get out now and leave me to do what needs to be done.”

“I’m all in,” I said calmly. “And Damon… I’m sorry.”

Damon nodded. “All right,” he said. In Damon’s vocabulary, “all right” was as good as “apology accepted.” I decided I’d take it. I had to.

“Samuel has an office in the Magdalene Asylum where he feeds on the girls and keeps some of his campaign papers. We can sneak in, wait for him, and then…” Damon trailed off. Then what? Kill him? Follow him? Beg for Cora’s life back? This was going to be tricky, and we couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

“It’s almost daylight. The girls will be going to Mass soon. We’ll sneak in then,” I said. “We can set traps with our supplies. If this is what we’re doing, we have to go now.”

“I have weapons,” Damon muttered. “I’ve been experimenting with explosives. Of course, I’d love to kill Samuel with my bare hands, but I wouldn’t mind watching his body burn.”

“Great,” I said. I was glad we were agreeing on something, even if it was the best way to murder our mutual enemy.

“Let’s kill him. I want blood on the floor, and his body ripped apart. I want him destroyed,” Damon said as if in a trance. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale. The porter at the door had been right—anyone would take him for a madman.

He was out for blood. I was out to save Cora. But for now, our mission was the same: Take down Samuel in any way possible.

18

The sun was just coming over the horizon when we reached the Magdalene Asylum. Damon had an oversize rucksack on his back, in which he’d pack his explosives, his crossbow, his stakes, and my tiny pouch of hawthorn.

When we reached the Asylum, it was nearly seven. Our plan was to wait until the girls left to go to Mass, then sneak through the back and find the office Cora had described. We’d set our traps in the office, lie in wait, and then, when Samuel came in, we’d attack.

The church bells pealed and, as if on cue, the doors burst open and a line of girls trailed out behind Sister Benedict. I recognized several of them from the benefit. Their eyes darted from left to right, as if they were afraid Jack the Ripper would attack them at any moment. It was clear they were shaken by Cathy’s murder, but I doubted they remembered the incident in the basement at the benefit. Samuel would have made sure of that. I wondered if they thought Cora had met the same fate.

As soon as the line of girls turned the street corner, my brother and I looked at each other.

“It’s time,” Damon said tersely. We stole to the rear of the brick building and found a small, unused door that led to the basement. Damon pushed against it with his shoulder, and it burst open.

“Shhh!” I said, too late, as it banged against the wall. The iron-rich smell of blood wafted toward us from the passageway.

Together, we tiptoed down a set of rickety wooden steps and into the basement of the Asylum. The light streaming from a few tiny windows gave the hallway a grayish glow. A row of nondescript doors with glass windows lined the hallway. One of them must be Samuel’s office. I cocked my head, but I couldn’t make out any noise except for the dripping of water in the laundry at the end of the hall.

We crept closer, following each other’s movements in silence.

“Wait,” Damon whispered. He paused and rifled through the bag, finally pulling out a crossbow and a stake. He passed the stake over to me. “Just in case,” he said as he propped it on his shoulder.

We continued to creep down the hall until the sound of foot

steps stopped our progress.

“Get ready!” Damon hissed.

What if it was one of the nuns or one of the girls? The last thing I wanted was for them to see the de Croix brothers creeping around the basement brandishing weapons. I hid the stake under my shirt, ready if I needed it, but hidden, just in case. Damon kept the crossbow raised, but sunk deeper into the shadows of the basement.

Just then, a large figure lumbered into view. He was wearing filthy clothes and looked like a giant in the cramped basement.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. He had grease stains on his clothes, and I wondered if he was a handyman for the Asylum.

“From the Magdalene Church,” I said. “Sister Agatha’s asked me to check on the building. There’s been a lot of structural damage due to rain. Want to make sure it won’t collapse,” I lied.

“All right,” the man said, scratching his head.

“I’m surprised Sister Agatha didn’t mention anything.”

“No, she didn’t tell me,” the man parroted. He was so tentative in his words and actions I thought he must be slow, and was relieved when he shuffled on down the hall.

Damon moved out of the shadows, shaking his head. “What was that idiot doing down here?”