The Asylum (The Vampire Diaries 18)

This wasn’t a battle to be won by force. This was a battle to be won by intelligence, by Power, and—I realized more and more, as my mind kept returning to the impossibly blocked door in the Asylum—magic.

No rules. No limits. The only certainty was death.

EXCERPT FROM STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 6: THE COMPELLED

There was a moment after Samuel dragged an injured Damon away when it seemed as though my spirit had left my body. It was how I’d felt when a bullet from my father’s gun pierced my chest all those years ago in Mystic Falls: a split-second of agony, followed by a blankness that radiated from the very core of my being.

A low-pitched moan echoed off the stone walls and caused my mind and my soul to snap back to the damp basement of the Magdalene Asylum, where our battle had come to its horrible end only moments before. The smell of Henry’s burning flesh still clung to the room. There was blood pooled on the floor and spattered against the wall, as though the subterranean office had become an impromptu butcher shop. Which, I suppose, it had.

Standing in the corner, Cora moaned again, her hand clasped to her mouth. Cora was an innocent girl caught in a nightmare from which there was no waking. Only a fortnight ago, Samuel had turned her sister, Violet, into a vampire. Ever since then, Cora had been doing anything she could to try to save her, including infiltrating the Magdalene Asylum, of which Samuel was a well-known benefactor. We had hoped to get closer to Samuel, to discover his weaknesses, anything that could help us understand his relentless vendetta against us. Because the murders weren’t committed for the blood. As vampires, we could kill quickly and cleanly if necessary—but we didn’t need to kill for blood. Samuel especially didn’t: As a benefactor to the Magdalene Asylum, he’d been able to drink his fill from its residents, compelling them to offer their necks to him, and then forget all about the encounter. So why was Samuel intent on brutally slaying and slicing open his victims? It didn’t make sense.

In the process of our investigation, we’d lost Damon. And Cora was losing hope. Cora had desperately wanted to believe her sister could maintain her humanity. But that wasn’t to be the case. Not only had Violet fought brutally against Damon and me moments earlier, but she’d hurt and fed off of Cora. I could only imagine the horrors Cora was reliving as she stood in the corner.

But I couldn’t think of what had happened. I needed to think of the future—and I needed to save Damon.

“We can’t stay here. Let’s go home.” I punched my hand through a window, leaving a trail of blood as shards of glass fell to the floor. I grabbed Cora by the waist and effortlessly pulled her through the window, and together, the two of us raced from the Magdalene Asylum gates and out onto the rain-slicked streets of London. Our destination was the Underground tunnel where we’d spent our nights for the last week.

High above us, a few fireworks lit the night sky, and I remembered it was the evening before Guy Fawkes Day, the holiday during which the British celebrated victory over treason. Groups of drunken revelers roamed the streets with torches, singing songs as they rejoiced. A drunken man wavered by, singing, a pint of ale clutched unsteadily in one hand, and I caught one of the lyrics:

Last Guy Fawkes Day as I hear say,

The Devil about did roam.

I grimaced. Little did he know how apt his off-key drinking song was at describing the current situation in London. The sound of my footsteps echoed in my ears, and I could hear Cora’s blood thumping double-time in her veins. I knew from the papers that policemen were hiding in every shadowy alley, on the lookout for the Ripper. I ran at vampire speed past them, pulling Cora with me, and they were oblivious to our presence.

Of course, the police presence was useless. While they were shivering on the streets, on guard for the Ripper’s next attack, the murderer was comfortably ensconced at home in Lansdowne House, most likely plotting ways to destroy my brother.

I couldn’t help but wonder whether Samuel was torturing Damon the way Damon had eventually killed Henry. Damon had stopped at nothing, including burning Henry’s skin with a torch, to make him suffer. Had Samuel somehow upped the ante? Or had he simply slain him with a stake and thrown his lifeless body in the Thames? Torture or kill? It was a lose-lose situation, but I found myself hoping for torture as I pulled Cora around the corner toward the tunnel opening.

We were home. No one was chasing us. No one seemed to be here, perhaps put off by the signs that surrounded the work area, all clearly stating that trespassing was strictly prohibited by the Metropolitan Police.

I jumped down the opening, unfazed by the drop to the bottom of the tunnel. That was one of the advantages of being a vampire: I always knew I’d land on my feet.

I helped Cora down and the two of us faced each other. Despite the darkness, I could see everything, from the packed dirt walls to the pebbles scattered on the ground. Meanwhile, Cora blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

Suddenly, a creature darted past our feet. It was a rat, almost the size of a small cat. Cora’s eyes widened and I expected her to scramble away in surprise. But instead, she grabbed a large stone from the tunnel floor and threw it at the creature. The scuffling stopped.

Cora bent down, scooped up the dead rodent, and held it out to me.

“You need to eat,” she urged. The rat’s head hung limply off Cora’s palm.

“Thank you.” I placed my mouth to its fur before piercing the thin skin with my fangs. The whole time, I was aware of Cora’s unflinching gaze. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like my drinking blood was a surprise to her. She’d seen me bare my fangs to feed, she’d seen me battle Henry and Samuel. The liquid tasted bitter and oily, and yet I felt it calm my body as it ran through my veins.

Once I’d drunk all I could, I threw the carcass to the ground, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and smiled tersely at Cora. Our friendship was one I’d never experienced with a human since I’d become a vampire. Even when Callie had discovered my identity back in New Orleans, I never fed in front of her. I hid my fangs and masked my yearnings, wanting her to only see the best in me. But Cora was different.

“Was that enough?” she asked, sliding into a seated position and crossing her legs under her gray dress, now spattered with dirt and blood. Dark shadows surrounded her eyes, and there were smudges of grime on her cheeks. Both made her freckles stand out, as though her skin were a map of a constellation-filled night sky. Her teeth were chattering. It was cold all over London as a languid October had turned into a bitter November. And it was especially frigid in the tunnel, where the walls were beaded with condensation and a misty gray fog swirled around the darkness.

“It was, thank you. How are you?” I asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words escaped my lips. She’d just killed a rodent in the tunnel of an all-but-abandoned construction site for the London Underground. She’d been betrayed by her vampire sister, and was on the run for her life. She’d witnessed friends dying, vampires torturing one another, and bodies burned to ashes. How did I think she’d feel?

“I’m alive,” Cora said. “I believe that counts for something.” She attempted a laugh, but it came out as a sputtery cough. I patted he

r on the back and was surprised when she leaned in and gave me a hug. I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to get close to me after all she’d seen me do.

“I’m sorry I put you in danger,” I said hollowly. “I should have known that we couldn’t reason with Violet. I should never have brought you to see her.” Before we’d gone to the Magdalene Asylum for our showdown with Samuel, a witch cast a locator spell to help Cora and I find Violet. When we went to see her, she hadn’t listened to anything we’d said and had kidnapped Cora.

“You wouldn’t have been able to keep me away from Violet,” Cora said firmly. “You told me she wouldn’t be the same. But deep down I believed she’d still be my sister. Now I know I was wrong.” Cora shuddered. I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I was so stupid, Stefan,” Cora said, her face twisting into a mask of rage. “I thought I could get through to her. I thought she could change. But there was nothing of my sister left in her. She fed off of me, Stefan. She brought me to the Asylum, and asked a man named Seaver, the groundskeeper, to lock me into that room. I tried to escape, but Seaver started chanting, and suddenly, I was completely trapped.” Cora’s lower lip wobbled as tears spilled down her cheeks. Almost immediately, she wiped them away with the back of her hand and set her mouth in a firm line.