“True.” I took a large drink, as if to prove to her I wasn’t afraid of the potion—or her. The liquid bubbled down my throat. It tasted fetid and vile, as if it were made of the refuse filling the streets.
“I’ll need some, too,” Cora said, plucking the pitcher from my hands and taking several deep gulps as though she were one of the tavern girls holding her own in a pint-drinking competition with dock laborers.
“Good girl,” Jemima said, sounding impressed. The boys drank from the pitcher in turn. “And now that we’ve all drunk up, it’s time to go. Who knows how long he’ll be at the Bridge.”
I felt stronger, and my throbbing headache had disappeared. The eleuthro was better than blood. It took the edge off my nerves and made me feel like I could take on anyone—or anything. I experimentally squeezed the arm of a nearby chair, thrilled to see the wood snap like a twig between my fingers.
“Confident the potion works, vampire?” Jemima asked, her hands on her hips.
“Yes,” I said testily. “And I’m sorry I broke the chair, but this makes a good stake. We need more weapons like this, just in case,” I said. It was true. The slim chair arm tapered into a sharp point that would easily pierce through skin. I hasti
ly turned to address all the witches. “Damon will most likely be tied up with vervain-soaked ropes. Vervain’s poisonous to me, so I can’t untie him. Could one of you set him free? The herb won’t hurt you.”
“I will,” Billy volunteered, heading to the remains of the chair to create more makeshift stakes.
“Thank you,” I said. “Jemima, are there any spells you can perform that could help?”
“Are there any spells I can perform?” Jemima repeated sarcastically. I sucked in my breath, annoyed at the literal way she took my words but knowing far better than to say anything.
“What spell do you think would be best?” I asked patiently.
“Leave that to me, vampire,” Jemima said. “I’m not sharing all my secrets with you. I know you’re honest, but I still can’t trust you. And I won’t know what spell to perform until I see Samuel for myself.”
“What can I do?” Gus asked, stepping up to me.
I appraised the skinny boy, then glanced at Jemima. She nodded at me, as if giving me permission to speak. “Why don’t you watch out for Cora,” I decided.
“I don’t need looking out for,” Cora retorted.
“I know. But if Samuel and Violet are on the scene, then—”
“Then I want to fight them,” Cora said, cutting me off.
“And aren’t you forgetting something, vampire?” Jemima smirked.
“What?” I asked. We had stakes, we had spells…
“How do you plan to carry this off at Tower Bridge? There are always people around. You really need a blocking spell, so no one walks in on us.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. Despite Jemima’s sarcasm, her suggestion proved she was listening and ready to help.
“Vampires just don’t think about details,” Jemima muttered. “Gus and Mary Jane, can you do a simple circle spell when we get to the Bridge? Don’t want any mortals getting caught in the ruckus.”
“Thank you,” I said meaningfully, locking eyes with Jemima.
Jemima didn’t respond, but the corners of her mouth twisted into a small smile.
And with all the witches on board, we streamed toward the door, ready to free my brother.
“Damon, I’m coming,” I whispered under my breath. But the only response was the ominous sound of rain pelting the roof.
5
Together, stakes concealed under our clothing, our motley group traipsed through the back alleys of London’s East End. What had been a cloudy day had turned into a bitterly cold and rainy evening. Cora shivered beside me.
As we walked past a public house where a few men hunched over their pints of ale, Mary Jane hurried to catch up with me. I forced myself to take slow, measured steps, but it was hard to walk at human speed with the eleuthro surging through my veins. All of my senses were heightened, and I breathed in the stench of rotting garbage in the gutter. As pungent as the scent was, it was a poor distraction from the sound of blood pumping around me. While it may have taken the edge off my nerves, the eleuthro hadn’t assuaged my craving. If anything, it had intensified it.
“The first rule we have when performing magic is to not draw any attention to ourselves,” Mary Jane said, pulling me back to the conversation. I hadn’t been paying attention. I was so distracted by the thought of blood that I could almost taste it on my tongue. I knew it was simply because we were in the East End, which was packed with residents. The more humans, the greater concentration of blood. That was one of the many reasons I’d preferred my life in a quaint village where neighbors were few and far between. It was easier to ignore the call of blood.