“It was for the picnic,” I said. “I hadn’t realized it would be so formal.”
“Stealing linens from the Cumberland Hotel.” Damon shook his head. “Have you finally developed a bit of a wicked streak? That would make you almost interesting.”
“And I suppose if I were you, I’d be stealing the maids from the hotel for blood, right?” I asked. “I’m concerned about the Ripper,” I added. I took a bloom and snapped it from its stem, feeling the velvety softness of the rose’s pink petals. Despite my wish only a second ago to forget the past, my mind flashed back to the petal-pulling he loves me, he loves me not game that Katherine had tortured me with.
I plucked a petal. I trust him, I trust him not, I thought as I dropped each silky flower fragment to the grass.
“You’re concerned about the Ripper.” Damon sneered. “Why? Are you a woman? Are you a whore? You know those are his victims. You’re obsessed, brother! Find a woman to be obsessed with, it’s more rewarding.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s rewarding to run and fetch champagne at every snap of Charlotte’s fingers. The things you do for blood are admirable, brother. I admit it,” I said, pleased I seemed to be holding my own when it came to cutting Damon down. Every time I did that, I felt a slight increase in respect from Damon. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. And if there was one thing I’d learned from dealing with Damon, it was that Damon only played games by his rules.
“And I’m not obsessed, I’m concerned. And you know why!” I said. I still felt Damon was hiding something. Or if he wasn’t hiding anything, then he certainly wasn’t doing anything to let me in. “I know you and I have a history together. An awful, bloody history. But I am raising the white flag. All I want, if we can’t be friends, is for us to not be enemies. Not when there’s too much at stake for both of us.”
“Save the speech.” Damon yawned. “I’ve heard it all. I’m so bored with talking! Talk, talk, talk. And it never changes. I have had the same conversations with the same types of people over and over again. I’m bored, brother,” he said, looking at me straight in the eye.
“All right then,” I said finally. It wasn’t an apology by any stretch of the imagination, but what I hoped Damon meant was that he was bored of his vow, that even if he had no interest in resurrecting our bond, at least he no longer felt the urge to carry on a feud. “So let’s figure this out. I’m worried about Jack the Ripper because I think he could be an Original. I think he could be Klaus. And he’s after us. Or, more likely, he’s after you. He must be. Because that note, in blood . . .” I trailed off, trying to somehow get Damon to recognize the importance of it. “It’s not just a prank. It looked like the message on the wall at the Sutherlands’. So what does that mean?”
Damon waved his hand in front of his face as if he were swatting a fly. “It means you’re vampire-obsessed, brother. Why would Klaus only kill one woman at a time if he could kill dozens? And why would he toy with the press that way? It all seems very human,” he said derisively.
“But ‘From hell’ . . .” I prodded.
Damon rolled his eyes. “For someone who always had his nose in a book, you take things far too literally. I suggest you stop playing detective. Why not have fun? You have a lovely girl, you’re in a new city . . . lighten up.” Damon looked at me critically. “Or maybe fill up. When was the last time you fed?”
“Last night,” I said evasively.
“But not on your girl,” he remarked, squinting at Violet. I followed his gaze to her white, unmarked neck.
“Of course not.” I shook my head. “I don’t feed on humans.”
“Well, you should. It’ll quiet your mind. Think about it. You could forget about this nasty Ripper nonsense and enter London society. You could have fun, more fun than you’ve ever known.”
I sighed, imagining what it would be like: endless parties, endless kisses, endless years of amusement. It was the life Damon had chosen. I felt a flicker of doubt. Could Damon be right? Was the secret to eternal happiness just doing what felt good in the moment?
“Tell you what, brother,” Damon said, sensing my hesitation. “Go to Paris. Take yourself away from this nasty business. If it’s Klaus, he’ll find you wherever you are, and if it’s a stupid human, he’ll be caught within a few weeks.”
“And if it’s you?” I asked pointedly.
“If it’s me, then it was clearly while I was under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol-saturated blood.” Damon rolled his eyes. “Come on, brother. Give me some credit. Why would I commit such messy murders in such an undesirable area?”
I nodded. He had a point. And he also had a point that maybe the best thing for me to do for my own peace of mind was simply to go away. But that wasn’t possible. I couldn’t leave London until I felt Violet was safe. And Violet wouldn’t be safe until Jack the Ripper was found. I shook my head.
“Violet has to work at the tavern tonight. I’m going to accompany her, to see if I can find any more information.” I paused. “Come with me.”
“Come with you? To some rat-infested pub? No thank you.”
“You say you’re bored. You say it’s the same thing every time. Why not do something different? Besides . . .” I took a deep breath. “You owe me.”
Callie.
I didn’t have to say her name. I saw something flicker in Damon’s eye. “Fine. But I’ll be drinking champagne, and you’re buying.”
I grinned. “No champagne, brother. Just ale.”
“Good God, do they know nothing about civilization in Whitechapel? Fine. I’ll enjoy an ale.”
I blinked, sure that I’d heard wrong. But Damon had the same slight smile he’d always had lately, his blue eyes reflecting my face in their inky pupils.
“Does that mean you’ll come?” I asked, surprise evident in my voice.