“I’ve heard that there’s cause for celebration,” Damon said as he suavely popped the cork from the bottle. It exploded with a festive fizzing sound, and he began pouring glasses.
“This is my sister!” Violet explained, not tearing her gaze off of Cora.
“How nice,” Damon said, leering. “Family reunions are lovely. And I knew I liked something about you,” Damon said, draping his arm around Violet’s shoulder. “Cora joined our little group just recently as well, a friend of Samuel’s brother. Now it seems we’re just keeping it all in the family!”
“This is Cora,” I said angrily. “Remember?”
Damon shrugged. “Like I said, not in the newspaper, not in my mind. My memory just gets worse and worse with age!” he exclaimed.
“Shut up,” I growled.
“Is that any way to talk to a brother?” Damon responded, keeping a smile on his face.
&nbs
p; “Here here!” Samuel said, raising his glass in a toast, unaware that anything was amiss. “To families. Including my own brother, Henry,” he said, gesturing to the pale, blond man standing next to him. At first glance, he seemed to be about eighteen or nineteen.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, barely managing a polite tone. But Henry’s face cracked into a wide smile, and he pumped my hand enthusiastically.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” he said in an aristocratic British accent that sounded just like his brother’s. But his warm and almost naïve expression was nothing like Samuel’s—and immediately I noticed him casting his gaze on Violet.
“Hello,” he said warmly.
Violet turned to him, her upturned face full of interest. I knew what I was witnessing was the lightning-quick passage of emotions that humans took for granted—the moments at which a stranger became something more, became someone a human could imagine growing old with. In the shadowy darkness, there was no way Henry could tell Violet was a waitress. Violet was speaking in her well-modulated actress voice, and her new dress betrayed none of the stains of the Ten Bells. This is a remarkable age. Just like George had told me, maybe Violet truly could transcend her class and find happiness. She deserved it.
Even though Cora had been found and seemed none the worse for the wear, I knew I couldn’t leave until I cracked the mystery. Why was Damon being so cagey? There was no way he wasn’t somehow involved with the murders. The question was, what had he done? And who had he done it with?
I looked at Henry and Violet again. They were engaged in conversation, their heads bowed as if they’d known each other for years. At least Violet was preoccupied and with someone safe, which gave me the chance I needed to search the party for the mysterious vampire who’d eluded me last night.
Moving through the crowded party proved fruitless. Girls so drunk they could hardly stand up were pawing at me, and the noise of the band overloaded my senses. I stepped outside the warehouse, thinking I would try to find the door he ran through last night. Perhaps he’d left something behind.
The fresh air helped clear my head. I started to walk around the warehouse, looking for a familiar window or door. And then, as the wind picked up, I smelled it.
It was the scent of blood—warm, coursing, and close.
I gnashed my teeth together. The scent made me simultaneously eager to feed and nervous. The killer must be one of the revelers inside the party. But who was he? Or—and this was the thought that filled me with terror—had he already made his move, and the fragrance in the air was a fresh kill?
That possibility was what spurred me to race back inside the warehouse, tearing through the crowd, desperate to find the source of the scent. I didn’t have any time to waste. It was as if I’d lived through the same scenario far too many times, always coming to the scene half a second, half a minute, or half a day late. But this time would be different, I thought wildly as I pushed past a dancing couple, the man whirling a woman faster and faster on his arm. I was no longer a “baby vampire,” a term Lexi derisively used to use to describe me. I had wisdom, age, and blood behind me. This time, I would stop evil before it started.
The warehouse was deceptively large, and I was shocked that the space kept going and going, each inch of concrete floor filled with people laughing, smoking, and drinking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
“Pardon me!” I yelled in frustration, elbowing my way through couples and treading on people’s shoes, only following the ever more pungent scent of iron—until I ran into a solid mass.
I looked up. It was Samuel. Instantly, I stood to my full height and gave him a tight smile. I knew that careening through the warehouse must have made me seem drunk or mad.
“Pardon you!” Samuel said jovially, tipping back his whiskey. “You seem to be in a hurry,” he added, a flicker of amusement on his face.
“I’m looking for a friend,” I muttered, my eyes darting from one side to the other. I realized I hadn’t seen Violet while I was running around. Now not only was I searching for a killer, but for an innocent girl as well. I had to make sure she was safe.
“Consider him here!” he said jovially, blocking my path.
“Not you,” I said, realizing only after the words left my mouth how rude they seemed. “I mean, I’m looking for Violet.”
“Violet!” His eyes lit up in recognition. “Of course. I thought I saw her over by the bar . . . would you like to go with me?”
I didn’t bother to be polite as I took off toward the bar, desperately scanning the crowd. It thinned out as I ran, and finally, I could stand without being bumped or jostled. I allowed my eyes to readjust to the dim light. The far side of the warehouse had two open doors that led to the docks, and, beyond that, the water. The doors had been propped open with several wooden milk crates, presumably to allow fresh air in. Still, while the rest of the warehouse was crammed, this part was unlit and deserted. I could smell cobwebs and mold.
And blood.