The Ripper (The Vampire Diaries 17)

“Are you mad at me?” she asked in a tiny voice.

I shook my head silently and helped her lie down, tucking her under the crisp white linen sheets and opening the window, hoping that the fall air could provide some solace.

“I was so hungry,” she said in a small voice. “I still am.”

“I know,” I said. The chicken blood wouldn’t do anything. To turn, a vampire needed human blood. “I know it’s hard. And I know you’re suffering,” I said helplessly. She nodded, a drop of chicken blood still lingering on the corner of her mouth. “But remember, you’re going someplace better. I truly believe that. And I know it will be painful, but after pain comes peace.”

I suppose I also hoped that for my sake as well. After all, I had created this. My mind kept playing the same tug-of-war over and over again. The logical part of my brain told me that this could have happened whether or not I’d been involved. After all, if Violet and I had never met, she might have been kicked out to the street. She could have been found by anyone.

Or she might be on the brink of a long, happy life.

“Stefan, I . . .” Violet said, breathing heavily with every word.

“It’s all right. Go and find peace,” I said. It was the good-bye I’d never given Callie. Now, I knew that the best thing I could do was let Violet know it was okay to go.

“But . . . I . . .” Violet s

aid, her breath laboring with each word. I leaned in closer to hear, my ear just inches away from her mouth, when all of a sudden, I heard a terrible, otherworldly shriek piercing the night air.

But it wasn’t Violet. It was coming from the Manor.

I tore my gaze away from Violet and rushed up to the house, fearing the worst.

Chapter 17

The Manor was pitch-black, and there was no sign of anyone, not even Mrs. Duckworth, who often kept late hours knitting by candlelight. There wasn’t even a lantern lighting the porch, and I felt my stomach sink. Something was very, very wrong.

“Hello?” I called, my voice wavering. “Who’s here?” I called again, wishing I’d remembered to grab a gun before I’d run to the house. “Show yourself!” I yelled, louder than ever, my voice echoing off the stone entranceway.

Silence. Damon must have found us.

Then, I heard a slight cry. It was so faint, I thought I might be imagining things. I cocked my head again. Definitely a noise.

“I’m coming!” I called. If there was sound, it was a sign of life. I quickly sped through the labyrinth of rooms, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, until I came into the parlor.

There, the entire Abbott family was huddled in the corner, Luke as white as a ghost. George was clutching a poker, his eyes wild, and Gertrude had fainted on the floor. Emma, the source of the noise, was crying over her mother. But they were alive.

“I’m here. It’s Stefan. You’re safe,” I said to the family, even though my heart was pounding in terror against my chest. Damon could be anywhere. He was probably right behind me, laughing at me. He’d concocted this scene purely to frighten me, to show me that he wasn’t scared of Klaus because he’d become Klaus. He could commit horrific acts of bloodshed without blinking an eye.

“Stefan?” George said incredulously, his voice dripping with fear.

“Yes. You’ll be safe. I promise,” I said, my eyes darting around the room. The many portraits seemed to be leering down at me. But there was no sign of Damon.

Suddenly, I heard a noise and whirled around. As soon as my back was turned, George sprang up, lunging toward me with the poker. A crazed look was on his florid face.

“Traitor! You stole my son!” George yelled, swinging the iron poker wildly through the air as if it were a sword. I ducked easily, horror dawning on me as I took in the family. Where was Oliver?

“Sir! No! I was down at the farmhouse! It was my brother, Damon. Where is he? Did you see where he went?” I asked desperately as I continued to duck his blows.

I felt something jump on my back. I spun around and realized Luke had clamped himself to my shoulders and was kicking his legs into my lungs.

“You took my brother!” he shrieked, pummeling his feet into my back. I struggled against his grip. Emma was crying loudly now, tears streaming down her face.

“Fiend! You shall die!” George roared, lunging toward me in the darkness.

“It wasn’t me!” I yelled futilely. I shrugged Luke off my back. He fell to the floor with a sickening thump, and I used the moment George turned to tend to him to hurry out of the house and into the darkness, confident my vampire senses would give me a head start. But I knew I didn’t have much time. George would run to a neighboring farm for help, and soon there’d be an entire mob looking for me.

But right now, I couldn’t worry about that. Oliver was kidnapped. And a vampire was on the loose. I’d been set up, just like I had when Martha had been found in the alley behind the Ten Bells. Fear flooded my body as I realized the connection. Oliver had been taken for a reason, and I’d left Violet unattended and vulnerable. He was going to get to her and force the choice she’d fought so hard against. Oliver would be the sacrificial lamb. I was just a pawn in my brother’s game, and this time, he was truly playing for blood.