The Compelled (The Vampire Diaries 19)

“No.” I sounded more confident than I felt. When I heard the witches convened in Royal Albert Hall, I imagined it to be a theater much like the West End music hall Violet and I had visited back when she was a human. But this building took my breath away. It was a domelike structure surrounded by windows on all sides, with many tiers that made it look like an enormous wedding cake.

“It’s not a trap.” A smooth voice made me jump. I whirled around. Lady Alice was standing behind us, as though she’d been there the whole time. She was wearing a simple black dress, and a diamond clip was holding her hair at her neck. She looked like she was about to head to the opera. Mary Jane was behind her, clad in a white dress with her hair pinned back in a similar diamond clip.

“So what is it then, a party game?” Damon asked sarcastically, clearly not impressed by Lady Alice’s sudden appearance.

“No, the coven doesn’t play games. We’re loyal to each other,” Lady Alice said, ignoring Damon. “Terrible things happen when that trust is broken.”

“Terrible things happen when vampires turn on each other, too, but that doesn’t stop them,” Damon said darkly.

“Well, that’s another reason why we’re better than you, isn’t it?” Lady Alice said crisply. “Now, come. Everyone’s already gathered. I’ll leave it to you both to explain what you need.”

“Where’s Jemima?” I whispered to Mary Jane as Lady Alice turned. I hoped that she and Lady Alice hadn’t gotten into a disagreement.

“Checking on the others,” Mary Jane replied. She seemed more confident than I’d seen her before. I was happy that she and Lady Alice had finally reunited.

Without waiting for a response, Lady Alice pulled open a wooden trapdoor that lay between the cobblestones of the walkway. Despite the rusty chains giving it the appearance of being tightly locked, it creaked open.

The four of us followed Lady Alice into the darkness and onto a shaky iron spiral staircase that rattled with each footstep. A match blazed in Alice’s hand, casting shadows on the concrete walls. While the exterior of the opera house was majestic, this wasn’t. It was as cold and damp as the Underground tunnel we called home.

Finally, the staircase stopped.

“This is where the magic happens,” Lady Alice said as I took in our surroundings. Hallways containing racks of costumes, set pieces, and scenery branched out in every direction from where we stood. Directly opposite the spiral metal staircase we’d just descended was a set of twelve steps that led to nowhere. Clearly, it was a prop piece for a stage show.

Lady Alice walked to the side of the fake staircase and pushed open a thin wooden door.

“Go on,” she said, gesturing for me to walk through the door. I blinked. It was pitch black and quiet inside. The door was only four feet tall, and I had to duck to get through. I found myself standing in a dark coat closet.

But only for a moment.

Then, right before my eyes, the room began expanding. The ceiling vaulted, the walls fanned out, and furniture appeared out of nowhere. And I realized I wasn’t alone. Chatter surrounded me as the room brightened with orange light. Two white marble benches flanked a fire. Three men and three women sat on the benches. Two of the men looked ancient. The other was middle-aged and had his fingers interlaced with those of a well-dressed woman. An elderly woman perched on a stool by the door, while a girl, scarcely older than Mary Jane, sat apart from the others, on the very edge of a bench. Who were these people? And how did they all find one another? And, most important, would they agree to help us?

I heard someone come through the doorway behind me. “Does she have to turn everything into a damn magic trick?” Damon whispered under his breath, so low only I could hear it.

“Shh!” I was comforted by the untraditional entrance. It was reassuring to have evidence of Lady Alice’s skills before I put my faith in her.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting in,” a wizened man said as he hurried over to Damon. “Of course, I knew who you were from those parties at White’s, b

ut I wasn’t going to say anything. You seemed to be behaving yourself. But I have to admit, I’m glad to see you in this setting.” His gaze shifted to me. “And another one!” he said as he grabbed my hand and shook it. I shifted uncomfortably and ran my tongue over my canine teeth. Still short and straight. The man turned to our escort. “All right, Alice. Now can you tell us why we’re here?”

“Yes, Thatcher,” she said as she patted her hand on his hunched shoulder and subtly forced him back to the marble bench where he’d been sitting. “Now, I’ve told you that we’d have guests tonight. Stefan, Damon, and Mary Jane? Please, come forward.” She ushered us to a spot next to her in front of the fire. “Cora, take a seat.”

Cora nodded nervously, sitting next to a beautiful young woman dressed in a blue velvet dress. Her long curls cascaded down her back and her neck and wrists were dripping with gold and jewels. The half-dozen people in the room looked like lords and ladies from the society pages. Nothing about their dress, or demeanor, revealed their true selves. I felt a pang of envy. They could live normal lives. They could blend in, without worrying about losing control or an accidental flash of fangs.

“As I’m sure all of you noticed, these men are not witches, but vampires,” Lady Alice continued, not bothering to introduce the witches in front of us. “You’ll also notice they’re accompanied by one of our own tonight.” She turned and softened her gaze toward Mary Jane. “This girl is Mary Jane Kelly, a very powerful witch who doesn’t know the greatness of her gifts. She’s descended from the Original coven,” she said, nodding as several witches in the room gasped.

“Why’s a purebred witch wasting her time with ghastly bloodsucking monsters?” The woman in the blue dress sniffed. Cora shot a daggerlike glare at her.

“Because one of us is the ghastly bloodsucking monster who saved her,” Damon said smoothly, smiling his cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.

Lady Alice nodded. “It’s true. Why don’t you explain the rest?” she asked, looking expectantly at me.

I glanced around at the witches, trying to make eye contact. It was imperative they see me as their friend. But before I could explain that I was the one who’d saved Mary Jane, Damon continued.

“You may know me as Damon DeSangue, and this is my brother, Stefan. I came to your country a year ago, and I quickly made the acquaintance of London’s elite, including Samuel Mortimer,” he intoned. “But I can report to you with complete honesty that Samuel Mortimer is a vampire. And he’s Jack the Ripper.”

“That’s outrageous!” one of the old men blurted out, his head snapping up at the word vampire. “I know Samuel Mortimer. He’s a bloody great man.” A few dissenting grumbles echoed in the audience.

Cora came forward. “It’s true. He killed two of my friends and turned my sister into a vampire. I’ve seen him in the act, and I assure you he’s the Ripper.”