The Compelled (The Vampire Diaries 19)

“No lying to them. Anyone else is fair game. And besides, I don’t think of compelling as lying. It’s just strongly suggesting. Witches know it’s what we do.”

Cora nodded. “I just don’t want them to be angry with us. They seem scary.”

“Cora, I’m offended!” Damon said in mock horror. “Do you mean we’re not as terrifying as we think we are?”

Cora smiled. “In your case, your bark is worse than your bite,” she said. “And I think your brother might be the opposite. I’ve seen the way he goes after a rat.”

It was good-natured teasing, but I felt my shoulders tense all the same. Even Cora recognized the way I craved blood wasn’t normal. I was glad I’d resisted the urge to feed on the humans in Hyde Park.

“Well, as long as Cora’s somewhere safe,” I hedged. As if Damon needed my permission to do anything. I hadn’t thought of what Cora would do as we carried out our plan. The longer she stayed with us, the less I saw her as a human who needed protecting. As much as I hated to admit it, Damon was right. No matter how tough Cora was, she was still a human, and we needed to make special provisions for her.

“Thanks for your permission, brother,” Damon said as he headed toward the exit of the tunnel, Cora trailing behind him.

“Remember to bring a stake. And be on time!” I pressed.

I watched my brother retreat as a familiar splinter of doubt lodged its way into my stomach.

Stop it, I said to myself. It was a good idea: Cora needed to hide somewhere safer than Miller’s Court or the tunnel. And if Damon wanted a home in London to use after we vanquished Samuel, why, that was his prerogative. I couldn’t wait to get out of the city, but Damon never could resist being at the center of the action.

I scrambled up the ladder into the sunlight, then walked toward the bridge above the tunnel. A coach was waiting outside a townhouse a few meters down the road. I glanced at the dark horse pawing the cobblestones. As a child, whenever I felt confused, angry, or upset, I’d ride my horse, Mezzanotte, into the forest. With each clip-clop of her hooves, my thoughts would unwind and my brain would relax. The horse in front of me was nothing like Mezzanotte. It had a patchy black coat and tangled mane.

And yet…

I stared into the coachman’s watery eyes.

“I need that horse,” I said firmly.

He complacently untied the horse from the carriage. “All right, gov’nor,” he said, passing me the reins.

I hopped into the saddle.

“Hi, girl,” I whispered into her flea-bitten neck. I gently cracked the whip the coachman had given me and took off through the maze of London streets. I wasn’t sure where I was going, only that I needed to clear my head.

I ended up riding the horse to Hampstead Heath. From there, I had a view of all of London. The city looked beautiful and elegant, with its limestone buildings reaching toward the sky.

I closed my eyes, a vision forming in my mind of a crumbled city, cloudy with smoke, its streets awash with blood and bodies. That’s what would happen if Samuel took over. I knew it.

A memory drifted back to me, as sharp and clear as though it had just happened yesterday:

My father and I were in the cool, dark woods just beyond our Mystic Falls property. He’d brought Damon and I there to tell us his fear: that the Civil War had awakened vampires, that they could smell blood, and that they’d infiltrated the town. Damon had gotten angry at what he’d called my father’s “insane ranting” and stormed off. I had listened.

We are on the side of what is right and good. It is kill or be killed. Do you understand me, boy? This is the war you’re being drafted to fight. Right here. It was my father’s voice, so distinct and resolute that he could have been standing right next to me.

Twenty years and countless deaths later, the words were still true. I was my father’s son, and I knew it was my legacy to save this city from almost certain destruction.

I didn’t have any time to waste. Kicking the horse’s flank, I rode into Hyde Park, deep into the brambles. I had hunting to do.

Once I was satiated with the blood of two foxes and three badgers, I jumped back on the horse and made my way to the East End. The sun was rapidly slipping below the horizon, and I already knew I was running late to meet the witches.

I hitched the horse in front of Miller’s Court. In an emergency, we could use it for a quick getaway. I knocked on the door. When I didn’t hear an answer, I pushed my way in, stake in hand. I’d fashioned it from an oak branch I’d found on the ground in the park. I liked it. It was elegant, yet powerful. It would do the job. We’d decided it would make the most sense for Damon to have the first opportunity to strike Samuel. After all, he’d be right next to him. But if he failed, I’d be ready.

I stopped short as soon as I walked in the door. Had I entered the wrong house? The stairs had righted themselves, a banister now hung securely along the side, and the walls were freshly painted. But the low chanting coming from upstairs assured me that I was in the right place. I hurried up to the second floor and found the witches preparing for the spell.

Lady Alice, clad in a silvery robe, glided down the stairs. “Stefan, are you ready?”

“I am,” I breathed. Her gardenia-and-jasmine scent assaulted my nostrils, but I didn’t feel the same need to feed as I had two nights before. The only blood I wanted was Samuel’s. My father had been right about something else, too: War had awakened the vampire—the angry, destructive force—within me. I was ready for battle.

A blazing fire burned in the circle at the center of the room. Next to the fire sat a bench, surrounded by dozens of tall, tapered candles. It looked almost like an altar. On top of it lay Mary Jane, her dark hair loose around her head and topped with a wreath made of intertwined lilac and foxglove. Mary Jane’s friends weren’t here, which was for the best. Better for them to be elsewhere, just in case our plan didn’t go smoothly.