Everyone had turned on us. Including the witches. But I knew, deep down, that Lady Alice would want to avenge Mary Jane’s death as much as I did. The image of the terrible gold-tinged blood frothing at Samuel’s mouth sprung to my mind. I wouldn’t let Mary Jane’s death fuel evil. And if Lady Alice loved her as much as she said, she wouldn’t either. Making up my mind, I headed to Lady Alice’s house. Was it a suicide mission? Maybe. I knew she hated me. But she was also our only hope.
By the time I reached the mansion, my boots were soaked and my fingers felt raw from the cold. I tentatively pushed the iron gate, surprised when it swung op
en without force. She must not have sensed my presence, because walking down the path was Lady Alice herself, wearing a shapeless white robe that looked like a burial shroud.
“Stefan,” she said briefly. I could tell that behind her back she gripped a stake. She was ready for anything.
Silence hung in the air as we appraised each other. I knew she might attack at any second, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I wondered if she could hear it.
I imagined the stake coming toward my chest. I’d dodge, before trying to knock the stake out of her hand. I’d want to reason with her. But unbidden, another more terrifying image sprang to my mind. The wooden point would graze my chest and my fangs would appear. In an instant, I’d sink my teeth into Lady Alice’s neck and tear her throat out, stopping only when her body was drained. I mashed my lips together and avoided her gaze. When I was provoked, I was no longer Stefan. I was a monster.
“I’m not here to fight,” I said, profoundly hoping it was the truth. “I just want to talk. I’ll agree to whatever terms make you feel comfortable.”
Lady Alice hesitated, and I could see that she was weighing her options.
“All right.” Lady Alice nodded. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Come with me.” She gestured for me to follow her down the winding walkway and to a gravel pathway behind the house. In its center was a single rosebush, bursting with red blossoms despite the weather. I followed her, matching her slow, careful steps.
“As good as gold,” she murmured as she neared the center. Once there, she turned to face me. The setting sun illuminated her face. “It’s funny—people say that all the time without really knowing what it means. But in Mary Jane’s case, I saw it with my own eyes. She truly was as good as gold. And now, that good has been turned evil. You broke vinculum, and I do blame you for what has happened. But I won’t kill you. Still, here’s what you need to know, Stefan,” Lady Alice said in a low voice, her eyes blazing. “I know you’ll ask me to help you, and I know you’ll say that you’re not asking for yourself. I know you’ll say that you’re asking for the greater good, and that London is in grave danger.”
“Yes,” I began, nodding. “But…”
“I know you’re going to say that you’re doing this for Mary Jane. That if we don’t do something, her life was in vain.”
“Y-y-yes,” I said hesitantly.
“But I can’t help you,” she said finally. “I’m not like you. I can’t just drink blood and be good as new. I need time to grieve. And I can’t work with people I don’t trust. Because you betrayed me, Stefan. You may not have meant to, but you gave me your word, and your word was false. Words have power. And when that power is undermined…” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s like when one of your kind gets staked. Not in the heart, so it doesn’t kill you. But it drains your Power.”
“I understand,” I said. “But this isn’t just about us. Now that Samuel has the power to compel vampires, he can control the whole city. Innocent lives will be lost. I won’t ask you to fight, but can’t you help us? Could you make more eleuthro?”
She sighed heavily. “No, Stefan. I can’t make eleuthro.” She reached toward the rose bush, touching one of the flowers. The petals fell to the earth like drops of blood on the thin white layer of snow. “Witches only have as much power as their coven. And right now, we’re all in mourning, all unsure how we’ll handle this…situation. We will band together again if we find one of our own in danger, but we will not help the likes of you. That much is certain. And until I have the support of my coven, I don’t have any power at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Sorry doesn’t bring back Mary Jane. Now go. You’ve said enough. I can’t bear to hear any more.”
I nodded mutely and turned my back, shuffling down the hill.
“Hello, brother,” Damon said, startling me by bursting into my bedroom. He was wearing a suit with a black silk ascot tied around his neck. He dropped a similarly expensive-looking suit on the foot of my bed. It was later that evening, and I’d spent the last hour frowning into my notebook, desperately trying to come up with a plan. But I couldn’t. I could barely even write. Words have power, Lady Alice had said. Well, the blank page in front of me certainly didn’t. I was out of ideas.
But while I was miserable, Damon seemed positively overjoyed. He held a crystal glass in his hands. “Would you like a drink?”
I shook my head. “I have nothing to celebrate.”
“Who said you need a reason to celebrate?” He pushed the glass closer to me.
“You want to celebrate while Samuel’s probably rounding up a vampire army?” I concentrated on the dimly glowing lapis lazuli stone set in the ring on my finger so I could avoid his gaze. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Why? Because a witch yelled at you?” Damon asked pointedly. He sat in a chair in the corner and swirled his glass. “Cora told me you saw Lady Alice, and it didn’t go well. What did you expect? A hero’s welcome and a six-course dinner? We tried to use magic, and it didn’t work. So now we go to Plan D,” he said, downing his glass and holding it out to me in a mock toast.
“Plan drunk?” I asked wryly.
“That’s a good one!” he said enthusiastically. “But no. Plan Damon.”
“And what would that be?” I asked, turning to face him. “Is that ‘Kill all of London before Samuel does it first’? Is it ‘Compel your way into millions before running away’? Or is it ‘Go over to his side, because you always want to be the one to win’?”
“None of the above.” Damon shrugged. “But I will say it’s far better than moping, which is Plan Stefan.”
I glanced back at my notebook so he wouldn’t see the redness rise to my cheeks. Was that true? And why did I care? Damon liked to deliberately provoke, and no matter what, I walked into his trap.