I locked eyes with my brother. “Do you know what’s going on in there?” I asked.
“That the party’s full of vampires? Yes, and apparently, compelled vampires are as dull as dishwater,” he said disdainfully.
“We have to leave, Damon. It’s not safe here.”
Damon shrugged. “Relax. I’ll have a few more dances, then maybe a quick meal off a servant girl. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Fine, do what you like,” I said in disgust. “I’ll see you at home.” Let Damon shirk responsibility in favor of one last dance. I was determined to prevent anyone else from falling into the clutches of Samuel’s army of vampires.
Without another word, I hailed one of the cabs waiting on the corner and directed it back to our Bedford Street home.
13
“What happened?” Cora asked when we finally made our way back to the house.
“That wasn’t a normal party. Samuel’s already hard at work,” I said, explaining what I’d seen upstairs. “His next stop is Ten Downing Street.” Cora’s face whitened, and then she turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I called, trailing behind her as she flung open the cupboards and pulled out sacks of flour and sugar before placing them on the rough-hewn wooden table in the center of the room.
“If we want to have any chance of getting in to stop Samuel, we’ll need reinforcements. You do know what Ten Downing Street is, don’
t you?”
I shook my head.
“It’s where Robert Cecil lives. The prime minister?” Cora said in exasperation. “Stefan, this is serious!”
“I know it is. If he gets inside, then he can turn him and compel him to do his bidding.” I hung my head in my hands. “But how, exactly, will baking help solve this problem?” I asked as I watched Cora crisply measure flour into a cup. A smudge of flour landed on her cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe it off.
“Vervain,” she said crisply. “We’ll bribe the guards with vervain-laced cookies, so they’ll be protected from compulsion when Samuel arrives. I think Damon still has some lying around. I saw it in his pack upstairs. It’s in a vial—be a dear and get it?” she asked sweetly.
I happily obliged, glad someone was able to come up with a plan. Sure enough, Damon had several vials of vervain, along with a crossbow and wooden bullets. He was well stocked for a vampire battle. He should have brought that to the party, I thought darkly as I gingerly grabbed the vervain bottles and brought them downstairs.
I placed the vials on the kitchen counter and then moved as far away as possible. Even through the glass, the herb caused my eyes to water and my fingers to sting.
“Two eggs, then? They’re in the icebox behind you,” Cora dictated.
I passed the eggs to her and she expertly cracked them in the bowl before taking the vervain out of the vial. She bit her lip and squinted at the bright purple blossoms. “Should I pretend they’re berries? I’m not sure how many to put in.”
“Well, I guess as much as possible. Remember, humans can’t taste vervain, so it doesn’t matter,” I said.
“We can’t take any chances or make any assumptions,” Cora said. “Every part of a plan has a purpose. For all we know, he could simply kill the guards when he can’t compel them. In which case, we need to make sure we bring stakes to attack. It won’t be ideal, but it’ll have to do.”
She had a point. Everything was important. I began to have the faintest glimmer of hope that this plan, as crazy as it was, might just work. “How else can I help?” I asked.
“Just watch,” Cora said. “I like having company in the kitchen. Violet and I always used to cook together.”
“I’m sorry,” I said automatically as soon as she mentioned Violet’s name.
Cora turned to me, holding her spoon as if it were a weapon. Despite myself, I laughed at her serious demeanor.
“Stop it! You could say ‘I’m sorry’ for eternity. But you didn’t do any of this. Samuel did. And he’ll be stopped.” As if to prove her point, she put the spoon down, picked up a knife, and cleanly sliced through a stick of butter.
Just then, the door burst open and Damon walked in. He was still in his tuxedo, but his bow tie was hanging loosely around his neck.
“Hello!” he said, walking into the kitchen and surveying the scene. “What is this? Have we abandoned revenge to open up a bakery? How quaint!” Damon’s sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. He peered into Cora’s bowl.
“None for you,” Cora swatted his hand away. “Stefan and I have a plan.”