Stefan's Diaries: The Ripper

Chapter Five

 
I n that moment, staring at the bloody message, time stood still. Or rather, time flew backward, back twenty years and across the ocean, until I was in the formal drawing room of the Sutherlands' Central Park mansion, surrounded by carnage, gazing at a similarly garish, violent message.
Damon had been by my side back then, and it was at that moment I realized that the two of us were truly just babes in the woods, boys masquerading as monsters. When we saw the message written in the Sutherlands' blood, we'd finally grasped that evil beyond our imaginations existed.
And it had only gotten worse. When Lucius, the minion of Klaus, had found and captured Damon and me, he'd entombed us in a mausoleum as if we were buried alive, heedless of our cries. Klaus and his ilk were Originals, creatures straight from hell who didn't even have the smallest memory of human kindness, and, as such, there was no end to their evil. And now one of them was after me.
But for a moment, I felt something else inside me. It was a flickering sensation, so subtle and foreign I barely noticed it. Until I realized what it was. It was hope.
This time, I wasn't unprepared. I was older, wiser, stronger. I could stop them.
I would make sure of that.
"Violet!" I said sharply, my hand stil firm against her mouth. She stared at me with wild, unseeing eyes.
"I'm Stefan. From the bar. You can trust me. You have to trust me," I said urgently. The edge of the park was only a hundred yards away. It would only take a few seconds to get out using vampire speed. I felt unsafe here. I didn't feel much safer in London's claustrophobic streets, but at least there, with pedestrians nearby, the kil er would be less likely to strike. "We need to leave." She took a deep breath, but continued to struggle against my grip. "Violet, listen to me," I said, summoning my Power. I heard a snap of a twig in the forest and I jumped. We had no time. Klaus could be anywhere. "Violet, trust me. You wil be quiet, and you wil listen to me. Is that understood?"
I felt my thoughts reach her mind, and I sensed the moment when her brain seemed to yield. I nodded to try to speed the process.
Then I saw a flicker in her eyes. I wasn't sure if my compulsion had worked or if it was exhaustion, but I had to believe it. I took my hand off her mouth and she blinked dazedly at me.
"You'l be safe with me. We have to leave the park. I'l carry you," I explained as I picked Violet up and draped her over my shoulders. I sped out of the woods and darted into the streets. Faster and faster, I ran on the uneven cobblestones, always fol owing the Thames River, its glassy surface reflecting the moon and the stars. I ran through al eys and back streets until we reached a part of the city with plenty of gas lamps and pedestrians.
Even at this late hour, they were walking the streets as though it were broad daylight. I al owed myself to stop, ducking under an awning. Despite the heat that stil clung to the late-summer night, the women had furs draped over their bare shoulders while the men were wearing top hats and three-piece suits. Dozens of marquees lit up either side of every street.
I al owed Violet to slip off my shoulders and the two of us stood, facing each other, as throngs of pedestrians passed on either side of us.
Immediately, Violet began to panic again, and I could tel she wanted to scream, with only my compulsion holding her back.
"Shhh!" I tried to calm her. "Shhh!" I said again, rubbing her shoulders. A few passersby turned to stare.
"Listen to me," I whispered, hoping that she'd take a hint from my lowered voice. "You're safe. I'm your friend." She continued to sniffle. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair was tangled in thick vines around her freckled face. "You're safe," I said, not breaking eye contact. She nodded slowly.
"You have to trust me. Can you do that, Violet? Remember, I'm a good man. You said so yourself." I fished in my pocket and pul ed out a white handkerchief, just purchased from the tailor. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
I handed it to her and Violet whimpered noisily. The few passersby who'd stopped to watch us on the street continued walking, obviously satisfied that nothing untoward was happening between us.
I let go of her, not wanting to compel her for a second longer than necessary. She seemed so innocent that I felt guilty for doing it, even though I knew it was for her own good.
"St-St-Stefan . . ." she said, gasping for breath. "The blood . . . and the words . . . was it the murderer?" Her voice broke into another wail. She was bordering on hysteria again.
"Shhh," I said, trying to make my voice sound like the soothing whoosh of waves I'd heard on the boat to Britain. "Shhh," I repeated.
Violet sucked in her breath. "What if he has my sister? She's been missing since yesterday, and I haven't heard from her. And I thought . . ."
"He doesn't," I said firmly, wishing I knew that were true.
"I can't go back to the tavern," Violet said in a smal voice.
"There's no need," I said, gently holding her wrist and pul ing her toward the side of the street. In the dim light of a gas lamp she looked pale and drawn, and I felt a surge of sympathy toward her. Right now, I was al she had. "We'l find you a place to sleep," I decided, turning my mind back to the matters at hand.
"But I've got no money," she said worriedly, her hands searching the pockets of her pinafore.
"Don't worry. You're with me," I said, glancing around at the lights that cut through the fog, searching for a hotel or tavern where we could take our bearings. A sign down the street caught my eye: CUMBERLAND HOTEL.
"Let's go there," I suggested as I led Violet across the street. Together, we marched up the red carpet - covered marble steps and through the gilt-gold doors, held open by a butler in a three-piece suit. With Lexi, I'd spent some time at some of the finest hotels in America, but I quickly realized that this establishment was on an entirely different level. Fresh-cut flowers were placed in large crystal bowls on every polished, gleaming surface, and the chandeliers were heavy gold. The man behind the desk glanced suspiciously at Violet and me.
"May I help you, sir?" he asked, his voice barely containing his disgust at her disheveled appearance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman in a silver chiffon gown with a train glide up the stairs, fol owed by two servants. At the corner bar, two men in tuxedos were draining crystal tumblers of whiskey. I felt my shoulders relax. For now, we were safe.
"Sir?" the man behind the desk prompted.
"Yes." I cleared my throat. I needed to pul myself together to successful y compel him. It was one thing to compel someone who was half-starved and hysterical, and entirely another to compel a man in charge of his wits.
"Yes, you may help me," I said, confidently stepping up to the marble-topped counter while a terrified Violet trailed behind me. The lighting in the old-fashioned lobby was dim, with dozens of candelabra giving the room in an orange glow that cast large, hulking shadows on the wal s. Every time one of the shadows moved, I glanced over my shoulder.
"What may I do for you?" the man behind the desk prompted pointedly.
I squared my shoulders and looked into his beady, gray eyes. I concentrated on the pupils, al owing my gaze to center in until the blackness was al I could see. "We need a room."
"I'm sorry. We don't have any rooms available for tonight," the man said.
"I know it's short notice, but there must be a room reserved for when royalty come to visit. My wife and I need that room," I said.
"But Stefan!" Violet squeaked behind me. Without breaking eye contact, I gently placed my foot on top of hers in warning. I'd learned the trick of asking for a room reserved for VIP guests from Lexi. It always worked.
"The best room," I added for emphasis.
"The best room," he said slowly, shuffling some papers. "Of course. The Queen Victoria Suite. She's stayed there, you know," he said.
"Good. Wel then I imagine we shal love it just as much as she did," I said, affecting a bit of a British accent.
"I do hope so, Mr. . . . um . . ."
"Pine," I said, using the first name that popped into my head. Hurry up, I thought under my breath. I knew I was quickly losing Power. After al , it had been almost a day since I'd eaten properly. "I shal need the room for at least a week," I added, hoping that I'd be far away before the week was out.
The man behind the desk nodded, and I smiled. I could stil compel. I stil had my Power. And I had twenty years of wisdom under my belt. I hadn't been ready to fight Klaus back then, but now it would be different.
"The porter shal show you your room," the man said. "And do you and your wife have any bags?" I shook my head. Instantaneously, a tal , morose-looking butler walked around the desk and held out his arm to Violet.
"And sir?" I said, lowering my voice so no one, not even Violet, would hear. "Just put it on my account."
"Of course, sir," the desk clerk said, sliding a heavy iron key across the counter. "Enjoy your stay." I smiled tersely and fol owed the porter and Violet up the sweeping staircase, winding past floors until we stopped in front of a white door. It was the only door on the entire level.
"Al ow me," the porter said, taking the key from my hand and putting it in the lock. He grandly swung the door open, then, placing a silver candleholder on a cherry-wood desk, quickly set to work lighting the various lamps in the room.
"Oh!" Violet trembled, clapping her hands to her mouth.
"Thank you." I nodded to the porter, pul ing a shil ing from my threadbare pocket. He took it in his palm and eyed me curiously. I hadn't compel ed him, and I knew the fact we were practical y wearing rags, and were without luggage, piqued his curiosity.
The door creaked shut and I locked it behind him.
"Stefan?" Violet asked tentatively, staring around the room in wonder. She walked in a circle, touching the heavy velvet curtains, the oak desk, and the floral-papered wal s, as if scarcely believing any of it was real.
"We're okay now. It's late, we should both get some rest," I said, gesturing toward the enormous bed in the center of the main room. "I'l just be in the next room. We can talk in the morning."
"Goodnight, Stefan. And thank you." She gave me a smal , tired smile and stepped toward the bed. I closed the door with a click and settled onto a couch in the adjacent room, which was set up like a sitting room. And sit I did. My mind reeled, and I couldn't even begin to pick apart the questions I needed to focus on. What was I going to do with Violet? What could I do about Klaus? Or Lucius? Part of me simply wanted to pick up and head back to Ivinghoe, where the only thing I had to concern myself with was a cow that had kicked over the pasture fence. But another part of me knew I was bound to London. I was a part of this now. Until I solved the mystery of the murder, more people would get kil ed.
Terrifying thoughts kept turning in my head as night turned into day. Below me, the wel -lit streets looked orderly and tidy: modern civilization at its finest. Even the rain-slicked surface looked somehow stately. But I knew it was al an il usion. Vampires struck anywhere, and just because this one had chosen the bad part of town didn't mean he wouldn't come here next.
Final y, the sun rose, burning off some of the thick clouds. The door creaked open, providing a much-needed interruption from my endlessly cycling thoughts.
"Hel o?" I cal ed hesitantly. I stil felt on edge, and any noise caused a tingling in my gums, a subtle reminder that I was ready to fight at any moment.
"Stefan?" Violet said shyly, stepping into the room. Her red hair was pul ed up in a bun on top of her head and her pinafore looked brighter than it had last night, making me guess she'd rinsed it in the opulent washroom. Her eyes were sparkling and her hair, I realized now in the light, was flecked with gold.
"Violet," I said, rising unsteadily to my feet. I ignored the hunger pangs in my stomach.
"Did you sleep?" Violet asked, settling onto the couch and pul ing her legs underneath her. I crossed the room and perched on the wooden desk chair opposite her.
I shook my head. "I had a lot on my mind," I said, clenching and unclenching my jaw. Every part of my body ached, although whether it was from the terror of last night or from our flight through London, I couldn't tel .
"I did, too," Violet confessed, sighing sadly as she cradled her head in her hands. "My sister . . . I'm so worried about her," she said final y.
"What happened to her?" I asked. Just hours ago, I was hoping Damon wasn't responsible for these deaths and disappearances. Now, I was hoping against hope he was. Damon had been known to compel women for his own amusement. If he'd done it to Cora, wel , that would mean she was stil alive. But if Klaus or Lucius had found her . . . I shivered.
"That's the very thing. I just don't know. She went to work at the Ten Bel s two nights ago, and then she didn't come home. Then the murder happened . . . and everyone said . . ." Violet's lips twisted into a grimace, but she forged ahead. "They said that maybe she didn't come home because she went home with someone else. That she went home with a man, like some of the girls at the tavern do," Violet said, a crimson flush crossing her face. "But Cora isn't like that. And I'm not like that. I tried tel ing Alfred and an officer who came in that Cora wouldn't have just gone off with someone, that she was missing. But they didn't do anything," she said sadly, knitting her fingers together as she stared at the ground.
"Why not?" I asked. I felt angry that no one was taking Violet's concerns seriously. After al , she was just an innocent young girl, worried about her sister.
Violet shook her head. "The police said they can't do anything until they find a body. They said she's a grown woman and she can go where she pleases. I'm just so worried." Violet sighed.
"But if Cora were kil ed . . ." I began, trying to reassure her with the conclusion I'd come to last night, "surely her body would have been found."
"Don't say that!" Violet said sharply. "I'm sorry," she added instantly. "I just hate hearing it. But yes, you're right. If she was kil ed, they would have found . . . something," she said, shuddering. I nodded, silently agreeing. "But I haven't heard anything. No one has. And that's just the thing. She wouldn't have left without tel ing me. It isn't like her."
"People change," I said helplessly, unsure what I could say to try to comfort Violet.
"But Cora is my sister," Violet insisted. "We came over here together six months ago. We'd never leave each other. We're al we have in the world. We're blood."
"Where did you come from?" I asked, trying not to cringe at the word blood.
"Ireland," Violet said with a faraway gaze in her eyes. "Just a tiny town near Donegal. Al it has is a church and a pub, and we both knew we couldn't stay there. Our parents did, too. Our father used everything he had to send us both here. Thought we'd marry, start families, never have to worry about going hungry . . ." Violet laughed a short, harsh bark that was so at odds with her sweet and innocent personality that I flinched. Despite her youthful appearance, she'd obviously led a rough life.
"And life didn't work out as planned," I said slowly. I could relate al too wel .
Violet nodded, her expression bereft. "We thought we'd become actresses or singers. Wel , I did. Cora did it more for a laugh. But I thought I'd get a part in the chorus of a show," she said thoughtful y. "And we tried, but we just got laughed out of the auditions. Then we thought that we could become shop girls. But as soon as anyone saw our clothes and heard our accents, they turned us away. We just kept walking and walking around the city, talking to anyone with an Irish accent. We final y met a girl, Mary Francis, who was cousins with a boy from our town. She worked at the tavern and told us she'd put a word in with Alfred. So we went, and Alfred liked Cora right away. But he said I looked too young. So I was put to work in the back as a scul ery maid."
I must have grimaced, because a shadow of a smile crossed Violet's face.
"I felt worse for Cora. She used to have to flirt with Alfred. I know that's why he gave me a job, and why he let us rent a room. We'd get into bed at the end of a long night and tel each other stories about our day. She always said that working in the tavern could maybe be helpful for me one day. It's al studying characters and seeing how they interact. She thought if we made enough money, we could try again to be actresses. She never gave up."
"Did you?" I asked gently.
"Wel , at a certain point, you realize dreams are just that - dreams. I think sometimes that I should just accept it. Do you know this is the closest I've gotten to the theater since I've been here?" she asked, gazing out the window at the marquees nearby. "And Cora . . ." She shook her head.
"Where is she?" she cried, burying her face in her tiny hands. "Things are so desperate that I can't even begin to think about them. I just keep hoping Cora found a better life. Not in heaven. I mean, here. A better life here. And maybe she didn't tel me because she didn't want me to be hurt or jealous? It's the only thing I can think of," Violet said, stil hiding her face with her hands.
"I know Cora's safe." Of course I didn't know that at al , but as soon as I said it, I saw Violet's shoulders relax. I felt sad for this girl, who truly didn't have a friend in the world. I wished that I could help her. Suddenly, I had an idea.
"Here's what I can do," I said. "I can get you the job back, and I can also guarantee Alfred won't bother you. I can't promise the job wil be ideal, but I can promise that it wil be better than it was before," I said, knowing I'd have to find somewhere to feed before I would be able to effectively compel Alfred.
"Thank you," Violet said. A slight smile played on her lips. "In my country, on Saint Stephen's Day we honor the saint who protects the poor," she said. "And I think it's come early for me this year. Thank you, Saint Stefan." I looked away, uncomfortable with her adoration. If she only knew my true nature, she'd be praying to her saint for protection from me. "Don't thank me. Just stay here and rest up. I'l go and speak with Alfred and find out what I can about Cora," I said.
"I should come," Violet said definitively, rising to her feet.
I shook my head. "It won't be safe."
"But if it's not safe, then what about you?" Violet asked in a smal voice. "I shan't forgive myself if anything happened to you while you were out on account of me."
"Nothing wil happen to me," I said, wishing that were true. "I'm not afraid to fight. But I won't have to. Everything wil be fine."
"It's funny, but I believe everything you say," Violet said dreamily. "But I don't even know you. Who are you?"
"I'm Stefan Sa - I'm Stefan," I said. I refrained from saying my last name, worried it might scare her because of last night's message. "I'm from America. And I know what it's like to be alone. I left my family. It's hard." Violet nodded. "Do you miss them?"
"Sometimes. I worry about them," I said. That was true.
"Wel , then I suppose we're kindred spirits," Violet said. "You truly saved me. I don't know what I would have done in the park, there, by myself."
"Did you . . . see anyone?" I asked. It was the question I hadn't asked her last night. But now, in the light of day, I needed to know.
She shook her head. "I don't think so. It was so dark, and I could barely see in front of me. But I felt the wind pick up, and then I saw the trees moving. When I glanced over, I saw that awful message. And I knew it was written in blood. I felt something. I felt . . ." She shuddered.
"What did you feel?" I asked gently.
Violet sighed, distress obvious on her face. "I felt like I was surrounded by evil. Something was there. I thought I was going to be attacked, and then you came and - "
"I brought you here," I said quickly. I knew exactly how she felt. It was a feeling I suffered from back in New York, when I was sure Klaus was near.
I fumbled in my pocket. "And now, your Saint Stefan has one more thing for you. Take this," I said, pressing a pendant into her hand. It was a vial of vervain on a gold chain.
"What is it?" she asked, swinging the pendant back and forth. It caught the flickering light of the candle on the table.
"A good luck charm," I said. Vervain was poisonous to me, and I could stil feel its effects through the glass barrier of the vial. But I carried it everywhere. So far, I'd never had to use it. And I only hoped that Violet wouldn't have to, either.
"I need luck," Violet said, clasping the pendant around her neck. As long as she had that, she couldn't be compel ed, not even by me. We now were ful y bound to each other by trust alone.
"So do I," I said.
And then, she stood up on her tiptoes and al owed her lips to graze my cheek. "To luck," she whispered in my ear.
I grinned at her. Hel itself may have been hunting these streets, but at least I had a friend. And as I'd learned in my long life, that was no smal thing.