thought back to Rosalyn, but this time, instead of remembering her eyes, I remembered the blood on her throat, having flowed from the two precise circles on the side of her neck. I touched my own neck, feeling the pulse of blood beneath my skin. The rush below my fingers sped up as I felt my heart skip a beat. Could Father be … right?
“Father means that he’s been spending too much time listening to the church ladies tell their tales. Father, this is a story that would be told to scare a child. And not a very clever one.
Everything you’re saying is nonsense.” Damon shook his head and angrily stood from his perch on the tree stump. “I will not sit around and be told ghost stories.” With that, he turned on his goldbuttoned boot and swung his foot up over Jake’s back, gazing down at Father, as if daring him to say one more thing.
“Mark my words,” Father said, taking a step closer to me. “Vampires are among us. They look like us and can live among us, but they are not who we are. They drink blood. It is their elixir of life. They do not have souls, and they never die.
They are forever immortal.”
The word immortal made me suck in my breath. The wind changed, and the leaves began rustling. I shivered. “Vampires,” I repeated slowly.
I’d heard the word once before, when Damon and I were schoolchildren and used to gather on the Wickery Bridge, trying to scare our friends. One boy had told us of seeing a figure kneeling down in the woods, feasting on the neck of a deer. The boy told us he had screamed and the figure had turned to him with hellred eyes, blood dripping from long, sharp teeth. A vampire, he said with conviction, glancing around the circle to see if he’d impressed any of us. But because he’d been pale and scrawny and not any good at shooting, we’d laughed and mocked him mercilessly. He and his family had moved to Richmond the next year.
“Well, I’d take vampires over an insane father,” Damon said, kicking Jake’s flanks and riding off into the sunset. I turned toward Father, expecting an angry tirade. But Father simply shook his head.
“Do you believe me, son?” he asked.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what I believed. All I knew was that somehow, in the past week, the whole world had changed, and I wasn’t sure where I fit in anymore.
“Good.” Father nodded as we rode out of the forest and onto the bridge. “We must be careful. It seems the war has awakened the vampires. It’s as if they can smell blood.”
The word blood echoed in my mind as we directed our horses to walk away from the cemetery and toward the shortcut through the fields that would lead to the pond. In the distance, I could see the sun reflecting on the pond’s surface.
No one would ever imagine this verdant, rolling land as being a place where demons walked.
Demons, if they existed at all, belonged in the old country, amid the decrepit churches and castles Father had grown up with. All the words Father said were familiar, but they sounded so strange in the place where he was saying them.
Father glanced around as if to make sure no one was hiding in the bushes near the bridge. The horses were walking alongside the graveyard now, the headstones bright and imposing in the warm summer light. “Blood is what they feed on. It gives them power.”
“But then …,” I said, as the information whirled in my brain. “If they are immortal, then how are we to …”
“Kill them?” Father asked, finishing my thought.
He pulled the reins on his horse. “There are methods. I’ve been learning. I’ve heard there’s a priest in Richmond who can try to exorcise them, but then people in town know … some things,” he finished. “Jonathan Gilbert and Sheriff Forbes and I have discussed some preliminary measures.” “If there’s anything I can do …,” I offered finally, unsure what to say.
“Of course,” Father said brusquely. “I expect you to be part of our committee. For starters, I’ve been talking to Cordelia. She knows her herbs, and she says there’s a plant called vervain.”
Father’s hand fluttered to the flower on his lapel.
“We will come up with a plan. And we will prevail.
Because while they may have immortality, we have God on our side. It is kill or be killed. Do you understand me, boy? This is the war you’re being drafted to fight.”
I nodded, feeling the full weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. Maybe this was what I was meant to be doing: not getting married or going off to war, but fighting an unnatural evil. I met Father’s gaze.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” I said. “Anything.”
The last thing I saw before I galloped back to the stable was the huge grin on Father’s face. “I knew you would, son. You are a true Salvatore.”
I walked back to my room, unsure what to think. Vampiros. Vampires. The word sounded wrong, no matter what language it was in.
Coyotes. That was a word that made sense. After all, a coyote was just like a wolf, a wild animal drawn to the confusing tangle of the deep Virginia woods. If Rosalyn was killed by a coyote, it would be tragic, but understandable. But for Rosalyn to be killed by a demon?
I laughed, the sound coming out like a short bark as I strode into my bedroom and sat with my head in my hands. My headache had returned with renewed vigor, and I remembered Emily’s request that I not eat Cordelia’s cooking. On top of everything else, it seemed the servants were turning on each other.
Suddenly, I heard three soft raps on the door.
The sound was so slight it might be the wind, which had shown no sign of stopping since we got back from the woods.
“Hello?” I called hesitantly.
The raps started again, more insistently this time. On the other side of the room, the cotton curtains blew violently in the wind.
“Alfred?” I called, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Father’s tale had definitely affected me. “I won’t be needing dinner,” I called loudly.
I grabbed a letter opener from my desk and held it behind my back as I headed cautiously toward the door. But just as I placed my hand on the doorknob, the door began to swing inward.
“This isn’t funny!” I called, half hysterical, when all of a sudden, a figure in pale blue slipped into the room.
Katherine.
“Good, because humor has never been one of my strong points,” Katherine said, her smile revealing her straight, white teeth.
“I’m sorry.” I blushed and hastily dropped the letter opener onto the desk. “I’m just …”
“You’re still recovering.” Katherine’s brown eyes locked with my own. “I’m sorry to startle you.”
She sat down on the center of my bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Your brother’s worried about you.”
“Oh …,” I stammered. I couldn’t believe that Katherine Pierce had come into my bedroom and was sitting on my bed, as if it were perfectly normal. No woman, except my mother and Cordelia, had ever been in my sleeping chambers. I was suddenly embarrassed by my muddy boots in one corner, the pile of china dishes in another, and the Shakespeare volume still open on the desk.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Katherine asked.
I stood at the door, clutching the brass doorknob. “Maybe?” I asked hesitantly.
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” She beckoned me with her finger. Townspeople were scandalized if a couple went walking to the Wickery Bridge without a chaperone. But here Katherine was without a chaperone—or stockings, for that matter —perched on my bed, asking me to join her there.
There was no way I could resist that.
I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.
Immediately she flipped onto her hands and knees and crawled over to me. Pushing her hair over one shoulder, she cupped my ear with her hand.
