“Well … we can discuss vervain later. Honoria, you’ll be in charge of making sure that we have a ready supply, and we can strongly encourage those we love to wear it. But for now, I want to discuss other ways we can find the vampires that walk among us,” Jonathan Gilbert said excitedly, unfolding large sheets of paper onto the table.
Mayor Lockwood put his bifocals on his nose and peered at the papers, which had complicated mechanical drawings on them.
“This here looks like a compass,” Mayor Lockwood said finally, pointing to a complicated drawing.
“It is! But instead of finding north, it finds vampires,” Jonathan said, barely containing his excitement. “I’m working on the prototype. It just needs a bit more fine-tuning. It’s able to detect blood. The blood of others,” he said meaningfully.
“Can I see that, Mr. Jonathan?” Cordelia asked.
Jonathan looked up, surprised, but handed her the papers. She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “The prototype.”
“Oh, ah, well, it’s very rough,” Jonathan said as he fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out a shiny metal object that looked more like a child’s trinket than a tool for finding victims.
Cordelia turned the compass slowly in her hands. “It works?”
“Well …”—Jonathan shrugged—“it will work.”
“Here’s what I propose,” Father said, leaning back on his chair. “We arm ourselves with vervain.
We work day and night to get the compass to work. And we make a plan. We set up a siege, and by month’s end our town will be clear.” Father crossed his arms in satisfaction. One by one, every member of the group, including Cordelia, nodded their heads.
I shifted on the wooden chair, holding my hand against my neck. The attic was hot and sticky, and flies were buzzing in the rafters, as if it were the middle of July rather than the middle of September. I desperately needed a glass of water, and I felt like the room was going to collapse in on me. I needed to see Katherine again, to remind myself that she wasn’t a monster.
My breathing became shallow, and I felt that if I stayed here, I would say something I didn’t mean.
“I think I’m feeling faint,” I heard myself say, even though the words rang false even to my ears.
Father looked at me sharply. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but Honoria clucked out sympathetic noises.
Father cleared his throat. “I’ll see my boy out,” he announced to the room before following me down the rickety ladder.
“Stefan,” Father said, grabbing my shoulder just as I opened the door that would lead back to a world I understood.
“What?” I gasped.
“Remember. Not a word of this to anyone.
Even Damon. Not until he comes to his senses.
Except I think his senses may be taken with our Katherine,” Father muttered, half to himself as he let go of my arm. I stiffened at the mention of Katherine’s name, but when I turned around, Father’s back was toward me as he headed into the house.
I walked back through town, wishing I’d ridden Mezzanotte instead of coming in the carriage.
Now I had no choice but to walk home. I turned to my left, deciding to cut through the forest. I simply couldn’t interact with any more humans today.
That night, Damon invited me to play cards with some of his soldier friends, who were camped out for the moment in Leestown, twenty miles away.
“I may not agree with them, but damn, can they play a good hand and drink a good pint,” Damon said.
I’d found myself agreeing, eager to avoid Father and any questions about vampires. But by the time twilight rolled around and I hadn’t seen any sign of Katherine or Emily, I wished that I hadn’t agreed to accompany Damon. My mind was still jumbled, and I wanted a night with Katherine to reassure me that my desire was leading me in the right direction. I loved her, but the practical, sensible side of me was having trouble disobeying Father.
“Ready?” Damon asked, clad in his Confederate uniform, when he stopped by my bedroom at twilight.
I nodded. It was too late to say no.
“Good.” He grinned and clattered down the stairs. I glanced wistfully out the window toward the carriage house, then followed him.
“We’re going out to the camp,” Damon yelled as we passed by Father’s study.
“Wait!” Father emerged from the study into the living room, several long branches filled with tiny, lilac-like purple flowers in his arms. Vervain.
“Wear this,” he commanded, tucking a sprig into each of our breast pockets.
“You shouldn’t have, Father,” Damon said tersely, as he plucked the sprig out of his pocket and shoved it into his breeches pocket.
“I’ve given you latitude, son, and given you a roof. Now all I ask is that you do this,” Father said, slamming his meaty fist into his palm so hard, I saw him wince. Thankfully, Damon, usually so quick to pounce at any sign of weakness, didn’t notice.
“Fine, Father.” Damon shrugged easily and spread his arms as if in defeat. “I would be honored to wear your flower for you.”
Father’s eyes flickered with rage, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply broke off another sprig and tucked it into Damon’s coat pocket.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as I accepted my own branch. My statement of thanks was less for the flower and more for Father showing mercy on Damon.
“Be careful, boys,” Father said, before retreating to his study.
Damon rolled his eyes as we walked outside.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on him,” I mumbled, shivering in the night air. The summer-like day had become a chilly fall evening, but the mist that had been everywhere last night had lifted, giving us a crystal-clear view of the moon.
“Why not? He’s hard on us.” Damon snorted as he led the way to the stable. Mezzanotte and Jake were already bridled and stamping their hooves impatiently. “I had Alfred get everything ready. Thought we’d need a quick getaway.”
Damon swung his leg over Jake’s back, then galloped him down the path and turned in the direction opposite of town. We rode in silence for at least a half hour. With just the sound of the hooves and the sight of the moon peeking through the dense foliage, it felt like we were riding into a dream.
Finally, we began to hear sounds of flutes playing and laughter and the occasional gunshot.
Damon directed us up over a hill toward a clearing. Tents were set up all over, and a piper played in the corner. Men were walking around, and dogs were stationed at the entrance. It was as if we’d arrived at a mysterious, hidden party.
“Hello, sir?” Two Confederate soldiers came up to us, their rifles pointed toward us. Mezzanotte took a few steps back and whinnied nervously.
“Soldier Damon Salvatore, sir! Here on leave from General Groom’s camp down in Atlanta.”
Immediately, the two soldiers relaxed their rifles and tipped their hats at us.
“Sorry ’bout that, soldier. We’re gearin’ up for battle, and we’re losing our men like flies, before they even hit the battlefield,” the taller soldier said, stepping up to pat Jake.
“Yes, and not because of typhus,” the other, smaller, mustachioed soldier said, obviously pleased to share this information with us.
“Killings?” Damon asked tersely.
“How’d you know?” the first guard asked, stroking his rifle. I glanced at the ground, unsure what to do. I felt that Damon was getting us into a dangerous situation, but I didn’t know what I could do to fix it.
“My brother and I are coming from Mystic Falls,” Damon said, jerking his thumb back as if to prove that was the direction we came from. “The next town over, past the forest. We’ve had some of our own trouble. People are saying it’s some type of animal.”
