Лиза Смит - Origins

Stefan’s remedies; then when I went to pick it this morning, it was all gone. Was probably the children who took it,” Cordelia said indignantly, but she glanced straight at me. I looked away, reassuring myself that if she had known about Katherine’s true nature, she would have told my father by now.

“Well, then, where do I get some?” Honoria asked.

“It’s probably right under your nose,” Cordelia said.

“What?” asked Honoria sharply, as if she’d been insulted.

“It grows everywhere. Except our garden,” Cordelia said darkly.

“Well,” Father said, glancing at the two women, anxious to diffuse the situation. “After this meeting, Cordelia may escort Miss Honoria to her garden to find vervain.”

“Now, wait just a damn minute,” Mayor Lockwood said, pounding his beefy fist on the table. “You lost me at the woman talk. You mean to tell me that if I wear a lilac sprig, then the demons will leave me alone?” He snorted.

“Vervain, not lilac,” Cordelia explained. “It keeps evil away.”

“Yes,” Father said sagely. “And everyone in town must wear it. See to it, Mayor Lockwood.

That way, not only will our citizens be protected, but anyone who does not wear it will be exposed as a vampire and can then be burned,” Father said, his voice so smooth and matter-of-fact that it took every ounce of self-control for me not to stand up, rush down the shaky ladder, find Katherine, and run away with her.

But if I did that, and if Katherine was as dangerous as the Founders thought … I felt like a trapped animal, unable to find any escape. Was I trapped with the enemy right now, or was the enemy back at Veritas? I knew that, beneath my shirt collar, the wound on my neck was beginning to ooze specks of blood, and it would only be a matter of time before they soaked through the fabric and stood out as a visible reminder of my betrayal.

Mayor Lockwood shifted uneasily, causing the chair to creak. I jumped. “Now, if the herb works, that’s one thing. But we’re in the middle of a war.

We’ve got a lot of Confederate government officials passing through Mystic Falls on their way to Richmond, and if word gets out that instead of aiding the cause we’re fighting storybook creatures with flowers …” He shook his head. “We cannot issue an edict that everyone wear vervain.”

“Oh, really? Then how do we know you’re not a vampire?” Father demanded.

“Father!” I interjected. Someone had to bring a voice of reason into the discussion. “Mayor Lockwood is right. We need to think calmly.

Rationally.”

“Your son has a good head on his shoulders,” Mayor Lockwood said grudgingly.

“A better head than yours,” Father mumbled.

“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.”