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    The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #4: The Ripper
    The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #4: The Ripper
    The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #4: The Ripper
    Ebook208 pages3 hours

    The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #4: The Ripper

    By L. J. Smith and Kevin Williamson & Julie Plec

    3/5

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    The fourth book in the New York Times bestselling series by L.J. Smith.

    The Ripper is the fourth book in L.J. Smith’s bestselling Stefan’s Diaries series, which reveals the backstory of brothers Stefan and Damon from The Vampire Diaries series. This digital edition features cover artwork from the hit CW TV series The Vampire Diaries, starring Nina Dobrev, Paul Wesley, and Ian Somerhalder.

    Twenty years have passed since Stefan Salvatore last saw his brother, Damon. Now living in a remote town in England, far away from the haunting memories of Mystic Falls, Stefan is finally able to start over. But when news from London reaches Stefan of a brutal killer on the loose—who goes by Jack the Ripper—Stefan suspects that the murders are the work of a vampire…his brother.

    Full of dark shadows and surprising twists, the fourth book in the New York Times bestselling Stefan’s Diaries series raises the stakes for the Salvatore brothers as they face new loves, old treacheries, and unimaginable threats. Fans of L. J. Smith’s New York Times bestselling Vampire Diaries series as well as the hit television show won’t be able to put the latest Salvatore adventure down.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperTeen
    Release dateNov 8, 2011
    ISBN9780062113948
    Author

    L. J. Smith

    L. J. Smith has written over two dozen books for young adults, including The Vampire Diaries, now a hit TV show. She has also written the bestselling Night World series and The Forbidden Game, as well as the #1 New York Times bestselling Dark Visions. She loves to walk the trails and beaches in Point Reyes, California, daydreaming about her latest book.

    Read more from L. J. Smith

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    Reviews for The Vampire Diaries

    3/5

    276 ratings36 reviews

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    • 3/5
      good, fast read.
    • 4/5
      A mystery novel by Isabel Allende set in San Fransisco
    • 3/5
      Allende’s sweeping literary style that suits her so well does not suit a modern murder mystery. The pacing and character development are just off, and while I was engaged with the first half, the second half sort of falls apart. If you like Allende for the style she’s known for, like I do, skip this one.
    • 2/5
      While this book was very well written, it was just not my cup of tea. I tend to lose interest when the story is too segmented between characters. I found this to be true in Ripper. I was also disappointed in there being little about the murders and the gaming group and much more about each character's psyche. I originally picked this book up because of the intrigue of the murder being related to the game. Much to my chagrin it fell very short of my expectations.
    • 1/5
      Ripper is an online who-done-it game with a difference. The game master is Amanda. Amanda is as introverted as she is intelligent, yet she likes to take charge. She and her on line group of fellow social misfits enjoy investigating long ago crimes coming up with their own solutions. When a local astrologer predicts that San Francisco is going to experience a “blood bath” the Ripper players decide to turn their attentions to modern day crime … aided by Amanda’s long suffering grandfather and any information Amanda gleans from her father, a homicide detective. It all sounds like an exciting mystery to solve until it hits too close to home and Amanda’s mother becomes a victim.

      I found the concept of these five on line friends forming the “Ripper” club to solve crimes on line intriguing and that description is what prompted me to pick up the book. As it turns out, much to my disappointment, that concept is not the center of the storyline, in fact it’s only what amounts to a miniscule part of the story at all. Amanda’s new-age mother and her disappointing love life, poorly paying career choice and absentmindedness take over the plot. That was too bad because I really didn’t like the character. Unfortunately I did not like most of the characters in this book. With the exception of Amanda’s grandfather (who she dearly loves but constantly treats like crap) I found all of the character’s self centered and rude to each other. Even the serial killer responsible for the “blood-bath” was so overly complicated that by the big reveal at the end, I didn’t care any more. I will say that Ms. Allende was very clever with her antagonist. Very clever but overdone!
    • 3/5
      Ripper was an interesting story, with a different story line, but alas it was not a page turner. I found myself distracted by even the slightest things, and this is quite unusual for me. I am an avid reader, who always has a book going... I'm not easily distracted! That said, I was invested enough to need closure, and that came with a couple twists and a very convoluted villain. This story is well worth a read, but is best suited for a flight or journey by train without distractions.
    • 4/5
      This is good beach reading - nothing very profound, but it's engaging and the characters are likeable, if a bit one-dimensional. This isn't a formulaic murder mystery - in fact, until the last few chapters, I wouldn't have characterized it as a mystery at all, but just a story with some murders in the background.I listened to the audiobook, and enjoyed it.
    • 2/5
      I am still in the beginning of this book, but I am already frustrated to the point that I may not be able to finish it. Reading is tiresome, there are too many characters and all them are weirdos with extraordinary life histories, even the dog is odd. When a character is approaching a restaurant I am getting anxious that pretty soon we will learn the whole amazing life story of a waitress and/or the building itself. As if the author prepared a lot of material ahead of time and couldn’t help but tell us all she knew. Overall instead of having a pleasure or leisurely reading an elegant story with subtle thoughts, as I was used to with this author, I feel as if I were cheated to read a comic, it is disappointing and overwhelming.
    • 1/5
      Whenever I am about to write a "not so great" review it pains me to no end. I have a great amount of respect for the process of writing and for the writers themselves. And to complicate things even more Isabel Allende is one of my all time favorite authors. The way she plays with words, the themes and stories she creates stay with me long after I've finished reading the book. I knew that Ripper would be a departure from her usual style and genre but I embraced the idea of that change. Yet in the end it felt like such a struggle just trying to convince myself to finish this book.Amanda, one of the main characters and the designated sleuth is supposed to be 17 years old yet I had to keep reminding myself of that fact because for the most part the character was described as so immature that it felt like she was closer to 12-13 than 17. The game Ripper revolves around a group of teenagers interested in solving crimes so I initially thought that maybe the book will lean more towards Y.A. Then at other moments it sounded as if the book is targeting primarily adult audiences. Almost as if the story itself could not decide what genre to follow.The pace of the story was excruciatingly slow and each time I found myself even remotely interested in the mystery part of the book, it would end up going on a tangent about something completely unrelated. I learned way more about the background of each one of the characters than about the crimes. Instead emotionally connected to the characters I found myself thinking - "Alright already, I really don't care. Can we get back to the story now?".The biggest source of my disappointment was the fact that I kept questioning the fact that Isabel Allende's name was on the cover of this book - it just did not seem possible that she would write something of this quality (or lack thereof). The writing felt so choppy and unfocused that as I mentioned before it took a lot of effort not to give up altogether on reading the book. I did soldier on but in the end the only positive thing I can say about the whole affair is that it might potentially make a decent TV show. I still love and respect Isabel Allende, but I wholeheartedly hope that she will go back to writing such unforgettable books as The House of the Spirits.
    • 2/5
      What have you done with Isabel Allende? I want her back. I miss the surreal mysticism, drama and passion that permeates each page from beginning to end. I am all for experimenting with writing style and genre, but if it does not work at the level one usually achieves, save it for future thought.Ouch! That was harsh and I do not mean to be nasty. Yet, had I wanted a basic who-done-it novel I would have chosen a different author with a better grasp of the subject matter. Ripper is far too prosaic for Allende. The plot is interesting in very general terms, it being a mystery. But, for the most part, it simply plods along getting stuck in the mud once too often. The characters have potential, but are not developed enough to sustain my curiosity. Much of the book dragged on and on, going on tedious tangents while avoiding the main idea. There was nothing, overall, that held my attention. In my defense, since I normally love Isabel Allende’s work, I did not look forward to my continued reading of Ripper. I had to force myself to do so each time I picked it up. Two-thirds of the way through, I had to admit defeat and put it away for good. No one is perfect one-hundred percent of the time. So, no, I will not give up on one of my favored authors. I will quietly wait in hope for her next great novel.
    • 4/5
      loved this ... such interesting characters
    • 3/5
      I didn't feel this book was up to the high standard of Allende's other books. It is partly a mystery and maybe Allende just wanted to explore what it was like to write in that genre. But also I just didn't connect with any of these characters and I don't know that I can say that of any of her other books. I know it wasn't because I was listening to this as an audiobook because I have read several of her books that way. It certainly wasn't the fault of the narrator. Edoardo Ballerini did an excellent job of switching voices and accents.Amanda Martin is a young teenager living with her mother, Indiana, and grandfather in San Francisco. Her father is a murder investigator with the SFPD (what a boon for a young girl who wants to investigate a murder). Amanda's godmother has forecast the SF will run with blood and a series of murders that seem to be connected are bearing out that prophecy. Amanda has just the software tool to investigate the claim (it is basically a chat room of like-minded teens). Then the man that her mother was going to marry is killed and Indiana goes missing. Everyone jumps on board the investigation wagon. You know what happens, right?I think Ms Allende should stick to literary fiction with a side of magical realism and leave the crime genre to people who can do it justice.
    • 2/5
      I was very disappointed by this book. Allende is one of my favourite authors and I was really interested to see what she would do with a "murder mystery" type of story. Unfortunately the novel is good in places but mainly turgid and boring. I kept reading because I wanted to know who 'did' it and why but in the end I figured it out well before the end of the book and it didn't seem particularly plausible. I think that was the main problem with the whole book - despite the extensive character backgrounds given for everyone, few of them came across as real-live people that I could relate to.
    • 3/5
      Picked up an AR copy of this somewhere. Was interested in it for several reasons: I like the author, I'd not read her YA stuff, and I left my heart in San Francisco. There were many elements in the book which I liked, starting with the author's explanation of how the book came to be. It made me aware of her husband's body of work, which, if I remember, I'll seek out. I liked that she incorporated elements of his books through characters and references in this one. As a someone who practices tai chi each morning, and have done Qigong, I liked that this practice was an essential piece of one character's life. It was also kinda fun to trace the paths through San Francisco, though I never got a feel of the city itself.
    • 3/5
      I started out really liking this book. I thought the daughter's character and her interaction with her Grandfather and the "Ripper" group really made the story. But, they just couldn't carry it through to the end
    • 3/5
      As always, I enjoyed Isabel Allende's writing . However, the theme seemed exciting when I picked up this book but soon left me cold.. I am not a huge murder mystery fan so not really my thing.
    • 2/5
      I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for giving Isabel Allende 2 stars. I love her, not just her writing, she seems like a complete and utter delight. This isn't a horrible book it just didn't make it to good for me. I enjoyed the aspects of the characters, especially the central familial characters, but the story felt over the top and conversely boring. It was kind of like watching a Bruckheimer film. They are exhilarating and boring in my view. But, a lot of people love those successful films. I think there is an audience who validly loves this book, but I just couldn't get fully into it.
    • 4/5
      Don't read it for the mystery, read it for the things which make an Allende novel so rich and satisfying: a large, diverse cast with complex backstories and complicated relationships. Solving the mystery is the driver of the plot, but it isn't compelling in the way that Amanda's relationship with her family is. The teen characters playing Ripper together aren't explored very deeply. But the adults are. There are the divorced but amiable parents, their respective partners, their parents, their siblings, friends, co-workers...

      Whodunnit is a piece of cake, but why is the story.

      Library copy
    • 3/5
      Isabel Allende devotes her talent to a murder mystery and investigation in her latest book, Ripper, a recommended novel.

      Ripper opens with the ominous warning from Amanda Martin concerning Indiana Jackson, her mother: "Mom is still alive, but she's going to be murdered at midnight on Good Friday..." Amanda and her mother are complete opposites in many ways but she shares a strong bond with Indiana, a holistic healer, and even more so with her grandfather, Blake Jackson. Amanda's father is Deputy Chief Bob Martin. Amanda plays an online role playing game called Ripper with 4 friends and her grandfather.

      After Amanda's astrologer godmother, Celeste Roko, predicts a bloodbath in San Francisco, the murder of Ed Stanton occurs. Amanda and her grandfather mark this as the first murder in the coming bloodbath and transform the online Ripper from a game into a criminal investigation as a series of murders take place in San Francisco. Since Amanda's father, Bob Martin, is leading the murder investigations, Amanda and her grandfather Blake have unprecedented access to all manner of inside information on the investigation from the police, which certainly will stretch believability for most crime aficionados. Feeling much younger than 17, Amanda repeatedly reminded me of Alan Bradley's young female sleuth, Flavia de Luce.

      Allende extensively covers the three months leading up to the threat to Indiana's life while thoroughly and exhaustively analyzing the eccentric cast of main characters. All of this results in making Ripper a rather unconventional murder mystery, but certainly a very enjoyable mystery. We are privy to a vast amount of inside information about many of the characters. Having never read Allende to this point (don't judge - I have some issues with magic realism) I have to guess that this is Allende's preferred way to establish characterization. It's just not the norm for this genre.

      I felt at a certain point that I was just being given too much superfluous information and it was slowing the pace down. Part of the thrill in reading mysteries for me is the fast pace and the slow, miserly release of information. However, the other part of enjoyment I find in mysteries is guessing who-dun-it and Allende did an excellent job embedding the killer into the story, although part of that is simple due to the sheer volume of information about people.

      In the end, while I enjoyed her writing and the descriptions of her characters, her writing style didn't quite work for me in a mystery. I can't fault the book for her writing, though, because I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.

      Disclosure: I received an advanced reading copy of this book from the HarperCollins for review purposes.
    • 2/5
      My first impression of this mystery novel is that the writing was rather clunky. Whether that is due to the original writing or the translation, I cannot know. As the book went on, it didn't bother me as much so either the author/translators got better or I got used to the style.My second impression is that the characters were caricatures and stereotypes. Really, a Navy SEAL Team Six amputee and a flighty, kindhearted New Age Californian? (If all the fictional characters who were part of SEAL Team Six were added together, that prestigious team would likely have numbered in the thousands.)Multiple people were murdered, but the reader was told very little about the victims initially and it was hard to be drawn into the story. A group of misfit teens and a grandfather were going to solve the murder: Hey, let's look at this murder. Okay, let's skip that one and go on to this one. No, let's look into this third one....I was blindsided and disgusted when dogfighting entered the picture. I had to skim over those pages. There was no need for that in the story, it felt gratuitous, there only for the shock value. While I'm on my soapbox, let's keep animals out of human wars. They are our wars, and we should not use animals to fight them. We cause the animals enough grief without using them as weapons.At 400+ pages in the edition I read, this story dragged on, and for the most part, just bored me.I was given an advance reader's edition for review.
    • 4/5
      I have history with Isabel Allende, beginning with The House of the Spirits, a book I first read when it came out in paperback. I was on my honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta and it was a wonderful place to read it and a wonderful story. I've since read many of her books and I always find something to love in them.In theory, Ripper is a thriller, a bit of suspense, a crime novel. In reality, Ripper is the story of a sprawling network of family, friends, and acquaintances in San Francisco, particularly in the North Beach neighborhood (one of my favorite places in the city, and not just because of the City Lights bookstore, although that doesn't hurt it). If you need your crime novels to follow a standard trajectory of crime, detection, and capture, this book probably won't work for you, but if you approach it as a character-driven novel you'll enjoy yourself.I really liked this book, even though it contains few of the elements of magical realism that have made Ms. Allende's novels famous. I loved getting to know these characters, their backstories, their current stories, and the thread of danger that interlaces their lives in this moment. From a teenager who runs an online role-playing game devoted to solving serial crime to Indiana - an unconventional healer, to Ryan - an Afghan war vet and amputee and his comrade in arms - the dog, Attila, I wanted to know everything about them all and Ms. Allende delivered. She also captures all the things I love about San Francisco and its flavors - the character of the various neighborhoods that make the city wonderful - without dwelling on (nor ignoring) its huge negatives, Ripper is a love note to the city, to family of all kinds, and will keep you reading long into the night.
    • 4/5
      This book was quite a departure from Allende's usual fare, or is it? Her original intent was to co-write a mystery with her husband but their work habits were so different she went ahead on her own with this result. While there is a serial murderer on the loose in San Francisco, this book turned out to be more character driven than plot driven. Filling almost 500 pages are detailed descriptions of all of the players along with their histories and the events that brought them together.At the center of the story is a bright teen, Amanda, her mother, Indiana, and the grandfather, Blake (known online as Kabel). Her mother has two beaus - Alan, ne'er-d-well member of a rich family, and Ryan, an ex-Navy SEAL. She is what people would envision a modern day hippy. She works in a holistic clinic and gives aromatherapy and massages to her clients. The last main member is Amanda's father, SFPD's deputy chief of homicide, Bob Martín.Amanda is the leader of an online group who originally started out to solve the Ripper murders of London, got bored, and decided to turn their attention to current cases. As most readers are familiar with the many police procedural programs on TV and various book series, many of the things that happen are glaringly mishandled, such as Bob letting the grandfather look through the case files knowing full well that the information will end up with his daughter.So why did I enjoy this book? It takes place in the San Francisco area and takes the reader around to parts of the East Bay and wine country - always fun. I enjoy books featuring teens who do something with their time other than bullying each other or strutting around like peacocks. That gives me hope. I also enjoy books where the adults take the teens seriously and don't just blow them off when they have something to share. The long build up ends with a climatic ending, worthy of any good murder mystery.
    • 4/5
      I really enjoyed Ripper, however, it did require that I overlook the broad characters who were more like caricatures and suspend belief in several instances.A motley group from around the world connects online to try to solve the historic Jack the Ripper murders. Amanda, a high school senior, is the leader of the crew and her grandfather Blake is her henchman. When Amanda's grandmother predicts a spate of murders in their hometown of San Francisco, the group tracks and investigates the killings. Amanda's father is the Deputy Chief of Homicide and shares details of the investigation with his daughter and father-in-law. The duo manages to out-think the department along the way.When Amanda's mother goes missing, most are concerned that she may be the next victim of a possible serial killer, and the online detectives step up their search for the murderer.
    • 2/5
      This novel had an engaging plot involving a series of murders that were being treated as separate cases by the police, but considered to be serial by a group of amateurs. The characters were mostly stereotypes (e.g., new-age healer, teenager, divorced husband, wounded warrior, doting grandfather, etc.,etc.) and many of the premises were not very believable (i.e.,amateurs solving crimes that the polices cannot over the Internet). The climax was exciting but the solution seemed to be just patched together and was also pretty far-fetched. I don't think crime thrillers are Allende's forte. She should stick to what she does best.
    • 3/5
      Still a little unbelievable even though Allende was trying for realism. The last 100 pages were good though.
    • 3/5
      2 audio discscontemporary fiction, murder, mystery, san francisco, violence, warI chose this because I thought I had previously read (and liked) Allende.Remember: This is my opinion alone...others may see it through an entirely different lens.Too long....unnecessarily graphic (in violence and sex portrayals).....areas where I was tempted (but didn't) move to the next tract.I felt a great deal could have been siphoned off and still left a decent suspense/thriller.Not my cuppa....perhaps someone else can properly appreciate it.3 ★
    • 2/5
      Could not finish this book. Read it in Spanish, the author's native language, and still, did not enjoy it. Read about one hundred pages, the character development is ridiculously long. And every time she uses first name and surname when she mentions each person. Too boring.
    • 3/5
      Set in contemporary times. Not one of Allendes best works, I completed it, but don't remember the details several months later.
    • 5/5
      One of the best books I have read this year, one of the best books period, Ripper is amazing, everything I hoped it would be from the description. A string of seemingly unrelated killings occur, and a group who play an online role-playing crime solving game (called "Ripper") attempt to solve each killing, slowly piecing together more than even the police have.The ending is incredible, to say the least. The way everything comes together, and there is even a twist on top of the twist (none of which I saw coming), puts this book on the top of the heap.
    • 4/5
      It's been many years since I first read and enjoyed an Isabel Allende novel. She is best known for magical realism in her literary novels, so I was surprised to find that she tried her hand at the mystery/thriller genre with her latest work, Ripper.Ripper has a serial killer at work in San Francisco, but no one know it yet. Amanda, a high school senior at a nearby boarding school run by feminist nuns (very cool!), is kind of nerdy and smart and spends time with other smart, nerdy teens in an online role playing game called Ripper.They are intrigued by an astrologer (and friend to Amanda's mother Indiana) who predicts a bloodbath of murders will take place in San Francisco, and when a high school security guard is found brutally murdered, they have their first case.Amanda's father is a police detective, so Amanda tries to get information for her team from him. Amanda's grandfather (Indiana's father) Blake is part of team Ripper, and I loved his relationship with his granddaughter. They love each other fiercely, and Blake spends as much time as he can with Amanda.The story opens with Amanda telling us that her mother is being held by the serial killer, so we read the rest of the rest of the story waiting to find out why and how this happens. This conceit ratchets up the tension dramatically.Other murders occur and the police don't believe they are connected until team Ripper puts all the pieces together. Amanda's father does not like his daughter's interest and involvement in these murders, but at least Blake is there to keep an eye on things.Indiana Jackson is a holistic healer, a real crunchy-granola type. She is also knockout gorgeous and can get men to do whatever she asks, but she doesn't take advantage of that. She is in love with Alan Keller, who is from a wealthy family but doesn't like to work. Ryan, a former Navy SEAL who lost a leg in the war and now works for the CIA in some kind of clandestine manner, is a client of Indiana's. They are good friends, but he would like to be more than that.As I was reading the story, I thought there were too many characters to keep track of- Indiana's many clients, the Ripper team, police, murder victims- it felt overwhelming. But as the story got rolling, I saw how everything came together and it worked.Allende gives a few clues as to who the murderer may be, which I picked up on, but I had no idea how or why the murderer killed. The final resolution was a little hard to swallow, although the action scenes at the end were nail-biting.The characters in the story are well-drawn and interesting, and I was particularly interested in Ryan's backstory. If the mystery's resolution stretches credulity a bit, I am willing to go with it because I liked the characters so much.The book is translated from the Spanish by Ollie Brock and Frank Wynne, and they did a marvelous job. I would have never guessed that the author wasn't from San Francisco herself.

    Book preview

    The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith

    Chapter 1

    Sunlight dappled the rough-hewn beams of the expansive kitchen of Abbott Manor, where I was employed as a groundskeeper. I sighed in contentment as I gazed out the thick windows at the verdant rolling countryside surrounding the home. Although meticulously kept up by Mrs. Duckworth, the Abbotts’ devoted housekeeper, I could see motes of pollen floating through the bright rays. The homey, comfortable setting reminded me of the Veritas Estate, where pollen from the magnolia trees would drift through the open windows and coat an entire room in a thin layer of dust.

    Can you pass me the knife, Stefan? Daisy, one of the young housemaids, asked as she flirtatiously batted her eyelashes at me. Daisy was a local girl occasionally employed by Mrs. Duckworth to come in and assist in the kitchen for the day. A short girl with curly brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her upturned nose, she reminded me of Amelia Hawke, one of my childhood friends from Mystic Falls. Amelia would now most likely have children Daisy’s age, I realized.

    Why, of course, Daisy darlin’, I said in my exaggerated Southern accent, bowing deeply to her. Daisy always teased me about how American I sounded, and I enjoyed our lighthearted exchanges. They were playful and innocent, a reminder that words didn’t always carry an ulterior motive.

    I pulled a knife from a drawer and passed it to her as she plucked a cucumber from a large wooden bowl and set it down on the table, biting her lip in concentration.

    Ow! Daisy yelped, yanking her finger away from the cucumber and hastily bringing her hand to her lips. She turned toward me, blood oozing from the wound.

    I felt my fangs begin to bulge from underneath my gums. I gulped and stepped away, trying to stop the transformation while I still had the chance.

    Stefan, help! Daisy implored.

    I staggered back as the scent of blood invaded my nostrils and seeped into my brain. I could imagine how sweet the liquid would taste on my tongue.

    I grabbed a napkin and thrust it toward her. I squeezed my eyes shut, but if anything, it only made the metallic scent of blood more potent.

    Here! I said roughly, blindly shaking the napkin at her. But she did not take it, so I opened one eye, then the other. Daisy was standing there, her arm outstretched, but something about her was different. I blinked again. It wasn’t my imagination. Her mousy brown hair had transformed into a shiny red copper, while her full cheeks had slimmed into an angular face that had only the faintest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

    Somehow, Daisy had disappeared, and a new figure stood in her place.

    Callie? I croaked, steadying myself against the wooden table. Callie Gallagher—fiery, impetuous, fiercely loyal, and dead by Damon’s hand—was right in front of me. My mind was whirling. What if she hadn’t really died? Could she somehow have escaped to England to start over? I knew it didn’t make sense, but she was right in front of me, as lovely as ever.

    Stefan . . . she whispered, tilting her face toward me.

    Callie! I smiled as my fangs receded. I felt a quickening in my chest, a shadow of the human emotions that Callie had helped me remember. I reached out toward her, brushing my hand against her shoulder, allowing my nose to inhale her apple-and-hay scent. But as soon as I blinked again, to take her all in, everything about her changed. Her lips were parted too widely, her teeth too white, her eyes bloodshot. A lemon-and-ginger fragrance wafted through the air.

    I blinked in horror. Fear ran through my veins like ice. Could it be . . .

    It was Katherine. Katherine. The first woman I ever believed myself to fall in love with. The vampire who stole my heart only as a means to steal my soul. Leave me be! I called raggedly, scrambling backward so quickly my foot caught on the table leg. I steadied myself. I knew I had to get away from her. She was evil. She’d destroyed me. And yet, she looked so lovely. A mischievous expression danced across her face.

    Why, hello, Stefan, she said in a dulcet tone as she advanced toward me. Did I scare you? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!

    You’re dead, I spat, still unable to believe she was in front of me.

    She laughed, a sound as warm and enveloping as whiskey on a cold winter night.

    Wasn’t I always? It’s good to see you. You look well. Although maybe a bit too pale, Katherine admonished.

    How did you get here? I asked finally. Her body had been burned, buried in a Virginia church an ocean away. And yet, it was undeniable that she was standing not two feet from me in the Abbott kitchen.

    I needed to see you, Katherine said, biting her lower lip with her perfectly white teeth. I’m terribly sorry, Stefan. I feel we had so many misunderstandings. I never truly explained myself or my nature to you. Do you think you could ever forgive me? she asked.

    I found myself nodding, despite my hatred for what she’d done to me. I knew I needed to flee, but I couldn’t look away from Katherine’s large eyes. I wasn’t being compelled. It was worse. I was being driven by love. I tentatively reached out and allowed my fingers to graze her skin. It was smooth, and instantly I was consumed with the need to touch her again and again.

    Sweet Stefan, Katherine cooed, as she leaned toward me. Her petal-soft lips brushed against my cheek. I leaned in, succumbing to her lemon-ginger scent. My desire, suppressed for twenty years, was unleashed. I didn’t care about the past. I didn’t care what she’d done to me or my brother. I wanted her. My lips hungrily found hers, and I kissed her, sighing with happiness and contentment.

    She pulled back, and my gaze lifted to her face. Her eyes were bulging, and her fangs were glinting in the sunlight.

    Katherine! I gasped. But I couldn’t escape. Her icy-cold hands were around my neck, drawing me into her, and then I felt a searing pain at my throat. I tried to turn away but the pain went deeper, farther into my body until it reached into the depths of my soul. . . .

    Everything around me went dark.

    And then I heard a sharp, persistent knocking.

    Katherine? I groped around in confusion as I realized I was bathed in sweat. I blinked. Above me was the sloped roof of my thatched cottage. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the ceiling.

    The knocking continued.

    I scrambled from my bed and pulled on my breeches and shirt. Come in! I called.

    The door swung open and Mrs. Duckworth bustled in, concern stamped on her round, red face. You all right, then? Mrs. Duckworth asked.

    Fine. Just a dream, I said, shifting uneasily from one foot to another. Was it just a dream? I hadn’t thought about her in ages, but in my dream, Katherine had seemed so real, so alive.

    Having a nightmare, you was, Mrs. Duckworth said knowledgeably, crossing her arms across her expansive, matronly chest. I could hear you yelling outside the door. And you gave me a right fright, I’d thought you were attacked by one of them foxes from the woods. Mrs. Medlock up at the Evans farm said one got a few of their chickens the other day. In broad daylight, too!

    A nightmare . . . I repeated, as I steadied myself against the wooden post of my bed. The sun was just beginning its descent and the forest outside my window was blanketed in an amber light.

    Yes, Mrs. Duckworth replied patiently. She was wearing a starched white apron over her blue-and-white-striped dress, and her gray hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She’d been a servant at the Manor for over twenty years, and oversaw everything that went on in the house with a motherly concern. George Abbott always joked that she, not him, was truly in charge. Seeing her calmed me, a reminder that the events were all in my head, and that I was safe here. I just hope the missus didn’t hear you. Wouldn’t want her to think you was haunted.

    Not me, I said impatiently, picking up my bedclothes and tossing them back on the bed. I didn’t like the implication of Mrs. Duckworth’s colloquialisms, or that she was never quite able to produce a grammatically correct sentence. "You mean the cabin is haunted. Which it’s not," I said quickly.

    No, I meant you’s haunted, Mrs. Duckworth said sagely. You must have something in your mind that’s troubling you. Not letting you rest.

    I looked down at the rough, uneven floorboards. It was true. Even though I had fled from home, I was still haunted by visions from my past. Sometimes, when I dreamt of Damon and myself as children, racing horses against each other through the Virginia woods, the dreamscapes were pleasant. Other times, they reminded me that even though I was destined to live on Earth for eternity, a part of me was always in hell.

    No matter, Mrs. Duckworth said, crisply brushing her hands together to create a loud clapping sound. I was coming to fetch you for Sunday supper. The boys can’t stop asking for you, she said, an affectionate smile on her face as she spoke of Luke and Oliver, the two young Abbott boys.

    Of course, I said. I loved Sunday suppers. They were casual and noisy, filled with delicious food and good-natured bickering between Luke and Oliver. Their father, George, would bounce four-year-old Emma, the youngest Abbott, on his knee, while their mother, Gertrude, would smile proudly at her brood. I’d sit at the far edge of the table, thankful that I, too, was part of the tableaux. They were just a normal family, enjoying a typical Sunday. And to me, there was nothing—not the finest mansions in San Francisco or the glittering, champagne-soaked balls of New York City—that could possibly compare.

    When I’d come to Abbott Manor last fall, I had only the shirt on my back and a horse I’d won in a game of cards at a portside bar just outside of Southampton. She’d been a black beauty who’d reminded me of Mezzanotte, my horse from my Virginia childhood. I’d named her Segreto, Italian for secret, and we spent the month roaming the countryside before arriving in Ivinghoe, a town about fifty miles outside of London. Looking for someone who would purchase Segreto, I’d been directed to George Abbott, who, upon hearing my carefully crafted tale of woe, had offered me both the price of the horse and a job as caretaker.

    You best hurry up, Mrs. Duckworth said, interrupting my memory. She strode out of my cottage, closing the door with a thud.

    I glanced hastily at my reflection in the looking glass that hung over my simple chest of drawers. I quickly slicked my brown hair back and ran my tongue over my gums. My fangs rarely made an appearance anymore, at least not in my waking hours. I’d even taken to hunting my prey with a bow and arrow, then draining the blood into a glass and drinking it as I relaxed by the fire. I remember how my friend Lexi had tried and tried to get me to take goat’s blood tea, back when I was a young vampire, wreaking havoc on the city of New Orleans. Back then, I’d resisted, thinking goat’s blood was an affront to what blood should taste like—rich, sweet, human.

    If only she could see me now, I thought ruefully. I sometimes wished that she was here, especially during the long, dark nights. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, and Lexi was a true friend. But she and I had parted ways upon reaching Britain. She’d decided to go on to the Continent, while I chose to stay and see what the country had to offer. It was just as well. Although we’d parted on good terms, I could sense sometimes she grew impatient with my melancholic disposition. I didn’t blame her. I grew impatient with myself, too, wishing that I could simply move on. I wished I could flirt with Daisy without fear of my fangs making an appearance. I wished I could discuss my former life in America with George without letting slip that I’d been alive during the Civil War. And I wished, more than anything, I could erase Damon from my mind. I felt that being by myself and on my own two feet was what I needed to move forward. Until one nightmare would send me back into my misery.

    But only if I let it. I’d learned that memories were just that—memories. They had no power to hurt me, unless I let them. I learned that I could trust humans. And late at night, my body warmed by badger blood and listening to the sounds of the forest come to life, I felt almost happy.

    There was little excitement and adventure. What there was—and what I was thankful for—was routine. The job was much like what I’d been doing in my youth in Virginia, back when Father had been priming me to take over Veritas Estate. I bought livestock, oversaw the horses, and mended anything that might need fixing. I knew George approved of my work, and we were even going into London tomorrow to discuss the finances of the farm, a true sign of his trust in me. In fact, the entire Abbott family seemed to like me, and I was surprised to find how much I liked them. I knew in a few years I’d have to move on, since they’d soon notice that I wasn’t aging as they were. But I could still enjoy the time I had left.

    Hastily, I pulled on a merino-wool jacket, one of the many items of clothing George had given me in the few short months I’d been at Abbott Manor. Indeed, he often said he thought of me like a son, a sentiment which simultaneously warmed and amused me. If only he knew that he was actually a few years younger than me. He took his position as a father figure seriously, and although he could never replace my real father, I welcomed the gesture.

    Not bothering to lock the door to my cottage, I strode up the hill to the house, whistling a nameless tune. Only as I got to the chorus did I realize its origin—it was God Save the South, one of Damon’s favorites.

    Grimacing, I mashed my lips together and practically ran the remaining steps to the rear door of the manor. After twenty years, any recollection of Damon was as sharp and abrupt as a clap of thunder on a dry, hot summer day. I still remembered him—his brooding blue eyes, his lopsided smile, and his sarcasm-tinged Southern accent—as vividly as if I’d only seen him ten minutes ago. Who knew where he was now?

    He could even be dead. The possibility sprang into my mind out of nowhere. I uneasily shook off the thought.

    Arriving at the house, I swung open the door. The Abbotts never kept it locked. There was no need. The next house was five miles down the road, the town another two beyond that. Even then, the town only consisted of a pub, post office, and train station. There was nowhere safer in all of England.

    Stefan, my boy! George called eagerly, striding into the foyer from the sitting room. Giddy and already a little drunk on pre-supper sherry, George was flushed and seemed even more rotund than last week.

    Hello, sir! I said enthusiastically, glancing down at him. He stood at only a little bit above five feet, and his bulk seemed to be his way of making up for his short stature. Indeed, sometimes I worried for the horses when it struck George’s fancy to go for a ride in the woods.

    But even though the other servants occasionally mocked him for his unwieldy body and fondness for drink, I saw in him nothing but friendliness and goodwill. He’d taken me in when I had nothing, and not only had he given me a roof over my

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