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.