Damon and I had spent the night pressing the flowers into liquid, braving the angry red rashes it left all over our hands and arms. Even now, safely packed in glass vials, the scent made my skin tingle and my eyes burn. Our interactions had been similarly prickly. I’d avoided any mention of Katherine, but Damon had seemed on edge and tried to disguise it by discussing his many conquests. After a while, I’d stopped listening. The story was always the same: beautiful woman, delicious blood, being invited to the finest parties in the area before getting bored and moving on. He didn’t yearn for a home the way I did. And more and more, I wondered whether that was a blessing. I made a hasty stop at the bakery, then hurried to the alley where we’d met before. Cora was already there, hugging her knees to her chest. “Cora!” I called to her. Her face broke into a forced smile. “Stefan! I’m glad you’re here. Do you have the vervain?” Cora asked. I held up the vials in response.
