The Asylum by L. J. Smith Page A

in my pockets, shuffling my feet and singing an ill-mannered drinking song that often broke out at pubs. I wanted anyone who saw me to assume I was just a drunk and leave me alone. Rain was falling softly from the dove-gray sky, and the cobblestones were slick.
    Midway to the Asylum, I spotted a bakery with a red awning. It was the shop where Cora and I had gone before the park, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
    On a whim, I entered.
    â€œSix buns, please,” I said, holding the baker’s gaze until she nodded and brought me a white sack.
    â€œThank you,” I said, noticing the poster behind the counter. My stomach sank. Damon’s face was everywhere.
    The woman followed my gaze. “He’s back in London,” she explained. “Nobody’s safe.” She squinted harder at me, and I took that as my cue to hurry away. The family resemblance between Damon and me was faint, but it was there, as indelible as ink. I couldn’t risk someone associating me with my brother, especially since we’d been spotted together at the tavern last night.
    Treats in hand, I settled on an ivy-covered bench across the street from the Asylum. I pulled out my watch. Twenty minutes after six.
    As expected, a side door opened a few minutes later, and two lines of girls filed out, as though they were soldiers on the march. There were about fifty in all, identically clad in gray smocks, their hair pulled back and covered by bonnets. Some of the girls looked no older than thirteen, while others seemed to be in their late twenties. I had to squint to tell them apart. It would be difficult to find Cora.
    â€œOrder!” Sister Benedict barked at the front of the line. “Now, think of the prayers you’ll offer to God!” She marched them through the gates and onto the street.
    â€œCora!” I hissed, disguising it as a cough. “Cora!”
    I saw movement from the far line, and then Cora turned toward me and gave a quick smile. As the group turned a corner, she stole away.
    â€œYou made it,” Cora whispered, her back pressed against the sandstone building as she inched farther down the street and toward a tiny cobblestone-paved alley.
    â€œOf course. I was worried about you. Are you all right?” I asked, following her lead and trying to shield her with my body. In the distance, the church bells pealed.
    â€œThankfully, yes,” Cora said urgently. “But other girls weren’t so lucky. I saw something last night,” she continued, sinking to sit on a concrete step. Here, in the alley, we were partially covered from the rain by the stone overhang of an abandoned building.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, my imagination running wild, the bakery bag in my lap all but forgotten.
    â€œSamuel and Henry came to the Asylum in the middle of the night.”
    â€œWhat? Why?” I asked.
    â€œThey’re drinking from the girls. I saw it with my own eyes. It was terrible. You have to stop it.” Silence hung in the air between us. I was afraid to stir. In the distance, a crow cawed and a police bell rang, all reminders that we were not alone.
    â€œIt took me ages to fall asleep last night, but I eventually nodded off,” Cora said, glancing up at the sky. “The next thing I knew, I was startled awake by a noise. I saw Samuel and Henry walk into the room. As soon as I saw them, I pulled my sheet over my head and lay on my side, pretending to be asleep, but the sheets are so thin that I still saw everything,” Cora said breathlessly. “They stopped by a few beds, silently waking the girls. One of them was Winnie, who was sleeping to the right of me. I stayed as rigid as I could and was just clutching my charm. Oh, Stefan, at one point, they were so close I felt Henry’s hand brush against my forehead. I heard Samuel say, ‘Fresh blood,’ and I almost stopped breathing, I was so frightened. But then they moved on to another girl. He didn’t recognize