The chapter opens with Charlotte recalling a childhood memory of finding a dead rabbit, highlighting her lifelong sensitivity to loss and death. This memory echoes her present turmoil as the carriage carries Charlotte and Sabine away from London through night into countryside, Charlotte’s senses heightened and mind racing.

Charlotte silently questions what she has become, drawing parallels to Frankenstein and wondering whether she died and was rekindled by a new animating force. She fixates on why George Preston died while she continues, and whether the difference lies in blood, heart, or soul. Sabine notices Charlotte’s agitation, remarking that Charlotte’s mind is “very loud.”

Charlotte asks what vampires take from humans—only blood or something more. Sabine deflects the moral distinction, saying, “Does it matter?” Charlotte argues that if it is only blood, victims need not die; Sabine shrugs and replies that it is “better to finish what you start,” signaling a philosophy of finality and risk management.

Outside Canterbury, Sabine kills the carriage driver while Charlotte looks away. Charlotte is repulsed not only by the violence but by her own rising hunger as her mouth goes dry and teeth ache, revealing her deepening vampiric appetite. After the driver’s body falls, Charlotte suggests burial, but Sabine refuses and instead retrieves a lantern and hidden spirits from the carriage.

Sabine explains that “dead bodies make dead earth,” which is dangerous to them. She outlines key vulnerabilities: only destruction of the heart will end them, sunlight will sicken them, and grave dirt will draw them down. Sabine douses the body and carriage, then throws in the lantern, burning the scene to ash to avoid dead earth and evidence.

As the blaze roars, Charlotte is transfixed by the flame’s new intensity to her altered senses until Sabine pulls her back and warns that of all deaths, fire is the worst. They leave the burning carriage and continue down the road toward town.