by L. J. Smith
“Here!” Lexi said, not bothering to consult the rest of the group as she pushed open a saloon door that read MILADIES in curlicue script. I was impressed by her boldness—back in Mystic Falls, only women of ill repute would ever enter a barroom. But as I was fast realizing, New Orleans wasn’t Mystic Falls.
The floor of Miladies was caked with sawdust, and I winced at the overwhelmingly acrid smell of sweat, whiskey, and cologne. The tables were packed shoulder to shoulder with men playing cards, gambling, and gossiping. One entire side of the room was filled with Union soldiers, and in another corner, a motley band consisting of players with an accordion, two fiddles, and a flute was playing a jaunty rendition of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
“What do you think?” Lexi asked, leading me to the bar.
“Is this a Union bar?” I asked. The Union army had captured the city some months back, and soldiers stood sentinel on nearly every corner, maintaining order and reminding Confederates that the war they were fighting looked to be a losing cause.
“Yes. You know what that means, right?”
I scanned the room. Aside from the soldiers, it was a solitary crowd. Single men drowned their loneliness at wooden tables, barely acknowledging their neighbors. The bartenders filled glasses with a mechanical air, never seeming to register the people for whom they poured their wares.
I understood immediately. “Everyone here is a stranger passing through.”
“Exactly.” Lexi smiled, clearly pleased that I was catching on.
Buxton cleared his throat in disapproval. I could tell he didn’t like me—that he was waiting for me to slip up so he could stake me without incurring Lexi’s wrath.
“Hugo, find us a table!” Lexi commanded. Hugo walked his hulkish frame over to a rough-hewn table next to the band. Before he could even open his mouth, the blue-coated soldiers at the table glanced at each other and stood up, leaving half-filled mugs behind.
Lexi pulled out two chairs. “Stefan, sit next to me.”
I sat, vaguely embarrassed that I was so compliant, like a child. But I reminded myself that even Hugo followed her lead. Lexi had Power, and she knew how to use it.
Percy, Hugo, and Buxton also settled around.
“Now,” Lexi said, taking one of the abandoned beer mugs and waving it around in the air, just as the waitress approached us. “Let’s teach you how to behave in public.”
My cheeks flushed with anger. “I am behaving,” I said through clenched teeth. “Despite the fact that there are so many people that it’s nearly impossible to concentrate.”
Percy and Hugo snickered.
“He’s not ready . . .” Buxton said in a surly tone.
“Yes, he is.” Lexi’s words were low and slightly menacing. Buxton clenched his jaw, clearly trying to rein in his temper. I shifted in my chair. I suddenly felt like I was ten years old again, with Damon protecting me from the Giffin brothers. Only this time it was a girl standing up for me. I was about to point out that I didn’t need Lexi to answer for me when she placed a hand on my knee. The touch was gentle and calmed me.
“It gets easier,” she said, briefly catching my eyes. “So, lesson one,” she stated, addressing the entire group. A kindness on her part, I realized, since I was the only one who didn’t know the finer points of being a vampire. “Lesson one is learning how to compel without drawing attention to yourself.” She leaned back and eyed the band. “I don’t like this song. Stefan, what song would you like to hear?”
“Uh . . .” I glanced around the table, confused. Percy snickered again, but stopped when Lexi glared at him. “‘God Save the South’?” I said hesitantly. The first thing that came to my head, it was a tune Damon used to whistle when he was on leave from the army.
Lexi scooted her chair back, the legs kicking up a layer of sawdust. She sauntered over to the band and looked each of the members in the eye as she said something I couldn’t hear.
The band stopped mid-chord and immediately switched to “God Save the South.”
“Hey!” one soldier shouted. His comrades glanced at one another, clearly wondering why a band in a Union bar had suddenly been inspired to play a pro-Southern song.
Lexi grinned, as if delighted by her trick. “Are you impressed?”
“Very,” I said, meaning it. Even Percy and Hugo nodded in agreement.
Lexi took a sip of her beer. “Your turn. Pick someone,” she said.
I glanced around the bar, my eye catching on a dark-haired barmaid. Her eyes were deep brown, and her hair was tied in a low knot at the nape of her neck. Her lips were parted, and she wore a cameo pendant that nestled in the notch of her neck. In the split second between seeing and knowing, I was reminded of Katherine. I thought of my first glimpse of Miss Molly, and how I’d mistaken her for Katherine as well. It felt as though my maker were intent to haunt me in New Orleans.
“Her,” I said, nodding toward the girl.
Lexi looked at me sharply, as if she knew there was a story behind this decision. But she didn’t pry. “Clear your mind,” she said instead, “and allow your energy to enter her.”
I nodded, remembering the moment on the train when my thoughts had touched Lavinia’s. I fixed my gaze on the barmaid. She was laughing, her head tilted back toward the ceiling, but as soon as my focus locked on her, her eyes lowered to mine, almost as if I’d bidden her to do so.
“Good,” Lexi murmured. “Now, use your mind to tell her what you want from her.”
That was the piece I had missed. When I’d tried to compel the conductor, I’d had thousands of thoughts about possible scenarios that could happen during our interaction, but I had not asked for any of them.
Come here, I willed, staring into her liquid chocolate eyes. Come to me. For a moment she held her place behind the bar, but then she took a hesitant step forward. Yes, keep going. She stepped forward again, more confidently this time, making her way toward me. I had expected her to look dazed, almost as though she were sleepwalking. But she didn’t appear to be in a trance. To any bystander, she could have simply been coming to our table to take our drink orders.
“Hello,” I said when she reached us.
“Don’t break eye contact,” Lexi whispered. “Tell her what you want her to do now.”
Sit down, I thought. And, almost instantly, the girl wedged herself between me and Buxton, her thigh warm against mine.
“Hello,” she said unblinkingly. “It’s the strangest thing, but suddenly I just knew that I needed to sit here with you.”
“I’m Stefan,” I said, shaking her hand. My fangs elongated, and the sides of my stomach knocked together. I wanted her. Badly.
“Don’t embarrass us,” came Lexi’s final words before she turned from me to face the band. It was clear that while she wasn’t condoning any of my subsequent actions, she wasn’t necessarily condemning them.
Invite me outside, I thought, placing my hand on the barmaid’s thigh. But even as I thought the words, I glanced at Lexi, breaking my connection with the girl.
The girl shifted, pulled her hair up, then dropped it down on her back. She glanced at the band, rubbing her forefinger on the rim of a glass.
Invite me outside, I thought again, refocusing my attention fully on her. Sweat prickled my temple. Had I lost the connection for good?
But then she gave a slight nod. “You know, it’s awfully loud in here, and I want to speak with you. Would you mind if we went outside?” she asked, staring at me.
I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’d like that very much,” I said, offering her my arm.
“Bring her back alive, boy, or you’ll be answering to me,” said a voice so low that I wondered if I’d imagined it.
But when I turned back, Lexi merely smiled and waved.
Chapter 11
Outside, I let the girl lead me away from the drunken crowd and toward a side alley beyond a bar called Calhoun’s.
“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t k
now what came over me. I’m usually not so fresh, it’s just that—”
“I’m thankful for it,” I said, interrupting her. She shivered, and I put my arms around her thin frame. Instantly, she pulled away.
“You’re so cold!” she said in an accusatory tone.
“Am I?” I asked, feigning nonchalance. You want to kiss me, I thought.
She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s just that I’m sensitive to temperature. But I know a way we could both warm up.” She smiled shyly, then raised up to her tiptoes. Her lips pressed against mine, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy their warmth and feel the girl’s blood race through her veins as she gave herself over to me.
Then I lunged for her neck.
“Ow!” She protested, trying to push me off. “Stop!”
You will succumb, because if you do that, I’ll let you live, I thought, using every fiber of my being to compel her at this crucial moment. She gazed up at me, confusion in her eyes, before she fell back over my arms, her face a mask of sleepy satisfaction.
I took a few more sips of the blood, all too conscious of Lexi and the others back inside. Then I dragged the woman up to her feet. I’d been careful. The holes I’d made in her neck were tiny, almost impossible to see with human vision. Still, I adjusted her scarf around her neck to cover them up.
“Wake up,” I whispered softly.
Her eyes opened, the gaze unfocused. “What . . . where am I?” I could sense her heart beating faster, sense her ready to let loose a scream.
“You were helping a drunk customer,” I told her. “You are free to go. I was simply making sure you were okay.”
She snapped to attention, her body relaxing. “I apologize, sir. Usually, the patrons don’t get so rowdy at Miladies. Thank you for assisting me. I’ll give you a whiskey, on the house,” she said, winking at me.
I walked into Miladies beside her, and was rewarded with Lexi’s slow smile from the corner table.
Good job, boy.
I followed the girl until she safely resumed her position behind the polished wood counter of the bar.
“What’s your poison?” she asked, whiskey bottle in hand. She looked pale, as if she were coming down with a slight cold. Meanwhile, her blood was warm in my stomach.
“I’ve drunk quite enough, thank you, miss,” I said, as I took her hand and brought it up to my lips, kissing it as tenderly as I’d marked her neck.
Chapter 12
The following evening Lexi knocked on my bedroom door. She wore a black coat and matching trousers. A cap hid most of her hair, save for a few blond tendrils that fell loose and framed her face.
“I was proud of you last night,” she said. I smiled, despite myself. It was surprising how quickly I took to seeking Lexi’s approval. “How much did you take from the barmaid?”
“Not too much. But I wanted more,” I admitted.
A look I couldn’t quite decipher passed over her face. “I used to be like you, you know. But the more you feed from humans, the hungrier you get. It’s a curse. But there are other ways. Have you hunted for animals’ blood?”
I shook my head no.
“Well, luckily for you, I’m going hunting now,” she said, “and you’re coming with me. Put on dark clothes and meet me downstairs in five minutes.”
I shrugged on a dark, military-looking jacket I’d found hanging in the closet and raced downstairs, loath to put off hunting with Lexi for even five minutes. While I bristled at Buxton’s comments about how inexperienced I was, when I heard it from Lexi, I was only eager for a lesson on how our kind survived.
We walked out the door, no trace of sunlight in the inky black sky. I sniffed the air, searching out the scent of the nearest human, then stopped when I saw Lexi staring at me with a knowing look.
Instead of turning left, toward the bustle of Bourbon Street, she turned right, snaking through side streets until we reached a forest. Above us the trees were bare and ghostly against the dark night sky, the moon our only light.
“There are deer here,” Lexi said, “and squirrels, bears, rabbits. I think there’s a den of foxes that way,” she added, walking into the thick, mossy woods. “Their blood smells earthier than human blood, and their hearts beat much more rapidly.”
I followed her lead. Quickly and silently, we darted from tree to bush without disturbing the underbrush. In a way, it felt like we were playing a game of hide-and-seek, or just playing at hunting, the way young schoolboys do. After all, as a human, I’d always carried a weapon on the hunt. Now all I had were my fangs.
Lexi held up a hand. I paused, midstep, my eyes darting everywhere. I didn’t see anything but thick trunks and racing ants in jagged stumps. Then, without warning, Lexi lunged. When she stood up, blood was dripping from her fangs, and a self-satisfied smile appeared on her face. A creature lay on the fallen leaves, its legs bent as if it were still mid-run.
She gestured to the lump of orangish-red fur. “Fox isn’t bad. Would you like to try it?”
I knelt down, my lips curling as they made contact with the rough fur. I forced myself to gingerly take a sip of liquid, though, as I knew it was what Lexi wanted. I sucked in, and immediately the blood seared my tongue. I spit it out violently.
“Fox is an acquired taste, I suppose,” Lexi said as she knelt on the ground by my side. “More for me, at least!”
While Lexi fed, I leaned against a tree trunk and listened to the rustling sounds of the forest. The breeze shifted, and suddenly the scent of iron-rich blood was everywhere. It was sweet and spicy, and it wasn’t coming from Lexi’s fox.
Somewhere, nearby, there was a human heart, beating out seventy-two thu-thuds a minute.
Cautiously I slipped past Lexi, and ventured out past the perimeter of the forest. Set up on the edge of the lake was a shantytown. Tents were pitched at every angle, and makeshift clotheslines ran between wooden posts. The whole setup looked haphazard, as if the inhabitants knew they’d have to pick up and relocate at any second.
The camp looked deserted save for one woman who was bathing, the moonlight striking her ivory skin. She was humming to herself, washing the caked dirt off her hands and face.
I hid behind a large oak tree, pretending to take the woman by surprise. But then a large painted poster on a neighboring tree caught my eye. I took a step toward it. A branch cracked, the woman whirled around, and I could sense Lexi behind me.
“Stefan,” Lexi murmured, obviously aware of the unfolding scene. But this time, I was the one to hold up my hand to silence her. Mist floated over the portrait on the sign, but the printing was clear: PATRICK GALLAGHER’S FREAK SHOW: VAMPIRE VERSUS BEAST. BATTLE TO THE DEATH! OCTOBER 8.
I blinked, and the portrait swam into my vision. It was of a dark-haired man with chiseled features and pale-blue eyes. His teeth were bared, his canines elongated, and he was crouched opposite a snarling mountain lion.
I knew the face on the poster better than I knew my own.
It was Damon.
Chapter 13
Damon. Death.
The words swam in my mind as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Damon was alive. But who knew for how long? If he had been captured, he was undoubtedly weak. How could he face a ravenous beast in a battle and survive?
Anger tore through my body, along with the familiar ache of my fangs elongating. I ripped down the sign with a snarl.
“What is it?” she hissed, her own fangs bared.
I held up the paper.
“My brother,” I said, staring without comprehension at the poster. The picture made him look like a monster. My eye twitched. “The battle is in two days.”
Lexi nodded, taking in the portrait.
“Gallagher found him,” she said, almost to herself.
I shook my head, not understanding what she meant.
She sighed. “Big businessman. He owns a lot of places in town, including a two-bit circus and freak show. Always looking for curiosities to display, and people always seem to f
ind the money to attend. Your brother—”
“Damon,” I said, cutting her off. “His name is Damon.”
“Damon,” Lexi said gently, tracing the image with her fingers.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” I said, almost to myself. “I need to help him. But . . .” I trailed off. But what? How could I possibly save him?
“We’ll need to find him,” Lexi decided. She brushed leaves and dirt from the back of her pants. “Do you trust me?”
Did I have a choice? My hunger forgotten, I followed her through the forest and back to the wide, silent streets of the city.
“Gallagher lives somewhere in the Garden District with all the other nouveaux riches. On Laurel Street, I think,” Lexi murmured as we wove our way to the center of town. “This has happened before, soon after Gallagher arrived in New Orleans five years ago.”
“What happened?” I asked, following closely behind her in the shadows.
“He found a vampire. He’s good at finding us. Or maybe we’re good at finding him. But the other vampire wasn’t part of my family. And . . .” She stopped suddenly.
“What happened to him?”
But Lexi merely shook her head. We’d arrived at the Garden District, where the streets were wide and the lawns hugging the sherbet-colored Victorian houses were lush and expansive.
“Here.” She stopped at a pistachio-hued mansion enclosed by an open wrought-iron fence. Magnolias and calla lilies spilled over the gate, and the air smelled like mint. Just beyond, I could see an enormous herb garden that took up a fifth of the property. I recoiled as we walked closer, as the garden grew a generous amount of vervain.
Lexi wrinkled her nose. “He knows all the tricks,” she said wryly.
We pushed open the gate, our footsteps barely crunching the gravel on the path that circled the house. Cicadas buzzed in the sycamore trees above us, and I could hear horses pacing in the stable.
And then I heard a low moan.
“He’s out back,” I said.
Lexi gazed up at the sky. Orange streaks were starting to peek above the horizon; it was about an hour until day broke. “It’s too close to dawn,” Lexi said. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I have to go.”
