by L. J. Smith
“Stefan,” Callie said. “I was thinking . . . since we don’t have the shows for a few nights, do you think you could show me the city?”
“But I don’t know the city,” I pointed out. “You’ve been here longer than I have.”
Callie’s cheeks flushed poppy red. “Father doesn’t let me leave the house, unless it’s for work. But there are so many shows and adventures in New Orleans.” She looked up at me from beneath her long lashes. “Please? I’ll feel safe if I’m with you.”
I nearly laughed at the irony of that statement, but the chuckle caught in my throat. Callie had it wrong: She wouldn’t necessarily be safe with me, but I could use her to guarantee the safety of my brother. After all, she knew everything about Gallagher’s Circus—including where her father was holding Damon.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said.
“Oh, we’ll have such fun!” Callie clasped my hands and whirled me around. “Meet me at the park at the end of my street at nine o’clock.” She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed my cheek.
She was so close, I could practically feel her heart beating against my chest. I pulled away abruptly, my head pounding and my jaw aching. I turned my back to her as my canines extended with a click. I had to take five deep breaths before they retracted again.
“Are you okay?” she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.
I plastered a smile on my face and turned back to her. “Just excited for tonight.”
“Good,” Callie said, humming to herself as we walked back to the circus grounds.
I ran my tongue over my teeth. It was true: I was excited for tonight. But excitement was akin to desire, and as I’d been learning ever since I met Katherine, nothing good ever came from desire.
Chapter 21
I arrived at home at dusk and found Lexi perched on the couch, her arms folded over her chest, and her foot rapidly tapping the floor. She looked like a disgruntled mother hen. Hugo and Percy were lounging, cat-like, on chaises in the far corner. Buxton, I noted with relief, was nowhere to be seen. I wondered how long they’d been waiting for me.
“You decided to come back, I see,” Lexi said, a scowl crossing her face.
“So I did,” I said, trying to suppress a smile.
“And something’s changed,” she added. She sniffed the air. “But you haven’t fed, that’s good.” She knit her eyebrows together.
“Hello,” I said to Hugo and Percy, ignoring Lexi’s observation. They gazed at me in surprise. I’d never made any effort to speak to either of them in the past.
“Hi,” Percy grunted.
Hugo just stared at me.
Lexi continued to glare at me, her hands on her hips. “Out with it, Stefan. We don’t keep secrets in this house.”
“I have a plan to free Damon,” I said, wincing at the giddy sound of my voice.
“That’s terrific!” Lexi clapped. “How are you going to do it?”
“Well, uh, it begins with going on a date,” I confessed.
“A date?” Lexi’s brows flew up. “With whom?”
I cleared my throat sheepishly. “With Gallagher’s daughter, Callie.”
“You have a date with a human ?!” Percy said just as Lexi blurted out, “You have a date with Callie Gallagher .”
I put my hands up defensively. “She wants me to take her out on the town tonight. And while we’re there, I’m going to get information out of her on Damon. I can’t influence her because of the vervain, but there are other ways to get a woman to talk.”
Percy and Hugo looked up, expressions of disapproval crossing their faces like thunderclouds.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hugo said. I glanced at him in surprise. Apart from the night they’d found me, it was the first time I’d ever heard him speak.
“I agree. You’ll either want to kill her or kiss her, and neither scenario will end well for you,” Percy said. The sentence sounded out of place coming from his scrawny, baby-faced body.
“They’re right,” Lexi said urgently. “They’ve learned their lessons the hard way. Who’s to say what you’ll do when you’re alone with that girl, not to mention what she’ll do to you. You saw her house . . . the weapons she has. I just worry that—”
“I know, I know. I’m young, I can’t control my impulses, and I’m going to make some sort of mistake,” I interrupted in annoyance.
Lexi stood up and gazed at me. “All of those things are true. You’re strong, but I worry that you might let your emotions get the best of you.”
“I won’t,” I protested. “I’m just going out with her to see if I can learn anything more about Damon. If I’m going to rescue him—peacefully—she’s my best bet.”
Lexi set her jaw, but then heaved a sigh. “Just be careful.”
“If you’re going out, you can’t wear that,” Hugo said, lumbering up from the chaise. “Percy, get him something nice to wear.”
Percy looked at Lexi beseechingly. She crossed her arms. “What? You heard the man.”
Percy slid off the couch and marched up the stairs.
“If you’re going out with a lady, you need to look nice,” Hugo explained gruffly. “And Lexi, you need to take him shopping.”
“Yes, we’ll go out tomorrow night, Stefan,” she replied.
“Why are you suddenly being so helpful?” I asked Hugo suspiciously.
Hugo showed his pointy teeth in a small smile. “If you free Damon with the human’s help, there’ll be no need for us to get involved. Now, go get dressed!”
I rolled my eyes but followed Percy up the stairs. He handed me a white linen shirt and a pair of black trousers.
For a moment I wished that I had brand-new clothes and pomade to slick my hair back with. But then I reminded myself of what I’d told Lexi: Right now, I just had to focus on getting to know Callie Gallagher, and, subsequently, learn what made Patrick Gallagher tick.
But even though I kept telling myself that Damon was my reason for going on this date, I couldn’t help but notice that my mind kept drifting back to the moment when Callie kissed my cheek.
Chapter 22
I straightened the cuffs on my neatly pressed white shirt and buttoned my overcoat. The shiny brass buttons glinted in the lamplight as I turned the corner onto Laurel Street.
I wiped my face, to make sure no blood lingered on my lips. I’d visited my barmaid from Miladies, sating my hunger before my evening out on the town with Callie. The barmaid’s blood had tasted sweet, like lilies dipped in honey. The second the warmth had hit my tongue, my senses had become honed and the world had sharpened around the edges.
Now the cicadas shrieked in my ears and the smell of roses assaulted my nose, but my stomach was calm and my veins were sated. I was ready for my date.
The park at the end of the street was filled with magnolias and ancient elm trees, and in the center, a marble fountain was topped with a sculpture of a naked woman. Through the burble of the fountain, I could hear the beating of a human heart.
“Hello?” I called.
“Stefan!” Callie stepped out from behind a stone cherub into the weak light of a gas lamp. Her red hair, a flame in the flickering light, hung loose and curly around her shoulders. She wore a simple, cream-colored dress, with a lace bodice and a flouncy skirt that draped over her tiny hips.
Blood raced through my body.
“What?” Callie said, reddening as she noticed my stare.
“You look, uh, like a girl,” I said. She looked beautiful.
“Gee, thanks.” Callie rolled her eyes and softly slugged my shoulder. “You’re just used to seeing me in work clothes.” She gazed at me. “You look quite handsome.”
I cleared my throat and tugged on my collar. Suddenly my clothes felt uncomfortable and constricting, and the night air stuffy. I wondered briefly if the barmaid had something in her blood that hadn’t agreed with me. “Thank you,” I said formally.
“Stefan?” Callie lifted her arm expectantly.
“
Oh, of course.” I took her arm in mine. Her freckled hand grazed my palm. I flinched and readjusted so that her hand was resting on the soft fabric of my jacket.
“Where to, Miss Gallagher?”
She looked up at me, a smile on her face. “Bourbon Street, of course.”
Callie guided me through cobblestone side streets, where gardenias dripped from balconies. On a whim, I grabbed one and tucked it behind her ear. Back home in Mystic Falls, it was customary to bring flowers or a small token when visiting with a lady.
“Want to know a secret?” Callie whispered.
“What?” I asked, curious. I was already the bearer of too many secrets. But perhaps Callie’s could lead me to Damon . . .
She got up on tiptoe and cupped my ear with her hand. The sound of her blood pumping beneath her skin magnified tenfold. I gritted my teeth, forcing my fangs back down. “Your shirt has come untucked,” she whispered.
“Oh,” I said, as I self-consciously smoothed down my shirt. “Thanks.”
Callie let out a gleeful laugh. “You know what I really want to see?” she asked, grabbing my arm.
“What?” I asked, trying to devote all my energy to not listening to the steady thrum of her blood.
“A burlesque show. Madame X has a show everyone’s been talking about,” she said.
We walked together through the town, past bustling crowds and wavering street carts, ending up in a well-kept neighborhood in front of a pristine, stately house. A simple placard next to the door read MADAME X in black script. Soft lamplight shone from all the windows, and carriages pulled up, one after another, to the front gate, releasing their well-dressed passengers into the depths of the club.
I momentarily panicked. I didn’t have any money. And I was wearing a schoolboy’s clothes that hadn’t been in style since the turn of the century.
“Callie, I think . . .” I began, trying to come up with an alternate idea for our evening when the front door swung open to greet us.
“Good evening. Are you guests of the house?” The man’s eyes flicked down my old clothes. I was wildly underdressed for this venue, and I knew it. Callie, however, looked radiant.
“Yes,” Callie jumped in, straightening her shoulders.
“And your names?”
From the way Callie’s lips flattened, I could tell she hadn’t realized there was a guest list. I stepped in front of her, suddenly inspired. “We’re the Picards. Remy and his wife, Calliope.”
“One moment, sir.” The man waddled in his slippers over to a podium holding a list that almost certainly did not include Mr. Remy Picard’s name. He turned a page, then turned it back.
“What are you doing, Stefan?” Callie whispered.
“I have it under control,” I said quietly. “Just smile and look pretty.”
The man returned, looking genuinely distressed.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but your name is not on our list for tonight.” He glanced around, as if ready to beckon a security guard if we made trouble.
I want you to let us in without asking us any more questions, I thought, channeling all my energy. “We’d really like to come in,” I said aloud, concentrating on looking deep into his eyes, ignoring Callie’s curious gaze boring into my back. “Are you sure you didn’t see our names on the list?”
The man’s eyes flickered.
Let us in without looking at the list.
“You know, I believe I might have seen your names. In fact, I’m sure I did. The Picards! I’m sorry. It was my confusion. Right this way,” he said, a slightly vacant expression on his face. He led us through large double doors and into a sumptuous parlor. Low crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the air smelled of jasmine, magnolia, and freesia.
“Enjoy your stay at Madame X’s. And if I can be of any assistance to either of you, don’t hesitate to come fetch me,” the man said, turning on his heel.
“Thank you,” I said.
Callie simply stood there, looking slack-jawed at me. “How did you do that?”
I shrugged. “I just made him doubt himself. He wouldn’t want to say no to the Picards, whoever they are. Besides, what if our names were on the list, and he said no to us, then we complained to the owner?” Secretly, I was thrilled. My Power was strengthening.
“So I take it that this isn’t your first time sneaking in where you don’t belong?”
I glanced at her slyly. “You of all people should know that to be true.”
She laughed, and I gave her an impromptu twirl. People stared at us. Even though a pianist was playing a jaunty tune in the corner, this wasn’t a room where people danced. Instead, guests drifted from one conversation to the next as they sucked on cigars and gulped down champagne.
“Do you know anyone here?” I asked as we brushed past couple after couple, all clad in finery.
Callie shrugged, the shadow of a frown crossing her face. She glanced around the room. “They all hate Father. They say he’s a Unionist who’s taking advantage of New Orleans with his business. And perhaps he is, but at least his show doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not,” she said, jutting her chin.
I shifted in my seat. Wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? Pretending to be someone I wasn’t? I couldn’t look at her, in case she could see the depths of my lies in my eyes.
A server came by with a tray laden with champagne. I grabbed two glasses.
“Cheers,” I said, handing one to Callie.
As we sipped the bubbling liquid, conversations swirled around us, growing louder and more boisterous with every tray of drinks the waiters brought out to serve. Men’s movements grew more languid, women laughed more readily.
“Is your father ready for the next show?” I asked, forcing a conversational note to my voice.
“I suppose so.”
“Who will the vampire be fighting?”
“I don’t know,” Callie said. “A crocodile, or maybe a tiger. It depends on what Father can get on such short notice. Why?”
I shrugged noncommittally. “I want to place a bet.”
“Father wants something cheap. He’s worried people won’t pony up as much money for another animal fight. It seems the monster’s much stronger than a beast.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to process the information.
“But let’s not talk about work. Tonight is supposed to be fun! Lord knows we don’t have enough of it in our real lives.” Callie’s voice grew melancholy. “Speaking of fun,” she said, pointing to a small crowd moving through a set of double doors at the back of the club, “I think the burlesque show is back there.”
“Shall we?” I asked, offering my arm.
The back room, much smaller than the first one, had numerous wooden tables crammed onto the floor. A stage was set up at the front of the room, and the space was dimly lit by candles. Instead of joining the crush toward the front, Callie and I sat back on a low-slung, red velvet bench beneath a large mirror in the back of the room.
As soon as everyone settled into seats, a master of ceremonies took to the stage. I was surprised to see that he was a man wearing a dinner suit and cape. I’d imagined a burlesque show to be louder, larger than this, with plenty of music and scantily clad women.
“Good evening! As we’ve all heard, we have a vampire in our midst,” he said dramatically.
Audience members tittered nervously. I glanced at Callie out of the corner of my eye. Was this some sort of trap? Did she know what I was? But Callie was leaning forward, as if mesmerized by the man’s words.
The master of ceremonies smiled, drinking in the suspense. “Yes, a vampire. Down at that two-bit circus by the lake.”
Jeers filled the room. Callie hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said her father was infamous in this town. I turned to look at her. Although her cheeks were as red as her hair, she gazed straight ahead, her elbows on her knees.
“And eyewitnesses say Gallagher had to chain his up so it won’t run away. But, here at Madame X’s, our vamp
ire has come to visit all on his own.”
“We can go if you want,” I whispered.
But Callie shook her head and clasped my hand. It felt warm against my cool skin, but this time I didn’t push her away. “No, I want to stay.”
A thin man walked onstage, clad in a black cape. His face was powdered, and thin lines of fake blood were drawn from the corners of his lips. He smiled at the crowd, revealing fake fangs. I shifted in my seat.
“I am a vampire, and you all are my prey! Come to me, my pretties!” he cackled, in an exaggerated voice that made me squirm. The “vampire” stalked around the stage, his teeth bared and his eyes scanning the audience. A woman in a pearl-embroidered gown stood up from a table in the front and walked toward the stage as if in a trance, emitting a low moan with each step.
“The vampire has special eyes that can see through clothing. And this vampire, ladies and gentlemen, likes what he sees!” The master of ceremonies leered at the audience.
At this, the audience applauded enthusiastically.
I glanced at Callie again. Had she known this was a show about vampires?
“But, now, the vampire has his hunger awakened. And what he’ll do to feed the hunger, you won’t believe,” the master of ceremonies said as the vampire onstage waved his hands toward the woman, as if conducting an orchestra. As he did that, a trumpet player began playing a slow, mournful tune. The woman began to move her hips, slowly at first, and then more and more quickly until she looked as though she would topple over.
“Maybe Father should give our vampire dance lessons,” Callie whispered, her breath hot on my cheek.
Then, suddenly, the vampire stopped waving his arms. The music stopped, and so did the woman. The vampire lurched toward her, took hold of the sleeve of her dress, and tore it off, exposing her milky-white arm.
“Do you feel wicked tonight?” the vampire called to the audience, waggling the fabric toward the crowd. Then he tore off the other sleeve.
My stomach turned.
“I ask you, do you feel wicked tonight?” he called again, tossing the fabric into the audience.
