The Bloodlust (5 page)

Chapter 9

I
crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first.

The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip.

“I’m one of you,” I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display.

“Oh, he’s one of us!” an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my father’s.

I kept my face impassive. “I have no ill business with you, brothers.”

“We are not your brothers,” said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard.

The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. “So, brother, nice evening to dine . . . or die. What do you think?”

The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. “Looks like he’ll do both tonight. Lucky boy,” he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air.

“No, no, no.” While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. “Don’t be disrespectful. We’re your elders. And you’ve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Molly’s house is any indication.” He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasn’t anything of the sort.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then I’d die in a fight.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldn’t budge.

The elder vampire chuckled. “Can’t control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.” With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength I’d never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards.

I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. “I didn’t mean to do anything. I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking on the word.

“Do you mean it?” the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way.

“Yes. Yes! I didn’t mean to come in here. I didn’t know anyone was here. I only just arrived in New Orleans,” I said, scrambling for an excuse.

“Silence!” he commanded, advancing toward me, a jagged piece of wood in his hand. I pressed my spine into the damaged wall. So this is how it would end. With me dying on a makeshift stake, killed by my own kind.

Two hands crushed my arms, while another two pinned my ankles together so forcefully that it felt as though I were stuck under boulders. I closed my eyes. An image of Father lying prone on his study floor swam to the forefront of my mind, and I shook my head in agony, remembering his sweating, terrified face. Of course, I’d been trying to save him, but he hadn’t known that. If he was watching, as an angel or a demon or a mere specter condemned to haunt the world, he’d be thrilled to see this scene unfold.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to evoke some other memory to the fore of my mind, one that would take me to another place, another time. But all I could think of were my victims, of the moment when my fangs sliced into their skin, their plaintive wails descending into silence, the blood dripping down my fangs and onto my chin. Soon, all the blood I’d taken would be released, seeping out of my own body and back into the Earth, as I was left to die, for real this time, forever, on this wooden floor.

“Enough!” A female voice sliced through the montage in my mind. Immediately, the vampires let go of my hands and feet. My eyes sprang open, and I saw a woman gliding through a narrow wooden door in the back. Her long blond hair descended in a single plait down her back, and she wore men’s black pants and suspenders. She was tall, though slight as a child, and all the other vampires shrank away from her in fear.

“You,” she said, kneeling next to me. “Who are you?” Her amber eyes gazed into mine. They were clear and curious, but there was something about them—the darkness of the pupils, perhaps—that seemed ancient and knowing, which stood in sharp contrast to her rosy-cheeked, unlined face.

“Stefan Salvatore,” I answered her.

“Stefan Salvatore,” she repeated in a perfect Italian accent. Although teasing, her voice didn’t seem unkind. She ran a finger gently along my jaw, then placed her palm against my chest and she pressed me against the wall, hard. The suddenness of the movement stunned me, but as I sat, pinned and helpless, she brought her other wrist to her mouth, using her fang to puncture the vein. She dragged her wrist along her teeth, creating a small stream of blood.

“Drink,” she commanded, bringing her wrist to my lips.

I did as I was told, managing to get a few drops of the liquid down my throat before she yanked her hand away. “That’s enough. That should fix your wounds at any rate.”

“He and his brother have been wreaking havoc all over town,” the large vampire said, his makeshift stake pointed at me like a rifle.

“Just me,” I said quickly. “My brother had no part in it.” Damon would never survive the wrath of these demons. Not in his weakened state.

The blond vampire wrinkled her nose as she leaned even closer toward me.

“You’re what, a week old?” she asked, leaning back on her heels.

“Almost two weeks,” I said defiantly, lifting my chin.

She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips, and stood, surveying the shop. The plaster wall was partially caved in, and blood smeared the floor and speckled the walls, as though a child had stood in the center of the room and twirled around with a wet paintbrush. She tsked, and the three male vampires simultaneously took a step back. I shivered.

“Percy, come here, and bring that knife,” she said.

With a sigh, the youngest vampire produced a long carving knife from behind his back.

“He wasn’t following the rules,” he said petulantly, reminding me of the Giffin boys back home. They were both bullies, always ready to kick a kid in the schoolyard and then turn around and tell a teacher they had nothing to do with it.

She took the knife and stared at it, running the pad of her index finger over the gleaming blade. Then she held it back out to Percy. He hesitated a moment, but finally stepped forward to take it. Just then the girl’s canines elongated and her eyes flushed bloodred. With a growl, she stabbed Percy right in the chest. He fell to his knees, doubled over in silent agony.

“You hunt this vampire for making a scene in town,” she seethed, stabbing the knife in farther, “and yet you attempt to destroy him in this public space, in this shop? You’re just as foolish as he is.”

The young vampire staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, as though he’d spilled coffee on himself. He grimaced as he pulled the knife out with a sucking sound. “I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“Thank you.” The woman held her wrist toward Percy’s mouth. Despite her youthful look and apparently violent temper, she also had a mothering quality that the other vampires seemed to accept, as if her stabbings were as normal to them as a light swat would be to a high-spirited child.

She turned toward me. “I’m sorry for your troubles, Stefan. Now, can I help you be on your way?” she asked.

I looked around wildly. I’d thought no further ahead than escaping this room. “I . . .”

“. . . don’t have anywhere to go,” she said with a sigh, finishing my thought. She glanced toward the other vampires, who were now huddled in the corner of the room, heads bent in conversation.

“I’ll just be going,” I said, struggling to my feet. My leg was fine, but my arms shook, and my breath came erratically. With local vampires watching my every move, where would I go? How would I feed?

“Nonsense, you’re coming with us,” she said, turning on her heel and walking out the door. She pointed to the young vampire and the one who wore glasses. “Percy and Hugo, stay and clean this place up.”

I had to practically run to keep up with her and the tall, scarred vampire who’d watched my torture. “You’ll need someone to show you around,” she explained, pausing only slightly. “This is Buxton,” she said, grabbing the elbow of the vampire with the long scar.

We walked down street after street until we neared a church with a tall spire.

“We’re here,” she said, turning sharply to enter a wrought-iron gate. Her boots echoed against a slate path that led to the rear of a house. She opened the door, and a musty scent greeted me. Buxton immediately walked through the parlor and up a set of stairs, leaving me and the young female vampire alone in the darkness.

“Welcome home,” she said, spreading her hands wide. “There are plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Find one that suits you.”

“Thank you.” As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. Black velvet curtains fastened with golden rope blocked every window. Dust motes floated in the air, and gilt-framed paintings covered the walls. The furniture was threadbare, and I could just make out two sweeping staircases with what looked like oriental runners and, in the next room, a piano. Though at one point this must have been a grand house, now the soiled walls were cracked and peeling, and cobwebs draped over the gold-and-crystal chandelier above us.

“Always enter through the back. Never draw back the curtains. Don’t ever bring anyone here. Do you understand, Stefan?” She looked at me pointedly.

“Yes,” I said, running a finger along the marble fireplace, cutting a path in the inch-thick dust.

“Then I think you will like it here,” she said.

I turned to face her, nodding in agreement. My panic had subsided, and my arms no longer trembled.

“I’m Lexi,” she said, holding out her hand, allowing me to raise it to my lips and kiss it. “I have a feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.”

Chapter 10

I
awoke next as dusk was settling over the city. From my window, I could see the goldfish-orange sun sinking low behind a white steeple. The entire house was silent, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. Then everything came back: the butcher shop, the vampires, me being flung against the wall.

Lexi.

As if on cue, she glided into the room, barely making a sound as she pushed open the door. Her blond hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple black dress. If looked at quickly, she could be mistaken for a child. But I could tell from the slight creases around her eyes and the fullness of her lips that she’d been a full-grown woman, probably around nineteen or twenty. I had no idea how many years she’d seen since then.

She perched on the edge of my bed, smoothing back my hair.

“Good evening, Stefan,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. She clutched a tumbler of dark liquid between her fingers. “You slept,” she noted.

I nodded. Until I’d sunk into the featherbed on the third floor of the house, I hadn’t realized that I’d barely slept in the past week. Even on the train, I’d always been twitching, aware of the sighs and snores of my fellow passengers and always,
always
the steady thrum of blood coursing through their veins. But here no heartbeats had kept me from slumber.

“I brought this for you,” she said, proffering the glass. I pushed it away. The blood in it smelled stale, sour.

“You need to drink,” she said, sounding so much like me speaking to Damon that I couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of irritation—and sorrow. I brought the tumbler to my lips and took a tiny sip, fighting the urge to spit it out. As I expected, the drink tasted like dank water and the scent made me feel vaguely ill.

Lexi smiled to herself, as if enjoying a private joke. “It’s goat’s blood. It’s good for you. You’ll make yourself sick, the way you were feeding. A diet made exclusively of human blood isn’t good for the digestion. Or the soul.”

“We don’t have souls,” I scoffed. But I brought the cup to my lips once more.

Lexi sighed and took the tumbler, placing it on the nightstand next to me. “So much to learn,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“Well, we have nothing but time, right?” I pointed out. I was rewarded with a rich laugh, which was surprisingly loud and throaty coming from her waif-like body.

“You catch on quickly. Come. Get up. It’s time to show you our city,” she said, handing me a plain white shirt and trousers.

After changing, I followed her down the creaking wooden stairs to where the other vampires milled about in the ballroom. They were dressed up, but all looked faintly old-fashioned, as if they’d stepped out of one of the many portraits on the wall. Hugo sat at the piano, playing an out-of-tune rendition of Mozart while wearing a blue velvet cape. Buxton, the hulking, violent vampire, was wearing a loose, ruffled, white shirt. and Percy had on faded britches and suspenders that made him look as though he were running late to play a game of ball with his schoolmates.

When they saw me, the vampires froze. Hugo managed a slight nod, but the rest merely stared in stony silence.

“Let’s go!” Lexi commanded, leading our group out the door, down the slate path, through zigzagging alleyways, and finally onto a street marked Bourbon. Each entryway led to a dimly lit bar, from which inebriated patrons stumbled out into the night air. Suggestively clad women gathered in clumps beneath awnings, and revelers acted punch-drunk, ready to laugh or fight at a moment’s notice. I instantly knew why Lexi took us here. Despite our odd attire, we attracted no more attention than any of the other lively revelers.

As we walked, the others flanked me, keeping me in the center of their circle at all times. I knew I was being watched sharply, and I tried to remain unaffected by the scent of blood and the rhythm of beating hearts.

“Here!” Lexi said, not bothering to consult the rest of the group as she pushed open a saloon door that read
M
ILADIES
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.