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.
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.
