The ticket taker’s face went slack, and he took a step back. “My mistake. Go ahead, gentlemen. I’m sorry about the confusion.” His voice was distant as he tipped his hat, then stood aside to let us walk into the gentlemen’s club car.
As soon as the door shut behind us, I grabbed Damon’s arm.
“How did you do that?” I asked. Had Katherine taught him how to drop his voice, gaze his victim in the eye, and force the poor lad to do his bidding? I clenched my jaw, wondering if she’d mentioned how easy it had been for her to compel me. Images flashed into my mind: Katherine widening her eyes, begging me to keep her secret, to stop my father from hunting her. I shook my head, as if to fling the images from my brain.
“Who’s in charge now, brother?” Damon drawled, collapsing into an empty leather seat and yawning, his hands stretched above his head as if he were ready to settle down for a long nap.
“You’re going to sleep now? Of all times?” I exclaimed.
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I repeated dumbly. I held out my arms, gesturing to our surroundings. We sat among well- dressed men in top hats and waistcoats, who, despite the hour, were busily patronizing the wood-paneled bar in the corner. A group of older men played poker, while young men in captain’s uniforms whispered over tumblers of whiskey. We went unnoticed in this crowd. There were no vampire compasses revealing our true identities. No one so much as glanced in our direction as we sat down.
I perched on the ottoman opposite Damon. “Don’t you see?” I said. “No one knows us here. This is our chance.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t see.” Damon inhaled deeply. “Smell that?”
The warm, spicy scent of blood filled my nostrils, and the thud of pumping hearts echoed around me like cicadas on a summer evening. Instantly a searing pain ripped through my jaw. I covered my mouth with my hands, looking wildly around to see if anyone had noticed the long canines that had shot out from my gums.
Damon let out a wry chuckle. “You’ll never be free, brother. You’re tethered to blood, to humans. They make you desperate and needy—they make you a killer.”
At the word killer, a man with a rust-colored beard and sun-dyed cheeks glanced sharply at us from across the aisle. I forced a benign smile.
“ You’re going to get us in trouble ,” I hissed under my breath.
“Yes, well, you’ve got only yourself to blame for that,” Damon replied. He closed his eyes, signaling the end of our conversation.
I sighed and glanced out the window. We were probably only thirty miles outside of Mystic Falls, but it felt as though everything I’d known before had simply ceased to exist. Even the weather was new—the rain shower had ended, and the autumn sun now poked through wispy clouds, penetrating the glass that separated the train from the outside world. It was curious: While our rings protected us from the sun searing our flesh, the burning orb made me feel slightly drowsy.
Pushing myself to stand, I took refuge in the dark aisles that led from compartment to compartment. I passed from walking between the plush velvet seats of the first-class cars to the wooden benches of second class.
Finally, I made myself comfortable in an empty sleeper cabin, drew the curtains, closed my eyes, and opened my ears.
Hope those Union boys get out of New Orleans and leave it to ourselves . . .
Once you see those beauties on Bourbon Street, your Virginia virgin won’t look the same . . .
You’ve got to be careful. There’s voodoo down there, and some say it’s where demons come out to play . . .
I smiled. New Orleans sounded like the perfect place to call home.
I settled into the makeshift bed, content to relax and let the train rock me into some sort of slumber. I found that I fed much better after I had rested.
A day later, the train screeched to a stop. “Baton Rouge!” a conductor called in the distance.
We were getting closer to New Orleans, but the time was creeping by far too slowly for my liking. I flattened my back against the wall of the car, noticing passengers hastily packing up their belonging as they prepared to vacate their quarters, when my eye fell upon a green ticket, emblazoned with a large boot print. I knelt down and picked it up. Mr. Remy Picard, Richmond to New Orleans.
I tucked it into my pocket and jauntily walked back through the train, until I felt someone gazing at me curiously. I turned around. Two sisters were smiling at me through the window of a private compartment, their expressions bemused. One was working on a piece of needlepoint, the other writing in a leather-bound diary. They were being watched with hawk-like intensity by a short, plump woman in her sixties, clad in all black, most likely their aunt or guardian.
I opened the door.
“Sir?” the woman said, turning toward me. I locked my gaze onto her watery blue eyes.
“I believe you left something in the dining car,” I said. “Something you need.” I continued, copying Damon’s low, steady voice. Her eyes shifted, but I sensed that this was different from the way the conductor had responded to my words. When I’d tried to compel the conductor, it was as if my thoughts had collided with steel; here, it was as though my thoughts were breaking through fog. She cocked her head, clearly listening.
“I left something . . .” She trailed off, sounding confused. But I could sense something in my brain, a sort of melding of our minds, and I knew she wouldn’t fight me.
Immediately, the woman shifted her bulk and stood up from her seat.
“Why, ah, I believe I did,” she said, turning on her heel and walking back down the hall without a backward glance. The metallic door of the car closed with a click, and I pulled the heavy navy curtains over the little window to the aisle.
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” I said as I bowed to the two girls. “My name is Remy Picard,” I said, surreptitiously gazing down at the ticket poking out of my breast pocket.
“Remy,” the taller girl repeated quietly, as if committing my name to memory. I felt my fangs throb against my gums. I was so hungry, and she was so exquisite . . . I mashed my lips together and forced myself to stand still. Not yet.
“Finally! Aunt Minnie’s never left us alone!” the older girl said. She looked to be about sixteen. “She thinks we aren’t to be trusted.”
“Aren’t you now?” I teased, easing into the flirtation as the compliments and responses volleyed back and forth. As a human, I would have hoped such an exchange would end with a squeeze of the hand or a brush of lips against a cheek. Now, all I could think of was the blood coursing through the girls’ veins.
I sat down next to the older girl, the younger one’s eyes searching me curiously. She smelled like gardenias and bread just out of the oven. Her sister—they must have been sisters, with the same tawny brown hair and darting blue eyes—smelled richer, like nutmeg and freshly fallen leaves. “I’m Lavinia, and this is Sarah Jane. We’re going to move to New Orleans,” the one girl said, putting her needlepoint down on her lap. “Do you know it? I’m worried I’ll miss Richmond horribly,” she said plaintively.
“Our papa died,” Sarah Jane added, her lower lip trembling.
I nodded, running my tongue along my teeth, feeling my fangs. Lavinia’s heart was beating far faster than her sister’s.
“Aunt Minnie wants to marry me off. Will you tell me what’s it like, Remy?” Lavinia pointed to the ring on my fourth finger. Little did she know that the ring had nothing to do with marriage and everything to do with being able to hunt girls like her in broad daylight.
“Being married is lovely, if you meet the right man. Do you think you’ll meet the right man?” I asked, staring into her eyes.
“I . . . I don’t know. I suppose if he’s anything like you, then I should count myself lucky.” Her breath was hot on my cheek, and I knew that I couldn’t control myself for much longer.
“Sarah Jane, I bet your auntie needs some help,” I said, glancing into Sarah Jane’s blue eyes. She paused for a moment, then excused herself and went to find her aunt. I had no idea if I was compelling her or if she was simply following my orders, because she was a child and I was an adult.
“Oh, you’re wicked, aren’t you?” Lavinia asked, her eyes flashing as she smiled at me.
