The Craving

their midst.

I beckoned for the hostess to come over.

‘Has D— uh, the Count DeSangue been by here tonight?’ I asked.

The girl looked me up and down, face flushing with excitement. ‘With him accused of murder and this being his favourite place and me being his favourite girl, what on earth would make me tell you something like that?’

I could see by the thick scarf she wore around her neck that she wasn’t just warding off the cold night air – this had definitely been one of Damon’s haunts.

I started to reach into my pocket for bribe money. She saw where I was going and shook her head. ‘Not on your life, love. Not for Damon.’

‘You have no idea who he is, or what you’re getting involved in,’ I growled, grabbing her wrist. Her face fell and she tried to struggle out of my grasp. ‘Listen to me. I’m Stefan Salvatore – the other man accused of murdering the Sutherlands. Neither one of us did it, all right? We’re both on the run from the police. Now tell me where he is.’

I didn’t compel her. I didn’t exactly threaten her. But she nodded mutely and I relaxed my grip.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, rubbing her wrist. ‘I know he liked a drink at some of those fancy uptown places like the Skinny Black Cat and Xerxes’ Repose. He even had his own table at the Twenty-Two Club.’

At that moment a waitress came out. ‘Are you talking about the count?’ she asked, an excited grin spreading across her face.

I sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, he once took me to Strange Fruit just a few blocks down.’

‘He took you on a date?’ the hostess said, envy apparent in her voice. The waitress nodded proudly.

‘Thank you,’ I said, meaning it. Lexi or Damon would have compelled the women to forget me at that point. I sighed, thinking about how much easier life would be if my Powers were stronger and my will weaker.

I checked Winfield’s pocket watch. It was five A.M.; an hour had passed since Lexi and I had first entered the mansion. Time was ticking by far too quickly for my liking, and every minute seemed to seal Lexi’s fate more completely.

Seconds later I was standing inside the door of Strange Fruit, a large, low, dark bar with giant wooden fans slowly turning overhead. The sailors who couldn’t get into the oyster bar were there, along with every type of shady personality, lost soul and criminal genius that managed to stay just this side of the law.

Damon sat at a small rickety table by himself in his shirtsleeves, a half-empty bottle of bourbon before him.

‘Nursing your wounds?’ I asked, walking over. He didn’t even bother looking surprised.

‘A minor setback, brother. Don’t forget I have those dowry cheques. As soon as things quiet down a bit I, and they, are out of this town.’

‘Doubtful any bank would cash a cheque for a suspected murderer.’

‘You really need to stop thinking like a human and start thinking like a vampire. There is no bank teller I can’t compel.’

He stretched languorously and poured some drink into his glass. Then he offered the glass to me, and chugged a big swallow directly from the bottle.

‘I need your help,’ I said, pushing the glass away. I handed him the piece of paper and filled him in on what had happened.

He squinted his eyes as he read it. ‘So?’

I looked at him, gape-mouthed.

‘He has Lexi,’ I said. Then, afraid he was too drunk to understand what that meant, I pointed out the obvious. ‘We have to save her!’

‘Mm.’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘Nope.’

He made a big show of slowly kicking his legs up onto the table, as if he had been in the midst of an important activity when I had interrupted him.

‘What is wrong with you?’ I demanded. ‘You saw him – he’ll destroy her!’

‘So what?’ Damon asked. ‘It was her choice to come to New York. No one asked her to come up here.’

‘She got us out of prison—’

‘We, excuse me, I was doing just fine in that department. You forget. We could have gotten out on our own. We didn’t need her for that. She was meddling. If further meddling got her captured, well, that’s her own damn fault.’

The anger that had ignited in me upon finding the note from the beast was now stoked into a rage that almost had me turning into full vampire mode. For just a moment, I didn’t care who saw me.

‘You,’ I said, trying to calm down, trying to put the blackness I felt into words. Damon sat up and looked me in the eye almost eagerly, waiting for the fight.

‘You are…you are…’ I spat.

‘I am what you made me,’ he said dully, lifting his glass as though to toast me.

I grabbed his shoulders. ‘No. You don’t have to be a heartless killer. Even Katherine wasn’t that.’

His eyes flashed. ‘Don’t speak to me about who Katherine was! I knew her better than you did.’

I shook my head. ‘Even you know that’s not true. You loved her more, but I knew her just as well. All Katherine wanted was for the three of us to be together forever. She would not have wanted us to be at odds, fighting. She would not have wanted this.’

The surprise and anger on his face at what I’d said was almost worth it. Almost. ‘I’m going to save Lexi. Or die trying. And if by some miracle I don’t die – I never want to see you again.’

And before he could prepare some witty comeback or threat, I banged my way out into the night, leaving my brother behind forever.

CHAPTER 25

Anger was all I had left, and I let rage fuel me the way human blood had in my first weeks as a vampire. I couldn’t believe Damon’s indifference, couldn’t understand who he’d become. But him not helping didn’t change what I needed to do: save Lexi.

Across the street a gentleman on a coal-black mare was talking amiably down to a shopkeeper. The moment the shopkeeper went in to get something I grabbed the horse’s reins and, breaking my vow for the second time in twenty-four hours, I compelled the rider to dismount and enjoy a nice long walk back home.

Though normally I’d be faster than a horse, I was hungry and drained, so with gentle whispers and a crack of the reins I was off uptown, loudly galloping on the New York City streets. She was a fine beast and responded to my every gentle nudge, the slightest clench of my knees. With the wind in my hair and the leather in my grip, I almost felt like my old self again.

But the sky was beginning to lighten in that hushed crystal blue of early morning, and I had to urge every last bit of speed out of the horse. Lexi’s life might depend on it.

As we mounted the long drive up to the Richards’ and took the small path to the family chapel on the right, I knew I had made the right decision. I could smell the old one’s presence, the miasma of old blood, death and decay that followed around him like a shadow. My horse whinnied in terror.

I leaped off the horse before she had really stopped and gave her a gentle spank. ‘Go home,’ I ordered. She reared up, as if unwilling to give up her newfound freedom, then turned and galloped away.

I ran into the great hall where I was wed, pushing aside a lone servant who stood in my way.

Lexi was there, tied to the altar like an ancient sacrifice. The smell of vervain burned my nose – her ropes had clearly been soaked in it. The sun had risen, and its presence came in the form of a blood-red puddle from an east-facing stained glass window. As the light slowly moved towards her feet she squirmed and gasped, trying to pull her legs out of the way. A wisp of smoke rose up where the deadly sun had just begun to touch her toes, and the strange smell of burning flesh filled the room.