by L. J. Smith
The crowd cheered as the dancer continued her gyrations, rubbing her back against the “vampire.” Slowly, she peeled away her clothing, item by item, sending a silk stocking or a slip into the audience until most of her body was on display.
As the music picked up speed, she got closer to becoming entirely nude. At last, she sat in a chair on the stage as the master of ceremonies pulled off the last bit of her top, forcing her to cover herself with her hands.
“As he is a beast from hell, the only way to stop a vampire is with a stake to the heart. But they can also be kept away with a crucifix . . .”
At this, the dancer pantomimed a futile search for pockets that might contain a stake or crucifix.
I slumped in my chair, thinking of my own attacks. Of Alice, of Lavinia, of the nurse whose name I’d never known. There was nothing beautiful or romantic about those attacks. They were quick, bloody, deadly. I’d ended their lives without a second thought, with swift violence and a thirst for more.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked.
For the first time, I realized how tightly I’d been clutching her hand. I loosened my grip, and instantly she snuggled closer to me in my seat. Her blood pumped like sweet music through her body, and the warmth of her body soothed my anger. I relaxed into her, taking in the softness of her voice as she laughed at the play. Callie was warm and soft and so very alive . I wanted this moment to freeze, to last into eternity, with nothing but me and Callie and her beating heart. There was nothing else I needed in that moment, not blood, not power, not D—
My body tensed and I sat straight up. What was I doing? Had I forgotten my brother, what I had done to him, so quickly?
I stood up.
“Down in front!” a voice barked a few rows behind me.
“I-I’m sorry. I have to go,” I said, stumbling toward the door.
“Stefan, wait!” she called.
But I kept going until I was on the street, running from the late-night bustle all the way to the riverbank. As I stared down at my reflection in the swirling water, Percy’s words echoed in my head: “You’ll either want to kill her or kiss her, and neither scenario will end well for you.”
He was right. Because while I truly didn’t know whether I wanted to kiss or bite Callie, I knew I wanted her .
Chapter 23
October 9, 1864
I am not supposed to have a heart. A bullet went through it nearly three weeks ago, and no blood of my own will ever pump through it again. The only blood that now courses through my veins is that of whomever I happen to attack. And yet something about Callie causes my dead heart to flutter and the stolen blood to quicken in my body.
Is it real? Or is it a mere memory of something that used to be? Damon once told me that on the battlefield, boys who’d undergone amputations still woke up to agonizing pain in their legs or cried for the hand that ached, though those limbs were no longer part of them. But while those boys had phantom limbs, it seems I have a phantom heart.
In my short time in New Orleans, I’ve learned about my Power. It’s what has driven me, what I’ve thrived on, what makes me a vampire. But that’s not the only power I possess. The other kind isn’t exciting, or thrilling, or dangerous. It’s mundane and tedious—the exercising of control over my Power. I’ve had to learn to suppress my urges to fit in and to remain with Lexi.
Yet when I was with Callie at the show, it was as though my two powers were at cross-purposes, each threatening to destroy the other in a private battle in my brain.
Now she enters my thoughts constantly. The constellation of freckles on her skin. Her long eyelashes. Her vibrant smile. I can’t help but admire the way she wields her own power. How she commands the attention and respect of her father’s employees, but also how she grows soft around me, cuddling close when she thinks no one is looking.
I think of my hand interlaced with hers.
And every time an image of Callie floats to my consciousness, I curse myself. I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t think of her. I should put her out of my mind, write her off as a silly little girl who is lucky I’m letting her live.
But deep down, despite my Power, I know Callie has control over me—and my phantom heart.
The next morning, I returned to the freak show, with only one thing on my mind: freeing Damon.
“Hello, friend!” the strong man, Arnold, greeted me as I walked through the gateway to the fairgrounds.
“Hello,” I muttered.
The tattooed woman came up behind him and gazed at me quizzically. Without her India-inked designs, she was actually quite pretty, with high cheekbones and wide, inquisitive eyes. “What are you doing here?”
I grunted in response.
“You’ll want to apologize to Callie.” She pointed at the side of the tent.
So Callie had already told her friends about our disastrous evening. Just as I had feared. I walked around the grounds until I saw Callie kneeling over a piece of birch wood at her feet. Paint splattered her overalls, and her red hair was twisted on top of her head and held in place by a single, slender, long-handled paintbrush. The sign said:
A PENNY A PEEK: A REAL, LIVE, HUNGRY VAMPIRE. ENTER IF YOU DARE!
Underneath was a crude drawing of a vampire: fangs elongated, eyes squinting, blood trickling down both sides of his mouth. The features were Damon’s, but it was clear Callie had drawn significant artistic inspiration from the burlesque show last night.
Callie looked up, catching me staring. Her mouth made a round O, and she dropped her brush onto the canvas. A large black spot suddenly appeared on Damon’s face.
“Look what you made me do,” she said angrily.
I stuck my hands in my pockets, subtly sniffing the air for traces of Damon. “I’m sorry.”
Callie sighed in annoyance. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to stop distracting me so I can get some work done.”
“Do you want me to help you fix the painting?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. They hung between us for a long moment, both of us seemingly surprised by my offer.
“Fix the painting?” Callie echoed, putting her hands on her hips. “Am I hearing you correctly? Fix the painting ?”
“Yes?” I fumbled.
“Are you aware that you left me last night to get home alone, with no explanation?” Her chin was jutted out, and her stance was aggressive, but her lower lip wobbled, and I could tell she was hurt.
“Callie,” I began. Excuses flew through my head. I work for your father. We should not sneak around. You’re just a girl, and I’m a vampire . . . Even though part of me was furious at her for allowing her father to parade Damon around like livestock, to let him fight perhaps until death, the other part knew that she had as little sway over her father as I’d had with mine. And now all I could think about was making her lip stop wobbling.
“It’s better this way,” I said, twisting my ring around my finger.
She shook her head and stabbed the sharp wooden end of the paintbrush into the dirt. It remained there, as if it were a tiny surrender flag after a battle. “No explanation necessary. We’ve known each other a week. You don’t owe me an explanation. That’s the best thing about strangers: You don’t owe them anything,” she said crisply.
I rocked back on my heels. A silence hung between us. The image of Damon glared up at me, seemingly mocking my ineffectiveness.
“Well, aren’t you going to get to work?” she asked. “Or are we just paying you to stand around?”
Before I could turn to leave, Jasper burst out of a small black tent at the edge of the property. “We need some extra hands!”
A lanky man trailed behind him, cradling his forearm close to his chest.
Callie leaped to her feet. “What happened?”
As the man held out his hand, blood flowed down his arm onto the ground. I averted my eyes. Even so, pain rippled along my jaw as I felt my fangs grow.
“The vampire’s fighting today. We need more men.”
Jasper gasped breathlessly, his eyes falling on me.
“Stefan,” Callie said in a tone that wasn’t a question.
Jasper and the stocky man stared at me.
“Well then, come on, new guy. Show us you’re Gallagher material,” Jasper said, jerking his chin in the direction of the tent.
“Of course,” I said slowly, a plan forming in my mind. I could pick out four separate heartbeats in the tent. There would be copious amounts of vervain, of course, but I’d been feeding regularly enough that I might be able to overcome the men. Four I could handle, but five . . . I turned to Jasper. “Why don’t you and Callie take care of your man here and I’ll join the others in the tent?”
“ I’m coming, brother ,” I added under my breath.
Callie squinted at me. “Did you say something?”
“No,” I said quickly.
Jasper shifted from foot to foot, sizing me up with his eyes. “Callie will take care of Charley here, and I’ll take care of you. Teach you the tricks of monster wrangling,” he said, clapping me on the back, pushing me toward the tent.
With each step the scent of vervain grew stronger, curdling the blood in my veins.
Together, we entered the tent. The interior was hot and dark, the stench of vervain nearly suffocating me. It took every ounce of my strength not to bend at the waist and scream in agony. I forced my eyes open and looked at my brother, who was chained in the corner. Four men yanked on his restraints, trying desperately to keep him in place.
The second Damon’s eyes landed on me, his face lit up.
“ Welcome to hell, brother ,” Damon whispered, his lips barely moving as he locked eyes with me. Then he turned to Jasper. “So, Jasp,” he said, in a conversational tone, as if they were just two men engaged in a friendly talk at a tavern, “you found a new sap to do your dirty work. Well, come on, brother. Let’s see if you can stake me.”
“His bark is worse than his bite,” Jasper said, holding out a stake to me. From its stench I could tell it had been soaked in vervain.
“Give me your gloves,” I said with an air of authority. Touching the wood would give me away instantly.
“Won’t give you much protection. Those fangs can go through anything,” Jasper protested.
“Just give them to me,” I said through clenched teeth. Damon watched the exchange intently, clearly enjoying my predicament.
“Okay, if they’ll make you more comfortable. . . .” Jasper shrugged and handed me his leather gloves. I pulled them over my hands and took the stake from Jasper, my hands trembling slightly. How could something so light be so deadly?
Damon let out a low chuckle. “Is this the best you could rustle up? He looks about ready to keel over.”
I glared at my brother. “ I’m trying to save you ,” I whispered.
Damon just snorted derisively.
“ Please ,” I added.
“ Please what? ” he said, wrapping the chains around his hands.
“Please let me save you.”
“ Sorry. Can’t help you there ,” he said, before yanking on the chains. Two of the guards fell to the ground in surprise.
“Do something!” Jasper said gruffly. “You’ve got to stick him, let him know his place.”
“ Listen to your boss ,” Damon sneered. “Be a man and stab me. A real man isn’t afraid of blood, isn’t that right?”
Jasper bent down and grabbed a stake from the ground.
“C’mon, boy. Earn your keep,” he said, using the side of the stake to nudge me forward. I gasped. Pain shot up and down my skin, as if I’d been touched by a hot poker.
Damon laughed again.
The flap opened, and Callie poked her head through the tent.
I looked wildly over at her. “Callie, you shouldn’t be here!”
Both she and Damon looked at me quizzically. A sickening feeling spread through my limbs. The vervain, the heat, the stakes . . .
Just then, with a simple twist from his chains, Damon broke free and lunged toward Callie. Callie shrieked, and Jasper dove to shield her.
Time seemed to stop, and without thinking, I hurled my stake through Damon’s belly. He fell backward, gasping, blood spurting from the wound.
“ I said, please! ” I hissed wildly, in a voice only Damon could hear. Callie cowered near the flap, her eyes wide as she glanced between me and Damon.
Damon looked up, wheezing as he pulled the stake from his stomach. Then I heard the faintest, hoarse whisper over the shouts of Jasper and the trainers as they moved to re-chain Damon.
“Then please know that your hell hasn’t even yet begun, brother.”
Chapter 24
I ran down to the lake, the sound of the stake ripping through Damon’s flesh echoing in my mind. Once I got to the shore, I stared at my reflection in the water. My hazel eyes stared back, my lips pressed into a thin line. With an angry jerk, I threw a pebble into the pond, shattering my image into a thousand little ripples.
Part of me wanted to jump in the lake, swim to the other side, and never come back. Damn Damon to hell if death was what he wanted so much. But no matter how much I wished he’d die, I couldn’t kill him. Despite everything, we were brothers, and I wanted— needed —to do everything in my power to save him. After all, blood was thicker than water. I laughed bitterly as I thought of the deeper meanings of the metaphor. Blood was also more complicated, more destructive, and more heartbreaking than water.
I sank into the brackish sand at the water’s edge and lay back with a sigh, letting the wan November sun cascade over me. I don’t know how long I remained like that before I felt muffled footfalls vibrate the ground beneath me.
I sighed. I don’t know what I’d hoped to find, coming down to the lake, but my peace and quiet was ruined when Callie sat down next to me.
“Everything okay?” she asked, throwing a small rock into the lake with a plunk. She didn’t turn to face me.
“I just . . . could you leave me alone?” I muttered. “Please.”
“No.”
I sat up and looked her square in the face. “Why not?”
Callie pursed her lips, her forehead crinkling as though she were working through a complicated problem. Then, hesitantly, she reached out with her tiny pinky finger and traced the outline of my lapis lazuli ring.
“The monster has a ring like this,” she said.
I jerked my hand away in horror. How could I have forgotten about our rings?
Callie cleared her throat. “Is the vampire, is he your . . . brother?”
My blood ran cold, and I jumped to my feet.
“No, Stefan! Stay.” Callie’s green eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “Please. Just stay. I know what you are, and I’m not afraid.”
I took a step back, my breath coming in rapid gasps. My mind spun, and I felt nauseated all over again. “How can you know what I am and not fear me?”
“You’re not a monster,” she said simply. She rose to her feet as well.
For a moment, we just stood there, not speaking, barely breathing. A duck cut an arc through the lake. A horse whinnied in the distance. And the scent of pine tickled my nose. I noticed then that Callie had removed all the vervain from her hair.
“How can you say that?” I asked. “I could kill you in an instant.”
“I know.” She looked into my eyes as if searching for something. My soul, perhaps. “So why haven’t you? Why don’t you now?”
“Because I like you,” I said, surprising myself with the words.
A whisper of a smile flitted across her lips. “I like you too.”
“Are you sure about that?” I took her wrists in mine and she pulled away a little. “Because when I touch you, I don’t know whether I want to kiss you or . . . or . . .”
“Kiss me,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t think about the alternative.”
“I can’t. If I do, it won’t stop there.”
Callie moved closer to me. “But you saved me. When your . . . brother lunge
d for me, you staked him. You staked your own brother. For me.”
“Just in the stomach, not the heart,” I pointed out.
“Still.” She placed her hand on my chest, right over where my heart used to be. I stiffened, trying not to inhale the scent of her.
Before I could react, she pulled a needle out of her pocket and punctured her index finger. I froze.
Blood.
Just one drop of it, like a single ruby, balanced there on the tip of her finger.
God, Callie’s blood. It smelled like cedarwood and the sweetest wine. My face began to sweat, and my breathing became heavy. My senses sharpened, and my fangs throbbed. Fear flashed in Callie’s eyes and radiated off her body.
And just like that, my fangs retracted. I fell backward, panting.
“See, you’re not a monster,” she said firmly. “Not like he is.”
The wind picked up, causing Callie’s hair to ripple out behind her like the waves in the lake. She shivered, and I stood up, pulling her close.
“Maybe,” I whispered into her ear, drinking in the heady scent of her, my mouth inches from her neck. I couldn’t bear to tell her about all the lives I’d taken, how Damon thought that I was the monster. “But he’s my brother. And it’s my fault he’s in there.”
“Do you want me to help you free him?” she said heavily, as if she’d known all along that our conversation would come to this.
“Yes,” I said simply.
Callie chewed on her lip as she played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it on her finger, over and over again.
“But you don’t have to.” I avoided her eyes, so I knew I wasn’t compelling her.
She stared at me carefully, as if my face were a cipher she could decode.
“In two days,” she said, “meet me at midnight. That’s when Damon will be moved to our attic.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes.”