The Vampire Diaries: Stefan’s Diaries #3: The Craving

by L. J. Smith

  A maître d’ came up, and after one look at Lexi, ushered us over to the most extravagant booth. It had velvet and cloth-of-gold pillows with far too many tassels to be perfectly comfortable. The strains of a piano filtered from the next room over, and I understood why she’d chosen this bar—Lexi always asked Hugo, a member of her vampire family in New Orleans, to play piano for her.

  “Married?” she said as soon as we were settled in and she had ordered us something.

  The image of the Sutherlands’ bloody bodies scorched my vision for a moment.

  “How did you know where we were, really?” I asked, changing the subject. News didn’t travel that fast unless it was about the war. It still should have taken her at least a week to get from Louisiana to New York, whether by train or vampiric speed.

  “I set one of my friends after Damon. I worried about you,” she admitted, a sheepish look on her face. “I know you can take care of yourself, but Damon is dangerous, Stefan, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  The waiter came over with our drinks. As promised, the bottle was encased in a block of bluish ice with flowers and herbs pressed inside, as fresh as the day they were frozen. I couldn’t help touching a fingertip to a blossom that was near the surface, and feeling the ridge of rime that separated it from my skin. A human’s heat would have melted the ice. A vampire’s flesh was colder, kept in a similar state of perpetual frozen perfection.

  The waiter poured us each a shot in goblets carved from solid green malachite.

  I put my hand over hers. “Thank you, Lexi. For everything you’ve done. I can never repay you.”

  “No, you can’t,” she said cheerfully. “But you can start by telling me everything. As I said before: married?”

  So I told her about my discovery of Bridget and being inducted into the Sutherland household, and Damon’s insane plans. She giggled and gasped at every detail. I guess from an outsider’s perspective, particularly a much older vampire, Damon’s machinations might seem mild in comparison.

  “Oh, oh my God,” she said, unable to stop laughing. “A double wedding? You and Damon together? And no one ate the flower girl?” She waved the waiter over for another bottle of vodka. “Oh, how I wish I was there. Stefan! I didn’t even get you anything. . . .”

  I smiled, wishing I could just sit there and continue to watch her laugh. But I had to finish the tale.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t Damon?” she asked quietly, when I told her of the Sutherlands’ murders.

  “There are a lot of things I can’t predict about him,” I admitted. “I had no idea he would actually follow me to the ends of the earth just to make my life miserable—even after he murdered Callie. But I’m positive he had nothing to do with the slaying—he was just as surprised as I was. And he has not been one to hide his evil acts. Besides, Margaret even believed him and apparently she has a sixth sense about these things,” I said.

  “New York City isn’t exactly the ends of the earth,” she said, but this time there was no humor in her voice. “But it’s an odd coincidence that some other monster would set his sights on the very same family that you did.”

  “It wasn’t a coincidence at all.”

  Lexi’s face went ashen as I recounted what the lawyer had said. A look I had never seen before on her crossed her pretty face—dread.

  “Describe him to me,” she ordered.

  “He was huge. Blond hair, blue eyes. He seemed older than time,” I said, struggling to express the ancient menace I felt. “Evil. Just pure darkness radiating out of him.”

  “Did he . . . did he have an accent?” she asked hesitantly, as if she already knew the answer.

  “Yes. I thought it was just part of whatever he was. But it could have been Polish or Russian. He said something about someone named Klaus?”

  Lexi thumped the underside of the table with her fist and looked away.

  “Who was it, Lexi?” I demanded. I needed to know. If he was going to be my executioner, if he was the one who had murdered the Sutherlands, at the very least I would get to know who my enemy was.

  “He mentioned Klaus?” she asked, speaking more into her glass than to me. “Everyone knows about him. He was one of the first vampires.”

  A hush seemed to descend over the restaurant, and the gas lamps flickered. I clutched my glass of vodka.

  “He is directly descended from Hell. Any piece of good, any sense of morality, anything at all that keeps you and me—and even Damon—from becoming a completely twisted, raving monster of pure evil—none of that is in him. There is nothing human about him. He has minions, other old ones who do his bidding. No one’s ever seen Klaus—or at least lived to tell about it!”

  I digested this horrifying information, wrapping my hands around my glass. “This . . . thing said we took Katherine.”

  Lexi paled. “If she was important to Klaus and he believes that you and your brother are responsible for what happened to her, you’re in serious trouble.”

  “He mentioned a curse. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  Lexi drummed her fingers against the table, her brow furrowing. “Curse? Many vampires consider being confined to wander at night a curse, but I don’t know what Katherine had to do with that.”

  “Do you think he . . . did he turn her into a vampire?” I asked.

  “That’s irrelevant,” Lexi said. “It’s doesn’t matter how or why he cares about her—just that he does. You have your own fate to worry about.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated. Once again Katherine had found a way to insert herself into my life and create havoc. While I felt guilty about what had happened to Katherine, I still blamed her for destroying my family, for turning my life into the mess it was now.

  Katherine had been nothing but selfish. She’d toyed with me and Damon, when Damon fell in love with her and I . . . well, was falling in lust with her, not once did she think about the possible dangers for us. That we would die, that our brotherhood would be severed irreparably, that her sire might eventually catch up to her, hell-bent on revenge.

  “I have to get rid of him,” I said.

  Lexi shook her head. “You’re not ‘getting rid’ of anything that old and powerful, my young stripling. You’re just a babe—and on top of that, your diet of rodents and birds hasn’t exactly strengthened you. You and your brother working together couldn’t defeat him. I couldn’t take him on.”

  “Well, what do I do?” I demanded, my voice taking on a hard, determined edge. I had just been letting everything that had come along in my life control me—Damon and his stupid plans, getting married. . . . It was time I acted.

  Lexi rubbed her temples. “The best you can hope for right now is to figure out what his plans are—and then avoid them. You will need to live long enough to figure out a way to vanquish this old one, before he has a chance to tell Klaus where you are.”

  I nodded, thinking. “We need to go back to the mansion.”

  Lexi opened her mouth, but I put up my hand. “I know—but maybe he left something behind.”

  Lexi squared her jaw. “I’ll go with you. My senses are more finely tuned than yours.”

  “You don’t need finely tuned senses to catch the scent of Hell,” I told her, “but I appreciate the help.”

  Chapter 23

  We hailed a carriage heading uptown—Lexi told me I needed to save my strength for whatever came next—and got out without bothering to pay. This was what life was like for one such as Lexi, powerful and simple in her wants and desires. She didn’t need any intricate, crazy plans for amassing wealth. She could compel anyone to do anything she asked, and life was incredibly easy.

  It was tempting, especially the aspect that was nonviolent. No one was hurt in any of her activities, except financially.

  Lexi must have read my thoughts because she grinned at me and waggled her eyebrows. “You should stick with me, my friend. Life like this can be sweet, not a curse,” she offered.

  I
shook my head, smiling. “Thanks, but as you keep saying, I have my own path.”

  By the time we made it to the Sutherland mansion, its windows were dark and already draped in festoons of black crepe. In the strange half-light of the early hour, dew sparkled eerily off the matte cloth. The house was cordoned off.

  I gently forced the lock. Neither Lexi nor I made any noise until we came into the living room, when she gave a gasp.

  The coroners had removed the bodies but not done any cleanup work. The vast amounts of blood from their ripped-up bodies had seeped into the carpet and stained the marble floors beneath. Dark black splatters of dried blood covered the walls, matching the crepe outside.

  “My god,” Lexi whispered. “He massacred them.”

  I fell back into a chair, overwhelmed with guilt. It hadn’t been long since I had discovered the poor family here, their bodies still warm with rapidly fleeting life. Backward and backward my thoughts ran, remembering the things I had done wrong, all of which had led up to this sad climax.

  If I hadn’t run away from the reception . . .

  If hadn’t gone along with my brother’s plans to begin with . . .

  If I hadn’t saved Bridget . . .

  If I hadn’t fled to New York . . .

  If I hadn’t made Damon drink blood to complete his transformation . . .

  “This is my fault,” I moaned.

  I put my head in my hands. The trail of blood and death that wasn’t even of my own devising followed me like a curse.

  “No, it’s Damon’s,” Lexi corrected promptly. “And Klaus’s.”

  “I should never have come here. . . . I should have stayed as far away from humans as possible.”

  “Hey.” Lexi walked over to me, kneeling down and looking up into my face. She put a hand on my chin, forcing me to look back at her. “You didn’t do this. Klaus did—he ordered this. And you had no intention of marrying into this family. That was Damon’s idea. You told me yourself—he threatened to kill that roomful of people if you didn’t go along. I would have killed him at that point, but he’s not my brother.”

  I gazed into her dark eyes. “I’ve done so much wrong.”

  She bit her lower lip. “You made mistakes in the past. Bad ones. But you know that, and were doing your best to correct them, or at least avoid them in the future. That’s why I am here, Stefan. You’re worth saving.”

  A pain that had nothing to do with thirst made my throat ache. “Lexi, please . . .”

  “I can see into your heart, Stefan,” she said softly. “I don’t just appear out of the blue to save any vampire. You’re different. And someday, maybe, you’ll know that. And part of your curse will be over.”

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips against my cheek. I could feel the soft flutter of her eyelashes as she closed her eyes against my face.

  “Come on,” she said, backing up and chucking me under the chin. “We have work to do. I’ll look around down here. You go get whatever things of yours the police haven’t confiscated. I think you’re moving out of this town for a while.”

  Between one breath and the next, between a trick of the light and the deepest shadow, she had changed. Sunny, friendly Lexi now had bloodred eyes and black veins around her face. Fangs glistened in what little light there was. She was in full predator mode, hunting for the slightest sign of the vampire. Even though she was just an older version of what I was, seeing her that way still sent a chill down my body. Lurking just beneath our skin, the monster was always ready to come out.

  With a heavy heart I plodded up the grand, dark wood staircase. There was no need to be completely silent; the few servants who remained were in their quarters in a distant wing, far away from the death and mess. I could hear their overloud voices, their discussions of prospects and other households—all desperate attempts to fend off the darkness that their employers had slipped into so suddenly.

  I wondered what Margaret was doing, vowing to get word to her about Klaus and his vendetta. She was probably in her own home with her husband, mourning her sisters and parents. Which was harder? To be dead, or to live with the memory of the dead? As a vampire, I would never know the former, but always experience the latter.

  I soon reached my room, where a night ago Bridget had thrown herself at me. I smelled traces of the violet perfume she had doused herself with. It had infiltrated my pillow and sheets. So much more childish than Katherine’s scent, the subtle, alluring, complicated mix of citrus and spice. . . .

  I took a valise—another gift from Winfield, planning for our honeymoon, I suppose—and threw the few things I considered mine into it. My old clothes, some spare change, my journal. I flipped to an old page where I’d written about Katherine.

  September 8, 1864

  She is not who she seems. Should I be surprised? Terrified? Hurt?

  It’s as if everything I know, everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve believed in my past seventeen years is wrong.

  I can still feel where she kissed me, where her fingers grasped my hands. I still yearn for her, and yet the voice of reason is screaming in my ears: you cannot love a vampire!

  If I had one of her daisies, I could pluck the leaves and let the flower choose for me. I love her . . . I love her not . . . I . . .

  I love her.

  I do. No matter the consequences.

  Is this what following your heart is? I wish there was a map or a compass to help me find my way. But she has my heart and that above all else is my North Star . . . and that will have to be enough.

  I snapped the book shut, curling my lip at my foolishness. Downstairs was the present reality and thinking about the past did no good. I threw the book into the valise and went downstairs.

  But instead of finding Lexi there to greet me, there was emptiness and a horrible, familiar scent.

  Death and decay.

  A faint breeze whistled through broken wood; the back door was left wide open. I shivered despite myself. The silence, Lexi’s absence, howled like a banshee.

  A single piece of paper, the size of a ticket, fluttered on the floor. I picked it up, feeling dread prickle my skin.

  All it said was: PAYMENT NUMBER TWO —LUCIUS.

  Chapter 24

  November 13, 1864

  I am cursed. It is obvious now. Maybe that’s what being a vampire means. Maybe tragedy and evil come with the hunger and the fangs; it isn’t just having to live off human blood. It is the unending aloneness, being cut off from real life and from real relationships. Death will always be there to separate me from those I loved.

  There is a scroll of names in my head, and the list kept getting longer every day. Rosalyn was the first to die because of me. Katherine couldn’t stand that I was engaged, so she killed the girl. Even Katherine’s blood was on my hands. Though she came into my and my brother’s lives and turned them upside down. She died as a result of my actions. I should never have tried to reason with my father, never tried to convince him of a different viewpoint. As soon as he confided in me about the vampire hunt, I should have done everything I could to get Katherine out of town.

  Pearl. She, too, could have escaped. I don’t know exactly what her story was, but she seemed far more peaceable than Katherine.

  Alice the barmaid.

  All the humans I fed on in New Orleans. Too many to name, even if I had bothered learning their names. They were just unlucky folk who accidentally crossed my path when I was hungry or needed something.

  Callie. She died because I was stupid enough to think that she would be rewarded for helping out two vampires.

  The Sutherlands.

  Bridget, Lydia, Mrs. Sutherland, and Winfield. A normal family who just happened to catch the attention of one insane, vengeful vampire.

  And now Lexi. Lexi should have stayed in New Orleans in her hostel for the undead, safe in her own world where she could continue her own version of doing good.

  She will be the next to die unless I figure out how to save her.
<
br />   I have spent too much time in New York bemoaning my fate, moping, feeling cursed. By standing idly by, by complaining, I am letting evil occur all around me. Now is the time for action, for justice. I must channel my loneliness and despair into rage. I must stop being a coward, as I’ve always been, in both life, when I let my father bully me into a marriage I didn’t want, and in death, when I’ve allowed Damon to torture me and kill the people I love.

  Never again will I let others bend me to their will. From now on I will fight.

  And I will free Lexi, if it is the last thing I do.

  I crumpled the piece of paper in my fist, growling with anger. How had he taken her? I hadn’t heard a thing, even with my vampire senses. The servants, a couple of mice and rats in the walls, but nothing else. The vampire Lucius had come in complete silence and managed to seize—or disable—Lexi before she was able to cry out. What speed, what Power this beast must have!

  But for all of the vampire’s ancientness, for all that he was a “direct descendant from Hell,” for all of the monster he was, he had, with that single piece of paper, revealed one very human weakness about himself. He had a very petty need to gloat. If Damon were in his place, I would have come downstairs and seen Lexi dead on the floor. But the beast wanted me to know that everyone around me was in danger, to scare me before he killed me.