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

by L. J. Smith

  Now there was only one thing on my mind. If Lexi was still alive, it was my duty to go after her and save her. And if she wasn’t alive . . . it was my right and pleasure to kill Klaus’s foot soldier. This I swore.

  What was it he had said in the prison? An eye for an eye. He took something valuable from me and Damon, our wives and their family, because we had taken Katherine from him. But the Sutherlands were human, of no importance and very easily disposed of. His beloved Katherine died in a church fire.

  What if . . .

  The words struggled to the surface of my brain.

  What if he planned on killing Lexi the same way?

  Suddenly I felt like I had a chance again. But which church? There had to be hundreds in the city.

  I ran outside. The smell of decay hung heavy in the air, as though Lucius had unwittingly laid a path for me. I followed it south, feeling as though I were gaining strength with each step that brought me closer to where Lexi might be—and who I should be. I had tried to stay away from humans, and that hadn’t worked. I had tried living with them, with disastrous results. But I had never tried a more moderate path. I would never be human, but I could help them, as I’d helped Bridget that night in the park. I could never live among humans, but I could find companionship among humans like Mrs. Sutherland and vampires like Lexi. Those ties would tether me to this world and keep me honest.

  I ran past a brick town house and grabbed a pigeon in midflight from the air, tearing into its neck for extra fuel. The stench was stronger now, and I saw an Irish Catholic church just two streets away. I knew people had actually been worried about this particular structure being torched, as had been done to others during the religious riots in Pennsylvania. But the place was quiet, with several old women sitting in the front pews, and oddly, the scent of decay that had permeated the air outside so strongly had evaporated. There was no odor of anything besides candles and incense burning at the altar.

  I slunk into a back pew and regarded the rose oculus window. The scene depicted a grieving Mother Mary in lapis lazuli blue as the sun, a bloody garnet, rose behind her. I closed my eyes and thought, hard. Why had Lucius thrown me off his scent? Was I wrong to assume that he wanted to bait me, so I could arrive at the correct church just as he put the match to the powder keg? What church would he choose—and why?

  Then it hit me: I was being stupid. The vampire had done due diligence and found out exactly where my bride’s family lived; he wouldn’t have just chosen a random church to burn down. He would have picked the chapel in which I was married.

  I knew the truth of this deep in my bones. But just as surely I knew that I couldn’t go after him by myself. And there was only one person who was capable of helping me.

  Damon.

  Damon, who had trapped me into the stupid marriage that got the Sutherlands all killed. Damon, who had killed Callie. Damon, who swore to make my life a living hell for all eternity. But in the end I needed him. I had seen him control his powers in ways I could not. And I would need all the Power I could get on my side if I was to find a way to defeat an old one. Lexi had rescued us from prison, and surely even someone as debased and fallen as Damon would recognize that we owed her.

  The only problem was finding him.

  And now, I think I’m ready for a drink was what he had said. For most vampires that only meant one thing. For my brother, well, he could easily have meant hitting the bottle as well as draining a person or two. But where?

  In the weeks between following me to New York and “finding” me at the Chesters’ ball, he had, as Lexi said, been sweeping the New York society scene as an Italian count. He had probably talked—or compelled—his way into any number of private clubs or restaurants. I wracked my brains, trying to remember the prattle Bridget had bored me with, about who was seen where with whom, and where was the latest place to go, and how there was an oyster bar serving genuine Pimm’s Cup, just like in England. For lack of any better idea, I went there first.

  It was a lovely place in an otherwise unwholesome area at the southern seaport. Uncertain-looking sailors wandered from pool of streetlight to pool of streetlight, gathering in twos and threes to quietly discuss the seedier side of import and export, laugh loudly, and sing old drinking songs. Among all of this rotting seaweed, though, fancy livery and decorated carriages were parked: society men lured by the oysters, Pimm’s Cups, and the dangerous aspect of the place.

  Inside there were quite a few of the young men I had seen at the Chesters’ ball, as well as at my own wedding. Even Bram was there, but he was keeping to himself and looked ill. His face was ashen and his eyes sunken, and he wore black ribbons around his sleeves for mourning. His drink was untouched and he just stared sadly out the windows at the river.

  I turned my back to him, not wanting him to call out that a murderer—as he no doubt thought I was—was in 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 favorite place and me being his favorite 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 just 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 checks. As soon as things quiet down a bit I, and they, are out of this town.”

  “Doubtful any bank would cash a check 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 repeated. 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 back 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,” Damon 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.”

  Damon’s 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 some 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 upon 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 upon 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 bloodred puddle from an east-facing stained glass window. As the light slowly moved toward 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.

  “Lexi!” I yelled.

  “Stefan!” she sobbed in pain and relief.

  I thought fast. It would take me far too long to figure out how to remove the vervain-soaked ropes, and there was nothing I could cover the windows with, no tapestries or easily pulled-up rugs or runners. Without thinking of my own safety, I ran over and grabbed her small white hand, slipping my ring over her finger.

  “But, Stefan,” Lexi protested.

  “You need it if you’re going to keep chasing after and saving me,” I said, pulling all her ropes off. The vervain burned my fingers raw, but preserved her until she was free. Despite the pain in my fingers, I felt light and hopeful. I had done it. I’d saved Lexi. “Now let’s get you—”

  But at that moment, a vervain-soaked net fell on us both, searing every inch of my body.

  “Run!” I shouted, pushing Lexi out of the way.

  She rolled to the floor, then reached for the edge of a pew to help right herself. As she extended her arm, though, it passed through a shaft of sunlight. Her eyes widened in wonder, clearly shocked that no smoke appeared and her skin didn’t burn. And then she disappeared, blurring with vampire speed away from the scene.

  I put up my hands, trying to keep the netting off my face, but I twisted and cried out wherever the poisoned rope touched me.

  The ancient vampire appeared, giant leather gloves on his hands and a big grin on his pale face.

  “Hello.” The corners of his mouth pulled back too far, revealing a set of strong white teeth wedged in decaying gums. “So predictable, coming to rescue a damsel in distress.”

  That foul odor of a slaughterhouse enveloped me like a hot wind in August: inescapable, absolute, and horrible. Despite the burning nets, I tried to turn away from it.

  That only made him chuckle.

  “Where is the one who is always near you and just out of your grasp, like a shadow? Where is your brother?”

  I clenched my jaw. Knowing Damon, he was swilling his third whiskey, preparing to feast on a saloon girl or two.

  Lucius studied my silent face, seeming to mistake it for bravado. “Well, it is no matter. I will get him eventually. Your brother is more like a real vampyr than you, no interest in anything outside his little world, no desire to do good. He may survive for a trifle longer.”

  “What do you plan to do with me?” I demanded. Though in truth, now that Lexi was safe, I didn’t fear for my own safety. I wished only to have the chance to kill the monster, to stop him from exacting further revenge and preying on more humans.

  But the vervain was drawing out my Power like a siphon, and I knew even scratching the old one would be a small victory.

  The beast grabbed the net and threw me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a bag of mice or feathers.

  “My plans are not particularly spectacular,” he said as he lumbered down the church’s aisle. There were still rose petals on the floor, I noted, drying away into thin scraps of nothing. The flowers in vases were wilted, everything left to wither after the murder of the brides.

  “But they will be enduring. Vampires can survive a very, very long time. Without food. Slowly starving over the centuries and still not dying.” The net shifted as he shrugged. “Well, eventually, perhaps. I’ve never seen it happen, but I suppose we’ll find out.”

  He took a sudden left into the private chapel, stopping in front of a set of double doors—the crypt, I suddenly realized with mounting dread. Although the doors were solid, ca
rved marble, Lucius had no problem throwing them open, dumping me out of the net, and tossing me into a tiny stone room, barely larger than the dozen coffins interred there.

  For one brief moment, I relished the feel of the cool air rushing over my burned skin.

  But then he let out a low growl. “When your hunger for blood eats you from the inside and makes you go mad, do not worry—I will be there, listening. Watching. And laughing.”

  My last sight was of the ancient standing, outlined in a bright halo of the living world, waving. Then he threw the doors closed with a slam that echoed to the very heavens, and I was in utter darkness.

  I raced to the doors and threw my weight against them. They didn’t even rattle. Trying to quell my rising hysteria, I took in the dank, musty room, searching for an opening, a secret exit, an out, even though a voice at the back of my mind screamed, “It’s a crypt, Stefan! Death is the only way out!”

  I wove through the maze of coffins and sarcophagi. Even in my panic I noticed the ornate carvings and brass hinges. One of the marble tombs had the portrait of a young girl engraved in high relief. She had wide eyes and bow-shaped lips. I slumped over the carving, as though I could hug the girl resting beneath it.

  At least Lexi was safe, I told myself. If nothing else, at least I could spend the centuries knowing that she was out there somewhere, living her life—protected by my ring. And maybe, just maybe, trying to find me.

  “So long,” I whispered to Lexi in the silence of the tomb.

  As if on cue, the doors to the crypt opened one last time, and a petite blonde came hurtling through, landing with a thud at my feet.

  “Lexi!” I cried as the doors slammed shut behind her, plunging us into darkness again.

  “Hey there,” she said weakly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Chapter 26

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.