It was, after all, the natural order of things. Animals killed weaker animals. Humans killed animals. I killed humans. Every species had their foe. I shuddered to think what monster was powerful enough to hunt me.
The salty breeze wafting from the water was laced with the odor of unwashed bodies and rotting food--a far cry from the aroma across town, where scents of floral perfume and talcum powder hung heavy in the air of the wide streets. Here shadows hugged every corner, whispers rose and fell with the flowing of the river, and drunken hiccups pierced the air. It was dark, here. Dangerous.
I quite liked it.
I turned a corner, following my nose like a bloodhound on the trail of a doe. I flexed my arms, ready for a hunt--a gin-soaked drunk, a soldier, a lady out after dark. The victim didnt matter.
I turned again, and the iron-scent of blood came closer. The smell was sweet and smoky. I focused on it, on the anticipation of sinking my fangs into a neck, of wondering whose blood Id be drinking, whose life Id be stealing. I continued to walk, picking up my pace as I traced the scent to an anonymous back street lined with an apothecary, a general store, and a tailor. The street was a replica of our own Main Street back in Mystic Falls. But while wed only had one, New Orleans must have had dozens, if not hundreds, of these corridors of commerce.
The rusty smell of iron was stronger now. I followed twists and turns, my hunger building, burning, searing my very skin until finally, finally I came to a squat, peach-colored building. But when I saw the painted sign above the door, I stopped short. Sausages in their casings hung in the buildings grimy window; slabs of cured meat dangled from the ceiling like a grotesque childs mobile; carved ribs were nestled in ice beneath a counter, and in the far back, whole carcasses were strung up, draining blood into large vats.
This was a butcher shop?
I sighed in frustration but my hunger forced me to push the door open anyway. The iron chain snapped easily, as if it were no sturdier than thread. Once inside, I gazed at the bloodied carcasses, momentarily mesmerized by the blood falling into the vats, one drip at a time.
Over the sound of the raining blood, I heard the slightestping, no louder than the twitch of a mouses whiskers. Then came the light shuffle of toes passing over concrete.
I reared back, my eyes darting from corner to corner. Mice scuttled beneath the floorboards, and someones watch ticked in the building next door. All else was quiet. But the air around me suddenly felt thicker, and the ceiling lower somehow, and I became acutely aware that there was no back exit in this room of death.
"Who goes there?" I called into the darkness, whirling around, my fangs bared. And then came movement. Fangs, eyes, the thud of footsteps closed in around me from all corners.
A low, guttural growl echoed off the bloodstained walls of the shop, and I realized with a sickening jolt that I was surrounded by vampires who looked all too ready to pounce.
Chapter 9
I crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first.
The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves.
"What do you think youre doing?" one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip.
"Im one of you," I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display.
"Oh, hes one of us!" an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my fathers. I kept my face impassive. "I have no ill business with you, brothers."
"We are not your brothers," said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard.
The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. "So, brother, nice evening to dine or die. What do you think?"
The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. "Looks like hell do both tonight. Lucky boy," he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air.
"No, no, no." While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. "Dont be disrespectful. Were your elders. And youve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Mollys house is any indication." He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasnt anything of the sort.
"I didnt do anything," I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then Id die in a fight.
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldnt budge.
The elder vampire chuckled. "Cant control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Lets give him a taste of his own medicine." With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength Id never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards.
I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. "I didnt mean to do anything. Im sorry," I said, my voice breaking on the word.
"Do you mean it?" the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way.