The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #2: Bloodlust by L. J. Smith; Kevin Williamson; Julie Plec

Author:L. J. Smith; Kevin Williamson; Julie Plec
Format: mobi
Tags: Young Adult Fiction, Vampires, Science Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, New Orleans (La.), Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Horror & Ghost Stories, Love & Romance, Supernatural, Young Adult, General, Horror, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9780062003942
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2007-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I ran past the shanties set up around the circus through the deep woods, following the tracks of the wagon until I lost the vehicle’s scent completely at the outskirts of the city proper. A drunk was leaning against a brick building, whistling tunelessly.

In a blind rage, I roughly fell to my knees and grabbed him, biting into his neck and sucking his blood before he even had time to gasp. It tasted bitter, but I kept drinking, gulping it in until I could stand no more.

Sitting back on my heels, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked around. Confusion and hatred coursed through my veins. Why couldn’t I save Damon? Why had I just watched as Gallagher goaded the audience into placing even more bets, as the mountain lion pounced onto my brother? And why had Damon allowed himself to be captured and put me in this impossible position?

I wished I’d never insisted on turning him into a vampire in the first place. If he weren’t here and I were alone in the city, everything would be so much easier. Now I was trying to be a good brother, and a good vampire, and yet was failing at everything.

I walked home, clomping up the steps to the house. I slammed the door, causing the hinges to rattle and one of the paintings in the parlor to fall on the floor with a clatter.

Instantly, I saw Buxton glaring at me from the opposite side of the room, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Is there some sort of problem you’re having with the door?” he asked through clenched teeth.

I tried to brush past him, but he blocked my path.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, pushing him.

“Excuse you,” Buxton said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Coming in as if you own the place. Stinking like humans. While I’m not one to question Miss Lexi, I do think it’s time you show a little respect for her home, brother.”

The word brother awakened something within me. “Watch what you say,” I hissed, baring my teeth.

But Buxton just chuckled. “I’ll watch what I say when you watch how you act.”

“Boys?” Lexi called from upstairs, her lilting voice a contrast to the tense scene. She glided down the stairs, her eyes softening with concern when they rested on me. “Is Damon . . . ?”

“He’s alive,” I muttered. “But I couldn’t get to him.”

Lexi perched on the edge of a rickety rocking chair, her eyes large and sympathetic. “Buxton, can you please get us some goat’s blood?”

Buxton’s eyes narrowed, but he shuffled out of the parlor and into the kitchen. In the living room, I could hear Hugo playing a lively French march on the piano.

“Thanks,” I said, sinking into an overstuffed love seat. I didn’t want goat’s blood. I wanted to gorge myself on gallons and gallons of human blood, drinking until I got sick and passed out in total oblivion.

“Remember, he’s strong,” Lexi said.

“I’m not worried about Buxton,” I said.

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