‘Let’s go get a drink,’ I said, taking him by the elbow.
‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ he agreed, mock-seriously. He snapped his fingers, as if at a dog. ‘Hilda…?’
‘Leave her alone,’ I ordered.
Damon rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. A waiter will do just as well.’ But he allowed me to place an iron grip on his arm and guide him through the crowd, past the refreshment room, through a library and into a poorly lit study.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I demanded the moment we were alone.
‘Trying to enjoy myself,’ he said, throwing his hands up in feigned exasperation. He dropped his accent immediately. ‘Did you see the spread? The salmon’s from Scotland. And Adelina Patti is here, too – Father would have just died. Oh wait.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘He did die. You murdered him, in fact.’
‘Only after he tried to kill us,’ I pointed out, clenching my fists.
‘Correction: after he succeeded in shooting both of us. We’re dead, brother.’ Damon grinned at me.
He was circling me. Casually, as if he didn’t mean to, as if he was just walking around idly, making conversation while admiring the decor. It reminded me of how he’d paced the ring at the circus back in New Orleans, when Gallagher had forced him to fight the mountain lion. Damon picked up a small statuette and turned it over in his hands, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. I squared my shoulders, feeling the predator’s response as he challenged my personal space.
‘I’m asking you again, Damon: what are you doing here?’
‘Same thing as you, brother. Starting a new life, far from home, and war, and tragedy, and all of those other things immigrants like us are escaping. New York is where the action is. I figured if it’s good enough for my brother, it’s good enough for me, too.’
‘So you did follow me,’ I said. ‘How?’
‘You stink,’ he said. ‘Don’t act surprised! It’s not just you. Everyone stinks. We’re hunters, Stefan. About halfway up the coast, it wasn’t hard to figure out where you decided to go after New Orleans. I just made sure I got here first. There isn’t a train yet that can beat me on a horse. Well, several horses. A couple of them died of exhaustion. Like your poor, poor Mezzanotte.’
‘Why, Damon?’ I said, ignoring his casual cruelty. ‘Why follow me here?’
His eyes narrowed and a flash of rage shot through them, exploding from the hidden depths of his soul.
‘I told you I was going to torment you for the eternity you blessed me with, Stefan. Did you think I would break my promise so quickly?’
I was used to Damon’s fits of pique. His anger had always been like a summer storm, quick and violent, causing damage to anyone or anything nearby – and then it was over and he was buying a round at the tavern.
But this fury was new, and it was all because of me.
I averted my eyes so he couldn’t see the pain and guilt written there. ‘What do you want with Lydia? What does she have to do with anything?’
‘Ah, Lydia,’ he sighed, infusing his voice with pretend longing. ‘Charming, isn’t she? Definitely the best catch of the three sisters. Not that Margaret doesn’t have her own charms, of course, but she’s a bit sarcastic for my tastes, and, well, married.’ He shook his head. ‘But then there’s Bridget. Such a lively girl! Such verve!’
‘…anyone seen Stefan?’ As if on cue, we could both pick out her whining, childish soprano from four rooms away.
‘…and such an irritating voice,’ Damon finished, wincing. ‘First thing I would do, brother, is compel her to silence. You’d be doing the world a favour.’
I clenched my jaw. ‘You were obviously involved with the Sutherlands long before we crossed paths here.’
‘Oh was I?’ he asked. He put down the small statue he had been holding and turned it this way and that on the desk, as if deciding which way it looked best. ‘Poor girl was getting soaked – did she tell you the story? She loves it. For all of her pretending to be hard-nosed, she’s a weak-kneed romantic as bad as the rest of them. A sudden storm out of nowhere, a dry cab for Lydia…rich, rich Lydia…with a sheltered upbringing and open, welcoming family.’
‘Oh, you are a master of subtlety. Controlling men’s fates,’ I said, rolling my eyes at Damon’s preening.
‘I am a master. Who do you think left Bridget for you to find?’ he demanded. He stuck his face towards my own so that our noses almost touched. ‘Who do you think wounded her – just enough – for poor, old, predictable Stefan to find? Stefan, who’s sworn off drinking from humans, who I just knew would rescue the damsel in distress rather than finish her off.’
A cold chill crept up my spine.
‘And then of course I compelled the entire family to welcome you and take you in,’ he finished with a careless wave of his hand, as if it had been nothing.
A sense of resignation and understanding flooded my body. Of course he had compelled the family. The Sutherlands’ easy acceptance of me into their home had rankled me, and I should have realised earlier that something was hugely amiss. How did a man of Winfield’s stature let a stranger, a vagrant, into his home, and barely ask anything about his family or acquaintances? A man of his kind of wealth had to be careful about whom he allowed to get close. And Mrs Sutherland – she was such a cautious mother, yet she allowed me to escort her and her daughter on a walk in the park. Though this was hardly the time, I couldn’t help but wonder if her seeming affection for me had been true, or if it had all been due to Damon’s Power.
‘What do you want, Damon?’ I asked again. Here we were, back in the thick of it, but this time I understood just how dangerous my brother was and just how far he’d go to get revenge on me.
‘Nothing terrible, Stefan!’ he said, grinning and stepping back, throwing his hands in the air. ‘But think of it! Me with Lydia wrapped around my finger. You with the adoring Bridget…We’ll marry the sisters and, just as you always hoped, we’ll be brothers again for eternity – or at least as long as they live.’
‘I’m not marrying Bridget,’ I blurted out.
‘Yes, you are,’ he said.
‘No, I’m not,’ I repeated. ‘I’m leaving New York. Tonight.’
‘You are staying here and marrying Bridget,’ he said, coming to within an inch of my face, ‘or I will start to kill all the people in this place, one by one.’
He was deadly serious, all traces of cavalier, joking, devil-may-care Damon gone. The smouldering anger was back.
‘You can’t do that,’ I growled. ‘Even you aren’t strong enough to take down an entire ballroom.’
‘Oh really?’ He snapped his fingers over his shoulder. A maid appeared from the next room, as if waiting for his signal. She already had a kerchief tied around her neck from where he had fed on her previously. He gestured with his chin at the window, and she gamely went over and began to unbolt the latches.
‘I can compel Bridget and her entire stupid entourage in there to go jump off a balcony,’ Damon growled.
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said as calmly as I could. Only Lexi seemed able to control more than one person at once. And Damon wasn’t nearly as old as she.
‘Or I can stalk them one by one and rip their throats out,’ he offered instead. ‘It makes no difference to me.’
The maid stepped up onto the sill and began to climb onto the rail.
‘Bastard,’ I murmured, rushing over to grab the poor girl before she killed herself. ‘Get out of here,’ I growled at her, unsure if I was compelling her or not. Suddenly she looked confused and scared, the spell broken. She bolted out of the room, sniffling.