Stefan’s Diaries: The Craving Chapter 4

November 5, 1864It feels like so long ago, but in reality olive-sized time has passed since my trans carcassation, since my draw killed me. It was barely a month past that Damon and I tried to save Katherines life, and her blood saved ours. Barely a month since I was a living, warm-blooded human, who sustained himself on meals of meat and vegetables, cheese and wine and who slept in a feather bed, with clean linen sheets.Yet it feels like a lifetime, and by some definitions, I suppose it is.But barely as quickly as my fortunes turned subsequently New Orleans, leaving me to live as a vagrant in a rocky hollow in the park, here I am at a proper desk under a leaded window, a thick rug at my feet. How quickly I am slipping sticker into human waysThe Sutherlands seem like a kind family. I picture tempestuous Bridget and her long-suffering older sister as mirror versions of Damon and myself. I n ever appreciated how harmless Damons and my fathers fights were brook when they were ju st about horses and girls. I was always terrified champion of them would say or do something that would end forever what semblance of a family we had left field.Now that my father is jobless and my brother and I are . . . what we are, I realize how much more than serious things can get, and how simple and easy life was earlier.I shouldnt even deposit here, even to iniquity. I should sneak out the window and flee to my place of exile. Being enfolded in the warm, living embrace of the Sutherland family for any amount of time, no effect how short, is dangerous and deceptive. It makes me feel like I could almost belong to the world of humans again. They dont realize they exact wel condescendd a predator into their midst. All that would motif to expire is for me to lose control one time, to slip from my live right nowadays and take my fill of i of them, and their lives would be filled with tragedy just as tap became when Katherine arrived on our doorstep.Family has always been the most important thing to me, and I would be lying if I didnt admit how comforting it is to be among people who honey one another, if only for one borrowed night. . . .For the first time since Id left New Orleans, I rose with the sun, intent to slip out of the mansion and disappear into the morning mists before anyone came to wake me. But it was hard to resist the pull of crisp linen sheets, the soft mattress, the shelves of books, and the painted ceiling of my room.After admiring the fresco of winged cherubs above me, I pushed off the soft covers and forced myself out of bed. Every muscle in my body rippled under my pale skin, full of strength and Power, but all(prenominal) bone in my rib cage showed. The Sutherlands had taken my clothes to be washed but hadnt given me a nightshirt. I enjoyed the feeling of morning cheerfulness on my flesh, the glowing warmth fighting with the chill in the room. Though Id never forgive Katherine for turning me into a monster, I was gratef ul at least(prenominal) for her lapis lazuli ring that protected me from the suns otherwise fatal rays.The window was open the slightest bit, ushering a cool breeze into the room and setting the diaphanous curtains aflutter. Though temperature no longer affected me, I closed the window, locking the latch with some puzzlement. I could have sworn all the windows had been shut tight last night. out front I had time to further consider the issuance, the tell-tale thump of a heartbeat sounded close by, and after a light knock, the door cracked open. Lydia stuck her head in, indeed immediately blushed and looked away from my tight naked form.Father was panic-struck you might try to leave without saying good-bye. I was sent to make sure you didnt see a maid into helping you.Im hardly in a state to sneak away, I said, covering my chest with my arms. I will need my puff to do that.Henry will be up shortly with your trousers, freshly pressed, she said, keeping her eyes on the ground. In the meantime, thither is a bathing room just down the hall to the right. Please feel free to refresh yourself, and then come down to breakfast.I nodded, feeling trapped.And, Stefan. Lydia looked up briefly and met my eye. I do hope youll be able to locate a shirt as well. thus she smiled and slipped away.When I finally came downstairs for breakfast, the entire Sutherland clan was hold for me even Bridget, who was alive and stuffing toast into her salute like she hadnt eaten in a fortnight. Except for a slight paleness to her complexion, it was impossible to tell that shed nearly died the night before.Everyone turned and gasped as I approached. Apparently, I cut a different figure from the hero in shirtsleeves the night before. With freshly polished bonny Italian shoes, neat pants, a new clean shirt, and a borrowed jacket Winfield had sent up for me, I was every inch the gentleman. Id even washed my face and combed my hair back.Cook made you some grits, if you like, Mrs. Suth erland said, indicating a bowl of gloppy white stuff. We dont usually indulge, but thought our Southern guest might.Thank you, maam, I said, taking the empty seat next to Bridget and eyeing the spread on the large wooden table. After my mother passed away, Damon, my father, and I made it a habit to eat casually with the men who we employed on the plantation. Breakfast was often the simple stuff of workers, hominy and biscuits, bread and syrup, rashers of bacon. What was laid out at the Winfield residence put to dishonour the finest restaurants in Virginia. English-style toast in delicate wire holders, five different types of jam, two kinds of bacon, johnnycakes, syrup, even freshly squeezed orange juice. The delicate plates had blue Dutch patterns, and there was more silverware than I was accustomed to seeing at a formal dinner.Wishing I lock had a human appetite and ignoring the fire in my veins that thirsted for blood I pretended to dig in.Much obliged, I said.So this is my l ittle sisters savior, said the one woman in the room I didnt know. conquer me to introduce the eldest of my daughters, Winfield said. This is Margaret. First married. And first with grandchildren, were hoping.Papa, Margaret admonished, before turning her attention back to me. Pleased to meet you. Where Bridget was full of life and the plumpness of youth and Lydia was the elegant, gracious one, Margaret had something of a practical and inquisitive good sense, an earthiness that showed in questioning blue eyes. Her hair was black and inclined to straightness.We were just discussing what prompted my childs rash actions, Winfield said, bringing the conversation back to the previous night.I dont know wherefore I ran off, Bridget pouted, drawing deeply from a cup of orange juice. The older sisters gave each other looks, but their father leaned closer, worry lines marring his forehead. I just felt that I absolutely had to leave. So I did.It was foolish and dangerous, her mother reprimand ed, shaking her napkin. You could have diedI am sunny to see you are doing so well today, I said politely. Bridget grinned, displaying teeth that had little bits of orange pulp stuck in them.Yes. About that. Margaret spoke up, tapping her egg spoonful on the side of her plate. You say you found her covered in blood in the park?Yes, maam, I answered warily, taking the smallest subdivision of bacon on my plate. This sister sounded more astute than the others and wasnt afraid to ask uncomfortable questions.There was a lot of blood, and Bridgets dress was torn. Margaret pressed, Did you find it odd that there was no actual wound?Uh, I stammered. My mind raced. What could I say? The blood was someone elses?I thought there was a knife wound last night, Mrs. Sutherland said, pursing her lips and thinking. But it was just clogged blood, and wiping it down absolved it away.Margaret pierced me with her eyes.Maybe she was afflicted with a nosebleed . . . ? I mumbled lamely.So youre saying that you didnt see any attacker when you came upon my sister? Margaret asked.Oh, Meggie, you and your interrogations, Winfield said. Its a miracle that Bridge is all right. Thank goodness Stefan here found her when he did.Yes. Of course. Thank goodness, Margaret said. And what were you doing in the park last night by yourself? she continued smoothly.Walking, I said, same as I had answered her father the night before.In the bright light of morning, it struck me as odd that Winfield had asked me nothing more than my name and why Id been in the park. In times like these, and after his daughter had just suffered a great blow, it was hardly standard to accept a stranger into ones home. Then again, my father had offered refuge to Katherine when shed arrived in Mystic Falls, playing the part of an orphan.A nagging piece of me wondered if our story could have ended differently, if the entire Salvatore brood would still be alive, if only wed pressed Katherine for answers about her past, rath er than tiptoeing around the tragedy shed cl assumeed had taken her parents lives. Of course, Katherine had Damon and me so deeply in her thrall, perhaps it would have made no difference.Margaret leaned forward, not politely giving up the way Winfield had the night before. Youre not from around here, I take it? Im from Virginia, I answered as she opened her mouth to form the next, obvious question. In a strange way, it made me feel better to offer this family something real. Besides, soon enough I would be out of this house, out of their lives, and it wouldnt matter what they knew about me.Whereabouts? she pressed.Mystic Falls.Ive never heard of it.Its fairly small. Just one main street and some plantations.There was some shuffling movement under the table, and I could only assume that either Bridget or Lydia was trying to give Margaret a good kick. If the blow was successful, Margaret gave no sign.Are you an educated man? she continued.No, maam. I planned to study at the University of Virginia. The war put a stop to that.War is good for no one, Winfield said as he stabbed a piece of bacon with his fork.The war put a stop to much casual travel back and forth between the states, Margaret added.Whats that to do with anything? Bridget demanded.Your sister is suggesting that its an odd time for me to come north, I explained. But my father recently died. . . .From the war? Bridget demanded breathlessly. Lydia and Mrs. Sutherland glared at her.Indirectly, I answered. A war had claimed my fathers life, a war against vampires against me. My town . . . it burned, and there was nothing left for me anymore.So you came north, Lydia said.To try your pass on at business, maybe? Winfield suggested hopefully.Here was a man with three daughters, three beautiful daughters, but no sons. No one to share cigars and brandy with, no one to push and encourage and compete with in the world of business. I was both worried and amused by the gleam in his eye when he looked at me. Surel y there were families with sons in Manhattan who would make for more auspicious marital alliances.Whatever I can do, I aim to make my way in the world on my own, I replied, taking a sip of coffee. I would have to, without Lexi or Katherine to guide me. And if I ever saw Damon again, the only thing he would guide me toward was a newly sharpened stake.Where are you living? Margaret continued. Do you have family here?I cleared my throat, but before I had to tell my first real lie, Bridget groaned.Meggie, Im bored of this interrogationA hint of a smile bloomed on Lydias lips, and she quickly hid it easy her napkin. What would you prefer to talk about?Yourself? Margaret said with an arched brow.Yes, actually Bridget said, looking around the table. Her eyes glowed as green as Callies, but with her petulance on full display, she no longer reminded me of my lost love. I still dont know why I ran out on the party.Margaret rolled her eyes. Lydia shook her head.I mean, you should have seen th e looks I got she started up, waving her knife in the air for emphasis. Floras dress was the worst, especially considering shes a newly married woman. And my new sash oh no, was it ruined last night? I would hate to have it ruined Mama Was it on me when Stefan brought me home? We have to go back to the park and look for itHow about we go back to the park and look for the person who tried to kill you, Margaret suggested.Weve already had a discussion with Inspector Warren about it. He promises a thorough investigation, Mrs. Sutherland said. But, Bridget, you must(prenominal) promise not to run off from the Chesters ball this evening or I will be forced to stand watch over you in your bedroom.Bridget crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.And neither shall you run off, Mrs. Sutherland said more pointedly to Lydia. The middle sister blushed.Lydia has fallen in love with an Italian count, Bridget confided, her pout evaporating as she indulged in gossip. We all hope he asks her han d in marriage wouldnt that be splendid? Then wed all be like royalty, sort of, and not just rich merchants. Imagine, Lydia a countessWinfield laughed nervously. Bridget . . .Bridget fluttered her thick eyelashes. Its so wonderful that Lydia has a suitor, much less a count. After Meggie was wed, I was afraid Mother and Papa would become traditional and not let me marry until Lydia did and who knew how long that was going to take.Lydia is . . . particular, Mrs. Sutherland said.Oh really, Mama, Bridget rolled her eyes. As if anyone even had an interest before. And now she has a count. Its really . . . its really not fair, you know, if you think about it . . . if I had a proper coming out . . .I shifted in my seat, at once embarrassed for everyone, and yet glad to be involved in something as ordinary as a family squabble. This was the first time Id been among company since leaving Lexi in New Orleans.So many handsome, strange men in our lives these days, Margaret said, somewhere betwee n whimsy and warning. What an odd coincidence, Mr. Salvatore. Perhaps I neednt make the grand tour, after all.Hush now, Margaret, Winfield said.And actually I have no one to go to the Chesters with anyhow, Mama, Bridget was continuing, actually growing red in the face as if she was trying sort of hard to cry. She looked at me sidelong the entire time. I am sure Milash wont escort me after last night. . . . I am in dire need of rescue. . . .Bridget widened her green eyes at her father. Winfield frowned and stroked his muttonchops thoughtfully. In that moment, Bridget seemed as powerful as a vampire, able to compel her father to her every wish. Margaret put a hand to her head as if it ached.Mr. Salvatore will take you, Winfield said, gesturing at me with a fork full of biscuit. Hes rescued you once Im sure hes a gentleman who wouldnt leave you in distress again.All eyes were turned on me. Bridget perked up, smiling at me like a kitten just offered a bowl of cream.I balked.Im afraid I havent the proper attire . . . I began.Oh, that is solved easily enough, Mrs. Sutherland said with a knowing smile.Once again, Lydia murmured, too low for anyone else to hear, we are holding ugly Mr. Salvatore at our mercy. With pants.