"Forever panting, and forever young," I whispered, pleased at how well the lines from the poet Keats suited my new life.
"Sir!" The conductor knocked on the door. I strode out of the compartment, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He was the same conductor whod stopped Damon and me just outside Mystic Falls, and I saw suspicion flash across his face.
"Were in New Orleans, then?" I asked, the taste of Lavinias blood in the back of my throat.
The ginger-haired conductor nodded. "And the ladies? Theyre aware?"
"Oh yes, theyre aware," I said, not breaking my gaze as I slipped my ticket out of my pocket. "But they asked not to be disturbed. And I ask not to be disturbed, too. Youve never seen me. Youve never been by this compartment. Later, if anyone asks, you say there may have been some thieves who got on the train outside Richmond. They looked suspicious. Union soldiers," I invented.
"Union soldiers?" the conductor repeated, clearly confused.
I sighed. Until I had compelling under control, Id have to resort to a more permanent style of memory erasing. In a flash I grabbed the conductor by the neck and snapped it as easily as if it were a sweet pea. Then I threw him into the compartment with Lavinia and shut the door behind me.
"Yes, Union soldiers always do make a bloody mess of things, dont they?" I asked rhetorically. Then, whistling the whole way, I went to collect Damon from the gentlemens club car.
Chapter 6
Damon was slumped right where Id left him, an untouched whiskey glass sweating on the oak table in front of him.
"Come on," I said roughly, yanking Damon up by the arm.
The train was slowing, and all around us passengers were gathering their belongings and lining up behind a conductor who stood in front of the black iron doors to the outside world. But since we were unencumbered by possessions and blessed with strength, I knew our best bet was to exit the train the same way wed entered: by jumping off the back of the caboose. I wanted us both to be long gone before anyone noticed anything was amiss.
"You look well,brother." His tone was light, but the chalkiness of his skin and the purpling beneath his eyes gave away just how truly tired and hungry he was. For an instant, I wished Id left some of Lavinia for him, but quickly brushed aside the thought. I had to take a firm hand. That was how Father used to train the horses. Denying them food until they finally stopped yanking on the reins and submitted to being ridden. It was the same with Damon. He needed to be broken.
"One of us has to maintain our strength," I told Damon, my back to him as I led the way to the last car of the train.
The train was still creeping along, the wheels scraping against the iron lengths of track. We didnt have much time. We scrambled back through the sooty coal to the door, which I pulled open easily.
"On three! One Two " I grabbed his wrist and jumped. Both of our knees hit the hard dirt below with a thud.
"Always have to show off, dont you, brother?" Damon said, wincing. I noticed his trousers had been torn at the knees from the fall, and his hands were pockmarked with gravel. I was untouched, except for a scrape on my elbow.
"You should have fed." I shrugged.
The whistle of the train shrieked, and I took in the sights. We were on the edge of New Orleans, a bustling city filled with smoke and an aroma like a combination of butter and firewood and murky water. It was far bigger than Richmond, which had been the largest city Id ever known. But there was something else, a sense of danger that filled the air. I grinned. Here was a city we could disappear in.
I began walking toward town at the superhuman speed I still hadnt gotten used to, Damon trailing behind me, his footfalls loud and clumsy, but steady. We made our way down Garden Street, clearly a main artery of the city. Surrounding us were rows of homes, as neat and colorful as dollhouses. The air was soupy and humid, and voices speaking French, English, and languages Id never heard created a patchwork of sound.
Left and right, I could see alleyways leading down to the water, and rows of vendors were set up on the sidewalks, selling everything from freshly caught turtles to precious stones imported from Africa. Even the presence of blue-coated Union soldiers on every street corner, their muskets at their hips, seemed somehow festive. It was a carnival in every sense of the word, the type of scene Damon would have loved when we were human. I turned to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Damons lips were curved in a slight smile, his eyes glowing in a way I hadnt seen in what felt like ages. We were in this adventure together, and now, away from memories of Katherine and Fathers remains and Veritas, maybe Damon could finally accept and embrace who he was.
"Remember when we said wed travel the world?" I asked, turning toward him. "This is our world now."
Damon nodded slightly. "Katherine told me about New Orleans. She once lived here."
"And if she were here, shed want you to make this town your own--to live here, be here, to take your fill and make your place in the world."
"Always the poet." Damon smirked, but he continued to follow me.
"Perhaps, but its true. All of this is ours," I said encouragingly, spreading my hands wide.
Damon took a moment to consider my words and simply said, "All right, then."
"All right?" I repeated, hardly hoping to believe it. It was the first time hed glanced into my eyes since our fight at the quarry.
"Yes. Im following you." He turned in a citcle, pointing to the various buildings. "So, where do we stay? What do we do? Show me this brave new world." Damons lips twisted into a smile, and I couldnt tell whether he was mocking me or was speaking in earnest. I chose to believe the latter.
I sniffed the air and immediately caught a whiff of lemon and ginger.Katherine.Damons shoulders stiffened; he must have smelled it, too. Wordlessly, both of us spun on our heels and walked down an unmarked alleyway, following a woman wearing a satin lilac dress, a large sunbonnet on top of her dark curls.