"Murderer!" she yel ed again, tears springing from her eyes. "Help!"
"She must be in shock," I said to the doctor, hoping there was a medical explanation for her behavior, and not what I feared: that she thought I was her attacker.
The doctor nodded, although I couldn't be sure he wasn't just agreeing to appease a suspected criminal.
A starry blackness was forming at the edge of my brain, threatening to overtake me into a faint, but I summoned al my strength. She needed to calm down. Whether she thought I was the murderer because she remembered me kneeling by her side, saving her, or whether she thought I was the murderer because someone had compel ed her to think that way, I needed to correct her.
"Listen to me," I said to the girl, forcing my Power into the words. She stopped mid-scream. The room was suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "I'm your friend. I'm Stefan. I found you. I saved you. You're safe now. There's no murderer here." It took everything I had to keep my gaze on the girl. Thankful y, her weakened state made the compulsion possible. She nodded, then turned to look at the doctor.
"Good girl," I murmured.
"She's al yours," I told the doctor. I had just narrowly escaped that one and I didn't want to push my luck by staying a second longer. The look on his face made me think compel ing him wouldn't be necessary. He was starting to relax and get back to his work.
I marched down the stairs and into the tavern, where I caught sight of my brother, laughing as if he'd never been more amused in his life.
Chapter Eleven
Entering the main part of the tavern, I headed to the bar to get a drink and colect myself. Had Martha been compeled to believe I'd attacked her?
Had Damon compel ed her? It was possible, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. She'd barely even opened her eyes before she blamed me. And she hadn't listened to me at first, she'd simply screamed, as if she'd been primed to do so. There were only two people that could have compel ed her to think that way: the vampire I chased to the docks, or Damon, after I'd left her with him.
I ordered a whiskey and turned back to the tables. I could question one suspect right now.
"Hel o, brother!" Damon said pleasantly, holding his glass out to me as a form of greeting. "I'm afraid the excitement distracted you from your duties for the evening. I believe you were in charge of the bar tab?" he asked expectantly. "I had a few more whiskeys than I'd intended, but I think they're justified, given the circumstances."
"Why did you do it?" I hissed as I slid into the chair opposite him. I kept thinking of the girl's thin, reedy scream.
"Do what?" Damon asked innocently, taking another sip of his drink.
"You know what I'm talking about," I said darkly.
"No, I don't, actual y. I'm sorry if I was unsatisfactory in playing nursemaid to some no-name girl. How was your kil er-catching?" he said, arching an eyebrow.
I'm not playing games. And I don't care if you don't want to help, but I know the killer is a vampire, I said under my breath, in a voice low enough that only Damon could hear. If anything, I thought I saw a vague flicker of surprise cross his eyes. I couldn't catch him.
So what? Damon asked after a pause. In all your years roaming you never encountered another one of us, except for the vampire freak house you and Lexi lived in down in New Orleans? You always seem so surprised. We kill, brother. It's nothing novel. Or particularly interesting.
The only thing interesting about this is seeing you learn this lesson, over and over again. Hasn't this finally taught you not to meddle? No one appreciates it. Not humans, and not vampires, Damon said, stil smiling.
A chil crept up my spine. Had Damon framed me for the murders? Had that been his grand plan? Because he knew that I'd try to help. I couldn't stop myself from getting far too involved in human problems.
I don't seek out problems, I said simply. And I don't create them.
Well, maybe you should. They can be fun. Of course, this problem is stupid and careless and blood-drunk, leaving us to clean up his dirty work, Damon mused. "But what's the point?" Damon asked in his normal voice.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"So you find him. Then what?" he asked, steepling his fingers, then resting his chin against them.
"Then I . . ." I floundered. Would I kil him? Bring him to the police?
Damon looked at me with a bemused expression. "See? You used to think too much. Now you don't think at al . I always thought it would do you good to be more impulsive, but your impulsivity is getting you nowhere. And you know why?" he asked, leaning in close toward me, so much so that I could smel rich, sweet blood on his breath. But was it Charlotte's blood? Or Martha's? Or could it be someone else's entirely?
"Why?" I asked. The scent of the blood was overwhelming.
"Because you're not doing it for yourself. You're doing it for humanity. For the greater good," Damon said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "But remember, we're not part of humanity anymore."
"So then why are you constantly compel ing yourself into social circles and playing stupid tricks on people? Why are you insistent on being Damon the duke, or Damon the viscount? If we're not part of humanity, why don't you remove yourself from society?" I asked. Despite my words, I wasn't angry at him. Rather, I just wanted to understand what Damon was after.
"Where would I go?" Damon asked, a faraway expression on his face. But al of a sudden, he grinned making his searching look seem to be nothing more than a trick of the light. "And I compel myself into social circles because I can. Because it intrigues me. And my pleasure is al that matters."