The Bloodlust by L. J. Smith

sense of where Damon was.
    Just then, Callie walked out of the main tent, trailed by her father and her two henchmen. She was wearing the same pair of overalls she’d had on the night before over a man’s linen shirt, and her hair fell around her shoulders. There was a smudge of dirt beneath her eye. I had a sudden urge to wipe it away but stuck my hands in my pocket instead.
    “Stefan!” she called, her face breaking into a smile. “You’re here. Father, this is the man I told you about.”
    Mr. Gallagher looked even more imposing up close. He towered above me, his dark brows knitted together. I kept my expression open, innocent. Lexi said Gallagher was a skilled vampire hunter—would he be able to detect the truth just by staring at me?
    “My daughter says you’re curious about vampires,” he said. “Prove you’re serious and work the ticket counter. Then we can talk.”
    “Yes, sir.” I nodded, feeling like Stefan the obedient child.
    “And, boy?” Gallagher asked, turning back toward me.
    “Yes?”
    “You want to place a bet on the fight? Winner’ll take a lot. Could make you a fortune.” He raised an eyebrow.
    My eyes narrowed, and blood screamed through my veins, fast and hot. How dare this man ask me to bet on my brother’s life? How dare he act so self-important when I could rip his throat out in an instant?
    “Stefan?” Callie asked warily.
    Forcing myself to calm down, I reached into the pockets of my well-worn britches and pulled them inside out. “I’m afraid I have no money, sir. That’s why I’m so grateful to have this job.”
    Gallagher took a step closer to me. “You say you’re from Mississippi, boy?” He gazed at me curiously. “Your accent sounds more northern—maybe Virginian.”
    “My parents were from Virginia. I suppose their accent rubbed off on me,” I said in as casual a voice as I could muster.
    After a long moment, he nodded. “Well, when you rustle up some currency, come find me. In the meantime, Callie will show you the ropes. And son?” he called, turning on his heel.
    “Yes, sir?” I asked.
    “I’ll be watching you.”

Chapter 17
    D on’t be bothered by him,” Callie said, once her father was a safe distance away.
    “I’m not,” I lied.
    Her green eyes flicked over me, as if she didn’t believe my words. But she didn’t press the issue.
    “I’ll give you a quick tour,” she said, taking me into one of the smaller tents. In a corner, a woman was hunched over a mirror. She turned, and I took a step back. Her face was covered with tattoos, which, upon closer inspection, were courtesy of rapidly drying India ink.
    “The tattooed woman,” Callie said. “And the conjoined twins.”
    The woman and the twins next to her waved at us. The twins’ bodies were connected at the hip. They were beautiful, with blond hair and sad expressions. A man with flippers instead of arms whispered something in one of their ears. They glanced at each other, then broke into laughter.
    “This is the show.” Callie opened her hands wide, and for the first time I noticed a wooden stake dangling on a silver chain from her wrist. She also had a sprig of vervain tucked behind her ear.
    “Miss Callie!” A hulking, seven-foot-tall mountain of a man ducked under the door of the tent and walked toward us. He picked her up by her tiny waist and swung her around.
    “Arnold!” she said gleefully. “The world’s strongest man. Married to the bearded lady,” she explained to me before looking back up at Arnold. “How is Caroline feeling?”
    The giant shrugged. “She’s doing well. Can’t wait to come back and introduce everyone to the babies.”
    “They just had twins!” Callie said fondly.
    I nodded my greeting to the man and gazed over Callie’s shoulder. Where were they keeping Damon?
    “Are you okay?” Callie asked. She brushed my arm, and I flinched when the vervain touched my skin.
    “I just need air,” I said, bursting out of the tent.
    Callie ran after