Marsilia's eyes narrowed to slits, but she nodded her head.
Stefan took his hands off the chair carefully. The brass thorns were gleaming black with his blood.
Andre stepped forward and set Daniel's too-thin body on the chair in Stefan's place. Daniel pulled himself into a fetal position, tucking his hands protectively away from the arms of the chair, turning his shoulder when Stefan would have touched him.
"Andre?" Stefan asked.
Andre gave him a dirty look, but turned to Daniel. "Daniel, you will sit up and take your place in the Questioning Seat."
The young vampire began crying. With the speed of a crippled old man he straightened in the seat. He tried twice to lift his hands before Andre took them and impaled them on the thorns himself. Daniel began to shake.
"He's too weak for this," Andre told Stefan.
"You are his maker," Marsilia's voice was cold. "Fix it."
Andre's mouth tightened, but put his wrist in front of Daniel's mouth. "Feed," he said.
Daniel turned his head away.
"Daniel, feed."
I'd never seen a vampire strike. The swift jerk of Daniel's head made me press my hand over the bandages that covered Littleton 's fang marks on my neck. Andre grimaced as the other vampire bit down, but he didn't pull away.
It took a long time for Daniel to feed. During the whole while, none of the others moved except for the impatient tapping of Marsilia's bright nails on the cushioned arms of her chair. No one shifted in their seat or moved their toes. I stepped back, closer to Warren, and he put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at Stefan, who normally vibrated like a puppy, but he seemed to be caught up in the same spell as everyone else.
"Stop." Andre started to pull his arm away, but Daniel's teeth were still embedded in his wrist. Daniel ripped his hands off the chair, tearing a gash in the hand I could see, and curled both hands around Andre's forearm.
"Daniel, stop."
The vampire whimpered, but he pulled his face away. His hands still held onto Andre. He was shaking as he stared at the blood welling from the fang marks with eyes that glistened like diamonds. Andre twisted his arm away and grabbed Daniel's hands, slamming them back on the chair, impaling him again.
"Stay there," Andre hissed.
Daniel breathed in great gasps of air, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
"Ask your questions, Stefan," said Marsilia. "I tire of this show."
"Daniel," Stefan said, "I want you to remember the night you believe you killed those people."
Stefan's voice was gentle, but tears welled out of Daniel's eyes again. I'd been taught that vampires can't cry.
"I don't want to," he said.
"Truth," said Wulfe.
"I understand," said Stefan. "Nonetheless, tell us the very last thing you remember before the bloodlust hit."
"No," the boy said.
"Would you rather have Andre question you?"
"Parking at the hotel." Daniel's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in a long time.
"The one in Paseo where Cory Littleton, the vampire you were supposed to question, was staying."
"Yes."
"Bloodlust begins with a cause. Had you fed that night?"
"Yes," Daniel nodded. "Andre gave me one of his sheep when I woke for the night."
I didn't think he was talking about the kind of sheep with four hooves.
"So what caused you to hunger? Do you remember?"
Daniel closed his eyes. "There was so much blood." He sobbed once. "I knew it was wrong. Stefan, it was a baby. A crying baby... it smelled so good."
I glance around at the crowd in time to see the elderly vampire lick his lips. I quickly looked back at Daniel. I didn't want to know how many of the vampires were made hungry by Daniel's recount.
"The baby you killed in the orchard?" asked Stefan.
Daniel nodded his head and whispered, "Yes."
"Daniel the orchard is outside of Benton City, a half-hour drive from Paseo. How did you get there?"
Marsilia quit tapping her fingers. I remembered that Stefan had said that a vampire in the grips of bloodlust would never be able to drive a car. Apparently Marsilia agreed with him.
"I must have driven the car. It was there when I... when I was myself again."
"Why did you go to Benton City, Daniel?"
Daniel didn't answer for a moment. Finally he said, "I don't know. All I remember is blood."
"How much gas was in your car when you got to the hotel in Paseo?" Stefan asked.
"It was on empty," Daniel said slowly. "I remember because I was going to fill it... afterwards."
Stefan turned to his silent audience. "Bernard. How much gas was in the car Daniel was driving when you found him?"
He didn't want to answer. "Half full."
Stefan looked at Marsilia and waited.
Suddenly she smiled, a sweet smile that made her look like an innocent girl. "All right. I believe that there was someone with Daniel that night. You, I would believe, could drive twenty miles and fill up the car while under the burden of the bloodlust, but a new vampire like Daniel never could."
Daniel jerked his head toward Stefan. "That doesn't mean that I didn't kill those people. I remember it, Stefan."
"I know you do," he agreed. "You can leave the seat-if Wulfe is satisfied of your truth?" He glanced up.
The teenager next to Marsilia, who'd been cleaning something out from under his nail with his teeth, nodded his head.
"Master?" whispered Daniel.
Andre had been staring at the floor, but at Daniel's words he said. "You can leave the seat, Daniel."
"This doesn't prove anything except that there was another with Daniel that night. Someone who drove the car and filled it with gas," Bernard said.
"That's right," agreed Stefan mildly.
When Daniel tried to stand up, his legs wouldn't hold him. His hands also seemed to be stuck. Stefan helped him pry his hands free and then picked him up off the chair when it became apparent that despite the feeding, Daniel was still too weak to stand.
Stefan took a step toward Andre, but then he hesitated and brought him back to where the wolves and I were standing.
He set him down on the floor a few feet from Warren. "Stay there, Daniel," he said. "Can you do that?"
The young man nodded his head. "Yes." He held onto Stefan's arm though, and Stefan was forced to unwrap the other vampire's fingers before he could return to the chair. He took a handkerchief out of a back pocket and cleaned the arms of the chair until the brass tacks gleamed. No one complained about the time it took.