The full moon was directly overhead when Stefan came back to the boarding house. He was giddy,
almost reeling, both from fatigue and from the glut of blood he'd taken. It had been a long time since he'd
let himself feed so heavily. But the burst of wild Power by the graveyard had caught him up in its frenzy,
shattering his already weakened control. He still wasn't sure where the Power had come from. He had
been watching the human girls from his place in the shadows when it had exploded from behind him,
sending the girls fleeing. He had been caught between the fear that they would run into the river and the
desire to probe this Power and find its source. In the end, he had followedher , unable to chance her
getting hurt.
Something black had winged toward the woods as the humans reached the sanctuary of the bridge, but
even Stefan's night senses could not make out what it was. He had watched while she and the other two
started in the direction of town. Then he had turned back to the graveyard.
It was empty now, purged of whatever had been there. On the ground lay a thin strip of silk that to
ordinary eyes would have been gray in the dark. But he saw its true color, and as he crushed it between
his fingers, bringing it slowly up to touch his lips, he could smell the scent of her hair.
Memory engulfed him. It was bad enough when she was out of sight, when the cool glow of her mind
only teased at the edges of his consciousness. But to be in the same room with her at the school, to feel
her presence behind him, to smell the heady fragrance of her skin all around him, was almost more than
he could bear.
He had heard every soft breath she took, felt her warmth radiating against his back, sensed each throb
of her sweet pulse. And eventually, to his horror, he had found himself giving in to it. His tongue had
brushed back and forth over his canine teeth, enjoying the pleasure-pain that was building there,
encouraging it. He'd breathed her smell into his nostrils deliberately, and let the visions come to him,
imagining it all. How soft her neck would be, and how his lips would meet it with equal softness at first,
planting tiny kisses here, and here, until he reached the yielding hollow of her throat. How he would
nuzzle there, in the place where her heart beat so strongly against the delicate skin. And how at last hislips would part, would draw back from aching teeth now sharp as little daggers, and—
No. He'd brought himself out of the trance with a jerk, his own pulse beating raggedly, his body shaking.
The class had been dismissed, movement was all around him, and he could only hope no one had been
observing him too closely.
When she had spoken to him, he had been unable to believe that he had to face her while his veins
burned and his whole upper jaw ached. He'd been afraid for a moment that his control would break, that
he would seize her shoulders and take her in front of all of them. He had no idea how he'd gotten away,
only that some time later he was channeling his energy into hard exercise, dimly aware that he must not
use the Powers. It didn't matter; even without them he was in every way superior to the mortal boys who
competed with him on the football field.
His sight was sharper, his reflexes faster, his muscles stronger. Presently a hand had clapped him on the
back and Matt's voice had rung in his ears:
"Congratulations! Welcome to the team!"
Looking into that honest, smiling face, Stefan had been overcome with shame. If you knew what I was,
you wouldn't smile at me, he'd thought grimly. I've won this competition of yours by deception. And the
girl you love—you do love her, don't you?—is in my thoughts right now.
And she had remained in his thoughts despite all his efforts to banish her that afternoon. He had
wandered to the graveyard blindly, pulled from the woods by a force he did not understand. Once there
he had watched her, fighting himself, fighting the need, until the surge of Power had sent her and her
friends running. And then he'd come home—but only after feeding. After losing control of himself.
He couldn't remember exactly how it had happened, how he'd let it happen. That flare of Power had
started it, awakening things inside him best left sleeping. The hunting need. The craving for the chase, for
the smell of fear and the savage triumph of the kill. It had been years—centuries—since he'd felt the need
with such force. His veins had begun burning like fire. And all his thoughts had turned red: he could think
of nothing else but the hot coppery taste, the primal vibrancy, of blood.
With that excitement still raging through him, he'd taken a step or two after the girls. Whatmight have
happened if he hadn't scented the old man was better not thought about. But as he reached the end of the
bridge, his nostrils had flared at the sharp, distinctive odor of human flesh.
Humanblood . The ultimate elixir, the forbidden wine. More intoxicating than any liquor, the steaming
essence of life itself. And he was so tired of fighting the need.
There had been a movement on the bank under the bridge, as a pile of old rags stirred. And the next
instant, Stefan had landed gracefully, catlike, beside it. His hand shot out and pulled the rags away,
exposing a wizened, blinking face atop a scrawny neck. His lips drew back.
And then there was no sound but the feeding.
Now, as he stumbled up the main staircase of the boarding house, he tried not to think about it, and not
to think about her—about the girl who tempted him with her warmth, her life. She had been the one he
truly desired, but he must put a stop to that, he must kill any such thoughts before they were started from
now on. For his sake, and for her own. He was her worst nightmare come true, and she didn't even
know it."Who's there? Is that you, boy?" a cracked voice called sharply. One of the second-story doors
opened, and a gray head poked out.
"Yes,signora —Mrs. Flowers. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."
"Ah, it takes more than a creaky floorboard to disturb me. You locked the door behind you?"
"Yes,signora . You're… safe."
"That's right. We need to be safe here. You never know what might be out there in those woods, do
you?" He looked quickly at the smiling little face surrounded by wisps of gray hair, the bright darting
eyes. Was there a secret hidden in them?
"Good night,signora ."
"Good night, boy." She shut the door.
In his own room he fell onto the bed and lay staring up at the low, slanting ceiling.
Usually he rested uneasily at night; it was not his natural sleeping time. But tonight he was tired. It took
so much energy to face the sunlight, and the heavy meal only contributed to his lethargy. Soon, although
his eyes did not close, he no longer saw the whitewashed ceiling above him.
Random scraps of memory floated through his mind. Katherine, so lovely that evening by the fountain,
moonlight silvering her pale golden hair. How proud he had been to sit with her, to be the one to share
her secret…
"But can you never go out in sunlight?"
"Ican , yes, as long as I wear this." She held up a small white hand, and the moonlight shone on the lapis
ring there. "But the sun tires me so much. I have never been very strong."
Stefan looked at her, at the delicacy of her features and the slightness of her body. She was almost as
insubstantial as spun glass. No, she would never have been strong.
"I was often ill as a child," she said softly, her eyes on the play of water in the fountain. "The last time, the
surgeon finally said I would die. I remember Papa crying, and I remember lying in my big bed, too weak
to move. Even breathing was too much effort. I was so sad to leave the world and so cold, so very cold."
She shivered, and then smiled.
"But what happened?"
"I woke in the middle of the night to see Gudren, my maid, standing over my bed. And then she stepped
aside, and I saw the man she had brought. I was frightened. His name was Klaus, and I'd heard the
people in the village say he was evil. I cried out to Gudren to save me, but she just stood there, watching.
When he put his mouth to my neck, I thought he was going to kill me."
She paused. Stefan was staring at her in horror and pity, and she smiled comfortingly at him. "It was not
so terrible after all. There was a little pain at first, but that quickly went away. And then the feeling was
actually pleasant. When he gave me of his own blood to drink, I felt stronger than I had for months. Andthen we waited out the hours together until dawn. When the surgeon came, he couldn't believe I was able
to sit up and speak. Papa said it was a miracle, and he cried again from happiness." Her face clouded. "I
will have to leave my papa sometime soon. One day he will realize that since that illness I have not grown
an hour older."
"And you never will?"
"No. That is the wonder of it, Stefan!" She gazed up at him with childlike joy. "I will be young forever,
and I will never die! Can you imagine?"
He could not imagine her as anything other than what she was now: lovely, innocent, perfect. "But—you
did not find it frightening at first?"
"At first, a little. But Gudren showed me what to do. It was she who told me to have this ring made, with
a gem that would protect me from sunlight. While I lay in bed, she brought me rich warm possets to
drink. Later, she brought small animals her son trapped."
"Not… people?"
Her laughter rang out. "Of course not. I can get all I need in a night from a dove. Gudren says that if I
wish to be powerful I should take human blood, for the life essence of humans is strongest. And Klaus
used to urge me, too; he wanted to exchange blood again. But I tell Gudren I do not want power. And as
for Klaus…" She stopped and dropped her eyes, so that heavy lashes lay on her cheek. Her voice was
very soft as she continued. "I do not think it is a thing to be done lightly. I will take human blood only
when I have found my companion, the one who will be by my side for all eternity." She looked up at him
gravely.
Stefan smiled at her, feeling light-headed and bursting with pride. He could scarcely contain the
happiness he felt at that moment.
But that was before his brother Damon had returned from the University. Before Damon had come back
and seen Katherine's jewel-blue eyes.
On his bed in the low-roofed room, Stefan moaned. Then the darkness drew him in deeper and new
images began to flicker through his mind.
They were scattered glimpses of the past that did not form a connected sequence. He saw them like
scenes briefly illuminated by flashes of lightning. His brother's face, twisted into a mask of inhuman anger.
Katherine's blue eyes sparkling and dancing as she pirouetted in her new white gown. The glimmer of
white behind a lemon tree. The feel of a sword in his hand; Giuseppe's voice shouting from far away. The
lemon tree. He must not go behind the lemon tree. He saw Damon's face again, but this time his brother
was laughing wildly. Laughing on and on, a sound like the grate of broken glass. And the lemon tree was
closer now…
"Damon—Katherine—no!"
He was sitting bolt upright on his bed.
He ran shaking hands through his hair and steadied his breath.A terrible dream. It had been a long time since he had been tortured by dreams like that; long, indeed,
since he'd dreamed at all. The last few seconds played over and over again in his mind, and he saw again
the lemon tree and heard again his brother's laughter.
It echoed in his mind almosttoo clearly. Suddenly, without being aware of a conscious decision to move,
Stefan found himself at the open window. The night air Was cool on his cheeks as he looked into the
silvery dark.
"Damon?" He sent the thought out on a surge of Power, questing. Then he fell into absolute stillness,
listening with all his senses.
He could feel nothing, no ripple of response. Nearby, a pair of night birds rose in flight. In the town,
many minds were sleeping; in the woods, nocturnal animals went about their secret business.
He sighed and turned back into the room. Perhaps he'd been wrong about the laughter; perhaps he'd
even been wrong about the menace in the graveyard. Fell's Church was still, and peaceful, and he should
try to emulate it. He needed sleep.
September 5 (actually early September 6—about 1:00 a.m.) Dear Diary,
I should go back to bed soon. Just a few minutes ago I woke up thinking someone was shouting,
but now the house is quiet. So many strange things have happened tonight that my nerves are
shot, I guess.
At least I woke up knowing exactly what I'm going to do about Stefan. The whole thing just sort
of sprang into my mind. Plan B, Phase One, begins tomorrow.
Frances's eyes were blazing, and her cheeks were flushed with color as she approached the three girls at
the table.
"Oh, Elena, you've got to hear this!"
Elena smiled at her, polite but not too intimate. Frances ducked her brown head. "I mean… can I join
you? I've just heard the wildest thing about Stefan Salvatore."
"Have a seat," said Elena graciously. "But," she added, buttering a roll, "we're not really interested in the
news."
"You—?" Frances stared. She looked at Meredith, then at Bonnie. "You guys are joking, right?"
"Not at all." Meredith speared a green bean and eyed it thoughtfully. "We have other things on our minds
today."
"Exactly," said Bonnie after a sudden start. "Stefan's old news, you know. Passe." She bent down and
rubbed her ankle.Frances looked at Elena appealingly. "But I thought you wanted to know all about him."
"Curiosity," Elena said. "After all, he is a visitor, and I wanted to welcome him to Fell's Church. But of
course I have to be loyal to Jean-Claude."
"Jean-Claude?"
"Jean-Claude," said Meredith, raising her eyebrows and sighing.
"Jean-Claude," echoed Bonnie gamely.
Delicately, with thumb and forefinger, Elena drew a photo out of her backpack. "Here he is standing in
front of the cottage where we stayed. Right afterward he picked me a flower and said…"Well,"—she
smiled mysteriously—"I shouldn't repeat it."
Frances was gazing at the photo. It showed a bronzed young man, shirtless, standing in front of a
hibiscus bush and smiling shyly. "He's older, isn't he?" she said with respect.
"Twenty-one. Of course,"—Elena glanced over Tier shoulder—"my aunt would never approve, so we're
keeping it from her until I graduate. We have to write to each other secretly."
"How romantic," Frances breathed. "I'll never tell a soul, I promise. But about Stefan…"
Elena gave her a superior smile. "If," she said, "I am going to eat Continental, I prefer French to Italian
every time." She turned to Meredith. "Right?"
"Mm-hmm. Everytime." Meredith and Elena smiled knowingly at each other, then turned to Frances.
"Don't you agree?"
"Oh, yes," said Frances hastily. "Me, too. Every time." She smiled knowingly herself and nodded several
times as she got up and left.
When she was gone, Bonnie said piteously, "This is going to kill me. Elena, I am going to die if I don't
hear the gossip."
"Oh, that? I can tell you," Elena replied calmly. "She was going to say there's a rumor going around that
Stefan Salvatore is a narc."
"Awhat !" Bonnie stared, and then burst into laughter. "But that's ridiculous. What narc in the world
would dress like that and wear dark glasses? I mean, he's done everything he can to draw attention to
himself…" Her voice trailed off, and her brown eyes widened. "But then, that may bewhy he does it.
Who would ever suspect anybody so obvious? And he does live alone, and he's awfully secretive…
Elena! What if it's true?"
"It isn't," said Meredith.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm the one who started it." At Bonnie's expression, she grinned and added: "Elena told me to."
"Ohhhh." Bonnie looked admiringly at Elena. "You're wicked. Can I tell people he's got a terminaldisease?"
"No, you cannot. I don't want any Florence Nightingale types lining up to hold his hand. But you can tell
people whatever you want about Jean-Claude."
Bonnie picked up the photograph. "Who was he really?"
"The gardener. He was crazy about those hibiscus bushes. He was also married, with two kids."
"Pity," said Bonnie seriously. "And you told Frances not to tell anyone about him…"
"Right." Elena checked her watch. "Which means that by, oh, say two o'clock, it ought to be all over the
school."
After school, the girls went to Bonnie's house. They were greeted at the front door by a shrill yapping,
and when Bonnie opened the door, a very old, very fat Pekingese tried to escape. His name was
Yangtze, and he was so spoiled that no one except Bonnie's mother could stand him. He nipped at
Elena's ankle as she went by.
The living room was dim and crowded, with lots of rather fussy furniture and heavy curtains at the
windows. Bonnie's sister Mary was there, unpinning a cap from her wavy red hair. She was just two
years older than Bonnie, and she worked at the Fell's Church clinic.
"Oh, Bonnie," she said, "I'm glad you're back. Hello, Elena, Meredith."
Elena and Meredith said "hello." "What's the matter? You look tired," said Bonnie.
Mary dropped her cap on the coffee table. Instead of answering, she asked a question in return. "Last
night when you came home so upset, where did you say you girls had been?"
"Down in the—Just down by Wickery Bridge."
"That's what I thought." Mary took a deep breath. "Now, you listen to me, Bonnie McCullough. Don't
youever go out there again, and especially not alone and at night. Do you understand?"
"But why not?" Bonnie asked, bewildered.
"Because last night somebody was attacked out there, that's why not. And do you know where they
found him? Righton the bank under Wickery Bridge ."
Elena and Meredith stared at her in disbelief, and Bonnie clutched at Elena's arm. "Somebody was
attacked under the bridge? But who was it? What happened?"
"I don't know. This morning one of the cemetery workers spotted him lying there. He was some
homeless person, I guess, and he'd probably been sleeping under the bridge when he was attacked. But
he was half dead when they brought him in, and he hasn't regained consciousness yet. He may die."
Elena swallowed. "What do you mean, attacked?""I mean," said Mary distinctly, "that his throat was nearly ripped out. He lost an incredible amount of
blood. They thought it might have been an animal at first, but now Dr. Lowen says it was a person. And
the police think whoever did it may be hiding in the cemetery." Mary looked at each of them in turn, her
mouth a straight line. "So if youwere there by the bridge—or in the cemetery, Elena Gilbert—then this
person may have been there with you.Get it ?"
"You don't have to scare us anymore," said Bonnie faintly. "We get the point, Mary."
"All right. Good." Mary's shoulders slumped, and she rubbed at the back of her neck wearily. "I've got
to lie down for a while. I didn't mean to be crabby." She walked out of the living room.
Alone, the three girls looked at one another.
"It could have been one of us," said Meredith quietly. "Especially you, Elena; you went there alone."
Elena's skin was prickling, that same painfully alert feeling she'd had in the old graveyard. She could feel
the chill of the wind and see the rows of tall tombstones all around her. Sunshine and Robert E. Lee had
never seemed so far away.
"Bonnie," she said slowly, "did you see somebody out there? Is that what you meant when you said
someone was waiting for me?"
In the dim room, Bonnie looked at her blankly. "What are you talking about? I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't. I never said that."
"Bonnie," said Meredith, "we both heard you. You stared out at the old gravestones, and then you told
Elena—"
"I don't know what you're talking about, and I didn't sayanything ." Bonnie's face was pinched with
anger, but there were tears in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Elena and Meredith looked at one another helplessly. Outside, the sun went behind a cloud.September 26
Dear Diary,
I'm sorry it's been so long, and I can't really explain why I haven't written—except that there are
so many things I feel frightened to talk about, even to you.
First, the most terrible thing happened. The day that Bonnie and Meredith and I were at the
cemetery, an old man was attacked there, and almost killed. The police still haven't found the
She focused on his shoulder, the line of his jaw, and then he was turning toward her.
In that instant, Elena was aware that she was beautiful. It wasn't just the dress, or the way her hair was
done. She was beautiful in herself: slender, imperial, a thing made of silk and inner fire. She saw his lips
part slightly, reflexively, and then she looked up into his eyes.
"Hello." Was that her own voice, so quiet and self-assured? His eyes were green. Green as oak leaves in
summer. "Are you having a good time?" she said.
I am now. He didn't say it, but she knew it was what he was thinking; she could see it in the way he
stared at her. She had never been so sure of her power. Except that actually he didn't look as if he were
having a good time; he looked stricken, in pain, as if he couldn't take one more minute of this.
The band was starting up, a slow dance. He was still staring at her, drinking her in. Those green eyes
darkening, going black with desire. She had the sudden feeling that he might jerk her to him and kiss her
hard, without ever saying a word.
"Would you like to dance?" she said softly. I'm playing with fire, with something I don't understand, she
thought suddenly. And in that instant she realized that she was frightened. Her heart began to pound
violently. It was as if those green eyes spoke to some part of her that was buried deep beneath the
surface—and that part was screaming "danger" at her. Some instinct older than civilization was telling her
to run, to flee.
She never moved. The same force that was terrifying her was holding her there. This is out of control,
she thought suddenly. Whatever was happening here was beyond her understanding, was nothing normal
or sane. But there was no stopping it now, and even while frightened she was reveling in it. It was the
most intense moment she'd ever experienced with a boy, but nothing at all was happening. He was just
gazing at her, as if hypnotized, and she was gazing back, while the energy shimmered between them like
heat lightning. She saw his eyes go darker, defeated, and felt the wild leap of her own heart as he slowly
stretched out one hand.
And then it all shattered.
"Why, Elena, howsweet you look," said a voice, and Elena's vision was dazzled with gold. It was
Caroline, her auburn hair rich and glossy, her skin tanned to a perfect bronze. She was wearing a dress
of pure gold lame that showed an incredibly daring amount of that perfect skin. She slipped one bare arm
through Stefan's and smiled lazily up at him. They were stunning together, like a couple of international
models slumming at a high school dance, far more glamorous and sophisticated than anyone else in the
room.
"And that little dress is sopretty ," continued Caroline, while Elena's mind kept on running on automatic.
That casually possessive arm linked with Stefan's told her everything: where Caroline had been at lunch
these past weeks, what she had been up to all this time. "I told Stefan we simply had to stop by for a
moment, but we're not going to stay long. So you don't mind if I keep him to myself for the dances, do
you?"
Elena was strangely calm now, her mind a humming blank. She said no, of course she didn't mind, and
watched Caroline move away, a symphony in auburn and gold. Stefan went with her.
There was a circle of faces around Elena; she turned from them and came up against Matt."You knew he was coming with her."
"I knew she wanted him to. She's been following him around at lunchtime and after school, and kind of
forcing herself on him. But…"
"I see." Still held in that queer, artificial calm, she scanned the crowd and saw Bonnie coming toward
her, and Meredith leaving her table. They'd seen, then. Probably everyone had. Without a word to Matt,
she moved toward them, heading instinctively for the girls' rest room.
It was packed with bodies, and Meredith and Bonnie kept their remarks bright and casual while looking
at her with concern.
"Did you see that dress?" said Bonnie, squeezing Elena's fingers secretly. "The front must be held on with
superglue. And what's she going to wear to the next dance? Cellophane?"
"Handiwrap," said Meredith. She added in a low voice, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." Elena could see in the mirror that her eyes were too bright and that there was one spot of color
burning on each cheek. She smoothed her hair and turned away.
The room emptied, leaving them in privacy. Bonnie was fiddling nervously with the sequined bow at her
waist now. "Maybe it isn't such a bad thing after all," she said quietly. "I mean, you haven't thought about
anything else but him in weeks. Nearly a month. And so maybe it's just for the best, and you can move
on to other things now, instead of… well, chasing him."
Et tu, Brute? thought Elena. "Thank you so much for your support," she said aloud.
"Now, Elena, don't be like that," Meredith put in. "She isn't trying to hurt you, she just thinks—"
"And I suppose you think so, too? Well, that's fine. I'll just go out and find myself some other things to
move on to. Like some other best friends." She left them both staring after her.
Outside, she threw herself into the whirl of color and music. She was brighter than she had ever been at
any dance before. She danced with everyone, laughing too loudly, flirting with every boy in her path.
They were calling her to come up and be crowned. She stood on the stage, looking down on the
butterfly-bright figures below. Someone gave her flowers; someone put a rhinestone tiara on her head.
There was clapping. It all passed as if in a dream.
She flirted with Tyler because he was closest when she came off the stage. Then she remembered what
he and Dick had done to Stefan, and she broke off one of the roses from her bouquet and gave it to him.
Matt was looking on from the sidelines, his mouth tight. Tyler's forgotten date was almost in tears.
She could smell alcohol along with the mint on Tyler's breath now, and his face was red. His friends
were around her, a shouting, laughing crowd, and she saw Dick pour something from a brown paper bag
into his glass of punch.
She'd never been with this group before. They welcomed her, admiring her, the boys vying for her
attention. Jokes flew back and forth, and Elena laughed even when they didn't make sense. Tyler's arm
circled her waist, and she just laughed harder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt shake his headand walk away. The girls were getting shrill, the boys rowdy. Tyler was nuzzling moistly at her neck.
"I've got an idea," he announced to the group, hugging Elena more tightly to him. "Let's go someplace
more fun."
Somebody shouted, "Like where, Tyler? Your dad's house?"
Tyler was grinning, a big, boozy, reckless grin. "No, I mean someplace where we can leave our mark.
Like the cemetery."
The girls squealed. The boys elbowed each other and faked punches.
Tyler's date was still standing outside the circle. "Tyler, that's crazy," she said, her voice high and thin.
"You know what happened to that old man. I won't go there."
"Great, then, you stay here." Tyler fished keys out of his pocket and waved them at the rest of the
crowd. "Whoisn't afraid?" he said.
"Hey, I'm up for it," said Dick, and there was a chorus of approval.
"Me, too," said Elena, clear and defiant. She smiled up at Tyler, and he practically swung her off her
feet.
And then she and Tyler were leading a noisy, roughhousing group out into the parking lot, where they
were all piling into cars. And then Tyler was putting the top of his convertible down and she was climbing
in, with Dick and a girl named Vickie Bennett squashing into the back seat.
"Elena!" somebody shouted, far away, from the lighted doorway at the school.
"Drive," she said to Tyler, taking off her tiara, and the engine growled to life. They burned rubber out of
the parking lot, and the cool night wind blew into Elena's face.Bonnie was on the dance floor, eyes shut, letting the music flow through her. When she opened her eyes
for an instant, Meredith was beckoning from the sidelines. Bonnie thrust her chin out mutinously, but as
the gestures became more insistent she rolled her eyes up at Raymond and obeyed. Raymond followed.
Matt and Ed were behind Meredith. Matt was scowling. Ed was looking uncomfortable.
"Elena just left," said Meredith.
"It's a free country," said Bonnie.
"She went with Tyler Smallwood," said Meredith. "Matt, are you sure you didn't hear where they were
going?"
Matt shook his head. "I'd say she deserves whatever happens—but it's my fault, too, in a way," he saidbleakly. "I guess we ought to go after her."
"Leave thedance ?" Bonnie said. She looked at Meredith, who mouthed the wordsyou promised . "I
don't believe this," she muttered savagely.
"I don't know how we'll find her," said Meredith, "but we've got to try." Then she added, in a strangely
hesitant voice, "Bonnie,you don't happen to know where she is, do you?"
"What? No, of course not; I've been dancing. You've heard of that, haven't you: what you go to a dance
for?"
"You and Ray stay here," Matt said to Ed. "If she comes back, tell her we're out looking."
"And if we're going, we'd better go now," Bonnie put in ungraciously. She turned and promptly ran into a
dark blazer.
"Well, excuse me," she snapped, looking up and seeing Stefan Salvatore. He said nothing as she and
Meredith and Matt headed for the door, leaving an unhappy-looking Raymond and Ed behind.
The stars were distant and ice-bright in the cloudless sky. Elena felt just like them. Part of her was
laughing and shouting with Dick and Vickie and Tyler over the roar of the wind, but part of her was
watching from far away.
Tyler parked halfway up the hill to the ruined church, leaving his headlights on as they all got out.
Although there had been several cars behind them when they left the school, they appeared to be the only
ones who'd made it all the way to the cemetery.
Tyler opened the trunk and pulled out a six-pack. "All the more for us." He offered a beer to Elena, who
shook her head, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt all wrong being
here—but there was no way she was going to admit that now.
They climbed the flagstone path, the girls staggering in their high heels and leaning on the boys. When
they reached the top, Elena gasped and Vickie gave a little scream.
Something huge and red was hovering just above the horizon. It took Elena a moment to realize it was
actually the moon. It was as large and unrealistic as a prop in a science-fiction movie, and its bloated
mass glowed dully with an unwholesome light.
"Like a big rotten pumpkin," said Tyler, and lobbed a stone at it. Elena made herself smile brilliantly up at
him.
"Why don't we go inside?" Vickie said, pointing a white hand at the empty hole of the church doorway.
Most of the roof had fallen in, although the belfry was still intact, a tower stretching up high above them.
Three of the walls were standing; the fourth was only knee-high. There were piles of rubble everywhere.
A light flared by Elena's cheek, and she turned, startled, to see Tyler holding a lighter. He grinned,
showing strong white teeth, and said, "Want to flick my Bic?"Elena's laughter was the loudest, to cover her uneasiness. She took the lighter, using it to illuminate the
tomb in the side of the church. It was like no other tomb in the cemetery, although her father said he'd
seen similar things in England. It looked like a large stone box, big enough for two people, with two
marble statues lying in repose on the lid.
"Thomas Keeping Fell and Honoria Fell," said Tyler with a grand gesture, as if introducing them. "Old
Thomas allegedly founded Fell's Church. Although actually the Smallwoods were also there at the time.
My great-grandfather's great-great-grandfather lived in the valley by Drowning Creek—"
"—until he got eaten by wolves," said Dick, and he threw back his head in a wolf imitation. Then he
belched. Vickie giggled. Annoyance crossed Tyler's handsome features, but he forced a smile.
"Thomas and Honoria are looking kind of pale," said Vickie, still giggling. "I think what they need is a
little color." She produced a lipstick from her purse and began to coat the white marble mouth of the
woman's statue with waxy scarlet. Elena felt another sick twinge. As a child, she'd always been awed by
the pale lady and the grave man who lay with their eyes closed, hands folded on their breasts. And, after
her parents died, she'd thought of them as lying side by side like this down in the cemetery. But she held
the lighter while the other girl put a lipstick mustache and clown's nose on Thomas Fell.
Tyler was watching them. "Hey, they're all dressed up with no place to go." He put his hands on the
edge of the stone lid and leaned on it, trying to shift it sideways. "What do you say, Dick—want to give
them a night out on the town? Like maybe right in the center of town?"
No, thought Elena, appalled, as Dick guffawed and Vickie shrieked with laughter. But Dick was already
beside Tyler, getting braced and ready, the heels of his hands on the stone lid.
"On three," said Tyler, and counted, "One, two,three ."
Elena's eyes were fixed on the horrible clown-like face of Thomas Fell as the boys strained forward and
grunted, muscles bunching under cloth. They couldn't budge the lid an inch.
"Damn thing must be attached somehow," said Tyler angrily, turning away.
Elena felt weak with relief. Trying to seem casual, she leaned against the stone lid of the tomb for
support—and that was when it happened.
She heard the grinding of stone and felt the lid shift under her left hand all at once. It was moving away
from her, making her lose her balance. The lighter went flying, and she screamed and screamed again,
trying to keep her feet. She was falling into the open tomb, and an icy wind roared all around her.
Screams rang in her ears.
And then she was outside and the moonlight was bright enough that she could see the others. Tyler had
hold of her. She stared around her wildly.
"Are you crazy? What happened?" Tyler was shaking her.
"It moved! The lid moved! It slid open and—I don't know—I almost fell in. It was cold…"
The boys were laughing. "Poor baby's got the jitters," Tyler said. "C'mon, Dicky-boy, we'll check it out."
"Tyler, no—"But they went inside anyway. Vickie hung in the doorway, watching, while Elena shivered. Presently,
Tyler beckoned her from the door.
"Look," he said when she reluctantly stepped back inside. He'd retrieved the lighter, and he held it above
Thomas Fell's marble chest. "It still fits, snug as a bug in a rug. See?"
Elena stared down at the perfect alignment of lid and tomb. "It did move. I nearly fell into it…"
"Sure, whatever you say, baby." Tyler wound his arms around her, clasping her to him backwards. She
looked over to see Dick and Vickie in much the same position, except that Vickie, eyes shut, was
looking as if she enjoyed it. Tyler rubbed a strong chin over her hair.
"I'd like to go back to the dance now," she said flatly.
There was a pause in the rubbing. Then Tyler sighed and said, "Sure, baby." He looked at Dick and
Vickie. "What about you two?"
Dick grinned. "We'll just stay here a while." Vickie giggled, her eyes still shut.
"Okay." Elena wondered how they were going to get back, but she allowed Tyler to lead her out. Once
outside, however, he paused.
"I can't let you go without one look at my grandfather's headstone," he said. "Aw, c'mon, Elena," he said
as she started to protest, "don't hurt my feelings. You've got to see it; it's the family pride and joy."
Elena made herself smile, although her stomach felt like ice. Maybe if she humored him, he would get her
out of here. "All right," she said, and started toward the cemetery.
"Not that way. This way." And the next moment, he was leading her down toward the old graveyard.
"It's okay, honest, it's not far off the path. Look, there, you see?" He pointed to something that shone in
the moonlight.
Elena gasped, muscles tightening around her heart. It looked like a person standing there, a giant with a
round hairless head. And she didn't like being here at all, among the worn and leaning granite stones of
centuries past. The bright moonlight cast strange shadows, and there were pools of impenetrable
darkness everywhere.
"It's just the ball on top. Nothing to be scared of," said Tyler, pulling her with him off the path and up to
the shining headstone. It was made of red marble, and the huge ball that surmounted it reminded her of
the bloated moon on the horizon. Now that same moon shone down on them, as white as Thomas Fell's
white hands. Elena couldn't contain her shivering.
"Poor baby, she's cold. Got to get her warned up," said Tyler. Elena tried to push him away, but he was
too strong, wrapping her in his arms, pulling her against him.
"Tyler, I want to go; I want to go rightnow . …"
"Sure, baby, we'll go," he said. "But we've got to get you warm first. Gosh, you're cold."
"Tyler, stop," she said. His arms around her had merely been annoying, restricting, but now with a sense
of shock she felt his hands on her body, groping for bare skin.Never in her life had Elena been in a situation like this, far away from any help. She aimed a spiked heel
for his patent-leather instep, but he evaded her. "Tyler,take your hands off me ."
"C'mon, Elena, don't be like that, I just want to warm you up all over…"
"Tyler, let go," she choked out. She tried to wrench herself away from him. Tyler stumbled, and then his
full weight was on her, crushing her into the tangle of ivy and weeds on the ground. Elena spoke
desperately. "I'll kill you, Tyler. I mean it.Get off me ."
Tyler tried to roll off, giggling suddenly, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, almost useless. "Aw, c'mon,
Elena, don' be mad. I was jus' warmin' you up. Elena the Ice Princess, warmin' up… You're gettin' warm
now, aren' you?" Then Elena felt his mouth hot andwet on her face. She was still pinned beneath him, and
his sloppy kisses were moving down her throat. She heard cloth tear.
"Oops," Tyler mumbled. "Sorry 'bout that."
Elena twisted her head, and her mouth met Tyler's hand, clumsily caressing her cheek. She bit it, sinking
her teeth into the fleshy palm. She bithard , tasting blood, hearing Tyler's agonized yowl. The hand
jerked away.
"Hey! I said I was sorry!" Tyler looked aggrievedly at his maimed hand. Then his face darkened, as, still
staring at it, he clenched the hand into a fist.
This is it, Elena thought with nightmare calmness. He's either going to knock me out or kill me. She
braced herself for the blow.
Stefan had resisted coming into the cemetery; everything within him had cried out against it. The last time
he'd been here had been the night of the old man.
Horror shifted through his gut again at the memory. He would have sworn that he had not drained the
man under the bridge, that he had not taken enough blood to do harm. But everything that night after the
surge of Power was muddled, confused. If therehad been a surge of Power at all. Perhaps that had been
his own imagination, or even his own doing. Strange things could happen when the need got out of
control.
He shut his eyes. When he'd heard that the old man was hospitalized, near death, his shock had been
beyond words. Howcould he have let himself get so far out of hand? To kill, almost, when he had not
killed since…
He wouldn't let himself think about that.
Now, standing in front of the cemetery gate in the midnight darkness, he wanted nothing so much as to
turn around and go away. Go back to the dance where he'd left Caroline, that supple, sun-bronzed
creature who was absolutely safe because she meant absolutely nothing to him.
But he couldn't go back, because Elena was in the cemetery. He could sense her, and sense her rising
distress. Elena was in the cemetery and in trouble, and he had to find her.He was halfway up the hill when the dizziness hit. It sent him reeling, struggling on toward the church
because it was the only thing he could keep in focus. Gray waves of fog swept through his brain, and he
fought to keep moving. Weak, he felt so weak. And helpless against the sheer power of this vertigo.
He needed… to go to Elena. But he was weak. He couldn't be… weak… if he were to help Elena. He
needed… to…
The church door yawned before him.
Elena saw the moon over Tyler's left shoulder. It was strangely fitting that it would be the last thing she
ever saw, she thought. The scream had caught in her throat, choked off by fear.
And then something picked Tyler up and threw him against his grandfather's headstone.
That was what it looked like to Elena. She rolled to the side, gasping, one hand clutching her torn dress,
the other groping for a weapon.
She didn't need one. Something moved in the darkness, and she saw the person who had plucked Tyler
off her. Stefan Salvatore. But it was a Stefan she had never seen before: that fine-featured face was white
and cold with fury, and there was a killing light in those green eyes. Without even moving, Stefan
emanated such anger and menace that Elena found herself more frightened of him than she had been of
Tyler.
"When I first met you, I knew you'd never learned any manners," said Stefan. His voice was soft and
cold and light, and somehow it made Elena dizzy. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he moved toward
Tyler, who was shaking his head dazedly and starting to get up. Stefan moved like a dancer, every
movement easy and precisely controlled. "But I had no idea that your character was quite so
underdeveloped."
He hit Tyler. The larger boy had been reaching out one beefy hand, and Stefan hit him almost negligently
on the side of the face, before the hand made contact.
Tyler flew against another headstone. He scrambled up and stood panting, his eyes showing white. Elena
saw a trickle of blood from his nose. Then he charged.
"Agentleman doesn't force his company on anyone," said Stefan, and knocked him aside. Tyler went
sprawling again, facedown in the weeds and briars. This time he was slower in getting up, and blood
flowed from both nostrils and from his mouth. He was blowing like a frightened horse as he threw himself
at Stefan.
Stefan grabbed the front of Tyler's jacket, whirling them both around and absorbing the impact of the
murderous rush. He shook Tyler twice, hard, while those big beefy fists windmilled around him, unable to
connect. Then he let Tyler drop.
"He doesn't insult a woman," he said. Tyler's face was contorted, his eyes rolling, but he grabbed for
Stefan's leg. Stefan jerked him to his feet and shook him again, and Tyler went limp as a rag doll, his eyes
rolling up. Stefan went on speaking, holding the heavy body upright and punctuating every word with a
bone-wrenching shake. "And, above all, he doesnot hurt her…""Stefan!" Elena cried. Tyler's head was snapping back and forth with every shake. She was frightened of
what she was seeing; frightened of what Stefan might do. And frightened above all else of Stefan's voice,
that cold voice that was like a rapier dancing, beautiful and deadly and utterly merciless. "Stefan,stop ."
His head jerked toward her, startled, as if he had forgotten her presence. For a moment he looked at
her without recognition, his eyes black in the moonlight, and she thought of some predator, some great
bird or sleek carnivore incapable of human emotion. Then understanding came to his face and some of
the darkness faded from his gaze.
He looked down at Tyler's lolling head, then set him gently against the red marble tombstone. Tyler's
knees buckled and he slid down the face of it, but to Elena's relief his eyes opened—or at least the left
one did. The right was swelling to a slit.
"He'll be all right," said Stefan emptily.
As her fear ebbed, Elena felt empty herself. Shock, she thought. I'm in shock. I'll probably start
screaming hysterically any minute now.
"Is there someone to take you home?" said Stefan, still in that chillingly deadened voice.
Elena thought of Dick and Vickie, doing God knew what beside Thomas Fell's statue. "No," she said.
Her mind was beginning to work again, to take notice of things around her. The violet dress was ripped
all the way down the front; it was ruined. Mechanically, she pulled it together over her slip.
"I'll drive you," said Stefan.
Even through the numbness, Elena felt a quick thrill of fear. She looked at him, a strangely elegant figure
among the tombstones, his face pale in the moonlight. He had never looked so… sobeautiful to her
before, but that beauty was almost alien. Not just foreign, but inhuman, because no human could project
that aura of power, or of distance.
"Thank you. That would be very kind," she said slowly. There was nothing else to do.
They left Tyler painfully getting to his feet by his ancestor's headstone. Elena felt another chill as they
reached the path and Stefan turned toward Wickery Bridge.
"I left my car at the boarding house," he said. "This is the fastest way for us to get back."
"Is this the way you came?"
"No. I didn't cross the bridge. But it'll be safe."
Elena believed him. Pale and silent, he walked beside her without touching, except when he took off his
blazer to put it around her bare shoulders. She felt oddly sure he would kill anything that tried to get at
her.
Wickery Bridge was white in the moonlight, and under it the icy waters swirled over ancient rocks. The
whole world was still and beautiful and cold as they walked through the oak trees to the narrow country
road.
They passed fenced pastures and dark fields until they reached a long winding drive. The boarding houswas a vast building of rust-red brick made from the native clay, and it was flanked with age-old cedars
and maples. All but one of the windows were dark.
Stefan unlocked one of the double doors and they stepped into a small hallway, with a flight of stairs
directly in front of them. The banister, like the doors, was natural light oak so polished that it seemed to
glow.
They went up the stairs to a second-story landing that was poorly lit. To Elena's surprise,
Stefan led her into one of the bedrooms and opened what looked like a closet door. Through it she
could see a very steep, very narrow stairway.
What a strange place, she thought. This hidden stairway buried deep in the heart of the house, where no
sound from outside could penetrate. She reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into a large room
that made up the whole third story of the house.
It was almost as dimly lit as the stairway, but Elena could see the stained wood floor and the exposed
beams in the slanting ceiling. There were tall windows on all sides, and many trunks scattered among a
few pieces of massive furniture.
She realized he was watching her. "Is there a bathroom where I—?"
He nodded toward a door. She took off the blazer, held it toward him without looking at him, and went
inside.Elena had gone into the bathroom dazed and numbly grateful. She came out angry.
She wasn't quite sure how the transformation had taken place. But sometime while she was washing the
scratches on her face and arms, annoyed at the lack of a mirror and at the fact she'd left her purse in
Tyler's convertible, she startedfeeling again. And what she felt was anger.
Damn Stefan Salvatore. So cold and controlled even while saving her life. Damn him for his politeness,
and for his gallantry, and for the walls around him that seemed thicker and higher than ever.
She pulled the remaining bobby pins out of her hair and used them to fasten the front of her dress
together. Then she ran through her loosened hair quickly with an engraved bone comb she found by the
sink. She came out of the bathroom with her chin held high and her eyes narrowed.
He hadn't put his coat back on. He was standing by the window in his white sweater with bowed head,
tense, waiting. Without lifting his head, he gestured to a length of dark velvet laid over the back of a chair.
"You might want to put that on over your dress."
It was a full-length cloak, very rich and soft, with a hood. Elena pulled the heavy material around hershoulders. But she was not mollified by the gift; she noticed that Stefan hadn't come any closer to her, or
even looked at her while speaking.
Deliberately, she invaded his territorial space, pulling the cloak more tightly about her and feeling, even at
that moment, a sensual appreciation of the way the folds fell about her, trailing behind her on the floor.
She walked up to him and made an examination of the heavy mahogany dresser by the window.
On it lay a wicked-looking dagger with an ivory hilt and a beautiful agate cup mounted in silver. There
were also a golden sphere with some sort of dial set into it and several loose gold coins.
She picked up one of the coins, partly because it was interesting and partly because she knew it would
upset him to see her handling his things. "What's this?"
It was a moment before he answered. Then he said:
"A gold florin. A Florentine coin."
"And what's this?"
"A German pendant watch. Late fifteenth century," he said distractedly. He added, "Elena—"
She reached for a small iron coffer with a hinged lid. "What about this? Does it open?"
"No." He had the reflexes of a cat; his hand slapped over the coffer, holding the lid down. "That's
private," he said, the strain obvious in his voice.
She noticed that his hand made contact only with the curving iron lid and not with her flesh. She lifted her
fingers, and he drew back at once.
Suddenly, her anger was too great to hold in any longer. "Careful," she said savagely. "Don't touch me,
or you might get a disease."
He turned away toward the window.
And yet even as she moved away herself, walking back to the center of the room, she could sense his
watching her reflection. And she knew, suddenly, what she must look like to him, pale hair spilling over
the blackness of the cape, one white hand holding the velvet closed at her throat. A ravaged princess
pacing in her tower.
She tilted her head far back to look at the trapdoor in the ceiling, and heard a soft, distinct intake of
breath. When she turned, his gaze was fixed on her exposed throat; the look in his eyes confused her.
But the next moment his face hardened, closing her out.
"I think," he said, "that I had better get you home."
In that instant, she wanted to hurt him, to make him feel as bad as he'd made her feel. But she also
wanted the truth. She was tired of this game, tired of scheming and plotting and trying to read Stefan
Salvatore's mind. It was terrifying and yet a wonderful relief to hear her own voice saying the words she'd
been thinking so long.
"Why do you hate me?"He stared at her. For a moment he couldn't seem to find words. Then he said, "I don't hate you."
"You do," said Elena. "I know it's not… not good manners to say it, but I don't care. I know I should be
grateful to you for saving me tonight, but I don't care about that, either. I didn't ask you to save me. I
don't know why you were even in the graveyard in the first place. And I certainly don't understand why
you did it, considering the way you feel about me."
He was shaking his head, but his voice was soft. "I don't hate you."
"From the very beginning, you've avoided me as if I were… were some kind of leper. I tried to be
friendly to you, and you threw it back in my face. Is that what agentleman does when someone tries to
welcome him?"
He was trying to say something now, but she swept on, heedless. "You've snubbed me in public time
after time; you've humiliated me at school. You wouldn't be speaking to me now if it hadn't been a matter
of life or death. Is that what it takes to get a word out of you? Does someone have to nearly be
murdered?
"And even now," she continued bitterly, "you don't want me to get anywhere near you. What's the matter
with you, Stefan Salvatore, that you have to live this way? That you have to build walls against other
people to keep them out? That you can't trust anyone?What's wrong with you ?"
He was silent now, his face averted. She took adeep breath and then straightened her shoulders,
holding her head up even though her eyes were sore and burning. "And what's wrong withme ," she
added, more quietly, "that you can't even look at me, but you can let Caroline Forbes fall all over you? I
have a right to know that, at least. I won't ever bother you again, I won't even talk to you at school, but I
want to know the truth before I go. Why do you hate me so much, Stefan?"
Slowly, he turned and raised his head. His eyes were bleak, sightless, and something twisted in Elena at
the pain she saw on his face.
His voice was still controlled—but barely. She could hear the effort it cost him to keep it steady.
"Yes," he said, "I think you do have a right to know. Elena." He looked at her then, meeting her eyes
directly, and she thought, That bad? What could be as bad as that? "I don't hate you," he continued,
pronouncing each word carefully, distinctly. "I've never hated you. But you… remind me of someone."
Elena was taken aback. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this. "I remind you of someone else you
know?"
"Of someone I knew," he said quietly. "But," he added slowly, as if puzzling something out for himself,
"you're not like her, really. She looked like you, but she was fragile, delicate. Vulnerable. Inside as well
as out."
"And I'm not."
He made a sound that would have been a laugh if there had been any humor in it. "No. You're a fighter.
You are… yourself."
Elena was silent for a moment. She could not keep hold of her anger, seeing the pain on his face. "Youwere very close to her?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
There was a long pause, so long that Elena thought he wasn't going to answer her. But at last he said,
"She died."
Elena let out a tremulous breath. The last of her anger folded up and disappeared from under her. "That
must have hurt terribly," she said softly, thinking of the white Gilbert headstone among the rye grass. "I'm
so sorry."
He said nothing. His face had closed again, and he seemed to be looking far away at something,
something terrible and heartbreaking that only he could see. But there was not just grief in his expression.
Through the walls, through all his trembling control, she could see the tortured look of unbearable guilt
and loneliness. A look so lost and haunted that she had moved to his side before she knew what she was
doing.
"Stefan," she whispered. He didn't seem to hear her; he seemed to be adrift in his own world of misery.
She could not stop herself from laying a hand on his arm. "Stefan, I know how it can hurt—"
"Youcan't know," he exploded, all his quietness erupting into white rage. He looked down at her hand
as if just realizing it was there, as if infuriated at her effrontery in touching him. His green eyes were
dilated and dark as he shook her hand off, flinging a hand up to bar her from touching him again—
—and somehow, instead, he was holding her hand, his fingers tightly interlocked with hers, hanging on
for dear life. He looked down at their locked hands in bewilderment. Then, slowly, his gaze moved from
their clasping fingers to her face.
"Elena…" he whispered.
And then she saw it, the anguish shattering his gaze, as if he simply couldn't fight any longer. The defeat
as the walls finally crumbled and she saw what was underneath.
And then, helplessly, he bent his head down to her lips.
"Wait—stop here," said Bonnie. "I thought I saw something."
Matt's battered Ford slowed, edging toward the side of the road, where brambles and bushes grew
thickly. Something white glimmered there, coming toward them.
"Oh, my God," said Meredith. "It's Vickie Bennett."
The girl stumbled into the path of the headlights and stood there, wavering, as Matt hit the brakes. Her
light-brown hair was tangled and in disarray, and her eyes stared glassily out of a face that was smudged
and grimy with dirt. She was wearing only a thin white slip."Get her in the car," said Matt. Meredith was already opening the car door. She jumped out and ran up
to the dazed girl.
"Vickie, are you all right? What happened to you?"
Vickie moaned, still looking straight ahead. Then she suddenly seemed to see Meredith, and she
clutched at her, digging her nails into Meredith's arms.
"Get out of here," she said, her eyes filled with desperate intensity, her voice strange and thick, as if she
had something in her mouth. "All of you—get out of here! It's coming."
"What's coming? Vickie, where is Elena?"
"Get outnow . …"
Meredith looked down the road, then led the shaking girl back to the car. "We'll take you away," she
said, "but you have to tell us what's happened. Bonnie, give me your wrap. She's freezing."
"She's been hurt," said Matt grimly. "And she's in shock or something. The question is, where are the
others? Vickie, was Elena with you?"
Vickie sobbed, putting her hands over her face as Meredith settled Bonnie's iridescent pink wrap around
her shoulders. "No… Dick," she said indistinctly. It seemed to hurt her to speak. "We were in the
church… it was horrible. It came… like mist all around. Dark mist. And eyes. I saw its eyes in the dark
there, burning. They burnt me…"
"She's delirious," said Bonnie. "Or hysterical, or whatever you call it."
Matt spoke slowly and clearly. "Vickie, please, just tell us one thing. Where is Elena? What happened to
her?"
"I don'tknow ." Vickie lifted a tear-stained face to the sky. "Dick and I—we were alone. We were…
and then suddenly it was all around us. I couldn't run. Elena said the tomb had opened. Maybe that was
where it came from. It was horrible…"
"They were in the cemetery, in the ruined church," Meredith interpreted. "And Elena was with them. And
look at this." In the overhead light, they could all see the deep fresh scratches running down Vickie's neck
to the lace bodice of her slip.
"They look like animal marks," said Bonnie. "Like the marks of cat's claws, maybe."
"No cat got that old man under the bridge," said Matt. His face was pale, and muscles stood out in his
jaw. Meredith followed his gaze down the road and then shook her head.
"Matt, we have to take her back first. Wehave to," she said. "Listen to me, I'm as worried about Elena
as you are. But Vickie needs a doctor, and we need to call the police. We don't have any choice. We
have to go back."
Matt stared down the road for another long moment, then let out his breath in a hiss. Slamming the door
shut, he put the car into gear and turned it around, each motion violent.All the way back to town, Vickie moaned about the eyes.
Elena felt Stefan's lips meet hers.
And… it was as simple as that. All questions answered, all fears put to rest, all doubts removed. What
she felt was not merely passion, but a bruising tenderness and a love so strong it made her shake inside.
It would have been frightening in its intensity, except that while she was with him, she could not be afraid
of anything.
She had come home.
This was where she belonged, and she had found it at last. With Stefan, she was home.
He pulled back slightly, and she could feel that he was trembling.
"Oh, Elena," he whispered against her lips. We can't—
"We already have," she whispered, and drew him back down again.
It was almost as if she could hear his thoughts, could feel his feelings. Pleasure and desire raced between
them, connecting them, drawing them closer. And Elena sensed, too, a wellspring of deeper emotions
within him. He wanted to hold her forever, to protect her from all harm. He wanted to defend her from
any evil that threatened her. He wanted to join his life with hers.
She felt the tender pressure of his lips on hers, and she could hardly bear the sweetness of it.Yes , she
thought. Sensation rippled through her like waves on a still, clear pond. She was drowning in it, both the
joy she sensed in Stefan and the delicious answering surge in herself. Stefan's love bathed her, shone
through her, lighting every dark place in her soul like the sun. She trembled with pleasure, with love, and
with longing.
He drew back slowly, as if he could not bear to part from her, and they looked into each other's eyes
with wondering joy.
They did not speak. There was no need for words. He stroked her hair, with a touch so light that she
could scarcely feel it, as if he was afraid she might break in his hands. She knew, then, that it had not
been hatred that had made him avoid her for so long. No, it had not been hatred at all.
Elena had no idea how much later it was that they quietly went down the stairs of the boarding house. At
any other time, she would have been thrilled to get into Stefan's sleek black car, but tonight she scarcely
noticed it. He held her hand as they drove through the deserted streets.
The first thing Elena saw as they approached her house was the lights.
"It's the police," she said, finding her voice with some difficulty. It was odd to talk after being silent so
long. "And that's Robert's car in the driveway, and there's Matt's," she said. She looked at Stefan, and
the peace that had filled her suddenly seemed fragile. "I wonder what happened. You don't suppose
Tyler's already told them… ?""Even Tyler wouldn't be that stupid," said Stefan.
He pulled up behind one of the police cars, and reluctantly Elena unclasped her hand from his. She
wished with all her heart that she and Stefan could just be alone together, that they would never need to
face the world.
But there was no help for it. They walked up the pathway to the door, which was open. Inside, the
house was a blaze of lights.
Entering, Elena saw what seemed like dozens of faces turned toward her. She had a sudden vision of
what she must look like, standing there in the doorway in the sweeping black velvet cloak, with Stefan
Salvatore at her side. And then Aunt Judith gave a cry and was holding her in her arms, shaking her and
hugging her all at once.
"Elena! Oh, thank God you're safe. But where have you been? And why didn't you call? Do you realize
what you've put everyone through?"
Elena stared around the room in bewilderment. She didn't understand a thing.
"We're just glad to see you back," said Robert.
"I've been at the boarding house, with Stefan," she said slowly. "Aunt Judith, this is Stefan Salvatore; he
rents a room there. He brought me back."
"Thank you," said Aunt Judith to Stefan over Elena's head. Then, pulling back to look at Elena, she said,
"But your dress, your hair—what happened?"
"You don't know? Then Tyler didn't tell you. But then why are the police here?" Elena edged toward
Stefan instinctively, and she felt him move closer to her in protection.
"They're here because Vickie Bennett was attacked in the cemetery tonight," said Matt. He and Bonnie
and Meredith were standing behind Aunt Judith and Robert, looking relieved and a little awkward and
more than a little tired. "We found her maybe two, three hours ago, and we've been looking for you ever
since."
"Attacked?" said Elena, stunned. "Attacked by what?"
"Nobody knows," said Meredith.
"Well, now, it may be nothing to worry about," said Robert comfortingly. "The doctor said she'd had a
bad scare, and that she'd been drinking. The whole thing may have been in her imagination."
"Those scratches weren't imaginary," said Matt, polite but stubborn.
"What scratches? What are you talking about?" Elena demanded, looking from one face to another.
"I'll tell you," said Meredith, and she explained, succinctly, how she and the others had found Vickie.
"She kept saying she didn't know where you were, that she was alone with Dick when it happened. And
when we got her back here, the doctor said he couldn't find anything conclusive. She wasn't really hurt
except for the scratches, and they could have been from a cat.""There were no other marks on her?" said Stefan sharply. It was the first time he'd spoken since entering
the house, and Elena looked at him, surprised by his tone.
"No," said Meredith. "Of course, a cat didn't tear her clothes off—but Dick might have. Oh, and her
tongue was bitten."
"What?" said Elena.
"Badly bitten, I mean. It must have bled a lot, and it hurts her to talk now."
Beside Elena, Stefan had gone very still. "Did she have any explanation for what happened?"
"She was hysterical," Matt said. "Really hysterical; she wasn't making any sense. She kept babbling
about eyes and dark mist and not being able to run—which is why the doctor thinks maybe it was some
sort of hallucination. But as far as anyone can make out, the facts are that she and Dick Carter were in
the ruined church by the cemetery at about midnight, and that something came in and attacked her there."
Bonnie added, "It didn't attack Dick, which at least shows it had, some taste. The police found him
passed out on the church floor, and he doesn't remember a thing."
But Elena scarcely heard the last words. Something had gone terribly wrong with Stefan. She couldn't
tell how she knew it, but she knew. He had stiffened as Matt finished speaking, and now, though he
hadn't moved, she felt as if a great distance was separating them, as if she and he were on opposite sides
of a rifting, cracking floe of ice.
He said, in the terribly controlled voice she had heard before in his room, "In the church, Matt?"
"Yes, in the ruined church," Matt said.
"And you're sure she said it was midnight?"
"She couldn't be positive, but it must have been sometime around then. We found her not long after.
Why?"
Stefan said nothing. Elena could feel the gulf between them widening. "Stefan," she whispered. Then,
aloud, she said desperately, "Stefan, what is it?"
He shook his head. Don't shut me out, she thought, but he wouldn't even look at her. "Will she live?" he
asked abruptly.
"The doctor said there was nothing much wrong with her," Matt said. "Nobody's even suggested she
might die."
Stefan's nod was abrupt; then he turned to Elena. "I've got to go," he said. "You're safe now."
She caught his hand as he turned away. "Of course I'm safe," she said. "Because of you."
"Yes," he said. But there was no response in his eyes. They were shielded, dull.
"Call me tomorrow." She squeezed his hand, trying to convey what she felt under the scrutiny of all thosewatching eyes. She willed him to understand.
He looked down at their hands with no expression at all, then, slowly, back up at her. And then, at last,
he returned the pressure of her fingers. "Yes, Elena," he whispered, his eyes clinging to hers. The next
minute he was gone.
She took a deep breath and turned back to the crowded room. Aunt Judith was still hovering, her gaze
fixed on what could be seen of Elena's torn dress underneath the cloak.
"Elena," she said, "whathappened ?" And her eyes went to the door through which Stefan had just left.
A sort of hysterical laughter surged up in Elena's throat, and she chokedit back. "Stefan didn't do it," she
said. "Stefan saved me." She felt her face harden, and she looked at the police officer behind Aunt Judith.
"It was Tyler, Tyler Smallwood…"