Oh, God… no. Her mind refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. No. No. She wouldn't
look at this, she wouldn't believe it…
But she could not help seeing. Even if she could have shut her eyes, every detail of the scene was etched
upon her memory. As if the flash of lightning had seared it onto her brain forever.
Stefan. Stefan, so sleek and elegant in his ordinary clothes, in his black leather jacket with the collar
turned up. Stefan, with his dark hair like one of the roiling storm clouds behind him. Stefan had been
caught in that flash of light, half turned toward her, his body twisted into a bestial crouch, with a snarl of
animal fury on his face.
And blood. That arrogant, sensitive, sensual mouth was smeared with blood. It showed ghastly red
against the pallor of his skin, against the sharp whiteness of his bared teeth. In his hands was the limp
body of a mourning dove, white as those teeth, wings outspread. Another lay on the ground at his feet,
like a crumpled and discarded handkerchief.
"Oh, God, no," Elena whispered. She went on whispering it, backing away, scarcely aware that she was
doing either. Her mind simply could not cope with this horror; her thoughts were running wildly in panic,
like mice trying to escape a cage. She wouldn't believe this, she wouldn'tbelieve . Her body was filled
with unbearable tension, her heart was bursting, her head reeling.
"Oh, God,no—"
"Elena!" More terrible than anything else was this, to seeStefan looking at her out of that animal face, to
see the snarl changing into a look of shock and desperation. "Elena, please. Please, don't…"
"Oh, God,no !" The screams were trying to rip their way out of her throat. She backed farther away,
stumbling, as he took a step toward her. "No!"
"Elena, please—be careful—" That terrible thing, the thing with Stefan's face, was coming after her,
green eyes burning. She flung herself backward as he took another step, his hand outstretched. That long,
slender-fingered hand that had stroked her hair so gently—
"Don'ttouch me!" she cried. And then she did scream, as her motion brought her back against the iron
railing of the widow's walk. It was iron that had been there for nearly a century and a half, and in places it
was nearly rusted through. Elena's panicked weight against it was too much, and she felt it give way. Sheheard the tearing sound of overstressed metal and wood mingling with her own shriek. And then there
was nothing behind her, nothing to grab on to, and she was falling.
In that instant, she saw the seething purple clouds, the dark bulk of the house beside her. It seemed that
she had enough time to see them clearly, and to feel an infinity of terror as she screamed and fell, and fell.
But the terrible, shattering impact never came. Suddenly there were arms around her, supporting her in
the void. There was a dull thud and the arms tightened, weight giving against her, absorbing the crash.
Then all was still.
She held herself motionless within the circle of those arms, trying to get her bearings. Trying to believe
yet another unbelievable thing. She had fallen from a three-story roof, and yet she was alive. She was
standing in the garden behind the boarding house, in the utter silence between claps of thunder, with fallen
leaves on the ground where her broken body should be.
Slowly, she brought her gaze upward to the face of the one who held her. Stefan.
There had been too much fear, too many blows tonight. She could react no longer. She could only stare
up at him with a kind of wonder.
There was such sadness in his eyes. Those eyes that had burned like green ice were now dark and
empty, hopeless. The same look that she'd seen that first night in his room, only now it was worse. For
now there was self-hatred mixed with the sorrow, and bitter condemnation. She couldn't bear it.
"Stefan," she whispered, feeling that sadness enter her own soul. She could still see the tinge of red on
his lips, but now it awakened a thrill of pity along with the instinctive horror. To be so alone, so alien and
so alone…
"Oh, Stefan," she whispered.
There was no answer in those bleak, lost eyes. "Come," he said quietly, and led her back toward the
house.
Stefan felt a rush of shame as they reached the third story and the destruction that was his room. That
Elena, of all people, should see this was insupportable. But then, perhaps it was also fitting that she
should see what he truly was, what he could do.
She moved slowly, dazedly to the bed and sat. Then she looked up at him, her shadowed eyes meeting
his. "Tell me," was all she said.
He laughed shortly, without humor, and saw her flinch. It made him hate himself more. "What do you
need to know?" he said. He put a foot on the lid of an overturned trunk and faced her almost defiantly,
indicating the room with a gesture. "Who did this? I did."
"You're strong," she said, her eyes on a capsized trunk. Her gaze lifted upward, as if she were
remembering what had happened on the roof. "And quick."
"Stronger than a human," he said, with deliberate emphasis on the last word. Why didn't she cringe fromthought any longer. "My reflexes are faster, and I'm more resilient. I have to be. I'm a hunter," he said
harshly.
Something in her look made him remember how she had interrupted him. He wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand, then went quickly to pick up a glass of water that stood unharmed on the nightstand.
He could feel her eyes on him as he drank it and wiped his mouth again. Oh, he still cared what she
thought, all right.
"You can eat and drink… other things," she said.
"I don't need to," he said quietly, feeling weary and subdued. "I don't need anything else." He whipped
around suddenly and felt passionate intensity rise in him again. "You said I was quick—but that's just
what I'm not. Have you ever heard the saying 'the quick and the dead,' Elena? Quick means living; it
means those who have life. I'm the other half."
He could see that she was trembling. But her voice was calm, and her eyes never left his. "Tell me," she
said again. "Stefan, I have a right to know."
He recognized those words. And they were as true as when she had first said them. "Yes, I suppose you
do," he said, and his voice was tired and hard. He stared at the broken window for a few heartbeats and
then looked back at her and spoke flatly. "I was born in the late fifteenth century. Do you believe that?"
She looked at the objects that lay where he'd scattered them from the bureau with one furious sweep of
his arm. The florins, the agate cup, his dagger. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I believe it."
"And you want to know more? How I came to be what I am?" When she nodded, he turned to the
window again. How could he tell her? He, who had avoided questions for so long, who had become
such an expert at hiding and deceiving.
There was only one way, and that was to tell the absolute truth, concealing nothing. To lay it all before
her, what he had never offered to any other soul.
And he wanted to do it. Even though he knew it would make her turn away from him in the end, he
needed to show Elena what he was.
And so, staring into the darkness outside the window, where flashes of blue brilliance occasionally lit the
sky, he began.
He spoke dispassionately, without emotion, carefully choosing his words. He told her of his father, that
solid Renaissance man, and of his world in Florence and at their country estate. He told her of his studies
and his ambitions. Of his brother, who was so different than he, and of the ill feeling between them.
"I don't know when Damon started hating me," he said. "It was always that way, as long as I can
remember. Maybe it was because my mother never really recovered from my birth. She died a few years
later. Damon loved her very much, and I always had the feeling that he blamed me." He paused and
swallowed. "And then, later, there was a girl."
"The one I remind you of?" Elena said softly. He nodded. "The one," she said, more hesitantly, "who
gave you the ring?"
He glanced down at the silver ring on his finger, then met her eyes. Then, slowly, he drew out the ring hewore on the chain beneath his shirt and looked at it.
"Yes. This was her ring," he said. "Without such a talisman, we die in sunlight as if in a fire."
"Then she was… like you?"
"She made me what I am." Haltingly, he told her about Katherine. About Katherine's beauty and
sweetness, and about his love for her. And about Damon's.
"She was too gentle, filled with too much affection," he said at last, painfully. "She gave it to everyone,
including my brother. But finally, we told her she had to choose between us. And then… she came to
me."
The memory of that night, of that sweet, terrible night came sweeping back. She had come to him. And
he had been so happy, so full of awe and joy. He tried to tell Elena about that, to find the words. All that
night he had been so happy, and even the next morning, when he had awakened and she was gone, he
had been throned on highest bliss…
It might almost have been a dream, but the two little wounds on his neck were real. He was surprised to
find that they did not hurt and that they seemed to be partially healed already. They were hidden by the
high neck of his shirt.
Herblood burned in his veins now, he thought, and the very words made his heart race. She had given
her strength to him; she had chosen him. Zuccone! Stefan thought, grabbing a bookcase and flinging it over, sending its contents flying. Fool!
Blind, hateful fool. How could he have been so stupid?
Find a place with them here? Be accepted as one of them? He must have been mad to have thought it
was possible.
He picked up one of the great heavy trunks and threw it across the room, where it crashed against the
far wall, splintering a window. Stupid,stupid .
Who was after him? Everybody. Matt had said it. "There's been another attack… They think you did
it."
Well, for once it looked as if thebarbari , the petty living humans with their fear of anything unknown,
were right. How else did you explain what had happened? He had felt the weakness, the spinning,
swirling confusion; and then darkness had taken him. When he'd awakened it was to hear Matt saying
that another human had been pillaged, assaulted. Robbed this time not only of his blood, but of his life.
How did you explainthat unless he, Stefan, were the killer?
A killer was what he was. Evil. A creature born in the dark, destined to live and hunt and hide there
forever. Well, why not kill, then? Why not fulfill his nature? Since he could not change it, he might as well
revel in it. He would unleash his darkness upon this town that hated him, that hunted him even now.
But first… he was thirsty. His veins burned like a network of dry, hot wires. He needed to feed…
soon… now.
The boarding house was dark. Elena knocked at the door but received no answer. Thunder cracked
overhead. There was still no rain.
After the third barrage of knocking, she tried the door, and it opened. Inside, the house was silent and
pitch black. She made her way to the staircase by feel and went up it.
The second landing was just as dark, and she stumbled, trying to find the bedroom with the stairway to
the third floor. A faint light showed at the top of the stairs, and she climbed toward it, feeling oppressed
by the walls, which seemed to close in on her from either side.
The light came from beneath the closed door. Elena tapped on it lightly and quickly. "Stefan," she
whispered, and then she called more loudly, "Stefan, it's me."
No answer. She grasped the knob and pushed the door open, peering around the side. "Stefan—"
She was speaking to an empty room.
And a room filled with chaos. It looked as if some great wind had torn through, leaving destruction in its
path. The trunks that had stood in corners so sedately were lying at grotesque angles, their lids gaping
open, their contents strewn about the floor. One window was shattered. All Stefan's possessions, all the
things he had kept so carefully and seemed to prize, were scattered like rubbish.
Terror swept through Elena. The fury, the violence in this scene of devastation were painfully clear, and
they made her feel almost giddy. Somebody who has a history of violence, Tyler had said.I don't care, she thought, anger surging up to push back the fear. I don't care about anything, Stefan; I
still want to see you. But where are you?
The trapdoor in the ceiling was open, and cold air was blowing down. Oh, thought Elena, and she had a
sudden chill of fear. That roof was so high…
She'd never climbed the ladder to the widow's walk before, and her long skirt made it difficult. She
emerged through the trapdoor slowly, kneeling on the roof and then standing up. She saw a dark figure in
the corner, and she moved toward it quickly.
"Stefan, I had to come—" she began, and broke off short, because a flash of lightning lit the sky just as
the figure in the corner whirled around. And then it was as if every foreboding and fear and nightmare
she'd ever had were coming true all at once. It was beyond screaming at; it was beyond anything. "You're part of it! You're evil!" she screamed hysterically at Elena. "Keep away from me!"
Elena was dumbfounded. "Vickie! I only came to ask—"
"I think you'd better leave now. Leave us alone," said Mrs. Bennett, clasping her daughter protectively.
"Can't you see what you're doing to her?"
In stunned silence, Elena left the room. Bonnie and Meredith followed.
"It must be drugs," said Bonnie once they were out of the house. "She just went completely nonlinear."
"Did you notice her hands?" Meredith said to Elena. "When we were trying to restrain her, I got hold of
one of her hands. And it was cold as ice."
Elena shook her head in bewilderment. None of it made sense, but shewouldn't let it spoil her day. She
wouldn't. Desperately, she searched her mind for something that would offset the experience, that would
allow her to hold on to her happiness.
"I know," she said. "The boarding house."
"What?"
"I told Stefan to call me today, but why don't we walk over to the boarding house instead? It's not far
from here."
"Only a twenty-minute walk," said Bonnie. She brightened. "At least we can finally see that room of his."
"Actually," said Elena, "I was thinking you two could wait downstairs. Well, I'll only get to see him for a
few minutes," she added, defensively, as they looked at her. It was odd, perhaps, but she didn't want to
share Stefan with her friends just yet. He was so new to her that he felt almost like a secret.
Their knock on the shining oak door was answered by Mrs. Flowers. She was a wrinkled little gnome of
a woman with surprisingly bright black eyes.
"You must be Elena," she said. "I saw you and Stefan go out last night, and he told me your name when
he came back."
"You saw us?" said Elena, startled. "I didn't see you."
"No, no you didn't," said Mrs. Flowers, and chuckled. "What a pretty girl you are, my dear," she added.
"A very pretty girl." She patted Elena's cheek.
"Uh, thank you," said Elena uneasily. She didn't like the way those birdlike eyes were fixed on her. She
looked past Mrs. Flowers to the stairs. "Is Stefan home?"
"He must be, unless he's flown off the roof!" said Mrs. Flowers, and chuckled again. Elena laughed
politely.
"We'll stay down here with Mrs. Flowers," said Meredith to Elena, while Bonnie rolled her eyes in
martyrdom. Hiding a grin, Elena nodded and mounted the stairs.Such a strange old house, she thought again as she located the second stairway in the bedroom. The
voices below were very faint from here, and as she went up the steps they faded entirely. She was
wrapped in silence, and as she reached the dimly lit door at the top, she had the feeling she had entered
some other world. Her knocking sounded very timid. "Stefan?" She could hear nothing from inside, but
suddenly the door swung open.Everyone must look pale and tired today , thought Elena, and then she
was in his arms.
Those arms tightened about her convulsively. "Elena. Oh, Elena…"
Then he drew back. It was just the way it had been last night; Elena could feel the chasm opening
between them. She saw the cold, correct look gather in his eyes.
"No," she said, hardly aware that she spoke aloud. "I won't let you." And she pulled his mouth down to
hers.
For a moment there was no response, and then he shuddered, and the kiss became searing. His fingers
tangled in her hair, and the universe shrank around Elena. Nothing else existed but Stefan, and the feel of
his arms around her, and the fire of his lips on hers.
A few minutes or a few centuries later they separated, both shaking. But their gaze remained connected,
and Elena saw that Stefan's eyes were too dilated for even this dim light; there was only a thin band of
green around the dark pupils. He looked dazed, and his mouth—that mouth!—was swollen.
"I think," he said, and she could hear the control in his voice, "that we had better be careful when we do
that."
Elena nodded, dazed herself. Not in public, she was thinking. And not when Bonnie and Meredith were
waiting downstairs. And not when they were absolutely alone, unless…
"But you can just hold me," she said.
How odd, that after that passion she could feel so safe, so peaceful, in his arms. "I love you," she
whispered into the rough wool of his sweater.
She felt a quiver go through him. "Elena," he said again, and it was a sound almost of despair.
She raised her head. "What's wrong with that? What could possibly be wrong with that, Stefan? Don't
you love me?"
"I…" He looked at her, helplessly—and they heard Mrs. Flowers's voice calling faintly from the bottom
of the stairs.
"Boy! Boy! Stefan!" It sounded as if she were pounding on the banister with her shoe.
Stefan sighed. "I'd better go see what she wants." He slipped away from her, his face unreadable.
Left alone, Elena folded her arms across her chest and shivered. It was so cold here. He ought to have a
fire, she thought, eyes moving idly around the room to rest finally on the mahogany dresser she'd
examined last night.
The coffer.She glanced at the closed door. If he came back in and caught her… She really shouldn't—but she was
already moving toward the dresser.
Think of Bluebeard's wife, she told herself. Curiosity killedher . But her fingers were on the iron lid. Her
heart beating rapidly, she eased the lid open.
In the dim light, the coffer appeared at first to be empty, and Elena gave a nervous laugh. What had she
expected? Love letters from Caroline? A bloody dagger?
Then she saw the thin strip of silk, folded over and over on itself neatly in one corner. She drew it out
and ran it between her fingers. It was the apricot ribbon she'd lost the second day of school.
Oh, Stefan. Tears stung her eyes, and in her chest love welled up helplessly, overflowing.
That long ago? You cared about me that long ago? Oh, Stefan, I love you…
And it doesn't matter if you can't say it to me, she thought. There was a sound outside the door, and she
folded the ribbon quickly and replaced it in the coffer. Then she turned toward the door, blinking tears
from her eyes.
It doesn't matter if you can't say it right now. I'll say it for both of us. And someday you'll learn.October 7, about 8:00 a.m.
Dear Diary,
I'm writing this during trig class, and I just hope Ms. Halpern doesn't see me.
I didn't have time to write last night, even though I wanted to. Yesterday was a crazy, mixed-up
day, just like the night of the Homecoming Dance. Sitting here in school this morning I almost feel
like everything that happened this weekend was a dream. The bad things were so bad, but the
good things were so very, very good.
I'm not going to press criminal charges against Tyler. He's suspended from school, though, and
off the football team. So's Dick, for being drunk at the dance. Nobody is saying so, but I think a
lot of people think he was responsible for what happened to Vickie. Bonnie's sister saw Tyler at
the clinic yesterday, and she said he had two black eyes and his whole face was purple. I can't help
worrying about what's going to happen when he and Dick get back to school. They have more
reason than ever to hate Stefan now.
Which brings me to Stefan. When I woke up this morning I panicked, thinking, "What if it all isn't
true? What if it never happened, or if he's changed his mind?" And Aunt Judith was worried at
breakfast because I couldn't eat again. But then when I got to school I saw him in the corridor bythe office, and we just looked at each other. And I knew. Just before he turned away, he smiled,
sort of wryly. And I understood that, too, and he was right, it was better not to go up to each
other in a public hallway, not unless we want to give the secretaries a thrill.
We are very definitely together. Now I just have to find a way to explain all this to Jean-Claude.
Ha-ha.
What I don't understand is why Stefan isn't as happy about it as I am. When we're with each other
I can feel how he feels, and I know how much he wants me, how much he cares. There's an almost
desperate hunger inside him when he kisses me, as if he wants to pull the soul out of my body.
Like a black hole that.
Still October 7, now about 2:00 p.m.
Will, a little break there becauseMiss Halperncaught me. She even started to read what I'd written
out loud, but then I think the subject matter steamed her glasses up and she stopped. She was Not
Amused. I'm too happy to care about minor things like flunking trigonometry.
Stefan and I had lunch together, or at least we went off into a corner of the field and sat down
with my lunch. He didn't even bother to bring anything, and of course as it turned out I couldn't
eat either. We didn't touch each other much—we didn't—but we talked and looked at each other a
lot. I want to touch him. More than any boy I've ever known. And I know he wants it, too, but he's
holding back on me. That's what I can't understand, why he's fighting this, why he's holding back.
Yesterday in his room I found proof positive that he's been watching me from the beginning. You
remember how I told you that on the second day of school Bonnie and Meredith and I were in the
cemetery? Well, yesterday in Stefan's room I found the apricot ribbon I was wearing that day. I
remember it falling out of my hand while I was running, and he must have picked it up and kept it.
I haven't told him I know, because he obviously wants to keep it a secret, but that shows, doesn't
it, that he cares about me?
I'll tell you someone else who is Not Amused. Caroline. Apparently she's been dragging him off
into the photography room for lunch every day, and when he didn't show up today she went
searching until she found us. Poor Stefan, he'd forgotten about her completely, and he was
shocked at himself Once she left—a nasty unhealthy shade of green, I might add—he told me how
she'd attached herself to him the first week of school. She said she'd noticed he didn't really eat at
lunch and she didn't either since she was on a diet, and why didn't they go someplace quiet and
relax? He wouldn't really say anything bad about her (which I think is his idea of manners again,
a gentleman doesn't do that), but he did say there was nothing at all between them. And for
Caroline I think being forgotten was worse than if he'd thrown rocks at her.
I wonder why Stefan hasn't been eating lunch, though. It's strange in a football player.
Uh-oh. Mr. Tanner just walked by and I slammed my note pad over this diary just in time. Bonnie
is snickering behind her history book, I can see her shoulders shaking. And Stefan, who's in front
of me, looks as tense as if he's going to leap out of his chair any minute. Matt is giving me "you
nut" looks and Caroline is glaring. I am being very, very innocent, writing with my eyes fixed on
Tanner up front. So if this is a bit wobbly and messy, you'll understand why.
For the last month, I haven't really been myself. I haven't been able to think clearly orconcentrate on anything but Stefan. There is so much I've left undone that I'm almost scared. I'm
supposed to be in charge of decorations for the Haunted House and I haven't done one thing
about it yet Now I've got exactly three and a half weeks to get it organized—and I want to be with
Stefan.
I could quit the committee. But that would leave Bonnie and Meredith holding the bag. And I
keep remembering what Matt said when I asked him to get Stefan to come to the dance: "You
want everybody and everything revolving around Elena Gilbert."
That isn't true. Or at least, if it has been in the past, I'm not going to let it be true anymore. I
want—oh, this is going to sound completely stupid, but I want to be worthy of Stefan. I know he
wouldn't let the guys on the team down just to suit his own convenience. I want him to be proud of
me.
I want him to love me as much as I love him.
"Hurry up!" called Bonnie from the doorway of the gym. Beside her the high school janitor, Mr. Shelby,
stood waiting.
Elena cast one last glance at the distant figures on the football field, then reluctantly crossed the blacktop
to join Bonnie.
"I just wanted to tell Stefan where I was going," she said. After a week of being with Stefan, she still felt
a thrill of excitement just saying his name. Every night this week he'd come to her house, appearing at the
door around sunset, hands in pockets, wearing his jacket with the collar turned up. They usually took a
walk in the dusk, or sat on the porch, talking. Although nothing was said about it, Elena knew it was
Stefan's way of making sure they weren't alone together in private. Since the night of the dance, he'd
made sure of that. Protecting her honor, Elena thought wryly, and with a pang, because she knew in her
heart that there was more to it than that.
"He can live without you for one evening," said Bonnie callously. "If you get talking to him you'll never
get away, and I'dlike to get home in time for some kind of dinner."
"Hello, Mr. Shelby," said Elena to the janitor, who was still patiently waiting. To her surprise, he closed
one eye in a solemn wink at her. "Where's Meredith?" she added.
"Here," said a voice behind her, and Meredith appeared with a cardboard box of file folders and note
pads in her arms. "I've got the stuff from your locker."
"Is that all of you?" said Mr. Shelby. "All right, now, you gals leave the door shut and locked, you hear?
That way nobody can get in."
Bonnie, about to enter, pulled up short.
"You're sure there's nobodyalready in?" she said warily.
Elena gave her a push between the shoulder blades. "Hurry up," she mimicked unkindly. "I want to get
home in time for dinner.""There's nobody inside," said Mr. Shelby, mouth twitching under his mustache. "But you gals yell if you
want anything. I'll be around."
The door slammed shut behind them with a curiously final sound.
"Work," said Meredith resignedly, and put the box on the floor.
Elena nodded, looking up and down the big empty room. Every year the Student Council held a
Haunted House as a fund-raiser. Elena had been on the decorating committee for the last two years,
along with Bonnie and Meredith, but it was different being chairman. She had to make decisions that
would affect everyone, and she couldn't even rely on what had been done in years past.
The Haunted House was usually set up in a lumberyard warehouse, but with the growing uneasiness
about town it had been decided that the school gym was safer. For Elena, it meant rethinking the whole
interior design, and with less than three weeks now until Halloween.
"It's actually pretty spooky here," said Meredith quietly. And therewas something disturbing about being
in the big closed room, Elena thought. She found herself lowering her voice.
"Let's measure it first," she said. They moved down the room, their footsteps echoing hollowly.
"All right," said Elena when they had finished. "Let's get to work." She tried to shake off her feeling of
uneasiness, telling herself that it was ridiculous to feel unsettled in the school gym, with Bonnie and
Meredith beside her and an entire football team practicing not two hundred yards away.
The three of them sat on the bleachers with pens and notebooks in hand. Elena and Meredith consulted
the design sketches for previous years while Bonnie bit her pen and gazed around thoughtfully.
"Well, here's the gym," said Meredith, making a quick sketch in her notebook. "And here's where the
people are going to have to come in. Now we could have the Bloody Corpse at the very end… By the
way, who's going to be the Bloody Corpse this year?"
"Coach Lyman, I think. He did a good job last year, and he helps keep the football guys in line." Elena
pointed to their sketch. "Okay, we'll partition this off and make it the Medieval Torture Chamber. They'll
go straight out of that and into the Room of the Living Dead…"
"I think we should have druids," said Bonnie abruptly.
"Have what?" said Elena, and then, as Bonnie started to yell "droo-ids," she waved a quelling hand. "All
right, all right, I remember. But why?"
"Because they're the ones who invented Halloween. Really. It started out as one of their holy days, when
they would build fires and put out turnips with faces carved in them to keep evil spirits away. They
believed it was the day when the line between the living and the dead was thinnest. And they were scary,
Elena. They performed human sacrifices. We could sacrifice Coach Lyman."
"Actually, that's not a bad idea," said Meredith. "The Bloody Corpse could be a sacrifice. You know, on
a stone altar, with a knife and pools of blood all around. And then when you get really close, he suddenly
sits up."
"And gives you heart failure," said Elena, but she had to admit itwas a good idea, definitely scary. Itmade her feel a little sick just thinking about it. All that blood… but it was only Karo syrup, really.
The other girls had gone quiet, too. From the boys' locker next door, they could hear the sound of water
running and lockers banging, and over that indistinct voices shouting.
"Practice is over," murmured Bonnie. "It must be dark outside."
"Yes, and Our Hero is getting all washed up," said Meredith, cocking an eyebrow at Elena. "Want to
peek?"
"I wish," said Elena, only half jokingly. Somehow, indefinably, the atmosphere in the room had
darkened. Just at the moment shedid wish she could see Stefan, could be with him.
"Have you heard anything more about Vickie Bennett?" she asked suddenly.
"Well," said Bonnie after a moment, "I did hear that her parents were getting her a psychiatrist."
"A shrink? Why?"
"Well… I guess they think that those things she told us were hallucinations or something. And I heard her
nightmares are pretty bad."
"Oh," said Elena. The sounds from the boys' locker room were fading, and they heard an outside door
slam. Hallucinations, she thought, hallucinations and nightmares. For some reason, she suddenly
remembered that night in the graveyard, that night when Bonnie had sent them all running from something
none of them could see.
"We'd better get back to business," said Meredith. Elena shook herself out of her reverie and nodded.
"We… we could have a graveyard," Bonnie said tentatively, as if she'd been reading Elena's thoughts.
"In the Haunted House, I mean."
"No," said Elena sharply. "No, we'll just stick with what we have," she added in a calmer voice, and bent
over her pad again.
Once again there was no sound but the soft scratching of pens and the rustle of paper.
"Good," said Elena at last. "Now we only need to measure for the different partitions. Somebody's going
to have to get in behind the bleachers… What now?"
The lights in the gym had flickered and gone down to half power.
"Oh,no ," said Meredith, exasperated. The lights flickered again, went out, and returned dimly once
more.
"I can't read a thing," said Elena, staring at what now seemed to be a featureless piece of white paper.
She looked up at Bonnie and Meredith and saw two white blobs of faces.
"Something must be wrong with the emergency generator," said Meredith. "I'll get Mr. Shelby."
"Can't we just finish tomorrow?" Bonnie said plaintively."Tomorrow's Saturday," said Elena. "And we were supposed to have this done last week."
"I'll get Shelby," said Meredith again. "Come on, Bonnie, you're going with me."
Elena began, "We could all go—" but Meredith interrupted.
"If we all go and we can't find him, then we can't get back in. Come on, Bonnie, it's only inside the
school."
"But it'sdark there."
"It's dark everywhere; it's nighttime. Comeon; with two of us it'll be safe." She dragged an unwilling
Bonnie to the door. "Elena, don't let anybody else in."
"As if you had to tell me," said Elena, letting them out and then watching them go a few paces down the
hall. At the point at which they began to merge with the dimness, she stepped back inside and shut the
door.
Well, this was a fine mess, as her mother used to say. Elena moved over to the cardboard box Meredith
had brought and began stacking filing folders and notebooks back inside it. In this light she could see
them only as vague shapes. There was no sound at all but her own breathing and the sounds she made.
She was alone in the huge, dim room—
Someone was watching her.
She didn't know how she knew, but she was sure. Someone was behind her in the dark gymnasium,
watching.Eyes in the dark , the old man had said. Vickie had said it, too. And now there were eyes on
her.
She whirled quickly to face the room, straining her own eyes to see into the shadows, trying not even to
breathe. She was terrified that if she made a sound the thing out there would get her. But she could see
nothing, hear nothing.
The bleachers were dim, menacing shapes stretching out into nothingness. And the far end of the room
was simply a featureless gray fog. Dark mist, she thought, and she could feel every muscle agonizingly
tense as she listened desperately. Oh God, what was that soft whispering sound? It must be her
imagination… Please let it be her imagination.
Suddenly, her mind was clear. She had to get out of this place,now . There was real danger here, not
just fantasy. Something was out there, something evil, something that wanted her. And she was all alone.
Something moved in the shadows.
Her scream froze in her throat. Her muscles were frozen, too, held motionless by her terror—and by
some nameless force. Helplessly, she watched as the shape in the darkness moved out of the shadows
and toward her. It seemed almost as if the darkness itself had come to life and was coalescing as she
watched, taking on form—human form, the form of a young man.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you."The voice was pleasant, with a slight accent she couldn't place. It didn't sound sorry at all.
Relief was so sudden and complete that it was painful. She slumped and heard her own breath sigh out.
It was only a guy, some former student or an assistant of Mr. Shelby's. An ordinary guy, who was
smiling faintly, as if it had amused him to see her almost pass out.
Well… perhaps not quite ordinary. He was remarkably good-looking. His face was pale in the artificial
twilight, but she could see that his features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of dark
hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptor's dream. And he'd been almost invisible because he was wearing
black: soft black boots, black jeans, black sweater, and leather jacket.
He was still smiling faintly. Elena's relief turned to anger.
"How did you get in?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here? Nobody else is supposed to be in
the gym."
"I came in the door," he said. His voice was soft, cultured, but she could still hear the amusement and
she found it disconcerting.
"All the doors are locked," she said flatly, accusingly.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Are they?"
Elena felt another quiver of fear, hairs lifting on the back of her neck. "They were supposed to be," she
said in the coldest voice she could manage.
"You're angry," he said gravely. "I said I was sorry to frighten you."
"I wasn't frightened!" she snapped. She felt foolish in front of him somehow, like a child being humored
by someone much older and more knowledgeable. It made her even angrier. "I was just startled," she
continued. "Which is hardly surprising, what with you lurking in the dark like that."
"Interesting things happen in the dark… sometimes." He was still laughing at her; she could tell by his
eyes. He had taken a step closer, and she could see that those eyes were unusual, almost black, but with
odd lights in them. As if you could look deeper and deeper until you fell into them, and went on falling
forever.
She realized she was staring. Why didn't the lights come on? She wanted to get out of here. She moved
away, putting the end of a bleacher between them, and stacked the last folders into the box. Forget the
rest of the work for tonight. All she wanted to do now was leave.
But the continuing silence made her uneasy. He was just standing there, unmoving, watching her. Why
didn't he say something?
"Did you come looking for somebody?" She was annoyed with herself for being the one to speak.
He was still gazing at her, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more
uncomfortable. She swallowed.
With his eyes on her lips, he murmured, "Oh, yes."concentrate on anything but Stefan. There is so much I've left undone that I'm almost scared. I'm
supposed to be in charge of decorations for the Haunted House and I haven't done one thing
about it yet Now I've got exactly three and a half weeks to get it organized—and I want to be with
Stefan.
I could quit the committee. But that would leave Bonnie and Meredith holding the bag. And I
keep remembering what Matt said when I asked him to get Stefan to come to the dance: "You
want everybody and everything revolving around Elena Gilbert."
That isn't true. Or at least, if it has been in the past, I'm not going to let it be true anymore. I
want—oh, this is going to sound completely stupid, but I want to be worthy of Stefan. I know he
wouldn't let the guys on the team down just to suit his own convenience. I want him to be proud of
me.
I want him to love me as much as I love him.
"Hurry up!" called Bonnie from the doorway of the gym. Beside her the high school janitor, Mr. Shelby,
stood waiting.
Elena cast one last glance at the distant figures on the football field, then reluctantly crossed the blacktop
to join Bonnie.
"I just wanted to tell Stefan where I was going," she said. After a week of being with Stefan, she still felt
a thrill of excitement just saying his name. Every night this week he'd come to her house, appearing at the
door around sunset, hands in pockets, wearing his jacket with the collar turned up. They usually took a
walk in the dusk, or sat on the porch, talking. Although nothing was said about it, Elena knew it was
Stefan's way of making sure they weren't alone together in private. Since the night of the dance, he'd
made sure of that. Protecting her honor, Elena thought wryly, and with a pang, because she knew in her
heart that there was more to it than that.
"He can live without you for one evening," said Bonnie callously. "If you get talking to him you'll never
get away, and I'dlike to get home in time for some kind of dinner."
"Hello, Mr. Shelby," said Elena to the janitor, who was still patiently waiting. To her surprise, he closed
one eye in a solemn wink at her. "Where's Meredith?" she added.
"Here," said a voice behind her, and Meredith appeared with a cardboard box of file folders and note
pads in her arms. "I've got the stuff from your locker."
"Is that all of you?" said Mr. Shelby. "All right, now, you gals leave the door shut and locked, you hear?
That way nobody can get in."
Bonnie, about to enter, pulled up short.
"You're sure there's nobodyalready in?" she said warily.
Elena gave her a push between the shoulder blades. "Hurry up," she mimicked unkindly. "I want to get
home in time for dinner.""What?" She'd forgotten what she'd asked. Her cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood.
She felt so light-headed. If only he'd stoplooking at her…
"Yes, I came here looking for someone," he repeated, no louder than before. Then, in one step he
moved toward her, so that they were separated only by the corner of one bleacher seat.
Elena couldn't breathe. He was standing so close. Close enough to touch. She could smell a faint hint of
cologne and the leather of his jacket. And his eyes still held hers—she could not look away from them.
They were like no eyes she had ever seen, black as midnight, the pupils dilated like a cat's. They filled her
vision as he leaned toward her, bending his head down to hers. She felt her own eyes half close, losing
focus. She felt her head tilt back, her lips part.
No! Just in time she whipped her head to the side. She felt as if she'd just pulled herself back from the
edge of a precipice. What am I doing? she thought in shock. I was about to let him kiss me. A total
stranger, someone I met only a few minutes ago.
But that wasn't the worst thing. For those few minutes, something unbelievable had happened. For those
few minutes, she had forgotten Stefan.
But now his image filled her mind, and the longing for him was like a physical pain in her body. She
wanted Stefan, wanted his arms around her, wanted to be safe with him.
She swallowed. Her nostrils flared as she breathed hard. She tried to keep her voice steady and
dignified.
"I'm going to leave now," she said. "If you're looking for somebody, I think you'd better look somewhere
else."
He was looking at her oddly, with an expression she couldn't understand. It was a mixture of annoyance
and grudging respect—and something else. Something hot and fierce that frightened her in a different
way.
He waited until her hand was on the doorknob to answer, and his voice was soft but serious, with no
trace of amusement. "Perhaps I've already found her... Elena."
When she turned, she could see nothing in the darkness.Elena stumbled down the dim corridor, trying to visualize what was around her. Then the world suddenly
flickered to brightness and she found herself surrounded by familiar rows of lockers. Her relief was so
great that she almost cried out. She'd never have thought she would be so glad just to see. She stood for
a minute looking around gratefully.
"Elena! What are you doing out here?"It was Meredith and Bonnie, hurrying down the hall toward her.
"Where have you been?" she said fiercely.
Meredith grimaced. "We couldn't find Shelby. And when we finally did find him, he was asleep. I'm
serious," she added at Elena's incredulous look. "Asleep. And then we couldn't get him to wake up. It
wasn't until the lights went back on that he opened his eyes. Then we started back to you. But what are
you doinghere ?"
Elena hesitated. "I got tired of waiting," she said as lightly as she could. "I think we've done enough work
for one day, anyway."
"Now you tell us," said Bonnie.
Meredith said nothing, but she gave Elena a keen, searching look. Elena had the uncomfortable feeling
that those dark eyes saw beneath the surface.
All that weekend and throughout the following week, Elena worked on plans for the Haunted House.
There was never enough time to be with Stefan, and that was frustrating, but even more frustrating was
Stefan himself. She could sense his passion for her, but she could also sense that he was fighting it, still
refusing to be completely alone with her. And in many ways he was just as much a mystery to her as he
had been when she first saw him.
He never spoke about his family or his life before coming to Fell's Church, and if she asked any
questions he turned them aside. Once she had asked him if he missed Italy, if he was sorry he'd come
here. And for an instant his eyes had lightened, the green sparkling like oak leaves reflected in a running
stream. "How could I be sorry, whenyou are here?" he said, and kissed her in a way that put all inquiries
out of her mind. In that moment, Elena had known what it was like to be completely happy. She'd felt his
joy, too, and when he pulled back she had seen that his face was alight, as if the sun shone through it.
"Oh, Elena," he'd whispered.
The good times were like that. But he had kissed her less and less frequently of late, and she felt the
distance between them widening.
That Friday, she and Bonnie and Meredith decided to sleep over at the McCulloughs'. The sky was gray
and threatening to drizzle as she and Meredith walked to Bonnie's house. It was unusually chilly for
mid-October, and the trees lining the quiet street had already felt the nip of cold winds. The maples were
a blaze of scarlet, while the ginkgoes were radiant yellow.
Bonnie greeted them at the door with: "Everybody's gone! We'll have the whole house to ourselves until
tomorrow afternoon, when my family gets back from Leesburg." She beckoned them inside, grabbing for
the overfed Pekingese that was trying to get out. "No, Yangtze, stay in. Yangtze, no, don't! No!"
But it was too late. Yangtze had escaped and was dashing through the front yard up to the single birch
tree, where he yapped shrilly up into the branches, rolls of fat on his back jiggling.
"Oh, what's he afternow ?" said Bonnie, putting her hands over her ears."It looks like a crow," said Meredith.
Elena stiffened. She took a few steps toward the tree, looking up into the golden leaves. And there it
was. The same crow she had seen twice before. Perhaps three times before, she thought, remembering
the dark shape winging up from the oak trees in the cemetery.
As she looked at it she felt her stomach clench in fear and her hands grow cold. It was staring at her
again with its bright black eye, an almost human stare. That eye… where had she seen an eye like that
before?
Suddenly all three girls jumped back as the crow gave a harsh croak and thrashed its wings, bursting out
of the tree toward them. At the last moment it swooped down instead on the little dog, which was now
barking hysterically. It came within inches of canine teeth and then soared back up again, flying over the
house to disappear into the black walnut trees beyond.
The three girls stood frozen in astonishment. Then Bonnie and Meredith looked at each other, and the
tension shattered in nervous laughter.
"For a moment I thought he was coming for us," said Bonnie, going over to the outraged Pekingese and
dragging him, still barking, back into the house.
"So did I," said Elena quietly. And as she followed her friends inside, she did not join in the laughter.
Once she and Meredith had put their things away, however, the evening fell into a familiar pattern. It was
hard to keep hold of her uneasiness sitting in Bonnie's cluttered living room beside a roaring fire, with a
cup of hot chocolate in her hand. Soon the three of them were discussing the final plans for the Haunted
House, and she relaxed.
"We're in pretty good shape," said Meredith at last. "Of course, we've spent so much time figuring out
everyone else's costumes that we haven't even thought about our own."
"Mine's easy," said Bonnie. "I'm going to be a druid priestess, and I only need a garland of oak leaves in
my hair and some white robes. Mary and I can sew it in one night."
"I think I'll be a witch," said Meredith thoughtfully. "All that takes is a long black dress. What about you,
Elena?"
Elena smiled. "Well, it was supposed to be a secret, but… Aunt Judith let me go to a dressmaker. I
found a picture of a Renaissance gown in one of the books I used for my oral report, and we're having it
copied. It's Venetian silk, ice blue, and it's absolutely beautiful."
"It sounds beautiful," Bonnie said. "And expensive."
"I'm using my own money from my parents' trust. I just hope Stefan likes it. It's a surprise for him, and…
well, I just hope he likes it."
"What's Stefan going to be? Is he helping with the Haunted House?" said Bonnie curiously.
"I don't know," Elena said after a moment. "He doesn't seem too thrilled with the whole Halloween
thing.""It's hard to see him all wrapped up in torn sheets and covered with fake blood like the other guys,"
agreed Meredith. "He seems… well, too dignified for that."
"I know!" said Bonnie. "I know exactly what he can be, and he'll hardly have to dress up at all. Look,
he's foreign, he's sort of pale, he has that wonderful brooding look… Put him in tails and you've got a
perfect Count Dracula!"
Elena smiled in spite of herself. "Well, I'll ask him," she said.
"Speaking of Stefan," said Meredith, her dark eyes on Elena's, "how are things going?"
Elena sighed, looking away into the fire. "I'm… not sure," she said at last, slowly. "There are times when
everything is wonderful, and then there are other times when…"
Meredith and Bonnie exchanged a glance, and then Meredith spoke gently. "Other times when what?"
Elena hesitated, debating. Then she came to a decision. "Just a sec," she said, and got up and hurried up
the stairs. She came back down with a small blue velvet book in her hands.
"I wrote some of it down last night when I couldn't sleep," she said. "This says it better than I could
now." She found the page, took a deep breath, and began:
"October 17
"Dear Diary,
"I feel awful tonight. AndIhave to share it with someone .
"Something is going wrong with Stefan and me. There is this terrible sadness inside him that I
can't reach, and it's driving us apart. I don't know what to do.
"I can't bear the thought of losing him. But he's so very unhappy about something, and if he won't
tell me what it is, if he won't trust me that much, I don't see any hope for us.
"Yesterday when he was holding me I felt something smooth and round underneath his shirt,
something on a chain. I asked him, teasingly, if it was a gift from Caroline. And he just froze and
wouldn't talk anymore. It was as if he were suddenly a thousand miles away, and his eyes… there
was so much pain in his eyes that I could hardly stand it."
Elena stopped reading and traced the last lines written in the journal silently with her eyes.I feel as if
someone has hurt him terribly in the past and he's never got over it. But I also think there's
something he's afraid of, some secret he's afraid I'll find out. If I only knew what that was, I could
prove to him that he can trust me. That he can trust me no matter what happens, to the end .
"If only I knew," she whispered.
"If only you knew what?" said Meredith, and Elena looked up, startled."Oh—if only I knew what was going to happen," she said quickly, closing the diary. "I mean, if I knew
we were going to break up eventually, I suppose I'd just want to get it over with. And if I knew it was
going to turn out all right in the end, I wouldn't mind anything that happens now. But just going day after
day without being sure is awful."
Bonnie bit her lip, then sat up, eyes sparkling. "I can show you a way to find out, Elena," she said. "My
grandmother told me the way to find out who you're going to marry. It's called a dumb supper."
"Let me guess, an old druid trick," said Meredith.
"I don't know how old it is," said Bonnie. "My grandmother says there have always been dumb suppers.
Anyway, it works. My mother saw my father's image when she tried it, and a month later they were
married. It's easy, Elena; and what have you got to lose?"
Elena looked from Bonnie to Meredith. "I don't know," she said. "But, look, you don't really believe…"
Bonnie drew herself up with affronted dignity. "Are you calling my mother a liar? Oh, come on, Elena,
there's no harm in trying. Why not?"
"What would I have to do?" said Elena doubtfully. She felt strangely intrigued, but at the same time
rather frightened.
"It's simple. We have to get everything ready before the stroke of midnight…"
Five minutes before midnight, Elena stood in the McCulloughs' dining room, feeling more foolish than
anything else. From the backyard, she could hear Yangtze's frantic barking, but inside the house there
was no sound except the unhurried tick of the grandfather clock. Following Bonnie's instructions, she had
set the big black walnut table with one plate, one glass, and one set of silverware, all the time not saying a
word. Then she had lit a single candle in a candleholder in the center of the table, and positioned herself
behind the chair with the place setting.
According to Bonnie, on the stroke of midnight she was supposed to pull the chair back and invite her
future husband in. At that point, the candle would blow out and she would see a ghostly figure in the
chair.
Earlier, she'd been a little uneasy about this, uncertain that she wanted to seeany ghostly figures, even of
her husband-to-be. But just now the whole thing seemed silly and harmless. As the clock began to chime,
she straightened up and got a better grip on the chair back. Bonnie had told her not to let go until the
ceremony was over.
Oh, thiswas silly. Maybe she wouldn't say the words… but when the clock started to toll out the hour,
she heard herself speaking.
"Come in," she said self-consciously to the empty room, drawing out the chair. "Come in, come in…"
The candle went out.
Elena started in the sudden darkness. She'd felt the wind, a cold gust that had blown out the candle. It
came from the French doors behind her, and she turned quickly, one hand still on the chair. She would
have sworn those doors were shut.Something moved in the darkness.
Terror washed through Elena, sweeping away her self-consciousness and any trace of amusement. Oh,
God, what had she done, what had she brought on herself? Her heart contracted and she felt as if she
had been plunged, without warning, into her most dreadful nightmare. It was not only dark but utterly
silent; there was nothing to see and nothing to hear, and she was falling…
"Allow me," said a voice, and a bright flame sputtered in the darkness.
For a terrible, sickening instant she thought it was Tyler, remembering his lighter in the ruined church on
the hill. But as the candle on the table sprang to life, she saw the pale, long-fingered hand that held it. Not
Tyler's beefy red fist. She thought for an instant it was Stefan's, and then her eyes lifted to the face.
"You!" she said, astounded. "What do you think you're doing here?" She looked from him to the French
doors, which were indeed open, showing the side lawn. "Do you always just walk into other people's
houses uninvited?"
"But you asked me to come in." His voice was as she remembered it, quiet, ironical and amused. She
remembered the smile, too. "Thank you," he added, and gracefully sat down in the chair she had drawn
out.
She snatched her hand off the back. "I wasn't invitingyou ," she said helplessly, caught between
indignation and embarrassment. "What were you doing hanging around outside Bonnie's house?"
He smiled. In the candlelight, his black hair shone almost like liquid, too soft and fine for human hair. His
face was very pale, but at the same time utterly compelling. And his eyes caught her own and held them.
" 'Helen, thy beauty is to me/Like those Nicean barks of yore/That gently, over a perfumed sea…' "
"I think you'd better leave now." She didn't want him to talk anymore. His voice did strange things to
her, made her feel oddly weak, started a melting in her stomach. "You shouldn't be here. Please." She
reached for the candle, meaning to take it and leave him, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to
overcome her.
But before she could grasp it, he did something extraordinary. He caught her reaching hand, not roughly
but gently, and held it in his cool slender fingers. Then he turned her hand over, bent his dark head, and
kissed her palm.
"Don't…" whispered Elena, stunned.
"Come with me," he said, and looked up into her eyes.
"Please don't…" she whispered again, the world swimming around her. He was mad; what was he
talking about? Come with him where? But she felt so dizzy, so faint.
He was standing, supporting her. She leaned against him, felt those cool fingers on the first button of the
shirt at her throat, "Please, no…"
"It's all right. You'll see." He pulled the shirt away from her neck, his other hand behind her head.
"No." Suddenly, strength returned to her, and she jerked away from him, stumbling against the chair. "Itold you to leave, and I meant it. Get out—now!"
For an instant, pure fury surged in his eyes, a dark wave of menace. Then they went calm and cold and
he smiled, a swift, brilliant smile that he turned off again instantly.
"I'll leave," he said. "For the moment."
She shook her head and watched him go out the French doors without speaking. When they had shut
behind him, she stood in the silence, trying to get her breath.
The silence… but it shouldn't be silent. She turned toward the grandfather clock in bewilderment and
saw that it had stopped. But before she could examine it closely, she heard Meredith's and Bonnie's
raised voices.
She hurried out into the hall, feeling the unaccustomed weakness in her legs, pulling her shirt back up and
buttoning it. The back door was open, and she could see two figures outside, stooping over something on
the lawn.
"Bonnie? Meredith? What's wrong?"
Bonnie looked up as Elena reached them. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Elena, he's dead."
With a chill of horror, Elena stared down at the little bundle at Bonnie's feet. It was the Pekingese, lying
very stiffly on his side, eyes open. "Oh, Bonnie," she said.
"He was old," said Bonnie, "but I never expected him to go this quickly. Just a little while ago, he was
barking."
"I think we'd better go inside," said Meredith, and Elena looked up at her and nodded. Tonight was not
a night to be out in the dark. It was not a night to invite things inside, either. She knew that now, although
she still didn't understand what had happened.
It was when they got back in the living room that she found her diary was missing.
Stefan lifted his head from the velvet-soft neck of the doe. The woods were filled with night noises, and
he couldn't be sure which had disturbed him.
With the Power of his mind distracted, the deer roused from its trance. He felt muscles quiver as she
tried to get her feet under her.
Go, then, he thought, sitting back and releasing her entirely. With a twist and a heave, she was up and
running.
He'd had enough. Fastidious, he licked at the corners of his mouth, feeling his canine teeth retract and
blunt, oversensitive as always after a prolonged feed. It was hard to know what enough was anymore.
There had been no spells of dizziness since the one beside the church, but he lived in fear of their return.
He lived in one specific fear: that he would come to his senses one day, his mind reeling with confusion,
to find Elena's graceful body limp in his arms, her slim throat marked with two red wounds, her heartstilled forever.
That was what he had to look forward to.
The blood lust, with all its myriad terrors and pleasures, was a mystery to him even now. Although he
had lived with it every day for centuries, he still did not understand it. As a living human, he would no
doubt have been disgusted, sickened, by the thought of drinking the rich warm stuff directly from a
breathing body. That is, if someone had proposed such a thing to him in so many words.
But no words had been used that night, the night Katherine had changed him.
Even after all these years, the memory was clear. He had been asleep when she appeared in his
chamber, moving as softly as a vision or a ghost. He had been asleep, alone…
She was wearing a fine linen shift when she came to him.
It was the night before the day she had named, the day when she would announce her choice. And she
came to him.
A white hand parted the curtains around his bed, and Stefan woke from sleep, sitting up in alarm. When
he saw her, pale golden hair gleaming about her shoulders, blue eyes lost in shadow, he was struck silent
with amazement.
And with love. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He trembled and tried to speak, but
she put two cool fingers over his lips.
"Hush," she whispered, and the bed sank under new weight as she got in.
His face flamed, his heart was thundering with embarrassment and with excitement. There had never
been a woman in his bed before. And this was Katherine, Katherine whose beauty seemed to come from
heaven, Katherine whom he loved more than his own soul.
And because he loved her, he made a great effort. As she slipped under the sheets, drawing so near to
him that he could feel the cool freshness of night air in her thin shift, he managed to speak.
"Katherine," he whispered. "We—I can wait. Until we are married in the church. I will have my father
arrange it next week. It—it will not be long…"
"Hush," she whispered again, and he felt that coolness on his skin. He couldn't help himself; he put his
arms around her, holding her to him.
"What we do now has nothing to do with that," she said, and reached out her slim fingers to stroke his
throat.
He understood. And felt a flash of fear, which disappeared as her fingers went on stroking. He wanted
this, wanted anything that would let him be with Katherine.
"Lie back, my love," she whispered.My love. The words sang through him as he lay back on the pillow, tilting his chin back so that his throat
was exposed. His fear was gone, replaced by a happiness so great that he thought it would shatter him.
He felt the soft brush of her hair on his chest, and tried to calm his breathing. He felt her breath on his
throat, and then her lips. And then her teeth.
There was a stinging pain, but he held himself still and made no sound, thinking only of Katherine, of how
he wished to give to her. And almost at once the pain eased, and he felt the blood being drawn from his
body. It was not terrible, as he had feared. It was a feeling of giving, of nurturing.
Then it was as if their minds were merging, becoming one. He could feel Katherine's joy in drinking from
him, her delight in taking the warm blood that gave her life. And he knew she could feel his delight in
giving. But reality was receding, the boundaries between dreams and waking becoming blurred. He could
not think clearly; he could not think at all. He could onlyfeel , and his feelings were spiraling up and up,
carrying him higher and higher, breaking his last ties with earth.
Sometime later, without knowing how he had gotten there, he found himself in her arms. She was
cradling him like a mother holding an infant child, guiding his mouth to rest on the bare flesh just above the
low neck of her night shift. There was a tiny wound there, a cut showing dark against the pale skin. He
felt no fear or hesitation, and when she stroked his hair encouragingly, he began to suck.
Cold and precise, Stefan brushed dirt off his knees. The human world was asleep, lost in stupor, but his
own senses were knife-keen. He should have been sated, but he was hungry again; the memory had
wakened his appetite. Nostrils flaring wide to catch the musky scent of fox, he began to hunt.
The knife rose, as the man stepped forward. She flung her hand out, a futile gesture she was unable tohalt. He laughed, and grabbed at her wrist. She cried aloud with the pain as he forced her arm aside,
exposing her chest. Then, in a frenzy of movement, he struck, plunging that glittering blade straight for
her.
At the last second, she screamed.
And shot bolt-upright in her bed, panting, sweating, clutching the sheets about her for protection. Her
eyes flew open into the darkness of her own room. She could see shapes and shadows of her precious,
familiar life, in the gray light coming through the window. The canopy of her bed, overhead, more
protective than the tree she had just died under. The warmth of the bedclothes she gripped tightly to
herself. The—
Twin red spots burned in the shadows by the doorway.
He was here, in her room! He had escaped from her dream! He—
She fought down the terror that was bubbling up within herself, moving slightly to get a better view of the
redness. Then she sighed with relief. It was the light from her digital alarm, hitting her mirror on the far
wall. There really wasn't anyone in the room with her at all. She was alone, and her parents were across
the hall from her, and she was safe. Utterly, utterly safe. It had just been a dream.
Then the redness winked out. Terror started to build up again in her. She could feel something in the
room, something malevolent, something watching her, savoring the smell of her fear. She couldn't turn her
head to see. If she didn't look, maybe, maybe she'd be wrong, and it wasn't there.
If the redness had been the alarm clock in the mirror, then why had it suddenly vanished?
Refusing to surrender to the childish urge to dive under the bedcovers and cry, she fought the tense
muscles in her neck, slowly managing to twist her head about to look at the clock.
The front wasn't lit at all. Then, as she stared, the red numbers came back to life, blinking 12:00, over
and over.
She let her breath out in one long rush. It had been a momentary power failure, nothing more. The
figures flashed on and off now, demanding to taken care of, and she reached out a hesitant hand for her
watch. She half expected something to reach out of the gloom and grab her, but nothing did. She glanced
at the watch-face, but could make nothing out. It was too dark. She switched on the bedside lamp, and
quickly glanced all around her room. Everything was normal, just as it had been when she had turned off
the light to go to sleep.
3:32 in the morning! She brushed her hair back and reached over, setting the alarm again. Then she took
a drink of the water on her night-table. One last look around, to be certain that all was fine, then she
reached for the light. And hesitated. Maybe she'd be better off leaving it on for the last couple of hours of
the night? Then she took a grip on her fears, and refused to revert to her childhood dread of the
darkness. There was nothing there to harm her, nothing at all. It had just been a bad dream that she'd
been having. For the fourth time.
Fighting back her worries, she hastily switched off the light, and buried herself under the bedcovers
again. Their warmth about her was comforting. But her nightdress stuck to her where she had been
sweating, and she wriggled uncomfortably. She was exhausted, as if she'd really been running those
terror-filled miles in the eerie forest. And her feet hurt. She rubbed at her left sole, trying to ease thecramping sensations. It didn't help much. And it felt rough, and sore. Almost as if she had been racing
through woods in her bare feet. With a sigh of relief, she was just glad that there wasn't any blood or
scratches on her body. Had there been, she just might have given in to the panic that lurked slightly over
the thresholdof her consciousness. She was afraid to return to sleep, in case the dream came back.
Maybe she'd just stay awake until the morning… Slowly, without being aware of it, Sharon drifted into a
dreamless slumber for the remainder of the night.