Chapter 13 - EP: 4 VAMPIRE DIARIES

He even had a smile for Damon when they met at the designated place that evening. Damon had been

absent from the house all day, but he showed up in the meticulously landscaped garden precisely on time,

and stood lounging against a tree, adjusting his cuff. Katherine was late.

"Perhaps she is tired," Stefan suggested, watching the melon-colored sky fade into deep midnight blue.

He tried to keep the shy smugness from his voice. "Perhaps she needs more rest than usual."

Damon glanced at him sharply, his dark eyes piercing under the shock of black hair. "Perhaps," he said

on a rising note, as if he would have said more.

But then they heard a light step on the path, and Katherine appeared between the box hedges. She was

wearing her white gown, and she was as beautiful as an angel.

She had a smile for both of them. Stefan returned the smile politely, speaking their secret only with his

eyes. Then he waited.

"You asked me to make my choice," she said, looking first at him and then at his brother. "And now you

have come at the hour I appointed, and I will tell you what I have chosen."

She held up her small hand, the one with the ring on it, and Stefan looked at the stone, realizing it was

the same deep blue as the evening sky. It was as if Katherine carried a piece of the night with her,

always.

"You have both seen this ring," she said quietly. "And you know that without it I would die. It is not easyto have such talismans made, but fortunately my woman Gudren is clever. And there are many

silversmiths in Florence."

Stefan was listening without comprehension, but when she turned to him he smiled again, encouragingly.

"And so," she said, gazing into his eyes. "I have had a present made for you." She took his hand and

pressed something into it. When he looked he saw that it was a ring in the same fashion as her own, but

larger and heavier, and wrought in silver instead of gold.

"You do not need it yet to face the sun," she said softly, smiling. "But very soon you will."

Pride and rapture made him mute. He reached for her hand to kiss it, wanting to take her into his arms

right then, even in front of Damon. But Katherine was turning away.

"And for you," she said, and Stefan thought his ears must be betraying him, for surely the warmth, the

fondness in Katherine's voice could not be for his brother, "for you, also. You will need ft very soon as

well."

Stefan's eyes must be traitors, too. They were showing him what was impossible, what could not be.

Into Damon's hand Katherine was putting a ring just like his own.

The silence that followed was absolute, like the silence after the world's ending.

"Katherine—" Stefan could barely force out the words. "How can you give that tohim ? After what we

shared—"

"Whatyou shared?" Damon's voice was like the crack of a whip, and he turned on Stefan angrily. "Last

night she came to me. The choice is already made." And Damon jerked down his high collar to show two

tiny wounds in his throat. Stefan stared at them, fighting down the bright sickness. They were identical to

his own wounds.

He shook his head in utter bewilderment. "But, Katherine… it was not a dream. You came tome …"

"I came to both of you." Katherine's voice was tranquil, even pleased, and her eyes were serene. She

smiled at Damon and then at Stefan in turn. "It has weakened me, but I am so glad I did. Don't you see?"

she continued as they stared at her, too stunned to speak. "This is my choice! I love you both, and I will

not give either of you up. Now we all three will be together, and be happy."

"Happy—" Stefan choked out.

"Yes, happy! The three of us will be companions, joyous companions, forever." Her voice rose with

elation, and the light of a radiant child shone in her eyes. "We will be together always, never feeling

sickness, never growing old, until the end of time! That is my choice."

"Happy… withhim ?" Damon's voice was shaking with fury, and Stefan saw that his normally

self-contained brother was white with rage. "With thisboy standing between us, this prating, mouthing

paragon of virtue? I can barely stand the sight of him now. I wish to God that I should never see him

again, never hear his voice again!"

"And I wish the same ofyou , brother," snarled Stefan, his heart tearing in his breast. This was Damon's

fault; Damon had poisoned Katherine's mind so that she no longer knew what she was doing. "And Ihave half a mind to make sure of it," he added savagely.

Damon did not mistake his meaning. "Then get your sword, if you can find it," he hissed back, his eyes

black with menace.

"Damon, Stefan, please! Please, no!" Katherine cried, putting herself between them, catching Stefan's

arm. She looked from one to the other, her blue eyes wide with shock and bright with unshed tears.

"Think of what you are saying. You are brothers."

"By no fault of mine," Damon grated, making the words a curse.

"But can you not make peace? For me, Damon… Stefan?Please ."

Part of Stefan wanted to melt at Katherine's desperate look, at her tears. But wounded pride and

jealousy were too strong, and he knew his face was as hard, as unyielding, as Damon's.

"No," he said. "We cannot. It must be one or the other, Katherine. I will never share you withhim ."

Katherine's hand fell away from his arm, and the tears fell from her eyes, great droplets that splashed

onto the white gown. She caught her breath in a wrenching sob. Then, still weeping, she picked up her

skirts and ran.

"And then Damon took the ring she had given him and put it on," Stefan said, his voice hoarse with use

and emotion. "And he said to me, 'I'll have her yet,brother .' And then he walked away." He turned,

blinking as if he'd come into a bright light from the dark, and looked at Elena.

She was sitting quite still on the bed, watching him with those eyes that were so much like Katherine's.

Especially now, when they were filled with sorrow and dread. But Elena did not run. She spoke to him.

"And… what happened then?"

Stefan's hands clenched violently, reflexively, and he jerked away from the window. Not that memory.

He could not endure that memory himself, much less try tospeak it. How could he do that? How could

he take Elena down into that darkness and show her the terrible things lurking there?

"No," he said. "I can't. Ican't ."

"You have to tell me," she said softly. "Stefan, it's the end of the story, isn't it? That's what's behind all

your walls, that's what you're afraid to let me see. But you must let me see it. Oh, Stefan, you can't stop

now."

He could feel the horror reaching for him, the yawning pit he had seen so clearly, felt so clearly that day

long ago. The day when it had all ended—when it had all begun.

He felt his hand taken, and when he looked he saw Elena's fingers closed about it, giving him warmth,

giving him strength. Her eyes were on his. "Tell me."

"You want to know what happened next, what became of Katherine?" he whispered. She nodded, her

eyes nearly blind but still steady. "I'll tell you, then. She died the next day. My brother Damon and I, weElena felt her flesh creep at the words.

"You don't mean that," she said shakily. She remembered what she had seen on the roof, the blood

smeared on Stefan's lips, and she forced herself not to recoil from him. "Stefan, I know you. You couldn't

have done that…"

He ignored her protestations, just went on staring with eyes that burned like the green ice at the bottom

of a glacier. He was looking through her, into some incomprehensible distance. "As I lay in bed that night,

I hoped against hope that she would come. Already I was noticing some of the changes in myself. I could

see better in the dark; it seemed I could hear better. I felt stronger than ever before, full of some

elemental energy. And I was hungry.

"It was a hunger I had never imagined. At dinner I found that ordinary food and drink did nothing to

satisfy it. I couldn't understand that. And then I saw the white neck of one of the serving girls, and I knew

why." He drew a long breath, his eyes dark and tortured. "That night, I resisted the need, though it took

all my will. I was thinking of Katherine, and praying she would come to me. Praying!" He gave a short

laugh. "If a creature like me can pray."

Elena's fingers were numb within his grasp, but she tried to tighten them, to send him reassurance. "Go

on, Stefan."

He had no trouble speaking now. He seemed almost to have forgotten her presence, as if he were telling

this story to himself.

"The next morning the need was stronger. It was as if my own veins were dry and cracked, desperate

for moisture. I knew that I couldn't stand it for long.

"I went to Katherine's chambers. I meant to ask her, to plead with her—" His voice cracked. He paused

and then went on. "But Damon was there already, waiting outside her rooms. I could see thathe hadn't

resisted the need. The glow of his skin, the spring in his step, told me that. He looked as smug as the cat

who's had the cream.

"But he hadn't had Katherine. 'Knock all you like,' he said to me, 'but the female dragon inside won't let

you past. I've tried already. Shall we overpower her, you and I?'

"I wouldn't answer him. The look on his face, that sly, self-satisfied look, repelled me. I pounded on that

door to wake…" He faltered, and then gave another humorless laugh. "I was going to say, 'to wake the

dead.' But the dead aren't so hard to wake after all, are they?" After a moment, he went on.

"The maid, Gudren, opened the door. She had a face like a flat white plate, and eyes like black glass. I

asked her if I could see her mistress. I expected to be told that Katherine was asleep, but instead Gudren

just looked at me, then at Damon over my shoulder.'I would not tellhim ,' she said at last, 'but I will tell you. My lady Katerina is not within. She went out

early this morning, to walk in the gardens. She said she had much need of thought.'

"I was surprised. 'Early this morning?' I said.

" 'Yes,' she replied. She looked at both Damon and me without liking. 'My mistress was very unhappy

last night,' she said meaningfully. 'All night long, she wept.'

"When she said that, a strange feeling came over me. It wasn't just shame and grief that Katherine should

be so unhappy. It was fear. I forgot my hunger and weakness. I even forgot my enmity for Damon. I was

filled with haste and a great driving urgency. I turned to Damon and told him that we had to find

Katherine, and to my surprise he just nodded.

"We began to search the gardens, calling Katherine's name. I remember just what everything looked like

that day. The sun was shining on the high cypress trees and the pines in the garden. Damon and I hurried

between them, moving more and more quickly, and calling. We kept calling her…"

Elena could feel the tremors in Stefan's body, communicated to her through his tightly gripping fingers.

He was breathing rapidly but shallowly.

"We had almost reached the end of the gardens when I remembered a place that Katherine had loved. It

was a little way out onto the grounds, a low wall beside a lemon tree. I started there, shouting for her.

But as I got closer, I stopped shouting. I felt… a fear—a terrible premonition. And I knew I

mustn't—mustn't go—"

"Stefan!" said Elena. He was hurting her, his fingers biting into her own, crushing them. The tremors

racing through his body were growing, becoming shudders. "Stefan, please!"

But he gave no sign that he heard her. "It was like—a nightmare—everything happening so slowly. I

couldn't move—and yet I had to. I had to keep walking. With each step, the fear grew stronger. I could

smell it. A smell like burned fat. I mustn't go there—I don't want to see it—"

His voice had become high and urgent, his breath coming in gasps. His eyes were wide and dilated, like

a terrified child's. Elena gripped his viselike fingers with her other hand, enfolding them completely.

"Stefan, it's all right. You're not there. You're here with me."

"I don't want to see it—but I can't help it. There's something white. Something white under the tree.

Don't make me look at it!"

"Stefan, Stefan, look at me!"

He was beyond hearing. His words came in heaving spasms, as if he could not control them, could not

get them out fast enough. "I can't go any closer—but I do. I see the tree, the wall. And that white. Behind

the tree. White with gold underneath. And then I know, I know, and I'm moving toward it because it's

her dress. Katherine's white dress. And I get around the tree and I see it on the ground and it's true. It's

Katherine's dress,"—his voice rose and broke in unimaginable horror—"but Katherine isn't in it."

Elena felt a chill, as if her body had been plunged into ice water. Her skin rose in goose-flesh, and she

tried to speak to him but couldn't. He was rattling on as if he could keep the terror away if he kept on

talking.

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"Katherine isn't there, so maybe it's all a joke, but her dress is on the ground and it's full of ashes. Like

the ashes in the hearth, just like that, only these smell of burned flesh. They stink. The smell is making me

sick and faint. Beside the sleeve of the dress is a piece of parchment. And on a rock, on a rock a little

way away is a ring. A ring with a blue stone, Katherine's ring. Katherine's ring…" Suddenly, he called out

in a terrible voice, "Katherine, what have youdone ?" Then he fell to his knees, releasing Elena's fingers at

last, to bury his face in his hands.

Elena held him as he was gripped by wracking sobs. She held his shoulders, pulling him to her lap.

"Katherine took the ring off," she whispered. It was not a question. "She exposed herself to the sun."

His harsh sobs went on and on, as she held him to the full skirts of the blue gown, stroking his quivering

shoulders. She murmured nonsense meant to soothe him, pushing away her own horror. And, presently,

he quieted and lifted his head. He spoke thickly, but he seemed to have returned to the present, to have

come back.

"The parchment was a note, for me and for Damon. It said she had been selfish, wanting to have both of

us. It said—she couldn't bear to be the cause of strife between us. She hoped that once she was gone we

would no longer hate each other. She did it to bring us together."

"Oh, Stefan," whispered Elena. She felt burning tears fill her own eyes in sympathy. "Oh, Stefan, I'm so

sorry. But don't you see, after all this time, that what Katherine did was wrong? It was selfish, even, and

it washer choice. In a way, it had nothing to do with you, or with Damon."

Stefan shook his head as if to shake off the truth of the words. "She gave her life… for that. We killed

her." He was sitting up now. But his eyes were still dilated, great disks of black, and he had the look of a

small bewildered boy.

"Damon came up behind me. He took the note and read it. And then—I think he went mad. We were

both mad. I had picked up Katherine's ring, and he tried to take it. He shouldn't have. We struggled. We

said terrible things to each other. We each blamed the other for what had happened. I don't remember

how we got back to the house, but suddenly I had my sword. We were fighting. I wanted to destroy that

arrogant face forever, to kill him. I remember my father shouting from the house. We fought harder, to

finish it before he reached us.

"And we were well matched. But Damon had always been stronger, and that day he seemed faster, too,

as if he had changed more than I had. And so while my father was still shouting from the window I felt

Damon's blade get past my guard. Then I felt it enter my heart."

Elena stared, aghast, but he went on without pause. "I felt the pain of the steel, I felt it stab through me,

deep, deep inside. All the way through, a hard thrust. And then the strength poured out of me and I fell. I

lay there on the paved ground."

He looked up at Elena and finished simply, "And that is how… I died."

Elena sat frozen, as if the ice she'd felt in her chest earlier tonight had flooded out and trapped her.

"Damon came and stood over me and bent down. I could hear my father's cries from far away, and

screams from the household, but all I could see was Damon's face. Those black eyes that were like a

moonless night. I wanted to hurt him for what he had done to me. For everything he had done to me, and

to Katherine." Stefan was quiet a moment, and then he said, almost dreamily, "And so I lifted my swordand I killed him. With the last of my strength, I stabbed my brother through the heart."

The storm had moved on, and through the broken window Elena could hear soft night noises, the chirp

of crickets, the wind sifting through trees. In Stefan's room, it was very still.

"I knew nothing more until I woke up in my tomb," said Stefan. He leaned back, away from her, and

shut his eyes. His face was pinched and weary, but that awful childlike dreaminess was gone.

"Both Damon and I had had just enough of Katherine's blood to keep us from truly dying. Instead we

changed. We woke together in our tomb, dressed in our best clothing, laid on slabs side by side. We

were too weak to hurt each other anymore; the blood had been just barely enough. And we were

confused. I called to Damon, but he ran outside into the night.

"Fortunately, we had been buried with the rings Katherine had given us. And I found her ring in my

pocket." As if unconsciously, Stefan reached up to stroke the golden circlet. "I suppose they thought she

had given it to me.

"I tried to go home. That was stupid. The servants screamed at the sight of me and ran to fetch a priest. I

ran, too. Into the only place where I was safe, into the dark.

"And that is where I've stayed ever since. It's where I belong, Elena. I killed Katherine with my pride

and my jealousy, and I killed Damon with my hatred. But I did worse than kill my brother. I damned him.

"If he hadn't died then, with Katherine's blood so strong in his veins, he would have had a chance. In

time the blood would have grown weaker, and then passed away. He would have become a normal

human again. By killing him then, I condemned him to live in the night. I took away his only chance of

salvation."

Stefan laughed bitterly. "Do you know what the name Salvatore means in Italian, Elena? It means

salvation, savior. I'm named that, and for St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr. And I damned my

brother to hell."

"No," said Elena. And then, in a stronger voice, she said, "No, Stefan. He damned himself. He killedyou

. But what happened to him after that?"

"For a while he joined one of the Free Companies, ruthless mercenaries whose business was to rob and

plunder. He wandered across the country with them, fighting and drinking the blood of his victims.

"I was living beyond the city gates by then, half starved, preying on animals, an animal myself. For a long

time, I heard nothing about Damon. Then one day I heard his voice in my mind.

"He was stronger than I, because he was drinking human blood. And killing. Humans have the strongest

life essence, and their blood gives power. And when they're killed, somehow the life essence they give is

strongest of all. It's as if in those last moments of terror and struggle the soul is the most vibrant. Because

Damon killed humans, he was able to draw on the Powers more than I was."

"What… powers?" said Elena. A thought was growing in her mind.

"Strength, as you said, and quickness. A sharpening of all the senses, especially at night. Those are thebasics. We can also… feel minds. We can sense their presence, and sometimes the nature of their

thoughts. We can cast confusion about weaker minds, either to overwhelm them or to bend them to our

will. There are others. With enough human blood we can change our shapes, become animals. And the

more you kill, the stronger all the Powers become."

"Damon's voice in my mind was very strong. He said he was now thecondottieri of his own ' company

and he was coming back to Florence. He said that if I was there when he arrived he would kill me. I

believed him, and I left. I've seen him once or twice since then. The threat is always the same, and he's

always more powerful. Damon's made the most of his nature, and he seems to glory in its darkest side."

"But it's my nature, too. The same darkness is inside me. I thought that I could conquer it, but I was

wrong. That's why I came here, to Fell's Church. I thought if I settled in some small town, far away from

the old memories, I might escape the darkness. And instead, tonight, I killed a man."

"No," said Elena forcefully. "I don't believe that, Stefan." His story had filled her with horror and pity…

and fear, too. She admitted that. But her disgust had vanished, and there was one thing she was sure

about. Stefan wasn't a murderer. "What happened tonight, Stefan? Did you argue with Tanner?"

"I… don't remember," he said bleakly. "I used the Power to persuade him to do what you wanted. Then

I left. But later I felt the dizziness and the weakness come over me. Asit has before." He looked up at her

directly. "The last time it happened was in the cemetery, right by the church, the night Vickie Bennett was

attacked."

"But you didn't do that. Youcouldn't have done that… Stefan?"

"I don't know," he said harshly. "What other explanation is there? And I did take blood from the old man

under the bridge, that night you girls ran away from the graveyard. I would have sworn I didn't take

enough to harm him, but he almost died. And I was there when both Vickie and Tanner were attacked."

"But you don't remember attacking them," said Elena, relieved. The idea that had been growing in her

mind was now almost a certainty.

"What difference does it make? Who else could have done it, if not me?"

"Damon," said Elena.

He flinched, and she saw his shoulders tighten again. "It's a nice thought. I hoped at first that there might

be some explanation like that. That it might be someone else, someone like my brother. But I've searched

with my mind and found nothing, no other presence. The simplest explanation is that I'm the killer."

"No," said Elena, "you don't understand. I don't just mean that someone like Damon might do the things

we've seen. I mean Damon is here, in Fell's Church. I've seen him."

Stefan just stared at her.

"It must be him," Elena said, taking a deep breath. "I've seen him twice now, maybe three times. Stefan,

you just told me a long story, and now I've got one to tell you."

As quickly and simply as she could, she told him about what had happened in the gym, and at Bonnie's

house. His lips tightened into a white line as she told him how Damon had tried to kiss her. Her cheeks

grew hot as she remembered her own response, how she had almost given in to him. But she told Stefaneverything.

About the crow, too, and all the other strange things that had happened since she had come home from

France.

"And, Stefan, I think Damon was at the Haunted House tonight," she finished. "Just after you felt dizzy in

the front room, someone passed me. He was dressed up like—like Death, in black robes and a hood,

and I couldn't see his face. But something about the way he moved was familiar. It was him, Stefan.

Damon was there."

"But that still wouldn't explain the other times. Vickie and the old man. Idid take blood from the old

man." Stefan's face was taut, as if he were almost afraid to hope.

"But you said yourself you didn't take enough to harm him. Stefan, who knows what happened to that

man after you left? Wouldn't it be the easiest thing in the world for Damon to attack him then? Especially

if Damon's been spying on you all along, maybe in some other form…"

"Like a crow," murmured Stefan.

"Like a crow. And as for Vickie… Stefan, you said that you can cast confusion over weaker minds,

overpower them. Couldn't that be what Damon was doing to you? Overpowering your mind as you can

overpower a human's?"

"Yes, and shielding his presence from me." There was mounting excitement in Stefan's voice. "That's why

he hasn't answered my calls. He wanted—"

"He wanted just what's happened to happen. He wanted you to doubt yourself, to think you were a

killer.But it isn't true, Stefan . Oh, Stefan, you know that now, and you don't have to be afraid

anymore." She stood up, feeling joy and relief course through her. Out of this hideous night, something

wonderful had come.

"That's why you've been so distant with me, isn't it?" she said, holding out her hands to him. "Because

you're afraid of what you might do. But there's no need for that any longer."

"Isn'tthere ?" He was breathing quickly again, and he eyed her outstretched hands as if they were two

snakes. "You think there's no reason to be afraid? Damon may have attacked those people, but he

doesn't control my thoughts. And you don't know what I've thought about you."

Elena kept her voice level. "You don't want to hurt me," she said positively.

"No? There have been times, watching you in public, when I could scarcely bear not to touch you.

When I was so tempted by your white throat, your little white throat with the faint blue veins beneath the

skin…" His eyes were fixed on her neck in a way that reminded her of Damon's eyes, and she felt her

heartbeat step up. "Times when I thought I would grab you and force you right there in the school."

"There's no need to force me," said Elena. She could feel her pulse everywhere now; in her wrists and

the inside of her elbows—and in her throat. "I've made my decision, Stefan," she said softly, holding his

eyes. "I want to."

He swallowed thickly. "You don't know what you're asking for.""I think Ido . You told me how it was with Katherine, Stefan. I want it to be like that with us. I don't

mean I want you to change me. But we can share a little without that happening, can't we? I know," she

added, even more softly, "how much you loved Katherine. But she's gone now, and I'm here. And I love

you, Stefan. I want to be with you."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He was standing rigid, his face furious, his eyes anguished.

"If I once let go, what's tokeep me from changing you, or killing you? The passion is stronger than you

can imagine. Don't you understand yet what I am, what I can do?"

She stood there and looked at him quietly, her chin raised slightly. It seemed to enrage him.

"Haven't you seen enough yet? Or do I have to show you more? Can't you picture what I might do to

you?" He strode over to the cold fireplace and snatched out a long piece of wood, thicker than both

Elena's wrists together. With one motion, he snapped it in two like a match stick. "Yourfragile bones," he

said.

Across the room was a pillow from the bed; he caught it up and with a slash of his nails left the silk cover

in ribbons. "Yoursoft skin." Then he moved toward Elena with preternatural quickness; he was there and

had hold of her shoulders before she knew what was happening. He scared into her face a moment, then,

with a savage hiss that raised the hairs at the nape of her neck, drew his lips back.

It was the same snarl she'd seen on the roof, those white teeth bared, the canines grown to unbelievable

length and sharpness. They were the fangs of a predator, a hunter. "Your white neck," he said in a

distorted voice.

Elena stood paralyzed another instant, gazing as if compelled into that chilling visage, and then something

deep in her unconscious took over. She reached up within the restraining circle of his arms and caught his

face between her two hands. His cheeks were cool against her palms. She held him that way, softly, so

softly, as if to reprove his hard grip on her bare shoulders. And she saw the confusion slowly come to his

face, as he realized she was not doing it to fight him or to shove him away.

Elena waited until that confusion reached his eyes, shattering his gaze, becoming almost a look of

pleading. She knew that her own face was fearless, soft yet intense, her lips slightly parted. They were

both breathing quickly now, together, in rhythm. Elena could feel it when he started to shake, trembling as

he had when the memories of Katherine had become too much to bear. Then, very gently and

deliberately, she drew that snarling mouth down to her own.

He tried to oppose her. But her gentleness was stronger than all his inhuman strength. She shut her eyes

and thought only of Stefan, not of the dreadful things she had learned tonight but of Stefan, who had

stroked her hair as lightly as if she might break in his hands. She thought of that, and she kissed the

predatory mouth that had threatened her a few minutes ago.

She felt the change, the transformation in his mouth as he yielded, responding helplessly to her, meeting

her soft kisses with equal softness. She felt the shudder go through Stefan's body as the hard grip on her

shoulders softened, too, becoming an embrace. And she knew she'd won.

"You will never hurt me," she whispered.

It was as if they were kissing away all the fear and desolation and loneliness inside them. Elena felt

passion surge through her like summer lightning, and she could sense the answering passion in Stefan. But

infusing everything else was a gentleness almost frightening in its intensity. There was no need for haste orroughness, Elena thought as Stefan gently guided her to sit down.

Gradually, the kisses grew more urgent, and Elena felt the summer lightning flicker all through her body,

charging it, making her heart pound and her breath catch. It made her feel strangely soft and dizzy, made

her shut her eyes and let her head fall back in abandon.

It's time, Stefan, she thought. And, very gently, she drew his mouth down again, this time to her throat.

She felt his lips graze her skin, felt his breath warm and cool at once. Then she felt the sharp sting.

But the pain faded almost instantly. It was replaced by a feeling of pleasure that made her tremble. A

great rushing sweetness filled her, flowing through her to Stefan.

At last she found herself gazing into his face, into a face that at last had no barriers against her, no walls.

And the look she saw there made her feel weak.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered. And when she simply nodded, he held her eyes and reached for

something beside the bed. It was the dagger. She regarded it without fear, and then fixed her eyes again

on his face.

He never looked away from her as he unsheathed it and made a small cut at the base of his throat. Elena

looked at it wide-eyed, at the blood as bright as holly berries, but when he urged her forward she did not

try to resist him.

Afterward he just held her a long time, while the crickets outside made their music. Finally, he stirred.

"I wish you could stay here," he whispered. "I wish you could stay forever. But you can't."

"I know," she said, equally quiet. Their eyes met again in silent communion. There was so much to say,

so many reasons to be together. "Tomorrow," she said. Then, leaning against his shoulder, she

whispered, "Whatever happens, Stefan, I'll be with you. Tell me you believe that."

His voice was hushed, muffled in her hair. "Oh, Elena, I believe it. Whatever happens, we'll be together."As soon as he left Elena at her house, Stefan went to the woods.

He took Old Creek Road, driving under the sullen clouds-through which no patch of sky could be seen,

to the place where he had parked on the first day of school.

Leaving the car, he tried to retrace his steps exactly to the clearing where he had seen the crow. His

hunter's instincts helped him, recalling the shape of this bush and that knotted root, until he stood in the

open place ringed with ancient oak trees.

Here. Under this blanket of dingy-brown leaves, some of the rabbit's bones might even remain.

Taking a long breath to still himself, to gather his Powers, he cast out a probing, demanding thought.

And for the first time since he'd come to Fell's Church, he felt the flicker of a reply. But it seemed faint

and wavering, and he could not locate it in space.

He sighed and turned around—and stopped dead.

Damon stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, lounging against the largest oak tree. He looked

as if he might have been there for hours.

"So," said Stefan heavily, "it is true. It's been a long time, brother."

"Not as long as you think,brother ." Stefan remembered that voice, that velvety, ironical voice. "I've

kept track of you over the years," Damon said calmly. He flicked a bit of bark from the sleeve of his

leather jacket as casually as he had once arranged his brocade cuffs. "But then, you wouldn't know that,

would you? Ah, no, your Powers are as weak as ever."

"Be careful, Damon," Stefan said softly, dangerously. "Be very careful tonight. I'm not in a tolerant

mood."

"St. Stefan in a pique? Imagine. You're distressed, I suppose, because of my little excursions into your

territory. I only did it because I wanted to be close to you. Brothers should be close."

"Youkilled tonight. And you tried to make me think I'd done it."

"Are you quite sure you didn't? Perhaps we did it together. Careful!" he said as Stefan stepped toward

him. "My mood is not the most tolerant tonight, either. I only had a wizened little history teacher; you had

a pretty girl."

The fury inside Stefan coalesced, seeming to focus in one bright burning spot, like a sun inside him.

"Keep away from Elena," he whispered with such menace that Damon actually tilted his head back

slightly. "Keep away from her, Damon. I know you've been spying on her, watching her. But no more.

Go near her again and you'll regret it."

"You alwayswere selfish. Your one fault. Not willing to share anything, are you?" Suddenly, Damon's

lips curved in a singularly beautiful smile. "But fortunately the lovely Elena is more generous. Didn't she tell

you about our little liaisons? Why, the first time we met she almost gave herself to me on the spot."

"That's a lie!"

"Oh, no, dear brother. I never lie about anything important. Or do I mean unimportant? Anyway, your

beauteous damsel nearly swooned into my arms. I think she likes men in black." As Stefan stared at him,

trying to control his breathing, Damon added, almost gently, "You're wrong about her, you know. You

think she's sweet and docile, like Katherine. She isn't. She's not your type at all, my saintly brother. She

has a spirit and a fire in her that you wouldn't know what to do with."

"And you would, I suppose."

Damon uncrossed his arms and slowly smiled again. "Oh, yes."

Stefan wanted to leap for him, to smash that beautiful, arrogant smile, to tear Damon's throat out. Hesaid, in a barely controlled voice, "You're right about one thing. She's strong. Strong enough to fight you

off. And now that she knows what you really are, she will. All she feels for you now is disgust."

Damon's eyebrows lifted. "Does she, now? We'll see about that. Perhaps she'll find that real darkness is

more to her taste than feeble twilight. I, at least, can admit the truth about my nature. But I worry about

you, little brother. You're looking weak and ill-fed. She's a tease, is she?"

Kill him, something in Stefan's mind demanded. Kill him, snap his neck, rip his throat to bloody shreds.

But he knew Damon had fed very well tonight. His brother's dark aura was swollen, pulsing, almost

shining with the life essence he had taken.

"Yes, I drank deeply," Damon said pleasantly, as if he knew what was in Stefan's mind. He sighed and

ran his tongue over his lips in satisfied remembrance. "He was small, but there was a surprising amount of

juice in him. Not pretty like Elena, and he certainly didn't smell as good. But it's always exhilarating to feel

the new blood singing inside you." Damon breathed expansively, stepping away from the tree and looking

around. Stefan remembered those graceful movements, too, each gesture controlled and precise. The

centuries had only refined Damon's natural poise.

"It makes me feel like doing this," said Damon, moving to a sapling a few yards away. It was half again

as tall as he was, and when he grasped it his fingers did not meet around the trunk. But Stefan saw the

quick breath and the ripple of muscles under Damon's thin black shirt, and then the tree tore loose from

the ground, its roots dangling. Stefan could smell the pungent dampness of disturbed earth.

"I didn't like it there anyway," said Damon, and heaved it as far away as the still-entangled roots would

allow. Then he smiled engagingly. "It also makes me feel like doingthis ."

There was a shimmer of motion, and then Damon was gone. Stefan looked around but could see no sign

of him.

"Up here, brother." The voice came from overhead, and when Stefan looked up he saw Damon

perching among the spreading branches of the oak tree. There was a rustle of tawny brown leaves, and

he disappeared again.

"Back here, brother." Stefan spun at the tap on his shoulder, only to see nothing behind him. "Right here,

brother." He spun again. "No, try here." Furious, Stefan whipped the other way, trying to catch hold of

Damon. But his fingers grasped only air.

Here, Stefan. This time the voice was in his mind, and the Power of it shook him to the core. It took

enormous strength to project thoughts that clearly. Slowly, he turned around once more, to see Damon

back in his original position, leaning against the big oak tree.

But this time the humor in those dark eyes had faded. They were black and fathomless, and Damon's

lips were set in a straight line.

What more proof do you need, Stefan? I'm as much stronger than you as you are stronger than

these pitiful humans. I'm faster than you, too, and I have other Powers you've scarcely heard of.

The Old Powers, Stefan. And I'm not afraid to use them. If you fight me, I'll use them against you.

"Is that what you came here for? To torture me?"

I've been merciful with you, brother. Many times you've been mine for the killing, but I've alwaysspared your life. But this time is different. Damon stepped away from the tree again and spoke aloud.

"I am warning you, Stefan, don't oppose me. It doesn't matter what I came here for. What I want now is

Elena. And if you try to stop me from taking her, I will kill you."

"You can try," said Stefan. The hot pinpoint of fury inside him burned brighter than ever, pouring forth its

brilliance like a whole galaxy of stars. He knew, somehow, that it threatened Damon's darkness.

"You think I can't do it? You never learn, do you, little brother?" Stefan had just enough time to note

Damon's weary shake of the head when there was another blur of motion and he felt strong hands seize

him. He was fighting instantly, violently, trying with all his strength to throw them off. But they were like

hands of steel.

He lashed out savagely, trying to strike at the vulnerable area under Damon's jaw. It did no good; his

arms were pinioned behind him, his body immobilized. He was as helpless as a bird under the claws of a

lean and expert cat.

He went limp for an instant, making himself a deadweight, and then he suddenly surged with all his

muscles, trying to break free, trying to get a blow in. The cruel hands only tightened on him, making his

struggles useless. Pathetic.

You always were stubborn. Perhaps this will convince you. Stefan looked into his brother's face,

pale as the frosted-glass windows at the boarding house, and at those black bottomless eyes. Then he

felt fingers grasp his hair, jerk his head back, exposing his throat.

His struggles redoubled, became frantic.Don't bother , came the voice in his head, and then he felt the

sharp rending pain of teeth. He felt the humiliation and helplessness of the hunter's victim, of the hunted,

of the prey. And then the pain of blood being drawn out against his will.

He refused to give in to it, and the pain grew worse, a feeling as if his soul was tearing loose like the

sapling. It stabbed through him like spears of fire, concentrating on the punctures in his flesh where

Damon's teeth had sunk in. Agony flamed up his jaw and cheek and down his chest and shoulder. He felt

a wave of vertigo and realized he was losing consciousness.

Then, abruptly, the hands released him and he fell to the ground, onto a bed of damp and moldering oak

leaves. Gasping for breath, he painfully got to his hands and knees.

"You see, little brother, I'm stronger than you. Strong enough to take you, take your blood and your life

if I wish it. Leave Elena to me, or I will."

Stefan looked up. Damon was standing with head thrown back, legs slightly apart, like a conqueror

putting his foot on the neck of the conquered. Those night-black eyes were hot with triumph, and Stefan's

blood was on his lips.

Hatred filled Stefan, such hatred as he had never known before. It was as if all his earlier hatred of

Damon had been a drop of water to this crashing, foaming ocean. Many times in the last long centuries he

had regretted what he had done to his brother, when he'd wished with all his soul to change it. Now he

only wanted to do it again.

"Elena is not yours," he ground out, getting to his feet, trying not to show what an effort it cost him. "And

she never will be." Concentrating on each step, putting one foot in front of the other, he began walking

away. His entire body hurt, and the shame he felt was even greater than the physical ache. There werebits of wet leaves and crumbs of earth adhering to his clothes, but he did not brush them off. He fought to

keep moving, to hold out against the weakness that lapped at his limbs.

You never learn, brother.

Stefan did not look back or try to reply. He gritted his teeth and kept his legs moving. Another step.

And another step. And another step.

If he could just sit down for a moment, rest…

Another step, and another step. The car couldn't be far now. Leaves crackled under his feet, and then

he heard leaves crackle behind him.

He tried to turn quickly, but his reflexes were almost gone. And the sharp motion was too much for him.

Darkness filled him, filled his body and his mind, and he was falling. He fell forever into the black of

absolute night. And then, mercifully, he knew no more.Elena hurried toward Robert E. Lee, feeling as if she'd been away from it for years. Last night seemed

like something from her distant childhood, barely remembered. But she knew that today there would be

its consequences to face.

Last night she'd had to face Aunt Judith. Her aunt had been terribly upset when neighbors had told her

about the murder, and even more upset that no one seemed to know where Elena was. By the time Elena

had arrived home at nearly two in the morning, she had been frantic with worry.

Elena hadn't been able to explain. She could only say that she'd been with Stefan, and that she knew he

had been accused, and that she knew was innocent. All the rest, everything else that had happened, she

had had to keep to herself. Even if Aunt Judith had believed it, she would never have understood.

And this morning Elena had slept in, and now she was late. The streets were deserted except for her, as

she hurried on toward the school. Overhead,, the sky was gray and a wind was rising. She desperately

wanted to see Stefan. All night, while she'd been sleeping so heavily, she'd had nightmares about him.

One dream had been especially real. In it she saw Stefan's pale face and his angry, accusing eyes. He

held up a book to her and said, "How could you, Elena? How could you?" Then he dropped the book at

her feet and walked away. She called after him, pleading, but he went on walking until he disappeared in

darkness. When she looked down at the book, she saw it was bound in dark blue velvet. Her diary.

A quiver of anger went through her as she thought again of how her diary had been stolen. But what did

the dream mean? What was in her diary to make Stefan look like that?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she needed to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms around

her. Being away from him was like being separated from her own flesh.She ran up the steps of the high school into the nearly empty corridors. She headed toward the

foreign-language wing, because she knew that Stefan's first class was Latin. If she could just see him for a

moment, she would be all right.

But he wasn't in class. Through the little window in the door, she saw his empty seat. Matt was there,

and the expression on his face made her feel more frightened than ever. He kept glancing at Stefan's desk

with a look of sick apprehension.

Elena turned away from the door mechanically. Like an automaton, she climbed the stairs and walked to

her trigonometry classroom. As she opened the door, she saw every face turn toward her, and she

slipped hastily into the empty desk beside Meredith.

Ms. Halpern stopped the lesson for a moment and looked at her, then continued. When the teacher had

turned back to the blackboard, Elena looked at Meredith.

Meredith reached over to take her hand. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

"I don't know," said Elena stupidly. She felt as if the very air around her was smothering her, as if there

were a crushing weight all around her. Meredith's fingers felt dry and hot. "Meredith, do you know what's

happened to Stefan?"

"You meanyou don't know?" Meredith's dark eyes widened, and Elena felt the weight grow even more

crushing. It was like being deep, deep under water without a pressure suit.

"They haven't… arrested him, have they?" she said, forcing the words out.

"Elena, it's worse than that. He's disappeared. The police went to the boarding house early this morning

and he wasn't there. They came to school, too, but he never showed up today. They said they'd found his

car abandoned out by Old Creek Road. Elena, they think he's left, skipped town, because he's guilty."

"That's not true," said Elena through her teeth. She saw people turn around and look at her, but she was

beyond caring. "He's innocent!"

"I know you think so, Elena, but why else would he leave?"

"He wouldn't. He didn't." Something was burning inside Elena, a fire of anger that pushed back at the

crushing fear. She was breathing raggedly. "He would never have left of his own free will."

"You mean someone forced him? But who? Tyler wouldn't dare—"

"Forced him, or worse," Elena interrupted. The entire class was staring at them now, and Ms. Halpern

was opening her mouth. Elena stood up suddenly, looking at them without seeing. "God help him if he's

hurt Stefan," she said. "Godhelp him." Then she whirled and made for the door.

"Elena, come back! Elena!" She could hear shouts behind her, Meredith's and Ms. Halpern's. She

walked on, faster and faster, seeing only what was straight ahead of her, her mind fixed on one thing.

They thought she was going after Tyler Smallwood. Good. They could waste their time running in the

wrong direction. She knew what she had to do.

She left the school, plunging into the cold autumn air. She moved quickly, legs eating up the distancebetween the school and the Old Creek Road. From there she turned toward Wickery Bridge and the

graveyard.

An icy wind whipped her hair back and stung her face. Oak leaves were flying around her, swirling in the

air. But the conflagration in her heart was searing hot and burned away the cold. She knew now what a

towering rage meant. She strode past the purple beeches and the weeping willows into the center of the

old graveyard and looked around her with feverish eyes.

Above, the clouds were flowing along like a lead-gray river. The limbs of the oaks and beeches lashed

together wildly. A gust threw handfuls of leaves into her face. It was as if the graveyard were trying to

drive her out, as if it were showing her its power, gathering itself to do something awful to her.

Elena ignored all of it. She spun around, her burning gaze searching between the headstones. Then she

turned and shouted directly into the fury of the wind. Just one word, but the one she knew would bring

him.

"Damon!"

Don't miss the exciting continuation of

The Vampire Diaries

Volume II: THE STRUGGLE

One

"Damon!"

Icy wind whipped Elena's hair around her face, tearing at her light sweater. Oak leaves swirled among

the rows of granite headstones, and the trees lashed their branches together in a frenzy. Elena's hands

were cold, her lips and cheeks numb, but she stood facing the screaming wind directly, shouting into it.

"Damon!"

This weather was a show of his power, meant to frighten her away. It wouldn't work. The thought of that

same power being turned against Stefan woke a hot fury inside her that burned against the wind. If

Damon had done anything to Stefan, if Damon had hurt him…

"Damn you, answer me!" she shouted at the oak trees that bordered the graveyard.

A dead leaf like a withered brown hand skittered up to her foot, but there was no answer. Above, the

sky was gray as glass, gray as the tombstones which surrounded her. Elena felt rage and frustration stingher throat and she sagged. She'd been wrong. Damon wasn't here after all; she was alone with the

screaming wind.

She turned and gasped.

He was just behind her, so close that her clothes brushed his as she turned. At that distance, she should

have sensed another human being standing there, should have felt his body-warmth or heard him. But of

course Damon wasn't human.

She reeled back a couple of steps before she could stop herself. Every instinct that had lain quiet while

she shouted into the violence of the wind was now begging her to run.

She clenched her fists. "Where's Stefan?"

A line appeared between Damon's dark eyebrows. "Stefan who?"

Elena stepped forward and slapped him.

She had no thought of doing it before she did it, and afterward she could scarcely believe what she had

done. But it was a good hard slap, with the full force of her body behind it, and it snapped Damon's head

to one side. Her hand stung. She stood, trying to calm her breath, and watched him.

He was dressed as she had first seen him, in black. Soft black boots, black jeans, black sweater, and

leather jacket. And he looked like Stefan. She didn't know how she could have missed that before. He

had the same dark hair, the same pale skin, the same disturbing good looks. But his hair was straight, not

wavy, and his eyes were black as midnight, and his mouth was cruel.

He turned his head slowly back to look at her and she saw blood rising in the cheek she'd slapped.

"Don't lie to me," she said, her voice shaking. "I know who you are. I knowwhat you are. You killed

Mr. Tanner last night. And now Stefan's disappeared."

"Has he?"

"You know he has!"

Damon smiled, and then turned it off instantly.

"I'm warning you; if you've hurt him—"

"Then, what?" he said. "What will you do, Elena? Whatcan you do, against me?"

Elena fell silent. For the first time she realized that the wind had died away. The day had gone deadly

quiet around them, as if they stood motionless at the center of some great circle of power. It seemed as if

everything, the leaden sky, the oaks and purple beeches, the ground itself, was connected to him, as if he

drew power from all of it. He stood with his head tilted back slightly, his eyes fathomless and full of

strange lights.

"I don't know," she whispered, "but I'll find something. Believe me."

He laughed suddenly and Elena's heart jerked and began pounding hard. God, he was beautiful.Handsome was too weak and colorless a word. As usual, the laughter lasted only a moment, but even

when his lips had sobered it left traces in his eyes.

"I do believe you," he said, relaxing, looking around the graveyard. Then he turned back and held out a

hand to her. "You're too good for my brother," he said casually.

Elena thought of slapping the hand away, but she didn't want to touch him again. "Tell me where he is."

"Later, possibly—for a price." He withdrew his hand.

"My brother," he went on, "is a fool. He thinks that because you look like Katherine you're weak and

easily led like her. But he's wrong. I could feel your anger from the other side of town. I can feel it now, a

white light like the desert sun. You're strong, Elena, even as you are. But you could be so much

stronger…"

She stared at him, not understanding, not liking the change of subject. "I don't know what you're talking

about. And what has it got to do with Stefan?"

"I'm talking about power, Elena." Suddenly, he stepped close to her, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice

soft and urgent. "You've tried everything else, and nothing has satisfied you. You're the girl who has

everything, but there's always been something just out of your reach, something you need desperately and

can't have. That's what I'm offering you. Power. Eternal life. And feelings you've never felt before."

Shedid understand, then, and bile rose in her throat. She choked on horror and repudiation. "No."

"Why not?" he whispered. "Why not try it, Elena? Be honest, isn't there a part of you that wants to?" His

dark eyes were full of a heat and intensity that held her transfixed, unable to look away. "I can waken

things inside you that have been sleeping all your life. You're strong enough to live in the dark, to glory in

it. You can become a queen of the shadows. Why not take that power, Elena? Let me help you take it."

"No," she said, wrenching her eyes away from his. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't let him do this to

her. She wouldn't let him make her forget… make her forget…

"It's the ultimate drug, Elena," he said. His voice was as caressing as the fingertips which touched her

throat. "The ultimate secret. You'll be happy as never before."

There was something terribly important she must remember. He was using Power to make her forget it,

but she wouldn't let him make her forget…

"And we'll be together, you and I." The cool fingertips stroked the side of her neck, slipping under the

collar of her sweater. "Just the two of us, forever."

There was a sudden twinge of pain as his fingers brushed two tiny wounds in the flesh of her neck there,

and her mind cleared.

Make her forget…Stefan .

That was what he wanted to drive out of her mind. The memory of Stefan, of his green eyes and his

smile that always had sadness lurking Behind it. But nothing could force Stefan out of her thoughts now,

not after what they had shared. She pulled away from Damon, knocking those cool fingertips aside. She

looked straight at him."I've already found what I want," she said brutally. "And who I want to be with forever."

Blackness welled up in his eyes, a cold rage that swept through the air between them. Looking into those

eyes, Elena thought of a cobra about to strike.

"Don't you be as stupid as my brother is," he said. "Or I might have to treat you the same way."

She was frightened now, she couldn't help it, not with cold pouring into her, chilling her bones. The wind

was picking up again, the branches tossing. "Tell me where he is, Damon."

"At this moment? I don't know. Can't you stop thinking about him for an instant?"

"No!" She shuddered, hair lashing about her face again.

"And that's your final answer, today? Be very sure you want to play this game with me, Elena. The

consequences are nothing to laugh about."

"Iam sure." She had to stop him before he got to her again. "And you can't intimidate me, Damon, or

haven't you noticed? The moment Stefan told me what you were, what you'd done, you lost any power

you might have had over me. Ihate you. You disgust me. And there's nothing you can do to me, not any

more."

His face altered, the sensuousness twisting and freezing, becoming cruel and bitterly hard. He laughed,

but this laugh went on and on. "Nothing?" he said. "I can doanything to you. You have no idea, Elena, of

what I can do. But you'll learn."

He stepped back and the wind cut through Elena like a knife. Her vision seemed to be blurring—it was

as if flecks of brightness filled the air in front of her eyes.

"Winter is coming, Elena," he said, and his voice was clear and chilling even over the howl of the wind.

"An unforgiving season. Before it's over you'll have learned what I can and can't do. Before winter is over

you'll have joined me. You'll be mine."

The swirling whiteness was blinding her and now even his voice was fading. She could no longer see the

dark bulk of his figure. She hugged herself with her arms, head bent down, her whole body shaking. She

whispered, "Stefan—"

"Oh, and one more thing," his voice came back. "You asked earlier about my brother. Don't bother

looking for him, Elena. I killed him last night."

Her head jerked up, but there was nothing to see, only the dizzying whiteness, which burned her nose

and cheeks and clogged her eyelashes. It was only then, as the fine grains settled on her skin that she

realized what they were.

Snowflakes. It was snowing on the first of November. Overhead, the sun was gone.An unnatural twilight hung over the abandoned graveyard. Snow blurred Elena's eyes and the wind

numbed her body as if she'd stepped into a current of ice water. Nevertheless, stubbornly, she did not

turn around toward the modern cemetery and the road beyond it. As best she could judge, Wickery

Bridge was straight in front of her. She headed for that.

The police had found Stefan's abandoned car by the Old Creek Road. That meant he'd left it

somewhere between Drowning Creek and the woods. Elena stumbled on the overgrown path through

the graveyard, but she kept moving, head down, arms hugging her light sweater to her. She had been

born in Fell's Church, she had known this graveyard all her life, and she could find her way through it

blind.

By the time she crossed the bridge her shivering had become painful. It wasn't snowing as hard now, but

the wind was even worse. It cut through her clothes as if they were made of tissue paper, and took her

breath away.

Stefan, she thought, and turned onto Old Creek Road, trudging northward. She didn't believe what

Damon had said. If Stefan were dead she wouldknow . He was alive, somewhere, and she had to find

him. He could be anywhere out in this swirling whiteness, he could be hurt, freezing. Dimly, Elena sensed

that she wasn't rational any longer. All her thoughts had narrowed down to one single idea. Stefan. Find

Stefan.

It was getting harder to keep to the road. On her right were oak trees, on her left, the swift waters of

Drowning Creek. She staggered and slowed. The wind didn't seem quite so bad anymore, but she did

feel very tired. She needed to sit down and rest, just for a minute.

As she sank down beside the road she suddenly realized how silly she had been to go out searching for

Stefan. Stefan would come to her. All she needed to do was sit here and wait. He was probably coming

right now.

Elena shut her eyes and leaned her head against her drawn-up knees. She felt much warmer now. Her

mind drifted and she saw Stefan, saw him smile at her. His arms around her were strong and secure and

she relaxed against him, glad to let go of fear and tension. She was home, she was where she belonged.

Stefan would never let anything hurt her.

But then instead of holding her, Stefan was shaking her. He was ruining the beautiful tranquility of her

rest. She saw his face, pale and urgent, his green eyes dark with pain. She tried to tell him to be still, but

he wouldn't listen.

Elena, get up, he said, and she felt the compelling force of those green eyes willing her to do it.

Elena, get up now—

"Elena, get up!" The voice was high and thin and frightened. "Come on, Elena! Get up! We can't carry

you!"

Blinking, Elena brought a face into focus.

"Bonnie," she said slowly. "What are you doing here?""Helping me look for you," said a second, lower voice, on Elena's other side. She turned slightly.

Meredith's dark eyes, usually so ironic, were worried now, too. "Stand up, Elena, unless you want to

become an Ice Princess for real."

There was snow all over her. Stiffly, Elena stood, leaning heavily on the two other girls. They walked her

back to Meredith's car.

It should have been warmer inside the car, but Elena's nerve endings were coming back to life, telling her

how cold she really was. Winter is an unforgiving season, she thought, as Meredith drove.

Aunt Judith was waiting inside, with blankets. "I knew if they found you you'd be half-frozen," she said in

a determinedly cheerful voice as she reached for Elena. "Snow on the day after Halloween! I can hardly

believe it. Where did you girls find her?"

"On the Old Creek Road, past the bridge," said Meredith.

Aunt Judith's thin face lost color. "Near the graveyard? Where the attacks were? Elena, howcould

you…" Her voice trailed off as she looked at Elena. "We won't say anything more about it right now,"

she said, trying to regain her cheerful manner. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

"I have to go back once I'm dry," said Elena. Her brain was working again and one thing was clear. She

hadn't really seen Stefan out there; it had been a dream. Stefan was still missing.

"You have to do nothing of the kind," said Robert, Aunt Judith's fiancé. Elena had scarcely noticed him

until then, standing quietly to one side. But his tone brooked no argument. "The police are looking for

Stefan, you leave them to their job," he said.

"The police think he killed Mr. Tanner. But he didn't. You know that, don't you?" As Aunt Judith pulled

her sodden outer sweater off, Elena looked from one face to another for help, but they were all the same.

"Youknow he didn't doit ," she repeated, almost desperately.

There was a silence. "Elena," Meredith said at last, "no one wants to think he did. But—well, it looks

bad, his running away like this."

"He didn't run away. He didn't! Hedidn't —"

"Elena, hush," said Aunt Judith. "Don't get yourself worked up. I think you must be getting sick, it was so

cold out there, and you only got a few hours of sleep last night…" She laid a hand on Elena's cheek.

"I'm not sick," she cried, pulling away. "And I'm not crazy, either, whatever you think. Stefan didn't run

away and he didn't kill Mr. Tanner, and I don't care if none of you believes me…" She Stopped,

choking. Aunt Judith was fussing around her, hurrying her upstairs, and she let herself be hurried. But she

wouldn't go to bed when Aunt Judith suggested she must be tired. Instead, she sat on the living room

couch, by the fireplace, with blankets heaped around her. The phone rang all afternoon, and she heard

Aunt Judith talking to friends, neighbors, the school. She assured all of them that Elena was fine.

The—the tragedy last night had unsettled her a bit, that was all, and she seemed a little feverish. But she'd

be good as new after a rest.

Meredith and Bonnie sat beside her. "Do you want to talk?" Meredith said in a low voice. Elena shook

her head, staring into the fire. They were all against her. And Aunt Judith was wrong; she wasn't fine. She

wouldn't be fine until Stefan was found.Meredith and Bonnie and Aunt Judith and Robert tried to make conversation while they ate an early

supper sitting by the fire. Elena couldn't eat and wouldn't talk. The only one who wasn't miserable was

Elena's little sister Margaret. With four-year-old optimism she cuddled up to Elena and offered her some

of her Halloween candy. Elena hugged her hard, face pressed into Margaret's white-blond hair for a

moment. If Stefan could have called her or gotten a message to her he would have done it by now.

Nothing in the world would have stopped him, unless he were badly hurt, or trapped somewhere, or…

She wouldn't let herself think about that last "or." Stefan was alive, he had to be alive. Damon was a liar.

But Stefan was in trouble, and she had to find him somehow. She worried about it all through the

evening, desperately trying to come up with a plan. One thing was clear; she was on her own. She

couldn't trust anyone.

It grew dark. Elena shifted on the couch and forced a yawn.

"I'm tired," she said quietly. "Maybe I am sick, after all. I think I'll go to bed."

Meredith was looking at her keenly. "I was just thinking, Miss Gilbert," she said, turning to Aunt Judith,

"that maybe Bonnie and I should stay the night. To keep Elena company."

"What a good idea," said Aunt Judith, pleased. "As long as your parents don't mind, I'd be glad to have

you."

"It's a long drive back to Herron. I think I'll stay, too," Robert said. "I can just stretch out on the couch

here." Elena sat stonily, after looking once from the couch to the hall where the front door stood plainly in

view. They'd planned this between them, or at least they were all in on it now. They were making sure

she didn't leave the house.

When she emerged from the bathroom a little while later, wrapped in her red silk kimono, she found

Meredith and Bonnie sitting on her bed.

"Well, hello, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," she said bitterly.

Bonnie, who had been looking depressed, now looked alarmed. She glanced at Meredith doubtfully.

"She knows who we are. She means she thinks we're spies for her aunt," Meredith interpreted. "Elena,

you should realize that isn't so. Can't you trust us at all?"

"I don't know. Can I?"

"Yes, because we're yourfriends ." Before Elena could move Meredith jumped off the bed and shut the

door. Then she turned to face Elena. "Now, for once in your life listen to me, you little idiot. It's true we

don't know what to think about Stefan. But, don't you see, that's your own fault. Ever since you and he

got together you've been shutting us out. Things have been happening that you haven't told us about. At

least you haven't told us the whole story. But in spite of that, in spite of everything, we still trust you. We

still care about you. We're still behind you, Elena, and we want to help. And if you can't see that, then

youare an idiot."

Slowly, Elena looked from Meredith's dark, intense face to Bonnie's pale one. Bonnie nodded."It's true," she said, blinking hard as if to, keep back tears. "Even if you don't like us, we still likeyou ."

Elena felt her own eyes fill. "I'm sorry if I haven't been talking to you," she said. "I know you don't

understand, and I can't even explain why I can't tell you anything. I justcan't . But there's one thing I can

tell you." She stepped back, wiping her cheeks, and looked at them earnestly. "No matter how bad the

evidence against Stefan looks,he didn't kill Mr. Tanner . I know he didn't, because I know who did.

And it's the same person who attacked Vickie, and the old man under the bridge."

Bonnie shook her head dazedly. Meredith said, "Why don't you tell the police?"

Elena's laugh was slightly hysterical. "I can't. It's not something they can deal with. And that's another

thing I can't explain. You said you still trusted me; well, you'll just have to trust me about that."

Bonnie and Meredith looked at one another, then at the bedspread, where Elena's nervous fingers were

picking a thread out of the embroidery. Finally Meredith said, "All right. What can we do to help?"

"I don't know. Nothing, unless…" Elena stopped and looked at Bonnie. "Unless," she said, in a changed

voice, "you can help me find Stefan."

Bonnie's brown eyes were genuinely bewildered. "Me? But what can I do?" Then at Meredith's indrawn

breath, she said, "Oh.Oh ."

"You knew where I was that day I went to the cemetery," said Elena. "And you even predicted Stefan's

coming to school."

"I thought you didn't believe in all that psychic stuff," said Bonnie weakly.

"I've learned a thing or two since then. Anyway, I'm willing to believeanything if it'll help find Stefan. If

there's any chance at all it will help."

Bonnie was hunching up, as if trying to make her already tiny form as small as possible. "Elena, you don't

understand," she said wretchedly. "I'm not trained, it's not something I can control. And… and it's not a

game, not anymore. The more you use those powers, the more they useyou . Eventually, they can end up

using you all the time, whether you want it or not. It'sdangerous ."

Elena got up and walked to the cherrywood dresser, looking down at it without seeing it. At last she

turned.

"You're right; it's not a game. And I believe you about how dangerous it can be. But it's not a game for

Stefan, either. Bonnie, I think he's out there, somewhere, terribly hurt. And there's nobody to help him,

nobody's even looking for him, except his enemies. He may be dying right now. He—he may even be…"

Her throat closed. She bowed her head over the dresser and made herself take a deep breath, trying to

steady herself. When she looked up she saw Meredith was looking at Bonnie.

Bonnie had straightened her shoulders, sitting up as tall as she could. Her chin was high and her mouth

was set. And in her normally soft brown eyes a grim light shone as they met Elena's.

"We need a candle," was all she said.The match rasped and threw sparks in the darkness, and then the candle flame burned strong and bright.

It lent a golden glow to Bonnie's pale face as she bent over it.

"I'm going to need both of you to help me focus," she said. "Look into the flame and think about Stefan.

Picture him in your mind. No matter what happens, keep on looking at the flame. And whatever you do,

don't say anything."

Elena nodded, and then the only sound in the room was soft breathing.Stefan , thought Elena, gazing into

the flame, trying to pour all her will into the thought. She created him in her mind, using all her senses,

conjuring him to her. The roughness of his woolen sweater under her cheek, the smell of his leather

jacket, the strength of his arms around her. Oh, Stefan…

Bonnie's lashes fluttered and her breathing quickened, like a sleeper having a bad dream. Elena

resolutely kept her eyes on the flame, but when Bonnie broke the silence a chill went up her spine.

At first it was just a moan, the sound of someone in pain. Then, as Bonnie tossed her head, breath

coming in short bursts, it became words.

"Alone…" she said, and stopped. Elena's nails bit into her hand. "Alone… in the dark," said Bonnie. Her

voice was distant and tortured.

There was another silence, and then Bonnie began to speak quickly.

"It's so dark and cold. And I'm alone. There's something behind me… jagged and hard. Rocks. They

used to hurt—but not now. I'm numb now, from the cold. So cold…" Bonnie twisted, as if trying to get

away from something, and then she laughed, a dreadful laugh almost like a sob. "That's—funny. I never

thought I'd want to see the sun so much. But it's always dark here. And cold. Water up to my neck, like

ice. That's funny, too. Water everywhere—and me dying of thirst. So thirsty… hurts…"

Elena felt something tighten around her heart. Bonnie was inside Stefan's thoughts, and who knew what

she might discover there?Stefan, tell us where you are , she thought desperately.Look around, tell me

what you see .

"Thirsty. I need… life?" Bonnie's voice was doubtful, as if not sure how to translate some concept. "I'm

weak. He said I'll always be the weak one. He's strong… a killer. But that's what I am, too. I killed

Katherine; maybe I deserve to die. Why not just let go…"

"No!" said Elena, before she could stop herself. "Stefan—"

"Elena!" Meredith cried sharply at the same time. But Bonnie's head fell forward, the flow of words cut

off. Horrified, Elena realized what she had done.

"Bonnie, are you all right? Can you find him again? I didn't mean to…"

Bonnie's head lifted. Her eyes were open now, but they looked at neither the candle nor at Elena. They

stared straight ahead, expressionless. When she spoke, her voice was distorted, and Elena's heart

stopped. It wasn't Bonnie's voice, but it was a voice Elena recognized. She'd heard it coming from

Bonnie's lips once before, in the graveyard.

"Elena," the voice said, "don't go to the bridge. It's death, Elena. Death is waiting there." Then Bonnie

slumped bonelessly.Elena grabbed her shoulders and shook. "Bonnie!" she almost screamed. "Bonnie!"

Look for another terrifying thriller from' Nicholas Adams,

bestselling author ofHorror High.

I. O. U.

One

Midnight. There was no moon, and the stars were gone. Silence clung to her. For a heartbeat, Sharon

did not know where she was. Then, as a chill wind ruffled her hair, she recognized the woods.

The nightmare was back again.

She looked around, feeling the panic began as a dull throb in her chest. The same dead trees, branches

clawing for the skies: leafless, lifeless, but somehow malicious. Like skeletons with evil eyes, all watching

her. The ground underfoot was herd and dry. Any grasses or flowers had died and withered long ago. All

that were left were roots and stones, all cold, hard, and warning for her to begin to run.

Sharon's heart began to pound, and she could feel the adrenaline pumping. Her breaths were short,

forming trails of mist about her face. She wore only her nightdress, as always, and the air was cold and

damp. Despite this, a thin trickle of sweat crawled down her back. She rubbed at it, feeling her hand go

clammy at the touch. Her gaze darted about her, but nothing moved—yet.

This was the way that it always began. And it always ended the same way, with her—

A sound!

She twisted around, vainly trying to make out something, anything, in those disjointed trees. She tried to

call out, but her throat wouldn't obey her mind. She could feel her heart speeding up, pounding. Her

breath hissed in and out of her nostrils, the only thing she could now hear. Wildly, she darted her eyes all

across the eerie landscape. Nothing.

Wavering, she took a step backward. Her ankle caught on a root, and she almost lost her balance. She

looked down, but there was nothing to see. She could barely make out the white shape of her naked

feet.

They were there.

Sharon knew it, even though she couldn't see them. They had arrived, and were there, in the woods,somewhere. The man, the dark man, with his brooding eyes and slow, steady tread. And… the other.

The un-man, the shapelessthing that plucked at the edge of her mind and refused ever to be seen.

Backing up another step, something grabbed at her long, blonde hair. This time she found her voice, and

screamed, pulling forward. The twigs from the tree jerked free from her hair, as she spun to face her

attacker. Just a tree.

This time.

Again, she felt that they were watching her, waiting for her nerve to break. Waiting for her to run. But

this time, she wouldn't do it. This time she would be strong. She wrapped her right arm about her chest,

as if pulling a cloak over her flimsy clothing. The chill from the ground was numbing her toes. Wriggling

them, she tried to fight off the cold. Slowly, hesitantly, feeling ahead with her extended left hand, she

started to walk. Shewould not run! Not this time.

Her fingers touched something cold, clammy, andalive . With a start, she drew back. Nothing

happened, but she could feel something icky on her fingertips. She peered ahead, and could make out

some sort of fungus growth on a tree. She had put her hand into that. Ugh! Her fingers felt filthy,

contaminated, but there was nowhere to wipe them except her filmy nightgown. She didn't want to do

that, and get the gross stuff even closer to her body. What could she do?

She could feel their eyes, watching, waiting, looking for her reaction. Trying to stay rational, Sharon bent

down in the darkness, feeling out with her itching left hand for something, anything. Her fingers closed on

something hard and rounded. As she started to rub the fungus-stuff onto whatever it was, the object

suddenly came to life, skittering away from her. With a scream, she shot back upright, her chest heaving.

Without conscious thought, she pulled her left hand close, smearing her fingers onto the gown.

Terrific. She could sense the contaminated spot, where it touched her thigh. It made her skin crawl, just

knowing it was there. And she could smell the stuff now, a rancid odor of decay, sickly, and growing

stronger.

She took a step forward, but of course the smell moved with her. It was the stench of death, she knew,

of something rotting, and she had touched it…

The icy caress of the breeze stirred at her again, slipping beneath her nightdress and brushing her skin. A

shock passed up her body, and she shivered. It was impossible to get warm.

Unless she ran. And she wouldn't do that.

Something crawled across her foot. Something chittering, with dozens of tiny, fast-moving feet. She

screamed, and tried to kick it away. Something else, wavering, hesitant, reached out to touch her other

foot. She spun around, choking back tears, and bony fingers grabbed her hair. She'd backed into the grip

of one of the trees! With a sob, she pulled herself free.

The scampering things in the darkness started to move again, and her skin crawled. Insects, bugs, all

after her because she was warm and the only living thing in these woods.

Forgetting her resolve, Sharon turned and ran.

She tried to protect her face from the stinging blows of the branches and twigs. She could feel the lashing

of these icy fingers, and she was getting scratched and bruised. She felt the trickling of blood now, mixingwith the film of sweat. Her feet pounded across the uneven ground, stumbling over the rocks and roots

that tried to grab at her and pull her down to the dead soil. Her breathing was short, hard, burning pants

now, as she strove to fight down the terror welling up within.

Blindly, she dashed onward. She fought off the clutching branches, heedless of the scrapes she was

getting. Her legs felt dozens of tiny scratches from the brambles and thorns. She knew she was filthy,

bloody and soaked with perspiration. The twigs tore at the nightdress, dragging at it as she ran, ripping

bits of fabric from her only protection. But she couldn't stop. Not now.

Her chest and lungs burned with every short, coughing breath she took. She could feel the punishment

the soles of her feet were taking as she ran across the jagged stones and twisting roots. Arms flailing, she

ran, the terror growing within her. She wanted to scream, but she had no breath to spare for that.

It was a hunt, she knew: her pursuers were in no rush. They wanted her exhausted, ready to break,

before they closed in. But knowing it and being able to do anything to fight it were not the same thing.

After all, she knew that this was a dream, but the terror and the lacerations felt very real indeed.

Finally, she could go on no more. For one last time, she stumbled, and now she fell. She couldn't even

feel the extra pain as she crashed to the ground. She did manage to force one arm under her shaking

body, and levered herself into a sitting position beneath a skeletal tree. The branches over her head felt

the bars of a cage, and she knew that she was trapped.

Every breath she took burned clear down to her stomach, and she could never take in enough air. She

brushed the long hairs from her eyes, and stared out into the darkness.

He was there, watching. Though there was no real light, she could see something burning redly in his

eyes as he stared at her. It was the same man as always—tall, dark, with long, untidy hair flapping in the

breeze. His skin was pale, his red eyes sunken. She took all of this in without thinking, because her eyes

were drawn to the blade he held.

It wasn't a normal knife. It was more like a cake knife, with a narrow blade that flattened out, then came

to a sharp point. Dimly, she knew she had seen something like this knife before, and that it was

important. But she couldn't place it. Besides which, this wasn't the time for cold, analytical thought.

This was when she died.

A slow smile crossed the man's face, twisting it unevenly. He had caught her thought, could scent her

panic and utter weariness. He took a step forward, and she tried to crawl away. But the tree behind her

held her firm. The blade rose, ready.

If it was only death that she had to face, she would almost welcome it at this point. The panic had built to

fever pitch, and she knew that dying of fright wasn't simply an expression. The thumping of her heart

against her rib cage told her that it was almost ready to burst. But death was only the start of it…

Behind her killer, still hardly there, was the Unseen. It lurked, just on the edges of vision, shifting,

hungering, waiting. It was the force behind the man, the predator waiting for its next victim to be

delivered. It was ravenous, waiting to devour her, body and soul.

Death would be only the beginning of her agonies...!!!