The Vampire Diaries #9: Moonsong (The Hunters #2)（2012）

Chapter Ten

The pub where Elena and Damon ended up was lively and full of people, but of course Damon made sure they didn't have to wait for a table. He lounged across one side of the booth, looking as arrogant and relaxed as a big gorgeous cat, and listened peaceably as Elena talked. Elena found herself gaily chatting away, filling him in on all the minutia of her campus life so far, from finding out that Professor Campbell knew her parents to the personalities of the other students she'd met in her classes.

"The elevator was really crowded, and slow, and my lab partner's back was against the buttons. Somehow she accidental y pushed the alarm button, and the alarm started going off." Elena took a sip of her soda. "Suddenly, a voice came out of nowhere and asked, 'Do you have an emergency?' And she said, 'No, it was an accident,' and the voice said, 'What? I can't hear you.' It went on like that, back and forth, until she started shouting 'Accident!

Accident!'"

Damon stopped tracing patterns in the condensation on his glass with one finger and glanced up at her through his lashes, his lips twitching into a smile.

"When the doors opened on the ground floor, there were four security men standing there with a medical kit," Elena finished. "We didn't know what to do, so we just walked past them. When we got out of the building, we started to run. It was so embarrassing, but we couldn't stop laughing." Damon let his slight smile expand into a grin - not his usual cool twist of the lips or his brief, brilliant, and enigmatic there-then-gone smile, but an honest-to-God cheek-puffing, eye-squinching grin. "I like you like this," he said suddenly.

"Like what?" Elena asked.

"Relaxed, I suppose. Ever since we met, you've been in the middle of some crisis or another." He raised his hand and brushed a curl away from her face, gently touching her cheek.

Elena was vaguely aware of the waiter standing by the booth, waiting for them to look up, as she answered with just a touch of flirtation, "Oh, and I suppose you had nothing to do with that?"

"I wouldn't say I am the one who's been most to blame, no," Damon said coolly, his grin fading. He looked up, his eyes sharp and knowing. "Hel o, Stefan." Elena froze in surprise. Not the waiter, then. Stefan. One look at him, and she winced, her stomach dropping. His face could have been carved from stone. He was looking at Damon's hand, still stretched across the table toward Elena.

"Hey," she said tentatively. "How was your study group?" Stefan stared at her. "Elena, I've been looking everywhere for you. Why didn't you answer your phone?" Pulling out her phone, Elena saw that there were several messages and texts from Stefan. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't hear it ring."

"We were supposed to meet," Stefan said stiffly. "I came to your room and you were just gone. Elena, people have been disappearing all over campus." He had been scared, afraid that something terrible had happened to her. His eyes were still anxious. She started to reach out to comfort him. The fact that she'd lost the Power she'd had so briefly was hard for Stefan to accept, she knew. He thought her mortality made her fragile, and he was afraid he'd lose her. She should have thought it through, should have left him more of a message than a quick text saying she would return soon.

Before she could touch him, Stefan's gaze turned to Damon. "What's going on?" he asked his brother, his voice full of frustration. "Is this why you followed us to college? To zero in on Elena?"

The look of hurt that crossed Damon's face was only a subtle shadow and was gone so quickly that Elena wasn't entirely sure she had actual y seen it. His features settled into an expression of lazy disdain, and Elena tensed. The peace between the brothers was so fragile - she knew that - and yet she had let Damon flirt with her. She'd been so stupid.

"Someone should be keeping her safe, Stefan," Damon drawled. "You're too busy playing human again, aren't you?

Study groups." He lifted an eyebrow scornfully. "I'm surprised you've even noticed that there's something going on around this campus. Would you rather have Elena alone and in danger than have her spending time with me?" Tense lines were forming around Stefan's mouth.

"You're saying you don't have an ulterior motive here?" he asked.

Damon waved a hand disparagingly. "You know what I feel for Elena. Elena knows what I feel for Elena. Even that sports-loving Mutt of yours knows how things are between us. But the problem isn't me, little brother - it's you and your jealousy. Your wanting to be an 'ordinary human'" - Damon made quote marks with his fingers - "and still carry on with Elena, who is hardly ordinary. You want to have your cake and eat it, too. I haven't done anything wrong. Elena wouldn't have come with me if she didn't want to." Elena winced again. Was this the way it was always going to be? Was any minor misstep on her part going to set Damon and Stefan at each other's throats? "Stefan...

Damon," she implored, but they ignored her.

They were glaring at each other. Stefan stepped closer, flexing his fists, and Damon clenched his jaw, silently daring Stefan to make a move. For the first time, Elena saw a resemblance between them.

"I can't do this," she said. Her voice sounded small and soft to her own ears, but both Salvatore brothers heard her and whipped their heads toward her with inhuman speed.

"I can't do this," she said again, louder and more firmly this time. "I can't be Katherine."

Damon scowled. "Katherine? Believe me, darling, nobody here wants you to be Katherine." Stefan, his face softening, said, "Elena, sweetheart - " Elena interrupted him. "Listen to me." She wiped her eyes. "I've been walking on eggshells, trying to keep this -

this thing between the three of us from tearing us apart. If anything good has come out of all the stuff that's happened, it's that you found each other, you started being brothers again. I can't - " She took a deep breath and tried to find a sensible matter-of-fact voice somewhere inside herself.

"I think we should take a break," she said flatly. "Stefan, I love you so much. You're my soul mate, you're it for me.

You know that." She looked up at him pleadingly, silently begging him to understand.

Then her eyes moved past him to Damon, who was staring at her with a furrowed brow. "And Damon, you're part of me now. I ... feel for you." She looked back and forth between them, her hands clutching each other. "I can't lose either of you. But I need to figure out who I am now, after everything that's happened, and I need to do it without worrying about destroying the relationship between you.

And you need to figure out how you can be friends with each other, even if I'm in both of your lives." Damon let out a skeptical noise, but Elena kept talking.

"I'll understand" - she gulped - "if you can't wait for me. But I will always, always love you. Both of you. In different ways.

But for now, I just can't be with you. Either of you." She was tearing up again, and her hands shook as she wiped her eyes.

Damon leaned across the table, a small twisted smile hovering on his lips. "Elena, did you just break up with both of us?"

The tears dried up instantly. "Damon, I never dated you," she said angrily.

"I know," he replied, and shrugged. "But I've definitely just been dumped." He glanced at Stefan, then quickly away, his expression closed off.

Stefan looked devastated. For a moment, his face was so bleak that it wasn't hard to believe he was more than five hundred years old. "Whatever you want, Elena," he said. He started to reach for her, then pulled his own hand back to his side. "No matter what, I will always love you. My feelings aren't going to change. Take whatever time you need."

"Okay," Elena said. She stood up shakily. She felt like she was going to be sick. Half of her wanted to pull Stefan to her, kiss him until that broken expression on his face went away. But Damon was watching her, his own face inscrutable, and touching either of them felt ... wrong. "I need to be by myself for a while," she told them.

At any other time, she knew, both of them would have objected to the idea of her walking the campus alone. They would have argued, followed her if she wouldn't walk with them - anything to keep her safely under their protection.

Now, though, Stefan moved aside to let her out of the booth, his head bowed. Damon sat very stil and watched her go, his eyes hooded.

Elena didn't look back at them as she crossed to the door of the pub. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were brimming with tears once more. But she also felt as if she'd carried something very heavy for a while and had final y been able to put it down.

This might be the best choice I've made in a long, long time, she thought.

Dear Diary,

Every time I remember the look on Stefan's face when I told him I needed space, my chest aches. It's like I can't breathe.

I never wanted to hurt Stefan. Never. How could I? We're so close, so wrapped up in each other that he's like a piece of my soul - without him, I'm not complete.

But...

I love Damon, too. He's my friend - my dark mirror image - the clever, plotting one who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants, but who has a kindness deep inside him that not everybody sees. I can't imagine living without Damon, either.

Stefan wants to hold on to me so tightly. He cares for his brother - he does - and Damon cares for him, too, and having me between them is messing that up.

All three of us have been held so closely together by the crises we've had to deal with recently - my death and rebirth, Klaus's attack, Damon's return from the edge of death, the phantom's attack - that every move we've made, every thought we've had, has been wrapped up with the other two. We can't go on like this.

I know I've done the right thing. Without me between them, they can become brothers again.

And then I can sort out the tangled threads of my relationships with both of them without having to worry that any move I make will snap the tenuous bond between us.

It's the right decision. But still, I feel like I'm dying a slow death. How can I live for even a little while without Stefan?

All I can do is try to be strong. If I just keep going, I'll get through this time. And in the end, everything will be wonderful. It has to be.

Chapter Eleven

"Coffee, my dear?" Professor Campbell - James, Elena reminded herself - asked. At her nod, he bounced to his feet and bustled over to the tiny coffeemaker perched on top of a teetering stack of papers.

He brought her a cup of coffee, creamed and sugared, and settled down happily in his chair, gazing across his crowded desk at her with an expression of innocent enjoyment. "I think I have some cookies," he offered. "Not homemade, but they're reasonably tasty. No?" Elena shook her head politely and sipped her coffee.

"It's very good," she said, and smiled at him.

It had been a few days since she had told Stefan and Damon she needed to take a break from them. After a much-needed sob session with Bonnie and Meredith, she had done her best to be normal - going to class, having lunch with her friends, keeping up a brave mask. Part of this attempt at normality was coming to James's office hours, so that she could hear more about her parents. Even though they couldn't be there to comfort her, talking about them offered some solace.

"My God!" James cried out. "You have Elizabeth's face, and then, when you smile, Thomas's dimple comes right out. Just the same as his - on only one side. It gave him a certain raffish charm."

Elena wondered if she should thank James. He was complimenting her, in a way, but the compliments were real y directed toward her parents, and it felt a little presumptuous to be grateful for them.

She settled for saying, "I'm glad you think I look like my parents. I remember thinking when I was little that they were very elegant." She shrugged. "I guess al little kids think their parents are beautiful."

"Well, your mother certainly was," James said. "But it's not just your looks. Your voice sounds like hers, and the comments you made in class this week reminded me of things your father would have said. He was very observant." He delved into his desk drawers and, after a bit of rummaging, pulled out a tin of butter cookies. "Sure you won't have one? Ah, Well." He chose one for himself and took a bite. "Yes, as I was saying, Elizabeth was extremely lovely. I wouldn't have called Thomas lovely, but he had charm. Maybe that's how he managed to win Elizabeth's heart in the end."

"Oh." Elena stirred her coffee absently. "She dated other guys, then?" It was ridiculous, but she had kind of imagined her parents as always being together.

James chuckled. "She was quite the heartbreaker. I imagine you are, too, dear."

Elena thought unhappily of Stefan's soft, dismayed green eyes. She had never wanted to hurt him. And Matt, who she had dated in high school and who had quietly gone on loving her. He hadn't fallen in love, or even been really interested in, anyone else since then. Heartbreaker, yeah.

James was watching her with bright, inquisitive eyes.

"Not a happy heartbreaker, then?" he said softly. Elena glanced at him in surprise, and he set his coffee cup down with a little clink. He straightened up. "Elizabeth Morrow," he said in a brisk businesslike voice, "was a freshman when I met her. She was always making things, particularly amazing sets and costumes she designed for the theater department. Your father and I were both sophomores at the time - we were in the same fraternity, and close friends -

and he couldn't stop talking about this amazing girl. Once I got to know her, I was sucked into her orbit, too." He smiled. "Thomas and I each had something special about us: I was academically gifted, and Thomas could talk anyone into anything. But we were both cultural barbarians.

Elizabeth taught us about art, about theater, about the world beyond the small Southern towns where we'd grown up." James ate another cookie, absentmindedly licking sugar off his fingers, then sighed deeply. "I thought we'd be friends forever," he said. "But we went in different directions in the end."

"Why?" Elena asked. "Did something happen?" His bright eyes shifted away from hers. "Of course not," he said dismissively. "Just life, I suppose. But whenever I walk down the third-floor corridor, I can't help stopping to look at the photograph of us." He gave a self-conscious laugh, patting his stomach. "Mostly vanity, I suppose. I recognize my young self more easily than I do the fat old man I see in the mirror now."

"What are you talking about?" Elena asked, confused.

"The third-floor corridor?"

James's mouth made a round O of surprise. "Of course, you don't know all the college traditions yet. The long corridor on the third floor of this building has pictures from all the different periods of Dalcrest's history. Including a nice photo of your parents and yours truly."

"I'll have to check it out," Elena said, feeling a little excited. She hadn't seen many pictures of her parents from before they were married.

There was a tap on the door, and a small girl with glasses peeked in. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, and started to withdraw.

"No, no, my dear," James said jovially, getting to his feet. "Elena and I were just chatting about old friends. You and I need to have a serious talk about your senior thesis as soon as possible. Come in, come in." He gave Elena an absurd little half bow. "Elena, we'll have to continue this conversation later."

"Of course," Elena said, and rose, shaking James's offered hand.

"Speaking of old friends," he said casually as she turned to go, "I met a friend of yours, Dr. Celia Connor, just before the semester started. She mentioned that you were coming here."

Elena whipped back around, staring at him. He had met Celia? Images filled Elena's mind: Celia held in Stefan's arms as he traveled faster than any human, desperate to save her life; Celia fending off the phantom in a room full of flames. How much did James know? What had Celia told him?

James smiled blandly back at her. "But we'll talk later," he said. After a moment, Elena nodded and stumbled out of his office, her mind racing. The girl who was waiting held the door open for her.

In the hall outside, Elena leaned against the wall and took stock for a moment. Would Celia have told James about Stefan and Damon being vampires, or anything about Elena herself? Probably not. Celia had become a friend by the end of their battle with the phantom. She would have kept their secrets. Plus, Celia was a very savvy academic. She wouldn't have told her colleagues anything that might make them think she was crazy, including that she had met actual vampires.

Elena shook off the unease she felt from the end of her conversation with James and thought instead of the picture he'd told her about. She climbed the stairs to the third floor to see if she could find it now.

It turned out that the "third-floor corridor" was no problem to find. While the second floor was a maze of turning passageways and faculty offices subdivided from one another, when she stepped out of the stairWellon the third floor she discovered it was a long hall that ran from one end of the building to the other.

In contrast to the chatter of people at work on the second floor, the third floor seemed abandoned, silent and dim. Closed doors sat at regular intervals along the hall .

Elena peered through the glass on one door, only to see an empty room.

Al down the hall , between the doors, hung large photographs. Near the stairWell, where she began looking, they seemed like they were from maybe the turn of the century: young men in side-combed hair and suits, smiling stiffly; girls in high-necked white blouses and long skirts with their hair pulled up on top of their heads. In one, a row of girls carried garlands of flowers for some forgotten campus occasion.

There were photos of boat races and picnics, couples dressed up for dances, team pictures. In one photo, the cast of some student play - maybe from the 1920s or '30s, the girls with shingled flapper cuts, the guys with funny covers over their shoes - laughed hilariously on stage, their mouths frozen open, their hands in the air. A little farther on, a group of young men in army uniforms gazed back at her seriously, jaws firmly set, eyes determined.

As she moved on down the hall , the photos changed from black-and-white to color; the clothes got less formal; the hairstyles grew longer, then shorter; messier, then sleeker. Even though most of the people in the photographs looked happy, something about them made Elena feel sad.

Maybe it was how fast time seemed to pass in them: all these people had been Elena's age, students like her, with their own fears and joys and heartbreaks, and now they were gone, grown older or even dead.

She thought briefly of a bottle tucked deep in her closet at home, containing the water of eternal life she'd accidentally stolen from the Guardians. Was that the answer? She pushed the thought away. It wasn't the answer yet - she knew that - and she'd made the very clear choice not to think about that bottle, not to decide anything, not now. She had time, she had more life to live naturally before she'd want to ask herself that question.

The picture James talked about was close to the far end of the hall . In it, her father, her mother, and James were sitting on the grass under a tree in the quad. Her parents were leaning forward in eager conversation, and James - a much thinner version, his face almost unrecognizable beneath a straggly beard - was sitting back and watching them, his expression sharp and amused.

Her mother looked amazingly young, her face soft, her eyes wide, her smile big and bright, but she was also somehow exactly the mother Elena remembered. Elena's heart gave a painful but happy throb at the sight of her. Her father was gawkier than the distinguished dad Elena had known - and his pastel-patterned shirt was a fashion disaster of epic proportions - but there was an essential dadness to him that made Elena smile.

She noticed the pin on his horrific pastel shirt first. She thought it was a smudge, but then, leaning forward, she made out the shape of a small , dark blue V. Looking at the other figures, she realized her mother and James were wearing the same pins, her mother's half-obscured by a long golden curl falling across it.

Weird. She tapped her finger slowly against the glass over the photograph, touching one V and then the others.

She would ask James about the pins. Hadn't he mentioned that he and her dad had been in a fraternity? Maybe it had something to do with that. Didn't frat boys "pin" their girlfriends?

Something nudged at the edges of her mind. She'd seen one of these pins somewhere. But she couldn't remember where, so she shrugged it off. Whatever it stood for, it was something she didn't know about her parents, another facet of their lives to be discovered here.

She couldn't wait to learn more.

Chapter Twelve

"Good practice," Christopher said, stopping next to Matt as he headed out of the locker room. "You've got some great moves, man."

"Thanks," Matt said, glancing up from putting on his shoes. "You were looking pretty good out there yourself." He could tell Christopher was going to be a solid team-mate, the kind of guy who did his job and focused on the big picture, working to help the rest of the team. He was a great roommate, too, generous and laid-back. He didn't even snore.

"Want to skip the dining hall and order a pizza?" Christopher asked. "This is my night to beat you at Guitar Hero - I can feel it."

Matt laughed. In the couple of weeks they'd been living together, he and Christopher had been working their way through all the Wii games Christopher had brought with him to school. "Al right, I'll see you back at the room." Christopher slapped him on the back, grinning widely.

After Christopher left, Matt took his time getting his things together, letting the other guys get out of the locker room ahead of him. He felt like walking back to the dorm alone tonight. They were a nice bunch of guys, but he was sore and tired. Between football practices and Vitale Society pledge activities, he'd never worked his body quite so hard.

It felt good.

He felt good. Even the stupidest of the Vitale activities - and some of them were pretty stupid: they'd had to work in teams to build houses out of newspaper the other night -

were kind of fun, because he was getting to know some amazing people. Ethan had been right. As a group, the pledges were smart, determined, talented, everything you'd expect. And he was one of them.

His classes were interesting, too. Back in high school he'd gotten okay grades but had mostly just done what he had to do to pass. The Civil War, geometry, chemistry, To Kill a Mockingbird: al his schoolwork had sort of blended into the background of his real life of friends and sports.

Some of what he was doing at Dalcrest was like that, too, but in most of his classes, he was starting to see connections between things. He was getting the idea that history, language, science, and literature were all parts of the same thing - the way people thought and the stories they told - and it was really pretty interesting.

It was possible, Matt thought, with a self-mocking grin, that he was "blossoming" in college, just like his high school guidance counselor had predicted.

It wasn't fully dark yet, but it was getting late. Matt sped up, thinking about pizza.

There weren't a lot of people roaming the campus. Matt guessed they were either in the cafeteria or holed up in their rooms, afraid. He wasn't worried, though. He figured there were a lot more vulnerable targets than a football player.

A breeze started up, waving the branches of the trees on the quad and wafting the smell of grass to Matt. It still felt like summer. In the bushes, a few early-evening fireflies blinked on and off. He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the stretch after a long practice.

Up ahead, someone screamed. A guy, Matt thought.

The cry cut off suddenly.

Before he could even think, Matt was running toward the sound. His heart was pounding, and he tried to force his tired legs to move faster. That was a sound of pure panic, Matt thought. He strained his ears but didn't hear anything except his own ragged breaths.

As he came around the business building, a dark figure that had been bent over something in the grass took off, its long skinny legs flying. It was moving fast, and its face was completely concealed by a hoodie. Matt couldn't even see if it was a guy or a girl.

He angled his own stride to race after the figure in black but came to a sudden halt by the shape in the grass.

Not just a shape. For a moment, Matt's mind refused to process what he was seeing. The red and gold of a football jersey. Wet, thick liquid spreading across it. A familiar face.

Then everything snapped into focus. He dropped to his knees. "Christopher, oh no, Christopher." There was blood everywhere. Matt frantically felt at Christopher's chest, trying to figure out where he could put pressure to try to stop the bleeding. Everywhere, everywhere, it's coming from everywhere. Christopher's whole body was shaking, and Matt pressed his hands against the soaking football jersey to try to hold him still .

Fresh blood ran in thick crimson streams against the brighter red of the jersey's material.

"Christopher, man, hold on, it's going to be okay. You'll be okay," Matt said, and pulled out his phone to dial 911.

His own hands were covered with blood now, and the phone was a slimy mess as he held it to his ear.

"Please," he said, his voice shaking, "I'm at Dalcrest College, near the business building. My roommate, someone attacked my roommate. He's bleeding a lot. He's not conscious." The 911 operator started to ask him some questions and Matt tried to focus.

Suddenly Christopher opened his eyes, taking a deep gulp of air.

"Christopher," Matt said, dropping his phone. "Chris, they're sending an ambulance, hold on." The shaking got worse, Christopher's arms and legs vibrating in a rapid rhythm. His eyes settled on Matt's face, and his mouth opened.

"Chris," Matt said, trying to hold him down, trying to be gentle, "who did this? Who attacked you?" Christopher gasped again, a hoarse gulping sound.

Then the shaking stopped, and he was very still . His eyelids slid down over his eyes.

"Chris, please hold on," Matt begged. "They're coming.

They'll help you." He grabbed at Christopher, shook him a little, but Christopher wasn't moving, wasn't breathing.

Sirens sounded in the distance, but Matt knew the ambulance was already too late.

Chapter Thirteen

Bonnie clutched the banana-nut muffin to her chest as if it was some kind of sacred offering. She just could not bring herself to knock on Matt's door. Instead, she turned big pleading brown eyes on Meredith and Elena.

"Oh, Bonnie," Meredith muttered, reaching past her, shifting the pile of bagels and the carton of orange juice she was carrying, and rapping loudly on the door.

"I don't know what to say," Bonnie whispered back, agonized.

Then the door opened, and Matt appeared, red-eyed and pale. He seemed somehow smaller and more hunched into himself than Bonnie had ever seen him. Overwhelmed with pity, she forgot all about being nervous and launched herself into his arms, dropping the muffin in the process.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out, tears running down her face. Matt held on to her tightly, bending over and burying his head in her shoulder. "It's okay," she said final y, desperately, patting the back of his head. "I mean, no, it's not ... of course it's not ... but we love you, we're here."

"I couldn't help him," Matt said dully, his face still pressed against Bonnie's neck. "I tried my best, but he died anyway."

Elena and Meredith joined them, wrapping their arms around Matt from either side.

"We know," Elena said, rubbing his back. "You did everything you could for him."

Matt pulled out of their arms eventual y and gestured around the room. "All this stuff is his," he said. "His parents don't feel like they're ready to clear out his things yet, they told the police. It's killing me to see it all still here when he's not. I thought about packing it up for his parents, but there's a possibility that the police might want to look through his stuff."

Bonnie shuddered at the thought of what Christopher's parents must be going through.

"Have something to eat," Meredith said. "I bet you haven't eaten for ages. Maybe it'll help you feel better." Al three girls fussed around, fixing the breakfast they'd brought for Matt, then convincing him to taste something, anything. He drank some juice and picked at a bagel, his head lowered. "I was at the police station all night," he said.

"I had to keep going over and over what happened."

"What did happen?" Bonnie asked tentatively.

Matt sighed. "I real y wish I knew. I just saw somebody dressed in black running away from Christopher. I wanted to chase him, but Chris needed my help. And then he died. I tried, but I couldn't do anything." His forehead creased into a frown. "The real y weird thing, though," he said slowly, "is that, even though I saw a person running away, the police think Christopher was attacked by some kind of animal. He was ... pretty ripped up."

Elena and Meredith exchanged an alert glance. "A vampire?" said Meredith. "Or a werewolf, maybe?"

"I was wondering about that," Matt admitted. "It makes sense." Without seeming to notice, he finished his bagel, and Elena took advantage of his distraction to slip some fruit onto his plate.

Bonnie wrapped her arms around herself. "Why?" she asked. "Why is it that, wherever we go, weird, scary things happen around us? I thought that once we left Fell 's Church things would be different."

No one argued with her. For a little while, they all sat quietly, and Bonnie felt as if they were huddling together, trying to protect themselves from something cold and horrible.

Finally, Meredith reached out and took an orange slice off Matt's plate. "The first thing we need to do, then, is to investigate and try to figure out if these attacks and disappearances are supernatural." She chewed thoughtful y. "As much as I hate to say it, we should probably get Damon on this. He's good at this kind of thing. And Stefan should know what's going on, too." She looked at Elena, her voice gentle. "I'll talk to them, okay, Elena?" Elena shrugged. Bonnie could tell she was trying to keep her expression blank, but her lips were trembling. "Of course," she said after a minute. "I'm sure they're both checking things out anyway. You know how paranoid they are."

"Not without reason," Meredith said dryly.

Matt's eyes were wet. "Whatever happens, I need you to promise me something," he said. "Please, be careful. I can't - let's not lose anyone else, okay?" Bonnie snuggled closer to him, putting her hand on his.

Meredith reached over and placed her hand over both of theirs, and Elena added hers to the pile. "We'll take care of one another," Elena said.

"A vow," said Bonnie, trying to smile. "We'll always watch out for one another. We'll make sure everyone is safe."

At that moment, as they murmured in agreement, she was sure they could do it.

Meredith pivoted and stepped forward, swinging her staff down to strike at Samantha's heavily padded knees.

Samantha dodged the blow, then jabbed her own staff straight toward Meredith's head. Meredith blocked the blow, then thrust her staff at Samantha's chest.

Samantha staggered backward and lost her footing.

"Wow," she said, rubbing her collarbone and looking at Meredith with a mixture of resentment and appreciation.

"That hurt, even with the padding. I've never trained with anyone so strong before."

"Oh, Well," Meredith said modestly, feeling absurdly pleased, "I practice a lot."

"Uh-huh," Samantha said, eyeing her. "Let's take a break." She flopped down on the mat, and Meredith, her staff balanced lightly in one hand, sat beside her.

It wasn't her staff, of course, not her special hunting one.

She couldn't bring her heirloom slayer staff to the gym - it was too clearly a customized deadly weapon. But she'd been delighted to learn that Samantha could fight with a four-foot-long jo staff and that she had an extra.

Samantha was quick and smart and fierce, one of the best sparring partners she'd ever had. Fighting, Meredith was able to block out the helpless feeling she'd had in Matt's room this morning. There was something so pathetic about seeing al Christopher's things sitting there ready for him, when he was never coming back. He had one of those weird little fake Zen gardens on his desk, the sand neatly groomed. Maybe just the day before, Christopher had picked up the tiny rake in his hand and smoothed the sand, and now he'd never touch anything again.

And it was her fault. Meredith squeezed her staff, her knuckles whitening. She had to accept that. If she had the power of being a potent force against darkness, a hunter and slayer of monsters, she had the responsibility, too.

Anything that got through and killed someone in her territory was Meredith's failure and her shame.

She had to work harder. Practice more, go out patrolling the campus, keep people safe.

"Are you all right?" Samantha's voice broke through Meredith's thoughts. Startled, Meredith saw Samantha staring at her with wide, solemn dark eyes, taking in Meredith's gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"Not entirely," said Meredith dryly. "Um." She felt like she had to explain her grimness. "Did you hear about what happened last night, the guy who was killed?" Samantha nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "Well, he was the roommate of a real y good friend of mine. And I was with my friend today, trying to help him. It was ... upsetting." Samantha's face seemed to harden, and she scrambled up on her knees. "Listen, Meredith," she said, "I promise you this isn't going to happen again. Not on my watch."

"On your watch?" Meredith asked mildly. Suddenly, it felt hard to breathe.

"I have responsibilities," Samantha said. She dropped her eyes to her hands. "I'm going to catch this killer."

"It's a big job," Meredith said. It wasn't possible, was it?

But Samantha was such a good fighter, and what she was saying ... why would she think she was responsible for stopping the killer? "What makes you think you can do it?" she asked.

"I know this is difficult to believe, and I shouldn't even be telling you, but I need your help." Samantha was looking straight into her eyes, practical y vibrating with earnestness.

"I'm a hunter. I was raised to... I have a sacred trust. All my family for generations, we've fought against evil. I'm the last of us. My parents were killed when I was thirteen." Meredith gasped, shocked, but Samantha shook her head fiercely, pushing Meredith's sympathy away. "They hadn't finished training me," she continued, "and I need you to help me get better, get faster. I'm not strong enough yet." Meredith stared at her.

"Please, Meredith," Samantha said. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. People are depending on me." Unable to stop herself, Meredith started to laugh.

"It's not a joke," Samantha said, jumping to her feet, her fists clenched. "This is... I shouldn't have said anything." She stalked toward the door, her back as straight as a soldier's.

"Samantha, wait," Meredith called. Samantha whirled back toward her with a face full of fury. Meredith took a quick breath and tried desperately to remember something she'd learned as a child but never had occasion to use.

Crooking her pinkies together, she drew up her thumbs to make a triangle, the secret sign of greeting between two hunters.

Samantha just stared at her, face perfectly blank.

Meredith wondered if she remembered the sign correctly.

Had Samantha's family even taught it to her? Meredith knew there were other families out there, but she had never met any of them before. Her parents had left the hunter community before she was born.

Then Samantha, moving as quickly as she ever had when they'd sparred, was before her, gripping her arms.

"For real?" Samantha said. "Are you serious?" Meredith nodded, and Samantha threw her arms around her and clutched her tightly. Her heart was beating so hard that Meredith could feel it. Meredith stiffened at first - she wasn't the touchy-feely type, despite being best friends with wildly affectionate Bonnie for years - but then relaxed into the hug, feeling Samantha's slim, muscular body under her arms, so like her own.

She had the strangest feeling of familiarity, as if she had been lost and had now found her true family at last.

Meredith knew she could never say any of that, and part of her felt like she was betraying Elena and Bonnie just by thinking that way, but she couldn't help it. Samantha pulled away, smiling and weepy, wiping at her eyes and nose.

"I'm acting stupid," she said. "But this is the best thing that ever happened to me. Together, we can fight this." She gave a half-hysterical sniff and gazed at Meredith with huge shining eyes. "I feel like I've made a new best friend," she said.

"Yes," Meredith said - not weeping, not laughing, cool as ever on the outside but, inside, feeling like she was breaking into happy pieces - "yes, I think you're right."

Chapter Fourteen

Matt hunched his shoulders miserably. He had come to the pledge meeting because he didn't want to stay in his room alone, but now he wished he hadn't. He'd been avoiding Elena, Meredith, and Bonnie - it wasn't their fault, but so much violence had happened around all four of them in the past year, so much death. He'd thought it might be better being around other people, people who hadn't seen how much darkness there was in the world, but it wasn't.

He felt almost like he was swathed in bubble wrap, thick and cloudy. As the other pledges moved and talked, he could watch them and hear them, but he felt separated from them; everything seemed muffled and dim. He felt fragile, too, as if removing the protective layer might make him fall apart.

As he stood in the crowd of pledges, Chloe came over and stood next to him, touching his arm reassuringly with her small , strong hand. A gap appeared in the bubble wrap, and he could really feel her with him. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it gratefully.

The pledge meeting was in the wood-paneled underground room where they'd first met. Ethan assured them this was just one of many secret hideouts - the others were only open to fully initiated members. Matt had discovered by now that even this pledge room had several entrances: one through an old house just outside campus, which must have been the one they brought them through that first time, one through a shed near the playing fields, and one through the basement of the library. The ground beneath the campus must be honeycombed with tunnels for so many entrances to end up in one place, he thought, and he had an unsettling picture of students walking on the sun-warmed grass while, a few inches below, endless dark tunnels opened underneath them.

Ethan was talking, and Matt knew that usually he would have been hanging on his every word. Today, Ethan's voice washed over Matt almost unheard, and Matt let his eyes follow the black-clad, masked figures of the Vitale members who paced the room behind Ethan. Dully, he wondered about them, about how the masks disguised them Wellenough that he was never sure if he recognized any of them around campus. Any of them except Ethan, that is. Matt wondered curiously what made the leader immune to such restrictions. Like the tunnels beneath the campus, the anonymity of the Vitales was slightly unsettling.

Eventual y, the meeting ended, and the pledges started to trickle out of the room. A few patted Matt on the back or murmured sympathetic words to him, and he warmed as he realized that they cared, that somehow they'd come to feel like friends through all the silly pledge bonding activities.

"Hold up a minute, Matt?" Ethan was next to him suddenly. At Ethan's glance, Chloe squeezed Matt's arm again and let go.

"I'll see you later," she murmured. Matt watched as she crossed the room and went out the door, her hair bouncing against the back of her neck.

When he looked back at Ethan, Ethan's head was cocked to one side, his golden-brown eyes considering.

"It's good to see you and Chloe getting so close," Ethan declared, and Matt shrugged awkwardly.

"Yeah, Well..." he said.

"You'll find that the other Vitales are the ones who can understand you best," Ethan said. "They'll be the ones who will stand by you all through college, and for the rest of your life." He smiled. "At least, that's what's happened to me.

I've been watching you, Matt," he went on.

Matt tensed. Something about Ethan cut through the bubble-wrap feeling, but not in the comforting way Chloe did. Now Matt felt exposed instead of protected. The sharpness of his gaze, maybe, or the way Ethan always seemed to believe so strongly in whatever he was saying.

"Yeah?" Matt said warily.

Ethan grinned. "Don't look so paranoid. It's a good thing. Every Vitale pledge is special, that's why they're chosen, but every year there's one who's even more special, who's a leader among leaders. I can see that, in this group, it's you, Matt."

Matt cleared his throat. "Really?" he said, flattered, not knowing quite what to say. No one had ever called him a leader before.

"I've got big plans for the Vitale Society this year," Ethan said, his eyes shining. "We're going to go down in history.

We're going to be more powerful than we've ever been.

Our futures are bright."

Matt gave a half smile and nodded. When Ethan talked, his voice warm and persuasive, those golden eyes steady on Matt's, Matt could see it, too. The Vitales leading not just the campus but, someday, the world. Matt himself would be transformed from the ordinary guy he knew he had always been into someone confident and clear-eyed, a leader among leaders, like Ethan said. He could picture it all .

"I want you to be my right-hand man here, Matt," Ethan said. "You can help me lead these pledges into greatness." Matt nodded again and, Ethan's eyes on his, felt a flush of pride, the first good thing he'd felt since Chris's death.

He would lead the Vitales, standing by Ethan's side.

Everything would be better. The path was clear ahead.

Indeed, Keynes posited that economic activity was determined by aggregate demand. For the fifteenth time in half an hour, Stefan read the sentence without beginning to comprehend it.

It all just seemed so pointless. He'd tried to distract himself by investigating the murder on campus, but it had only made him more anxious that he couldn't be by Elena's side, seeing to it himself that she was safe. He closed the book and dropped his head into his hands.

Without Elena, what was he doing here?

He would have followed her anywhere. She was so beautiful it hurt him to look at her sometimes, like it hurt to stare into the sun. She shone like that sun with her golden hair and lapis lazuli eyes, her delicate creamy skin that held just the faintest touch of pink.

But there was more to Elena than beauty. Her beauty alone wouldn't have held Stefan's attention for long. In fact, her resemblance to Katherine had nearly driven him away.

But under her cool y beautiful exterior was a quicksilver mind that was always working, making plans, and a heart that was fiercely protective of everyone she loved.

Stefan had spent centuries searching for something to make him feel alive again, and he'd never felt as certain of anything as he did about Elena. She was it, the only one for him.

Why couldn't she be as sure of him? No matter what Elena said about Stefan being the one, the fact remained: the only two girls he'd loved in his long, long life both loved not just Stefan but his brother, too.

Stefan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, then shoved himself away from the desk. Maybe he was hungry. In a few quick strides, he crossed his white-painted room, through the mix of his own elegant possessions and the cheap school-issued furniture, and was out on the balcony. Outside, the night smelled of jasmine and car exhaust. Stefan reached tendrils of Power gently into the night, questing, feeling for ... something ...

there. A tiny mind quickened in response to his.

His hearing, sharper than a human's, picked up the faint whine of sonar, and a small , furry bat landed on the balcony railing, drawn in by his Power. Stefan picked it up, keeping up a gentle thrum of Power between his mind and the bat's, and it gazed at him tamely, its little fox face alert.

Stefan lowered his head and drank, careful not to take too much from the little creature. He grimaced at the taste and then released the bat, which flapped tentatively, a little dazed, then picked up speed and was lost again in the night.

He hadn't been terribly hungry, but the blood cleared his mind. Elena was so young. He had to remember that. She was still younger than he'd been when he became a vampire, and she needed time to experience life, for her path to lead her back to Stefan. He could wait. He had all the time in the world.

But he missed her so much.

Gathering his strength, he leaped from the balcony and landed lightly on the ground below. There was a flower bed there, and he reached into it, feeling petals as soft as silk.

A daisy, fresh and innocent. He plucked it and went back inside the dorm, using the front entrance this time.

Outside Elena's door, he hesitated. He could hear the slight sounds of her moving around in there, smell her distinctive, intoxicating scent. She was alone, and he was tempted to just knock. Maybe she was longing for him, just as he longed for her. If they were alone, would she melt into his arms despite herself?

Stefan shook his head, his mouth tight. He had to respect Elena's wishes. If she needed time apart, he could give her that. Looking at the white daisy, he slowly balanced it on top of Elena's doorknob. She would find the flower and know that it was from him.

Stefan wanted Elena to know that he could wait for her, if that was what she needed, but that he was thinking of her, always.

Chapter Fifteen

As she headed for the door of her dorm room, Elena rummaged through her bag, checking off a mental list: wallet, keys, phone, lip gloss, eyeliner, hairbrush, student ID. As she swung the door open, something fluttered to the ground.

A perfect white daisy had fallen to the floor. Elena reached down and picked it up. Turning it in her hand, she felt a sudden sharp ache in her chest. God, I miss Stefan.

She had no doubt the daisy was from him. It was just like him to let her know he was thinking of her while still respecting her space.

The ache in her chest was slowly replaced with a sweet glowing feeling. It seemed so silly and artificial to avoid talking to Stefan. She loved him. And, beyond that, he was one of her best friends. Elena pulled out her phone to call him.

And then she stopped. Taking a deep breath, she put the phone back into her bag.

If she talked to Stefan, she would want to see him. If she saw him, she would want to touch him. If she touched him, it would all be over. She would find herself falling into him, entangled in love. And then she would look up and see Damon's dark unfathomable eyes watching them and feel that pull toward him. And then the brothers would look at each other, and love and pain and fury would pass over their faces, and everything would start up again.

It had felt good to walk away from them for a while, even though it was heartbreaking and awful and terribly lonely, too. But, since then, Elena had felt a calm settle over her.

She wasn't happy, exactly - it was like she was covered with bruises, and if she wasn't careful, pain would flood over her as she remembered what she had done. But she also felt as if she had been holding her breath for weeks and now was able to exhale.

She knew that Stefan would be waiting for her when she was ready to face him again. Wasn't that what the daisy meant?

She tucked the flower inside her bag and set off down the hall , her heels clicking firmly. Elena was going to go out with her friends, she was going to have fun, and she wasn't going to think about Stefan, or Damon. Or even the disappearances, or Christopher's death. Elena sighed under the weight of it all . For days, they had been mourning, and now Elena and her friends needed to embrace life again. They deserved an evening of freedom. They needed to remember what they were fighting for.

"There she is," Elena heard Bonnie say as she entered the crowded bar. "Elena! Over here!"

Bonnie, Meredith, and a girl Elena didn't know were sitting at a small table near the dance floor. They had invited Matt to come out with them, but he'd said he had to study, his face politely closed off, and they knew he wasn't ready yet and that he needed some time alone.

Meredith, graceful and relaxed, gave Elena a cool smile in greeting and introduced her friend Samantha. Samantha was lean, bright eyed, and alert. She seemed like she had energy to spare, shifting from side to side, chatting without stopping.

Bonnie, too, was clearly on tonight and started talking as soon as Elena reached the table. Bonnie was brave, Elena thought. Christopher's death had shocked her, and she was as worried about Matt as any of them, but she would stick out her chin and smile and gossip and go on with life just as hard as she could, because they had decided that was what tonight would be about.

"I got you a Coke," Bonnie said. "They carded me, so I couldn't get anything else. Guess what?" She paused dramatically. "I called Zander, and he said he'd definitely try to make it here tonight. I can't wait for you guys to meet him!" Bonnie was practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement, red curls flipping everywhere.

"Who's Zander?" asked Samantha innocently.

Meredith gave Elena a sly glance. "You know, I'm not sure," she said with mock confusion. "Bonnie, tell us about him."

"Yes," Elena added, smirking. "I don't think you've mentioned him at all , have you?"

"Shut up, you guys," Bonnie said amiably, and, leaning over the table to Samantha, started to extol al of Zander's virtues to her fresh audience. Elena let her mind wander.

She'd heard it all , night after night in their dorm lately: Zander's eyes, Zander's smile, Zander's bashful charm, Zander's very hot bod (Bonnie's words). How Zander and Bonnie studied together in a tucked-away corner of the library and Zander brought Bonnie secret snacks even though it was totally against the library rules. The way they talked on the phone every night, the long velvety pauses when it seemed like Zander was on the verge of whispering something intimate, something no one but Bonnie could know, but then instead he would make a joke that made Bonnie laugh like crazy. There was something so sweet about Bonnie with a crush. Elena real y hoped this guy was worthy of her.

"He hasn't kissed me yet," Bonnie added, eyes wide.

"Soon, though. I hope."

"The very first kiss," Samantha said, and wiggled her eyebrows. "Maybe tonight?" Bonnie just giggled in response.

That ache was back in Elena's chest, and she pressed her hand against her sternum. During her first kiss with Stefan, the world had fallen away and there had been just the two of them, lips and souls touching. Everything had seemed so clear then.

She took a deep breath and willed away tears. She wasn't going to remember anything tonight; she was just going to have a good time with her friends.

Having Samantha there, Elena soon realized, was going to be a huge help with that. If it had been just Elena, Meredith, and Bonnie, they would have ended up discussing Christopher's murder and the disappearances on campus, combing obsessively over the very few things they knew and theorizing about everything they didn't. But with Samantha there, they had to keep the conversation light.

Somehow Bonnie got off the topic of wonderful Zander and on to palm reading. "Look," she said to Samantha.

"See the line that crosses down your palm, across the other three lines? That's a fate line, not everybody has that."

"What does it mean?" Samantha said, gazing at her own palm with great interest.

"Well," Bonnie said, her brow furrowing, "it changes direction a lot - see here? and here? - which means that your destiny is going to change because of outside forces influencing you."

"Hmm," Samantha said. "How about love? Wil I meet somebody amazing tonight?"

"No," Bonnie said slowly, and her voice changed, taking on a flat, almost metallic, tone. Elena glanced up quickly to see that Bonnie's pupils were dilated, her eyes looking away from Samantha's palm into the distance. "Not tonight.

But there's someone waiting for you who will change everything. You'll meet him soon."

"Bonnie," Meredith said sharply. "Are you okay?" Bonnie blinked, and her eyes snapped back into focus.

"Of course," she said, sounding confused. "What do you mean?"

Elena and Meredith exchanged a glance - had Bonnie slipped into a vision? Before they could question her, a whole group of guys was suddenly at their table, laughing, shouting, swearing. Elena frowned up at them.

"Hey, gorgeous," one said, staring down at Elena.

"Wanna dance?"

Elena started to shake her head, but another of the guys dropped into the seat next to Bonnie and threw his arm around her. "Hey," he said. "Did you miss me?"

"Zander!" Bonnie exclaimed, her cheeks pink with delight.

So this was Zander, Elena thought, and watched him covertly as his three friends settled at the table, too, introducing themselves cheerful y, seeming to make the maximum amount of noise dragging chairs over and jockeying to sit next to the girls. Zander was cute, sure, she had to admit that. Pale blond hair and a gorgeous smile.

She didn't real y like the way he was pulling Bonnie close, turning her head toward him, his hands running restlessly over her shoulders even as he talked over her head to his friends. It seemed real y possessive for a guy who hadn't even kissed her yet. Elena looked over at Meredith to see if she was thinking the same thing.

Meredith was listening, with an amused smile, to the guy next to her - Marcus, she thought his name was - Zander's friend with the shaggy brown hair, explaining his weight-lifting routine.

"Shots," another friend of Zander's said succinctly, joining them with a tray full of shot glasses. "Let's play quarters."

Bonnie giggled. "They're not al owed to serve us here. We're underage."

The guy grinned. "S'alright. I paid for them, not you."

"Wanna dance?" Spencer, the one who had asked Elena a minute before, said again, asking Samantha this time.

"Sure!" she said, and jumped to her feet. The two were quickly lost in the crowd on the dance floor.

"God, I was so drunk last night," the guy next to Elena, Jared, said, tipping his chair back on two legs and regarding her cheerful y. His friend on his other side gazed at him for a minute, then poured a shot into his lap.

"Hey!" In a moment, they were on their feet and shoving each other, the guy who had poured the drink laughing, Jared red-faced and angry.

"Knock it off, you guys," Zander said. "I don't want to get kicked out of here, too."

Too? Elena raised her eyebrows. This guy and his friends were definitely too wild for innocent little Bonnie.

Elena looked at Meredith again for confirmation, but she was still lost in jock world, now giving her opinion on the best weight training for martial arts.

Bonnie squealed with laughter and bounced a quarter directly into one of the shot glasses. Al the guys cheered.

"Now what?" she said breathlessly, her eyes bright.

"Now you choose someone to drink it," the guy who had brought the drinks said.

"Zander, of course," Bonnie said, and Zander gave her a long, slow smile that even Elena had to admit was devastating and drank, then winked at her as she laughed again.

Bonnie looked ... really happy. Elena couldn't remember the last time she had seen her laughing like this.

It must have been at least a year ago, before things had gone crazy in Fell 's Church.

Elena sighed and looked around the table. These guys were rowdy - tussling and shoving at one another - but they were friendly enough. And this was the kind of thing people did at col ege, wasn't it? If it made Bonnie happy, Elena ought to at least try to get along with them.

Samantha and Spencer came back to the table, both laughing, and Samantha collapsed in her seat. "No more," she said, raising her hands to fend him off. "I need a water break. You're a madman, you know that?"

"Wil you come dance with me, then?" Spencer said pleadingly to Elena, widening big brown puppy-dog eyes at her.

"He'll try to pick you up," Samantha warned. "And dip you. And spin you around. But don't worry, I'll be back out on that floor in no time."

"Pretty please?" Spencer said, making an even more pathetic face.

Bonnie laughed triumphantly as she bounced another quarter into the glass.

Dancing with a group of friends isn't betraying anyone, Elena thought. Besides, she was single now. Sort of, anyway. She should try to enjoy college, to embrace life.

Wasn't that the whole point of tonight? She shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

Chapter Sixteen

When Stefan walked by Elena's room again, the daisy was gone, and the subtle scent of her citrusy shampoo lingered in the hall way.

No doubt she was out with Meredith and Bonnie, and he could depend upon Meredith to protect her. He wondered if Damon was watching them, if he'd approach Elena. A bitter strand of envy curled in Stefan's stomach. It was hard being the good one sometimes, the one who would abide by the rules, while Damon did whatever he wanted.

He leaned back against the door to Elena's room.

There was a window across the hall , and as he watched the cold crescent of the moon sailing high in the sky, he thought of his silent room, of the books of economics and philosophy waiting for him.

No. He wasn't going back there. He couldn't be with Elena, but he didn't have to be alone.

Outside, there was a chill in the air for the first time since school had started; the sultry heat of a Virginia summer was final y giving way to autumn. Stefan hunched his shoulders and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.

Not real y knowing where he was going, Stefan headed off campus. Vague thoughts of hunting in the woods crossed his mind, but he wasn't hungry, just restless, and he turned away from the trail that led that way. Instead he wandered the streets of the small town around the college.

There wasn't much to do. There were a few bars hopping with college kids and a couple of restaurants, already closed up. Stefan couldn't imagine wanting to press into a hot and crowded bar right now. He wanted to be around people, maybe, but not too many, not too close, not close enough to sense the thrum of blood beneath their skins. When he was unhappy, like tonight, he could feel something hard and dangerous rising up inside him, and he knew he needed to be careful of the monster he carried within him.

He turned down another block, listening to the soft pad of his own steps against the sidewalk. Near the end of the street, a faint thud of music came from a dilapidated building whose buzzing neon sign read EDDIE'S BILLIARDS.

None of the few cars in the parking lot had a Dalcrest parking sticker. Clearly a townie spot, not a student one.

If Stefan hadn't had this burning, angry loneliness inside him, he wouldn't have gone in. He looked like a student - he was a student - and this didn't look like a place that welcomed students. But the ugly thing inside him stirred at the thought of maybe having a reason to throw a punch or two.

Inside, it was Welllit but dingy, the air thick and blue with smoke. An old rock song was playing on a jukebox in the corner. Six pool tables sat in the middle of the room, with small round tables around the sides, and a bar at the far end. Two of the pool tables and a few of the round tables were occupied by locals, who let their eyes drift over him neutrally and then turned away.

At the bar, Stefan saw a familiar back, a sleek dark head. Even though he'd been sure Damon would be following Elena, he wasn't surprised to see him. Stefan had reined his Power in, concentrating on his own misery, but he'd always been able to sense his brother. If he had thought about it, he would have known Damon was there.

Damon, equal y unsurprised, turned and tipped his glass to Stefan with a wry little grin. Stefan went over to join him.

"Hel o, little brother," Damon said softly when Stefan sat down. "Shouldn't you be holed up somewhere, crying over your loss of the lovely Elena?"

Stefan sighed and slumped on the barstool. Propping his elbows on the bar, he rested his head on his hands.

Suddenly, he was terribly tired. "Let's not talk about Elena," he said. "I don't want to fight with you, Damon."

"Then don't." Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Damon was up and out of his seat. "Let's play some pool." One thing about living for hundreds of years, Stefan knew, was that you had time to get real y good at things.

Versions of billiards had been around as long as he and Damon had, although he liked the modern version best - he liked the smell of the chalk and the squeak of the leather tip on the cue.

Damon's thoughts seemed to be running on the same track. "Remember when we were kids and we used to play billiart on the lawns of Father's palazzo?" he asked as he racked up the balls.

"Different game, though, back then," Stefan said. "Go ahead and break."

He could picture it clearly, the two of them fooling around when the adults were al inside, shoving the balls across the grass toward their targets with the heavy-headed maces, in a game that was a cross between modern pool and croquet. Back in those days, Damon was wild, prone to fights with stable boys and nights prowling the streets, but not yet as angry as he would be by the time they grew into young men. Back then, he let his adoring, more timid younger brother trail after him and have a share in his adventures.

Elena was right about one thing, he admitted to himself.

He liked hanging out with Damon, being brothers again.

When he'd spotted Damon at the bar just now, he'd felt a little lightening of the loneliness he was carrying around with him. Damon was the only person who remembered him as a child, the only person who remembered him alive.

Maybe they could be friends, without Katherine or Elena between them for a while. Maybe something good could come out of this.

Billiart, billiards, or pool, Damon had always liked playing. He was better than Stefan, and, after hundreds of years of practice, Stefan was pretty good.

Which was why Stefan was so surprised when Damon's break sent balls spinning merrily all over the table, but none into the pockets.

"What's up?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Damon as he chalked his own cue.

I've been watching the locals, Damon said silently.

There are a couple of slick hustlers in here. I want to draw them over to us. Hustle them for a change.

Come on, Damon added quickly when Stefan hesitated. It's not wrong to hustle hustlers. It's like killing murderers, a public service.

Your moral compass is seriously skewed, Stefan shot back at him, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling.

What was the harm, real y? "Two ball in the corner pocket," he added aloud. He made the shot and sank two more balls before intentional y scratching and stepping back to let Damon take his turn.

They went on like that, playing pretty Wellbut not too Well, careful to look like a couple of cocky college kids who knew their way around a pool cue but would be no challenge to a professional hustler. Damon's pretense of frustration when he missed a shot amused Stefan. Stefan had forgotten, it was fun to be part of Damon's schemes.

Stefan won by a couple of balls, and Damon whipped out a wallet full of money.

"You got me, man," he said in a slightly drunken voice that didn't sound quite like his own and held out a twenty.

Stefan blinked at him.

Take it, Damon thought at him. Something about the set of his jaw reminded Stefan again of the way Damon was when they were children, of the way he lied to their father about his misadventures, confident Stefan would back him up. Damon was trusting him without even thinking about it, Stefan realized.

Stefan smiled and slipped it into his back pocket. "Rack'em up again?" he suggested, and realized he was also pitching his voice a little younger, a little drunker, than he normally would.

They played another game, and Stefan handed the twenty back. "Another?" he asked.

Damon started to rack the balls, and then his hands slowed. He flicked a glance up at Stefan and then back down at the balls. "Listen," he said, taking a deep breath,

"I'm sorry for what's happening with Elena. If I - " He hesitated. "I can't just stop feeling the way I do about her, but I didn't mean to make things harder for you. Or for her." Stefan stared at him. Damon never apologized. Was he serious? "I - thank you," he said.

Damon looked past him and his mouth twitched into his sudden, brilliant smile. Bait taken, he said silently. So much for the heartfelt brother moment.

Two guys were coming toward them. One was short and slight with sandy hair, the other big, bulky, and dark.

"Hi," the shorter one said. "We wondered if you guys wanted to play teams, mix it up a little." His smile was bright and easy, but his eyes were shrewd and watchful. The eyes of a predator.

Their names were Jimmy and David, and they were real pros. They kept the games close, waiting until after the third game to suggest raising the stakes to make things a little more interesting.

"A hundred?" Jimmy suggested casual y. "I can just about do it, if you want."

"How about more?" Damon said, sounding drunk again.

"Stefan, you still got that five hundred in your wallet?" Stefan didn't, nowhere near it, but he didn't think he'd need to pay up. He nodded but, at a glance from Damon, played reluctant. "I don't know, Damon..." he said.

"Don't worry about it," Damon said expansively. "Easy money, right?"

Jimmy was watching them, his eyes alert. "Five hundred it is," he agreed, smiling.

"I'll break," Damon said, and went into action. After a moment, Stefan rested his pool cue against the wall . He wasn't going to get a chance to shoot, none of them were; Damon was moving with clockwork precision to pocket one ball after another.

He wasn't making any effort to hide that he and Stefan had been running a hustle, and Jimmy's and David's faces darkened dangerously as the last few balls rattled into their pockets.

"Pay up," Damon demanded sharply, setting down his cue.

Jimmy and David were moving toward them, scowling.

"You two think you're real smart, don't you?" David growled.

Stefan poised himself on both feet, ready to fight or run, whatever Damon wanted. They wouldn't have any trouble fending off these guys, but with the disappearances and attacks all over campus, he'd rather not call attention to themselves.

Damon, cool and relaxed, gazed at Jimmy and David, his hands open. "I think you want to pay us the money you owe us," he said calmly.

"Oh, that's what you think, do you?" Jimmy said sarcastically. He shifted his grip on his pool cue, and now he was holding it more like a weapon.

Damon smiled and unleashed a wave of Power into the room. Even Stefan, who was half expecting it, was chilled as Damon lifted his human mask for a moment, his black eyes cold and deadly. Jimmy and David staggered backward as if they'd been shoved by invisible hands.

"Okay, don't get upset," Jimmy said, his voice shaking.

David was blinking as if he had been slapped with a wet towel, clearly unsure of what had just happened. Jimmy opened his wallet and counted out five hundred dollars in fifties into Damon's hand.

"Now it's time for you to go home," Damon said softly.

"Maybe you don't want to play pool for a while." Jimmy nodded and didn't seem to be able to stop nodding, his head bobbing like it was on a spring. He and David backed away, moving quickly toward the door.

"Scary," Stefan commented. There was a hollow place inside his chest still , an empty ache of missing Elena, but he felt better than he had since that day she walked out the door alone. Tonight, he realized with a slight shock, he'd had fun with Damon.

"Oh, I'm a terror," Damon agreed lightly, pocketing all the money. Stefan raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't care about the money, but it was typical of Damon to assume it was his. Damon grinned. "Come on, little brother, I'll buy you a drink."

Chapter Seventeen

"That was amazing! Seriously," Bonnie said happily, skipping along with her hand in Zander's. "I am, like, the Queen of Quarters. Who knew I had this hidden talent?" Laughing, Zander threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "You are pretty awesome," he agreed. "Drinking games, visions, astrology. Any other skills I should know about?"

Snuggling against him, Bonnie frowned in mock concentration. "Not that I can think of. Just be aware of my general wonderfulness." His T-shirt was soft and worn, and Bonnie tilted her head a bit to rest her cheek against it. "I'm glad we got our friends together," she said. "I thought Marcus and Meredith really hit it off, didn't you? Not romantically, at all , which is good since Meredith has a super-serious boyfriend, but it was like they shared the same secret jock language. Maybe we can all hang out in a group again sometime."

"Yeah, Meredith and Marcus real y bonded over their workouts," Zander agreed, but there was a hesitation in his voice that made Bonnie stop walking and peer up at him sharply.

"Didn't you like my friends?" she asked, hurt. She and Meredith and Elena had always had what they privately called a "velociraptor sisterhood." Cross one of them and the other two would close in to protect her. Zander had to like them.

"No, I liked them a lot," Zander assured her. He hesitated, then added, "Elena seemed kind of ...

uncomfortable, though. Maybe we're not the kind of people she likes?"

Bonnie stiffened. "Are you calling my best friend a snob?" she asked.

Zander stroked her back appeasingly. "Sort of, I guess. I mean, nice, but just kind of a snob. The nicest kind of snob.

I just want her to like me."

"She's not a snob," Bonnie said indignantly. "And even if she was, she's got a lot to be a snob about. She's beautiful and smart and one of the best friends I've ever had. I'd do anything for her. And she'd do anything for me, too. So it doesn't matter if she's a snob," she concluded, glaring at him.

"Come here," Zander said. They were near the music building, and he pulled her into the lit alcove by the front door. "Sit with me?" he asked, settling on the brick steps and tugging her hand.

Bonnie sat down, but she was determined not to snuggle up to him again. Instead, she kept a distance between them and stared stubbornly out at the night, her jaw firmly set.

"Listen, Bonnie," Zander said, pushing a long strawberry blonde curl out of her eyes. "I'll get to know Elena better, and I'm sure I'll like her. I'll get her to like me, too. You know why I'm going to get to know her better?"

"No, why?" said Bonnie, reluctantly looking at him.

"Because I want to know you better. I'm planning on spending a lot of time with you, Bonnie McCullough." He nudged her gently with his shoulder, and Bonnie melted.

Zander's eyes were so blue, blue like morning on the very first day of summer vacation. There was intelligence and laughter with just a touch of a wild longing in them. He leaned in closer, and Bonnie was sure he was about to kiss her, their first kiss at last.

She tilted her head back to meet his lips, her eyelashes fluttering closed.

After a moment of waiting for a kiss that didn't come, she sat up again and opened her eyes. Zander was staring past her, out into the darkness of the campus, frowning.

Bonnie cleared her throat.

"Oh," he said, "sorry, Bonnie, I got distracted for a minute."

"Distracted?" Bonnie echoed indignantly. "What do you mean you - "

"Hang on a sec." Zander put a finger to her lips, shushing her.

"Do you hear something?" Bonnie asked, uneasy tingles creeping up her back.

Zander got to his feet. "Sorry, I just remembered something I have to do. I'll catch up with you later, okay?" With a halfhearted wave, not even looking at Bonnie, he loped off into the darkness.

Bonnie's mouth dropped open. "Wait!" she said, scrambling to her feet. "Are you just going to leave me here" - Zander was gone - "alone?" she finished in a tiny voice.

Great. Bonnie walked out to the middle of the path, looked around, and waited a minute to see if there was any sign of Zander coming back. But there was no one in sight.

She couldn't even hear his footsteps anymore.

There were pools of light beneath the street lamps on the path, but they didn't reach very far. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees on the quad, and Bonnie shivered. No sense in standing here, Bonnie thought, and she started walking.

For the first few steps down the path toward her dorm, Bonnie was really angry, hot and humiliated. How could Zander have been such a flake? How could he leave her al alone in the middle of the night, especially after all the attacks and disappearances on campus? She kicked viciously at a pebble in her path.

A few steps further on, Bonnie stopped being so angry.

She was too scared; the fear was pushing the anger out of her. She should have headed back to the dorm when Meredith and Elena did, but she'd assured them, gaily, that Zander would walk her back. How could he have just left her? She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and went as fast as she could without actual y running, her stupid high-heeled going-out-dancing shoes pinching and making the balls of her feet ache.

It was real y late; most of the other people who lived on campus must be tucked into their beds by now. The silence was unsettling.

When the footsteps began behind her, it was even worse.

She wasn't sure she was really hearing them at first.

Gradual y, she became aware of a faint, quick padding in the distance, someone moving lightly and fast. She paused and listened, and the footsteps grew louder and faster still .

Someone was running toward her.

Bonnie sped up, stumbling over her feet in her haste.

Her shoes skidded on a loose stone in the path and she fell , catching herself on her hands and one knee. The impact stung sharply enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she kicked off her shoes, not caring that she was leaving them behind. She scrambled up and ran faster.

The footsteps of her pursuer were louder now, starting to catch up. Their rhythm was strange: loud periodic footballs with quicker, lighter beats in between. Bonnie realized with horror that there was more than one person chasing her.

Her foot skidded again, and she barely caught her balance, staggering sideways a few steps to keep from falling, losing more ground.

A heavy hand fell on Bonnie's shoulder, and she screamed and whipped around, her fists raised in a desperate bid to defend herself.

"Bonnie!" Meredith gasped, clutching Bonnie's shoulders. "What are you doing out here by yourself?" Samantha came up beside them, carrying Bonnie's shoes, and doubled over, panting for breath.

"You are way too fast for me, Meredith," she said.

Bonnie swallowed a sob of relief. Now that she was safe, she felt like sitting down and having hysterics. "You scared me," she said.

Meredith looked furious. "Remember how we promised to stick together?" Meredith's gray eyes were stormy. "You were supposed to stay with Zander until you got home safely."

Bonnie, about to respond heatedly that it hadn't been her choice to be out here alone, suddenly closed her mouth and nodded.

If Meredith knew that Zander had left Bonnie out here by herself, she would never, never forgive him. And Bonnie was mad at Zander for leaving her, but she wasn't quite that mad, not mad enough to turn Meredith against him. Maybe he had an explanation. And she still wanted that kiss.

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said abjectly, staring down at her feet. "You're right, I should have known better." Mollified, Meredith swung an arm over Bonnie's shoulders. Samantha silently handed Bonnie her shoes, and Bonnie pulled them back on. "Let's walk Samantha back to her dorm, and then we'll go home together," she said forgivingly. "You'll be okay with us." Around the corner from her room, Elena sagged and leaned against the hall way wall for a moment. It had been a long, long night. There had been drinks, and dancing with the huge shaggy-haired Spencer who, as Samantha had warned her, did try to pick Elena up and swing her around.

Things got loud and aggravating, and the whole time, her heart hurt. She wasn't sure she wanted to navigate the world without Stefan. It's just for now, she told herself, straightening up and plodding around the corner.

"Hel o, princess," said Damon. Elena stiffened in shock.

Lounging on the floor in front of her door, Damon somehow managed to look sleek and perfectly poised in what would have been an awkward position for anyone else. As she recovered from the shock of his being there at all , Elena was surprised by the burst of joy that rose up in her chest at the sight of him.

Trying to ignore that happy little hop inside her, she said flatly, "I told you I didn't want to see you for a while, Damon." Damon shrugged and rose gracefully to his feet.

"Darling, I'm not here to plead for your hand." His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment, but then he went on in a dry and detached tone. "I'm just checking in on you and the little redbird, making sure you haven't disappeared with whatever's gone sour on this campus."

"We're fine," Elena said shortly. "Here I am, and Bonnie's new boyfriend is walking her home."

"New boyfriend?" Damon asked, raising one eyebrow.

He'd always had - something - some connection with Bonnie, Elena knew, and she guessed his ego might not be thrilled to have her moving past the little crush she'd focused on him. "And how did you get home?" Damon asked acidly. "I notice you haven't picked up a new boyfriend to protect you. Not yet, anyway." Elena flushed and bit her lip but refused to rise to the bait. "Meredith just left to patrol around campus. I notice you didn't ask about her. Don't you want to make sure she's safe?"

Damon snorted. "I pity any ghoul that goes after that one," he said, sounding more admiring than anything else.

"Can I come in? Note that I'm being courteous again, waiting for you out here in this dingy hal way instead of comfortably on your bed."

"You can come in for a minute," Elena said grudgingly, and opened her bag to rummage for her keys.

Oh. She felt a sudden pang of heartache. At the top of her bag, rather crushed and wilted now, was the daisy she'd found outside her door at the beginning of the evening. She touched it gently, reluctant to push it aside in the hunt for her keys.

"A daisy," said Damon dryly. "Very sweet. You don't seem to be taking much care of it, though." Purposely ignoring him, Elena grabbed her keys and snapped the bag shut. "So you think the disappearances and attacks are because of ghouls? Do you mean something supernatural?" she asked, unlocking the door.

"What did you find out, Damon?"

Shrugging, Damon followed her into the room.

"Nothing," he answered grimly. "But I certainly don't think the missing kids just freaked out and went home or to Daytona Beach or something. I think you need to be careful." Elena sat down on her bed, drew her knees up, and rested her chin on them. "Have you used your Power to try to figure out what's going on?" she asked. "Meredith said she would ask you."

Damon sat down next to her and sighed. "Beloved, as little as I like to admit it, even my Power has limits," he said.

"If someone is much stronger than me, like Klaus was, he can hide himself. If someone is much weaker, he doesn't usual y make enough of an impression for me to find him unless I already know who he is. And for some ridiculous reason" - he scowled - "I can never sense werewolves at all ."

"So you can't help?" Elena said, dismayed.

"Oh, I didn't say that," Damon said. He touched a loose strand of Elena's golden hair with one long finger. "Pretty," he said absently. "I like your hair pulled back like this." She twitched away from him, and he dropped his hand. "I'm looking into it," he went on, his eyes gleaming. "I haven't had a good hunt in far too long."

Elena wasn't sure that she ought to find this comforting, but she did, in a kind of scary way. "You'll be relentless, then?" she asked, a little chill going through her, and he nodded, his long black lashes half veiling his eyes.

She was so sleepy and felt happier now that she'd seen Damon, although she knew she shouldn't have let him in.

She missed him, too. "You had better go," she said, yawning. "Let me know what you find out." Damon stood, hesitating by the end of her bed. "I don't like leaving you alone here," he said. "Not with everything that's been happening. Where are those friends of yours?"

"They'll be here," Elena said. Something generous in her made her add, "But if you're that worried, you can sleep here if you want." She'd missed him, she had, and he was being a perfect gentleman. And she had to admit, she would feel safer with him there.

"I can?" Damon quirked a wicked eyebrow.

"On the floor," Elena said firmly. "I'm sure Bonnie and Meredith will be glad for your protection, too." It was a lie.

While Bonnie would be thrilled to see him, there was a decent chance Meredith would kick him on purpose as she crossed the room. She might even put on special pointy-toed boots to do it.

Elena got up and pulled down a spare blanket from her closet for him, then headed off to brush her teeth and change. When she came back, al ready for bed, he was lying on the floor, wrapped in the blanket. His eyes lingered for a minute on the curve of her neck leading down to her lacy white nightgown, but he didn't say anything.

Elena climbed into bed and turned out the light. "Good night, Damon," she said.

There was a soft rush of air. Then suddenly he whispered softly in her ear, "Good night, princess." Cool lips brushed her cheek and then were gone.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, Elena woke to find Damon gone, his blanket folded neatly at the foot of her bed. Meredith was dressing for a morning workout, sleepy-eyed and silent, and she only nodded as Elena passed her; Elena had learned long ago that Meredith was useless for conversation before she'd had her first cup of coffee.

Bonnie, who didn't have class until that afternoon, was only a lump under her covers.

Surely Meredith would have said something if she had noticed Damon on the floor, Elena thought as she dropped in at the cafeteria to grab a muffin before class. Maybe Damon hadn't stayed. Elena bit her lip, thinking about that, kicking little stones on her way to class. She had thought he would stay, that he would want to try and keep her safe.

Was it right that she liked that and that she felt more than a twinge of hurt at the idea that he had left?

She didn't want Damon to be in love with her, did she?

Wasn't part of the reason she put her romance with Stefan on hold so that she and Damon could get each other out of their systems? But...

I am a lousy person, she realized.

Musing on her own lousiness took Elena all the way into her History of the South class, where she was doodling sadly in her notebook when Professor Campbell  - James

- came in. Clearing his throat loudly, he walked to the front of the class, and Elena reluctantly pulled her attention away from her own problems to pay attention to him.

James looked different. Unsure of himself, Elena realized. His eyes didn't seem quite as bright as usual, and he appeared to be somehow smaller.

"There's been another disappearance," he said quietly.

An anxious babble rose up from the rest of the class, and he held up his hand. "The victim this time - and I think we can say at this point that we're talking about victims, not students simply leaving campus - is, unfortunately, a student in this class. Courtney Brooks is missing; she was last seen walking back to her dorm from a party last night." Scanning the class, Elena tried to remember who Courtney Brooks was. A tall , quiet girl with caramel-colored hair, she thought, and spotted the girl's empty seat.

James raised his hand again to quell the rising clamor of frightened and excited voices. "Because of this," he said slowly, "I think that today we must postpone continuing our discussion of the colonial period so that I can tell you a little bit about the history of Dalcrest College." He looked around at the confused faces of the class. "This is not, you see, the first time unusual things have happened on this campus." Elena frowned and, looking at her classmates, saw her confusion mirrored on their faces.

"Dalcrest, as many of you doubtlessly know, was founded in 1889 by Simon Dalcrest with the aim of educating the wealthy sons of the postwar Southern aristocracy. He said that he wanted Dalcrest to be considered the 'Harvard of the South' and that he and his family would be at the forefront of intellectualism and academia in the soon-to-begin new century. This much is frequently featured in the official campus histories.

"It's less Wellknown that Simon's hopes were dashed in 1895 when his wild twenty-year-old son, William Dalcrest, was found dead with three others in the tunnels underneath the school. It was what appeared to be a suicide pact.

Certain materials and symbols found in the tunnels with the bodies suggested some ties to black magic. Two years later Simon's wife, Julia Dalcrest, was brutal y murdered in what is now the administration building; the mystery surrounding her death was never solved." Elena glanced around at her classmates. Had they known about this? The college brochures mentioned when the school was founded and by who, but nothing about suicides and murders. Tunnels underneath the school?

"Julia Dalcrest is one of at least three distinct ghosts who are rumored to haunt the campus. The other ghosts are those of a seventeen-year-old girl who drowned, again under mysterious circumstances, when visiting for a weekend dance in 1929. She is said to wander wailing through the halls of McClel an House, leaving dripping pools of water behind her. The third is a twenty-one-year-old boy who vanished in 1953 and whose body was found three years later in the library basement. His ghost has reportedly been seen coming in and out of offices in the library, running and looking backward in terror, as if he is being pursued.

"There are also rumors of several other mysterious occurrences: a student in 1963 disappeared for four days and reappeared, saying he had been kidnapped by elves." A nervous giggle ran through the class, and James waved a reproving finger at his audience. He seemed to be perking up, sWelling back to his usual self under the influence of the class's attention.

"The point is," he said, "that Dalcrest is an unusual place. Beyond elves and ghosts, there has been a plethora of documented unusual occurrences, and rumors and legends of far more spring up around campus every year.

Mysterious deaths. Secret societies. Tales of monsters." He paused dramatically and looked around at them. "I beg you, do not become part of the legend. Be smart, be safe, and stick together. Class dismissed."

The students glanced at one another uneasily, startled by this abrupt dismissal with still more than half an hour left in the class. Regardless, they started to gather their possessions together and trickle out of the room in twos and threes.

Elena grabbed her bag and hurried to the front of the room.

"Professor," she said. "James."

"Ah, Elena," James said. "I hope you were paying attention today. It is important that you young girls be on your guard. The young men, too, real y. Whatever affects this campus does not seem to discriminate." Up close, he looked pale and worried, older than he had at the beginning of the semester.

"I was very interested in what you said about the history of Dalcrest," Elena said. "But you didn't talk about what's happening now. What do you think is going on here?" Professor Campbell 's face creased into even grimmer lines, and his bright eyes gazed past her. "Well, my dear," he said, "it's hard to say. Yes, very hard." He licked his lips nervously. "I've spent a lot of time at this school, you know, years and years. There's not a lot I wouldn't believe at this point. But I just don't know," he said softly, as if he was talking to himself.

"There was something else I wanted to ask you," Elena said, and he looked at her attentively. "I went to see the picture you told me about. The one of you and my parents when you were students here. You were al wearing the same pin in the picture. It was blue and in the shape of a V." She was close enough to James that she felt his whole body jolt with surprise. His face lost its grim thoughtfulness and went blank. "Oh, yes?" he said. "I can't imagine what it was, I'm afraid. Probably something Elizabeth made. She was always very creative. Now, my dear, I really must run." He slipped past Elena and made his escape, hurrying out of the classroom despite a few other students' trying to stop him with questions.

Elena watched him go, feeling her own eyebrows going up in surprise. James knew more than he was saying, that was for sure. If he wouldn't tell her - and she wasn't giving up on him just yet - she'd find out somewhere else. Those pins were significant, his reaction proved that.

What kind of mystery could be tied to a pin? Had James said something about secret societies?

"After my parents died," Samantha told Meredith, "I went to live with my aunt. She came from a hunter family, too, but she didn't know anything about it. She didn't seem to want to know. I kept on doing martial arts and everything I could learn by myself, but I didn't have anyone to train me." Meredith shone her flashlight into the dark bushes over by the music building and waved the beam around. Nothing to see except plants.

"You did a good job teaching yourself," she told Samantha. "You're smart and strong and careful. You just need to keep trusting your instincts." It had been Samantha's idea to patrol the campus together after sundown, to check out the places where the missing girl, Courtney, had been spotted last night, to see if they could find anything.

Meredith had felt powerful at the beginning of the evening, poised to fight, with her sister hunter beside her.

But now, even though it was interesting to patrol with Samantha, to see the hunter life through her eyes, it was starting to feel like they were just wandering around at random.

"The police found her sweater somewhere over here," Samantha said. "We should look around for clues."

"Okay." Meredith restrained herself from saying that the police had already been through here with dogs, looking for clues themselves, and there was a good chance they had found anything there was to find. She scanned the flashlight over the grass and path. "Maybe we'd be better off doing this during the day, when we can see better."

"I guess you're right," Samantha said, flicking her own flashlight on and off. "It's good that we're out here at night, though, don't you think? If we're patrolling, we can protect people. Keep things from getting out of control. We walked Bonnie home last night and kept her safe." Meredith felt a flicker of anxiety. What if they hadn't come along? Could Bonnie have been the one who disappeared, instead of Courtney?

Samantha looked at Meredith, a little smile curling up the corners of her mouth. "It's our destiny, right? What we were born for."

Meredith grinned back at her, forgetting her momentary anxiety. She loved Samantha's enthusiasm for the hunt, her constant striving to get better, to fight the darkness. "Our destiny," she agreed.

Off across the quad, someone screamed.

Snapping into action without even thinking about it, Meredith began running. Samantha was a few steps behind her, already struggling to keep up. She needs to work on her speed, cool y commented the part of Meredith that was always taking notes.

The scream, shrill and frightened, came again, a bit to the left. Meredith changed direction and sped toward it.

Where? She was close now, but she couldn't see anything. She scanned her flashlight over the ground, searching.

There. On the ground nearby, two dark figures lay, one pinning the other to the ground.

Everyone froze for a moment, and then Meredith was racing toward them, shouting "Stop it! Get off! Get off!" and a second later, the figure that had been pinning the other down was up and running into the darkness.

Black hoodie, black jeans, the note taker said calmly.

Can't tell if it's a guy or a girl.

The person who'd been pinned was a girl, and she flinched and screamed as Meredith ran past her, but Meredith couldn't stop. Samantha was behind her so she could help the girl. Meredith had to catch the fleeing figure.

Her long strides ate up the ground, but she wasn't fast enough.

Even though she was going as fast as she could, the person in black was faster. There was a glimpse of paleness as the person looked back at her and then melted into the darkness. Meredith ran on, searching, but there was nothing to be found.

Final y, she halted. Panting, trying to catch her breath, she swept the beam of the flashlight over the ground, looking for some clue. She couldn't believe she had failed, that she had let the attacker get away.

Nothing. No trace. They had gotten so close, and still, al she knew was that the person who attacked this girl owned black clothes and was an insanely fast runner. Meredith swore and kicked at the ground, then pulled herself back together.

Approximating calmness, she headed back toward the victim. While Meredith was chasing the attacker, Samantha had helped the girl to her feet, and now the girl was huddled close to Samantha's side, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

Shaking her head at Meredith, Samantha said, "She didn't see anything. She thinks it was a man, but she didn't see his face."

Meredith clenched her fists. "Dammit. I didn't see anything either. He was so fast..." Her voice trailed off as a thought struck her.

"What is it?" Samantha asked.

"Nothing," Meredith said. "He got away." In her mind, she replayed that momentary glimpse of pale hair she had seen as the attacker looked back at her. That shade of pale - she had seen it somewhere very recently.

She remembered Zander, his face turned toward Bonnie's. His white-blond hair was that same unusual shade. It wasn't enough to go on, not enough to tel anyone.

A momentary impression of a color didn't mean anything.

Meredith pushed the thought away, but, as she gazed off into the darkness again, she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold.

Chapter Nineteen

Nobody was going to lie to Elena Gilbert and get away with it.

Elena marched along the path to the library, indignation keeping her head high and her steps sharp. So James thought he could pretend he didn't remember anything about those V-shaped pins? The way his eyes had skipped away from hers, the faint flush of pink in his plump cheeks, everything about him had shouted that there was something there, some secret about him and her parents that he didn't want to tell her.

If he wasn't going to tell her, she would find out for herself. The library seemed like a logical place to start.

"Elena," a voice called, and she stopped. She had been so focused on her mission that she had almost walked right by Damon, leaning against a tree outside the library. He smiled up at her with an innocently inquiring expression, his long legs stretched in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" she said abruptly. It was so weird, just seeing him here in the daylight on campus, like he was part of one picture superimposed upon another. He didn't belong in this part of her life, not unless she brought him in herself.

"Enjoying the sunshine," Damon said dryly. "And the scenery." The wave of his hand encompassed the trees and buildings of the campus as Wellas a flock of pretty girls giggling on the other side of the path. "What are you doing here?"

"I go to this school," Elena said. "So it's not weird for me to be hanging around the library. See my point?" Damon laughed. "You've discovered my secret, Elena," he said, getting to his feet. "I was here hoping to see you.

Or one of your little friends. I get so lonely, you know, even your Mutt would be a welcome distraction."

"Really?" she asked.

He shot her a look, his dark eyes amused. "Of course I always want to see you, princess. But I'm here for another reason. I'm supposed to be looking into the disappearances, remember? So I have to spend some time on the campus."

"Oh. Okay." Elena considered her options. Official y, she shouldn't be hanging around Damon at all . The terms of her breakup - or just break, she corrected herself - with Stefan were that she wasn't going to see either of the Salvatore brothers, not until they worked out their own issues and this thing between the three of them had time to cool off. But she'd already violated that by letting Damon sleep on the floor of her room, a much bigger deal than going to the library together.

"And what are you up to?" Damon asked her. "Anything I can assist with?"

Real y, a trip to the library ought to be innocent enough.

Elena made up her mind. She and Damon were supposed to be friends, after all . "I'm trying to find out some information about my parents," she said. "Want to help?"

"Certainly, my lovely," Damon said, and took her hand.

Elena felt a slight frisson of unease. But his fingers were reassuringly firm in hers, and she pushed her hesitation away.

The ancient tennis-shoed librarian in charge of the archive room explained how to search the database of school records and got Elena and Damon set up in the corner on a computer.

"Ugh," Damon said, poking disdainfully at a key. "I don't mind computers, but books and pictures ought to be real, not on a machine."

"But this way everyone can see them," Elena said patiently. She'd had this kind of conversation with Stefan before. The Salvatore brothers might look college-aged, but there were some things about the modern world they just couldn't seem to get their heads around.

Elena clicked on the photo section of the database and typed in her mother's name, Elizabeth Morrow.

"Look, there are a bunch of pictures." She scanned through them, looking for the one that she had seen hanging in the hall . She saw a lot of cast and crew pictures from various theatrical productions. James had told her that her mother was a star on the design side, but it looked like she was in some productions, too. In one, Elena's mother was dancing, her head flung back, her hair going everywhere.

"She looks like you." Damon was contemplating the picture, his head tilted to one side, dark eyes intent. "Softer here, though, around the mouth" - one long finger gestured - "and her face is more innocent than yours." His mouth twisted teasingly, and he shot a sidelong glance at Elena.

"A nicer girl than you, I'd guess."

"I'm nice," Elena said, hurt, and quickly clicked on to find the picture she was looking for.

"You're too clever to be nice, Elena," Damon said, but Elena was barely listening.

"Here we are," she said. The photograph was just as she remembered it: James and her parents under a tree, eager and impossibly young. Elena zoomed in on the image, focusing on the pin on her father's shirt. Definitely a V. It was blue, a deep dark blue, she could see that now, the same shade as the lapis lazuli rings Damon and Stefan wore to protect themselves from sunlight.

"I've seen one of those pins before," Damon said abruptly. He frowned. "I don't remember where, though. Sorry."

"You've seen it recently?" Elena asked, but Damon just shrugged. "James said my mother made the pins for al of them," she said, zooming closer so that all she could see on the screen was the grainy image of the V. "I don't believe him, though. She didn't make jewelry, that wasn't her kind of thing. And it doesn't look handmade, not unless it was made by someone with an actual jewelry studio.

That's some kind of enameling on the V, I think." She typed V in the search engine, but it came back with nothing. "I wish I knew what it stood for."

With another graceful one-shouldered shrug, Damon reached for the mouse and zoomed in and out on different parts of the picture. Behind them, the librarian thunked a book down, and Elena glanced back at her to find the woman's eyes fixed on them with disconcerting intensity.

Her mouth tightened as her eyes met Elena's, and she looked away, walking a little farther along the aisle. But Elena was left with the creepy feeling that the librarian was still watching and listening to them.

She turned to whisper something to Damon about it but was caught again by the sheer unexpectedness of him, of him here. He just didn't fit in the drab and ordinary library computer station - it was like finding a wild animal curled up on your desk. Like a dark angel fixing oatmeal in your kitchen.

Had she ever seen him under fluorescent lights before?

Something about the lighting brought out the clean paleness of his skin, cast long shadows along his cheekbones, and fell without reflection into the black velvet of his hair and eyes. A couple of buttons on the collar of his shirt were undone, and Elena found herself almost mesmerized by the subtle shifts of the long muscles in his neck and shoulders.

"What would a Vital Society be?" he asked suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie.

"What?" she asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Damon clicked the mouse and shifted the zoom, focusing this time on the notebook in her mother's lap. Her mother's hands - pretty hands, Elena noticed, prettier than her own, which had slightly crooked pinkies - were splayed over the open book, but between the fingers, Elena could read: Vit l Soci y

"I assume that's what it says," Damon said, shrugging.

"Since you're looking for something that starts with V. It could say something else of course. Vital Social y, maybe?

Was your mother a social queen bee like you?" Elena ignored the question. "The Vitale Society," she said slowly. "I always thought it was a myth."

"Leave the Vitale Society alone." The hiss came from behind them, and Elena whipped around.

The librarian seemed curiously impressive framed against the bookshelves despite her tennis shoes and pastel sweater set. Her hawklike face was tense and focused on Elena, her body tal and, Elena felt instinctively, threatening.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked. "Do you know something about them?"

Confronted by a direct question, the woman seemed to shrink from the almost menacing figure she had been a second before to an ordinary, slightly dithering old lady. "I don't know anything," she muttered, frowning. "Al I can say is that it's not safe to mess with the Vitales. Things happen around them. Even if you're careful." She started to wheel her book cart away.

"Wait!" Elena said, half rising. "What kind of things?" What had her parents been involved in? They wouldn't have done anything wrong, would they? Not Elena's parents. But the librarian only walked faster, the wheels of her cart squeaking as she rounded the corner into another aisle.

Damon gave a low laugh. "She won't tell you anything," he said, and Elena glared at him. "She doesn't know anything, or she's too scared to say what she does know."

"That's not helpful, Damon," Elena said tightly. She pressed her fingers against her temples. "What do we do now?"

"We look into the Vitale Society, of course," Damon said. Elena opened her mouth to object, and Damon shushed her, drawing one cool finger over her mouth. His touch was soft on her lips, and she half raised a hand toward them. "Don't worry about what a foolish old woman has to say," he told her. "But if we real y want to find out the secrets of this society of yours, we probably need to look somewhere other than the library."

He got to his feet and held out his hand. "Shall we?" he asked. Elena nodded and took his hand in hers. When it came to finding out secrets, to digging up what people wanted to keep concealed, she knew she could put her faith in Damon.

"Pick up, Zander," Bonnie muttered into the phone.

The ringing stopped, and a precise mechanical voice informed her that she was welcome to leave a message in the voice mailbox. Bonnie hung up. She had already left a couple of voicemails, and she didn't want Zander thinking she was any crazier or more clueless than he inevitably would when he saw his missed-call list.

Bonnie was pretty sure she was going through the Five Stages of Being Ditched. She was almost done with Denial, where she was convinced something had happened to him, and was moving quickly into Anger.

Later, she knew, she would slide into Bargaining, Depression, and eventual y (she hoped) Acceptance.

Apparently her psych class was already coming in handy.

It had been days since he had abruptly run off, leaving her al alone in front of the music building. When she found out that a girl disappeared that same night, at first Bonnie was angry and scared for herself. Zander had left her alone.

What if Bonnie had been the one to vanish? Then she began to worry about Zander, to be afraid that he was in trouble. He seemed so sweet, and so into her, that it was almost impossible for her to believe Zander would just be avoiding her al of a sudden.

Wouldn't his friends have sounded the alarm if Zander was missing, though? And when she thought that, Bonnie realized that she didn't know how to contact any of those guys; she hadn't seen any of them around campus since that night.

Bonnie stared at her phone as fresh tendrils of worry grew and twisted inside her. Real y, she was having a very tough time moving on to Anger when she was stil not quite sure that Zander was safe.

The phone rang.

Zander. It was Zander.

Bonnie snatched up her phone. "Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

Bonnie was almost ready to hang up when Zander final y spoke. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to freak you out. Some family stuff came up, and I've had to be out of touch. I'm back now."

Bonnie knew that Elena or Meredith would have said something pithy and cutting here, something to let Zander know exactly how little they appreciated being forgotten about, but she couldn't bring herself to. Zander sounded rough and tired, and there was a break in his voice when he said he was sorry that made her want to forgive him.

"You left me outside alone," she said softly. "A girl disappeared that night."

Zander sighed, a long sad sound. "I'm sorry," he said again. "It was an awful thing to do. But I knew you would be okay. You have to believe that. I wouldn't have left you in danger."

"How?" Bonnie asked. "How could you know?"

"Just trust me, Bonnie," Zander said. "I can't explain it now, but you weren't in danger that night. I'l tel you about it when I can, okay?"

Bonnie shut her eyes and bit her lip. Elena and Meredith would never have settled for this kind of half explanation, she knew. Not even half an explanation, just an apology and an evasion. But she wasn't like them, and Zander sounded sincere, so desperate for her to believe him. It was her choice, she knew: trust him, or let him go.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, I believe you." Zander let out another sigh, but it sounded like one of relief this time. "Let me make it up to you," he said.

"Please? How about I take you out this weekend, anywhere you want to go?"

Bonnie hesitated, but she was starting to smile despite herself. "There's a party at Samantha's dorm on Saturday," she said. "Want to meet there at nine?"

"There's something peculiar going on at the library," Damon said, and Stefan twitched in surprise at his sudden appearance.

"I didn't see you there," he said mildly, looking out onto his dark balcony, where Damon leaned against the railing.

"I just landed," Damon said, and smiled. "Literal y. I've been flying around campus, checking things out. It's a wonderful feeling, riding the breezes as the sun sets. You should try it."

Stefan nodded, keeping his face neutral. They both knew that one of the few things Stefan envied about Damon was his ability to change into a bird. It wasn't worth it, though - he would have to drink human blood regularly to have Power as strong as Damon's.

Elena's face rose up in his mind's eye, and he pushed her image away. She was his salvation, the one who connected him to the world of humans, who kept him from sinking into the darkness. Believing that their separation was only temporary was what was keeping him going.

"Don't you miss Elena?" Stefan asked, and Damon's face immediately closed off, becoming hard and blank.

Stefan sighed inwardly. Of course Damon didn't miss Elena, because he was undoubtedly seeing her al the time.

He'd known Damon wouldn't abide by the rules.

"What's the matter?" Damon asked him. His voice was almost concerned, and Stefan wondered what his own face looked like to get that kind of reaction from Damon. Damon who had probably just seen Elena.

"Sometimes I'm a fool," Stefan told him dryly. "What do you want, Damon?"

Damon smiled. "I want you to come do some detective work with me, little brother. Really, anything's better than seeing this sulking, forehead-wrinkling brooding expression on your face."

Stefan shrugged. "Why not?" Stefan leaped down from the balcony with perfect grace, and Damon followed swiftly behind.

As Damon led the way to their destination, he filled Stefan in on the details. Or rather, the vague scenario Stefan could gather from Damon's explanation. Damon never was one for full disclosure. Al Stefan knew was that some research at the library had prompted a sketchy warning from an old librarian. Stefan inwardly chuckled at the thought of a frail old woman squaring against Damon over library fines.

"What were you looking at?" Stefan asked, trying to get any more substantial information. "What did she want you to stay away from?" He shifted on the rough branch of the oak tree they were both sitting on, trying to get comfortable.

Damon had a habit of sitting in trees, Stefan realized. It must be a side effect of spending so much time as a bird.

They were on a stakeout outside the librarian's home, but what exactly they were looking for, Stefan wasn't sure.

"Just some old photographs from the school's history," Damon said. "It doesn't matter. I just want to make sure she's human." He peered through the window nearest their tree, where an elderly woman was sipping tea and watching television.

Stefan noted with irritation that Damon seemed a lot more at ease in the tree than Stefan did. He was leaning forward, resting graceful y on one knee, and Stefan could sense his sending questing strands of Power at the woman, trying to find out whether there was anything unusual about her.

His balance seemed awful y precarious, and he was completely focused on the old woman. Stefan inched toward Damon on the branch, stretched out a hand, and suddenly shoved him.

It was extremely satisfying. Damon, his composure shaken for once, let out a muffled yelp and fell out of the tree. In midair, he turned into a crow and flew back up, perching on a branch above Stefan and eyeing him with a baleful glare. Damon cawed his annoyance at Stefan loudly.

Stefan glanced through the window again. The woman didn't seem to have heard Damon's shout or the crow's caw - she was just flipping channels. When he looked back at Damon, his brother had regained his usual form.

"I would think playing a trick like that would go against your precious moral code," Damon said, fastidiously smoothing his hair.

"Not real y," Stefan said, grinning. "I couldn't help myself."

Damon shrugged, seeming to accept Stefan's playfulness as good-natured, and looked through the librarian's window again. She had gotten up to make herself another cup of tea.

"Did you sense anything from her?" Stefan asked.

Damon shook his head. "Either she's brilliantly hiding her true nature from us or she's just a peculiar librarian." He pushed himself off the branch and leaped, landing lightly on the grass far below. Either way, I've had enough, he added silently.

Stefan followed him, landing beside Damon at the bottom of the tree. "You didn't need me for any of that, Damon," he said. "Why did you ask me to come with you?" Damon's smile was brilliant in the darkness. "I just thought you could use some cheering up," he said simply.

Clearly, it wasn't the librarian Stefan should be worried about acting peculiarly.