The Vampire Diaries #11: Unseen (The Salvation #1)

Chapter 20

The motel room Trinity had been sharing with Darlene didn't seem to hold any immediate clues. It was small and sort of grimy: There was barely enough room for all of them to fit inside. Jack and Darlene were rifling through Trinity's possessions while Stefan and Elena searched the furniture for anything hidden. Zander and Shay were mostly hanging around the kitchenette, doubtlessly searching for scent clues, and Meredith herself was examining Trinity's weapon collection.

The others were mostly out patrolling the town and the woods, the Pack's sharp noses trying to root out any scent that might lead them to Trinity. Matt hadn't shown up yet. He was probably on his way from Jasmine's now.

This is what it's like to be a traveling hunter, Meredith thought, looking around. She and Stefan had traveled in search of Old Ones, of course, but only for a few days at a time. This room was different. Everything in it, from the hard-wearing, neutral-colored clothes to the neatly kept weapons, could be packed quickly and easily into one duffle bag. These were the possessions of a girl constantly on the road.

Meredith reached into the weapons bag and ran her thumb over the handle of Trinity's spare machete. The grip was worn with use.

"I don't think she's been back," Darlene said, rifling carefully through a bureau drawer. Her face was creased with concern. "All of her clothes are here."

"These papers just have to do with the hunt," Jack said from the desk. "Nothing I don't have. Would she have gone back to her family, do you think? Maybe if she was confused from the blood loss?"

Darlene shook her head, her eyes fixed on Trinity's meager possessions. "Her parents were killed in a vampire attack a couple of years back. There's no one else."

Stefan's hands paused for a moment in their careful examination of the space below Trinity's mattress, where he was feeling for anything hidden. It was the tiniest flinch, but Meredith saw it. She knew how much human deaths at the hands of other vampires bothered him, even now that he'd killed so many monsters, saved all of their lives so many times. Stefan, she thought, had never forgiven himself for what he was.

Elena laid a comforting hand on Stefan's shoulder and said idly to Jack, "I thought you'd all known one another all your lives."

"Not Jack," Darlene told her. "He recruited us for this hunt out of Atlanta about a year ago. We've been after Solomon ever since."

"We're all from hunter families, though," Jack said, "and that's a bond that crosses state lines." He grinned at Meredith, and something warm expanded in her chest at the acceptance in his eyes: She and Jack and Darlene, they were all hunters.

She stood and zipped Trinity's weapons bag back up. It didn't hold any clues. "If only Bonnie were here. She does a great tracing spell. I'll have Alaric call her, and she can talk him through it."

Stefan nodded. "That's probably our best option."

Darlene closed the bureau drawer. "Guess we should go," she said, but she hesitated, looking around the room one more time. Her face was tight with anxiety. "I just don't know where she could have gone," she said softly.

Zander cleared his throat. He and Shay were hovering in the kitchenette, and something in the way they were standing made the hairs suddenly stand up on the backs of Meredith's arms.

"Are we sure Solomon's dead?" Zander asked, sounding reluctant, rocking back on his heels.

Stefan and Meredith glanced at each other.

"We all saw him die," Meredith said, puzzled. "You saw, too. Stefan cut him in half."

"Wait, do you smell him?" Elena asked, horrified. One of her hands pulled back in front of her chest, as if to stave off a blow. "You said all the scents in here were old," she protested.

Shay shrugged. "In here, yeah."

Zander shifted from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable and anxious. "The smells in here are old," he said, "but back at your apartment, Trinity didn't smell right. It's kind of hard to explain. Like, her scent and Solomon's scents were all wrapped up together. I didn't worry about it then, because we were all just focused on how hurt she was, but now ..."

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and Meredith suppressed a little flare of annoyance. Bonnie usually acted as a Zander translator for the rest of her friends. Meredith hadn't really noticed until Bonnie went away that the guy wasn't the best at communication.

"Of course Trinity smelled like Solomon," Meredith said, trying to sound patient. "He was touching her at the Plantation Museum. And when Stefan killed him, his blood went all over her."

"Not like that," Zander said, frowning. "His scent wasn't on top of hers; they were all mixed up together. That's not how it works." He looked at Shay and she gave him a little shrug, as if to say, this is your thing, not mine. Turning to Stefan, he said, "Is there any way he could have infected Trinity with something? Like, with some aspect of himself? Can Old Ones do that?"

Say no. Meredith looked at Stefan for reassurance, but he frowned, unsure. "The Old Ones have so many Powers that other vampires don't," he said slowly. "I never heard of anything like that, but it could be true."

Jack shook his head decidedly. "I've been hunting Old Ones for a while-longer than you, Stefan, no offense. None of them could do that."

A flicker of movement outside the window caught Meredith's eye. "Matt's here," she said. She opened the door, and Matt came in, red-eyed and unshaven.

"Are you okay?" Meredith asked. They were all tired and worried, but Matt looked even worse than the rest of them, shockingly pale and grim under his stubble, his face almost paper white.

"Fine," Matt said, but he sounded distracted. He looked at Stefan. "Listen, Jasmine said Trinity's eyes were yellow when she was treating her. I don't ... what do you think that means?"

Goose bumps crawled up Meredith's skin. "Possession?" she said, her voice sounding strangely high to her own ears. "With the eyes, and the scent? Even though Solomon's dead?"

Stefan frowned. "He was doing something to Trinity before we managed to kill him. And the way he went around to all of us in the room, like he was testing us. It could have been a spell, some kind of blood ritual."

Jack stood. The way he pulled his shoulders back, his weight evenly balanced between his feet, reminded Meredith of how he'd looked when they were sparring. But the enemy wasn't here to fight. "What are you trying to suggest?" he asked.

Elena swallowed. "He's saying that when Solomon was in danger, he might have ... moved into Trinity's body."

"If that were true," Stefan said, thinking aloud, "if he's really possessing Trinity right now, then all we've done is make him angrier. Make him want revenge." Stefan's eyes were fixed on Elena, and Meredith knew whom he was most worried about.

Elena's own mouth, however, had dropped open the moment Stefan said revenge. She looked around the circle of faces, her eyes wide with terror. "Where's Andres?"

On the porch of James's old house, Elena dug in her purse for her keys.

"I didn't know you guys kept this house," Spencer said cheerfully. "Sweet." Zander had sent the younger werewolf along with Elena, Stefan, and Meredith while the rest of the Pack searched the woods, but Spencer seemed pretty casual about it. He'd always been sort of a preppy frat-boy type, perpetually tan, collar popped. He wasn't Elena's favorite werewolf.

"James left it to Andres in his will," she explained tightly, finally unearthing the keys. "It comes in handy for Guardian business." In this case, "Guardian business" mostly meant that Andres had a place to stay when he visited Dalcrest, as did Aunt Judith and Elena's little sister, Margaret.

Elena thought fondly for a moment of James. He'd been her professor at Dalcrest and had helped her ease into her life as a Guardian. She owed him so much.

But she couldn't help remembering, too, that this house was also the place where James had died. As Elena turned the key she tried to convince herself that her feeling of dread was misguided. Andres had probably just overslept after everything that had happened last night.

The door swung open with a bang, and a rush of icy air chilled them. Spencer's and Stefan's heads shot up, both of them instantly on alert. It was as if they heard-or, God, smelled-something none of the humans could.

"Stay here, Elena," Stefan said, but she shook her head and moved forward with the others.

They found Andres in the bedroom.

He was lying sprawled out across the flowered comforter, blood flooding the bed from the wide gashes in his torso. His face, however, was curiously untouched. His dark eyes stared into the distance, their long black lashes framing only blankness, and his mouth hung slack. One hand dangled off the bed, fingers pointing down. A trail of blood still ran sluggishly over his wrist and hand, dripping slowly onto the floor.

Elena buckled when she saw him, almost falling, but Meredith grabbed her and held her up. Oh God oh God. He'd been ripped apart, just like Sammy.

All around them sounded the steady drip of water as the ice on the windows and mirrors began to melt.

"Solomon was here," Stefan said. "We were right; he's not dead." His voice sounded almost dry and matter-of-fact, but Elena could hear the devastation underneath. They had all thought they were safe.

Elena stepped forward slowly, a sob escaping her throat. Meredith tried to hold her back, but she shook off her friend's grip. When she reached Andres, she stood still and looked at him, trying to look past the gore to see her friend one last time.

Tentatively, she reached out to touch his hand, ignoring the sticky, lukewarm blood that coated it. Andres's hands had always been in motion, graceful and expressive, reaching out to embrace the world. She remembered the day they'd met, when he had taken her hand in his, warm and strong and reassuring. They sat under a tree together, and he told her the truth about being a Guardian, and she had been less afraid.

Behind her, the others were murmuring together. Spencer had pulled out his phone and was calling someone, probably Zander. They were all tense and eager to hunt, she knew, but Elena wasn't ready to join them.

Andres's eyes were dull now. They'd always been so bright. He'd been in love, for the first time, and somehow that seemed worse than anything, that he'd died here, thousands of miles away from his love.

Elena brushed her hand lightly over her friend's face, closing his eyes. "Good-bye, Andres," she said quietly. It seemed so important to be gentle with him now, even though he wasn't really here anymore. "I'm so sorry."

Chapter 21

"Damon, there's something wrong with you. I know it. I can feel it through our bond." Damon listened as Elena took a ragged breath, sounding tearful. "Are you okay?"

"Damon, please call me. I'm worried about you."

"Damon, I don't even know if you're getting these messages. If you are, call me. Please."

Clicking "delete" on the last of the many messages from Elena that had filled up his voice mail, Damon leaned back to rest against one of the small peaked roofs of the Musee d'Orsay. A stiff night breeze lifted his hair, and he huddled into the collar of his jacket. Normally the cold wouldn't bother him at all, but he hadn't fed since Katherine died, and he was starting to feel it.

This was a good spot to rest. He hadn't yet seen any of the vampires that were chasing him shape-shift or fly, so for whatever reason, they must not be able to. And from here Damon had a fine view over the rooftops of Paris, the river Seine at his back. There would be plenty of warning if anyone came after him. Finally, a moment to catch his breath and listen to his messages.

Elena liked Paris, he remembered; she had visited when she was a schoolgirl. Maybe she'd even been to the Musee. He remembered when this building had been a train station, modern in every detail at the beginning of the twentieth century: elevators, underground tracks, and above, a great sunlight-flooded space. It had seemed impossibly new to Damon at the time.

He shook his head, dismissing the memory. He'd been feeling melancholy and sentimental lately, ever since he'd said good-bye to poor Katherine's empty body, leaving it buried in a churchyard-the least he could do for her. He was angry, and tired of running, and most of all, he was hungry.

But not lonely. He was never lonely, Damon reminded himself. Vampires weren't meant to travel in packs. Still, it would be nice to hear Elena's voice again.

When he called, she picked up immediately. "Damon? Are you okay?" Her voice was thick with tears, and he stiffened automatically.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked, peering over the side of the museum. Was that a vampire far below, moving purposefully toward him? He sent his Power questing, found nothing. Sometimes they seemed to turn up out of nowhere, and he wasn't good at sensing this new kind of vampire at all.

"Andres is dead," Elena told him, her voice cracking. "We think ... the Old One we thought Stefan and Andres killed, he's not dead after all. And he murdered Andres." She gave a desolate little sob that went straight to Damon's heart.

"Oh, Elena," Damon said softly. "I'm sorry. I know you cared for him." The Guardian had been a friend to Elena, and, for that, Damon found it in himself to feel sorry he was gone.

Wait a minute. The Old One had been strong enough to trick Stefan and murder a Guardian?

Damn Stefan, anyway. He had told Damon that everything was fine.

"Stefan couldn't kill the Old One?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the walkway below. There were definitely more figures gathering there.

"It wasn't Stefan's fault," Elena argued. Damon sighed. Elena would always defend Stefan.

"But that doesn't mean it's okay," he said. "Stefan thought he was in control, and he wasn't. He told me you'd be fine."

Damon got to his feet, keeping a careful eye on the little knot of people-or vampires?-far below. Straightening his jacket, he realized his hands were shaking slightly. It was so typical of Stefan. He wasn't as careful as he thought he was.

"Nothing's ever Stefan's fault, is it?" he went on, surprised at the bitterness in his own voice. "I asked him to come out here to help us, and he said no. And now Katherine's dead. He said he would protect you, you and all your little human friends out there wallowing in small-town America, and now they're dying."

Elena sucked in a short, horrified breath. "Katherine's dead?" she asked.

"Yes," Damon said. He could hear Elena starting to cry again. Belatedly, he tried to soften his tone. Katherine and Elena, he had forgotten they had their own tie. "We just ... weren't enough to fight what's after us, not this time. I asked Stefan to help, but he wouldn't come. I'll kill them, though, I promise you that."

"I had no idea," Elena said bleakly. "I'm so sorry, Damon. I know how much she meant to you."

For a moment, Damon was surprised that Elena knew how he'd felt about Katherine, when he'd only just figured it out himself. But of course Elena knew; she could feel everything he felt. He pressed his fist against his chest, letting the ache of sorrow pass between them.

"She and Stefan were the only ones left," he said. "The only ones who knew who I used to be. Now there's only Stefan."

Elena sighed softly through the phone, thousands of miles away, and Damon felt her sympathy like a warm pulse in the bond between them.

The group down below was streaming into the museum. It was dark and silent inside; these were no tourists. Time to go. "Elena, I can't talk," he said, speaking quickly, slamming shut her link to his emotions. "I'll call again soon."

He clicked the phone off and tucked it into his pocket, ignoring her call of "Damon!" Closing his eyes, he searched for his Power and pulled it around him.

For a moment, he didn't think he would be strong enough. He was so tired and hungry. He'd raced across most of Europe in the past few weeks, trying to get away from these nearly unkillable vampires, but they just kept coming. He could hear footsteps on the grand staircase of the museum, far below. Maybe Paris was as good a place as any to die one more time.

No. Fiercely, he dug deep in himself for more Power. He was Damon Salvatore. He was an aristocrat, a gentleman, a vampire. No one was going to bring him to his knees.

In his rage, he found what he needed. Long before his pursuers reached the roof of the museum, Damon had stretched his wings and flown into the darkness.

Elena couldn't breathe. Andres dead. Katherine dead. Trinity dead, or possessed-who knew how much of her was still in there?

Damon had asked Stefan to help him, and Stefan had said no. Why hadn't he told her?

She was gripping her phone so tightly that its edges hurt her hand. Carefully, she hit the off button and put it down. Then she went to find Stefan.

He was sharpening the machete, the long-bladed weapon propped carefully against his knee as he slid a file along it.

"I need some more blood from you for the weapons," he said without looking up. "If Solomon's still out there, we need to go after him."

"Damon just called," Elena told him. "Katherine's dead."

Stefan's hand jerked, slicing a long cut on his arm with the machete, and he gave a small cry of pain. But his leaf-green eyes were unsurprised. "I know," he said. "I've known since it happened."

Elena found a cloth for him in the kitchen. "Here," she said. "Put some pressure on it." But the cut was already healing. Stefan just wiped the blood away and went back to sharpening the machete, his face closed off again.

"I thought-I felt something; I knew she was gone. How did she die?" he asked, his eyes on the blade. Elena knelt beside him and pressed her face against his shoulder, and he stopped sharpening the machete for a moment to rest his hand heavily against her hair.

"Damon didn't have time to say. I think something is chasing him." Elena drew back and watched Stefan keep moving the file steadily along the blade. Then she said, hesitantly, "He told me he asked you to come and help them. Days ago."

Stefan nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "I couldn't," he explained. "We were hunting for Solomon. I had to keep you safe."

"Stefan! Look at me." Stefan's head was still bowed, his gaze averted. Elena grabbed the handle of the machete and pulled it away from him. Stefan hissed in shock, yanking his hands back before it cut him again. Elena tossed the machete onto the floor.

"I am not that vulnerable," she said hotly. "I'm a Guardian, and I have Power of my own." Powerful and amazing, Trinity had called her. Elena knew she needed to remember that, to remember that she didn't need to be protected.

Getting to his feet, Stefan stared at her, stricken. "Andres was a Guardian," he said. "And look what happened."

"And we weren't able to prevent it," Elena said. She was tired of this, tired of Stefan treating her like she was more vulnerable than the rest of them. Yes, Andres had died, and it was terrible and frightening. Any of them could die, not just Elena. "All I'm saying is that I can take care of myself sometimes. And when I can't, there are people around me who can help. Meredith. The other hunters. A whole Pack of werewolves. I'm not alone."

Stefan reached out and took Elena's hands, pressing them against his chest, above his heart. "I had to be here," he said. "I want to protect you."

"It's not just about me," Elena said. "When Damon called you for help, you should have gone. He's your brother, and he needed you."

Stefan's mouth twisted into a bitter parody of a smile, still clinging to her hands. "It's always Damon, isn't it?" he asked. "Even when he's thousands of miles away, he manages to come between us."

Elena stared at him, and then she pulled away. "This has nothing to do with Damon. This is about us. I'm not something to protect. I'm a protector. We need to work together, and we need to keep the big picture in mind. I'm not the only person in the world, Stefan."

"To me you are," Stefan said, and reached for her again. Elena shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. How had they gotten to this state?

The room blurred around her, and she wiped her eyes. "Maybe you should sleep out here tonight," she said, her heart aching. "I need some room to breathe."

Chapter 22

Dear Diary,

Stefan said that, to him, I'm the only person in the world.

There was a time when I would have loved to hear that. But now, it just makes my blood run cold.

He's out on the balcony, staring into the night, watching for danger instead of curling up in here with his arms around me. Most of me wants to run out there and apologize. He'd lose that miserable look he has, and we'd hold each other, and everything would be back to normal. For the night.

But when we woke up, the problem wouldn't be gone.

Everyone Stefan has ever loved-including me, including Damon-has died, and left him.

It breaks my heart how much Stefan has suffered, how it's almost impossible for him to believe that terrible things aren't about to happen.

Of course it's scary that Solomon's still alive, and still hunting me. But I'm a Guardian, and I'm strong in my own way.

I ought to be protecting everyone. That's what I'm here for, after all.

I keep worrying about Damon. If he asked Stefan for help, he must have really needed it, and Stefan would have known that. What's changed, that Stefan thinks protecting me is the only thing that matters?

I love him. So much. And I've never regretted choosing to drink the Fountain of Eternal Youth and Life, so that I could be with Stefan, forever.

I've never wondered if I made the right choice. Not until now.

"Looks quiet," Jack said, parking his van in front of the storage place. Row upon row of heavy metal sliding doors lined the walls of the huge concrete building, each marking a separate unit. "Our extra weapon stash is in row J. If Solomon's possessing Trinity and can access her memories, he might come here." He gave a half shrug as he unfastened his seat belt. "Worth a shot."

In the middle row of the van, Stefan closed his eyes wearily, just for a moment. He'd been dragging all morning, feeling like he was moving at half speed.

He was so tired. Elena's words still echoed in his mind: I'm not the only person in the world, Stefan.

To him, she was.

From her seat beside Stefan, Elena gave him a tiny, fragile smile. Stefan's chest ached a little at the peace offering. He smiled back, then, sighing, reached for the door handle. Tired or not, they needed to keep hunting Solomon.

"Wait a sec," Alaric said. "There's something you guys need to see." Leaning forward from the back row of seats, he handed Stefan a piece of paper. Zander craned his neck to get a better look, but Meredith, sitting between them, didn't react. She must have already known.

It was a computer printout of a "Missing" poster from the 1980s. Elena gave a sharp, high gasp when she saw it, and Stefan turned the paper so Jack and Darlene could see from the front as well. The photo was washed-out but recognizable: a young, sharp-featured man with tawny, shoulder-length hair, giving the camera an easy smile.

"That's Solomon," Zander said, cocking his head to one side. "Definitely. But the poster says Gabriel Dalton. I don't understand."

"When Meredith told me that you guys thought Solomon had possessed Trinity before he died, it didn't quite make sense," Alaric told them. "Possession doesn't work like that. If Solomon had his own corporeal body, the shock of it being destroyed would have jolted him right back out of Trinity. I thought something else might be going on, so ..." He spread his hands, his eyes on the smiling photo of Gabriel Dalton. "I did some research. I think Solomon body-swapped into Trinity's body from Gabriel Dalton's, pulled her spirit out, and put his own in. The body we saw wasn't his original form either."

"This is proof that Solomon's done it before," Meredith said. "The body Solomon was using was once someone else's."

"So who did we kill in Solomon's-or, Gabriel's, body?" Jack asked, looking grim. "This Gabriel Dalton? Trinity?"

Alaric spread his hands in a who knows? gesture. "I think Gabriel Dalton's been dead for a while. Solomon wouldn't leave any loose ends, and if someone believed they were Gabriel Dalton in another form, it would make things ... messier for him."

Stefan felt ill. Abruptly, he reached again for the door handle and hurried out of the van. He felt the others startle behind him, then follow toward the hunters' storage locker. There's nothing you can do about it now, he told himself. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd thought killing Solomon was a triumph, but instead he'd murdered an innocent ally. He didn't want to believe it, but it felt true.

Jack fell into step beside him.

"I killed Trinity," Stefan said, defeated. Everything had happened so fast; he'd been so focused on killing Solomon, on ending all this.

"There's no way you could have known," Jack said roughly. "And Trinity was a good hunter; she knew the risks." He twisted a ring on his finger with an angry, abrupt gesture. "The important thing is that we know what form Solomon's in now. We should act quickly before he has time to swap into a body we don't know." He glanced back at Elena cautiously, then slowed to let her catch up. "Can you do that thing Andres did? Channeling life force?"

Elena stopped dead and stared at him, aghast. "You mean kill her?" she asked angrily. "No. I won't. There's no proof that Trinity isn't still in there. She could be possessed, helpless while her spirit is controlled by Solomon." The others came up beside them, their faces worried.

A muscle at the side of Jack's mouth twitched, and Stefan broke in. "What do you suggest we do, Elena?" he asked. "Alaric believes this is a case of body-swapping, and Solomon's too powerful for us not to go after him with everything we have. If we hesitate, we put everyone in danger."

Elena's eyes narrowed. "By everyone, you mean me," she said tartly. "But Trinity matters, too. We need to capture her, not kill her. We can't kill her unless we're completely sure she's gone, that there's no trace of her left in her body."

His jaw clenching, Stefan glared back at her. For a moment, he felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. "You're not the only one threatened here," he said, his voice tense. "Think of Andres. We can't risk everyone to save one person who is probably already dead."

"Yes, we can," Elena insisted. "We don't sacrifice innocent people to keep ourselves safe. That's not us, Stefan."

They stared at each other, Elena flushed and breathing hard.

"If there's a chance Trinity's still in there ..." Darlene said slowly.

"She was a good hunter," Jack said again. "Trinity would give anything if it meant we killed Solomon."

There was a slight shifting in the room, as the group began to realize that there were two distinct sides, and they would all have to pick one. Jack agreed with him, Stefan knew: The risks of trying to capture Solomon without killing him were too high.

He'd fought with Elena before, over personal things, over Damon, but never over what the right course of action was. Looking at her outraged face, Stefan knew that if he ignored her, if he succeeded in killing Trinity, Elena might never forgive him. He could side with Elena, or he could keep her safe.

Either way, he might lose her forever.

Chapter 23

Meredith's eyes watered, blurring the harsh white lights, and she tried to turn her face away. But she was stuck fast.

This was worse than being held by Solomon's Power. She could feel the multitude of tiny wires pressing against her skin, holding her in their trap. Heart pounding, she strained against them, trying desperately to move. But after a moment she gave up, letting her muscles go slack. It was only a dream, and soon she would wake up.

It just felt so real. The table-she was almost sure now that it was an operating table, and that thought started a cold dread in the pit of her stomach-was hard beneath her. Peering through the corners of her watering eyes, she could make out the blurry shape of something cylindrical and silver by her bedside. An oxygen canister, maybe? Was this a hospital?

The thought made her forget to be calm. She struggled harder, trying to wake herself up. Meredith had always hated hospitals.

As she pushed desperately against her restraints, a shrill beeping sped up, faster and faster. A heart rate monitor.

There was a shadow moving in the corner. Meredith stopped thrashing about and strained to see, the heart monitor slowing a little. There was no doubt about it this time. It was a person-shadowy, but getting closer.

With a sudden step, the figure moved to stand above her, anonymous in a surgical mask and white lab coat. Meredith blinked, trying to focus, but the person's face was still blurry. Something sharp and metallic flashed in the stranger's hand.

A scalpel, Meredith realized, heavy with dread, and tried to scrabble backward, to press herself into the hard table below her. She couldn't move. Her breath was coming in anxious, harsh pants. "No," she cried out, suddenly able to speak, hating the pleading, pathetic sound of her own voice.

The blade flashed silver along her stomach as Meredith watched, its motion followed by a thin, spreading line of red.

Something terrible was happening to her. Panic scratched at the inside of Meredith's head, a frantic babble. Something terrible was happening now.

#TVD11Nightmares

Meredith's eyes shot open. Dark room, soft bed, Alaric's steady breathing beside her. She felt at her stomach, reassuringly whole and unbloodied. She'd known it was a dream. But her heart was pounding hard, and her mouth was dry. Dream or not, she'd brought the fear with her: Something terrible is going to happen.

She got out of bed and padded into the kitchen, leaving the overhead light off. When she opened the refrigerator to pull out the water pitcher, she winced, blinking at the brightness. Her eyes were still sensitive from the harsh white lights. No, she reminded herself. They're not. That was just a dream.

Her throat was as dry and sore as if she'd really been screaming, though. Meredith gulped down the water and poured herself a second glass. It felt good going down, icily cold, but when she finished she was still parched.

There was something off about her, she thought. She felt jittery and overly sensitive, as if a touch might be too much to bear.

Swallowing against the ache in her throat, she squared her shoulders. Be strong. She was probably feeling weak because she'd been slacking off on her exercise schedule. Patrolling with Jack and his hunters was no substitute for a real workout.

A run clear would clear her head, Meredith decided.

A few minutes later, she left the house wearing a ratty old T-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Starting with a slow, deliberate jog, she gradually sped up, her feet slapping a steady rhythm against the sidewalk. The sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of dawn, but she had a stake strapped to her waist, hidden by her shirt, just in case.

By the time she reached the Dalcrest campus, she was almost at a sprint. The faster she went, the more centered Meredith felt, resettling comfortably in her own body again as her muscles strained.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon, and the campus was almost deserted. Meredith ran right past the only two people in sight, a couple making out, hot and heavy, pushed up against the side of the library.

A few strides farther on, she stopped, the scene she'd just passed replaying in her mind's eye. The way the girl had her face pressed into the man's throat, her arms holding him in place. The slump of the guy's shoulders.

Meredith swore and turned back, running as fast as she could, her hands fumbling to pull the stake from under her shirt.

It wasn't until the girl looked up, blood dripping down her chin, the ends of her hair sticky and matted, that Meredith realized it was Trinity.

"Hey there," she said, baring her teeth at Meredith. "I was hoping I'd run into all you hunters."

With a twist of horror, Meredith realized the guy Trinity held propped up was Roy, one of the hunter brothers. He flopped forward against her, his eyes closed and his head hanging limply. Meredith couldn't tell if he was breathing.

Her hands closed tighter over her stake, her heart pounding. If she could get close enough ... A stake wouldn't kill an Old One, if that was even what Trinity was now, but it might slow her down.

"Are you in there, Trinity?" she asked, watching the girl carefully. If only she'd glance away for a moment. If Meredith could somehow distract her, maybe she could get close enough.

Trinity's smile grew, but she said nothing, just stuck out the tip of her pink tongue to lick the blood off her lips. With an internal shudder, Meredith realized Trinity's eyes were yellow now, like an animal's. Like Gabriel Dalton's when he had Solomon inside him.

Taking a step closer, the stake firm in her grip, Meredith asked, "Do you know who you are?" She cocked her head toward Roy, limp and still, his head lolling against Trinity's collarbone. "Do you know who he is?"

Trinity laughed, a harsh, sudden noise completely unlike her usual soft chuckle. "All you hunters are tied so tightly to one another, aren't you? I wonder if you know as much as you think you do."

She glanced at Roy for a moment. "This one? He's a fighter, but he couldn't strike at someone he knew." Meredith was only half listening. With Trinity's attention distracted for that split second, she saw her chance.

Lunging forward, she stabbed the stake at Trinity's heart.

And was frozen in place.

If Meredith harbored any doubts that Solomon had invaded Trinity's body, they fell away now. It was like the Plantation Museum, like her nightmares. Her muscles, which just a minute ago had been strong, running, were completely immobile.

"I'd kill you now, but it's more fun to play," Trinity-Solomon-said. "I'll see you around, hunter." She stepped away from the library without even glancing back at Roy, and he fell heavily to the ground, landing on the concrete with a sinister thud.

Without looking back, without hurrying at all, Trinity sauntered off, her boots clicking on the pavement. Meredith was powerless to do anything except watch her go.

When Trinity had turned the corner and was completely out of sight, the hold she had on Meredith broke.

Immediately Meredith raced after her, her heart pounding as she rounded the corner of the library and ran between the dorms behind it. But Trinity was gone. The campus spread out in front of her in the early morning light, peaceful and silent and completely empty.

Meredith went back to Roy. He was still lying where Trinity had dropped him, his tall, broad body looking small and broken.

Meredith turned him over gently and checked his pulse. Roy flopped over unresistingly, a dead weight, his throat torn and bloody. How had Solomon's invasion of her body turned Trinity into a vampire? Meredith didn't understand it, but the evidence was right here before her. Trinity was a vampire-and like all the Old Ones, one who had nothing to fear from daylight.

Poor Roy, Meredith thought. Had he been happy to find Trinity, before she turned on him? She placed her hands on his chest and began CPR, pushing in a steady rhythm, lowering her mouth to his to force oxygen into his lungs. Even though she was pretty sure it was pointless, she had to try.

When Stefan and Elena had argued earlier over Trinity's fate, Meredith hadn't known what to think. But now she knew Stefan was right.

Trinity hadn't known who Roy was, hadn't really remembered Meredith. They'd both just been hunters to her, targets Solomon had been aware of all along. The girl who had been their friend, who had hunted beside them, was gone.

Chapter 24

"No matter what happens, we have to try to hang on to normal," Elena said.

Matt nodded. Personally, this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. But it was typical Elena: When things were at their worst, she whistled in the dark. He just wished Elena's way of whistling in the dark didn't include making Matt try on shirts.

"That one looks nice," she went on, giving him a friendly once-over. "I know Jasmine likes green."

Matt stiffened. He hadn't told anyone about what had happened with Jasmine yet. There was too much going on for him to feel like he could bring up his personal life, and he wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it. "We broke up," he said, his voice sounding just as rough and miserable as he felt.

"Oh, no," Elena breathed. "What happened?" Then her face darkened as she answered the question for him. "It's because she finally found out the truth about everything, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Matt said quietly. "She didn't want all that to be part of her life."

"I don't blame her." Elena grimaced. She bent her head and flicked distractedly through some more shirts. "It's terrifying. Remember how you felt when you found out that all of this-vampires and hunters and scary monsters in the dark-is real?" She looked up at Matt questioningly. "If you could do it all again, go back to the way things were before, would you?"

Matt flinched. We could start fresh, he heard Jasmine saying again, remembering how wide and pleading her beautiful eyes had been, and how they'd darkened in disappointment.

"I could never leave you guys in danger," he told Elena, and it was true.

Elena looked up at that. "I know you couldn't," she said, her mouth curling into a sad smile. "But I worry about you sometimes." She pulled two more shirts off the rack and shoved them into his hands. "Try on the blue one first and let me see."

In the dressing room, Matt carefully buttoned the blue shirt and smoothed it down. Elena doesn't need to worry about me, he thought. But how could he ever turn his back on his friends? It went against everything he believed in.

"Gorgeous!" Elena said when he came out in the new shirt. Her voice was cheerful, but her smile looked pasted on, too wide and toothy.

"How about you and Stefan?" Matt asked cautiously. "Today, the two of you seemed ..." Angry. "... at odds."

Elena's smile fell. "He and Jack are out there, trying to track down Trinity," she said, her voice flat. "They asked if I could trace her aura, but I refused. Not unless they're going to try to save her before they kill Solomon." She let out a long, frustrated breath. "Stefan just won't listen. He thinks he's protecting me, but I'm not helpless."

"I know," Matt said gently. "Even before you were a Guardian, you were pretty tough." Elena rewarded him with a more genuine smile, and he went to change shirts again.

When he came out, she had a lock of her silky blond hair twisted around her finger, her face thoughtful. Pushing at the rack of shirts, she said, "Can't Stefan see there's more to the world than me?"

Matt couldn't help the bubble of laughter that rose up in his throat at that. "Sorry," he said, in response to Elena's frown, "but when we were in high school, that's the last thing you would have said."

Elena had the grace to chuckle a little at that. "I wasn't that bad," she replied defensively.

"Well, I always liked you." Matt shrugged. He had more than liked her-beautiful, selfish, determined Elena. He still liked her now, but somewhere along the way, he had finally given up on loving her.

"I've changed," Elena said. "We all have. We grew up. I'm proud of who I am now." She frowned, sticking her chin out stubbornly. "And I cannot let Jack and Stefan kill Trinity without even trying to save her."

"I know, and I'll help if I can." Matt hesitated, not sure whether to say the rest of what he was thinking, and Elena cocked an inquiring eyebrow. "Just ..." He didn't quite know which words to use. "Just don't give up on Stefan, okay? You love each other, and that's ... hard to lose. I don't like seeing you fight." He thought again of Jasmine's eyes when she'd said good-bye, and his chest felt hot and tight.

Something of this must have come through in his words, because Elena looked at him knowingly, terribly sad, her lips pressed together and a deep line between her eyebrows.

To make her smile again, he held up the blue shirt. "And I'm buying the shirt."

He didn't really need a new shirt, but it was worth it to see her face lighten. As he followed Elena to the checkout line, though, he couldn't help the nagging worry that always lived at the back of his mind now, that had lived there for years.

The worst is still to come.

When Elena got back home, Stefan was digging through the hall closet. "I'm looking for my axe," he explained, a bit awkwardly, not looking at her. "Have you seen it?"

Elena shook her head, and he shoved a bunch of coats aside. "Here we are," he said, pulling it out and turning away. "I need to go. I'm late meeting Jack."

"Stefan-" Elena reached out to stop him.

He turned back toward her, seeming reluctant. There was so much pain in his face, lines of strain around that perfect sensual mouth and hurt darkening his eyes, making Elena's heart ache. All the way home, she had been thinking of what Matt said: You love each other, and that's hard to lose.

"Stefan," she said, helplessly. "I don't want to hurt you. I never, ever want to hurt you. I love you so much."

Stefan's face softened and he stepped toward her. "I love you, too, Elena. Everything I do is for you."

"I know that," Elena said, her voice calm and even. She smiled at him and held out her hand, feeling like she was coaxing some small animal out of its hiding place. He took it, hesitantly, and she squeezed, her palm warm against his. "I'm sorry we argued. But I'm worried about you. I'm afraid wanting to protect me has kept you from seeing how someone as innocent as Trinity-the real Trinity-needs us to give her a chance."

Stefan opened his mouth to object, and Elena pushed on quickly. "I worry that your morals are getting out of whack, Stefan, because you're so worried about me that you're not stopping to think. It's what I've always admired most about you, your sense of right and wrong," she finished softly, and rose up to brush her mouth against his.

But Stefan pulled away. "I love you, too, Elena," he said. He was frowning, his face hard with determination. "But we have to stop Solomon before he kills again. If that means losing Trinity, that's the price we have to pay. If we had any proof, any sign at all that Trinity was still in there, I'd be with you on this. But all I see in there is Solomon."

"We need to give her a chance," Elena said, her voice rising. "It's not fair. I know I don't have any proof, but we aren't sure. If there's even a shred of a chance that Trinity's trapped in there, we have to do everything we can to save her." She'd tried to talk to Stefan with a cooler head, but here they were, right back where they'd started.

Stefan turned away and headed for the door, his axe swinging easily from his hand. "I'm sorry, Elena, but I can't promise you that," he said coldly over his shoulder. "I have to do what's right, what's best for everyone. Even if you can't see it." He closed the apartment door quietly behind him.

Elena stared after him, her heart aching. He shouldn't have to shut himself off from her like that. She was losing Stefan-and he was losing himself.

Chapter 25

"Ready?" Bonnie asked, reaching for Marilise and Rick. They each joined their free hands with Poppy's, forming a circle of four.

Poppy blinked rapidly, clearly nervous, and Bonnie grinned at her reassuringly. They all could feel Alysia watching them from the other side of the roof and, behind her, the other groups with their mentors.

Bonnie swallowed and steeled herself, shutting out everything except her three friends and the cool stone of her falcon resting at the hollow of her throat. She used it to center herself, breathing deeply, and closed her eyes.

Her consciousness flickered along their joined hands, going around the circle, pulling on Marilise's solidity, Poppy's energy, Rick's calm. To each of them, she said, silently, Can I? Can I? Let me in, and felt each reply a wordless yes. Their hands warmed in hers, and she waited.

And then Bonnie felt a little thrill along her spine as something slid into place between them, all their edges neatly fitting together. With a jolt, they were connected. Power began to pour into Bonnie from all three, filling her, making her gasp. She was a balloon, swelling with the others' Power, stretched so thin it was almost too much for her to contain.

Bonnie opened her eyes-or rather, opened several pairs of eyes, each in a different place. She saw the faraway stars glowing faintly above the city from four different angles. She could see her own profile through their eyes, her head tilted backward, her cheeks round and soft. Bonnie felt like a live wire, thrumming with the energy of four people, burning and fizzing with it.

She took all this Power, her own and her three partners', and gave it a direction. It roared fiercely through her and up toward that clouded, dim-starred city sky. Flooding through her body and expanding farther and farther out, the Power cleared away the clouds, brightening the stars.

Bonnie gasped for breath and kept pushing. Power pulsed steadily through her as she concentrated on summer back home, picnics down at Warm Springs when she was in high school, the sun hot on her back and the smell of fresh-cut grass underfoot. Mixed up with this were Poppy's memories of her days at summer camp, pounding along on horseback on a wooded trail; Rick's of a childhood creek, cold water splashing around his calves, sharp river pebbles underfoot and sticky humid heat wrapping around him like a blanket; and Marilise digging in her garden, fragrant plants and crumbling dirt under her hands.

All those summers combined into one. Bonnie felt it take shape-hot and long and glorious, a perfect summer-and then she pushed it into the night.

Slowly, a bright white light began to grow and grow on the rooftop, Bonnie at its center. A few querulous chirps sounded and then a growing cacophony of birdsong, as birds awoke and decided that they had somehow missed the dawn. Everywhere else, it was night, but here on the rooftop, surrounded by their joined Power, it was day.

Bonnie held the sun in place for a few minutes, locked into a circuit of their Power, which ran through her into the sky and back to them again. She was the circuit. She felt stronger and more flush with Power every moment. She could keep the false day going all night, she realized, until the real sun came up.

But then she pulled back, breaking the circuit. This was just a demonstration of what they'd learned; she didn't need to hold it all night. It was enough to know that she could. Power drained out of her, leaving her alone in her own head. She blinked as her vision reduced to one point of view, one set of eyes. The light faded slowly, and night fell again.

Bonnie let go of her friends' hands and snapped the connection between them, releasing their Power. Breathing hard, they smiled at one another.

There was a burst of applause and some murmurs of appreciation from the group behind them as they surged closer. Bonnie had almost forgotten about their audience. "Very nice, very nice indeed," an older, bearded man kept saying, nodding and patting them on the backs.

Alysia pulled Bonnie to the corner of the roof, grinning. "That was terrific!" she exclaimed. "I liked what you chose, the way you all pulled energy from a personal memory. It's much stronger that way. You're really good at this."

"Thanks," Bonnie said. "It felt ... it was great, I felt like I was all three of them, sort of. And myself, too." She was alone in her head now, but she could still feel the echoes of them: Poppy's spirit, Rick's intentness, Marilise's warmth.

Alysia raised her hand and pushed one of Bonnie's wild curls out of her face. "I know you've been waiting to go home, and I think, now, you're ready," she said. "You've learned so much. Maybe it's time to use your Powers where they're really needed."

Happiness rose up inside Bonnie, making her feel almost weightless for a second. Home! Now she could really help with the trouble in Dalcrest, more than she ever had before. Now she could go back where she belonged. She'd get to be with the friends she loved as much as sisters, and with Zander, wonderful, clear-eyed, warmhearted Zander. She'd missed him with a constant low ache the whole time she'd been in Chicago.

Impulsively, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Alysia, pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," she said, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, "Thank you so much."

If she concentrated all of her Guardian Powers, Elena could just see the faintest wisps of darkness, like tendrils of smoke hanging in midair. Eyes narrowed, she followed the traces of the dark aura, moving carefully from one to the next as she trekked through the woods. Matt and Darlene were following her, the undergrowth crunching beneath their feet, but she couldn't risk looking back at them. If she took her attention off the trail of evil stretching out before her, it just might disappear.

"Are you sure she knows what she's doing?" she heard Darlene whisper loudly to Matt.

"Yes," Matt answered, defensive. "Remember what Andres did? Elena's special."

To be completely honest, Elena wasn't entirely sure she knew what she was doing. Stefan, Jack, Alex, and Meredith-four experienced hunters, one of them a vampire-had headed out to hunt Trinity today, weapons in hand, earpieces on, aiming for a kill. Zander had his werewolves patrolling the town and the campus, keeping people safe. Alaric was at the university, researching more folklore about body-swapping and possession.

And then there was the renegade force: Elena, Matt, and Darlene, hoping to somehow bring Trinity in alive. They wanted to hold her safe until they could figure out how to reverse what had happened and put Trinity back in control of her own body.

Darlene had appeared on Elena's doorstep that morning and grabbed her by the arm, her fingers as strong and tight as if they were made of iron. Hunter's grip, Elena had thought, trying to wriggle free. Meredith held tight like this.

"Jack told us you want to get Solomon out of Trinity," Darlene had said, fixing Elena with fierce dark eyes, something desperate in her tone. "I want to try, if you will. Trinity's like a little sister to me."

Of course Elena wanted to try. She remembered Trinity's laughing challenge to her on the roof at the apple orchard and felt a pang of sorrow-that sweet-natured girl was lost, and no one was going to help her. If there was even the slightest chance Trinity was still there, they had to try. No matter what Stefan thinks, I need to do what's right, she thought, trying to make herself strong and inflexible. She wasn't used to being on the opposite side of an argument from Stefan.

So now here they were, just Elena, Darlene, and Matt, the three musketeers, hoping that somehow they could save Trinity. Following this trace of wrongness, these tiny shreds of darkness hanging in the air, Elena led them forward. The trail was thin and faint, but it was there.

The darkness led them through the woods away from campus, mostly downhill. Their feet squished unpleasantly in the mud.

At last they came to the edge of a lake. Little ripples wet the toes of Elena's boots as she followed the dark aura right to the shore. When she strained her eyes, she could see its trail leading out over the water, toward the vast middle of the lake.

"It goes straight over the water," she told the others.

"We're not going out there," Matt objected. "We'll walk around, pick it up on the other side."

Elena shook her head, her eyes on the faint traces of darkness. "If we leave the trail, I probably won't be able to find it again. It's too faint."

"Elena ..." Matt said.

"I can't." She stared at him desperately. "We'll lose it."

Matt sighed. "I'll find a boat," he said, gesturing off to the right. "There's a boathouse over there."

Elena nodded, never taking her eyes from the dark trail, barely daring to blink. Behind her, she heard Darlene shift from foot to foot and sigh.

"I knew Trinity's family," the older hunter said. "Before her parents died, they were almost like my parents, too. They fed me, offered me a place to stay, gave me advice I usually didn't follow. Trinity ... she's the only one left. I can't just let go of her."

"We'll do our best," Elena said, her eyes still fixed over the water. "I promise. I want to save her as much as you do." She was trying not to show it, but she was used to having Stefan, Meredith, and Bonnie on her side. With Bonnie gone and the others united against her, Elena felt so alone.

She gritted her teeth. She was doing the right thing, and that had to count for something.

There was a plashing of oars as Matt rowed up to them in a dented old rowboat. He jumped out and waded to shore, pulling the boat up behind him. "Here we go," he said. "There wasn't much selection. The crew team locks their boats up."

Elena sat in the front of the boat and pointed the way, while Darlene and Matt each took an oar.

As they traveled, the evil aura got darker and thicker. Elena was sure now that it was Solomon's. It felt ancient and cruel, like a bitter memory, something that had survived long millennia steeped in violence and hate. There was a strange yellowish-green mixed up in the smoky darkness, and Elena remembered what Jasmine and Meredith had said about Trinity's eyes.

As they neared the middle of the lake, the boat suddenly lurched. Elena yelped, grabbing hold of its side to keep her balance.

"What was that?" Darlene asked sharply.

"The wind must be picking up," Matt said, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

The waves were getting bigger, tossing the boat angrily in the water. Elena gripped the sides so hard her fingers ached.

"There's no wind," Darlene said suddenly, and Elena realized she was right. The sky was black and ominous, but the air was still. The waves moved more violently, the front of the boat going up in the air and then smacking down onto the water with a sickening lurch.

Right in front of Elena, the aura she'd been following disappeared, dissolving into nothingness.

"It's a trick," she gasped, just as the boat smacked into the water hard, dumping them out.

Elena was pulled down, down, down under the water, her hair streaming out behind her like a mermaid's. No, she thought, no, please, no. She'd drowned once before, in the dark waters of the creek under Wickery Bridge. She'd died.

She kicked and thrashed, trying to swim up toward the surface, but it was as if some invisible force was pushing on her, sending her straight down. Her feet hit the muddy bottom and waterweed, soft as feathers, wrapped itself around her legs.

Holding her breath, she bent her legs and pushed off hard against the lake bottom, focusing on the dim light above. She could see shadows in the water above her-Matt and Darlene, and the vague outline of the boat.

She was so cold. Colder than made sense for a summer day, even in deep water.

The water had been cold the other time-the night she went off the bridge. Ice in her hair, the heavy painful push of water filling her lungs, the blackness that had sucked her in. The last thing she had seen was the hood of Matt's car swallowed by dark water.

I'm not going to make it. Elena pushed the thought away and kept swimming upward. Ice crystals were forming around her, she realized, sharp and crystalline.

She was about to break through when her hands hit something hard and flat and cold above her. She gasped in surprise, accidentally letting the water in, and red-and-black sparks burst in her vision. With the last of her strength, Elena pounded her fists against the barrier, felt for an opening. But it was no use.

The pond had frozen over above her. Solomon.

She tried to keep hitting at the ice, but she was floating down, down, toward the darkness below. A human death, she thought, and then, Oh, Stefan, I'm so sorry to leave you this way.

Some last spark in her flared in rebellion. She wasn't going to die like this, not again. She was a Guardian. Elena reached deep, deep inside herself and pulled hard at the last of her Power.

Something arced out of her, a pure white light, and with a sudden shock, the ice above her head cracked violently open. And somehow, with one last feeble kick, she managed to break the surface of the water.

She opened her eyes but for a moment, she still couldn't see. She was coughing, taking great rasping, greedy breaths, struggling not to slip back under. And then something grabbed her by the hair, was now holding her by the arms, and she started fighting it, turning and twisting blindly in the water.

"Elena! Elena!" There was a sharp pain across her face, and Elena stopped struggling, shocked. "Elena!" It was Matt, gripping onto one of her arms, his other hand raised to slap her again. Darlene, her wet hair matted, was clutching her other arm. The boat bobbed across the water next to them.

Tears streaming from her eyes, Elena clung to Matt, his body warm and solid next to her freezing one. She choked and gagged some more, spitting icy water. "It was a trick," she managed to say after a minute, sobbing.

"I know. I can't ... I don't know what just happened, but I'm so glad you're okay." Matt gulped and took a deep breath, his arms tight around Elena. "We have to get back to shore."

Matt boosted Elena up, steadying the boat with one hand. With a lot of effort, she managed to wiggle back over the side, scraping her stomach uncomfortably, and land in a graceless heap on the bottom of the boat.

They rowed back toward shore. The waves were gone and the surface of the lake was still. The ice had already almost melted in the summer sun, but here and there bits of it bobbed on the lake surface, so beautiful that Elena could barely believe it had just tried to kill her.

Matt frowned. "Maybe Stefan is right. Maybe it's too dangerous to try to save Trinity."

"No," Elena said. Her head was pounding, her eyes burned, and her chest felt raw and painful, but she wasn't going to listen to an argument about this again. "We're not going to kill her. Not unless we know for sure that she's already gone."

"No sign here," Jack said, tapping his earpiece. "But Solomon doesn't usually leave evidence of kills. Stay north and keep your eyes open. We're heading southwest."

Meredith heard the murmur of Stefan and Alex's reply, and then they ended the transmission. Jack jerked his chin and she followed him southwest through the woods, scanning carefully all around them.

She caught sight of a mark in the mud underfoot and lifted a hand to get Jack's attention. "Footprints," she said, keeping her voice low just in case. The indentations were indistinct, but they looked about Trinity's size. Not many people would be walking this far back in the woods.

Jack kneeled down to examine them, his blue-jeaned knees sinking into the soft soil. "Not her." He gestured at the heel. "These are too big. Trinity has smaller feet than this."

"Oh," said Meredith, disappointed. They'd been searching the woods for a while, and so far, they hadn't found anything. No bodies, no sign of anything unnatural. "Sorry," she added, feeling useless.

"Solomon's always been incredibly talented at staying invisible," Jack said, as if he were reading her mind. "Andres being able to find Solomon was the first break we'd had in a long time." He straightened up and shot Meredith a crooked smile. "Any chance we'll be able to talk Elena into trying again? I didn't know how handy a Guardian could be."

Meredith shook her head. "Elena won't help hunt as long as she thinks she might be able to save Trinity."

"Yeah, I see that." Jack's shoulders drooped and, for a minute, he looked very tired. "Trinity was a terrific hunter. But we have to accept that she's gone and what we're hunting is the vampire that killed her."

"I know," said Meredith. Her stave felt heavier than usual. There wasn't a lot of pleasure in this hunt, knowing that, at best, it would end in fighting something that had the shape of a friend.

They walked on in silence for a while. A couple of times, Jack stopped to check footprints on the forest floor, but both times shook his head and went on. Not Trinity's. Meredith kept her eyes peeled for any anomalies.

Then she spotted a familiar clump of plants: soft purple blossoms, branching green stems, and small-toothed leaves. "Look, vervain," she said, pleased, and unzipped the pack she carried on her back. The opportunity to restock their vervain supply wasn't something she would pass up. She began to pick the herb's shoots one by one, careful not to crush their blossoms.

"I haven't used vervain much," Jack said, coming closer to look. "But I should probably start putting it in tea or something, like you do. Does it hurt Stefan, though? To be around it?"

"Not really. Of course, he could never drink from any of us, but I don't think it would ever come to that." She paused. "It's important for the rest of us to keep our minds clear. We need all the defenses we can get."

Jack crouched down to examine the spindly plants more closely. "I never would have considered hunting with a vampire before now," he ventured. "Doesn't it bother you? What he is?"

Meredith straightened up. She'd picked all the plants but left the roots, just the way Bonnie had taught her. They'd grow again and she could come back to this patch for more. "Stefan's more than proven himself to me," she said flatly. "And he's not a killer. He doesn't feed on humans."

"I know that," Jack said. "He told me. Doesn't that make him weaker, though?" His dark eyes were intent.

"I guess, but he's pretty strong anyway. He's old, and vampires get stronger with age," Meredith said, suddenly determined to defend Stefan. She took a few steps farther into the woods, continuing their trek, then stopped and turned back to Jack, feeling a fierce, protective rush of heat inside her. "I trust Stefan. I might be a hunter, but I'm always going to be on his side."

Jack nodded and started walking again, shoulder to shoulder with her.

They walked in silence for a while after that. The day was getting hot, the sky a deep blue dome high above them. Meredith felt easier now, glad that she and Jack understood each other about Stefan. He wasn't an enemy of the hunters.

"You look tired, Meredith," Jack said, breaking the silence. "You doing all right?"

"I ... I haven't been sleeping well lately," she admitted.

"Anything wrong?"

"I keep having these weird dreams," Meredith said hesitantly. It wasn't really in her nature to talk about things like this; she hated seeming weak. But she felt strangely comfortable with Jack: He was a hunter; he was like her. "I dream that I'm in a hospital room, or maybe a lab, and I can't move." Shuddering, she realized how lame her words sounded. It was hard to explain how disturbing the dreams were. "I just feel like something terrible is happening," she said weakly.

Jack nodded, his warm brown eyes sympathetic. "Sounds scary." His arm brushed Meredith's reassuringly. "But you know the dreams can't hurt you, unless you let them. They're just images your mind has created while you're asleep. It's reality we need to worry about."

"I know." And to her surprise, Meredith did feel a little better. Just bringing the dreams into the daylight, putting them into words, had made them seem harmless. Jack was right. What was scary about a few dreams when she fought monsters in real life?

Chapter 26

Finally alone, Stefan gentled his Power and sent it questing through the woods. He was aching with hunger, but he hadn't let himself feed in front of the hunters. They didn't need him rubbing their faces in the fact that they were allied with their natural enemy.

He kept his Power warm and coaxing, beckoning come to me, come to me. Soon he heard a light step approaching through the undergrowth. A doe stepped delicately into the clearing, her big eyes fixed on Stefan.

"Yes, that's right," he murmured. He stretched out a hand, and the doe came to him willingly, nuzzling his fingers with her soft nose. She gazed up into his eyes and gradually grew still, until the only motion in the clearing was the steady rise and fall of her flanks. Stefan lowered his face to her neck, his canines lengthening, and drank.

Long before he was satisfied, Stefan pulled away. Taking any more would leave the deer weak, and he didn't want her vulnerable to other predators because of him. "Go on," he said, slapping her lightly on the side. Shocked out of her trance, the deer started violently and leaped away, crashing through the undergrowth as she went.

Just as Stefan raised his hand to wipe the blood from his lips, his phone rang.

He fished it out of his pocket, still feeling warm from feeding, and looked at the display. Damon.

He let it ring again, thinking of not answering, but stopped himself. Katherine was dead, and whether or not that was Stefan's fault, he owed it to Damon to talk to him. Stefan had tried several times to reach Damon right after Elena had confirmed what he guessed about Katherine's death, but this was the first time his brother was returning his calls.

"Stefan." Damon's voice sounded crisply determined, as if their last conversation had never happened. "I've been following up some leads on those vampires I keep meeting up with, and I wanted-"

"Damon," Stefan broke in. "Are you all right?" He tried to put weight behind his words, knowing that Katherine's death would have changed Damon, damaged him.

And if whatever had killed Katherine was still after Damon, he was in danger. Katherine had been old and strong and clever, not an easy target. Stefan rubbed a hand across his face and leaned back against a tree, suddenly worried about his brother.

He heard Damon sigh tiredly. "I will be," he said quietly. "I've got their trail now."

"The hunted becomes the hunter," Stefan quipped, and Damon gave a short answering huff of laughter. "Damon, why did you tell Elena I wouldn't help you?" Stefan asked.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Because you wouldn't help me?" Damon said dryly.

"Did you want her to be angry with me?"

Damon was quiet for a moment, and then he exhaled, a long, weary gust of breath. "Fine," he said. "I may have not been completely fair when I spoke to Elena. Katherine's death wasn't your fault."

"I didn't know things were so bad over there," Stefan said, meeting Damon's almost-apology with one of his own.

"It's probably better that you're not here. I'd only have to protect you." There was an edge of humor in Damon's voice, and Stefan relaxed, only to feel himself tensing again at his brother's next words. "What's going on with Elena?" Damon asked. "I can feel her pushing herself, all anxious and frustrated. It's very distracting, like an itch." His tone was light, but Stefan heard real worry behind it.

Stefan sighed. His head ached, and the lingering taste of the doe's blood was suddenly sour in his mouth. Stumbling a little over his words, he tried to explain about Trinity, about Elena's refusal to help Stefan and the hunters kill her. "I just want to protect her," he finished miserably. "Why can't Elena understand?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Listen, little brother," Damon said finally, his voice unusually gentle. "Don't be an idiot."

"Thank you, Damon." Stefan's canines prickled with irritation. "Always a pleasure to hear from you."

"She's not a child; she's a Guardian, you halfwit," Damon snapped. "She loves you-how much she loves you I can feel pounding through this connection between us, even when I don't want to. She's never going to stop. But she's made to protect the innocent, and if she thinks this Trinity is one of them, then maybe you should listen to her. She might know something you don't."

Stefan felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Had he been underestimating Elena, ignoring her instincts, so sure that he knew what was right? "I have to go," he said absently into the phone, and hung up.

Wiping the last traces of the doe's blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, he headed for home.

Damon shook his head and tucked his phone back into his pocket. Stefan never had been able to take advice gracefully, not even when they'd been human. Damon had wanted to tell Stefan about Lifetime Solutions, just in case something happened, but he wasn't going to bother calling back. He'd just have to be careful.

He put the whole conversation out of his head and focused on the office building in front of him. At first glance, there was nothing special about the gray-and-glass building; it was practically designed to blend in anonymously. Only the discreet sign showing an infinity symbol and the words LIFETIME SOLUTIONS confirmed that Damon had found what he was searching for.

And it hadn't been easy to find, not at all. It had taken Damon days of searching, calling in favors, even consulting a witch, before he finally found his way here-to an inoffensive-looking office building on the outskirts of Zurich.

No legitimate business would be this hard to find-which made Damon sure that something extremely shady was going on behind these walls. Something that led straight to the seemingly unkillable vampires.

It was the end of the day, and office workers were beginning to stream from the building. Damon looked them over carefully, finally selecting a pretty young blonde who was walking alone, carrying an armful of files.

This would be easier if he was still able to use his Power to Influence anyone he wanted. Technically, the Guardian who bound him to Elena had only forbidden him from using his Influence to feed, but he'd fallen out of the habit of using his Power on humans in general. Besides, they were a fickle bunch, Guardians; he didn't want to set them off.

And he still had his charm. Moving to intercept the woman, Damon bumped against her, sending her files flying to the ground.

"Oh, no," Damon said in German, "I'm so sorry. Let me help you."

The woman's face had flushed with anger, but whatever sharp reply she was about to make died on her lips once she got a good look at him. He gave her his most beguiling smile and saw her soften instantly.

By the time they'd picked up her files, Damon had learned that the woman's name was Anneli Yoder, that she was twenty-five, and that she was a secretary to a group of scientists at Lifetime Solutions.

"So, what do the scientists do in there?" he asked, his voice casual, his eyes tracing over her lips. Let her think he was asking just as an excuse to keep talking to her.

"Scientific research," Anneli said brightly, tilting her head and looking up at Damon through her long golden lashes. "Health-care stuff. Longevity is one of the things my group is working on. Some rats will live longer on a specially restricted diet, did you know that?"

"Fascinating." He carefully brushed a long golden curl back behind her ear, letting his hand linger. "I'm sure you're invaluable to your team. What do you do?"

"Um, I file," she said. "I take notes at the meetings and send reports to the administrators. I answer the phones."

"Interesting." Damon edged a little closer to her. Anneli's heart sped up and her lips parted unconsciously. She smelled sweet, and he regretted for a moment that he couldn't just feed on her. He was terribly hungry. "What sort of notes and reports?"

Anneli looked startled. "I don't read the reports," she said. "I just send them. And I don't really have to remember what people say in the meeting. I know stenography."

"I bet you do more than that," Damon said, his lips curling in a half smile. "Don't be modest." He was tempted to lay a touch of Power on his words, but who knew what the Guardians would take amiss? It wouldn't be worth it anyway; little Anneli didn't seem to know much.

"Well," she said, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. "I send blood samples to the lab. I have to make sure to label them correctly."

"Samples for what?" Damon asked.

Anneli blinked her big blue eyes at him. "Research."

I could have chosen a better informant, Damon thought with irritation, shooting Anneli his most blindingly bright smile. He'd chosen her because she seemed the easiest to influence without using his Power, and that apparently meant she was also the silliest woman in sight. He sent Anneli on her way, waving when she turned to shoot him an eager smile over her shoulder.

She didn't have the answers he needed. But what she did have, Damon thought with a smile, was a key card that gave her access to the building. He'd managed to slide it from her bag while they were picking up the files. With luck, Anneli wouldn't notice it was missing until tomorrow morning.

He would come back tonight and discover the secrets hidden here. Touching the key card hidden in the breast pocket of his jacket, Damon smiled.

Finally, he was on the verge of learning the secrets behind the strange vampires. The hunted would become the hunter, just like Stefan had said.

But for now he had some time to kill, and the vampires who pursued him hadn't caught up yet. Maybe he could meet someone in this city, some sweet Vittoria, and slake his hunger. Yes, Damon decided, casting one last glance at the bland office building, that was a good plan. He would come back tonight.

Chapter 27

"Zander!" Bonnie objected, laughing, "I'm not tired at all. Let's go out! I want to go dancing and see everybody."

"Nope," Zander said, holding her suitcase in one hand and barring the door with the other as Bonnie tried to turn around and head out of their building. "Now that I've got you in my clutches, I want you home tonight. You have no idea how lonely I've been in our apartment, all by myself." He was grinning, but his beautiful blue eyes were serious, and Bonnie's heart gave a funny little thump.

"I missed you, too," she said, and Zander leaned down to kiss her, his mouth warm and soft against hers.

Actually, if Zander wants me all to himself tonight, I don't really have a problem with that, Bonnie decided, letting herself fall into the kiss. "I guess I can wait till tomorrow to see the others," she told him dreamily.

Zander snorted and wrapped his free arm firmly around her shoulders. "Good luck with that," he said, and swung their apartment's door open.

"Surprise!" several voices shouted. Bonnie squealed with delight and ran to throw her arms around Meredith.

"I missed you!" Bonnie shouted, and Meredith laughed, her arms tightening around her friend.

"Me, too," Meredith said. She looked tired, Bonnie noticed, dark circles under her eyes that didn't belong there, but she was smiling brightly. Alaric came up behind them and took Meredith's hand in his.

"She's been pining away since you've been gone," he remarked to Bonnie. "Once things settle down, you two need some serious girl time."

The Pack was scattered around the room, bouncing off the walls as usual: Shay and Jared enthusiastically making out in a corner of the kitchen, Camden and Marcus knocking back shots, Tristan and Spencer insulting each other, all of them wrestling, drinking, eating, making noise. Bonnie beamed at them all equally, feeling benevolent. They could be loud and wild tonight and she wouldn't care. She was just glad to be home.

"How was Chicago?" Elena asked. She kissed Bonnie on the cheek and handed her a glass of wine. "Did you get a chance to go to the Art Institute?"

"No," Bonnie said, taking a sip. "We didn't get to see a lot of the city; we were mostly working on witch stuff." She was about to elaborate on this, how they'd spent their days in meditation and herb study, their evenings in spell work, when she realized that Elena wasn't listening. Her friend's eyes were looking past her, over Bonnie's shoulder, and Bonnie turned to see what Elena was looking at.

Stefan was on the opposite side of the room, looking at Elena, his face so miserable that Bonnie's heart ached in sympathy.

Bonnie found herself holding her breath, waiting for something-she wasn't sure what-to happen. But after a second, Stefan looked away, and the moment was broken. "Well!" said Elena overbrightly, her attention switching back to Bonnie. "I'd love to go to the Art Institute! They have some amazing eighteenth-century paintings."

"Okay," Bonnie said tentatively. She elbowed Zander and tried to communicate what the hell is going on with them with a subtle eyebrow raise, but Zander only shrugged.

Bonnie turned and saw Matt for the first time-she hadn't noticed him arrive. He looked terrible, his eyes red and puffy as if he hadn't slept for days.

"Matt!" she exclaimed, and hugged him quickly. "Where's Jasmine?"

Matt flinched. "We-uh, we broke up," he said, his voice cracking.

"Oh, Matt." She laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. "What happened?" But Matt was already turning away, heading toward the kitchen.

Confused, Bonnie looked to Zander again for an explanation, but he had moved away to break up a wrestling match between Enrique and Marcus. Grabbing hold of Meredith's wrist, Bonnie dragged her to the side of the room.

"What's going on with Elena and Stefan?" she hissed as soon as they were in a private corner. "And what happened with Matt and Jasmine?" She frowned, thinking of the strained looks behind her friends' smiles, even the slightly frantic quality of the werewolves' play. "Actually, what's wrong with everybody?"

Meredith bit her lip.

"Tell me," Bonnie insisted.

"I will, I swear," Meredith said in a rush. "But tonight, can't we just be happy you're back?"

"Show us a magic trick, Bonnie!" Enrique shouted, successfully distracted from his wrestling match.

Bonnie rolled her eyes at him, then pointed a finger at Meredith. "Tomorrow," she said. "You'll tell me everything." Meredith nodded, and Bonnie walked to the center of the room, her head high. If they wanted her to have fun for one night before they told her about whatever awful things were going on, she would.

"Witch trick! Witch trick!" several of the werewolves were chanting, led by Enrique, and Bonnie smiled. Finally, she could show her friends-show Zander-what the last few weeks had been all about.

Centering herself the way she had learned in Chicago, her fingers resting against the falcon at her throat, she reached down, down, through the concrete and brick of her building to the earth beneath. Once she was planted as firmly as a tree, she stretched her consciousness out, and decisively grabbed on to the energy of everyone else in the room.

A shock jolted through her when she linked to Zander, and through him to the other werewolves. Their energy was rawer than she was used to, a tough, muscular power that made her quiver, feeling hyperalert. She could hear Zander's heart beating steadily next to her, could smell the sharp scent of alcohol from everyone's drinks and a sweet sticky scent coming off the cookies Elena had just brought into the room. Was this the way werewolves felt all the time?

She was more cautious linking to Stefan-his energy was powerful and dark and acutely aware. It had a colder undercurrent that made her shiver, cool and still, while the werewolves were full of life and warmth. Meredith's energy was strangely similar to Stefan's-vampires and hunters, two sides of the same coin, Bonnie thought, almost overwhelmed-while Alaric's felt more familiar, like that of the witches she'd worked with in Chicago. Elena's energy glowed golden and warmed Bonnie from the inside, as if her bones were gently simmering.

There was, Bonnie thought, a lot of Power here to draw on. She pulled it through herself carefully, taming the energy, and then focused it on Enrique, who was still leading the chant. Then she shoved.

With a startled yelp, Enrique hit the ceiling, a little harder than Bonnie had intended, and she held him there, the others' Power streaming through her.

After a moment of shocked silence, everyone, even Enrique, began to laugh.

Let's meet north of campus. 20 min?

Stefan read the text message from Jack and headed for the door. He and the lead hunter needed to talk. Jack was going to have to take Elena's Guardian instincts more seriously; they both were. Besides, it was getting late, and the party was breaking up anyway.

He sensed Elena behind him a moment before she touched his arm. "Stefan? Can I talk to you?" She looked pale and strained, her jewel-blue eyes enormous in her face.

"Yes, of course," Stefan said, his heart turning over. He'd wanted to pull her aside all evening. It had been torturous watching her, not knowing what she was thinking or how she felt about him right now. "Give me just one moment, and we'll walk home." He quickly texted Jack back I can't tonight. Sorry, and turned off his phone.

This was more important.

He and Elena went downstairs and out into the street together, then silently turned toward home. The night was warm and clear, stars glowing brightly overhead. The silence felt companionable, without the tension that had been hanging between him and Elena lately. After a while, Stefan's shoulders lowered, some of his anxiety leaving him. They were Elena and Stefan, and they loved each other, no matter what. He knew that. He took her hand, and she held on tightly.

"I wanted to apologize," Elena said carefully, still looking straight ahead. "Even though I don't agree with what you're doing, I know you're only trying to protect me." He admired her profile for a moment, her small nose and pointed chin, the soft swell of her lips. She looked so delicate, her skin pale and smooth in the moonlight, but he needed to remember that she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, and she turned to look up into his face. "I know you're not helpless. You've always been strong, even before you found your Power." He remembered that high school girl, so determined and clever and unhappy, her brave spirit holding both him and Damon spellbound, despite all their years of experience, all the women they had known. After the first shock of the similarity, it wasn't her resemblance to Katherine that had attracted them, not at all.

They had reached the door of their building. Stefan spoke hurriedly, eager to get out all the things he needed to say to her, somehow feeling that they needed to clear the air before they went inside. The next time they went home, he wanted to do it cleanly, without the strain and tension that had been hovering over them like a dark cloud.

"I've been so stubborn," Stefan said. "I know I have. I haven't been listening. Sometimes the only thing I can see is danger to you. I keep thinking, if I can just get rid of everything that threatens you, then we can be free. We can start our lives together, the lives that are going to last forever." He swallowed, suddenly finding himself very near to tears. "If I lost you, I couldn't survive it," he finished softly.

"Oh, Stefan." Elena stroked his cheek, then ran her fingers gently through his hair. "There will always be another danger. This is our life together. We can't waste it."

"I know," Stefan said, raising his hand to take hers. "And I should have listened to you about Trinity. I can't-I couldn't believe that she was still in there. But I believe in you. You're a Guardian and"-he had to force the words out, because so much of him was still screaming protect Elena, save her-"maybe you can sense something I don't." He sighed. "I trust you, Elena. If you want to try to save Trinity, I will help you."

It seemed so simple, suddenly. No matter what happened tomorrow-and he didn't know what would happen, because Trinity was dangerous and Solomon was still after Elena, none of those facts had changed-they were united again. "I love you," he told her. "More every day. We'll be together for a thousand years, longer, and I'm going to keep loving you for all of them."

Elena kissed him in answer, warm and insistent, and he pulled her even closer. They went upstairs to their apartment hand in hand, exchanging kisses the whole way.

"I have something for you," Stefan said when they were finally inside. His slow heart sped a little as he dug in his pocket for the key and put it in her hand. "It's to your house in Fell's Church," he explained, in answer to her inquiring look. "I bought it for you, from your Aunt Judith. When this is over, when Solomon is finally dead, we're going to go everywhere. I'll show you all the places I've been, and we'll find new parts of the world together. But we'll always have somewhere to come home to. We'll have a home together-your home."

Elena's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "I was feeling so ... I wasn't ready to let go of it. I want that, a home we can come back to together."

Elena is my home, he thought and told her so, running his fingers over the soft skin of her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, her throat, as if he could memorize her by touch. She murmured softly back to him, her breath warm, her eyes bright with life. Stefan kissed her neck, feeling her blood beating through her veins, as steady and constant as the tides.

Elena cocked her head invitingly to one side, and he gently slid his canines beneath her skin. The first mouthful of Elena's rich, warm blood brought them even closer together, two pieces of a perfect whole. Home, he thought again.

Elena is my home.

Chapter 27

"So," Bonnie said playfully, "I couldn't help noticing a little tension between you and Stefan last night, and then this morning you're so chipper. Everything work out all right?" She waggled her eyebrows at Elena as she stirred her coffee, her spoon clinking gently against the side of the cup.

Elena could feel her cheeks heating up, which was ridiculous: She and Stefan had been living together for years. "That is a lot of pastry," she said, deflecting Bonnie's attention. "What did you do, buy out the bakery?"

They were back at Bonnie's place for breakfast, just the two of them, and Bonnie and Zander's kitchen table was heaped high with croissants, Danish, muffins, and doughnuts, as well as a big glass bowl of cut fruit and a pot of coffee.

"I know, right?" Bonnie said. "It's all Zander. It's either his way of showing how happy he is I'm home, or of making sure I get too big to get out the door again. I've never figured out if throwing all this food at me is a wolf thing or a guy thing or just a Zander thing. He's a nurturer, I guess." She stirred her coffee again and then frowned sternly at Elena. "But you're not off the hook yet. Are you and Stefan fighting?"

"I don't think it's a guy thing," Elena sidetracked. "Stefan doesn't eat and barely remembers that I do. If I didn't go to the store, there'd be nothing but blood bags and bottled water in our fridge." Bonnie shot her a look, and Elena sighed. "We're not fighting anymore. But we've still got to convince everyone else not to kill Trinity."

"I still don't understand about that. Why does everybody think Solomon is in Trinity's body?" Bonnie asked.

Elena explained. She hadn't seen Solomon-or the guy they had thought was Solomon-die, but she remembered everything Stefan and Meredith had told her, how he'd examined all of them, his intense concentration on Trinity as she'd jittered and bled. How they'd thought that Solomon was dead, but then Trinity had escaped them and turned into a powerful vampire with Solomon's yellow gaze. How the "Solomon" they'd fought wasn't originally Solomon at all, but a man named Gabriel Dalton.

Bonnie listened intently, picking at an apple turnover and asking an occasional question. When Elena finished, she shook her head, puzzled. "It doesn't sound like body-swapping to me," she said stubbornly.

"I forgot you were the expert on this," Elena said, with just a touch of sarcasm, and Bonnie made a face at her.

"Listen," Bonnie said. "All I've been doing this last month is working with people's energies. Everybody's got a very distinct flavor that's all their own."

"Like their auras," Elena said, nodding in understanding. Everyone's aura was different. "But I still haven't been able to see Solomon's aura."

"Auras, energies. Potato, potahto," Bonnie said. "Just because you couldn't see it doesn't mean it wasn't there. Somehow, Solomon can shield it from you." She put down her fork and leaned forward, fixing Elena earnestly with her wide brown eyes. "My point is, if Solomon swapped bodies with Trinity, everyone would have known right away, before Solomon-or Gabriel, or whoever-died. They'd be able to tell that it wasn't the same person." Elena started to object, and Bonnie held up her hand. "Think about it," she said. "Nobody ever thought Katherine was you for more than a few minutes, even though you looked so much alike. Different energy. Similar shells, but different inside. If the people who knew her thought it was still Trinity in there-and they hunted with her, they must know her really well-then it was Trinity."

"But when Meredith saw her, she was a vampire," Elena said helplessly. "And she had Solomon's eyes. Do you think she's possessed? That was Alaric's other theory."

"I'm pretty sure you have to be a demon to possess somebody," Bonnie said dismissively. "Old Ones aren't demons; they're just really powerful, ancient vampires." She went back to picking at her turnover, frowning thoughtfully. "I think I know what it is, though," she said.

Elena stared at her. "Go on."

Bonnie rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. "I can do a lot of things now that I couldn't do before, some of them by drawing on other people's energy, like I did last night." Elena nodded. She'd felt Bonnie tugging at her, knew she had somehow used Elena's own Power to levitate Enrique. "And if I were a bad person, a really Powerful one"-Bonnie looked at Elena-"like an Old One, I think I could go the other way."

"What do you mean?" Elena asked.

"If I were strong enough, I could take my own energy and force it into someone else instead of using their energy. I could fill them up with myself and make them do whatever I wanted. It would just be flipping the switch the other way, really."

"That sounds like possession," Elena said, confused, but Bonnie shook her head impatiently.

"No," she explained. "In possession, the demon is actually going inside the person and taking their body for their own. This would be more like a really powerful kind of compulsion.

Solomon isn't inside Trinity; he's just using her. Since he's so strong, he could transfer his own attributes-like the yellow eyes, and being a vampire-but she's just compelled. She's still there, underneath all this Power he's forcing into her."

Hope bloomed in Elena's chest. This was scary stuff, but it was also the first real suggestion that saving Trinity was a viable plan. "So you're saying Solomon does have a body, still out there somewhere," she said breathlessly. "We've been hunting the wrong targets all along-first Gabriel, and then Trinity-while the right one, the real Solomon, has stayed hidden."

Bonnie grinned and jumped up from the table, rattling the plates. She held her hand out to Elena. "Come on," she said impatiently. "If you've been looking for the wrong people all this time, maybe it's time to start trying to find the right one."

In the bedroom, Bonnie spread out a map out over the king-size bed. "This is the whole state," she told Elena. "This kind of compulsion must take a lot of Power. I don't think he could do it from somewhere farther away." She placed a purple candle on each post of the bed, carefully, then lit them all. "Purple's good for divination and psychic stuff," she explained.

She stepped across from Elena, the bed and the map between them, and stretched out her hands. "I need you to use your Guardian Power," she told her.

Elena shook her head. "It doesn't work on Solomon," she said. "I've been searching and searching for him. I couldn't find Gabriel or Trinity, either. There's no trace of them."

"Like I said, he must be able to shield himself from you somehow," Bonnie said. "He knows that you can find evil and is doing something to protect himself from you." She grinned mischievously, her teeth white in the candlelight. "But he doesn't know what I can do. Trust me."

And Elena did. She reached for Bonnie's hands, then, shutting her eyes for a moment, felt for her Power. She thought of the evil Solomon had done: taking over Trinity and the unknown Gabriel Dalton; killing gentle Andres, his blood flowing red across the bed; poor little broken Sammy.

When she opened her eyes, Elena could see Bonnie's aura, gentle and rosy pink all around her, and her own golden one next to it, but there was no trace of evil, nothing for her to follow. "You see the problem," she said.

"Just wait," Bonnie told her. She began to mutter words in some ancient language, and the candle flames stretched higher, flickered wildly, although there was no breeze. The little hairs on Elena's arms prickled.

Then, Bonnie's aura was mixing with her own, the rose and the gold looking like the shifting colors of a summer dawn. At the same time, Elena felt a gentle, insistent tugging somewhere near her collarbone-Bonnie asking let me in, let me in. Gulping nervously, she tried to open herself and let Bonnie take what she needed.

Bonnie spoke faster, the ancient words tumbling over one another in a low monotone, and then, suddenly, she fell silent. From each candle a golden ray arced over Bonnie and Elena, over the bed, to meet above the map. A single point of flame fell, scorching the map. And then the candles flickered out.

"There," Bonnie said, laying her finger on the scorch mark. "It worked."

Elena stared numbly. "We've been looking in the wrong places all along," she whispered. "Solomon's not even in Dalcrest."

Chapter 29

After more than five hundred years, Stefan didn't think he should be afraid of the dark, but something about this place unnerved him. They were deep underground in an old reservoir-water hadn't been stored here for years, but the stone was still damp and clammy, moss spotting its surface. Dim light filtered down from above, just enough to navigate by.

"It's like some kind of pagan underworld," Alaric said, wonderingly.

Stefan smiled weakly in acknowledgment but didn't reply. It was so quiet here, just the soft sound of their footsteps and a steady drip of water, somewhere out in the dark. The heavy graveyard scent of the wet stone overlaid everything, and the echo distorted sound, making it impossible for Stefan to tell if there were any noises or smells that didn't belong.

The werewolves didn't like it. They were interspersed among the humans, whining softly in protest, their tails down and their ears back unhappily. Bonnie, striding along just behind Elena, had her hand on Zander's back, her fingers twined in his thick white fur. Stefan wasn't sure who was reassuring whom.

This was Bonnie and Elena's mission, and Stefan hoped that they were right, that Solomon was here somewhere, not in Trinity's body back in Dalcrest. The tightness in Jack's face said that he was taking a lot on faith and wasn't happy about it. "Every moment that we waste here, Trinity could be murdering innocent people," he muttered to Meredith under his breath, but Stefan, with his sharp vampiric senses, heard him.

When Elena had told him that she and Bonnie believed they knew where the real Solomon was hidden-in an abandoned underground reservoir outside a small town called Stag's Crossing, about forty miles from Dalcrest-Stefan had hesitated.

But now, watching brave, beautiful Elena following a trail only she could see, Stefan had faith in her. Elena always came through.

It was getting colder, he realized suddenly. Frost crunched under his heels. Meredith, usually so sure-footed, slipped and swore as she struggled to regain her balance. The wolves drew closer to the humans, and Tristan let out an uneasy whine.

They rounded a corner, and something moved ahead of them in the dim light. Matt flicked up his crossbow and shot without hesitating.

The crossbow bolt stopped in midair and clattered to the ground.

Stefan tried to leap forward and found that, just like at the Plantation Museum, his muscles refused to obey him. The others in front of him were equally still, Zander frozen with one paw raised, Bonnie in the act of turning her head to look toward Elena.

Solomon stepped out of the darkness.

He was not, Stefan thought with a shock of surprise, particularly impressive. At first glance, he was a small, almost timid-looking man, the type of person you might pass on the street without a second look. Nothing like handsome Gabriel Dalton or tall, sweet-faced Trinity. His light brown hair straggled down past his ears, and his shoulders were hunched. Were it not for the Power that held them all helpless, Solomon would have been easy to underestimate.

Then he looked up and his eyes flashed golden in the darkness, and Stefan knew this was him. Those eyes were full of cold intelligence and pure malice, the eyes of something slimy and primeval that had watched from under a rock for countless millennia as civilizations rose and fell.

Solomon stepped closer to them, closer to Elena, and Stefan went cold with dread.

His worst fears were being realized, and there was nothing Stefan could do about it. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. All he could do was watch as everything that mattered to him was about to be destroyed.

"A pretty girl," Solomon said, his voice dry and rasping, and reached a hand out to touch Elena's face.

Stefan wanted to scream with rage, wanted to strike Solomon and knock him back, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move.

Almost gently, Solomon traced a finger over Elena's cheekbones, over her soft lips, across her delicate chin. And everywhere he touched, Elena began to bleed, tiny droplets coming through her skin and running down the surface of her face. Stefan could smell the richness of Elena's blood everywhere, and his canines throbbed and lengthened against his will.

"Lovely," Solomon said approvingly. He stroked his fingers through Elena's blood, smearing it in feathery patterns across her face. "Perfect."

There were footsteps coming toward them, and Solomon looked up, his golden eyes sharp. Stefan's hopes rose for a second. Maybe this was someone who could help them.

"There you are," Solomon said approvingly, and Stefan's heart sank again. Even though he couldn't see her yet, he knew who it was. Trinity. Whatever was left of her, fully in thrall to this wicked Old One.

Please, not Elena. Let her live, he prayed to the God he had believed in unquestioningly as a human. A stream of blood ran down Elena's chin, dripping to stain her shirt. She was terribly pale.

Beyond Elena, he could see Solomon, his golden eyes following Trinity. She hesitated directly behind Stefan, then passed him by. A moment later there was the sound of skin striking skin and a steady trickle of liquid hitting the stone floor. Blood, Stefan realized with horror, smelling the coppery, rich scent. Trinity had hurt someone, but he didn't know who.

Solomon smiled. "Come here," he ordered.

Trinity walked straight to Solomon and stood before him, her hands folded in front of her and her face upturned to his in a parody of an obedient child. Golden eyes gazed into golden eyes, and Solomon's smile broadened.

"Hunters," he said slowly. "Your old friends. Which shall we kill first?" He looked from one side of the group to the other, slowly, and then nodded. "Jack, of course." His gaze narrowed on the hunter, next to Stefan. "I don't trust him."

Trinity came back toward them, her shoulder brushing Stefan's as she stretched to reach Jack's throat. She gave a soft sound of satisfaction as her teeth pierced his vein. Stefan could smell her now. She stank revoltingly of old blood and sweat.

Solomon stretched out a hand toward Elena again, his fingernails long and black with filth. Tracing one across Elena's collarbone, he sighed theatrically. "So pretty," he said again. "I'd like to keep you, little Guardian, make you mine." Where his finger traced, Elena's skin split open, blood pouring out over her collarbone, down across her chest, staining her shirt with gore. "Sadly, though, I think I should get rid of you now. Your blood is too much a danger to me," Solomon finished quietly.

Staring helplessly straight ahead, Stefan wanted to die. He would gladly die, if it would protect Elena.

Elena's arm quivered.

At first Stefan thought it was an illusion of the dim, wavery light. But then Bonnie blinked, a slow, definite blink. They were still touching, he realized. They were working together, in the same way that they had managed to work together to locate Solomon.

Elena's eyes flicked to meet Stefan's, clear, brilliant blue despite the blood running down her face. In them he could read her message: Be ready.

It was so cold that the first touch of warmth spreading inside him felt like fire. He knew without questioning that it came from Elena.

Trinity was feeding from Jack beside him, making thick slurping noises. Solomon glanced away from Elena for a moment, watching whatever horror his puppet was perpetrating, and then turned his gaze back to her, drawing a knife from a sheath at his waist. Stefan recognized it: It had once been Trinity's. A hunter's knife.

The burning warmth filled his body. Stefan knew he would only get this one chance, and that only if he were very lucky. Solomon pressed the knife slowly against Elena's throat. Suddenly, Stefan sucked in a breath, all his muscles screaming in protest as he forced them to move at once. Lunging forward with a massive effort, Stefan raised his machete and brought it across Solomon's neck.

Solomon's body fell slowly and as it landed, the ice beneath him cracked. For a long moment, everything was silent. Then Trinity fell backward to the ground and began to sob.

Stefan couldn't look away from Solomon, a small skinny body on the cold stone floor. He looked so inconsequential. How many people had he sent out to the world to dance at his command? Jack had been right: Solomon left no trace, because he didn't need to be there to destroy.

When Stefan finally tore his eyes away, he saw that Trinity was kneeling next to Jack, his head cradled in her hands. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, her eyes their normal, untroubled blue. "Oh, my God. I don't ... it's all like a dream. A nightmare."

"It's okay, Trinity," Jack reassured her. Blood was still streaming from the bite on his neck, but he wiped it away. "It's all going to be all right."

And then Elena was in Stefan's arms, whispering, "We did it, we did it," kissing his face and holding him so tight he thought she might never let him go. The open cut on her collarbone was barely beginning to clot. Stefan automatically bit his own wrist and held it out for her.

"Drink," he said. She bent to suck at his wrist, and he watched her affectionately. "You did it," he told her. "You and Bonnie." He could feel the glorious, thankful strength of Elena, and he lost himself in it, feeling his own triumph and relief echoed back to him.

We're free at last, he told her silently. We can finally live in peace.