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

Chapter Thirty

"Cappuccino and a croissant?" the waitress said, and, at Elena's nod, set them down on the table. Elena pushed her notebooks aside to make room. Midterms were coming up, on top of everything else that was happening. Elena had tried studying in her room but was too distracted by the sight of Bonnie's empty bed. She and Meredith were all wrong without Bonnie.

She hadn't gotten much done here at the cafe, either, despite getting one of the prime big outdoor tables that she could spread her books out on. She'd tried, but her mind kept circling back to Samantha's death.

Samantha was such a nice girl, Elena thought. Elena remembered how her eyes lit up when she laughed and the way she bounced on the balls of her feet as if she was bursting to move, run, dance, too full of energy to sit still .

Meredith didn't make new friends that easily, but the wary coolness she usually wore with strangers had relaxed around Samantha.

When Elena had left the dorm, Meredith was on the phone with Alaric. Maybe he would know what to say, how to comfort her. Unwilling to break into their conversation, Elena left her a note indicating where she would be if Meredith needed her.

Stirring her coffee, Elena looked up to see Meredith coming toward her. The taller girl sat down across from Elena and fixed her with her serious gray eyes. "Alaric says Dalcrest is a hot spot for paranormal activity," she said.

"Black magic, vampires, werewolves, the whole package." Elena nodded and added more sugar to her cup. "Just as Professor Campbell hinted," she said thoughtfully. "I get the feeling he knows more than he's saying."

"You need to push him," Meredith said tightly. "If he liked your parents so much, he'll feel like he has to tell you the truth. We don't have time to waste." She reached out and broke off a piece of Elena's croissant. "Can I have this? I haven't had anything to eat today, and I'm starting to feel dizzy."

Looking at the strained lines on Meredith's face, the dark shadows under her eyes, Elena felt a sharp stab of sympathy. "Of course," she said, pushing the plate toward her. "I just called Damon to come meet me." She watched as Meredith decimated the croissant, stirring still more sugar into her coffee. Elena felt in need of comfort.

It wasn't long before they saw Damon sauntering down the street toward them, his hair sleek and perfect, his all -

black clothes casual y elegant, sunglasses on. Heads turned as he walked by, and Elena distinctly saw one girl miss her footing and fall off the curb.

"That was fast," Elena said, as Damon pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I'm fast," Damon answered, "and you said it was important."

"It is," Elena said. "Our friend Samantha is dead." Damon jerked his head in acknowledgment. "I know.

The police are all over campus. As if they'll be able to do anything."

"What do you mean?" asked Meredith, glaring at him.

"Well, these killings don't exactly fall under the police's agency, do they?" Damon reached out and plucked Elena's coffee cup from her hand. He took a sip, then made a small moue of distaste. "Darling, this is far too sweet." Meredith's hands were balling into fists, and Elena thought she had better speed things up. "Damon, if you know something about this, please tell us." Damon handed her back her cappuccino and signaled the waitress to bring him one of his own. "To tell you the truth, darling, I don't know much about Samantha's death, or that of Mutt's roommate, whatever his name was. I couldn't get close enough to the bodies to have any real information. But I've found definite evidence that there are other vampires on campus. Sloppy ones." His face twisted into the same expression he'd made after tasting Elena's coffee. "Probably newly made, I'd guess. No technique at all."

"What kind of evidence?" Meredith asked.

Damon looked surprised. "Bodies of course. Very poorly disposed of bodies. Shallow graves, bonfires, that kind of thing."

Elena frowned. "So the people who have disappeared were killed by vampires?"

Damon wagged a finger at her teasingly. "I didn't say that. The bodies I examined - and let me tell you, digging up a shallow grave was real y a first for me - were not the same ones that vanished from campus. I don't know if your missing students were killed by vampires or not, but somebody else was. Several somebodies. I've been trying to find these vampires, but I haven't had any luck. Yet." Meredith, who normal y would have jumped on Damon's comment about this being his first time digging up a grave, looked thoughtful. "I saw Samantha's body," she said hesitantly. "It didn't look like a typical vampire attack to me.

And from the way Matt described Christopher's body, I don't think his did, either. They were" - she took a deep breath - "mauled. Torn apart."

"It could be a pack of really angry vampires, or messy ones," Damon said. "Or werewolves might be vicious like that. It's more their style." The waitress appeared with his cappuccino, and he thanked her graciously. She retreated, blushing.

"There's another thing," Elena said once the waitress was out of hearing range. She glanced inquiringly at Meredith, who nodded at her. "We're worried about Bonnie and her new boyfriend." Quickly, she outlined the reasons they had for being suspicious of Zander and Bonnie's reaction to their concerns.

Damon raised one eyebrow as he finished his drink.

"So you think the little redbird's suitor might be dangerous?" He smiled. "I'll look into it, princess. Don't worry."

Dropping a few dollars on the table, he rose and sauntered across the street, disappearing into a grove of maples. A few minutes later, a large black crow with shining iridescent feathers rose above the trees, flapping its wings powerfully. It gave a raucous caw and flew away.

"That was surprisingly helpful of him," Meredith said. Her face was still tired and drawn, but her voice was interested.

Elena didn't have to look up to know that her friend was watching her speculatively. Eyes demurely downward, feeling her cheeks flush pink, she took another sip of her cappuccino. Damon was right. It was much too sweet.

Chapter Thirty-One

Why do they always want to be on top of buildings?

Bonnie thought irritably. Inside. Inside is nice. No one falls to their death if they're inside a building. But here we are.

Stargazing from the top of the science building while on a date with Zander was romantic. Bonnie would be al for another little nighttime picnic, just the two of them. But partying on a different roof with a bunch of Zander's friends was not romantic, not even slightly.

She took a sip of her drink and moved out of the way without even looking as she heard the smack of bodies hitting the ground and the grunts of guys wrestling. After two days of living with Zander, she was beginning to get the names of his friends straight: Tristan and Marcus were the ones rolling around on the floor with Zander. Jonah, Camden, and Spencer were doing something they called parkour, which mostly seemed to involve running around like idiots and almost falling off the roof. Enrique, Jared, Daniel, and Chad were all playing an elaborate drinking game in the corner. There were a few more guys who hung around sometimes, but this was the core group.

She liked them, she really did. Most of the time. They were boisterous, sure, but they were always very nice to her: getting her drinks, immediately handing her their jackets if she was cold, telling her that they had no idea what she saw in a loser like Zander, which was clearly their guy way of declaring how much they loved him and that they were happy he had a girlfriend.

She looked over at Zander, who was laughing as he held Tristan in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over the top of Tristan's head. "Do you give in?" he said, and grunted in surprise as Marcus, whooping joyfully, tackled them both.

It would have been easier if there were other girls around that she could get to know. If Marcus (who was very cute in a giant shaggy-haired Sasquatch kind of way) or Spencer (who had the kind of preppy rich-boy elegance that some girls found extremely attractive) had a regular girlfriend, Bonnie would have someone to exchange wry glances with as the guys acted like doofuses.

But, even though a girl would occasionally appear clinging to the arm of one of the guys, Bonnie would never see her again after that night. Except for Bonnie, Zander seemed to travel in an almost exclusively masculine world.

And, after two days of following the macho parade around town, Bonnie was starting to get sick of it. She missed having girls to talk to. She missed Elena and Meredith, specifically, even though she was still mad at them.

"Hey," she said, making her way over to Zander. "Want to get out of here for a while?"

Zander wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Um.

Why?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her neck.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "It's kind of loud, don't you think?

We could go for a nice quiet walk or something." Zander looked surprised but nodded. "Sure, whatever you want."

They made their way down the fire escape, followed by a few shouts from Zander's friends, who seemed to think he was going on a food run and would shortly return with hot wings and tacos.

Once they were a block away from the rooftop party, the noise faded and it was peaceful, except for the distant sound of an occasional car on the roads nearby. Bonnie knew she ought to feel creeped out, walking around at night on campus, but she didn't. Not with Zander's hand in hers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Bonnie said happily, gazing up at the half moon overhead.

"Yeah," Zander said, swinging her hand between them.

"You know, I used to go on long walks - runs, really - with my dad at night. Way out in the country, in the moonlight. I love being outside at night."

"Aw, that's sweet," Bonnie said. "Do you guys still do that when you're home?"

"No." Zander hesitated and hunched his shoulders, his hair hanging in his face. Bonnie couldn't read his expression. "My dad ... he died. A while ago."

"I'm so sorry," Bonnie said sincerely, squeezing his hand.

"I'm okay," Zander said, still staring at his shoes. "But, y'know, I don't have any brothers or sisters, and the guys have sort of become like a family to me. I know they can be a pain sometimes, but they're really good guys. And they're important to me." He glanced at Bonnie out of the corner of his eyes.

He looked so apprehensive, Bonnie felt a sharp pang of affection for him. It was sweet that Zander and his friends were so close - that must have been the family stuff he had to deal with the other night. He was loyal, that much she knew. "Zander," she said. "I know they're important to you. I don't want to take you away from your friends, you goof." She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Maybe just for an hour or two sometimes, but not for long, I promise." Zander returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and Bonnie tingled all the way down to her toes.

Clinging to each other, they made their way to a bench by the side of the path and sat down to kiss some more.

Zander just felt so good under her hands, al sleek muscles and smooth skin, and Bonnie ran her hands across his shoulders, along his arms, down his sides.

At her touch, Zander suddenly winced.

"What's the matter?" she said, lifting her head away from his.

"Nothing," said Zander, reaching for her. "I was just messing around with the guys, you know. They play rough."

"Let me see," Bonnie said, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, half concerned and half wanting to just check out Zander's abs. He had turned out to be surprisingly modest, considering they were sharing a room.

Wincing again, he sucked his breath in through his teeth as Bonnie lifted his shirt. She gasped. Zander's whole side was covered with ugly black-and-purple bruises.

"Zander," Bonnie said horrified, "these look really bad.

You don't get bruises like that just messing around." They look like you were fighting for your life - or someone else was, she thought, and pushed away the words.

"They're nothing. Don't worry," Zander said, tugging his shirt back down. He started to wrap his arms around her again, but Bonnie moved away, feeling vaguely sickened.

"I wish you'd tell me what happened," she said.

"I did," Zander said comfortingly. "You know how crazy those guys get."

It was true, she'd never known guys so rowdy. Zander reached for her again, and this time Bonnie moved closer to him, turning her face up for his kiss. As their lips met, she remembered Zander's saying to her, "You know me. You see me."

She did know him, Bonnie told herself. She could trust Zander.

Across the street, Damon stood in the shadow of a tree, watching Bonnie kiss Zander.

He had to admit he felt a little pang, seeing her in the arms of someone else. There was something so sweet about Bonnie, and she was brave and intelligent under that cotton-candy exterior. The witchy angle added a little touch of spice to her, too. He'd always thought of her as his.

Then again, didn't the little redbird deserve someone of her own? As much as Damon liked her, he didn't love her, he knew that. Seeing the lanky boy's face light up in response to her smile, he thought maybe this one would.

After making out for a few more minutes, Bonnie and Zander stood up and wandered, hand in hand, toward what Damon knew was Zander's dorm. Damon trailed them, keeping to the shadows.

He huffed out a breath of self-mocking laughter. I'm getting soft in my old age, he thought. Back in the old days he would have eaten Bonnie without a second thought, and here he was worrying about her love life.

Still , it would be nice if the little redhead could be happy.

If her boyfriend wasn't a threat.

Damon fully expected the happy couple to disappear into the dorm together. Instead, Zander kissed Bonnie good-bye and watched as she went inside, then headed back out. Damon followed him, keeping hidden, as he went back to the party where they'd been before. A few minutes later, Zander came down again, trailed by his pack of noisy boys.

Damon twitched in irritation. God save me from college boys, he thought. They were probably going to gorge themselves on greasy bar food. After a couple of days of watching Zander, he was ready to go back to Elena and report that the boy was guilty of nothing more than being uncouth.

Instead of heading toward the nearest bar, though, the boys jogged across campus, quick and determined, as if they had an important destination in mind. Reaching the edge of campus, they headed into the woods.

Damon gave them a few seconds and then followed.

He was good at this, he was a predator, a natural hunter, and so it took him a few minutes of listening, of sending his Power out, of finally just racing through the woods, black branches snapping before him, to realize that Zander and his boys were gone.

Final y, Damon stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The woods were silent except for the innocent sound of various woodland creatures going about their business and his own ragged panting. That pack of noisy, obnoxious children had escaped him, disappearing without the slightest trace. He gritted his teeth and tamped down his anger at being evaded, until it was mostly curiosity about how they'd done it.

Poor Bonnie, Damon thought as he fastidiously smoothed and adjusted his clothing. One thing was abundantly clear: Zander and his friends weren't entirely human.

Stefan twitched. This was all just kind of strange.

He was sitting in a velvet-backed chair in a huge underground room, as college students roamed around arranging flowers and candles. The room was impressive, Stefan would give them that: cavernous yet elegant. But the little arrangements of flowers seemed chintzy and false somehow, like a stage set in the Vatican. And the black-masked figures lurking in the back of the room, watching, were giving him the jitters.

Matt had called him to tell him about some kind of college secret society that he'd joined, and that the leader wanted Stefan to join, too. Stefan agreed to meet him and talk about it. He never was much of a joiner, but he liked Matt, and it was something to do.

It would take his mind off Elena, he'd thought. Lurking around campus - and it felt like lurking, when he saw Elena, with the way his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her even as he hurried out of sight - he'd watched her. Sometimes she was with Damon. Stefan's fingernails bit into his palms.

Consciously relaxing, he turned his attention back to Ethan, who was sitting across a small table from him.

"The members of the Vitale Society hold a very special place in the world," he was saying, leaning forward, smiling.

"Only the best of the best can hope to be tapped, and the qualities we look for I think are very Wellexemplified in you, Stefan."

Stefan nodded politely and let his mind drift again.

Secret societies were something he actually knew a little about. Sir Walter Raleigh's School of Night in Elizabethan England wrestled with what was then forbidden knowledge: science and philosophy the church declared out of bounds.

Il Carbonari back home in Italy worked to encourage revolt against the government of the various city-states, aiming for a unification of al of Italy. Damon, Stefan knew, toyed with the members of the Hel fire Club in London for a few months in the 1700s, until he got bored with their posturing and childish blasphemy.

Al those secret societies, though, had some kind of purpose. Rebelling against conventional morality, pursuing truth, revolution.

Stefan leaned forward. "Pardon me," he said politely,

"but what is the point of the Vitale Society?" Ethan paused midspeech to stare at him, then wet his lips. "Well," he said slowly, "the real secrets and rituals of the Society can't be unveiled to outsiders. None of the pledges know our true practices and purposes, not yet. But I can tell you that there are innumerable benefits to being one of us. Travel, adventure, power."

"None of the pledges know your real purpose?" Stefan asked. His natural inclination to stay away was becoming more resolute. "Why don't you wear a mask like the others?"

Ethan looked surprised. "I'm the face of the Vitale for the pledges," he said simply. "They'll need someone they know to guide them."

Stefan made up his mind. He didn't want to be guided.

"I apologize, Ethan," he said formally, "but I don't think I would be an appropriate candidate for your organization. I appreciate the invitation." He started to rise.

"Wait," said Ethan. His eyes were wide and golden and had a hungry, eager expression in them. "Wait," he said, licking his lips again. "We ... we have a copy of Pico del a Mirandola's De hominis dignitate." He stumbled over the words as if he didn't quite know what they were. "An old one, from Florence, a first edition. You'd get to read it. You could have it if you wanted."

Stefan stiffened. He had studied Mirandola's work on reason and philosophy with enthusiasm back when he was still alive, when he was a young man preparing for the university. He had a sudden visceral longing to feel the old leather and parchment, see the blocky type from the first days of the printing press, so much more right somehow than the modern computer-set books. There was no way Ethan should have known to offer him that specific book.

His eyes narrowed.

"What makes you think I'd want that?" he hissed, leaning across the table toward Ethan. He could feel Power surging through him, fueled by his rage, but Ethan wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I ... you told me you like old books, Stefan," he said, and gave a little false laugh, gazing down at the tabletop. "I thought you would be interested."

"No, thank you," Stefan said, low and angry. He couldn't force Ethan to look him in the eye, not with all these people around, so after a moment, he stood. "I refuse your offer," he told Ethan shortly. "Good-bye."

He walked to the door without looking back, holding himself straight and tall . He glanced at Matt, who was talking to another student, as he reached the door and, when Matt met his eyes, gave him a shrug and a shake of the head, trying to telegraph an apology. Matt nodded, disappointed but not arguing.

No one tried to stop Stefan as he left the room. But he had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something wrong here. He didn't know enough to dissuade Matt from joining, but he decided to keep tabs on the Vitale Society. As he shut the door behind him, he could sense Ethan watching him.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Moonlight shone in the window, iluminating a long swath of Elena's bed. Meredith had tossed and turned for a while, but now Elena could hear her steady breathing. It was good that Meredith was sleeping. She was exhausting herself: working out constantly, patrolling every night, making sure all her weapons were in prime condition, wild with frustration that they weren't able to find any solid clues as to the killer's identity.

But it was lonely being the only one awake.

Elena stretched her legs under the sheets and flipped over her pillow to rest her head on the cooler side.

Branches tapped against the window, and Elena wiggled her shoulders against the mattress, trying to calm her busy mind. She wished Bonnie would come home.

The tapping on the window came again, then again, sharp peremptory raps.

Slowly, it dawned on Elena, a little late, that there weren't any trees whose branches touched that window.

Heart pounding, she sat up with a gasp.

Eyes black as night peered in the window, skin as pale as the moonlight. It took Elena's brain a minute to start working again, but then she was out of bed and opening the window. He was so quick and graceful that by the time she shut the window and turned around, Damon was seated on her bed, leaning back on his elbows and looking totally at ease.

"Some vampire hunter she is," he said coolly, looking over at Meredith as she made a soft whuffling sound into her pillow. His gaze, though, was almost affectionate.

"That's not fair," Elena said. "She's exhausted."

"Someday her life might depend on her staying alert even when she's exhausted," Damon said pointedly.

"Okay, but today is not that day," Elena said. "Leave Meredith alone and tel me what you've found out about Zander." Sitting down cross-legged on the bed next to him, she leaned forward to give Damon her full attention.

Damon took her hand, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers. "I haven't learned anything definite," he said, "but I have suspicions."

"What do you mean?" Elena said, distracted. Damon was stroking her arm lightly with his other hand, feather touches, and she realized he was watching her closely, waiting to see if she would object. Inwardly, she shrugged a little. What did it matter, after all ? Stefan had left her; there was no reason now to push Damon away. She glanced over at Meredith, but the dark-haired girl was still deeply asleep.

Damon's dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, because he leaned closer to her on the bed, pulling her snugly against him. "I need to investigate a little more," Damon said.

"There's definitely something off about him and those boys he runs around with. They're too fast, for one thing. But I don't think Bonnie's in any immediate danger." Elena stiffened in his arms. "What proof do you have of that?" she asked. "And it's not just Bonnie. If anyone's in danger, they have to be our top priority."

"I'll watch them, don't worry." He chuckled, a dry, intimate sound. "He and Bonnie are certainly getting close. She seems besotted."

Elena twisted away from his careful hands, feeling anxious. "If he could be dangerous, if there's anything off about him the way you say, we have to warn her about him.

We can't just sit by watching and waiting for him to do something wrong. By then, it might be too late." Damon pulled her back to him, his hand flat and steady against her side. "You already tried warning Bonnie, and that didn't work, did it? Why would she listen to you now that she's spent more time with him, bonding with him, and nothing bad's happened to her?" He shook his head. "It won't work, princess."

"I just wish we could do something," Elena said miserably.

"If I had gotten a look at the bodies," Damon said thoughtfully, "I might have more of an idea of what could be behind this. I suppose breaking into the morgue is out of the question?"

Elena considered this. "I think they've probably released the bodies by now," she said doubtfully, "and I'm not sure where they'd take them next. Wait!" She sat up straight.

"The campus security office would have something, wouldn't they? Records, or maybe even pictures of Christopher's and Samantha's bodies? The campus officers were all over the crime scenes before the police got there."

"We can check it out tomorrow, certainly," Damon said casual y. "If it will make you feel better." His voice and expression were almost disinterested, provokingly so, and once again, Elena felt the strange mixture of desire and irritation that Damon often sparked in her. She wanted to shove him away and pull him closer at the same time.

She had almost decided on shoving him away when he turned to look her full in the face. "My poor Elena," he said in a soothing murmur, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He ran a soft hand up her arm, shoulder, and neck, coming to rest gently against her jawline. "You can't get away from the dark creatures, can you, Elena? No matter how you try.

Come to a new place, find a new monster." He stroked her face with one finger. His words were almost mocking, but his voice was gentle and his eyes shone with emotion.

Elena pressed her cheek against his hand. Damon was elegant and clever, and something in him spoke to the dark, secret part of her. She couldn't deny that she was drawn to him - that she'd always been drawn to him, even when they first met and he scared her. And Elena had loved him since that winter night when she awoke as a vampire and he cared for her, protected her, and taught her what she needed to know.

Stefan had left her. There was no reason why she shouldn't do this. "I don't always want to get away from the dark creatures, Damon," she said.

He was silent for a moment, his hand stroking her cheek automatically, and then he kissed her. His lips were like cool silk against hers, and Elena felt as if she had been wandering for hours in a desert and had finally been given a cold drink of water.

She kissed him harder, letting go of his hand to twine her fingers through his soft hair.

Pulling away from her mouth, Damon kissed her neck gently, waiting for permission. Elena dropped her head back to give him better access. She heard Damon's breath hiss through his teeth, and he looked into her eyes for a moment, his face soft and more open than she'd ever seen it, before he lowered his face to her neck again.

The twin wasp stings of his fangs hurt for a moment, and then she was sliding through darkness, following a ribbon of aching pleasure that led her through the night, led her to Damon. She felt his joy and wonder at having her in his arms without guilt, without reserve. In return she let him feel her happiness in him and her confusion over wanting him and still loving Stefan, her pain at Stefan's absence. There was no guilt, not now, but there was a huge Stefan-shaped hole in her heart, and she let Damon see it.

It's all right, Elena, she felt from him, not quite in words, but in a rock-solid contentment, like the purr of a cat. All I want is this.

Chapter Thirty-Three
  
Ethan was, Matt observed, totally freaking out. The guy's usual cheerful composure had worn off, and he was supervising the initiation arrangements with the intensity of a drill sergeant.

"No!" he snarled from across the room. He darted over and slapped the leg of a girl who was standing on a chair and weaving roses through the welded metal V at the top of the central arch.

"Ouch!" she yelled, dropping the roses to the floor.

"Ethan, what is your problem?"

"We don't put anything on the V, Lorelai," he told her coldly, and bent to pick up the flowers. "You must respect the symbols of the Vitale Society. It's a matter of honor.

When our leader finally joins us, we must demonstrate to him that we are disciplined, that we are capable." He shoved the roses back into her hands. "We don't do that by draping garbage all over the symbol of our organization." Lorelai stared at him. "I'm sorry. But I thought you were the leader of the Vitale Society, Ethan." Everyone had stopped working to watch Ethan's melt-down. Noticing that he was the center of attention, Ethan breathed deeply, clearly trying to regain his composure.

Final y he addressed them all, biting off his words sharply. "I am trying to prepare you all, and to prepare this chamber, for the initiation ceremony. For you." His voice was steadily rising as he glared around at them. "And this is when I learn that, despite all your promise, you're a bunch of incompetents. You can't even place a candle or mix some herbs without my help. We're running out of time, and I might as Welljust be doing everything myself." Matt glanced around at the other pledges. Their faces were shocked and wary. Like him, all along they had been looking up to Ethan and were flattered and encouraged by his praise. Now their role model had turned on them, and no one seemed to know how to react. Chloe, setting out candles by the arch, was anxious, her lips pressed together tightly. She looked quickly at Matt and then away, back toward Ethan.

"Just tell us what you want us to do, Ethan," Matt said, stepping forward. He tried to keep his voice level and soothing. "We'll do our best to make everything perfect." Ethan glowered at him. "You couldn't even get your friend Stefan to join us," he said bitterly. "One simple task, and you failed."

"Hey," Matt said, offended. "That's not fair. I got Stefan to come talk to you. If he's not interested, that's his decision. He doesn't have to join us."

"I question your commitment to the Vitale Society, Matt," Ethan said flatly. "And the conversation with Stefan Salvatore is not over." He walked straight past Matt, glancing briefly at the rest of the pledges gathered around him. "There's not much time, everyone. Get back to work." Matt could feel the beginnings of a headache starting at his temples. For the first time, he wondered if maybe he didn't want to join the Vitale Society after all.

"I could have this door open in a single second," Damon said irritably. "Instead we stand here, waiting." Meredith sighed and careful y wiggled the bobby pin in the lock. "If you force the door open, Damon, they'll know right away that someone broke into the campus security office. By picking the lock instead, we can keep a low profile. Okay?" The bobby pin caught on something, and she carefully slid it upward, trying to turn it to catch the pins of the lock so she could move the tumbler. Then the bobby pin bent, and she lost the angle. She groaned and dug into her bag for another bobby pin. "Twenty-seven weapons," she grumbled. "I brought twenty-seven separate weapons to college and not a single lock pick."

"Well, you couldn't be prepared for everything," Elena said. "What about using a credit card?"

"Being prepared for everything is sort of my job description," Meredith muttered. She sat back on her heels and stared at the door. The lock was pretty flimsy: not only Damon but either she or Elena could have easily forced it open. And yes, a credit card or something similar probably would work just fine. Dropping the bobby pin into her open bag, she took out her wallet instead and found her student ID.

The ID slid right into the crack between the door and the doorjamb, she gave it a careful little wiggle, and, bingo, she was able to easily slide the lock back and pull the door open. Meredith smiled over her shoulder at Elena, arching one eyebrow. "That was strangely satisfying," she said.

Once they were inside and the door was locked again behind them, Meredith checked to make sure the windows were covered, then flicked on the lights.

The security office was simply furnished: white walls, two desks, each with a computer, one with a forgotten half cup of coffee on top, and a filing cabinet. There was a dying plant on the windowsill , its leaves dry and browning.

"We're sure that none of the officers are going to show up and catch us?" Elena asked nervously.

"I told you, I checked their routine," Meredith answered.

"After eight o'clock, all but one of the security guards on duty is patrolling the campus. The one who isn't is sitting in the downstairs lobby of the administration building, keeping in radio contact with the others and helping students who lock themselves out of their dorms and stuff."

"Well, let's get it over with," Damon said. "I don't particularly relish the idea of spending the whole evening in this dismal little hole."

His voice sounded both Wellbred and bored, as usual, but there was something different about him. He was standing very close to Elena, so close that his arm was brushing against hers, and, as Meredith watched, his hand came up to touch Elena's back very lightly, just with his fingertips. There was a slight secretive curve to his mouth, almost as if Damon was even more pleased with himself than usual.

"Well?" he asked, gazing back at Meredith. "What now, hunter?"

Elena stepped away from him and knelt in front of the filing cabinet before Meredith could answer, sliding the top drawer open. "What was Samantha's last name? Her file's probably under that."

"Dixon," Meredith told her, pushing away the little shock she kept getting whenever anyone referred to Samantha in the past tense. It was just ... she'd been so full of life. "And Christopher's was Nowicki."

Elena rifled through the files in both drawers, pulling out first one thick folder and then a second. "Got them." She opened Samantha's folder and made a sick little sound in her throat. "They're ... worse than I thought," she said, her voice shaking as she looked at pictures from the murder scene. She turned over a few pages. "And here's the coroner's report. It says she died from blood loss."

"Let me see," Meredith said. She took the file and made herself study the crime scene pictures to see if she had missed anything when she was there. Her eyes kept flinching away from Sam's poor defenseless body, so she swallowed hard and focused on the areas away from the body, the floor, the walls of Samantha's room. "Blood loss because she was killed by a vampire? Or because there's so much blood everywhere else?" She was proud of how steady her own voice was, steadier than Elena's anyway.

She held out the folder toward Damon. "What do you think?" she asked.

Damon took the folder and studied the photos dispassionately, flipping a few pages to read the coroner's report. Then he held out his hand to Elena for Christopher's file and looked through that one as Well.

"I can't tell anything for certain," he said after a few minutes. "Just like with the bodies I found, they could have been killed by werewolves, who are primitive like this. Or it could have been sloppy vampires. Demons, easily. Even humans could do this, if they were sufficiently motivated." Elena made a soft sound of denial, and Damon flashed his brilliant sudden grin at her. "Oh, don't forget that humans can come up with far more creative means of violence than some simple hungry monsters do, sweetheart." Serious again, he looked down at the photographs once more. "I can tell you, though, that more than one creature - or person - was responsible."

His finger traced a line across one of the pictures, and Meredith forced herself to look. Bloodstains were spattered in wide arcs across the room, beyond Samantha's outstretched arms. "See the way the blood sprayed here?" Damon asked. "Someone held her hands and someone else held her feet, and at least one other, maybe more, killed her." He flipped open Christopher's folder again.

"Same thing. This might be evidence that werewolves are the culprits, since they like to travel in packs, but it isn't firm proof. You can get groups of almost anything. Even vampires: they're not all as self-sufficient as I am."

"Matt saw only one person - or whatever - near Chris's body, though," Elena pointed out. "And he got there really soon after Christopher screamed."

Damon waved a disparaging hand. "So they were fast," he said. "A vampire could do it before a human had time to even react to the scream. Almost anything supernatural could. Speed comes with the package."

Meredith shuddered. "A whole pack of something," she said numbly. "One would have been bad enough."

"A pack's much worse," Damon agreed. "Are you ready to go now?"

"We'd better check and see if there's anything else and then clean up," Elena said. "Do you want to stand guard outside? I feel like we're really tempting fate by staying here so long. You could give some kind of signal if you see someone coming or use your Power to get rid of them. Please?"

Damon smiled at her flirtatiously. "I'll be your watchdog, princess, but only because it's you."

Meredith waited until he left to say dryly, "Speaking of dogs, remember when Damon killed Bonnie's pet pug?" Elena opened the top file drawer again and started going through it methodically. "I don't want to talk about this, Meredith. It was Katherine who killed Yangtze, anyway."

"I just don't think you realize what you're getting into here," Meredith said. "Damon's not terrific relationship material."

Elena's hands faltered in their efficient progress. "I don't

... it's not like that," she said. "It's not a relationship, I don't want a relationship with anyone but Stefan." Meredith frowned, confused. "Well, then, what - "

"It's complicated," Elena said. "I care about Damon, you know that. I'm seeing where things might go with him.

There's something between us, there always has been.

With Stefan gone" - her voice cracked - "I have to give it a chance. Just ... just let it alone for now, okay?" She picked up Samantha's folder to put it back in the drawer. Her lips were trembling, and Meredith was about to pursue the subject: she wasn't going to let it alone. Not when Elena was upset and somehow involved - more involved than she had been before - with Damon the dangerous vampire. But Elena interrupted her. "Huh," she said. "What do you think this means?"

Meredith craned to see what she was talking about, and Elena pointed. On the inside front of Samantha's file was written a large black V. She picked up Christopher's file.

"This one, too," she said, showing Elena.

"Vampires?" Elena asked. "The Vitale Society? What else starts with V and might have to do with these murders?"

"I don't know," Meredith started to say, when they suddenly heard the rumble of a car engine pulling up outside the building. A raucous caw came through the window.

"That's Damon," Elena said, shoving Christopher's file back into the cabinet. "If we don't want him to have to compel the whole security force, we'd better get out of here fast."

Chapter Thirty-Four
  
"I like your place," Elena told Damon, looking around.

She'd been mildly surprised when he invited her to dinner. A conventional date wasn't something she ever associated with Damon, but on her way over she had been tingling with excitement and curiosity. Despite having lived in the same palace as Damon in the Dark Dimension, she had never seen a home he'd made for himself. For all his brashness, she realized, Damon was oddly private.

She would have expected his apartment to be gothically decorated in blacks and reds, like the vampire manors she'd visited in the Dark Dimension. But it wasn't like that at all. Instead, it was minimalist, sleek and elegant in its simplicity, with clean pale walls, lots of windows, furniture in glass and metal, and soft cool colors.

It suited him somehow. If you didn't look too deeply into his dark, ancient eyes, he could have been a handsome young model or architect, clad in fashionable black, firmly rooted in the modern world.

But not entirely modern. Elena paused in the living room to admire the view over the town: stars sparkled in the sky above the muted lights of houses and car headlights on the roads. On a glass-and-chrome table below the window, something else sparkled just as brightly.

"What's this?" she asked, picking it up. It looked like a golden ball overlaid with a tracery of diamonds, just the right size to fit comfortably in her palm.

"A treasure," Damon said, smiling. "See if you can find the catch on the side."

Elena felt the sphere with careful fingers, finally finding a cleverly concealed catch and pressing it. The ball unfolded in her hands, revealing a small golden figure. A hummingbird, Elena saw, holding it up to inspect it, the gold chased with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

"Wind the key," Damon said, coming to stand behind her, one cool hand on each of her sides. Elena found the small key low on the back of the bird and turned it. The bird arched its neck and spread its wings, moving slowly and smoothly, as a delicate tune began to play.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Made for a princess," Damon told her, his eyes fixed on the bird. "A dainty little toy, from Russia before the revolution. They had craftsmen there in those days. A fun place to be, too, if you weren't a peasant. Palaces, feasts, and riding through the snow in sleighs piled with furs."

"You were in Russia during the revolution?" Elena asked.

Damon laughed, a dry sharp little sound. "I was there before the revolution, darling. 'Get out before things go bad,' that's always been my motto. I never cared enough to stay and see things through till the end. Before I met you, anyway."

As the music stopped playing, Elena half turned, wanting to see Damon's face. He smiled at her and reached to take her hand, closing the bird back into its sphere. "Keep it," he said. Elena tried to protest - it was surely priceless - but Damon shrugged a little. "I want you to have it," he said. "Besides, I have a lot of treasures. You tend to accumulate things when you live several lifetimes." He ushered her into the dining room, where the table was set for one. "Are you hungry, princess?" he asked. "I had food brought in for you."

He served her an amazing soup - something she didn't recognize that was smooth and velvety on her tongue, with just a hint of spice - followed by a tiny roast bird, which Elena dissected careful y with her fork, its small bones cracking. Damon didn't eat, he never ate, but he sipped a glass of wine and watched Elena, smiling as she told him about her classes, nodding seriously as she told him about the toll that patrolling every night was taking on Meredith.

"This was wonderful," she said at last, still picking at the rich flourless chocolate tart he'd brought out for dessert. "I think it's the best meal I've ever had." Damon smiled. "I want to give you the best of everything," he said. "You should have the world at your feet, you know."

Something in Elena stirred. She put her fork down and rose, walking over to the window to gaze out at the stars again. "You've been everywhere, haven't you, Damon?" she asked. She pressed her palm against the glass.

Damon came up close behind her and pulled her to face him, gently stroking her hair. "Oh, Elena," he said. "I have been everywhere, but the thing about the world is that it keeps changing, so it's always new and exciting. There are so many places I want to show you, to see them through your eyes. There's so much out there, so much life to live." He kissed her neck, his canines pushing gently against the vein on the side of her throat, then put his hands on her hips, turning her back toward the window, where a spread of stars glowed against the night. "Most people never even see a tenth of what the human world holds," he murmured in her ear. "Be extraordinary with me, Elena." His breath was warm on her throat. "Be my dark princess." Elena leaned against him, trembling.

Dear Diary,

I don't know who I am anymore.

Tonight, with Damon, I could almost picture my life if I took what he offered me, became his "dark princess." The two of us, hand in hand, strong and beautiful and free. Everything I wanted without having to lift a finger, from jewels to clothes to wonderful food. A life above the concerns I used to have, somewhere far away. Experiencing and seeing wonders I can't even imagine.

It would have to be a world without Stefan, though. He's shut me out, utterly. But seeing me with Damon - not just kissing, but being who Damon wants me to be - would hurt him, I know.

And I can't stand to do that anymore.

It's like there are two paths in front of me. One goes into the daylight, and it's the ordinary girl I thought I wanted to be: parties and classes and eventually a job and a house and a normal life.

Stefan wants to give me that. The other is in the darkness, with Damon, and I'm just starting to realize how much that world has to offer, and how much I want to experience everything it holds.

I always thought Stefan would be with me on the daylit path. But now I've lost him, and that path seems so lonely. Maybe the dark path really is my future. Maybe Damon is right, and I belong with him, in the night.

"I can't wait to see my surprise." Bonnie giggled as she and Zander crossed the lawn of the science building hand in hand. "You're so romantic. Wait till I tell the guys." Zander brushed a feather-light kiss across her cheek, his lips warm. "They already know I've lost all my cool guy points for you. I sang karaoke with you last night." Bonnie snickered. "Well, after I introduced you to Dirty Dancing, we had to sing the big duet, right? I can't believe you'd never seen that movie before."

"It's because I used to be manly," Zander admitted. "But now I've seen the error of my ways." He gave her one of his slow smiles, and Bonnie's knees nearly buckled. "It was a cute movie."

They reached the bottom of the fire escape, and Zander boosted her up and then climbed after her. When they got to the roof, Zander gestured expansively at the scene before them. "For our six-week anniversary, Bonnie, a re-creation of our first date."

"Oh! That's so sweet!" Bonnie looked around. There was the ragged army blanket, covered with the pizza box and sodas. The stars shone overhead, just as they had six weeks ago. It was sweet; it was a romantic idea even if their first date hadn't been all that amazing. Then she corrected herself: it had actually been a pretty amazing date, even though it had been simple.

She took a seat on the blanket, then peeked into the pizza box and involuntarily grinned. Olive, sausage, and mushroom. Her favorite. "At least one improvement in the re-creation, though, I see."

Zander sat next to her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Of course I know what you like on your pizza now," he said. "Got to pay attention to my girl." Bonnie snuggled up under his arm, and they shared the pizza, gazing at the stars and talking cozily about this and that. When the pizza was all gone, Zander wiped his greasy hands carefully with a napkin, then took both of Bonnie's hands in his. "I need to talk to you," he said seriously, his sky-blue eyes intent on hers.

"Okay," Bonnie said nervously, a flash of panic starting in her stomach. Surely Zander wouldn't have brought her all the way up here and re-created their first date if he was planning to dump her, would he? No, that was a ridiculous idea. But he looked so solemn and worried. "You're not sick, are you?" she asked, horrified by the idea.

The corner of Zander's mouth twitched up into a smile.

"You're so funny, Bonnie," he said. "You just say whatever pops into your head. That's one of the reasons why I love you." Bonnie's heart leaped into her throat, and she felt her cheeks flush. Zander loved her?

Zander got serious again. "I mean it," he said. "I know it's really early, and you don't have to feel like you need to say something back, but I wanted you to know that I'm falling in love with you. You're amazing. I've never felt like this before. Never."

Tears of happy surprise sprang into Bonnie's eyes, and she sniffed, squeezing Zander's hands tightly. "I feel it, too," she said in a tiny voice. "These last few weeks have been amazing. I mean, I don't think I've ever had as much fun as I do with you. We get each other, you know?" They kissed, a long, slow, sweet kiss. Bonnie leaned against Zander and sighed contentedly. She'd never been so comfortable. Then Zander pulled away.

Bonnie reached out for him, but Zander took her hands again and gazed into her eyes. "It's because I'm falling in love with you," he said slowly, "that I have to tell you something. You have the right to know." He squeezed his eyes closed tightly for a moment, then opened them again, looking at Bonnie as if he wanted to climb into her head and find out how she was going to react to what he said next. "I'm a werewolf," he said flatly.

Bonnie sat frozen for a minute, her mind scrambling to understand. Then she shrieked and pulled her hands away from him, jumping to her feet. "Oh no," she gasped. "Oh my God." Images were rushing through her mind: Tyler Small wood's face twisting, grotesquely lengthening into a muzzle, his newly yellow and slit-pupiled eyes glaring at her with vicious, bloodthirsty hatred. Meredith crumpled on her bed like an abandoned doll , blank-eyed as she told them how Samantha's body had been mauled. The flash of white-blond hair Meredith had seen when she chased a dark-clad figure away from a screaming girl. The black bruises on Zander's side.

"Meredith and Elena were right," she said, backing away from him.

"No! No, it's not like that, Bonnie, please," Zander said, scrambling to his feet so that they stood facing each other.

His face was white and strained. "I'm a good werewolf, I swear, I don't ... we don't hurt people."

"Liar!" Bonnie shouted, furious. "I've known werewolves, Zander. To become one, you have to be a killer!" With that, she was off, scrambling down the fire escape to the relative safety of the ground. Don't look back, don't look back, hammered inside her head. Get away, get away.

"Bonnie!" Zander called from the top of the fire escape, and she heard him clattering down after her.

Bonnie jumped the last few feet from the bottom of the fire escape and landed hard, stumbling. She straightened up and started to run immediately. She had to get inside, had to find somewhere she wouldn't be alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement in the shadows of the building. Jared and Tristan and, oh no, big muscular Marcus. Werewolves, she realized, just like Zander, part of his pack. Bonnie thought she was moving as quickly as she could, but, as they came into the light, she found a fresh spurt of speed.

"Bonnie!" Jared called hoarsely, and they came after her.

She was running faster than she ever had, breathless sobs torn from her chest, but it wasn't nearly fast enough.

They were close behind her; she could hear their heavy footsteps catching up to her.

"We just want to talk to you, Bonnie," Tristan called, his voice level and calm. He didn't even sound out of breath.

"Stop," Marcus said. "Wait for us," and oh God, he was coming up beside her now, and Tristan on her other side, cutting her off. They were moving in closer, penning her in.

Bonnie stopped, her hands on her knees, panting for breath. Hot tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin. They had caught her. She had run and run, as fast as she could, but she hadn't been able to get away. The three guys were pacing around her, hemming her in, their faces wary.

They'd pretended to be her friends, but now they looked like hunters, circling her. They'd lied, all of them.

"Monsters," she muttered like a curse, and pulled herself upright, still panting. They had caught her, but they hadn't defeated her yet. She was a witch, wasn't she? She clenched her hands into fists and began to chant under her breath the charms Mrs. Flowers taught her for protection and defense. She didn't think she could beat three werewolves, not without the time to make a magic circle, without any supplies, but maybe she could hurt them.

"Guys, wait. Stop." Zander was coming now, running across the college lawns toward them. Even through the hot tears clouding her vision, Bonnie could see how beautiful he was, how graceful and natural a runner, his long legs eating up the distance, and her heart ached just a little more. She had loved him so much. She went on chanting, feeling the power building up inside her like the pressure in a shaken can of soda, ready to pop.

Zander came to a halt when he reached them, clasping Marcus's shoulder with one hand. The other three looked at him.

"She ran away from us," Tristan said, and he sounded baffled and resentful.

"Yeah," Zander said. "I know." Tears were running down Zander's face, too, Bonnie realized, and he was making no move to wipe them away. He just looked at her, those beautiful blue eyes wide open, heartbreakingly sad. "Back off, guys," he said without looking away from Bonnie. To her, then, he added, "You do what you have to do." Bonnie stopped chanting, letting the built-up power drain away. She took a harsh gasp of air, and then, quick as an arrow, her heart pounding as if it would burst out of her chest, she ran.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Initiation night for the newest members of the Vitale Society had arrived at last. The cavernous room was lit only by golden candlelight from long tapers placed around the space and by the fire of high-flaming torches against the walls. In the flickering light, the animals carved in the wood of the pillars and arches almost seemed to be moving.

Matt, dressed in a dark hooded robe like the other initiates, gazed around proudly. They'd worked hard, and the room looked amazing.

At the front of the room, beneath the highest arch, a long table had been placed, draped in a heavy red satin cloth and looking like some kind of altar. In the center of the table sat a huge deep stone bowl, almost like a baptismal font, and around it roses and orchids were set. More flowers had been scattered on the floor, and the scent of the crushed blossoms underfoot was so strong that it was dizzying. The pledges were lined up, evenly spaced, before the altar.

As if she'd picked up on his pride at how everything had turned out, Chloe pushed her dark hood back a bit and leaned toward him to mutter, "Pretty fabulous, huh?" Matt smiled at her. So what if she was dating someone else? He still liked her. He wanted to stay friends, even if that was all there could be between them.

He tugged at his robe self-consciously; the fabric was heavy, and he didn't like the way it blocked his peripheral vision.

The current masked members of the Vitale Society wove silently among the pledges, handing out goblets full of some kind of liquid. Matt sniffed his and smelled ginger and chamomile as Wellas less familiar scents: so this was where the herbs had been used.

He smiled at the girl who gave it to him, but got no response. Her eyes behind the mask slid over him neutral y, and she moved on. Once he was a full member of the Vitale Society, he would know who these current members were, would see them without their masks. He sipped from his goblet and grimaced: it tasted strange and bitter.

The soft rustlings of cloaked figures moving across the floor were silenced as the last of the goblets was handed out and the masked Vitales quietly retreated under the arch behind the altar to watch. Ethan stepped forward, up to the altar, and pushed back his hood.

"Welcome," he said, holding out his hands to the assembled pledges. "Welcome to true power at last." The candlelight flickered over his face, twisting it into something unfamiliar and almost sinister. Matt twitched nervously and took another swallow of the bitter herbal mixture.

"A toast!" Ethan called. He raised his own goblet, and before him, the pledges raised theirs. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "To moving beyond the veil and discovering the truth."

Matt raised his goblet and drained it with the other pledges. The mixture left a gritty feeling on his tongue, and he scraped it absently against his teeth.

Ethan looked around at the pledges and smiled, locking gazes with one after another. "You've all worked so hard," he said affectionately. "Each of you has reached his or her personal peak of intelligence, strength, and leadership ability now. Together, you are a force to be reckoned with. You have been perfected."

Matt managed to politely restrain himself from rolling his eyes. It was nice to be praised, of course, but sometimes Ethan was a little too over the top: perfected? Matt doubted it was even possible. It seemed to him that you could always strive to be a little more, or a little less, something.

You could always wish to be better. But even if he could, after al , be perfected, he suspected that it would take more than a few obstacle courses and group problem-solving exercises to do it.

"And now it is time to at last discover your purpose," Ethan continued. "Time to complete the final stage in your transformation from ordinary students into true avatars of power." He took a clean and shining silver cup from the altar and dipped it into the deep stone bowl in front of him.

"With every step forward in evolution, there must be some sacrifice. I regret any pain this will cause you. Be comforted by the knowledge that al suffering is temporary. Anna, step forward."

There was a slight uneasy stirring among the pledges.

This talk of suffering and sacrifice was different than Ethan's usual emphasis on honor and power. Matt frowned.

Something was wrong here.

But Anna, looking tiny in her long robe, walked without hesitation up to the altar and pushed back her hood.

"Drink of me," Ethan said, handing her the silver cup.

Anna blinked uncertainly and then, her eyes on Ethan, tipped back her head and drained the cup. As she handed it back to Ethan, she licked her lips automatically, and Matt tried to peer more closely at her. In the flickering candlelight, her lips looked unnatural y red and slick.

Then Ethan led her around the side of the altar and into his arms. He smiled, and his face twisted, his eyes dilating and his lips pulling back in a snarl. His teeth looked so long, so sharp. Matt tried to shout a warning but realized with horror that he couldn't move his lips, couldn't draw the breath to call out.

He knew, suddenly, that he had been a fool.

Ethan sank his fangs deep into Anna's neck. Matt strained, trying to run toward them, to attack Ethan and throw him away from Anna. But he couldn't move at all . He must be under some kind of compulsion. Or perhaps something in the drink, some magic ingredient, had made them al docile and still . He watched helplessly as Anna struggled for a few moments, then went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Unceremoniously, Ethan let her body drop to the ground. "Don't be afraid," he said kindly, gazing around at the horrified, frozen pledges. "All of us" - he gestured toward the silent, masked Vitale behind him - "went through this initiation recently. You must brace yourself to suffer what is only a small , temporary death, and then you will be one of us, a true Vitale. Never growing old, never dying.

Powerful forever."

Sharp white teeth and golden eyes shining in the candlelight, Ethan reached out toward the next pledge as Matt struggled again to shout, to fight. Ethan continued,

"Stuart, step forward."

Elena smelled so good, rich and sweet like an exotic ripe fruit. Damon wanted to simply bury his head in the soft skin at the crook of her neck and just inhale her for a decade or two. Snaking his arm through hers, he pulled her closer.

"You can't come in with me," she told him for the second time. "I might be able to get James to talk to me because it's a question about my parents, but I don't think he'll tell me anything if someone else is there. Whatever the truth is about the Vitale Society and my parents, I think he's embarrassed about it. Or afraid, or ... something." Without paying attention to what she was doing, Elena shifted her grip and held on to Damon's arm more firmly.

"Fine," Damon said stubbornly. "I'll wait outside. I won't let him see me. But you're not to walk across campus at night by yourself. It's not safe."

"Yes, Damon," Elena said in a convincing imitation of meekness, and rested her head on his shoulder. The lemony scent of her shampoo mixed with the more essential Elena smell of her. Damon sighed with contentment.

She cared for him, he knew that, and Stefan had taken himself out of the picture. She was still young, his princess, and a human heart could heal. Maybe, with Stefan gone, she would final y see how much closer she was, mind and soul, to Damon, how perfectly they fit together.

In any case, she was his for now. He lifted his free hand and stroked her head, her silky hair pliant beneath his fingers, and smiled.

The professor's house was barely off campus, just across the street from the gilded entrance gates. They'd almost reached the edge of campus when a familiar presence that had been lurking nearby at last came very close.

Damon wheeled to scan the shadows, pulling Elena with him.

"What is it?" Elena said, alarmed.

Come out, Damon thought with exasperation, sending his silent message toward the thickest shadows at the base of a crowd of oak trees. You know you can't hide from me.

One dark shadow detached itself from the rest, stepping forward on the path. Stefan simply gazed at the ground, shoulders slumped, his hands loose and open by his sides. Elena gasped, a small hurt sound.

Stefan looked terrible, Damon thought, not without sympathy. His face seemed hollow and strained, his cheekbones more prominent than usual, and Damon would have bet that he wasn't feeding properly. Damon felt a twinge of disquiet. He didn't take pleasure in causing his brother pain. Not anymore.

"Well?" Damon said, raising his eyebrows.

Stefan glanced up at him. I don't want to fight with you, Damon, he said silently.

So don't, Damon shot back at him, and Stefan's mouth twitched in a half smile of acknowledgment.

"Stefan," Elena said suddenly, sounding like the word had been jerked out of her. "Please, Stefan." Stefan stared down at the path under his feet, not meeting her eyes. "I sensed you were nearby, Elena, and I felt your anxiety," he said wearily. "I thought you might have been in trouble. I'm sorry, I was mistaken. I shouldn't have come."

Elena stiffened, and her long dark lashes fell over her eyes, hiding, Damon was almost sure, the beginnings of tears.

A long silence stretched between them. Finally, irritated by the tension, Damon made an effort to ease it. "So," he said casually, "we broke into the campus security office last night."

Stefan looked up with a flicker of interest. "Oh? Did you find anything useful?"

"Crime scene photos, but they weren't very helpful," Damon said, shrugging. "The folders were marked with black Vs, so we're trying to figure out what that means.

Elena's going to talk to her professor about the Vitale Society, see if it could have anything to do with them."

"The... Vitale Society?" Stefan said hesitantly.

Damon waved a hand dismissively. "A secret society from back in the day when Elena's parents were here," he said. "Who knows? It may be nothing."

Drawing a hand across his face, Stefan seemed to be thinking hard. "Oh, no," he muttered. Then, looking at Elena for the first time, he asked, "Where's Matt?"

"Matt?" Elena echoed, startled out of her wistful contemplation of Stefan. "Um, I think he had some kind of meeting tonight. Football stuff, maybe?"

"I have to go," Stefan said tightly, and was immediately gone. With his enhanced abilities, Damon could hear Stefan's light footsteps racing away. But to Elena, he knew, Stefan had been nothing but a silently vanishing blur.

Elena turned to Damon, her face crumpling in what he recognized as a prelude to more tears. "Why would he follow me if he doesn't want to talk to me?" she said, her voice hoarse with sorrow.

Damon gritted his teeth. He was trying hard to be patient, to wait for Elena to give him her heart, but she kept thinking of Stefan. "He told you," he said, keeping his voice even. "He wants to make sure you're safe, but he doesn't want to be with you. But I do." Firmly recapturing her arm with his, he tugged her lightly forward. "Shall we?"

Chapter Thirty-Six

When he opened his door and saw Elena, James's face crumpled, just for a fraction of a second, and he stepped backward, as if he was considering closing the door in her face. Then he seemed to think better of it, and he opened it wider, his face creasing into its familiar smile.

"Why, Elena," he said, "My dear, I hardly expected a visitor at this hour. I'm afraid this isn't the best time." He cleared his throat. "I'd be delighted to see you at school, during office hours. Mondays and Fridays, remember?

Now, if you'll excuse me." And, still smiling gently, he shuffled forward and did try to close the door in her face.

But Elena swung her hand up and stopped him. "Wait," she said. "James, I know you didn't want to talk to me about the pins, but it's important. I need to find out more about the Vitale Society."

His bright black eyes glanced toward her and away, as if embarrassed. "Yes, Well," he said, "the problem is of course that unchaperoned solo visits from a student - any student, you understand, my dear, no reflection on you personally - to a professor's home are, er, frowned upon.

The wicked world we live in, you know," and, with a soft chuckle, he pushed firmly against the door. "There are times and places."

Elena pushed back. "I don't believe for a minute that you're trying to make me go away because my visit is inappropriate," she said flatly. "You can't get rid of me that easily. People are in danger, James.

"I know you and my parents were part of the Vitale Society," Elena continued doggedly. "I need you to tell me whatever it is that you've been hiding about those days. I think the Vitale is tied to the murders and disappearances on campus, and we have to stop it. You're my only lead at this point, James." He hesitated, his eyes watering with emotion, and Elena fixed him with her gaze. "More people are going to die," she said harshly, "but you might be able to save them. Will you?"

James visibly wavered and then seemed to give in all at once, his shoulders dropping. "I don't know if anything I can tell you will help. I don't know anything about the murders.

But you'd better come in," he said, and led the way down the hall and through his house. The kitchen was shining clean, with spotless white surfaces. Copper pots, woven baskets, and cheery red dishcloths and towels hung from hooks and were arranged on top of cupboards. Framed prints of fruits and vegetables hung on the walls at intervals.

James sat her down at the table, then busied himself with making her a cup of tea.

Elena waited patiently until he finally settled across from her, with cups of tea in front of them both. "Milk?" he asked fussily, handing her the jug, without meeting her eyes.

"Sugar?"

"Thank you," Elena said. Then she leaned across the table and placed her hand on his, keeping it there until he raised his eyes to look at her. "Tell me," she said simply.

"I don't know anything about the murders," James said again. "Believe me, I wouldn't have kept this secret if I thought anyone was in danger from it." Elena nodded. "I know you wouldn't," she said. "Even if there isn't a connection, if the secret is about my parents, I deserve to know," she told him.

James sighed, a long breathy sound. "This was all a long time ago, you understand," he said. "We were young and a bit naive. The Vitale Society was a force for good, back then. We worshipped natural spirits and drew our energy from the sacred Earth. We were a positive force in the community, interested principally in love and peace and creativity. We served others. I hear that the Vitale Society has changed since those days, that darker elements have taken it over. But I don't know much about them now. I haven't been involved with the Vitale for years, not since the events I am about to recount to you."

Elena sipped her tea and waited. James's eyes flew to her face, almost shyly, then fixed back on the table. "One day," he said slowly, "a strange man came to one of our secret meetings. He was - " James closed his eyes and shivered. "I had never seen a being of such pure power, or one who radiated such a feeling of peace and love. We, all of us, had no doubt that we were in the presence of an angel. He called himself a Guardian." Involuntarily, Elena sucked a breath through her teeth, hissing. James's eyes snapped open, and he gave her a long look. "You know them?" At her nod, he shrugged a little. "Well, you can imagine how he affected us."

"What did the Guardian want?" Elena asked, her stomach dropping. She had met Guardians, and she hadn't liked them. It was Guardians who had, coldly and efficiently, refused to bring Damon back to life when he had died in the Dark Dimension. And it was Guardians who had caused the car accident that killed her parents in an attempt to kill Elena so that they could recruit her to their ranks. All the Guardians she'd met were female, though; she hadn't even known there were male Guardians as Well.

Elena knew that, lovely as the Guardians appeared to be, they were not angels, were not on the side of Good or, for that matter, the side of Evil. They just believed in Order.

They could be very dangerous.

James looked at her briefly, then fiddled with the tea cup and napkin in front of him. "Would you like a scone?" he asked. She shook her head and stared at him, and he sighed again. "You have to understand that your parents were very young. Idealistic."

Elena had the sinking feeling that she was going to find out something deeply unpleasant. "Go on," she said.

Instead of continuing, though, James folded his napkin into tiny, precise squares, smaller and smaller, until Elena cleared her throat. Then he began again. "The Guardian told us that there was a need for a new kind of Guardian.

One who would be a mortal, on Earth, and who would possess special powers that she would need to maintain the balance between good and evil supernatural forces on Earth. Over the course of his visit, Elizabeth and Thomas, who were young and brilliant and good and deeply in love, and who had bright futures ahead of them, were chosen to be the parents of this mortal Guardian." He let the napkin unfold itself in his hands and looked at Elena meaningfully. It took her a moment to catch on.

"Me? Are you kidding? I'm not - " She shut her mouth. "I have enough problems," she said flatly. She paused as something he said sank in. "Wait, why do you think my parents were being naive?" she asked sharply. "What did they do?"

James drank a swallow of tea. "Frankly, I think I need a little something in this before I continue," he said. "I've kept this secret for a long time, and I still have to tell you the worst part." He got up and rummaged around in one of the cupboards, eventually pulling out a small bottle full of amber liquid. He held it out to Elena questioningly, but she shook her head. She was pretty certain she would need her head clear for the rest of this conversation. He poured a generous amount into his own cup.

"So," he said, sitting down again. Elena could tell that he was still anxious, but also that he was beginning to enjoy telling the story. He was a natural gossip - the way he taught history was as gossip about the past - and this was even more familiar for him, because it was gossip about Elena's parents, people they both had known. "Thomas and Elizabeth were both terrifically flattered, of course."

"And..." Elena prompted.

James laced his fingers across his stomach and watched her, his eyes shadowed. "They agreed that, when the child was twelve years old, they would give her up. The Guardians would take her away, and they would never see her again."

Elena was suddenly very cold. Her parents had raised her intending to give her away? She felt like all her childhood memories were shattering. In an instant, James was at her side. "Breathe," he said gently.

Gasping, Elena shut her eyes and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. That her parents, her beloved parents, had taken her on as some kind of temporary project, was devastating. She had never doubted their love until now.

She had to know the whole truth.

"Go on."

"Honestly, that was the end of my friendship with your parents, and the end of my involvement with the Vitale Society," James said, taking another long drink of his whiskey-laced tea. "I couldn't believe that no one else in the Society saw the problem with raising a child to the cusp of adolescence and then giving her up forever, and I couldn't believe that your parents - who I knew to be loving, intelligent people - would agree to such a plan. We graduated and went our separate ways, and I didn't hear from your parents again for more than twelve years."

"You heard from them then?" Elena asked quietly.

"Your father called me. The Guardians had contacted them, ready to take you away. But Thomas and Elizabeth wouldn't let you go." James smiled sadly. "They loved you too much. They didn't think you were ready to leave home -

you were only a child. They realized that they had agreed too quickly to the Guardians' plan, that they didn't really know what was in store for you, and that they couldn't let their daughter go without knowing for certain that it was the best thing for her. So Thomas asked for my help protecting you. They knew I had dabbled in sorcery when I was in college" - he waved his hand modestly when Elena looked up at him - "only small magics, and I had mostly given them up by then. But he and Elizabeth were desperate. So I gathered what knowledge I could, intending to help them." He paused, and a gloom settled over his face.

"Unfortunately, I was too late. A few days after our conversation, before I even set out for Fell's Church, your parents were both killed in a car accident. I checked up on you over the years, but it didn't seem like the Guardians had gotten their hands on you. And now, here you are. I don't think it's a coincidence."

"The Guardians killed my parents," Elena said dully. "I knew it, but I didn't know... I thought it was an accident." She was struggling to wrap her mind around the secrets of her childhood. At least in the end her parents hadn't been able to give her away. They had loved her, as she had thought.

"They tend to get what they want," James said.

"Why didn't they take me then?" Elena asked.

James shook his head. "I don't know. But I think there's a reason you're at Dalcrest now, where it began for you and for your parents. I think that some kind of task will arise here, and you'll come into your Powers."

"A task?" Elena asked. "But I had Powers once, and the Guardians took them away." They had mercilessly stripped her of her Wings and al her abilities. Were they going to return them when the time was right?

James sighed and shrugged helplessly. "Plans sometimes have curious ways of presenting themselves, even those that are fated from the start," he said. "Maybe these disappearances are the first sign of it. I don't know, though. As I told the class, Dalcrest is the hub of a lot of paranormal activity. I tend to think that, when your task presents itself, you'll know."

"But I'm not..." Elena gulped. "I don't understand what this all means. I just want to be a normal girl. I thought I could now. Here."

James reached across the table and patted her hand, his eyes deep Wells of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, my dear," he said. "I didn't want to be the one to burden you with this. But I will give you any help I can. Thomas and Elizabeth would have wanted that."

Elena felt like she couldn't breathe. She had to get out of this cozy kitchen, away from James's avid, concerned eyes. "Thank you," she said, hurriedly pushing her chair away from the table and getting up. "I have to go now, though. I do appreciate your telling me all this, but I need to think."

He fussed around her all the way to the front door, clearly unsure of whether to let her go, and Elena was almost ready to scream by the time she reached the porch.

"Thank you," she said again. "Good-bye." She walked quickly away without looking back, her shoes clacking against the cement of the sidewalk. When she was out of sight of James's house, Damon slipped from the shadows to join her. Elena held her head high, blinking away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. For now, this secret would be hers.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ethan had Chloe, was holding her tightly in his arms like a parody of a lover's embrace. Matt moaned deep in his throat and strained toward her, but he couldn't move, couldn't even open his mouth to shout. Chloe's large brown eyes were fixed on his, and they were filled with terror. As Ethan bent his head to her neck, Matt held her gaze and tried to send Chloe a comforting message with his eyes.

It's okay, Chloe, he thought. Please, it won't hurt for long. Be strong. Chloe whimpered, frozen, her eyes on Matt's as if his steady gaze was the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces.

Keeping his eyes on hers and his breathing slow, Matt tried to emanate calmness, tried to soothe Chloe, as his mind worked frantically. Including Ethan, there were fifteen Vitales. All of them vampires. The other Vitales were watching quietly from behind the altar, letting Ethan take the lead and sire the pledges.

The bodies of four of the pledges lay at Ethan's feet now. They'd be out of the picture for several hours at least, their bodies going through the transition that would take them from corpses to vampires. Including Matt and Chloe, there were six pledges left. The longer Matt waited to fight back, the worse the odds would get.

But what could Matt do? If only he could break this involuntary still ness, if only he weren't a helpless prisoner.

He tried again to move, this time focusing al his strength on lifting his right arm. His muscles tensed with effort, but after about thirty seconds of trying, he stopped in disgust. He was exhausting himself, and he wasn't moving an inch.

Whatever held him was strong.

But if he could figure out a way to get free, then he'd be able to grab a torch from the wall , maybe. Beneath his robe, his pocket knife weighed heavily in his pants pocket.

Vampires burned. Cutting off their heads would kill them. If he could just hold the vampires off long enough to pull Chloe and whichever other pledges he could grab out of the room, then he could come back later with reinforcements and fight them with a chance at winning.

But if he couldn't break this spell or compulsion that was holding him in place, any plan he came up with would be useless.

Ethan raised his head from Chloe's neck, his long sharp teeth pulling out of her throat, and licked gently at the red blood trickling from the wound in her neck. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, "but it's only for a moment. And then we'll live forever." Chloe's eyes glazed over and fluttered shut, but she was still breathing, still alive. There was still a chance for her.

At Ethan's feet, Anna stirred and moaned. As Matt watched in horror, her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at Ethan, her expression confused but adoring.

No! Matt thought. It's too soon!

As if he had caught the thought, Ethan turned to Matt and winked. "The herbs in the mixture you all drank worked to thin your blood and speed up your metabolism," he said, his voice as casual and friendly as if they were chatting in the cafeteria. "I wasn't sure if it would work, but it looks like it does. Makes the transition go a lot faster." His smile widened. "I'm a biochem major, you know." Ethan's mouth was smeared with blood, and Matt shuddered but couldn't look away from the golden eyes that held his.

It's possible, Matt thought for the first time, that I might not survive this. His stomach rolled with nausea. He really didn't want to become a vampire.

If the newly transformed pledges were waking up so soon, the already slim odds would quickly become impossible. New vampires, he remembered from Elena's transformation back in the winter, awoke vicious, unreasoning, hungry, and fanatically committed to the vampire who had changed them.

Ethan lowered his head to bite at Chloe's neck again, as Anna climbed to her feet with a fluid, inhuman grace. On the other side of the altar, Stuart was now beginning to stir, one long leg shifting restlessly against the dark wood of the floor.

His throat burning with unvoiced sobs of frustration, Matt felt his last flame of hope begin to flicker and die. There was no escape.

Suddenly, the door at the far end of the chamber burst inward, and Stefan swept in.

Ethan looked up in surprise, but before he or the other vampires could move, Stefan flew across the chamber and ripped Chloe from Ethan's arms. She fell flat in front of the altar, blood running down her neck. Matt couldn't tell if she was still breathing, still clinging to life as a human, or not.

Stefan grabbed Ethan by his long robe and slammed him against the wall . He shook the curly-haired vampire as easily as a dog might shake a rat.

For a moment, the terrible fear that held Matt in its grip loosened. Stefan knew what was happening, Stefan had found him. Stefan would save them all .

The other Vitales were racing toward Stefan now as he struggled with Ethan, their long robes flowing behind them as they smoothly came forward, moving as one.

Stefan was without a doubt much stronger than any of them. He flung a black-clad female vampire - the one who had handed him the goblet, Matt thought - away from him easily, and she sailed across the chamber as if she was no heavier than a rag doll , landing in a crumpled heap against the opposite wall . Smiling viciously, Stefan tore at the throat of another with his teeth, and she fell to the ground and lay still .

But there were so many of them, and only one of Stefan.

After just a few minutes of watching the fight, Matt could see that it was hopeless, and his heart sank. Stefan was much older, and much stronger, than any other vampire in the room, but together they outweighed him. The tide of the battle was turning, and they were overwhelming him through the sheer strength of their numbers. Ethan was free of him now, straightening his robes, and four of the Vitale vampires, working together, pinned Stefan's arms behind him. Anna, her eyes shining, snapped at him viciously.

Ethan grabbed a torch from the wall behind him and eyed Stefan speculatively, absently licking at the blood on the back of his hand. "You had your chance, Stefan," he said, smiling.

Stefan stopped struggling and hung limp between the vampires holding his arms. "Wait," he said, looking up at Ethan. "You wanted me to join you. You begged me to join you. Do you still want me?"

Ethan tilted his head thoughtfully, his golden eyes bright.

"I do," he said. "But what can you tell me that'll make me believe you want to join us?"

Stefan licked his lips. "Let Matt go. If you let him leave safely, I'll stay in his place." He paused. "On my honor."

"Done," Ethan said immediately. He flicked his fingers in the air without taking his eyes from Stefan, and Matt staggered, suddenly released from the compulsion that had held him in place.

Matt sucked in one long breath and then ran straight for the altar and Chloe. Maybe it wasn't too late. He could still save her.

"Stop." Ethan's voice cracked commandingly across the room. Matt froze in place, once again unable to move.

Ethan glared at him. "You do not help. You do not fight," he said coldly. "You go."

Matt looked imploringly at Stefan. Surely he wasn't just supposed to leave, to abandon Chloe and Stefan and the others to the Vitale vampires. Stefan gazed back at him, his features rigid. "Sorry, Matt," he said flatly. "The one thing I've learned over the years is that sometimes you have to surrender. The best thing you can do now is just leave. I'll be okay."

And then, jarringly intrusive and sudden in Matt's head was Stefan's voice. Damon, he said fiercely. Get Damon.

Matt gulped and, as Ethan's compulsion released him once more, nodded slowly, trying to look defeated while still signaling to Stefan with his eyes that his message had been received.

He couldn't look at the other pledges. No matter how much he hurried, some or all of them would die before he returned. Maybe Stefan would be able to save some of them. Maybe. Maybe he would be able to save Chloe.

His heart pounding with terror, his head spinning with fear, Matt ran for the exit and for help. He didn't look back.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Bonnie didn't have her keys. She knew exactly where they were, but that didn't do her much good: they were lying on the bedside table next to Zander's neat plain single bed.

She cursed and kicked at the door, tears running down her face. How was she going to get any of her stuff back?

Some guy opened the front door of the building for her.

"Jeez, relax," he said, but Bonnie had already pushed past him and was running up the stairs to her room.

Please let them be here, she thought, clinging to the banister, please. She had no doubt that Elena and Meredith would comfort her, would help her, no matter what she had said to them during their fight. They would help Bonnie figure out what to do.

But they might be out. And she'd have no idea where to find Meredith and Elena, no idea where they spent their free time these days.

How had she grown so far apart from her best friends?

Bonnie wondered, wiping her hands across her cheeks, smearing away her tears and snot. Why had she treated them so badly? They were just trying to protect her. And they were right about Zander; they were so right. She snuffled miserably.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Bonnie banged on their room door with her fist, hearing quick movement inside. They were home. Thank God.

"Bonnie?" Meredith said, startled, when she opened the door, and then, "Oh, Bonnie," as Bonnie threw herself, sobbing, into Meredith's arms. Meredith hugged her, tight and fierce, and, for the first time since she had jumped away from Zander and run for the fire escape, Bonnie felt safe.

"What's the matter, Bonnie? What happened?" Elena was behind Meredith, peering at her anxiously, and part of Bonnie noticed that Elena's own white and startled face was marked with tears. She was interrupting something, but Bonnie couldn't focus on that now.

Past Elena, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair stood out around her face in a wild red cloud, her eyes were glassy, and her pale face was smeared with dirt and tears. I look, Bonnie thought with a semihysterical silent laugh, like I was chased by werewolves.

"Werewolves," she wailed as Meredith pulled her into the room. "They're all werewolves."

"What are you - " Meredith broke off. "Bonnie, do you mean Zander and his friends? They're werewolves?" Bonnie nodded furiously, burying her face against Meredith's shoulder. Meredith pushed her back and looked carefully into her eyes. "Are you sure, Bonnie?" she asked gently. She looked to Elena, and they both turned and glanced out the window at the sky. "Did you see them change? It's not the full moon yet."

"No," Bonnie said. She tried to catch her breath, taking harsh sobbing gulps of air. "Zander told me. And then - oh, Meredith, it was so scary - I ran, and they chased me." She explained what happened, on the roof and on the lawns of the college.

Meredith and Elena looked at each other quizzically, then back at Bonnie. "Why did he tell you?" Elena asked.

"He couldn't have thought you would have a good reaction to the news; it would have been easier to keep hiding it." Bonnie shook her head helplessly.

Meredith arched an ironic eyebrow at her. "Even monsters can fall in love," she said. "I thought you knew that, Elena." She glanced at her hunting stave, leaning against the foot of her bed. "When the full moon comes, now I'll know what to look for."

Bonnie stared at her in horror. "You're not going to hunt them, are you?" It was a stupid question, she knew. If Zander and his friends really were behind the murders and disappearances on campus, Meredith had to hunt them. It was her responsibility. All of their responsibilities, really, because if they were the only ones who knew the truth, they were the only ones who could keep everyone else safe.

But Zander, something inside her howled in pain. Not Zander...

"None of the attacks occurred during a full moon," Elena said thoughtfully, and Meredith and Bonnie both blinked at her.

"That's true," Meredith agreed, frowning as she thought back. "I don't know how we didn't realize that before.

Bonnie," she said. "Think carefully before you answer this question. You've been spending a lot of time with Zander and his friends. Did anything about them make you think they might hurt someone, really hurt them, when they're not in wolf form?"

"No!" Bonnie said automatically. Then she stopped and thought and said, more slowly, "No, I don't think so.

Zander's really kind, I don't think he could fake that. Not all the time. They play rough, but I've never seen them fight with anyone except one another. And even with one another, they're not really fighting, just more sort of messing around."

"We know what you mean," Meredith said dryly. "We've seen it."

Elena tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "The disappearances weren't during the full moon, either," she said thoughtfully. "Although I guess they could have been taking people and holding them prisoner, planning to kill them when they were in wolf form later, but that doesn't - I mean, I don't have much werewolf experience besides Tyler, but - it doesn't sound very wolfy to me. Too sterile, sort of."

"But..." Bonnie sank down on her bed. "You think there's a chance Zander and his friends might not be the killers?

Then who are the killers?" She felt bewildered.

Meredith and Elena exchanged a grim glance. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff that happens on this campus," Elena said. "We'll fill you in." Bonnie rubbed her face with her hands. "Zander told me he was a good werewolf," she said. "That he didn't hurt people. Is that possible? Is there even such a thing as a good werewolf?"

Meredith and Elena sat down next to her, one on each side, and wrapped their arms around her. "Maybe?" Elena said. "I real y hope so, Bonnie. For your sake." Bonnie sighed and cuddled closer to them, resting her head on Meredith's shoulder. "I need to think about all this," she said. "At least I'm not alone. I'm so glad I have you guys. I'm sorry we fought."

Elena and Meredith both hugged her more tightly.

"You've always got us," Elena promised.

A wild hammering came at the door.

Elena glanced at Bonnie, who tensed visibly on her bed but kept her hands over her face, and then at Meredith, who nodded firmly to her and climbed to her feet, reaching for her stave. It had occurred to both of them that, if Zander wanted to talk to Bonnie, he knew exactly where she lived.

Elena flung open the door, and Matt tumbled in. He was wearing a long black hooded robe, and his eyes were frantic as he gasped for breath.

"Matt?" she said in surprise, and looked to Meredith, who gave a tiny shrug and put her stave back down.

"What's the matter? And what are you wearing?" He grabbed Elena by the shoulders, holding her too tightly. "Stefan's in danger," he said, and she froze. "The Vitale Society - they're vampires. Stefan saved me, but he can't fight them all ." He quickly explained what happened in the secret chamber below the library, how Stefan came to his rescue, then sent him to get help. "We don't have much time," he finished. "They're killing - they're changing all the pledges into vampires. I don't even know what Ethan's got planned for Stefan. We have to go back. And we need Damon."

Meredith picked up her stave again and, grim faced, was taking her satchel of weapons from her closet. Bonnie was on her feet, too, fists clenched, jaw firm.

"I'll call Damon," Elena said, picking up her phone.

Damon had dropped her off at the dorm after walking her back from James's house, but he was probably still nearby.

Stefan in danger. If he ... if anything happened to him, if something happened while they were apart, while he was still hurt and it was her fault, Elena would never forgive herself. She wouldn't deserve to be forgiven.

Guilt was like a knife in her stomach. How could she have hurt Stefan like that? She was attracted to Damon, sure, even loved him, but she'd never had any question that Stefan was her true love. And she had broken his heart.

She'd do anything to save Stefan. She'd die for him if she had to. And, as she listened to the ringing on the other end of the line and waited for Damon to pick up, she realized that there was no question in her mind that Damon would do anything to save Stefan, too.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Stefan hadn't had a plan when he agreed to stay in Matt's place. He just knew he had to save Matt, and now he hoped Damon would come for him. Stefan's wrists ached with a dull , throbbing insistent pain that was almost impossible for him to ignore. He tried once more to pull against the ropes that were holding him to the chair, turning his hands from left to right as far as he could to try and loosen his restraints, but it was hopeless. He couldn't shift them.

He looked around dazedly. The room looked both serene and mysterious again now, as it had when he first kicked in the door. A good place for a secret society.

Torches burned brightly, flowers were arranged around the makeshift altar. The Vitales had taken the time to clean up after binding him and killing the pledges.

The ropes were crossed over his chest and stomach and wound around his back; his ankles and knees were tied to the chair legs, his elbows and wrists to the arms of the chair. He was Welltrussed, but it was the ones around his wrists that hurt most, because they lay against his bare skin. And they burned.

"They're soaked in vervain so that you'll be too weak to break free, but I'm afraid it must sting a bit," Ethan said pleasantly, as if he was explaining an interesting element of the secret chamber's architecture to his guest. "See, I may be new at this, but I know all the tricks." Stefan rested his head against the back of the chair and looked at Ethan with fervent dislike. "Not all of the tricks, I suspect."

Ethan was cocky, but Stefan was pretty sure he hadn't been a vampire for very long. If Ethan was still human, if he had never become a vampire, Stefan guessed he would look more or less the same as he did now.

Ethan crouched down in front of Stefan's chair to look up into his face, wearing the same warm, friendly smile as when he'd tried to convince Stefan to join them. He looked like a pleasant fellow, someone you wanted to relax with and trust, and Stefan glared at him. The smile was a lie.

Ethan was a killer whose mask was less obvious than those of the other Vitale vampires, that was all .

"You're probably right about that," Ethan said thoughtful y. "I imagine there are all kinds of tricks you've picked up in, what is it, more than five hundred years?

Tricks that I don't know yet. You could be very useful to me in that way, if you decide to join us after all . There are lots of things you can teach us about all this vampire stuff." He flashed that appealing smile again. "I've always been a good student."

Vampire stuff. "What do you want from me, Ethan?" Stefan asked wearily. It had been a long night, a long few weeks, and the vervain-soaked ropes were hurting his arms, muddying his thoughts.

Ethan knew how old he was. Ethan knew what to offer him when they first talked about the Vitale Society. It wasn't a coincidence that he was the one in this room, then; Ethan wasn't looking for just any vampire. "What's your plan here?" Stefan asked.

Ethan's smile grew wider. "I'm building an invincible vampire army, of course," he said cheerful y. "I know it sounds a little ridiculous, but it's all about power. And power's never ridiculous." He licked his lips nervously, showing a flash of thin pink tongue. "See, I used to just be one of the ordinary little people. I was just like everyone else on campus. My biggest achievements were good grades on exams or the fact that I had the leadership of some secret college club. You wouldn't believe how lame the Vitale Society used to be. Just white magic and nature worship." He made a little self-deprecating grimace: See how silly I was once. I'm telling you something embarrassing about myself, so trust me. "But then I figured out how to get some real power."

One of the black-clad figures came up behind Ethan, and Ethan held up a finger to Stefan. "Hang on a sec, okay?" He rose and turned to talk to his lieutenant.

After tying Stefan up, Ethan had efficiently gone back to draining the pledges, one after another, dropping the bodies as soon as he finished with them. They had all gone through their transitions now and were back on their feet.

They seemed irritable and disoriented, growling and snapping at one another and gazing at Ethan with undisguised adoration.

Typical new vampires. Stefan eyed them warily. Until they had fed thoroughly, they would hover on the brink of madness, and it would be easy for Ethan to lose control of them. Then they would be even more dangerous.

"The pledges need to eat," Ethan said calmly to the robed woman behind him. "Five of you should take them out and teach them how to hunt. You lead the hunting party and pick whoever you want to go with you. The rest will stay here and help guard our guest."

Stefan watched as the Vitales sorted themselves out.

Eight of Ethan's fol owers remained, stationing themselves by the sides of the room. Stefan had managed to kill one other during the fight, ripping her throat out, but the body had been tidied away somewhere.

Stefan gave a little involuntary moan. It was hard to think straight - he was so tired, and the vervain was starting to hurt him all over, not just on his aching wrists, but anywhere the ropes touched him through his clothes. Damon, please come quickly. Please, Damon, he thought.

"You're going to unleash nine newly made vampires on the campus?" he asked Ethan, his mind snapping back to the matter at hand. "Ethan, they'll kill people. People who were your friends, maybe. You'll draw attention to yourselves. There are already police all over campus.

Please, take them to the woods to hunt animals. They can live on animal blood." He heard a pleading note enter his own voice as Ethan only smiled absently at him, as if he was a child begging to go to Disneyland. "Come on, Ethan, it hasn't been very long since you were a human, too. You can't want to stand by and have innocent students murdered."

Ethan shrugged, patting Stefan lightly on the shoulder as he started to walk over to confer with another of his henchmen. "They need to be strong, Stefan. I want them at their peak by the next equinox. And we've killed plenty of innocent students already," he said over his shoulder.

"Equinox? Ethan," Stefan shouted after him in frustration. He looked frantically at the door by which the pledges and their escort had left. It would take them a while to select victims. Not as many students were walking the campus alone at night these days. If he could get free, if Damon came now and freed him, they could still stop the slaughter. If all these brand-new vampires were allowed loose on campus, there would be a massacre.

Ethan couldn't have changed the rest of the Vitale Society all at once, he realized. The number of murders they would have committed newly made as a group would have been impossible to disguise as a few disappearances. This must have been the first mass initiation. And who had made Ethan? he wondered. Was there an older vampire somewhere on campus?

Damon, where are you? He had no doubt that Damon would come if he could.

Despite their rift over Elena, things had changed enough between him and Damon that he knew he could rely on his brother to rescue him. He had saved him before, after all , when they fought Katherine, when they fought Klaus. There was something rock solid between them now, something that wasn't there a year ago, or in the hundreds of years before that. He closed his eyes and heard himself give a dry, painful chuckle. It seemed like an inopportune moment to start having revelations about his own family issues.

"So," Ethan said chattily, returning to his side and pulling up a chair, "we were talking about the equinox."

"Yes," Stefan said, an acid bite to his tone.

He wasn't going to let Ethan see how he was yearning toward the door, expectant. He needed to keep his cool, so that Damon could have the element of surprise on his side.

He should keep Ethan talking, keep him distracted in case Damon came, so he fixed an expression of interest on his face and looked at Ethan attentively.

"At the time of the equinox, when day and night are perfectly balanced, the line between life and death is at its most weak and permeable. This is the time when spirits can cross between the worlds," Ethan began dramatically, moving one hand in a wide sweep.

Stefan sighed. "I know that, Ethan," he said impatiently.

"Just cut to the chase." He might have to keep Ethan distracted, but surely he didn't have to feed his ego.

Ethan dropped his hand. "You remember Klaus, don't you?" he asked. "The originator of your bloodline? We're resurrecting him. With him at the head of our ranks, we'll be invincible."

Everything went still for a moment, as if Stefan's slow-beating heart had final y stopped. Then he sucked in a breath. He felt as if Ethan had punched him in the face. He couldn't speak for a moment. When he could, he gasped,

"Klaus? Klaus the vampire who..." He couldn't even finish the sentence. His mind was full of Klaus: the Old One, the Original vampire, the mad man. The vampire who had controlled lightning, who had bragged that he had not been made, that he just was. In Klaus's earliest memories, he had told Stefan, he carried a bronze axe; he was a barbarian at the gate, among those who destroyed the Roman Empire. He claimed that he began the race of vampires.

Klaus had held Elena's spirit hostage and tortured innocent Vickie Bennett to death for fun. He turned Katherine, first into a vampire, then into a cruel doll instead of a person, changed her until she was vicious and mindless, eager only to torment those she once loved.

Stefan, Damon, and Elena killed him at last, but it was nearly impossible, would have been impossible without the spirits of a battalion of unquiet ghosts from the Civil War tied to the blood-soaked battlegrounds of Fell's Church.

"Klaus who made the vampire who made you," Ethan said cheerfully. "It was another of his descendants who I found in Europe this summer on my trip abroad. I convinced her to turn me into a vampire. She taught me some tricks, too, like how to use vervain, and how lapis lazuli can protect us from the sun. I put lapis lazuli in the pins we wear now, so all the members have it on them at all times. She was very helpful, this vampire who changed me. And she told me all about Klaus." He smiled warmly at Stefan again. "See, you should like me, Stefan. We're practically cousins." Stefan shut his eyes for a moment. "Klaus was insane," he tried to explain. "He won't work with you, he'll destroy you."

Ethan sighed. "I really think I can work it out with him, though," he said. "I'm very persuasive. And I'm offering him soldiers. I hear he likes war. There's no reason for him to turn us down; we want to give him everything he wants." He paused and looked at Stefan, still smiling, but there was a note now in that wide smile that Stefan didn't like, a false innocence. Whatever Ethan was going to ask Stefan now, he already knew the answer. "Does this mean you're not interested in joining our army, cousin?" he asked with mock surprise.

Gritting his teeth, Stefan strained against the ropes once more, but they didn't budge. He glared up at Ethan. "I won't help you," he said. "Never."

Ethan came closer, bent down until his face was level with Stefan's. "But you will help," he said lightly, a trace of self-satisfaction in his eyes. "Whether you want to or not.

See, what I need most of all to bring back Klaus is blood." He ran his hands through his curls, shaking his head. "It's always blood for this kind of thing, have you noticed?" he added.

"Blood?" asked Stefan uneasily. Young vampires were never sane, in his opinion - the initial rush of new senses and Powers were enough to bewilder anyone. He was starting to think, though, that Ethan's grasp on sanity might not have been that strong to begin with. He'd convinced someone to turn him into a vampire?

"The blood of his descendants, specifically." Ethan nodded smugly. "That's why I was so delighted to find that you were right here on campus. I made a hobby of tracking down the descendants of Klaus this summer, after I'd talked the first one I met into changing me into what she was.

Some of them gave me blood willingly, when they heard what I wanted to do. Not all of Klaus's descendants are as ungrateful as you. I only need a little more, and then I'll have enough. Yours, of course," and his eyes flicked up toward the door that Stefan had been surreptitiously watching all this time, waiting for Damon, "and your brother's. I assume he'll be here any minute?"

Stefan's heart plummeted, and he stared openly at the door. Damon, please stay away, he thought desperately.