The Vampire Diaries #13: Unmasked (The Salvation #3)

Author: L.J. Smith

Category: Fantasy , Young Adult

Series: The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation

Unmasked (The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation #3)

Unmasked is the third and final book in The Salvation trilogy and the thirteenth book in The Vampire Diaries novel series overall.

This book ended the initial novel series.

Summary

Love is the most powerful force of all…

Elena Gilbert is dying. When Damon Salvatore avenged his brother Stefan’s death, he broke the sacred deal he’d made with the Guardians—and put Elena’s life at risk.

She should be dead, but instead, the Guardians are offering Elena a once-in-a-lifetime chance: to start over. Ever since she met the Salvatore brothers, Elena’s love for them both has caused endless death and destruction. But if Elena can return to the beginning—her senior year of high school, when she first met Damon and Stefan—and prove that she can exist alongside them without either of them killing a human, then Elena can live.

But the Damon of years ago is unpredictable, rash, and dangerous. The only way for Elena to save everyone—including herself—might be to give up the Salvatores forever. Will Elena be able to sacrifice her own desires for the greater good? Or is her path to tragic love already written in the stars?


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Chapter 1

“I’m going to plant the herb garden right there,” Bonnie told Zander, gazing out across their new yard. Green grass spread out in front of her, running right to the edge of a winding country road. There was a little space, half in sun and half in shade, that would be perfect for growing herbs for her spells and charms. Beyond the road rose white-topped mountains—real mountains, much higher than the rolling hills of Virginia.

Behind her, Zander wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his chin against her shoulder. Bonnie leaned back comfortably against his warm bulk. Taking a deep, satisfied breath of the crisp Colorado air, she told him, “It’s absolutely gorgeous here.”

They’d only been here for a few days, and each morning when Bonnie opened her eyes, she was startled by her own happiness. She’d moved here because she couldn’t bear to lose Zander, but she had never considered that she might actually like it.

Even on the plane flying here, she’d had an anxious pit in her stomach. Bonnie had never lived so far away from her family before, never spent more than a few months some place where she couldn’t drive to her mom or one of her sisters if she needed them. And she’d always had her other sisters, the ones she’d chosen, Elena and Meredith, by her side.

Bonnie had felt like a traitor leaving Elena and Meredith. They’d assured her that they understood and reminded her she was only a phone call away. But that didn’t relieve Bonnie’s guilt. Stefan, Elena’s true love, had died. Meredith had been turned into a vampire. Surely it was wrong for Bonnie to abandon them, especially now.

But being here felt right. The Colorado sky stretched bright and blue overhead, so clear and deep that Bonnie almost thought she could hold her arms above her head and fly straight up into its limitless space.

There was something about that endless sky, something about the open country and nature all around her that made Bonnie feel like she was bursting with Power.

“I’m getting stronger every day,” she said, twining her fingers with Zander’s and pulling his arms tighter around her.

“Mmhmm,” Zander agreed, kissing her neck softly. “This place is really alive. Jared told me he ran for miles last night in the mountains as a wolf, and there was nothing to avoid, no cars or towns in his way. Pretty cool.”

He tugged her around by the hand, and Bonnie followed him into the house. Our house. How awesome is that? she thought. She’d liked their old apartments, she guessed, but this little white ranch house had no neighbors to complain about noise, no landlord laying down rules. It was theirs.

“We can do anything we want here,” she told Zander.

He grinned down at her with his slow, devastating smile. “And what is it that you want to do, Miss Bonnie?”

Bonnie’s face widened in a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas,” she said lightly, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, her eyes fluttering closed.

The same familiar zing that Zander’s kisses always gave her was there, but with something extra: They were married now. Till death do us part. He was hers.

She opened her eyes and looked up into Zander’s warm, ocean-blue ones. A thrill of happiness shot through her. Channeling a shred of Zander’s energy into herself, Bonnie concentrated for a moment. Joy shot through her as she felt the essence of her sweet, cheerful husband. In the fireplace, violet and green sparks flew, filling the space with light and color.

“Beautiful,” Zander said. “Like tiny fireworks.”

Bonnie was about to say something cheesy but honest, something like, That’s how I feel with you all the time—fireworks. But before she could, her phone rang.

Meredith. Her friend no doubt wanted to know how the honeymoon had been and what Colorado was like. Bonnie answered, still smiling, “Hey! What’s up?”

There was a pause. Then, Meredith’s voice, thin and ragged. “Bonnie?”

“Meredith?” Bonnie stiffened. Her friend sounded broken.

“It’s Elena,” Meredith said, almost too quietly for Bonnie to hear. “Can you come home?”

Sitting on the edge of Elena’s bed, Damon closed his eyes, just for a moment. He was so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion worse than any he could remember feeling before. He’d sat by Elena’s bedside for hours, her hand in his, silently willing her to keep breathing, and her heart to keep pounding.

Willing Elena to wake up.

And she’d kept breathing, somehow, although each slow, rattling breath seemed like it would be her last. All the way across the Atlantic from Paris, back to her home here in Virginia, she’d kept breathing. He could hear her heart beating, but weakly and irregularly.

But still, she was unconscious. It didn’t matter how hard Damon willed her to wake up. It didn’t matter if he pleaded with Elena herself, or if he pulled out all the half-forgotten prayers of his childhood and begged a god who he was sure had turned away from him long ago.

Nothing Damon did mattered.

Gently, he brushed back a long strand of Elena’s hair from her cheek. The once bright gold was duller now, tangled and matted, and her cheeks were sallow. She looked so close to death that Damon’s heart clenched.

Lifting his hand away from Elena’s face, Damon pressed his fist briefly against his chest. There was a dull empty ache there, where he was used to feeling Elena’s emotions running bright and strong through the bond between them. He hadn’t felt anything from their bond since Elena had fallen unconscious.

“Come as fast as you can,” he heard Meredith say in the living room. On the other end of the phone line, he could hear Bonnie’s distressed voice promising to drop everything, to catch the first plane out. When Meredith finally hung up, there was a moment of pure silence before she gave a tearful sniff.

She was pinning her hopes on the little redbird’s magic, he knew. Damon couldn’t help a traitorous little spark of hope himself—Bonnie was so Powerful now—but, deep inside, he knew that even Bonnie wouldn’t be able to help. The Guardians had made up their minds, and Elena was doomed.

Damon stood and paced across the bedroom to stare out of the open window. Outside, the sun was setting. The bedroom’s walls pressed in around him. He was achingly conscious of Elena, lying silent and still behind him.

Enough. He could sit by her bedside as long as he liked, but he wasn’t helping her. Damon was useless. He had to get out of here, away from Elena’s shallow breaths and the faint, dreadful scent of death that was slowly filling the room.

Damon concentrated and felt his body compact, his bones twisting and hollowing. Shining black feathers sprang from his new form. After a few moments, a sleek black crow spread his wings wide and flew through the window and out into the night.

Angling his wings to catch the evening breeze, Damon turned toward the river. Above him, dark gray clouds gathered, mirroring his emotions.

Without consciously directing his flight, he soon found himself above Stefan’s grave on the riverbank. Landing and transforming gracefully back to his natural form, Damon looked around. It had only been a few weeks since they’d buried Stefan, but grass had already grown over the earth where his younger brother lay. As Damon gazed at it, the ache in his chest intensified.

He bent and laid one hand against the ground over Stefan’s grave. The earth was dry and crumbled under his fingers. “I’m sorry, little brother,” he said. “I failed you. I’ve failed Elena.”

Straightening, he wondered what he was doing. Dead was dead. Stefan couldn’t forgive him now, as much as it pained Damon to want him to.

They’d spent so much time hating each other. Damon could admit now that it was his fault. He’d resented his younger brother for a host of reasons, beginning with the fact that their father had loved Stefan best. His hatred had intensified after that dreadful day that they’d killed each other, and through centuries of watching from a distance as Stefan suffered through his vampirism and refrained from killing humans, Damon had grown more and more bitter. Even as a monster, Stefan had been more virtuous than Damon had been as a man, and Damon had loathed him for it.

But by the time Jack came along, Damon didn’t hate Stefan anymore. Jack. Damon’s jaw tightened with hatred, and overhead, thunder rumbled in response.

Jack Daltry had pretended to be a human hunting a vicious, ancient vampire. It had all been a lie: Jack was a scientist who had created a new faster, stronger vampire race, who was on a mission to destroy older vampires. Including Stefan, Katherine, and Damon himself.

Damon hadn’t even been on the same continent when Stefan was killed. He’d come home in time for Stefan’s funeral, in time to helplessly witness Elena’s devastation. Damon rubbed at his chest with one hand, wincing at the memory of how Elena’s pain had resonated through the magical bond between them, drawing him home. That pain was how he had known Stefan was dead. Nothing else could have hurt Elena so much.

Damon and Elena’s bond was at the root of what had happened to Elena now. The Guardians had linked them to keep Damon under control. They’d rightly decided that if Damon and Elena were connected, it would prevent Damon from following his worst impulses. They’d spelled it out for him: If he fed on the unwilling, Elena would suffer. If he killed a human, Elena would die.

Fat raindrops were beginning to fall, the light brown earth of the riverbank turning a splotchy brown. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Damon spoke again, staring down at his brother’s grave. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

All they had wanted, what had consumed him and Elena both, was vengeance. And they had succeeded. They had tracked Jack down and Damon had killed him, had avenged Stefan’s death.

After Jack died, Elena had finally felt at peace about Stefan. She’d turned to Damon, and for the first time they could love each other, without feeling that they were betraying Stefan. Damon knew he didn’t deserve her. Whatever soul he’d once had, it had been corrupted long ago. But Elena had wanted him anyway.

They’d had two glorious weeks traveling together, enraptured with each other. Then Elena had collapsed, writhing in pain, and Mylea, the cold-faced Guardian who had bound them, arrived.

Damon had assumed it was safe to kill Jack Daltry because Jack was a vampire. It was humans who were forbidden; monsters were fair game to Damon. He’d been a fool. Jack had made himself a vampire, used science to replicate the strength and ferocity of the vampire while getting rid of a vampire’s traditional vulnerabilities to wood, fire, sunlight.

He had changed himself through mortal means. He had never died; his human life had never ended. Jack wasn’t a real vampire, just an imitation. There wasn’t a drop of magic in him. As far as the Guardians were concerned, Damon had broken their bargain. And now was paying the price.

Dying.

Damon had brought her back to Dalcrest. Something in him had made him sure that she would want to be here, among the people she loved.

They’d battled unkillable monsters, saved the world together. Part of him, maybe foolishly, hoped that, together, they could all help him save her.

But, now that they were here and nothing had changed, he was terrified that they couldn’t. Maybe Elena was beyond their reach. Damon shuddered at the thought, hunching his shoulders against the pounding rain.

“Stefan,” he whispered, looking at the rain-soaked dirt of his brother’s grave, “what can I do?” He had tried forcing his blood down her throat—she wouldn’t have wanted it, but better a vampire than gone—but when he’d finally succeeded in making her swallow, it had done nothing.

Rage rose in him, and thunder cracked overhead. Damon turned his face up toward the sky, streams of water running through his hair, soaking his clothes. “Mylea!” he shouted, his own voice sounding raw and broken beneath the steady pounding of the storm. “I surrender! Punish me, I don’t care. Anything. Just tell me what to do!” He paused and held his breath, listening and watching for some sign that the Guardians were prepared to bargain. He could feel tears running down his face, a little warmer than the raindrops. “Please,” he whispered. “Save her.”

There was no response, nothing but the sounds of the river and the rain. If the Guardian could hear him, she clearly didn’t care.

Chapter 2

Meredith smoothed her hand across Elena’s forehead. It was cold and clammy, and there were dark circles beneath Elena’s eyes, startling against her pale skin. Meredith couldn’t pull her eyes away from Elena’s sleeping face, hoping against hope that something would happen, that she would suddenly crinkle her face in the half-annoyed way she always did in the mornings.

Stiffening, Meredith stared. Had there been a flicker of motion beneath Elena’s closed eyelids?

“Elena?” Meredith said, keeping her voice soft and calm. “Can you hear me?”

There was no response. Of course there wasn’t. They’d been trying for days, first Damon in Paris and then, once he’d gotten Elena home, Meredith had tried to wake her every way she could think of.

In all that time, nothing had changed. Elena had lain as still and passive as a mannequin, with only a shallow, steady breathing to show that she still lived.

Damon had said that, before she fell into this coma, Elena had been in terrible pain. Meredith was glad she had missed that, glad that Elena wasn’t suffering now. But this—this silent, pale creature—terrified Meredith. It couldn’t be Elena. Not clever, quick Elena who had survived so much, who had been closer than a sister to Meredith since they were kids.

Meredith rose from her chair next to the big white bed, unable to bring herself to look at Elena anymore. Instead, she moved around the bedroom, efficiently tidying: books off the nightstand and back onto the shelves, shoes neatly straightened on the closet floor. She kept her eyes fixed on what she was doing. She was not going to think about the still figure in the bed.

Meredith’s teeth gave a hollow throb, and she rubbed absently at her gums with one finger. She would need to slip out to the woods soon to feed, but she couldn’t leave Elena alone.

Alone. Their ranks were dwindling. Stefan was dead. Elena was dying. Alaric, Bonnie, and Matt were all still on their way: Bonnie from her new home, Alaric from an academic conference, Matt from visiting his girlfriend, Jasmine’s, parents. Who knew where Damon was? He had disappeared hours ago.

Meredith picked up a thin, silver-patterned scarf and folded it neatly. Elena had been wearing this the last time Meredith had seen her. “I finally know,” she’d told Meredith, her face so full of joy it hurt to remember. “Stefan wants me to live. He wants me to be happy. I can love Damon now … it’s okay.”

Meredith blinked hard, pushing her tears away. Elena had been wrong. Everything was far from okay.

Clutching the scarf, Meredith jerked open a drawer. As she was about to stuff it inside, her hands faltered at the sight of the maroon book inside. Who would have guessed that poised, grown-up Elena Gilbert kept a high school yearbook in the nightstand next to her bed?

Gingerly, she pulled the book out of the drawer and flipped through its pages. Junior year. Their last real yearbook, the one before everything changed. There had been two yearbooks for senior year. The first, the one from the senior year Meredith remembered, had a memorial page for Elena Gilbert and Sue Carson. The other, for the changed world the Guardians had created, showed nothing but teams, classes, and clubs. Neither felt true now. But there was only one version of their junior year.

Her own face, years younger, smiled up from a picture of Homecoming Court. Elena had been class Princess, of course. Junior dance committee. She, Elena, and Bonnie had quit debate team after about a month, but they were in the picture, grinning like goons. An action shot of Matt on the football field, his face set as he powered past a tackle. It all seemed so normal.

She turned to the back, and her own handwriting stood out at her.

Elena,

What can I say? My best friend and sister, you’re always there for me. But I’ll remember the picnics up at Hot Springs, driving to the fraternity party at UVA, Matt and the guys crashing your birthday sleepover. All the times getting ready for a dance together—you, me, Bonnie, and Caroline—was even better than the dance itself.

Have a super-fabu time in Paris this summer, you lucky girl, and remember this! Only one more year till FREEDOM!!!

XOXO

Meredith

Such an ordinary yearbook message, between two ordinary girls. Before Elena’s parents had died. Before the Salvatore brothers had come to Fell’s Church, and nothing had ever been ordinary again. Elena and Meredith hadn’t gotten that freedom the message promised, the freedom to grow up and be normal, to determine their own destinies. Neither had Bonnie nor Matt, nor had the people they’d fallen in love with as they got older.

Instead, they’d all been dragged under by the supernatural: vampires and werewolves, demons and Guardians. The responsibilities of saving everyone, of standing guard between everyday life and the darkness outside had pulled them all in, held them hostage.

Elena most of all, Meredith thought, and snuck a look back at the bed. Elena’s chest moved almost imperceptibly as she breathed, her rattling, slow breaths loud in the quiet room. Elena had never really had a chance, not once she’d fallen for Stefan Salvatore.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Damon came in, silent and graceful. He looked to the bed first, a quick, worried glance, and then leaned against the doorjamb as if he was suddenly too tired to stand. His eyes, red-rimmed, met Meredith’s, and she wondered if he’d been crying. Damon might rage or let himself be consumed with bitterness, but he never cried.

But maybe now, at the end of everything, he did.

Matt parked crookedly, one wheel up on the curb, and bolted out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “I knew this would happen someday,” he gritted out, teeth clenched, as he stormed down the sidewalk toward Elena’s apartment building. “I knew Stefan and Damon would get her killed.”

Jasmine followed more slowly, her golden-brown eyes serious. “Don’t say that,” she told him, laying a hand on his arm as they waited for the elevator. “Elena’s not dead. We can’t give up on her.”

Matt bit his lip and stayed silent for the elevator ride up to Elena’s apartment. The hall was quiet, and he hesitated a moment before knocking heavily on the apartment door.

“Take the worst possible thing you can imagine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with rage, “and that’s it, that’s the truth. Always.” Beside him, Jasmine sucked in a breath and raised a hand to touch him again, just as the door swung open.

Damon was in the doorway, his pale face pinched, his dark hair messy. He looked more human than Matt had ever seen him. Before anyone could speak, Matt balled up his fist and punched Damon in the face as hard as he could.

Damon’s head rocked back slightly and he blinked in surprise, a red mark on his white cheek.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said with a thin, joyless smile. He touched his cheek lightly, and then let his hand drop, the smile disappearing. “I probably deserved that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Matt said, shouldering past him into the apartment.

He stopped in the doorway of Elena’s bedroom. His heart sank at the sight of her.

When he was little, there had been an amusement park up on Route 40 that had a fairytale theme to it. Matt’s dad used to take him up there on Saturdays sometimes. He hadn’t thought of it for years. But now it came rushing back. Silent and still, Elena reminded him of the Sleeping Beauty in the Hall of Fairies. The blonde princess, laid out like a sacrifice, not even a hint of movement. Pale and pretty and never changing.

Matt had always thought she’d looked dead.

Jasmine moved past him into the bedroom and felt Elena’s throat for a pulse, then lifted one eyelid to look at her pupils. She bit her lip and looked back toward Matt. He could read the regret in her face.

“The doctors in Paris were baffled,” Damon said from behind him. “They’d never seen anything like this. I tried the hospital there before booking a plane home, just in case. But it was useless.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Matt said. His mouth felt too dry, and his words sounded thick to his own ears. “The Guardians wouldn’t mess around with any kind of human illness. If they gave this to her, they’re the only ones who can fix it. We just need to make them do it.”

Even as he said it, a cold rush of hopelessness spread through him. What did they have to offer the Guardians? What could possibly entice those clear-eyed, emotionless judges to give back Elena?

Chapter 3

“Well, how did you get the Guardians to come when Elena made the original bargain with them?” Meredith asked. “Maybe we can convince them …” Her voice trailed off, as she clearly tried and failed to imagine the Guardians of the Celestial Court being moved by anything they had to say. They had only listened to Elena because she was valuable to them.

Damon gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper. They were wasting time, he was sure of it. The Celestial Guardians had no interest in helping them.

“The little Guardian, Andrés, went into a trance and told them Elena was ready to kill me,” he said flatly. “That brought Mylea fast enough. Unfortunately, we’ve got a shortage of Earthly Guardians around here now.”

“They saved you. Funny, isn’t it, how everyone dies except you, Damon?” Matt said, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. “Andrés. Stefan. And now—” His words broke off, and his mouth closed in a thin, miserable line.

A hot ball of hate burned in Damon’s chest, and he momentarily imagined breaking Matt’s neck. He could easily envision the shocked expression in the boy’s blue eyes, the crisp snap of his spine. Then his shoulders slumped as he let the anger drain out of him. He deserved Matt’s scorn. Everything Matt had said was true. The thing Damon was best at was survival, and now he’d outlived everyone—almost—who’d ever managed, despite everything, to love him. If Elena died, there would be no one.

He didn’t want to think about it.

As footsteps approached the apartment door, he straightened, then rose from his seat. He thought he recognized the quick, light steps pattering down the hall, and the steady, heavier tread that followed. The door opened, and Bonnie burst in.

“We got here as fast as we could,” she said rapidly. “The airport was a zoo, and then the traffic coming down from Richmond was—” She broke off. “Oh, Meredith.” She flung herself across the room and into the taller girl’s arms.

They clung to each other for a minute, Bonnie’s face buried in Meredith’s shoulder, and then she raised her head and held it high, sticking out her chin bravely. “So, I’m gone for a couple of weeks and everything falls apart?” she said. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her tone was casual, even joking.

Good girl. Damon knew the little redbird would stay brave, even though she was as scared as they all were.

Zander was leaning in the doorway, watching them all patiently. His longish white-blond hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were solemn.

Letting go of Meredith, Bonnie took a deep breath. “So, what can I do?”

“Well,” Meredith said, “we think you’re probably our best chance of getting in touch with Mylea or the other Celestial Guardians. If you can go into a trance and reach them, maybe we can convince them to save Elena.”

Bonnie grimaced. “I’ve been trying,” she said. “Ever since you called me. But … nothing. If they can hear me, they’re not responding.”

“It’s not going to work,” Damon said, unable to stop himself. Why would the Guardians listen to them? If they were letting this happen to Elena, the Guardians had written her and her Powers off. They’d never had the slightest interest in the rest of them, other than planning to kill Damon himself.

“You have a better idea?” Matt sneered.

“Try to contact Elena instead,” Damon said quickly, the idea coming to him as he spoke. “You did it when Klaus had her, and we didn’t have anything, not even a body then. Now we’ve still got Elena, she’s just … We can’t reach her.” His chest felt uncomfortably tight as he finished the sentence.

Whatever Bonnie heard in his voice, her face softened. “I’ll try,” she said and made her way to where Elena laid.

The way Elena’s hands were folded across her chest was too much like a corpse, and Damon grimaced.

“Oh, Elena,” Bonnie said, her brown eyes shining with tears. Standing at the bedside, she touched Elena’s forehead gently, just for a moment.

The others trailed in after her. Jasmine and Matt stood on the other side of the bed, Matt only glancing at Elena briefly before fixing his gaze on the wall. Jasmine took his hand and squeezed it hard. Zander leaned against the wall, holding a bag of Bonnie’s supplies, while Meredith hovered at the foot of the bed, her fingers twisting nervously. Damon stood in the doorway.

Bonnie took Elena’s limp hands in hers and shut her eyes, her forehead crinkling in concentration. Then she opened her eyes again and shook her head, letting go of Elena. “I’m going to need to focus,” she said. “Can you guys wait outside?”

Damon stepped farther into the room, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m staying.”

Bonnie sighed. “Is it any use arguing with you about this?” she asked. When Damon stayed silent, she gave him a rueful half smile. “Then I won’t bother. But everybody else out. I need quiet.”

Matt looked like he wanted to object, but he filed out with the others. As Zander left, he handed the bag he was holding to Bonnie, brushing his fingers against hers as he passed it over.

“Okay,” Bonnie said, businesslike, when the others were all gone and the door was closed behind them. “If you want to stay, you have to help.” She handed him the bag. “Pull out the purple and blue candles, and put them on the nightstand near her head. They’re good for deep healing. I don’t know if they’ll help, but they can’t hurt.”

Damon followed her directions. He kept his eyes fixed on the candles as he arranged and lit them.

Once the candles were in place, Bonnie took out a bronze bowl and set it on the padded bench at the foot of Elena’s bed. Pulling out an assortment of little bags, she started adding pinches of dried herbs to the bowl. “Anise for dreams,” she told Damon absently, and tipped in some limp dry flower petals. “Chrysanthemum petals for healing and protection. Mugwort, that’s for psychic powers and traveling. I just have to reach her.” She added a splash of oil from a small bottle, then pulled out a silver lighter and, with a flick of her finger, set fire to the small pile of herbs in the bowl. They smoldered slowly, a trickle of black smoke rising up toward the ceiling.

“Since when do you need anything to light a flame, redbird?” Damon asked, and Bonnie tilted her chin in acknowledgment of his point.

“I figure I should save my energy,” she said, and dug a thin silver dagger out of the bag. “Cut me a piece of Elena’s hair, please.”

Damon hesitated before moving back to the head of the bed. Elena’s mouth was relaxed, a tiny bit open, and her thick golden lashes brushed her cheekbones. Thin, bluish capillaries ran across her eyelids, and her brow was smooth, untroubled. She looked like a doll or an empty image. As if there were no Elena left in there at all.

Her hair slid silkily across his fingers as he lifted a lock, and he could smell the citrus scent of her shampoo. Cutting through the hair, he winced as he accidentally pulled it tight, but Elena didn’t react.

“Okay,” Bonnie said, taking the lock of hair from him and dropping it into the bowl. The sickening smell of burning hair filled the room. “Now, cut her arm.”

Damon’s gaze shot up to meet hers. Bonnie looked at him squarely, her mouth set. “We need her blood,” she said.

Of course. It always has to be blood. If anyone ought to know that, it was a vampire. Blood and hair, intimate and primal, would lead Bonnie to Elena if anything would. He lifted Elena’s arm, and Bonnie slid the bowl beneath it as Damon used the silver knife to make a thin, shallow scratch on the underside of Elena’s forearm. He half hoped for a twitch of pain as he cut, but again, Elena didn’t react. A few drops of blood dripped into the bowl before Bonnie pulled it away. There was a soft, sizzling noise.

Damon could smell the richness of Elena’s blood, and his canines ached and sharpened in response, but he barely noticed. Taking a tissue from the box by the bed, he pressed it against the spreading red line on Elena’s arm for a few moments until the bleeding had stopped.

“Now what?” he began to say, but his voice died as he turned back to Bonnie. A sensation of Power rose and filled the room, making Damon’s skin tingle. Bonnie had already slipped into a trance, her eyes wide and blank. Her pupils dilated as she stared down into the flames in the brass bowl.

Her hands rested lightly on the end of Elena’s bed. Her breathing slowed and deepened. As Damon watched, Bonnie’s eyes flickered, tracking something that only she could see.

Crossing the room, Damon let himself lounge against the windowsill, gazing out. Bonnie could be in a trance for a very long time. Outside the window, it was still pitch-black, although it must be the early hours of the morning by now. He unloosed a questioning tendril of his own Power, searching into the darkness.

There wasn’t much out there. The sharp, predatory mind of an owl swooping silently through the sky. A wily fox slipped through the bushes near the apartment building. Farther away, he could sense the quiet consciousness of the humans asleep through the town.

Behind him, Bonnie’s mind was questing, gently but determined. He could feel the others, too, each one’s mind churning restlessly as they waited outside the bedroom.

But, even though she was right behind him, lying in that white-draped bed, he could feel nothing of Elena. Damon felt as if something inside him had been ripped apart. His Elena, just one last breath away from leaving him forever.

And then he thought he saw one slender golden eyebrow twitch, just a millimeter.

“Bonnie,” he said, his throat constricting. But the little witch, deep in her trance, didn’t hear him. He came closer to the bed again, close enough that he could feel the heat of the candles burning all around Elena.

Nothing. She could have been a statue. He sent his Power out desperately, but there was no glimmer of consciousness from her.

He must have imagined it.

Damon crouched down and brought his face closer to Elena’s, watching her carefully. Time passed and he stayed still, his gaze intent on Elena’s face. He was a predator; he could keep his mind clear and his eyes sharp for hours. But there was nothing.

He couldn’t leave here, not while there was still that cruel drop of hope. But if Elena died, then it would be time to take off the ring that had let him walk in sunlight all these years. He could step into the sun and let go at last.

His jaw tightened. He wasn’t going to give up yet. After all, Elena had survived so much before this.

Dawn was breaking, sending long swathes of pink and gold across the sky, by the time Bonnie finally stirred. She blinked at Damon, seemingly confused. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her usually creamy skin looked pale and wan.

“Oh,” she said, her voice small. “Oh, Damon.” She pressed one slim hand against her mouth, as if holding back her own words.

Damon straightened, feeling as if he were stepping in front of the firing line. Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. The tiny spark of hope in his chest flickered and began to burn again. “Well?” he asked.

Bonnie’s eyes reddened, then overflowed, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t even begin to tell what’s wrong. I couldn’t reach her. It was like—like she’s already gone.”

Damon jerked backward, and Bonnie reached out a trembling hand toward him. “I think,” she sobbed, “I think it might be time to start saying good-bye. Whatever the Celestial Guardians did to her, I don’t think Elena’s coming back.”

“No.” Damon heard his own voice, sharp as a whipcrack, and he strode forward, straight past Bonnie, and flung open the bedroom door. The others were out there, all of them, but he ignored their babble of questions as he shouldered past them. He had a brief impression of Meredith’s face, anxious and strained, before he left the apartment.

He didn’t know where he was going. But there had to be something Damon could do, somewhere he could go to help Elena. He’d lost everyone. Everyone he’d ever truly cared for was dead. He wasn’t going to say good-bye to Elena—not now, not ever. He wasn’t going to lose her.

Chapter 4

“I love you, Damon,” Elena whispered.

He couldn’t hear her. None of them could hear her. Most of the time she couldn’t hear them, either, just enough to get the fleeting impression of tears and whispers and arguments. She couldn’t understand more than a word or two, sometimes just enough to recognize a voice.

She thought she’d heard Damon. But she had to admit there was the possibility she’d imagined it, that she was imagining all the familiar distant voices, just to keep herself company.

She was dying. She must be. There had been that terrible pain, Mylea had appeared, and then Elena had found herself in this place of emptiness.

Elena had hoped for a while that she might find Stefan. She’d seen his ghost, she knew his consciousness still lingered somewhere, but the place she was in now didn’t feel like any kind of spectral realm. She’d given up looking for Stefan when it became clear that there was no one here except Elena.

A soft gray light shone all around her, just enough to illuminate what seemed like a fog. It felt like a fog, too. She was surrounded by a damp chill.

She’d walked for miles, but nothing changed. She might not have believed she was moving at all, except for the ache in her feet. When she stopped and stood still, the fog was just the same.

Elena clenched her fists and glared into the gray nothingness. She wasn’t going to let this happen. She wasn’t going to lie down and die, just because the Celestial Guardians wanted her to.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Hey! I’m still here!” Her words sounded muffled to her own ears, as if she was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton. “Let me out!” she shouted, trying to get louder, fiercer. Somebody had to be in charge here, and she would get their attention and make them let her go.

Elena’s stomach jolted nervously. What if no one ever responded? She couldn’t stay here forever. The moment she thought this, finally, something changed. The fog drew back, and a sunlit road appeared.

Elena recognized the street. If she ignored the banks of gray nothingness on either side, it was the road that led to the house she had grown up in, back in Fell’s Church. She recognized a long crack in the asphalt, the short grass growing at the edge of the road. But she hadn’t lived there for years, not since that final year of high school. Stefan had bought it for her before he died, but she had been able to bring herself to visit only once.

Elena had a sudden, almost physical longing to walk down the path, to feel the sunlight on her shoulders, smell the summer scent of just-cut grass. As she watched, the sunshine intensified at the far end of the road, glowing so brightly Elena had to squint.

It was pulling her toward it, a steady, warm tug somewhere in the middle of her chest. There was peace down that road, she knew.

No. She stepped back, away from the road. They weren’t going to trap her so easily.

“Walk into the light?” she shouted, suddenly furious. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

The longing only increased. At the end of that road, she was sure, was almost everything she had ever wanted. Stefan, alive again, his leaf-green eyes shining with excitement at seeing her. Her parents, just as young and happy as they’d been when they died. Elena could almost see their welcoming faces, and it made her ache with love and loneliness.

Unwillingly, she raised a foot, ready to step forward, and then forced herself still.

“No,” she said, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard and steadied it, then spoke again more firmly. “No. I refuse. I am Elena Gilbert, and I am a Guardian. I still have a part to play in the living world. Send me back.”

The road stretched farther in front of her, sunlit and tempting. Grinding her teeth, Elena swung around and turned her back on it.

When she turned, she could see the same formless fog. But now there was a dark shape moving through it. A person, Elena realized. Her heart began to pound harder, and her mouth went dry. Was it someone coming in response to her call? For a panicky moment, she imagined a Grim Reaper, silent in black, come to collect her.

But no. As the figure came closer, Elena was able to make out that it was Mylea, the Celestial Guardian who had been overseeing Elena’s life for years. When she finally halted in front of Elena, Mylea looked as serene and unruffled as ever, her golden hair pulled back into a bun, her ice-blue gaze level and cool.

“Elena, you made a bargain,” she said firmly. “Damon killed a human, and so you have to die. You agreed to this, years ago.”

“That’s not fair,” Elena said, scowling. She sounded like a child, she realized, and she made an effort to temper her voice so that she sounded more reasonable. “Damon was working under the assumption that Jack Daltry was a vampire, and so he could be killed without breaking our agreement. Jack was a vampire. He drank blood, and he had all the strengths of a vampire. He was a monster.”

Mylea sighed. “As I’ve already explained to you, the fact that Jack Daltry chose to use his scientific gifts to mutilate himself did not make him less human.” Her face softened, just a fraction. “He might have been a monster, but he was a human one.”

“But we didn’t know that,” Elena told her, exasperated.

“You knew that he had never died, that he had never gone through the transformations every vampire suffers through. You knew that he and his creations did not have the flaws that weaken true vampires.” Mylea spread her hands. “If anyone should have been able to recognize a true vampire, it would be you and Damon Salvatore.”

“Jack was dangerous,” Elena snapped. “The Guardians ought to be thanking us. I’m supposed to protect people.”

Mylea shrugged, a graceful tilt of her shoulders. “You were warned that he was not your concern.”

It was true; the Guardians had warned her. But in such a roundabout way that she’d had no idea of the possible consequences of hunting Jack. Fear ran through Elena, and she swallowed hard. This was real. She hadn’t quite believed that the Guardians would kill her, but it was true. They would let her die.

“Please,” she said impulsively, reaching out for Mylea’s arm. “There must be something I can do. Isn’t there any way to change this? I’ve served the Guardians for a long time.”

Mylea’s expression remained as emotionless as ever, but Elena thought she saw a flash of sympathy deep in her eyes.

“There must be something,” Elena said desperately.

Mylea frowned, a tiny crease appearing between her slim eyebrows. “There is one way you can change your future,” she admitted.

“Please,” Elena begged again. “Anything.”

“If you can go back and change the course of things, prove that you and the Salvatore brothers can live without destroying one another or other people, you can have your life back.” Mylea tilted her head a little, watching Elena closely. Obviously, she thought that she had made herself clear.

“What do you mean?” Elena asked, startled. Destroying one another? They loved one another.

Mylea shook her head. “You and the Salvatore brothers have been in a dangerous cycle for years. You were the one who brought them back together after they’d been apart for centuries, Elena, and their rivalry over you led to everything that’s gone wrong here since then. The destruction of Fell’s Church was a direct effect of your relationship.”

Elena gasped, stricken.

Eyes narrowing, Mylea went on. “The vampire Katherine’s jealousy over both Salvatore brothers’ obsession with you led to the beginnings of death and violence in Fell’s Church. Her death as a result of her actions there led to the vampire Klaus’s attacks on the town. Damon Salvatore’s rage over your choosing his brother over him resulted in the kitsune demons gaining a foothold there and destroying Fell’s Church at last.”

“But the Guardians brought Fell’s Church back,” Elena objected.

“And yet the death continued,” Mylea told her. “The students at Dalcrest College, Klaus’s victims, the Guardian Andrés—all had their roots in the damaged love between the three of you. Everything has consequences, Elena.”

Elena pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling dizzy and sickened. It wasn’t true, was it? She and Damon and Stefan were responsible for all the horror that had surrounded them. “What do you mean ‘go back’?”

“I can send you back to when it all began,” Mylea said. Her eyes, a lighter blue than Elena’s own, held Elena’s gaze. “William Tanner’s death was the first time Damon Salvatore had killed in years, and it was the first link in the chain of violence. If you can prevent it from happening and keep Damon from giving in to the darkness within him, perhaps you can turn the course of events that will, in the present timeline, eventually kill you all.”

“Damon hadn’t killed for years?” Elena said slowly. She hadn’t known that. Neither had Stefan, she was sure of it.

She’d thought her love had saved him. Had saved both Damon and Stefan. The Guardians twist the truth, she reminded herself, and swallowed hard, pushing away the tears that prickled at the back of her eyes. She wanted to argue with Mylea, but instead she asked, “You can send me back in time?”

Mylea nodded briskly. “You’ll be back in your old body, in your old life,” she said. “This is an opportunity to relive those days and change things.” Her eyes seemed to soften slightly, and she went on, “Don’t take this challenge lightly, Elena. What you change in the past will affect your future. Once you return, everything will be different. You might not be able to be with either of the Salvatore brothers.”

The gray mist seemed to swirl before Elena’s eyes. She could lose Damon, too? But their love was strong, she reminded herself. Even when she had been determined to only love Stefan, fate had pulled her and Damon together.

“I’ll do it,” she said, trying to feel confident. She didn’t know what she could do, not yet, but she would stop Damon from killing, somehow fix the hatred between the brothers before it could blossom into something that would affect more than the two of them. “But how?”

Mylea’s lips quirked up in an almost tender smile. “Love is a very powerful force,” she said quietly, and raised one hand to press against Elena’s forehead. Elena had a moment to feel the cool strength of that slender hand, and then everything faded to black.

Chapter 5

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe it.

Here I am in my old home at 5:30 in the morning, just a few hours before my senior year of high school begins.

Again.

I remember this morning vividly, the last morning of my life before I met Stefan Salvatore. The Elena I was then—the one who should be here now—was so lost. I didn’t feel like I belonged here, or like I belonged anywhere. I was searching for something that was just out of reach.

My bedroom looks just the way it always did, warm and cozy. My bay window gives me a view onto the quince tree outside. Down the hall are dear Aunt Judith and my darling baby sister, Margaret, who’s only four and tucked up tight in bed, not half-grown and miles away.

Everything feels as if I might break it, it’s so fragile. This moment has been gone for years.

Elena stopped writing and stared at her last line, shaking her head. Soon, she’d see everyone, everything, unchanged. They’d been so naïve—in a good way—focused on popularity and high school romances, and unaware of the darkness that hovered just outside their pleasant lives. She’d never appreciated what she had then. This time, she’d know to savor those moments of innocence.

But she wasn’t just here to revisit her past.

Tapping her pen against the pages of the small book with the blue velvet cover, she thought for a moment, and then bent her head and began writing again.

Stefan is alive here. When I think about being with him, my hands start to shake and I can hardly breathe. Part of me died with him, and now I’m going to see him again. Whatever happens next, at least I’ll have that.

If I’m going to save Damon, stop the destruction Mylea outlined, I can’t be with Stefan this time. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But if I want Damon to listen to me, I have to be with him, not Stefan. I already know how things turn out if I pursue Stefan now.

I love them both. So much. I always have.

But I’ve learned my lesson about trying to have them both. If I want them both in my life, things fall apart. They always fall apart, no matter what we do. I have to choose. And, if I can keep Damon from killing Mr. Tanner, maybe I can save us all.

With a click and a buzz, Elena’s alarm clock went off. Closing her journal, she got up. Soon, it would be time to go to school. Would she remember enough about who she had been then? She worried that somehow, everyone would see that she was the wrong Elena, in the wrong time.

A hot bath and some coffee, and I’ll calm down, she thought. She had time.

After a leisurely bath, she took her time getting dressed. The clothes—all the gorgeous new outfits she’d gotten in Paris—looked outdated to her now, but she still sort of loved them. She remembered what she’d worn on this day, the first day of her senior year. A pale rose top and white linen shorts. She pulled them on again. They made her look tempting, as sweet and refreshing as a raspberry sundae, she thought as she looked critically into the mirror, pulling back her hair with a deep rose ribbon.

“Elena! You’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Judith’s voice drifted up from below. Glancing in the mirror one last time—her face was a trifle grim, as if she were headed into battle, but that couldn’t be helped—Elena grabbed her backpack and headed for the stairs.

Downstairs, Aunt Judith was burning something on the stove, and Margaret was eating cereal at the kitchen table. The sight of them stopped Elena in her tracks for a second. She’d forgotten how little Margaret was then. And Aunt Judith had still been wearing her flyaway hair long.

Elena pushed herself back into motion and kissed Aunt Judith quickly on the cheek. “Good morning,” she said lightly. “Sorry, I don’t have time for breakfast.”

“But, Elena, you can’t just go off without eating. You need your protein—”

It was all coming back to her. She felt like an actress, mouthing familiar lines she’d said a hundred times before. “I’ll get a doughnut before school,” she said, dropping a kiss on the top of Margaret’s silky head and turning to go.

“But, Elena—”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Judith,” Elena said cheerfully. “It’ll all be fine.” At the front door, she spun to take one last quick look at them. Margaret, still half-asleep, licked her spoon. Aunt Judith, her eyes full of love, gave Elena a small, worried smile.

Elena’s heart ached a little. Part of her wanted to go back, forget school and the future, and sit down at the table with them. So much had happened since this moment, and she’d never believed she would be back here like this again. But she couldn’t stay. Margaret wiggled her fingers in a wave, and Elena, spurring herself into movement, winked at the little girl as she went through the door.

“Elena,” Aunt Judith said. “I really think—”

She closed the door behind her, cutting off Aunt Judith’s protests, and stepped out onto the front porch.

And stopped.

The world outside was silent, the street deserted. The tall, pretty Victorian houses seemed to loom above her. Overhead, the sky was milky and opaque, and the air felt oppressively heavy.

It was as if the whole street were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw something move. Something was watching her.

She turned and caught sight of a huge black crow, the biggest crow she had ever seen, sitting in the quince tree in her front yard. It was completely still, and its glittering black eyes were fixed on her with an intent, almost human gaze.

Elena bit back a laugh and turned away, letting her eyes slide over the crow as if she hadn’t noticed it.

Damon. She had almost forgotten that this was the first time she’d seen him, that he’d watched her—frightened her—as a crow this first morning. There was a glad little bubble of joy rising in her chest, but she suppressed the urge to call out to him. It wasn’t the time, not yet.

Instead, she took a deep breath, hopped off the porch, and strode confidently down the street. Behind her, she heard a harsh croak and the flapping of wings, and she smiled to herself. Damon couldn’t stand being ignored. She didn’t turn back around.

It was only a few blocks to the high school, and Elena spent the walk reminiscing. There was the coffee shop she and Matt had gone to on their first date junior year; there was the little health food shop where Aunt Judith had insisted on buying her special organic cereal. There was the house of the terrible Kline twins, who Elena had babysat during her sophomore year of school.

In her real life, it hadn’t been that long since Elena had been to Fell’s Church, but things had changed since she was in high school. Stores had closed and opened, houses were remodeled. This was the way it had been when she’d lived here, the way it was supposed to be.

At the school, a crowd of her friends had gathered in the parking lot, chattering and showing off their new clothes. It was everyone who mattered, plus four or five girls who had hung around them in the hopes of gathering some scraps of popularity.

Elena winced. Everyone who mattered. The nasty thought had slotted right into her mind. The Elena who belonged here had thought that.

One by one, her best friends hugged her in welcome. They looked so young, Elena thought, her heart aching. They all thought they were so sophisticated, but their seventeen- and eighteen-year-old faces still had childish curves, and their eyes were wide with thinly veiled excitement at the first day of their senior year.

Caroline, her green eyes narrow, laid one cool cheek against Elena’s for a second and then stepped back. “Welcome home, Elena,” she said dryly. “It must feel like the backwoods for you after Paris.”

Her expression was stiff and resentful, and Elena wondered at how she had managed to not notice then how much the other girl hated her.

Elena shrugged and laughed a little, feeling awkward. “Paris was nice, but there’s no place like home.”

For a moment, she tried to focus in on Caroline, to read her aura, but it was hopeless. Elena wasn’t a Guardian here, and so she didn’t have those powers anymore. It was a strange, helpless feeling to lose them.

Then Bonnie flung her arms around Elena, her red curls tickling the taller girl’s chin, and Elena relaxed.

“Do you like my hair? I think it makes me look taller.” Bonnie fluffed up her bangs and smiled.

“Gorgeous,” Elena said, laughing. “But maybe not tall.”

Once Bonnie let go, Meredith moved forward for a warm hug. Raising one elegant eyebrow, she considered Elena. “Well, your hair is two shades lighter from the sun … but where’s your tan? I thought you were living it up on the French Riviera.”

Wait. Elena remembered this. She lifted her own pale hands and said, “You know I never tan.”

“Just a minute, that reminds me!” Bonnie grabbed one of Elena’s hands. “Guess what I learned from my cousin this summer? Palm reading!”

There were a few groans, and someone laughed. Elena’s breath rushed out of her. Of course; she had almost forgotten. This was the first time Bonnie had shown her Power. She’d seen the future in Elena’s palm. Slowly, Elena flattened out her hand, opening it to Bonnie’s gaze.

“Laugh while you can,” Bonnie said serenely, peering into Elena’s palm. “My cousin told me I’m psychic.”

There was something Elena had said then, the first time this happened, but she couldn’t remember exactly what. It didn’t matter anyway. What had mattered here was what Bonnie had seen in her hand: Stefan.

“Okay,” Bonnie said, frowning as she traced the lines on Elena’s palm with one finger. “Now, this is your life line—or is it your heart line?” In the crowd around them, someone snickered. “Quiet. I’m reaching into the void. I see … I see …” Bonnie frowned. “I don’t get this. It says you have two loves, Elena.”

Elena’s chest tightened. This wasn’t right.

Bonnie touched one end of the line running across the center of Elena’s palm. The line forked there, splitting into two lines wrapping around the side of Elena’s hand. “See? Your heart line divides into two.”

“Greedy,” Caroline said, not quite jokingly.

Elena blinked, bewildered. Bonnie should have started talking about Stefan. She was supposed to say he was dark and handsome, and he had been tall once. But instead Bonnie must be seeing something of what had happened in the time after this, the truths of Elena herself, the one who didn’t belong here.

“I can see the two loves,” Bonnie went on. “But there’s something else here. …” Her eyes widened, and, with a quick, sudden movement, she dropped Elena’s hand as if it had burned her.

“What’s wrong?” Elena asked, suddenly frightened. She reached out to her, but Bonnie backed away, tucking her own hands behind her back.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Palm reading’s silly anyway.”

Elena was having trouble catching her breath. Bonnie’s Power was incredibly strong, although in this time she didn’t know how to use it. If there was something in Elena’s future that frightened Bonnie this badly, then Elena should be frightened, too. “Bonnie?” Elena asked anxiously, reaching toward her again. “Tell me.”

There was something panicked in the smaller girl’s face, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s a dumb game.”

Unsure of what to do, Elena wavered. She couldn’t make Bonnie tell her anything. But if what Bonnie saw in her palm had changed, maybe it was a clue to how her plan was going to work, how things would turn out differently. It might be important.

But maybe it was just showing all the awful things that had already happened to Elena after this moment—the future that hadn’t yet appeared for Elena of the past. The future she was going to change.

Elena swallowed hard. That was it, it must be, she reassured herself. Bonnie was seeing things she didn’t understand, frightening things. But it wasn’t Elena’s future, not now.

“We should head into class,” Meredith said, sounding slightly irritated as she glanced at her watch.

They were turning toward the school building when the roar of a finely tuned motor stopped them in their tracks. The group of girls swung around to look.

“Well, now,” Caroline said, her green eyes speculative. “Quite a car.”

“Quite a Porsche,” Meredith corrected dryly.

Elena didn’t look; she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the brick façade of the school. But she could hear it, the purring of the sleek black Porsche’s engine as its driver searched for a spot, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

A new student had arrived, one she’d been waiting for despite herself.

Stefan.

Chapter 6

Elena’s heart clenched. She had to look. She couldn’t help herself.

Talking to Stefan, touching Stefan, wasn’t an option. But she was going to take this chance to at least see him, a chance she had thought would never come again.

The purr of the engine died, and she heard the car door open before she glanced up.

“Oh my God,” Caroline whispered.

“You can say that again,” breathed Bonnie.

Oh, Stefan.

He was alive. He was here. He looked just as he had that last night they’d been together. Elena wanted to run to him and wrap herself around his lean body, run her fingers through his wavy dark hair, kiss the sad curve of his mouth. Sunglasses shielded his face like a mask, but Elena knew Stefan well enough to see through the protection they provided. She could sense the misery that had driven him to enroll in school, had made him try to act like a teenage boy so that he could have some brief human contact.

Everything in her pulled toward him. But if she ran to him, everything would lead straight to where she had come from. Stefan dead, Elena dying, Damon broken.

Elena bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, and stayed where she was.

“Who is that masked man?” Meredith asked, and everyone giggled.

“Do you see that jacket?” one of the hangers-on asked. “That’s Italian, as in Roma.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been farther than Rome, New York, in your life!” her friend answered.

Stefan was heading toward the school, a few rows of cars between him and the group of girls. The rhythm of his steps hitched and paused for just a moment. Elena felt a jolt. He had caught sight of her, she knew. There was a moment when he just stared from behind his sunglasses, his gaze burning into Elena. What was he seeing, she wondered? Her uncanny resemblance to Katherine, certainly, but Elena couldn’t help hoping there was more to it than that. Even this early, could Stefan sense something more in her than the looks of his lost love?

After a moment, Stefan began to walk again, continuing smoothly on. Elena stared after him, feeling raw and exposed.

“Uh-oh,” another hanger-on said, a touch of envy in her voice. “Elena’s got that look again. The hunting look.”

“New Boy had better be careful.”

Elena pulled herself together and slapped on an expression of disdain. Tossing her head, she began to walk toward the school. “Hardly,” she said. “I’ve got big plans for this year. And they don’t include some random boy, no matter how nice his car is.”

The other girls crowded behind her in a close-knit pack.

“What kind of plans?”

“Surely you can fit in Mr. Cute-Dark-and-Mysterious.”

Without replying, Elena led them through the front door of the school. A long corridor stretched before them, and Stefan’s lean figure was disappearing through the office doorway just ahead. Some of the other girls were already drifting toward the office window, eagerly craning their necks. “Nice rear view,” someone said, giggling. Caroline was with them, but she wasn’t looking through the window at Stefan. Instead, she was watching Elena speculatively.

Deliberately, Elena avoided her gaze. “Do you have my schedule?” she asked Meredith.

“Sure,” Meredith said after a pause, handing it to her. Elena remembered that her friend had picked it up for her when Elena had skipped orientation. “We’ve got trig on the second floor in five minutes.”

A few of the girls who had been watching Stefan had turned away from the windows now, discouraged by Elena’s lack of interest. Good, Elena thought. She couldn’t have him, she knew, but somehow she didn’t want anyone else going after him.

“Let’s go,” she said to Meredith.

Meredith and Bonnie exchanged a look, and Meredith followed Elena upstairs. Just as they reached the classroom, Meredith laid a cool hand on Elena’s arm, stopping her.

“Did something happen in France?” she asked quietly.

Elena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Meredith said slowly, her calm gray eyes scanning over Elena. “You just seem different, that’s all. Distracted.”

A semi-hysterical giggle rose up in Elena’s chest—Well, you see, Meredith, I’ve been sent back from the future to stop one of the vampires I’m in love with from killing someone, or I’ll die—and she choked it back and smiled at Meredith instead. “I’m fine.”

All through trig, Elena shut out the teacher’s droning voice, taking the textbook that was handed to her without glancing at it. She knew for a fact that she was never again going to use trigonometry. Tapping her fingers idly against her desk, she tried to plan instead.

She needed to meet Damon. But how? The first time they’d met, it had been partly because she looked like Katherine, but mostly because she was with Stefan, and the Damon she’d met then would be damned if he let his baby brother have her. But she couldn’t wrap herself around Stefan and wait for Damon to come.

If Damon accepted that he was the one she wanted, if she could get him to love her now the way he would in the future, she could keep him from killing anyone. He wouldn’t be so angry. He wouldn’t be ready to strike out.

“Can anyone tell me what the sine function is?” the teacher asked, breaking in on Elena’s thoughts. Mrs. Halpern’s eyes swept over the class, and Elena instinctively hunched a little, avoiding the teacher’s gaze.

Meredith began to answer the question. She was so beautiful, Elena thought, with her olive skin and heavy black lashes. More than that, Meredith looked happy. And human.

She’d had troubles in her life at this point already, Elena knew. A vampire had attacked her grandfather, stolen her brother. But this confident high school Meredith was barely aware of the horrors in her family’s past. She was already moving on.

Here, in this classroom, Elena could see exactly how miserable Meredith was in the future Elena had come from. Elena had known, of course, that Meredith hated being a vampire. But Elena hadn’t seen this contentment in years.

Elena sighed and thoughtfully curled a long, silky strand of hair around her finger. Could she fix Meredith, too, if she could keep Damon from killing Mr. Tanner? The road that had led to Meredith’s transformation was a long and twisting one, but it had started here. If Meredith was kept clear of the supernatural, if she never suspected the dangers beginning to descend on Fell’s Church, maybe she would leave. Go to an Ivy League college as she’d planned, have a successful, human life.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Stefan was in none of her early classes, thank God, although she knew she’d see him in history that afternoon. She couldn’t stop herself from looking for him in the halls. She didn’t see him, but she had a constant, exultant awareness that he was here—and alive.

She tried to make plans, but she was constantly distracted. Everyone wanted Elena’s attention: Boys flirted with her; girls curried her favor with scraps of gossip. She had forgotten what it was like to be the queen of school. Matt was in one of her morning classes, and she met his smile with quiet panic. She didn’t know what to do with Matt yet. Her friend was going to have to get his heart broken … again.

By lunchtime, she was sick of acting like she cared about the popularity, and she slipped down toward the cafeteria alone. Caroline was outside, posed casually against a wall in a model’s slouch. The two boys she was talking to nudged each other as Elena came toward them.

Elena wanted to just walk on by. She remembered this, too, and all the awful things Caroline had done later. She had plotted to destroy Elena, for no reason, out of jealousy and pure spite.

But Caroline’s chin was tilted up, and her eyes staring deliberately past Elena, as if the other girl was beneath her notice. Every line of her body broadcast pure hostility. Her hatred would only increase. If Elena didn’t deal with her now, it was bound to be worse later.

“Hi,” Elena said briefly to the boys. To Caroline she asked, “Want to get lunch?”

Caroline barely glanced at Elena as she pushed her glossy auburn hair back. “What, at the royal table?” she asked scathingly.

Elena suppressed an urge to roll her eyes and instead forced a smile. “Please come,” she said gently. “I want to hear about your summer. I missed you.” It was true, sort of. She’d known Caroline since kindergarten; they’d been good friends until this moment. Maybe she could change things here, too. Maybe this was a chance to fix everything she regretted.

Elena kept going into the cafeteria, not giving Caroline a chance to snap back an answer. Caroline followed but, a few steps in, her fingers fastened hard on Elena’s arm. “A lot of things changed while you were gone this summer, Elena,” she hissed warningly. “And just maybe your time on the throne is running out.”

“You’d make a better queen than I do. Take it,” Elena said agreeably, scanning the crowd as Caroline stood dumfounded. “Are you getting hot lunch?” It was a relief to see Meredith and Bonnie already sitting at their table. Caroline, temporarily silenced, followed as Elena got her lunch and went to join them.

“That new boy is in my biology class,” Bonnie announced. “I sit right across from him. And his name is Stefan—Stefan Salvatore—and he’s from Italy. He’s boarding with old Mrs. Flowers on the edge of town. He picked up your books when you dropped them, didn’t he, Caroline? Did he say anything?”

“Not much,” said Caroline shortly. She was still watching Elena from the corner of her eyes, her forehead slightly creased.

“There he is,” Meredith said, looking across the lunchroom.

Elena’s head shot up. There Stefan was, hesitating at the door of the cafeteria, and then crossing it with long, smooth strides, heading for the hall that led toward the other side of the school. He wouldn’t eat, of course. He had probably fed on the blood of a bird or small animal before school.

Stefan glanced toward their table, and Elena felt his eyes slide over her as viscerally as if he’d touched her. And then he passed by, his jaw tight. Elena swallowed and looked away.

Caroline was still watching him. She had the slightest hint of a smirk on her lovely face.

Caroline wanted Stefan, Elena knew. A few days after this, they’d started hanging out during lunch, had gone to Homecoming together. And then Elena and Stefan had come together, and he’d forgotten Caroline completely. No wonder she’d hated Elena more and more.

On an impulse, Elena nudged her. “You should talk to him,” she said.

It was the last thing she wanted, really. But Caroline’s fury over Elena taking Stefan had led to so much horror. And if Stefan was out of the way, in Caroline’s orbit, it would be easier for Elena to focus on Damon.

Besides, Stefan would never love Caroline. He’d be perfectly safe with her.

Caroline flicked a glance at Elena. “Who says I want to talk to him?” she said cooly.

But a moment later, Caroline was staring at the door Stefan had gone through. Elena took a long drink of her water. She’d set something in motion.

It might be necessary, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Chapter 7

“Aunt Judith wants me home right after school today,” Elena lied. “I have to hear all about Margaret’s first day of nursery school, I guess.” She was leaning against her locker, Matt looking down at her with his honest blue eyes. They ignored the people streaming past, all eager to get home now that the first day was over.

“I can give you a ride home at least,” Matt said, reaching for her hand.

“That’s okay, I want to walk,” Elena said, gently disentangling her fingers from his. “I’ve got some thinking to do. And you’ve got to get ready for practice, don’t you?” She kissed him gently on the cheek, like a sister might instead of a girlfriend, and walked away.

Matt didn’t object, but Elena could feel his puzzled gaze following her all the way down the hall toward the school doors.

Poor Matt, she thought, sighing. They’d been good friends for so long. Junior year, she’d hoped that he was the boy for her. The one who could be more to her than a trophy or an accessory. And he had been in so many ways—but she hadn’t been in love with him, and she hadn’t been able to see then how much he loved her.

It had taken Matt a long time to get over her the first time. Maybe that was something else she could fix while she was back here, Elena thought, resisting the urge to turn around and look at him again. If she handled their breakup better …

She pushed through the front doors of the school and set off. Crossing the parking lot, she tilted her face up toward the warmth of the late afternoon sun and hesitated for a moment.

Her biggest problem right now was how to approach Damon in the right way. If she was going to get him to fall in love with her before Halloween, she had better get started.

Tucking a stray hair back behind her ear, Elena turned down the sidewalk toward home and began to go over her first memories of him, ignoring the chatter of the other students leaving school all around her. He’d come to her in the school gymnasium once, while she and her friends were planning the Haunted House, but that was after she knew Stefan. She didn’t know if Damon would have come after her at school if not for Stefan. It wasn’t really Damon’s kind of place.

She’d met him at Alaric’s house at the party Alaric had thrown looking for evidence of vampires. But Alaric wasn’t here, wouldn’t be here if she accomplished her mission, because he had come after Mr. Tanner was murdered.

She’d sat through history class today, watched as Mr. Tanner mocked Bonnie for her lack of knowledge of history, as Stefan cooly put him in his place. She was struck by how young Mr. Tanner was—about the same age as Elena and her friends were in her real present. He was inexperienced and desperate to keep the attention and respect of a class of kids only a few years younger than he was. But despite all that, he’d known a lot about the Renaissance and spoken well about it. Maybe in a few years, he’d be a good teacher. If he lived.

With renewed purpose, Elena walked faster, thinking hard. Damon had come to Bonnie’s house. But that was when he was looking for Elena, after she’d already gotten his attention.

A caw came overhead. Elena stopped short and craned her head back to catch a glimpse of a fat black crow in the maple tree overhead. It wasn’t Damon, she saw immediately. This bird was plumper, smaller. Probably just a bird, she told herself as it cawed again and then spread its wings and flew off, low, past the house behind her.

But the sight prompted the memory of a dark shape winging its way up from the oak trees at the edge of the cemetery, when she had gone there to visit her parents, before she had known Damon. He’d been keeping an eye on her, hadn’t he?

Elena stopped dead. The cemetery.

The horrors of her senior year hadn’t begun with Mr. Tanner’s death on Halloween. They’d begun today—when Stefan had fed from an old vagrant sheltering under Wickery Bridge. And it had happened because Stefan had watched Elena in the cemetery, then been caught by a wave of angry Power, leaving him dazed and ravenous.

Katherine’s Power, which she had unleashed after witnessing Stefan’s interest in Elena, driving Elena out of the churchyard.

The man hadn’t died, but his injuries had been the first sign to the people of Fell’s Church that danger lurked in their idyllic little town.

Hesitantly, Elena took a few steps toward home. If she didn’t go to her parents’ graves, the attack wouldn’t happen. The old man would be fine, the townwide panic wouldn’t begin.

And yet … Elena stopped again and rocked back on her heels, thinking.

She hadn’t been talking to Stefan, hadn’t shown any interest in him this time. He wouldn’t be following her, would he? And the graveyard would be a good place to try to find Damon. That was the most important thing.

A cloud passed over the sun, and Elena felt a little colder, a little sadder. It had been a long time since she had visited her parents. Now that she lived a few hours away, she hardly ever made it back to Fell’s Church. She could see them now, she thought longingly. The cemetery would be isolated and peaceful after her long day. She could be alone there, and Damon would be more likely to come to her when she was alone. Making up her mind, Elena hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders, and headed toward the cemetery, her steps sounding loud and firm in her own ears.

It was a fairly long walk, almost to the edge of town. Coming close to Wickery Bridge, another rusty caw grabbed her attention. Wings spread wide, the huge crow glided to land on the bridge’s parapet. Turning its head, it fixed one bright eye on Elena. It seemed to be waiting.

Elena smiled. Challenge accepted, Damon.

She had expected to be a little shaky crossing Wickery Bridge, the place where Katherine had pursued her, and Elena had driven off this bridge and drowned. She could still remember the horrible rending sound as the hood of Matt’s car had smashed through the old bridge’s side. She could almost feel how icy-cold the water had been as she struggled.

But with Damon here, she could be brave.

“Hello, bird,” she said casually. The crow stayed very still, its shining dark gaze fixed on Elena. She glanced up at the blue sky, and back at the crow. Then, slowly and deliberately, holding the crow’s gaze, Elena smiled, a smile full of secrets. And then she walked on, straight past him, her head high. The bird watched as she passed.

As she entered the cemetery, Elena’s gaze fell on the ruined church, and she felt a tremor of foreboding deep inside her. Katherine was down there in the dark passages of the crypts already, watching them all.

At the thought of Katherine, Elena’s hands automatically clenched into fists, anxiety running through her. Katherine had been furious when Stefan and Elena had fallen in love, and had attacked them both, had gone after the whole town. It had been the beginning of everything terrible.

Elena’s fingernails bit into her palms. How would Katherine feel when Elena went after Damon? Katherine considered both the Salvatores her property, Elena knew, but she had always thought the vampire girl was more possessive of Stefan. She’d even offered to let him live, if he left Damon and Elena to die. But Elena couldn’t let herself forget that Katherine was a threat, whichever Salvatore brother Elena pursued.

Crossing past the old church, Elena lifted her chin defiantly. She’d have to solve the Katherine problem when she got to it.

Reaching the newer, well-kept part of the cemetery, Elena rested a hand on the big marble headstone with GILBERT carved into the front.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it’s been such a long time.”

She missed them so much, not as sharply or painfully as when she’d been in high school the first time, but with a powerfully wistful longing. If her beautiful, artistic mother had lived, she could have guided Elena through those first rocky days of being an Earthly Guardian. If her funny, warm father had been there, she could have leaned on him through all the hard times. They would have liked Stefan, she thought, and they would have seen how Damon’s stubborn, fiery nature complemented Elena’s own.

She wished that she could have gone even further back, that the Guardians had sent her back to Fell’s Church when she was twelve. She could have saved her parents. She could have kept them out of the car that terrible day that had ended their lives and changed hers and Margaret’s forever.

With a powerful rush of longing, Elena remembered her mother laughing as she chased her through the house when Elena had been very small, catching her and sweeping her up into her arms for a hug.

“I still miss you,” she whispered, brushing her hand across her parents’ names.

A sudden wind caught her hair, whipping it across her face. Looking up, Elena saw the tops of the oak trees at the edge of the cemetery tossing violently. Dark clouds were massing above her, and there was a sharp chill in the air. She shivered.

The sky grew darker still. This wasn’t a natural storm, surely. It had been clear and sunny only a moment before.

Damon? He could change the weather when he wanted to. Or Katherine? She was far more powerful than Damon right now.

Elena shuddered. If it was Katherine, she might kill Elena without even thinking about it. She remembered how easily Katherine had torn Damon’s chest apart with her long talonlike nails, as her fangs ripped through his throat. There had been so much blood.

Elena steeled herself. Running wouldn’t make any difference; she knew that this time. She’d tried that, and Katherine had caught up with her eventually. Again, she remembered the cold of the water under Wickery Bridge and shivered.

“I’m not afraid,” she said stubbornly. “Whatever’s out there, I’m ready for you.”

The wind stopped. Everything grew still, the leaves hanging motionless from the trees. All around Elena was silence, without even the chirp of a bird or the sound of a car in the distance.

Something stirred in the shadows under the oak trees. Elena squinted, trying to see. A dark figure moved toward her. The dim sunlight caught pale skin and sleek, night-dark hair. Black boots, black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket. An arrogant lift to his chin, as if he’d seen everything in the world and didn’t think much of it. Damon.

Thunder crashed overhead and Elena, despite herself, jumped.

“Nervous?” Damon was smiling faintly, his dark eyes amused. He was so beautiful, she thought absently. That was always true, always had been true. Sculpted cheekbones and clean, fine features. But there was something unfamiliar in that smile. There was none of the affection, none of the tenderness she was used to.

Elena reached for the bond between them automatically, wanting to check on Damon’s thoughts and emotions, and to reaffirm their constant connection. But there was nothing. The Guardian’s bond didn’t exist here.

Damon moved closer, his eyes fixed on her face. “There’s a storm coming,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if he was telling her a secret. The thunder grumbled again. “A bad day for a walk.”

Elena felt her own smile rise to meet his challenging one. “I’m not afraid of a little rain,” she said.

“No, I imagine you’re not afraid of much.” Damon lifted a hand to brush Elena’s cheek, tracing a finger lightly down her throat. He was far too close, and something twisted uneasily inside Elena.

This was Damon. She had no reason to fear him. Damon loved her.

Only … not this Damon. Not yet. This Damon was a hunter, and he was looking at Elena as if she were prey. Despite herself, she stepped backward.

His eyes narrowed and his smile spread. Elena jutted her chin out stubbornly. She was not going to flinch away from Damon. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Someone could be watching you,” Damon went on, moving closer still. “A young girl, alone in a graveyard, when night is beginning to fall.” His voice was soothing, hypnotic almost, and he moved toward her once more, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin.

Elena’s chest ached. This wasn’t her Damon, this Damon with the cruel set to his mouth and the malicious gleam in his eyes. He was dangerous, even to her.

But, after all, he was Damon, wasn’t he? He didn’t know her, not yet, but Elena knew him, inside and out. She felt a smile blossoming on her own face and her shoulders, which had lifted as if she was expecting a blow, dropped.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Damon frowned and took a step back away from her. He hesitated for a split second, then opened his mouth to speak.

“Elena?” Startled, Elena turned to see Bonnie and Meredith approaching from the other end of the graveyard. “Elena?” Bonnie called again.

A light breeze broke the stillness of the air, lifting Elena’s hair. The sun came out from behind the dark clouds, and a mockingbird sang an insistent trill from a nearby tree. A cool finger brushed across the nape of Elena’s neck. She gasped and whipped back around, but Damon was gone. The green grass over the graves behind her was as smooth and empty as if he had never been there.

“Elena,” Bonnie said as they reached Elena, “sometimes I worry about you. I really do.”

“Was somebody here?” Meredith said, confusion on her face. “I thought …” Had Damon Influenced them to forget him? Elena wondered. Or had he simply moved so quickly they weren’t sure what they had seen?

“It’s just me,” Elena said slowly, her eyes still searching the graveyard. There were no dark figures among the trees. No black bird rose toward the sky. “I didn’t expect you guys to follow me.”

“You can tell us to go away,” Meredith suggested, glancing at the gray stone above Elena’s parents’ graves.

Elena shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said. “I wanted to hang out with you guys anyway.” She sat down in the sun-warmed grass beside the headstone, pulling the others down next to her. The three girls sat quietly for a while, watching the soft white clouds blow across the sky.

Bonnie ran her fingers through Elena’s ponytail, taking the ribbon out and twining it into little braids. The gentle pulls on her hair felt good, and Elena relaxed, leaning back against her friend’s leg.

“So,” Bonnie started, her hands not pausing in their braiding, “are you going to tell us why you’ve been acting so funny today?”

Elena opened her mouth, a denial springing to her lips, and caught Meredith’s knowing gaze.

“I know I said you seemed distracted this morning,” Meredith told her, “but it’s more than that.”

“You’ve been getting the strangest look on your face when you look at people, even us,” Bonnie said thoughtfully, tucking a stray piece of hair into one of Elena’s braids. “Like we’re strangers.”

Elena turned at that, her hair slipping through Bonnie’s fingers, and looked at her friend. Bonnie stared back at her, brown eyes wide and a little hurt.

“It’s not like that.” Elena said. But it did feel, a little bit, like they were different people from the ones she knew. Bonnie and Meredith had been through so much with her—they’d even traveled to a different dimension together—but not yet, not this Bonnie and Meredith.

If Elena managed to change what happened now, if she could keep Damon from killing Mr. Tanner and setting the future she already knew in motion, would her friendship with Bonnie and Meredith change, too? She ached with sorrow at the idea.

“If something’s wrong, we want to help,” Meredith said softly.

Warmth ran through Elena, soothing away that sorrowful ache, and she reached for her friends’ hands. “I’m fine,” she said, gripping Bonnie’s square, small hand and Meredith’s long cool one. “Only … everything’s changing, isn’t it? It’s our senior year, our last year together.”

“Nothing’s going to change,” Bonnie said uncomfortably. “Nothing important. Just school and stuff.”

“Elena’s right,” Meredith said, turning her hand to thread her fingers through Elena’s. “Next year at this time, who knows where we’ll all be?”

“You’ve both been such good friends to me,” Elena said in a rush. “When my parents died … I couldn’t have gotten through that bad time without you. I don’t want to lose you guys, not ever.”

Bonnie sniffed and pulled away from Elena to wipe at her eyes. “Don’t make me cry,” she said, half laughing. “My mascara will run, and then I’ll look like a raccoon.”

“Let’s swear an oath.” Elena said determinedly. “An oath that we’ll always be true friends.”

They’d sworn a blood oath in this graveyard the first time she’d lived this. Bonnie and Meredith had sworn that they would do anything Elena asked in relation to Stefan. And Elena had sworn not to rest until Stefan belonged to her. Not even if it killed her.

And, well, it had killed her in the end, hadn’t it? It had killed both of them. An oath like that—sworn in blood in a graveyard—had true Power.

“Wait a minute,” Meredith said, as Elena had known she would. She let go of Elena’s hand and unfastened a pin from her blouse, then jabbed it quickly into her thumb. “Bonnie, give me your hand.”

“Why?” Bonnie asked, frowning suspiciously at the pin.

“Because I want to marry you,” Meredith said sarcastically, and Elena smiled a little. “Why do you think?”

“But—but—Oh, all right. Ow!”

“Now you, Elena.” Meredith hesitated and then jabbed at Elena’s finger, their eyes meeting for a moment. She held out her own thumb, a plump drop of blood swelling on its pad, and Bonnie and Elena pressed their thumbs against hers. Bonnie’s eyes were still shining with tears and Meredith looked pale and earnest. Affection for them both swelled inside Elena. These were her sisters.

“I swear that I’ll always be there for both of you,” Meredith said steadily. “I’ll be on your side and do everything I can for you, no matter what happens.”

“No matter what,” Bonnie said, closing her eyes. “I swear.”

Elena, pressing her thumb hard against the other girls’, ignoring the twinge of pain, said softly, “I swear, I will always be there for you, no matter what.” She felt breathless and expectant. This was sacred.

A gust of cold wind blew through the cemetery, lifting the girls’ hair, and sending a flurry of dry leaves across the ground. Bonnie gasped and pulled back, and they all giggled. A flush of satisfaction filled Elena. Whatever happened, however the world changed now, at least she knew she’d have Bonnie and Meredith.

Chapter 8

Elena rested her head in her hands, staring down at the scratched surface of her desk as her classmates settled into their seats for trigonometry class. Ignoring their chatter, she went back over her meeting with Damon in the graveyard the day before. Was there something she should have done differently?

She knew she’d intrigued him. She had seen his pupils widen when he leaned in toward her, his eyes curious and hungry. She’d half expected him to appear at her window that night. But he hadn’t.

Although … that morning she’d heard the caw of a crow and whipped around just too late to see the bird. All the way to school, she’d had the disquieting feeling that she was being watched.

Halloween was coming. The night Damon had killed Mr. Tanner. Shifting uneasily in her seat, Elena remembered how Mr. Tanner’s head had flopped lifelessly backward against the altar in the Halloween house of horrors. His throat had been caked with blood. Elena squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to block out the memories.

Damon had been at the Haunted House that night, and seeing Elena and Stefan together filled him with jealousy and seething resentment. He had lashed out by feeding on Mr. Tanner when Mr. Tanner stuck a dagger into him. Damon had killed him out of surprised rage and pain.

According to Mylea, that was when Damon’s fate had been sealed. If Elena didn’t manage to change what happened, she would die. Stefan would die. And Elena couldn’t imagine the Guardians would let Damon live, not without Elena to rein him in. They would all be doomed.

So far, she’d successfully avoided Stefan. In history class she tried to close her mind off, scowling with concentration as she chanted multiplication tables or dialogue from old movies in her mind—anything to drown out whatever part of her might call to Stefan. He didn’t try to talk to her, either. She’d had to pursue him last time; he hadn’t wanted to be reminded of Katherine, hadn’t wanted to connect with her.

But Elena could feel him watching her in the halls, as clearly as she could feel Damon watching her on the streets. The other day, she’d glanced at Stefan in class without meaning to and seen his green eyes fixed on her. His gaze had been soft and longing, hungry. She wanted to comfort him, but Elena already knew how that would end.

The speaker set high on the classroom wall crackled, jolting Elena out of her thoughts. She half listened to the morning announcements, snapping to attention as the vice principal’s voice said, “Senior Homecoming Court nominations have been tallied. This year’s nominees for Homecoming Queen are Sue Carson, Caroline Forbes, Elena Gilbert, Bonnie McCullough, and Meredith Sulez. Voting will take place in the cafeteria over the next week. Congratulations to all the nominees.”

Elena gripped the edge of her desk, a sudden panic running through her. No. No way.

Homecoming had been when it all began. A dizzying whirl of images rose up in Elena’s mind’s eye. Herself, determined that Stefan wouldn’t turn her down. Leaving the dance in Tyler Smallwood’s convertible, the taste of whiskey sharp in her mouth, her hair blowing wildly in the wind as they sped down the highway. The lid of the tomb in the ruined church shifting under her hand. The ripping sound as Tyler tore her dress.

Stefan saving her, taking her in his arms. Her whole world changing.

She couldn’t let it happen again.

“Congratulations, girls,” Mrs. Halpern said to Meredith and Elena as the speaker clicked off. “There’s a meeting for all the Homecoming Court nominees with the faculty sponsors in the office third period.”

Elena raised her hand. “Mrs. Halpern,” she said. “I don’t want to be on the Homecoming Court. Is there something I have to do to drop out of the race?” She heard Meredith’s gasp of surprise behind her.

There was a moment of utter silence as everyone contemplated the thought. Elena Gilbert, queen of the school, refusing to compete? She was sure to win, they all knew that.

“Uh, no,” Mrs. Halpern said, her forehead crinkled in a puzzled frown. “If you’re sure, Elena, I can just let the sponsors know.” At Elena’s nod, she made a note on her clipboard.

Ignoring the whispers around her, Elena waited out the rest of the period. When the bell rang, she pretended not to see Meredith striding toward her and slipped out the door alone. She would have to figure out some kind of explanation to give Bonnie and Meredith.

Outside, Matt was waiting, a smile stretching across his handsome, all-American face. “Congratulations,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her easily, just a sweet press of his lips. “You’re a shoo-in for Queen. Tell me what color dress you’re wearing, and I’ll make sure to get the right kind of corsage.” Despite his words, there was a wary look in his eyes, as if he was bracing himself for a blow.

“Oh, Matt,” Elena said, feeling stricken. She’d been avoiding him, avoiding this moment, and of course he’d noticed.

Whatever happened, her relationship with Matt was over, and she couldn’t keep him hanging on. She needed to let him go, kindly, before she went after Damon.

The smile slipped off Matt’s face, and he bowed his head. “I’m guessing you’ve got something to tell me, huh?”

Elena pulled him aside into a little alcove past the lockers, ignoring the curious looks of students passing by. It wasn’t nice—it wasn’t fair—to spring this on him here, right in the middle of the school day, but she couldn’t string Matt along any longer.

“I do love you,” she said in a fierce whisper, when they were as private as they could be. “I do.”

Matt flinched a little and then gave Elena a smile that was almost a grimace. “I guess that’s why you’re dumping me, huh? Because I’m just that loveable. I should have realized before.” His voice was hoarse and, spontaneously, Elena wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face against the rough fabric of his letterman’s jacket.

Unbidden tears rose in her eyes. “Oh, Matt,” she said, muffled against his shoulder. “You’re my friend. My true friend. Don’t love me like this anymore.”

Matt sighed and stroked the back of Elena’s head, running his strong fingers through her hair. “It’s not that easy, Elena. I can’t just stop how I feel. But I won’t try to hold onto you, not if you don’t want me to.”

When she lifted her head to look at him, there was devastation on his face, beneath the steady eyes and the crooked grin. How had she not seen this the first time? She barely remembered this conversation. It had just been a means to an end: getting Matt squared away so that she had an open field to go after Stefan.

A curl of self-disgust twisted inside Elena, and she lowered her head again, wiping her eyes against Matt’s shoulder. She’d gone through this part of her life with blinders on. And poor Matt, once he’d gotten over her, his next girlfriend had become a vampire and finally killed herself. All the craziness here—Fell’s Church, Dalcrest, all along the ley lines—had ruined so much of Matt’s life.

When she pulled back from their hug, Matt was staring at her, his forehead creased with concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Elena bit her lip to keep back a hysterical giggle. If she kept up with these mood swings, remembering the future that might not come, everyone was going to think she was having a nervous breakdown. “Listen, Matt,” she said, “we’re good friends, we really are. I love you so much. But there’s nothing for you here. As soon as we’re out of school, you should go. Take a football scholarship. You’re bound to get one.”

He had been offered one, hadn’t he? A good one, at some big football school. And he’d turned it down. He’d come to Dalcrest to help them protect the innocent.

Elena thought of Jasmine, with her easy smile and soft eyes, her fiercely loyal heart. “You’ll meet the right person for you someday,” she told him, trying to make him believe. “She’ll be smart and kind, and it’ll be so much better than we could have been together.”

The smile was gone from Matt’s face. “You’re the only person I want to be with,” he said flatly. His eyes narrowed. “Does this have anything to do with the new guy? He’s always watching you.”

“Stefan?” Matt had always seen more than she’d given him credit for. Elena met his gaze squarely. “I don’t want to date Stefan Salvatore,” she said honestly, and after a moment, Matt nodded, his shoulders slumping.

“I guess there doesn’t have to be someone else for you to break up with me,” he said. “You always know what you want, Elena. And what you don’t.”

“You’re one of my best friends,” Elena told him. “I just want the best for you.”

Matt shook his head, confused. “You’re different since you came back from France,” he said. Then the corners of his mouth tilted up in a small, sad smile. “Maybe the trip was good for you, too.”

“But if you broke up with Matt, who are you going to go to Homecoming with?” Bonnie asked after school, as they turned down the walk to Bonnie’s house. It was a warm afternoon, and Bonnie had invited Meredith and Elena over to hang out.

“I don’t know,” Elena said. “Does it matter?”

Meredith and Bonnie stared at her with identical expressions of shock.

“Does it—” Bonnie echoed incredulously.

“Elena, is there something wrong with you?” Meredith interrupted. “You’re really not acting like yourself.”

Feeling defensive, Elena shrugged. “I guess I just don’t think Homecoming is all that important.”

“That’s what she means when she says you’re not acting like yourself,” Bonnie said tartly, opening the front door.

Yangtze, Bonnie’s family’s fat, elderly Pekingese, greeted them with shrill, yapping barks, trying to wiggle his chubby body out through the open door. Bonnie pushed him back, and he growled and snapped at Elena’s ankle as she went by.

Katherine had killed Yangtze, Elena remembered. Bonnie’s mother had cried off and on for days. The dog was so spoiled, she was the only one who could stand him. But there had been no sign of Katherine in the cemetery the other evening, no wild surge of Power to send the girls running screaming across Wickery Bridge. Maybe if Elena and Stefan didn’t fall in love, none of the terrible things from Elena’s first time around—not even Yangtze’s death—would happen.

Gingerly, Elena reached down and patted the dog’s back, earning another snarl. But wait, she thought, pulling back her hand. If Yangtze didn’t die, wouldn’t the world be different, in ways Elena couldn’t even predict? The dog was the smallest part of all this, but every piece of the world made a difference.

Something terrible might happen, Elena thought, suddenly cold with panic. What if Bonnie tripped over the dog’s small, round body on the stairs and fell, cracked her spine, and wound up in a wheelchair? What if the dog finally managed to push its way out, ran into the road, and caused a fatal car accident? Anything could happen. At the realization, all the breath went out of Elena’s body in a sudden gasp, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“What is it?” Meredith asked warily, but Elena just shook her head, her mind spinning. Anything could happen. The Guardian had told her that, but she hadn’t really thought about it. Elena was changing everyone’s lives, and what if she accidentally changed them for the worse? At least in Elena’s own reality, Bonnie, Meredith, and Matt were more or less safe.

Not Stefan, though. Stefan had died.

Not Elena, who was dying.

And not Damon. She was the last one he had left. For a long time, Stefan had been the only person in the world Damon gave a damn about. And then Elena had come, and their bond had tethered Damon to her, to humanity. And now, in her reality, Elena was dying and Damon was losing the last bit of that humanity he had left.

In the McCullough’s living room, Bonnie’s sister Mary was unpinning a nurse’s cap from her wavy red hair. “Hey girls,” she said, dropping her cap on the table. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes.

“Long shift?” Bonnie asked. Mary worked at the Fell’s Church clinic, which was always busy.

Mary sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “We got a pretty bad case in today,” she said. “You girls go down to the cemetery sometimes, don’t you? Down by the Wickery Bridge?”

“Well, sure,” Bonnie said slowly. This wasn’t something they talked about. “Elena’s parents …”

“That’s what I thought.” Mary took a deep breath. “Listen to me, Bonnie. Don’t ever, ever go out there again. Especially not alone or at night.”

“Why?” Bonnie asked, bewildered.

Elena’s stomach clenched. It shouldn’t have happened. Things had been different this time, down near Wickery Bridge.

“Last night somebody was attacked out there,” Mary said. “They found him right under Wickery Bridge.”

Meredith and Bonnie stared at her in disbelief, and Elena with a dull, wondering dread. Bonnie clutched Elena’s arm, her fingers pinching painfully tight. “Somebody was attacked under the bridge? Who? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Mary said, shaking her head. “This morning one of the cemetery workers spotted him lying there. He was some homeless person, I guess. He was probably sleeping under the bridge when he was attacked. But he was half-dead when they found him, and he’s still unconscious. He might die.”

Stefan. Elena felt weighed down by guilt. She had thought things had changed. Was Stefan following Elena in this reality, too? Had he been overcome with the need for blood and attacked the homeless man anyway?

Or was it Damon who had attacked the man under the bridge? Damon had been at the cemetery.

Maybe fate wasn’t changeable after all, Elena thought, chilled. Maybe the man had been destined to be terribly hurt that night at the bridge, no matter what.

If so, perhaps her mission was doomed to failure. Maybe she and Stefan and Damon would continue on the same path, no matter how she tried to alter things. It was possible, wasn’t it, that all roads would end with Stefan falling, a false friend’s stave in his heart, with Elena drifting to death in her big white bed? With Damon’s heart breaking, all his steps toward redemption lost?

“His throat was nearly ripped out,” Mary said grimly. “He lost an incredible amount of blood. They thought it might have been an animal at first, but now Dr. Lowen says it was a person. And the police think whoever did it may be hiding in the cemetery.” She looked at each of them, her mouth tight.

“You don’t have to scare us,” Bonnie said, her voice strained. “We get the point, Mary.”

“All right. Good.” Mary rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “I’ve got to lie down for a while. I didn’t mean to be crabby.” She left the living room, heading for the stairs.

“It could have been one of us.” Meredith said. She bit her lip. “Especially you, Elena. You went there alone.”

“No,” Elena said absently. “It would never have been one of us.” She barely noticed the way the other girls stared at her, shocked by the certainty in her voice.

Elena clenched her fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. It couldn’t all be inevitable. There was a way to save Mr. Tanner, a way to keep the town safe from all the havoc Katherine, Damon, and Stefan had, in their own separate ways, brought down upon it.

She had to find Damon, and soon. Halloween was coming fast, and she would need time with him if he was going to fall in love with her, if she was going to show him there were things more pleasurable than destruction.

Elena needed a plan.

Chapter 9

A chilly breeze swept through Elena’s hair, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The sun hadn’t set yet, but there was already a pale moon high in the sky, and dark shadows were spreading under the trees.

She’d really thought Damon would have come to her by now. Elena had made excuses to dodge Bonnie and Meredith after school, and headed out to the woods. She had to draw Damon to her again, needed to start building a connection between them. And here, isolated beneath the ancient oak trees, was just where he was likely to appear.

A bird crashed through the top of the tree above her, and Elena looked up with a burst of relief. But it was just a blue jay, not the sleek black crow she was waiting for.

Maybe she should give up on subtlety and just shout Damon’s name until he answered her. No, that would only make him suspicious.

If he was nearby, there was one thing that ought to draw him out. Blood.

Elena uncrossed her arms and looked around carefully. A rough gray boulder lay half-buried between two trees with twisted roots growing up around it. That might do. Steeling herself, Elena wandered toward it.

Her toe caught on a root, and Elena tipped forward, eyeing the sharp-edged rock. About right. Pretending to lose her balance, she threw herself onto the ground hard.

Her teeth clacked together as she hit the ground more violently than she’d meant to. There was a jolting, blinding pain in her knee. Her palms were stinging, scraped by tree roots. Winded, Elena lay gasping for a moment, fighting back tears of pain. She glanced down at her leg and was relieved to see a trickle of red blood. She didn’t want to have to try that again.

“Let me help you.” The voice, husky and a little unsure, was so familiar, so loved. But it was the wrong one.

Elena looked up to see Stefan Salvatore standing above her, his hand extended. His face was shadowed so that she couldn’t quite see his expression. Tentatively, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her gently to her feet.

Upright again, she winced a little, and Stefan quickly turned her hands palm-up, carefully brushing away dirt and bits of dry leaves. “Just a scrape,” he told her quietly.

“My leg,” she said, looking up into his face. Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard. He hadn’t changed. Of course he never changed; he was a vampire. Elena’s heart ached, and for one mad moment, she wanted to forget everything and throw herself into his arms and hold him tightly, weep with joy that he was alive.

“Let me see,” Stefan said, letting go of her hands. He didn’t look her in the eyes, but instead knelt in the dirt, pulling a white silk handkerchief from his pocket. Unfolding it, he tucked something small—Elena couldn’t see what it was—back into his pocket. Gently, he blotted at her knee and then tied the handkerchief around it as a makeshift bandage. “There, that should get you home.”

He rose, eyes still averted, and backed away. Impulsively, Elena stepped forward and took hold of his leather-jacketed arm. He was so close, so solid, and real. A warm flush of love and relief ran over her. “Thank you,” she said. “Stefan—”

Almost faster than her eyes could follow, Stefan pulled away from her, and stepped back, deeper into the shadows of the trees. “I—” he said and stopped, then began again. “You’re welcome. You should be careful, though, out here alone. Did you hear about the attack?”

“Yes, I did,” Elena said, moving closer to him again, her eyes searching the shadows, trying to make out his face.

“They’re saying whoever did it must have been a monster.” There was an ugly, harsh note in Stefan’s voice. Without the sunglasses, he looked vulnerable and terribly tired.

“I don’t believe it,” she said firmly.

For a moment, their eyes met. Elena could see a wild flicker of hope rise in Stefan’s and then disappear, leaving nothing but grim hopelessness. “Anyone who would do such a thing is a monster,” he said.

Elena was almost touching him now. She wanted to run her hands across the chiseled lines of his face, remind herself how smooth his skin was.

His gaze traced over the curve of her neck, she saw, and his lips parted a little. “You look—” he said. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

Katherine. Elena suppressed a grimace. The Stefan of this time was still guilt-stricken over the role he thought he’d played in Katherine’s death. She wanted to announce the truth: She’s not dead. Crazy and vicious, but not dead. It’s not your fault.

But she couldn’t. There was no way she could know that now, or at least no way she could explain. And so, Elena said nothing. Instead, she reached out a hand, slowly, carefully, as if she was taming some wild creature, and finally touched him. Just for a moment, her fingers brushing across the bare skin of his wrist.

She couldn’t have him. But this—a moment of touch—she needed.

It was like a circuit connecting. Warmth flooded through Elena’s body, and she wobbled for a moment, ready to fall into his arms. Stefan became utterly still, his eyes dilated and dark as he stared at her. She thought he was holding his breath. There was a moment when it seemed like time was suspended, like anything could happen.

And then, with an intense jolt of sorrow, Elena pulled away, letting her hand fall limply to her side.

“Here,” Stefan said abruptly, pulling something from his pocket with the sleeve of his shirt. His voice shook, and he was staring at his hands, refusing to meet Elena’s eye. He handed her what looked like a handful of scrappy, skinny weeds, a few with small pale flowers. “Keep these with you for good luck. You can even make herbal tea out of them.”

Elena accepted the flowers, recognizing them as vervain. If she kept it close, it would keep vampires from being able to cloud her mind. But Stefan didn’t know yet that Damon was in town, certainly didn’t know about Katherine. Who was he protecting her from? Then she got it.

Himself, of course. It was just like Stefan, to be thinking of himself as a danger while he did everything he could to protect her.

“Thank you,” she said, looking down at the wilting weeds as if they were the most precious thing she’d ever touched.

She stared up at him again, holding her gaze until, reluctantly, he let his eyes meet hers again. “Remember,” she said softly. “I don’t believe in monsters.”

Stefan’s face twisted, and he turned and walked away, disappearing into the gathering dusk.

Elena sighed and tucked the vervain into her pocket before heading home. She felt safe, despite the dark. Even if she couldn’t see him, Stefan would guard her carefully all the way home.