by L. J. Smith
This graveyard had been the beginning, and the end as well. And maybe there would be another end tonight.
Meredith started walking.
I wish you were here now, Alaric, she thought. I could use your optimism and your savvy about the supernatural—and I wouldn’t mind your muscles, either.
Elena’s headstone was in the new cemetery, of course, where the grass was still tended and the graves marked with wreaths of flowers. The stone was very simple, almost plain looking, with a brief inscription. Meredith bent down and placed her bouquet of roses in front of it. Then, slowly, she added the red-and-black tassel from her cap. In this dim light, both colors looked the same, like dried blood. She knelt and folded her hands quietly. And she waited.
All around her the cemetery was still. It seemed to be waiting with her, breath held in anticipation. The rows of white stones stretched on either side of her, shining faintly. Meredith listened for any sound.
And then she heard one. Heavy footsteps.
With her head down, she stayed quiet, pretending she noticed nothing.
The footsteps sounded closer, not even bothering to be stealthy.
“Hi, Meredith.”
Meredith looked around quickly. “Oh—Tyler,” she said. “You scared me. I thought you were—never mind.”
“Yeah?” Tyler’s lips skinned back in an unsettling grin. “Well, I’m sorry you’re disappointed. But it’s me, just me and nobody else.”
“What are you doing here, Tyler? No good parties?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Tyler’s eyes dropped to the headstone and the tassel and his face darkened. “But I guess I already know the answer. You’re here for her. Elena Gilbert, A Light in Darkness,” he read sarcastically.
“That’s right,” Meredith said evenly. “‘Elena’ means light, you know. And she was certainly surrounded by darkness. It almost beat her, but she won in the end.”
“Maybe,” Tyler said, and worked his jaw med-itatively, squinting. “But you know, Meredith, it’s a funny thing about darkness. There’s always more of it waiting in the wings.”
“Like tonight,” Meredith said, looking up at the sky. It was clear and dotted with faint stars. “It’s very dark tonight, Tyler. But sooner or later the sun will come up.”
“Yeah, but the moon comes up first.” Tyler chuckled suddenly, as if at some joke only he could see. “Hey, Meredith, you ever see the Smallwood family plot? Well, come on and I’ll show you. It’s not far.”
Just like he showed Elena, Meredith thought. In a way she was enjoying this verbal fencing, but she never lost sight of what she had come here for. Her cold fingers dipped into her jacket pocket and found the tiny sprig of vervain there. “That’s all right, Tyler. I think I’d prefer to stay here.”
“You sure about that? A cemetery’s a dangerous place to be alone.”
Unquiet spirits, Meredith thought. She looked right at him. “I know.”
He was grinning again, displaying teeth like tombstones. “Anyway, you can see it from here if you have good eyes. Look that way, toward the old graveyard. Now, do you see something sort of shining red in the middle?”
“No.” There was a pale luminosity over the trees in the east. Meredith kept her eyes on it.
“Aw, come on, Meredith. You’re not trying.
Once the moon’s up you’ll see it better.”
“Tyler, I can’t waste any more time here. I’m going.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. And then, as her fingers tightened on the vervain, encompassing it in her fist, he added in a wheedling voice, “I mean, you’re not going until I tell you the story of that headstone, are you? It’s a great story. See, the headstone is made of red marble, the only one of its kind in the whole graveyard. And that ball on top—see it?—that must weigh about a ton. But it moves. It turns whenever a Smallwood is going to die. My grandfather didn’t believe that; he put a scratch on it right down the front. He used to come out and check it every month or so. Then one day he came and found the scratch in the rear. The ball had turned completely backward. He did everything he could to turn it around, but he couldn’t. It was too heavy. And that night, in bed, he died. They buried him under it.”
“He probably had a heart attack from over-exertion,” Meredith said caustically, but her palms were tingling.
“You’re funny, aren’t you? Always so cool. Always so together. Takes a lot to make you scream, doesn’t it?”
“I’m leaving, Tyler. I’ve had enough.”
He let her walk a few paces, then said, “You screamed that night at Caroline’s, though, didn’t you?”
Meredith turned back. “How do you know that?”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Give me credit for a little intelligence, okay? I know a lot, Meredith. For instance, I know what’s in your pocket.”
Meredith’s fingers stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Vervain, Meredith. Verbena officinalis. I’ve got a friend who’s into these things.” Tyler was focused now, his smile growing, watching her face as if it were his favorite TV show. Like a cat tired of playing with a mouse, he was moving in. “And I know what it’s for, too.” He cast an exaggerated glance around and put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Vampires,” he whispered. Then he threw back his head and laughed loudly.
Meredith backed away a step.
“You think that’s going to help you, don’t you? But I’m going to tell you a secret.”
Meredith’s eyes measured the distance between herself and the path. She kept her face calm, but a violent shaking was beginning inside her. She didn’t know if she was going to be able to pull this off.
“You’re not going anywhere, babe,” Tyler said, and a large hand clasped Meredith’s wrist. It was hot and damp where she could feel it below her jacket cuff. “You’re going to stay right here for your surprise.” His body was hunched now, his head thrust forward, and there was an exultant leer on his lips.
“Let me go, Tyler. You’re hurting me!” Panic flashed down all Meredith’s nerves at the feel of Tyler’s flesh against hers. But the hand only gripped harder, grinding tendon against bone in her wrist.
“This is a secret, baby, that nobody else knows,” Tyler said, pulling her close, his breath hot in her face. “You came here all decked out against vampires. But I’m not a vampire.”
Meredith’s heart was pounding. “Let go!”
“First I want you to look over there. You can see the headstone now,” he said, turning her so that she couldn’t help but look. And he was right; she could see it, like a red monument with a shining globe on top. Or—not a globe. That marble ball looked like … it looked like …
“Now look east. What do you see there, Meredith?” Tyler went on, his voice hoarse with excitement.
It was the full moon. It had risen while he’d been talking to her, and now it hung above the hills, perfectly round and enormously distended, a huge and swollen red ball.
And that was what the headstone looked like. Like a full moon dripping with blood.
“You came here protected against vampires, Meredith,” Tyler said from behind her, even more hoarsely. “But the Smallwoods aren’t vampires at all. We’re something else.”
And then he growled.
No human throat could have made the sound. It wasn’t an imitation of an animal; it was real. A vicious guttural snarl that went up and up, snapping Meredith’s head around to look at him, to stare in disbelief. What she was seeing was so horrible her mind couldn’t accept it….
Meredith screamed.
“I told you it was a surprise. How do you like it?” Tyler said. His voice was thick with saliva, and his red tongue lolled among the rows of long canine teeth. His face wasn’t a face anymore. It jutted out grotesquely into a muzzle, and his eyes were yellow, with slitlike pupils. His reddish-sandy hair had grown over his cheeks and down the back of his neck. A pelt. “You can scream all you want up here and nobody’s going to hear you,” he added.
Every muscle in Meredith’s body was rigid, trying to get away from him. It was a visceral reaction, one she couldn’t have helped if she wanted to. His breath was so hot, and it smelled feral, like an animal. The nails he was digging into her wrist were stumpy blackened claws. She didn’t have the strength to scream again.
“There’s other things besides vampires with a taste for blood,” Tyler said in his new slurping voice. “And I want to taste yours. But first we’re going to have some fun.”
Although he still stood on two feet, his body was humped and strangely distorted. Meredith’s struggles were feeble as he forced her to the ground. She was a strong girl, but he was far stronger, his muscles bunching under his shirt as he pinned her.
“You’ve always been too good for me, haven’t you? Well, now you’re going to find out what you’ve been missing.”
I can’t breathe, Meredith thought wildly. His arm was across her throat, blocking her air. Gray waves rolled through her brain. If she passed out now …
“You’re going to wish you died as fast as Sue.” Tyler’s face floated above her, red as the moon, with that long tongue lolling. His other hand held her arms above her head. “You ever hear the story of Little Red Riding Hood?”
The gray was turning into blackness, speckled with little lights. Like stars, Meredith thought. I’m falling in the stars….
“Tyler, take your hands off her! Let go of her, now!” Matt’s voice shouted.
Tyler’s slavering snarl broke off into a surprised whine. The arm against Meredith’s throat released pressure, and air rushed into her lungs.
Footsteps were pounding around her. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do this, Tyler,” Matt said, jerking the sandy-red head back by the hair. Then Matt’s fist smashed into Tyler’s newly grown muzzle. Blood spurted from the wet animal nose.
The sound Tyler made froze Meredith’s heart in her chest. He sprang at Matt, twisting in midair, claws outstretched. Matt fell back under the assault and Meredith, dizzy, tried to push herself up off the ground. She couldn’t; all her muscles were trembling uncontrollably. But someone else picked Tyler off Matt as if Tyler weighed no more than a doll.
“Just like old times, Tyler,” Stefan said, setting Tyler on his feet and facing him.
Tyler stared a minute, then tried to run.
He was fast, dodging with animal agility between the rows of graves. But Stefan was faster and cut him off.
“Meredith, are you hurt? Meredith?” Bonnie was kneeling beside her. Meredith nodded—she still couldn’t speak—and let Bonnie support her head. “I knew we should have stopped him sooner, I knew it,” Bonnie went on worriedly.
Stefan was dragging Tyler back. “I always knew you were a jerk,” he said, shoving Tyler against a headstone, “but I didn’t know you were this stupid. I’d have thought you would have learned not to jump girls in graveyards, but no. And you had to brag about what you did to Sue, too. That wasn’t smart, Tyler.”
Meredith looked at them as they faced each other. So different, she thought. Even though they were both creatures of darkness in some way. Stefan was pale, his green eyes blazing with anger and menace, but there was a dignity, almost a purity about him. He was like some stern angel carved in unyielding marble. Tyler just looked like a trapped animal. He was crouched, breathing hard, blood and saliva mingling on his chest. Those yellow eyes glittered with hate and fear, and his fingers worked as if he’d like to claw something. A low sound came out of his throat.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to beat you up this time,” Stefan said. “Not unless you try to get away. We’re all going up to the church to have a little chat. You like to tell stories, Tyler; well, you’re going to tell me one now.”
Tyler sprang at him, vaulting straight from the ground for Stefan’s throat. But Stefan was ready for him. Meredith suspected that both Stefan and Matt enjoyed the next few minutes, working off their accumulated aggressions, but she didn’t, so she looked away.
In the end, Tyler was trussed up with nylon cord. He could walk, or shuffle at least, and Stefan held the back of his shirt and guided him ungently up the path to the church.
Inside, Stefan pushed Tyler onto the ground near the open tomb. “Now,” he said, “we are going to talk. And you’re going to cooperate, Tyler, or you’re going to be very, very sorry.”
10
Meredith sat down on the knee-high wall of the ruined church. “You said it was going to be dangerous, Stefan, but you didn’t say you were going to let him strangle me.”
“I’m sorry. I was hoping he’d give some more information, especially after he admitted to being there when Sue died. But I shouldn’t have waited.”
“I haven’t admitted anything! You can’t prove anything,” Tyler said. The animal whine was back in his voice, but on the walk up his face and body had returned to normal. Or rather, they’d returned to human, Meredith thought. The swelling and bruises and dried blood weren’t normal.
“This isn’t a court of law, Tyler,” she said. “Your father can’t help you now.”
“But if it were, we’d have a pretty good case,” Stefan added. “Enough to put you away on conspiracy to commit murder, I think.”
“That’s if somebody doesn’t melt down their grandma’s teaspoons to make a silver bullet,” Matt put in.
Tyler looked from one to another of them. “I won’t tell you anything.”
“Tyler, you know what you are? You’re a bully,” Bonnie said. “And bullies always talk.”
“You don’t mind pinning a girl down and threatening her,” said Matt, “but when her friends turn up you’re scared spitless.”
Tyler just glared at all of them.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk, I guess I’ll have to,” Stefan said. He leaned down and picked up the thick book he’d gotten from the library. One foot on the lip of the tomb, he rested the book on his knee and opened it. In that moment, Meredith thought, he looked frighteningly like Damon.
“This is a book by Gervase of Tilbury, Tyler,” he said. “It was written around the year 1210 A.D. One of the things it talks about is werewolves.”
“You can’t prove anything! You don’t have any evidence—”
“Shut up, Tyler!” Stefan looked at him. “I don’t need to prove it. I can see it, even now. Have you forgotten what I am?” There was a silence, and then Stefan went on. “When I got here a few days ago, there was a mystery. A girl was dead. But who killed her? And why? All the clues I could see seemed contradictory.
“It wasn’t an ordinary killing, not some human psycho off the street. I had the word of somebody I trusted on that—and independent evidence, too. An ordinary killer can’t work a Ouija board by telekinesis. An ordinary killer can’t cause fuses to blow in a power plant hundreds of miles away.
“No, this was somebody with tremendous physical and psychic power. From everything Vickie told me, it sounded like a vampire.
“Except that Sue Carson still had her blood. A vampire would have drained at least some of it. No vampire could resist that, especially not a killer. That’s where the high comes from, and the high’s the reason to kill. But the police doctor found no holes in her veins, and only a small amount of bleeding. It didn’t make sense.
“And there was another thing. You were in that house, Tyler. You made the mistake of grabbing Bonnie that night, and then you made the mistake of shooting off your mouth the next day, saying things you couldn’t have known unless you were there.
“So what did we have? A seasoned vampire, a vicious killer with Power to spare? Or a high school bully who couldn’t organize a trip to the toilet without falling over his own feet? Which? The evidence pointed both ways, and I couldn’t make up my mind.
“Then I went to see Sue’s body myself. And there it was, the biggest mystery of all. A cut here.” Stefan’s finger sketched a sharp line down from his collarbone. “Typical, traditional cut—made by vampires to share their own blood. But Sue wasn’t a vampire, and s
he didn’t make that cut herself. Someone made it for her as she lay there dying on the ground.”
Meredith shut her eyes, and she heard Bonnie swallow hard beside her. She put out a hand and found Bonnie’s and held tight, but she went on listening. Stefan had not gone into this kind of detail in his explanation to them before.
“Vampires don’t need to cut their victims like that; they use their teeth,” Stefan said. His upper lip lifted slightly to show his own teeth. “But if a vampire wanted to draw blood for somebody else to drink, he might cut instead of biting. If a vampire wanted to give someone else the first and only taste, he might do that.
“And that started me thinking about blood. Blood is important, you see. For vampires, it gives life, Power. It’s all we need for survival, and there are times when needing it drives us crazy. But it’s good for other things, too. For instance … initiation.
“Initiation and Power. Now I was thinking about those two things, putting them together with what I’d seen of you, Tyler, when I was in Fell’s Church before. Little things I hadn’t really focused on. But I remembered something Elena had told me about your family history, and I decided to check it out in Honoria Fell’s journal.”
Stefan lifted a piece of paper from between the pages of the book he held. “And there it was, in Honoria’s handwriting. I Xeroxed the page so I could read it to you. The Smallwoods’ little family secret—if you can read between the lines.”
Looking down at the paper, he read:
“November 12. Candles made, flax spun. We are short on cornmeal and salt, but we will get through the winter. Last night an alarm; wolves attacked Jacob Smallwood as he returned from the forest. I treated the wound with whortleberry and sallow bark, but it is deep and I am afraid. After coming home I cast the runes. I have told no one but Thomas the results.
“Casting the runes is divining,” Stefan added, looking up. “Honoria was what we’d call a witch. She goes on here to talk about ‘wolf trouble’ in various other parts of the settlement—it seems that all of a sudden there were frequent attacks, especially on young girls. She tells how she and her husband became more and more concerned. And finally, this: