Blood Will Tell

by L. J. Smith

  "No. I mean about what happened."

  "I remember . . . it didn't hurt as much as I thought. Not when I figured out how to do it." Cautiously, Matt sat up, feeling the piece of damp cloth fall away from his forehead.

  He was a little dizzy, but not sick. He could remember the pain and . . .

  Suddenly, he was sharply aware of the and.

  "Jeez."

  No wonder his hands were shaky. His gut was shaky.

  "Stefan?"

  "Yes."

  " We . . . we . . . didn't . . . "

  "No." Stefan sounded much more like himself.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s all?”

  Matt felt defensive. “Well, what do you want me to say? Thanks a lot for drinking my blood?” He made an effort. I appreciate the Coke.”

  Stefan dropped his face into his hands. “I thought you would hate me.”

  “Because of . . . but you warned me, didn’t you? I figured it was probably like that.

  Like—like symbiosis or whatever it is. In biology, where the plant makes nectar so the bee gets pollen on it and takes it to the next plant. Right?” Stefan

  “Well—well . . . not exactly. Vampires and humans aren’t natural symbiants. They haven’t evolved together and all too often the human ends up—“ He realized he should shut up. Telling Matt that humans usually ended up dead or as vampires too was just the opposite of a good strategy.

  “Oh,” Matt said again. Stefan was too drenched in relief to find any fault with the conversation. He was gradually realizing that Matt didn’t have the fears for his masculinity that made overcompensation necessary. Matt knew he was male and straight the way he knew he was human and an omnivore that ate certain foods and didn’t eat others. He could force himself to take a bite of grass, or even, if the circumstances were drastic enough and survival was at stake, a bite of human flesh. But he wouldn’t worry afterward about becoming a horse or a cannibal for life.

  Besides, Matt was a giver. Just as Elena had been. Something inside them compelled them to get involved in any situation, to try to make it better.

  What Meredith had seen in the naked light of logic, and compelled herself to accept, what Bonnie had been able to follow as an adventure, Matt saw as an act of friendship, and an obligation between friends. Elena had always fulfilled her obligations, even to the undead.

  Stefan was not human, but inhuman or not, he was Matt’s friend.

  Matt was talking again. “Look,” Matt said. “You didn’t want to do this tonight. We made you. And maybe there was something . . . somewhere that made us.” Involuntarily, Stefan glanced up. Yes, he’d had the strong feeling of her presence here tonight, too. Elena. Still scheming from the spirit world. Elena couldn’t help him any longer with her blood, but that wouldn’t matter to her. She had three humans that she could still influence, and that was fine. It wouldn’t matter to her that Meredith got a bit of a shock or that Bonnie might be playing with fire, or even—well, she wouldn’t have done anything to destroy his friendship with Matt, but he hadn’t known that before.

  Matt was going on. “But even though we did force you, you did everything you could for each one of us: three different personalities. No, don’t try to figure out if Meredith or Bonnie talked. I could tell. And Meredith is going to be a tough one for a while, isn’t she?” There were some things gentlemen didn’t talk about. But . . . “Meredith is tough,” Stefan said. “She’ll figure things out for herself and then I’ll do whatever she wants.

  Assuming,” he added dryly, “I survive past tonight.”

  “What do you think about your chances—now? Our chances, I mean.” Stefan shook his head, both to convey his opinion about his chances, and his opinion about Matt getting involved. But he tried to think about the question. Matt deserved that.

  “I don’t know, but a lot better than before,” he admitted slowly.

  “So if Elena did influence things, it might really make a difference.” It had better, Stefan thought, remembering Meredith and the naked fear in her eyes—

  in Meredith’s eyes!

  “Well, there,” Matt was saying. “If Elena is behind it all, then it’s another of her little victories. Everybody did the best they could. You had to try to fit yourself to each person, and we had to face our fears—”

  He paused and they spoke in unison. “—except maybe Bonnie.” Matt snorted. Stefan could sense him looking at him.

  “I don’t want . . . to lose a friend. My best friend, I guess you could say, even though I don’t see much of him,” Matt said finally.

  Now that took courage, Stefan thought. Overcoming the stereotypes of the culture you were born into, trying not to be defensive, or to run away.

  “I’d be proud to have a best friend like you,” he said, and Matt smiled, then ducked his head and started fussing with his shoe, his tolerance for “mushy type stuff” undoubtedly exceeded.

  Each of them had done their best. Matt was still his friend. For Meredith, maybe the day would come when she could look at him and not think “inhuman”—or at least not think it immediately and constantly. Maybe Bonnie, the moth, would be able to stay away from the unholy flame. Now, there was something to worry about. He could all too easily see Bonnie taking a walk on the very wild side with Damon. His brother had a soft spot for her already, she knew. But if either of them had a problem, he already knew what he had to do to find a plan for a solution.

  Just look up.

  The end.

  

  © Ljane Smith (L. J. Smith)

  This is a fantasy of a fantasy. The idea is : what might have happened at the end of Dark Reunion if Stefan had been persuaded to drink the blood of his three friends in order to be more powerful when he fought that night.

  It might have happened something like this...

  Please note that the text from the actual book, Dark Reunion, is paraphrased and condensed.

  Rating: for mature people who enjoy vampire tales.

  Bonnie

  Stefan picked up the branch of white ash, took the knife out of his pocket, and began to strip the smaller branches off, making it into a spear.“Terrific! The knight is going off to combat,” Matt said. “Don’t you see that you’re walking right into that monster’s trap?” He took a step toward Stefan. “Right. You’re the vampire, but you don’t drink human blood, so you’re almost as weak as a human . . .”

  Stefan gave him a bleak smile. “You think so? Are you sure?”

  “Well, I know that there are three of us and only one of you—”

  “Stop it, Matt,” Meredith said quietly. “We can’t stop him from fighting this murderer.

  All we can do is help him.” And without another word, she began unbuttoning the top button of her shirt.

  Bonnie was shocked for an instant—although she’d had the same idea when Stefan had first arrived in Fell’s Church. She hadn’t been thinking of all three of them . . . but what did it matter? She nodded and unzipped her windbreaker.

  Matt hesitated a moment and then took off his Tshirt. “All for one; one for all,” he said.

  Stefan

  That was how it had started. The three of them so determined, united, against him.

  Insistent that he break his vow and take human blood. And Stefan had been walking out on it, despite the knowledge that it would help him to kill the monster preying on Fell’s Church, despite the danger to all of them if he failed. He had actually walked out the door when something else had sparked in his brain.

  “Wait,” Bonnie had said authoritatively. “Can’t you feel it? It’s Elena. She wants you to do this. Can’t you tell?”

  Stefan had looked at her blankly. If this was some new way of manipulating him. . . .

  But Bonnie had been serious, her small head tilted as if listening to faraway music; her expression almost beatific.

  And then he had felt it too. Like a benison from the heavens, a whisper from his goldenhaired angel. Do it, Stefan. Let the
m make their sacrifice for Fell’s Church, let them give what they can. As you are. It will be to their credit afterward, even if they don’t survive. As for breaking your vow; well, let the condemnation for that be weighed against the merit you’ve gained by staying to protect these humans who—many of them—hate and fear you. Beloved, you are very brave, but sometimes a little too stubborn to be practical.

  Voices from beyond? But that was Elena; that was the way she spoke, and that was the way he felt when she spoke. The next words were not just for him, and something inside him watched Matt and Meredith as they heard the voice too, Matt astonished; Meredith with her usual composure.

  This is our reunion and I give you to each other. I give my friends to you, Stefan, so that you can fight with all your combined strength. And to you, my friends, I give Stefan . . . who may be able to keep you alive. Take each other. . . and trust.

  And then trust. Aye, there was the rub. How to trust even the beneficence of heaven after what that monsterinhumanform had done to this innocent little town.

  But when Elena commanded, he listened. When Elena spoke, even from the afterlife, he obeyed. He’d promised her that in his heart, long ago.

  And so he had agreed, his only condition being that they do this one at a time, with the other two waiting in the car. He, Stefan Salvatore, who had given up drinking human blood so long ago, and bound himself with fearsome oaths not to do it, was going to do it.

  The only thing left was to determine the order, which Meredith did with three twigs from the white ash branch. Meredith. Bonnie. Then Matt.

  Stefan was glad that Meredith was going to be first. Meredith would remain calm during The Last Judgment. She was a rock. He was relying on her to help steady him a little as he broke this pledge that had been his one guidance since becoming a vampire nearly half a millennium ago.

  Bonnie and Matt headed for the car. Stefan looked around the landing for Mrs.

  Flowers, but the landlady had disappeared. Together, he and Meredith went back upstairs.

  “If Bonnie were here,” Meredith said, “she’d be sure it was a good omen that Mrs.

  Flowers was gone.”

  “Fortunately, the door has a good sturdy lock. We don’t have any need for good omens; it can make sure nothing human gets in, and I can keep anything inhuman out. I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this right now?” Stefan spoke without changing his tone in the slightest on the last sentence.

  Meredith smiled. “And flout an edict of Elena’s? I’m not that dumb.”

  “That’s what all three of you think it was? An edict?” Stefan looked at Meredith pleadingly. “I was hoping to get you to talk some sense into Matt. You’ll be alone with him while I’m with Bonnie.”

  “Sense? Matt? Now? In the same sentence?”

  “Yes. We have to get him to give this up. You have to, Meredith, because I don’t think he’ll listen to a word I say. It’s all very fine and noble, offering your blood to make me stronger so I can fight that . . . thing. But Matt can’t handle it.” Meredith’s bright dark eyes were as sad as he had ever seen them, like still water in deep pools. "You don’t know Matt well enough by now? He wants to save Fell’s Church even if it kills him. And do you have any idea how he’d feel if you said you’d take blood from Bonnie and me, but not him?"

  “I thought we could fob him off with something about the two of you being girls.” Meredith laughed shortly. “Nyet, Yvette. He knows Damon takes blood from guys. He knows about Mr. Tanner. He knows it’s not a sexual thing.” Stefan groaned. “It’s not. But—how do I explain?”

  He studied Meredith, the quiet elegance of line of her body, the timeless beauty of her high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and the striking features that had been the downfall of countless males in Fell’s Church. He studied the way her eyelashes tangled together when she shut her eyes. And even as he looked at her he was aware that she was studying him from under those seemingly demure eyelashes. Meredith was like the abyss that looked back at you when you looked into it.

  He sighed.

  “Meredith—can I try to explain something to you? I know there’s no time, but we have to make time for it. Unless you want one of your friends ending up in a psychiatric hospital—

  do you remember Vicky?”

  She didn’t snap off a superficial answer, pointing out that of course she knew a girl she’d gone to school for years with. He watched her face as her mind roved back over the seasons until she could picture what he wanted her to picture: Vicky, a splash of white as she stumbled down a dark country road, wearing nothing but a thin torn slip; her hair disarrayed; her eyes like two black holes to some other dreadful dimension; her mouth one long silent scream.

  “I remember,” Meredith whispered. Stefan could feel her shock. “But Vicky was—she was attacked and forced, and God only knows what horrible things she saw or—or felt. This is totally different—”

  “Tell me that again after you’ve taken your turn.” Stefan deliberately spoke in harsh, clipped tones, and hardly glanced at Meredith as he continued. “Vicky was forced.” He stared off into a middle distance. “Matt’s forcing himself. Vicky was attacked. Matt has the selfdiscipline to hold himself down. Vicky saw or experienced things that, to put it crudely, drove her crazy. And whether those things were in the mind of a supernatural creature, or in her mind, or in the world around them, I don’t know and Vicky isn’t saying.” He swung back toward her, letting the harshness drain out of his voice, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “Meredith, if vampire and donor are, well, friends, with no need to overcome mental or physical resistance—either by mind control or by physical force, then everything should be fine. But it isn’t, always. There are monsters lurking in human minds scarier than anything I’ve ever imagined in my own nightmares. And vampires are just the sort of things likely to make them pop up.”

  “And you think one could pop up with Matt?”

  “I’m afraid of it. I’m afraid of a lot of things, if he makes himself do this.” Meredith cocked her silky dark head, highlights running up and down the length of her hair. Then she met his eyes and nodded, once. “I’ll try to talk him out of it. I’ll . . . let’s see . . . I’ll help try to make him believe that by the time his turn comes around that you’re as full as a tick and ready to burst. That will be Plan T.”

  “Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be quite as full as a tick, but I may not exactly be myself by that time. It’ll be good to feel that you’re backing me up.”

  “Oh, I’m a famous backupper. Elena wasn’t just a Big Picture Person; she loved figuring out all the grungy little details, but I was her number one backer.” Meredith spoke, not with bitterness or sarcasm, nor even with the tolerance usually accorded to the faults of the recently dead, but with love. Just love. The absent love of a true friend, who has had time to learn all, know all, and forgive all. Watching her, thinking about all the years that she had known Elena while he had not—all the simple daytoday fun they had had—Stefan felt a hand clutch at his heart. He had only loved Elena a few short months because he had only known her that long.

  “Meredith?” He sat down and tried to keep envy, like a haggard shrieking banshee, out of his voice.

  He wasn’t quite sure if he succeeded. Meredith was perceptive and she was watching him. “Yes, Stefan.”

  “Meredith, when this starts, I’d appreciate it so much if you could . . . well . . . think about Elena. About things you did together. Stuff like the night you tried to make toffee.

  You did that, didn’t you?”

  They had. He knew. He’d read Elena’s diaries before they’d been enshrined in the library. And he had an eidetic memory.

  June 18: ohmygodinthemorning: Bonnie’s house. Bonnie’s greatgrandmother must have been a witch. I am NOT kidding. If she could make something edible out of the toffee recipe in her Simple Home Cookery Book—I’m not even saying “delicious,” I’m saying simply something that a person could choke down without ruining the
kitchen, setting fire to the curtains, and scalding both hands and the inside of her mouth, then she definitely had supernatural powers. We are going to need a jackhammer to get all that $%

  ^*!! sugar concrete out of the stove burners . . . And yet it never hardened when we tried to pull it, oh, no . . . This is the end of Bonnie’s candy making craze, and if she doesn’t agree, the world is going to see its first Homicide By Toffee case . . . OH, GOD, WE HAD

  FUN.

  But knowing the words by heart wasn’t the same as being there, as seeing Elena’s face flushed with the heat of the stove, as counting the wisps of damp gold hair curling on her forehead; as watching her laugh and snap out orders and apologize by turn.

  He wanted to see that.

  “I vaguely remember. Bonnie had to have it cut out of her hair,” Meredith was saying.

  Her eyes were mildly curious.

  “I’d like to see that. Little things like that, if you can remember them. Just any little thing—”

  He was repeating himself—and he was starting to break down. Meredith put a hand on his elbow, guiding him to the threadbare brokenspringed couch in this room that had been his home for the happiest days of his life.

  Meredith

  Meredith was worried about Stefan. Those haunted green eyes . . . they’d used to be a brighter leaf green. Now they were dark as emerald. The tightly molded planes of his face, the beauty of his features, the soft promise of his mouth were all there . . . but still, somehow, these days Stefan managed to look like a condemned man. It wasn’t just since the monster had started attacking Fell’s Church. It was since losing Elena. Stefan had become the most beautiful walking shadow of his former self.

  Fear assailed her suddenly, and she had to know about their champion. “Stefan?

  With human blood in your veins, and White Ash in your hands, how do you rate your chances?” she asked him.

  “How can I know? All I do know is that I’ll fight him with everything I have; with everything you’re giving me.”