by L. J. Smith
Matt stopped by, snow dusting his blond hair and his dark blue parka. As he entered the room, Elena looked up at him hopefully. Yesterday Matt had helped save Stefan, when the rest of the school had wanted to lynch him. But today he returned her hopeful look with one of sober regret, and the concern in his blue eyes was only for her.
The disappointment was unbearable. “What are you doing here?” Elena demanded. “Keeping your promise to ‘take care of me’?”
There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. But Matt’s voice was level. “That’s part of it, maybe. But I’d try to take care of you anyway, no matter what I promised. I’ve been worried about you. Listen, Elena—”
She was in no mood to listen to anyone. “Well, I’m just fine, thank you. Ask anybody here. So you can stop worrying. Besides, I don’t see why you should keep a promise to a murderer.”
Startled, Matt looked at Meredith and Bonnie. Then he shook his head helplessly. “You’re not being fair.”
Elena was in no mood to be fair either. “I told you, you can stop worrying about me, and about my business. I’m fine, thanks.”
The implication was obvious. Matt turned to the door just as Aunt Judith appeared with sandwiches.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” he muttered, hurrying to the door. He left without looking back.
Meredith and Bonnie and Aunt Judith and Robert tried to make conversation while they ate an early supper by the fire. Elena couldn’t eat and wouldn’t talk. The only one who wasn’t miserable was Elena’s little sister, Margaret. With four-year-old optimism, she cuddled up to Elena and offered her some of her Halloween candy.
Elena hugged her sister hard, her face pressed into Margaret’s white-blond hair for a moment. If Stefan could have called her or gotten a message to her, he would have done it by now. Nothing in the world would have stopped him, unless he were badly hurt, or trapped somewhere, or …
She wouldn’t let herself think about that last “or.” Stefan was alive; he had to be alive. Damon was a liar.
But Stefan was in trouble, and she had to find him somehow. She worried about it all through the evening, desperately trying to come up with a plan. One thing was clear; she was on her own. She couldn’t trust anyone.
It grew dark. Elena shifted on the couch and forced a yawn.
“I’m tired,” she said quietly. “Maybe I am sick after all. I think I’ll go to bed.”
Meredith was looking at her keenly. “I was just thinking, Miss Gilbert,” she said, turning to Aunt Judith, “that maybe Bonnie and I should stay the night. To keep Elena company.”
“What a good idea,” said Aunt Judith, pleased. “As long as your parents don’t mind, I’d be glad to have you.”
“It’s a long drive back to Herron. I think I’ll stay, too,” Robert said. “I can just stretch out on the couch here.” Aunt Judith protested that there were plenty of guest bedrooms upstairs, but Robert was adamant. The couch would do just fine for him, he said.
After looking once from the couch to the hall where the front door stood plainly in view, Elena sat stonily. They’d planned this between them, or at least they were all in on it now. They were making sure she didn’t leave the house.
When she emerged from the bathroom a little while later, wrapped in her red silk kimono, she found Meredith and Bonnie sitting on her bed.
“Well, hello, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,” she said bitterly.
Bonnie, who had been looking depressed, now looked alarmed. She glanced at Meredith doubtfully.
“She knows who we are. She means she thinks we’re spies for her aunt,” Meredith interpreted. “Elena, you should realize that isn’t so. Can’t you trust us at all?”
“I don’t know. Can I?”
“Yes, because we’re your friends.” Before Elena could move, Meredith jumped off the bed and shut the door. Then she turned to face Elena. “Now, for once in your life, listen to me, you little idiot. It’s true we don’t know what to think about Stefan. But, don’t you see, that’s your own fault. Ever since you and he got together, you’ve been shutting us out. Things have been happening that you haven’t told us about. At least you haven’t told us the whole story. But in spite of that, in spite of everything, we still trust you. We still care about you. We’re still behind you, Elena, and we want to help. And if you can’t see that, then you are an idiot.”
Slowly, Elena looked from Meredith’s dark, intense face to Bonnie’s pale one. Bonnie nodded.
“It’s true,” she said, blinking hard as if to keep back tears. “Even if you don’t like us, we still like you.”
Elena felt her own eyes fill and her stern expression crumple. Then Bonnie was off the bed, and they were all hugging, and Elena found she couldn’t help the tears that slid down her face.
“I’m sorry if I haven’t been talking to you,” she said. “I know you don’t understand, and I can’t even explain why I can’t tell you everything. I just can’t. But there’s one thing I can tell you.” She stepped back, wiping her cheeks, and looked at them earnestly. “No matter how bad the evidence against Stefan looks, he didn’t kill Mr. Tanner. I know he didn’t, because I know who did. And it’s the same person who attacked Vickie, and the old man under the bridge. And”— she stopped and thought a moment—“and, oh, Bonnie, I think he killed Yangtze, too.”
“Yangtze?” Bonnie’s eyes widened. “But why would he want to kill a dog?”
“I don’t know, but he was there that night, in your house. And he was … angry. I’m sorry, Bonnie.”
Bonnie shook her head dazedly. Meredith said, “Why don’t you tell the police?”
Elena’s laugh was slightly hysterical. “I can’t. It’s not something they can deal with. And that’s another thing I can’t explain. You said you still trusted me; well, you’ll just have to trust me about that.”
Bonnie and Meredith looked at each other, then at the bedspread, where Elena’s nervous fingers were picking a thread out of the embroidery. Finally Meredith said, “All right. What can we do to help?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, unless …” Elena stopped and looked at Bonnie. “Unless,” she said, in a changed voice, “you can help me find Stefan.”
Bonnie’s brown eyes were genuinely bewildered. “Me? But what can I do?” Then, at Meredith’s indrawn breath, she said, “Oh. Oh.”
“You knew where I was that day I went to the cemetery,” said Elena. “And you even predicted Stefan’s coming to school.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in all that psychic stuff,” said Bonnie weakly.
“I’ve learned a thing or two since then. Anyway, I’m willing to believe anything if it’ll help find Stefan. If there’s any chance at all it will help.”
Bonnie was hunching up, as if trying to make her already tiny form as small as possible. “Elena, you don’t understand,” she said wretchedly. “I’m not trained; it’s not something I can control. And—and it’s not a game, not anymore. The more you use those powers, the more they use you. Eventually they can end up using you all the time, whether you want it or not. It’s dangerous.”
Elena got up and walked to the cherry wood dresser, looking down at it without seeing it. At last she turned.
“You’re right; it’s not a game. And I believe you about how dangerous it can be. But it’s not a game for Stefan, either. Bonnie, I think he’s out there, somewhere, terribly hurt. And there’s nobody to help him; nobody’s even looking for him, except his enemies. He may be dying right now. He—he may even be …” Her throat closed. She bowed her head over the dresser and made herself take a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she looked up, she saw Meredith was looking at Bonnie.
Bonnie straightened her shoulders, sitting up as tall as she could. Her chin lifted and her mouth set. And in her normally soft brown eyes, a grim light shone as they met Elena’s.
“We need a candle,” was all she said.
The match rasped and threw sparks in the darkness, and then the candle flame burn
ed strong and bright. It lent a golden glow to Bonnie’s pale face as she bent over it.
“I’m going to need both of you to help me focus,” she said. “Look into the flame, and think about Stefan. Picture him in your mind. No matter what happens, keep on looking at the flame. And whatever you do, don’t say anything.”
Elena nodded, and then the only sound in the room was soft breathing. The flame flickered and danced, throwing patterns of light over the three girls sitting cross-legged around it. Bonnie, eyes closed, was breathing deeply and slowly, like someone drifting into sleep.
Stefan, thought Elena, gazing into the flame, trying to pour all her will into the thought. She created him in her mind, using all her senses, conjuring him to her. The roughness of his woolen sweater under her cheek, the smell of his leather jacket, the strength of his arms around her. Oh, Stefan …
Bonnie’s lashes fluttered and her breathing quickened, like a sleeper having a bad dream. Elena resolutely kept her eyes on the flame, but when Bonnie broke the silence a chill went up her spine.
At first it was just a moan, the sound of someone in pain. Then, as Bonnie tossed her head, breath coming in short bursts, it became words.
“Alone …” she said, and stopped. Elena’s nails bit into her hand. “Alone … in the dark,” said Bonnie. Her voice was distant and tortured.
There was another silence, and then Bonnie began to speak quickly.
“It’s dark and cold. And I’m alone. There’s something behind me … jagged and hard. Rocks. They used to hurt—but not now. I’m numb now, from the cold. So cold …” Bonnie twisted, as if trying to get away from something, and then she laughed, a dreadful laugh almost like a sob. “That’s … funny. I never thought I’d want to see the sun so much. But it’s always dark here. And cold. Water up to my neck, like ice. That’s funny, too. Water everywhere—and me dying of thirst. So thirsty … hurts …”
Elena felt something tighten around her heart. Bonnie was inside Stefan’s thoughts, and who knew what she might discover there? Stefan, tell us where you are, she thought desperately. Look around; tell me what you see.
“Thirsty. I need … life?” Bonnie’s voice was doubtful, as if not sure how to translate some concept. “I’m weak. He said I’ll always be the weak one. He’s strong … a killer. But that’s what I am, too. I killed Katherine; maybe I deserve to die. Why not just let go? …”
“No!” said Elena before she could stop herself. In that instant, she forgot everything but Stefan’s pain. “Stefan—”
“Elena!” Meredith cried sharply at the same time. But Bonnie’s head fell forward, the flow of words cut off. Horrified, Elena realized what she had done.
“Bonnie, are you all right? Can you find him again? I didn’t mean to …”
Bonnie’s head lifted. Her eyes were open now, but they looked at neither the candle nor Elena. They stared straight ahead, expressionless. When she spoke, her voice was distorted, and Elena’s heart stopped. It wasn’t Bonnie’s voice, but it was a voice Elena recognized. She’d heard it coming from Bonnie’s lips once before, in the graveyard.
“Elena,” the voice said, “don’t go to the bridge. It’s Death, Elena. Your death is waiting there.” Then Bonnie slumped forward.
Elena grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Bonnie!” she almost screamed. “Bonnie!”
“What … oh, don’t. Let go.” Bonnie’s voice was weak and shaken, but it was her own. Still bent over, she put a hand to her forehead.
“Bonnie, are you all right?”
“I think so … yes. But it was so strange.” Her tone sharpened and she looked up, blinking. “What was that, Elena, about being a killer?”
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything. I can’t describe it; it was awful. But what did that mean?”
“Nothing,” said Elena. “He’s hallucinating, that’s all.”
Meredith broke in. “He? Then you really think she tuned in to Stefan?”
Elena nodded, her eyes sore and burning as she looked away. “Yes. I think that was Stefan. It had to be. And I think she even told us where he is. Under Wickery Bridge, in the water.”
3
Bonnie stared. “I don’t remember anything about the bridge. It didn’t feel like a bridge.”
“But you said it yourself, at the end. I thought you remembered….” Elena’s voice died away. “You don’t remember that part,” she said flatly. It was not a question.
“I remember being alone, somewhere cold and dark, and feeling weak … and thirsty. Or was it hungry? I don’t know, but I needed … something. And I almost wanted to die. And then you woke me up.”
Elena and Meredith exchanged a glance. “And after that,” Elena said to Bonnie, “you said one more thing, in a strange voice. You said not to go near the bridge.”
“She told you not to go near the bridge,” Meredith corrected. “You in particular, Elena. She said Death was waiting.”
“I don’t care what’s waiting,” said Elena. “If that’s where Stefan is, that’s where I’m going.”
“Then that’s where we’re all going,” said Meredith.
Elena hesitated. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she said slowly. “There might be danger—of a kind you don’t know about. It might be best for me to go alone.”
“Are you kidding?” Bonnie said, sticking her chin out. “We love danger. I want to be young and beautiful in my grave, remember?”
“Don’t,” said Elena quickly. “You were the one who said it wasn’t a game.”
“And not for Stefan, either,” Meredith reminded them. “We’re not doing him much good standing around here.”
Elena was already shrugging out of her kimono, moving toward the closet. “We’d better all bundle up. Borrow anything you want to keep warm,” she said.
When they were more or less dressed for the weather, Elena turned to the door. Then she stopped.
“Robert,” she said. “There’s no way we can get past him to the front door, even if he’s asleep.”
Simultaneously, the three of them turned to look at the window.
“Oh, wonderful,” said Bonnie.
As they climbed out into the quince tree, Elena realized that it had stopped snowing. But the bite of the air on her cheek made her remember Damon’s words. Winter is an unforgiving season, she thought, and shivered.
All the lights in the house were out, including those in the living room. Robert must have gone to sleep already. Even so, Elena held her breath as they crept past the darkened windows. Meredith’s car was a little way down the street. At the last minute, Elena decided to get some rope, and she soundlessly opened the back door to the garage. There was a swift current in Drowning Creek, and wading would be dangerous.
The drive to the end of town was tense. As they passed the outskirts of the woods, Elena remembered the way the leaves had blown at her in the cemetery. Particularly oak leaves.
“Bonnie, do oak trees have any special significance? Did your grandmother ever say anything about them?”
“Well, they were sacred to the druids. All trees were, but oak trees were the most sacred. They thought the spirit of the trees brought them power.”
Elena digested that in silence. When they reached the bridge and got out of the car, she gave the oak trees on the right side of the road an uneasy glance. But the night was clear and strangely calm, and no breeze stirred the dry brown leaves left on the branches.
“Keep your eyes out for a crow,” she said to Bonnie and Meredith.
“A crow?” Meredith said sharply. “Like the crow outside Bonnie’s house the night Yangtze died?”
“The night Yangtze was killed. Yes.” Elena approached the dark waters of Drowning Creek with a rapidly beating heart. Despite its name, it was not a creek, but a swiftly flowing river with banks of native clay. Above it stood Wickery Bridge, a wooden structure built nearly a century ago. Once, it had been strong enough to support wagons; now it was just a footbridge that nob
ody used because it was so out of the way. It was a barren, lonely, unfriendly place, Elena thought. Here and there patches of snow lay on the ground.
Despite her brave words earlier, Bonnie was hanging back. “Remember the last time we went over this bridge?” she said.
Too well, Elena thought. The last time they had crossed it, they were being chased by … something … from the graveyard. Or someone, she thought.
“We’re not going over it yet,” she said. “First we’ve got to look under it on this side.”
“Where the old man was found with his throat torn open,” Meredith muttered, but she followed.
The car headlights illuminated only a small portion of the bank under the bridge. As Elena stepped out of the narrow wedge of light, she felt a sick thrill of foreboding. Death was waiting, the voice had said. Was Death down here?
Her feet slipped on the damp, scummy stones. All she could hear was the rushing of the water, and its hollow echo from the bridge above her head. And, though she strained her eyes, all she could see in the darkness was the raw riverbank and the wooden trestles of the bridge.
“Stefan?” she whispered, and she was almost glad that the noise of the water drowned her out. She felt like a person calling “who’s there?” to an empty house, yet afraid of what might answer.
“This isn’t right,” said Bonnie from behind her.
“What do you mean?”
Bonnie was looking around, shaking her head slightly, her body taut with concentration. “It just feels wrong. I don’t—well, for one thing I didn’t hear the river before. I couldn’t hear anything at all, just dead silence.”
Elena’s heart dropped with dismay. Part of her knew that Bonnie was right, that Stefan wasn’t in this wild and lonely place. But part of her was too scared to listen.
“We’ve got to make sure,” she said through the constriction in her chest, and she moved farther into the darkness, feeling her way along because she couldn’t see. But at last she had to admit that there was no sign that any person had recently been here. No sign of a dark head in the water, either. She wiped cold muddy hands on her jeans.