by L. J. Smith
Clinging to each other, they made their way to a bench by the side of the path and sat down to kiss some more.
Zander just felt so good under her hands, al sleek muscles and smooth skin, and Bonnie ran her hands across his shoulders, along his arms, down his sides.
At her touch, Zander suddenly winced.
“What’s the matter?” she said, lifting her head away from his.
“Nothing,” said Zander, reaching for her. “I was just messing around with the guys, you know. They play rough.”
“Let me see,” Bonnie said, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, half concerned and half wanting to just check out Zander’s abs. He had turned out to be surprisingly modest, considering they were sharing a room.
Wincing again, he sucked his breath in through his teeth as Bonnie lifted his shirt. She gasped. Zander’s whole side was covered with ugly black-and-purple bruises.
“Zander,” Bonnie said horrified, “these look real y bad.
You don’t get bruises like that just messing around.” They look like you were fighting for your life—or someone else was, she thought, and pushed away the words.
“They’re nothing. Don’t worry,” Zander said, tugging his shirt back down. He started to wrap his arms around her again, but Bonnie moved away, feeling vaguely sickened.
“I wish you’d tel me what happened,” she said.
“I did,” Zander said comfortingly. “You know how crazy those guys get.”
It was true, she’d never known guys so rowdy. Zander reached for her again, and this time Bonnie moved closer to him, turning her face up for his kiss. As their lips met, she remembered Zander’s saying to her, “You know me. You see me.”
She did know him, Bonnie told herself. She could trust Zander.
Across the street, Damon stood in the shadow of a tree, watching Bonnie kiss Zander.
He had to admit he felt a little pang, seeing her in the arms of someone else. There was something so sweet about Bonnie, and she was brave and intel igent under that cotton-candy exterior. The witchy angle added a little touch of spice to her, too. He’d always thought of her as his.
Then again, didn’t the little redbird deserve someone of her own? As much as Damon liked her, he didn’t love her, he knew that. Seeing the lanky boy’s face light up in response to her smile, he thought maybe this one would.
After making out for a few more minutes, Bonnie and Zander stood up and wandered, hand in hand, toward what Damon knew was Zander’s dorm. Damon trailed them, keeping to the shadows.
He huffed out a breath of self-mocking laughter. I’m getting soft in my old age, he thought. Back in the old days he would have eaten Bonnie without a second thought, and here he was worrying about her love life.
Stil , it would be nice if the little redhead could be happy.
If her boyfriend wasn’t a threat.
Damon ful y expected the happy couple to disappear into the dorm together. Instead, Zander kissed Bonnie good-bye and watched as she went inside, then headed back out. Damon fol owed him, keeping hidden, as he went back to the party where they’d been before. A few minutes later, Zander came down again, trailed by his pack of noisy boys.
Damon twitched in irritation. God save me from college boys, he thought. They were probably going to gorge themselves on greasy bar food. After a couple of days of watching Zander, he was ready to go back to Elena and report that the boy was guilty of nothing more than being uncouth.
Instead of heading toward the nearest bar, though, the boys jogged across campus, quick and determined, as if they had an important destination in mind. Reaching the edge of campus, they headed into the woods.
Damon gave them a few seconds and then fol owed.
He was good at this, he was a predator, a natural hunter, and so it took him a few minutes of listening, of sending his Power out, of final y just racing through the woods, black branches snapping before him, to realize that Zander and his boys were gone.
Final y, Damon stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The woods were silent except for the innocent sound of various woodland creatures going about their business and his own ragged panting. That pack of noisy, obnoxious children had escaped him, disappearing without the slightest trace. He gritted his teeth and tamped down his anger at being evaded, until it was mostly curiosity about how they’d done it.
Poor Bonnie, Damon thought as he fastidiously smoothed and adjusted his clothing. One thing was abundantly clear: Zander and his friends weren’t entirely human.
Stefan twitched. This was al just kind of strange.
He was sitting in a velvet-backed chair in a huge underground room, as col ege students roamed around arranging flowers and candles. The room was impressive, Stefan would give them that: cavernous yet elegant. But the little arrangements of flowers seemed chintzy and false somehow, like a stage set in the Vatican. And the black-masked figures lurking in the back of the room, watching, were giving him the jitters.
Matt had cal ed him to tel him about some kind of col ege secret society that he’d joined, and that the leader wanted Stefan to join, too. Stefan agreed to meet him and talk about it. He never was much of a joiner, but he liked Matt, and it was something to do.
It would take his mind off Elena, he’d thought. Lurking around campus—and it felt like lurking, when he saw Elena, with the way his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her even as he hurried out of sight—he’d watched her. Sometimes she was with Damon. Stefan’s fingernails bit into his palms.
Consciously relaxing, he turned his attention back to Ethan, who was sitting across a smal table from him.
“The members of the Vitale Society hold a very special place in the world,” he was saying, leaning forward, smiling.
“Only the best of the best can hope to be tapped, and the qualities we look for I think are very wel exemplified in you, Stefan.”
Stefan nodded politely and let his mind drift again.
Secret societies were something he actual y knew a little about. Sir Walter Raleigh’s School of Night in Elizabethan England wrestled with what was then forbidden knowledge: science and philosophy the church declared out of bounds.
Il Carbonari back home in Italy worked to encourage revolt against the government of the various city-states, aiming for a unification of al of Italy. Damon, Stefan knew, toyed with the members of the Hel fire Club in London for a few months in the 1700s, until he got bored with their posturing and childish blasphemy.
Al those secret societies, though, had some kind of purpose. Rebel ing against conventional morality, pursuing truth, revolution.
Stefan leaned forward. “Pardon me,” he said politely,
“but what is the point of the Vitale Society?” Ethan paused midspeech to stare at him, then wet his lips. “Wel ,” he said slowly, “the real secrets and rituals of the Society can’t be unveiled to outsiders. None of the pledges know our true practices and purposes, not yet. But I can tel you that there are innumerable benefits to being one of us. Travel, adventure, power.”
“None of the pledges know your real purpose?” Stefan asked. His natural inclination to stay away was becoming more resolute. “Why don’t you wear a mask like the others?”
Ethan looked surprised. “I’m the face of the Vitale for the pledges,” he said simply. “They’l need someone they know to guide them.”
Stefan made up his mind. He didn’t want to be guided.
“I apologize, Ethan,” he said formal y, “but I don’t think I would be an appropriate candidate for your organization. I appreciate the invitation.” He started to rise.
“Wait,” said Ethan. His eyes were wide and golden and had a hungry, eager expression in them. “Wait,” he said, licking his lips again. “We … we have a copy of Pico del a Mirandola’s De hominis dignitate.” He stumbled over the words as if he didn’t quite know what they were. “An old one, from Florence, a first edition. You’d get to read it. You could have it if you wanted.”
Stefan stiffened.
He had studied Mirandola’s work on reason and philosophy with enthusiasm back when he was stil alive, when he was a young man preparing for the university. He had a sudden visceral longing to feel the old leather and parchment, see the blocky type from the first days of the printing press, so much more right somehow than the modern computer-set books. There was no way Ethan should have known to offer him that specific book.
His eyes narrowed.
“What makes you think I’d want that?” he hissed, leaning across the table toward Ethan. He could feel Power surging through him, fueled by his rage, but Ethan wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I … you told me you like old books, Stefan,” he said, and gave a little false laugh, gazing down at the tabletop. “I thought you would be interested.”
“No, thank you,” Stefan said, low and angry. He couldn’t force Ethan to look him in the eye, not with al these people around, so after a moment, he stood. “I refuse your offer,” he told Ethan shortly. “Good-bye.”
He walked to the door without looking back, holding himself straight and tal . He glanced at Matt, who was talking to another student, as he reached the door and, when Matt met his eyes, gave him a shrug and a shake of the head, trying to telegraph an apology. Matt nodded, disappointed but not arguing.
No one tried to stop Stefan as he left the room. But he had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something wrong here. He didn’t know enough to dissuade Matt from joining, but he decided to keep tabs on the Vitale Society. As he shut the door behind him, he could sense Ethan watching him.
32
Moonlight shone in the window, iluminating a long swath of Elena’s bed. Meredith had tossed and turned for a while, but now Elena could hear her steady breathing. It was good that Meredith was sleeping. She was exhausting herself: working out constantly, patrol ing every night, making sure al her weapons were in prime condition, wild with frustration that they weren’t able to find any solid clues as to the kil er’s identity.
But it was lonely being the only one awake.
Elena stretched her legs under the sheets and flipped over her pil ow to rest her head on the cooler side.
Branches tapped against the window, and Elena wiggled her shoulders against the mattress, trying to calm her busy mind. She wished Bonnie would come home.
The tapping on the window came again, then again, sharp peremptory raps.
Slowly, it dawned on Elena, a little late, that there weren’t any trees whose branches touched that window.
Heart pounding, she sat up with a gasp.
Eyes black as night peered in the window, skin as pale as the moonlight. It took Elena’s brain a minute to start working again, but then she was out of bed and opening the window. He was so quick and graceful that by the time she shut the window and turned around, Damon was seated on her bed, leaning back on his elbows and looking total y at ease.
“Some vampire hunter she is,” he said cool y, looking over at Meredith as she made a soft whuffling sound into her pil ow. His gaze, though, was almost affectionate.
“That’s not fair,” Elena said. “She’s exhausted.”
“Someday her life might depend on her staying alert even when she’s exhausted,” Damon said pointedly.
“Okay, but today is not that day,” Elena said. “Leave Meredith alone and tel me what you’ve found out about Zander.” Sitting down cross-legged on the bed next to him, she leaned forward to give Damon her ful attention.
Damon took her hand, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers. “I haven’t learned anything definite,” he said, “but I have suspicions.”
“What do you mean?” Elena said, distracted. Damon was stroking her arm lightly with his other hand, feather touches, and she realized he was watching her closely, waiting to see if she would object. Inwardly, she shrugged a little. What did it matter, after al ? Stefan had left her; there was no reason now to push Damon away. She glanced over at Meredith, but the dark-haired girl was stil deeply asleep.
Damon’s dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, because he leaned closer to her on the bed, pul ing her snugly against him. “I need to investigate a little more,” Damon said.
“There’s definitely something off about him and those boys he runs around with. They’re too fast, for one thing. But I don’t think Bonnie’s in any immediate danger.” Elena stiffened in his arms. “What proof do you have of that?” she asked. “And it’s not just Bonnie. If anyone’s in danger, they have to be our top priority.”
“I’l watch them, don’t worry.” He chuckled, a dry, intimate sound. “He and Bonnie are certainly getting close.
She seems besotted.”
Elena twisted away from his careful hands, feeling anxious. “If he could be dangerous, if there’s anything off about him the way you say, we have to warn her about him.
We can’t just sit by watching and waiting for him to do something wrong. By then, it might be too late.” Damon pul ed her back to him, his hand flat and steady against her side. “You already tried warning Bonnie, and that didn’t work, did it? Why would she listen to you now that she’s spent more time with him, bonding with him, and nothing bad’s happened to her?” He shook his head. “It won’t work, princess.”
“I just wish we could do something,” Elena said miserably.
“If I had gotten a look at the bodies,” Damon said thoughtful y, “I might have more of an idea of what could be behind this. I suppose breaking into the morgue is out of the question?”
Elena considered this. “I think they’ve probably released the bodies by now,” she said doubtful y, “and I’m not sure where they’d take them next. Wait!” She sat up straight.
“The campus security office would have something, wouldn’t they? Records, or maybe even pictures of Christopher’s and Samantha’s bodies? The campus officers were al over the crime scenes before the police got there.”
“We can check it out tomorrow, certainly,” Damon said casual y. “If it wil make you feel better.” His voice and expression were almost disinterested, provokingly so, and once again, Elena felt the strange mixture of desire and irritation that Damon often sparked in her. She wanted to shove him away and pul him closer at the same time.
She had almost decided on shoving him away when he turned to look her ful in the face. “My poor Elena,” he said in a soothing murmur, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He ran a soft hand up her arm, shoulder, and neck, coming to rest gently against her jawline. “You can’t get away from the dark creatures, can you, Elena? No matter how you try.
Come to a new place, find a new monster.” He stroked her face with one finger. His words were almost mocking, but his voice was gentle and his eyes shone with emotion.
Elena pressed her cheek against his hand. Damon was elegant and clever, and something in him spoke to the dark, secret part of her. She couldn’t deny that she was drawn to him—that she’d always been drawn to him, even when they first met and he scared her. And Elena had loved him since that winter night when she awoke as a vampire and he cared for her, protected her, and taught her what she needed to know.
Stefan had left her. There was no reason why she shouldn’t do this. “I don’t always want to get away from the dark creatures, Damon,” she said.
He was silent for a moment, his hand stroking her cheek automatical y, and then he kissed her. His lips were like cool silk against hers, and Elena felt as if she had been wandering for hours in a desert and had final y been given a cold drink of water.
She kissed him harder, letting go of his hand to twine her fingers through his soft hair.
Pul ing away from her mouth, Damon kissed her neck gently, waiting for permission. Elena dropped her head back to give him better access. She heard Damon’s breath hiss through his teeth, and he looked into her eyes for a moment, his face soft and more open than she’d ever seen it, before he lowered his face to her neck again.
The twin wasp stings of his fangs hurt for a m
oment, and then she was sliding through darkness, fol owing a ribbon of aching pleasure that led her through the night, led her to Damon. She felt his joy and wonder at having her in his arms without guilt, without reserve. In return she let him feel her happiness in him and her confusion over wanting him and stil loving Stefan, her pain at Stefan’s absence. There was no guilt, not now, but there was a huge Stefan-shaped hole in her heart, and she let Damon see it.
It’s all right, Elena, she felt from him, not quite in words, but in a rock-solid contentment, like the purr of a cat. All I want is this.
33
Ethan was, Matt observed, totaly freaking out. The guy’s usual cheerful composure had worn off, and he was supervising the initiation arrangements with the intensity of a dril sergeant.
“No!” he snarled from across the room. He darted over and slapped the leg of a girl who was standing on a chair and weaving roses through the welded metal V at the top of the central arch.
“Ouch!” she yel ed, dropping the roses to the floor.
“Ethan, what is your problem?”
“We don’t put anything on the V, Lorelai,” he told her coldly, and bent to pick up the flowers. “You must respect the symbols of the Vitale Society. It’s a matter of honor.
When our leader final y joins us, we must demonstrate to him that we are disciplined, that we are capable.” He shoved the roses back into her hands. “We don’t do that by draping garbage al over the symbol of our organization.” Lorelai stared at him. “I’m sorry. But I thought you were the leader of the Vitale Society, Ethan.” Everyone had stopped working to watch Ethan’s melt-down. Noticing that he was the center of attention, Ethan breathed deeply, clearly trying to regain his composure.