by L. J. Smith
Maybe . . . maybe this would be a new way of life for me. Traveling at the speed of water rather than confining myself to the shadows. I’d never stay in one port for too long, outrunning death and my curse. Sailors usually had no friends but the men they crewed with—I would fit right in.
But then I opened my eyes, my fantasy evaporating into the heavy midnight that surrounded me. A dense cloud cover obscured the sky and any stars embedded there failed to shine through. The Mina slipped silently out to sea, cutting the oily water with barely a hiss.
This was the vampire’s realm. Though my ring allowed me to walk in the daylight, my world existed in darkness. It was then, while the sun slumbered, that I hunted, evaded enemies, spewed curses, broke promises, and gave myself over to hate. We had escaped Klaus’s minion, but we hadn’t defeated him. He and his master were still out there, somewhere, planning on future torture and death for me and Damon.
Lexi came up on deck behind me and touched my shoulder.
“We’re en route to San Francisco,” she said quietly. “I’ve not been there . . . in a while. But you’ll love the fog and dismal weather. Great for brooding.” She gave me a thin smile. “And I can tell you’re going to be quite the brooder.”
I leaned against the deck rail. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there would never be a place for me, that I would never fit. And I didn’t deserve to, after all the lives I’d ended.
The night wind tousled my thick brown hair and Lexi tucked it behind my ear.
“He said an eye for an eye,” I began.
“Yes. Well.” Lexi took a deep sigh and looked serious for a moment, eyes narrowing. “This is a fast ship and it will take him time to figure out our manifest. Besides the legal cargo of tea and coffee, there’s a sizable shipment of opium they’re planning to pick up in Frisco. The captain failed to register with the dock master, so it will be a while before anyone figures out where we turn tail to.”
“No. I mean yes, that’s good.” I rubbed a sudden spray of water from my eyes. “But I meant . . . he killed the people that were supposed to be our wives, because his Katherine was killed.”
Lexi nodded, shivering.
“And then he grabbed you . . . and was going to kill you and me, and probably Damon, in a church, just like Katherine was killed.”
Lexi narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”
“If he was being so particular about whom he killed and in what manner, why didn’t he set the place on fire?”
Lexi blinked. I saw her work through the logic. She stayed silent for a long time. I couldn’t read her eyes, but still I felt embarrassed to be thinking of Katherine at a time like this.
“Stefan,” she began. “Please listen to me. There are all levels of evil among our kind. From that old thing that commits great atrocities to . . . minor, horrible little things that exist just for their own pleasure, regardless of whom it hurts.
“Katherine wanted you to become a vampire. And look at the results. Do not weep overmuch for her, Stefan, or search for clues to her death or existence. Let her go. It is truly the best thing you can do.”
I turned my head away from her and looked toward the only star bright enough to shine through the cloud cover—the North Star. Katherine was like that star: fixed in place, a silent specter hanging above me, a benchmark against which to measure my progress. No matter my feelings toward her, she had made me, and she would be with me always.
“We’re not all evil,” I said, putting my arm around her. “You’re not.”
“I’m a lot older than you,” she said gently. “And who I am now isn’t who I’ve always been. You’re not the only one with things to atone for, Stefan. But I’ve made a vow to myself to be different.”
“Oh, ugh. Vows.” Damon stumbled onto deck loudly. “By Our Lord, haven’t we made enough vows for a lifetime?”
“The marriages were your idea, not mine,” I pointed out.
“Waah, wahh, I’m a vampire, I had a really great wedding, great champagne, my brother rescued me, and I’m still tortured.”
He bounced off the deck rails, palming the smooth wood and propelling himself back to the other side, port to starboard back and forth until he reached us. The untrained eye would have marked him as drunk, but there was a telltale crimson smear in the corner of his lips. He was drunk with our escape, with our rescue, with the lifeblood of some poor cabin boy—but not with drink. Not yet, at least.
“Yes, and speaking of rescues, Margaret . . .” I prompted.
Damon sighed. “When I confronted her about being able to withstand compulsion, Margaret admitted she was a witch and said she would help me.”
“Just like that?” I asked skeptically.
Damon rolled his eyes. “In return for us leaving New York and never coming back—in her lifetime, at least. And, this is the part that kills me, returning the dowries.”
“Aw, Damon. I’m so sorry,” Lexi said, her sparkling eyes belying her serious tone. “Your plan to fleece the rich didn’t work out. Better luck next time.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“We owe her our lives,” I said seriously. “She didn’t have to help us at all. By all rights, she shouldn’t have. The protection spell she cast around her and her husband—do you think it will really keep them safe?”
“I have to believe. Either way, she’s a better soul than you lot,” Lexi pronounced.
“And speaking of better souls . . .” I said, barely suppressing a smile, “what made you come back and rescue me? I thought you were hell-bent on ‘never forgiving me’ and ‘punishing me until the end of my days.’”
Damon’s blue eyes were veiled. “Yes. Well, I meant every word. I will never forgive you. I will torture your every living moment.”
I shook my head, tamping down the stirring of black rage inside me that wanted to shout to Damon that he may have lost the love of his life, but I lost a life that I loved. And a father, and a home.
And a brother.
But as quickly as the rage flowed in, it ebbed back out again, leaving me hollow. How could I expect my brother to forgive me for turning him into a vampire when I couldn’t forgive myself for it? He had once loved me, as I had once loved Katherine, but I would never, ever forgive her for making me what I was now.
Damon took me by the shoulders. “Besides,” he added, the corners of his lips turning up, “if anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”
Then, without another word, he leaped with vampiric speed to the deck rail itself, balancing without moving a muscle as the boat dipped and rocked in the water, as though he were the ship’s figurehead, carved in cold marble.
He lifted his hand in salute. “I’ll be seeing you, brother.”
Then, before I could even utter his name, he stepped off the rail and plunged into the dark water below.
I raced to the edge of the boat and looked at the churning water. But my brother didn’t resurface. Lexi and I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until we were so far from shore and sky that it felt as though we were suspended in blackness.
Then, when the sun finally peeked its red head over the watery horizon, we went inside the dimly lit cabin to face our future.
Epilogue
My time in New York clarified the perils of my existence; despite my good intentions, I am dangerous to humans, and my brother is dangerous to everyone.
And now? What does the future hold? My days seem to pass like minutes. I suppose this means I’m growing accustomed to the idea of eternity.
I have lost so much in the months since I became the creature I now am. But I have gained time. And with time, I gain opportunity. I will see Italy. And the rest of Europe. I will travel the whole world. But I will never make a home among humans again.
As for Damon . . . I believe our road together is long and our story is not over yet. Should one of us ever finally come to his doom, it will only be the other who causes it.
&
nbsp; And in the background . . . heralded by the faint perfume of lemon and ginger . . . will always be Katherine, laughing at both of us.
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The Hunters
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of the first volume, Phantom!
Elena Gilbert stepped onto a smooth expanse of grass, the spongy blades collapsing beneath her feet. Clusters of scarlet roses and violet delphiniums pushed up from the ground while a giant canopy hung above her, twinkling with glowing lanterns. On the terrace in front of her stood two curving white marble fountains that shot sprays of water high into the air. Everything was beautiful, and elegant, and somehow familiar.
This is Bloddeuwedd’s palace, a voice in her head said. But when she had been here last, the field had been crowded with laughing, dancing partygoers. They were gone now, though signs of their presence remained: empty glasses littering the tables set around the edges of the lawn, a silken shawl tossed over a chair, a lone high-heeled shoe perched on the edge of a fountain.
Something else was odd, too. Before, the scene had been lit by the hellish red light that illuminated everything in the Dark Dimension, turning blues to purples, whites to pinks, and pinks to the velvety color of blood. Now a clear white light shone over everything, and a full white moon sailed calmly overhead.
A whisper of movement came from behind her, and Elena realized with a start that she wasn’t alone after all. A dark figure was suddenly there, approaching her.
Damon.
Of course it was Damon, Elena thought with a smile. If anyone was going to appear unexpectedly before her, here, at what felt like the end of the world—or at least the hour after a good party had ended—it would be Damon. God, he was so beautiful. Black on black: soft black hair, eyes black as midnight, black jeans, and a smooth leather jacket.
As their eyes met, she was so glad to see him that she could hardly breathe. She threw herself into his embrace, clasping him around the neck. She felt the lithe, hard muscles in his arms and chest as he held her tight.
“Damon,” she said, her voice trembling for some reason. Her body was trembling, too, and Damon stroked her arms and shoulders, calming her.
“What is it, princess? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.” He smirked lazily at her, but his hands were strong and steady.
“I am afraid,” she answered.
“But what are you afraid of?”
That left her puzzled for a moment. Then, slowly, putting her cheek against his, she said, “I’m afraid that this is just a dream.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said into her ear. “You and I are the only real things here. It’s everything else that’s the dream.”
“Just you and I?” Elena echoed, an uneasy thought nagging at her, as though she was forgetting something—or someone. A fleck of ash landed on her dress, and she absently brushed it away.
“It’s just the two of us, Elena,” Damon said sharply. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We’ve always loved each other, since the beginning of time.”
Of course. That must be why she was trembling—it was joy. He was hers. She was his. They belonged together.
She whispered one word, “Yes.”
Then he kissed her.
His lips were soft as silk, and when the kiss deepened, she tilted her head back, exposing her throat, anticipating the double wasp-sting he’d delivered so many times.
When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes questioningly. The moon was bright as ever, and the scent of roses hung heavy in the air. But Damon’s chiseled features were pale under his dark hair, and more ash had landed on the shoulders of his jacket. All at once, the little doubts that had been niggling at her came into clear focus.
Oh, no. Oh, no.
“Damon,” she gasped, looking into his eyes despairingly as tears filled her own. “You can’t be here, Damon. You’re . . . dead.”
“For more than five hundred years, princess.” Damon flashed his blinding smile at her. “I don’t know why it’s such a shock to you.”
More ash was falling around them, like a fine gray rain. Like the ash Damon’s body was buried beneath, worlds and dimensions away.
“Damon, you’re . . . dead now. Not undead, but . . . gone.”
“No, Elena—”
“Yes. Yes! I held you as you died. . . .” Elena was sobbing helplessly. She couldn’t feel Damon’s arms at all now. He was disappearing into shimmering light.
“Listen to me, Elena—” She was holding moonlight. Anguish caught at her heart.
“All you need to do is call for me,” Damon’s voice said. “All you need . . .”
His voice faded into the sound of wind rustling through the trees. Elena’s eyes snapped open. The room was full of sunlight, and a huge crow was perched on the sill of her open window. A cloud must have gone over the sun; for a moment, the world was dim.
The crow tilted its head to one side and gave another croak, watching her with bright eyes.
A cold chill ran down her spine. “Damon?” she whispered.
But the crow just spread its wings and flew away.
About the Author
L.J. SMITH has written a number of bestselling books and series for young adults, including The Vampire Diaries (now a hit show on the CW), The Secret Circle, The Forbidden Game, and the #1 New York Times bestselling Dark Visions. She enjoys writing in a little cabin in Point Reyes, California, or walking on the beaches surrounding it. She loves to hear from readers at [email protected] and hopes they will visit her updated website, www.ljanesmith.net. She reads all her email and even answers what she can!
KEVIN WILLIAMSON is the show runner and executive producer of The Vampire Diaries. His credits include the critically acclaimed television series Dawson’s Creek and the blockbuster horror franchise Scream.
JULIE PLEC is the co–show runner and executive producer of The Vampire Diaries. She was most recently a writer-producer of the fan-favorite television series Kyle XY.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Books by L. J. Smith
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
VOL. I: THE AWAKENING
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
VOL. II: THE STRUGGLE
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
VOL. III: THE FURY
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
VOL. IV: DARK REUNION
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
THE RETURN VOL. 1: NIGHTFALL
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
THE RETURN VOL. 2: SHADOW SOULS
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
THE RETURN VOL. 3: MIDNIGHT
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 1: ORIGINS
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:
STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 2: BLOODLUST
THE SECRET CIRCLE:
THE INITIATION AND THE CAPTIVE PART I
THE SECRET CIRCLE:
THE CAPTIVE PART II AND THE POWER
Copyright
Stefan’s Diaries Vol. 3: The Craving
Copyright © 2011 by Alloy Entertainment and L. J. Smith
Produced by Alloy Entertainment,
151 West 26th Street, New York, New York 10001.
www.alloyentertainment.com
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-06-200395-9
EPub Edition © 2011 ISBN: 9780062077240
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First Edition
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