Stefan started to rise, but Elena waved him back down. He wouldn't have any use
for potato chips and punch. And she wanted to be alone for a few minutes, to be
moving instead of sitting, to calm herself.
Being with Meredith and Bonnie had given her a false sense of security. Leaving
them, she was once again confronted by sidelong glances and suddenly turned
backs. This time it made her angry. She moved through the crowd with deliberate
insolence, holding any eye she accidentally caught. I'm already notorious, she
thought. I might as well be brazen, too.
She was hungry. In the Ramsey dining room someone had set up an assortment
of finger foods that looked surprisingly good. Elena took a paper plate and dropped
a few carrot sticks on it, ignoring the people around the bleached oak table. She
wasn't going to speak to them unless they spoke first. She gave her full attention to
the refreshments, leaning past people to select cheese wedges and Ritz crackers,
reaching in front of them to pluck grapes, ostentatiously looking up and down the
whole array to see if there was anything she'd missed.
She'd succeeded in riveting everyone's attention, something she knew without
raising her eyes. She bit delicately down on a bread stick, holding it between her
teeth like a pencil, and turned from the table.
"Mind if I have a bite?"
Shock snapped her eyes wide open and froze her breath. Her mind jammed,
refusing to acknowledge what was going on, and leaving her helpless, vulnerable, in
the face of it. But though rational thought had disappeared, her senses went right on
recording mercilessly: dark eyes dominating her field of vision, a whiff of some kind
of cologne in her nostrils, two long fingers tilting her chin up. Damon leaned in, and,
neatly and precisely, bit off the other end of the bread stick.
In that moment, their lips were only inches apart. He was leaning in for a second
bite before Elena's wits revived enough to throw her backward, her hand grabbing
the bit of crisp bread and tossing it away. He caught it in midair, a virtuoso display
of reflex.
His eyes were still on hers. Elena got in a breath at last and opened her mouth; she
wasn't sure what for. To scream, probably. To warn all these people to run out into
the night. Her heart was pounding like a triphammer, her vision blurred.
"Easy, easy." He took the plate from her and then somehow got hold of her wrist.
He was holding it lightly, the way Mary had felt for Stefan's pulse. As she continued
to stare and gasp, he stroked it with his thumb, as if comforting her. "Easy. It's all
right."
What are you doing here? she thought. The scene around her seemed eerily
bright and unnatural. It was like one of those nightmares when everything is ordinary,
just like waking life, and then suddenly something grotesque happens. He was going
to kill them all.
"Elena? Are you okay?" Sue Carson was talking to her, gripping her shoulder.
"I think she choked on something," Damon said, releasing Elena's wrist. "But
she's all right now. Why don't you introduce us?"
He was going to kill them all…
"Elena, this is Damon, um…" Sue spread an apologetic hand, and Damon
finished for her.
"Smith." He lifted a paper cup toward Elena. "La vita."
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"He's a college student," Sue volunteered, when it became apparent that Damon
wasn't going to answer. "From—University of Virginia, was it? William and Mary?"
"Among other places," Damon said, still looking at Elena. He hadn't glanced at
Sue once. "I like to travel."
The world had snapped into place again around Elena, but it was a chilling world.
There were people on every side, watching this exchange with fascination, keeping
her from speaking freely. But they were also keeping her safe. For whatever reason,
Damon was playing a game, pretending to be one of them. And while the
masquerade went on, he wouldn't do anything to her in front of a crowd… she
hoped.
A game. But he was making up the rules. He was standing here in the Ramseys'
dining room playing with her.
"He's just down for a few days," Sue was continuing helpfully. "Visiting—friends,
did you say? Or relatives?"
"Yes," said Damon.
"You're lucky to be able to take off whenever you want," Elena said. She didn't
know what was possessing her, to make her try and unmask him.
"Luck has very little to do with it," said Damon. "Do you like dancing?"
"What's your major?"
He smiled at her. "American folklore. Did you know, for instance, that a mole on
the neck means you'll be wealthy? Do you mind if I check?"
"I mind." The voice came from behind Elena. It was clear and cold and quiet.
Elena had heard Stefan speak in that tone only once: when he had found Tyler trying
to assault her in the graveyard. Damon's fingers stilled on her throat, and, released
from his spell, she stepped back.
"But do you matter?" he said.
The two of them faced each other under the faintly flickering yellow Читать далее...

An unnatural twilight hung over the abandoned graveyard. Snow blurred Elena's
eyes, and the wind numbed her body as if she'd stepped into a current of ice water.
Nevertheless, stubbornly, she did not turn around toward the modern cemetery and
the road beyond it. As best she could judge, Wickery Bridge was straight in front of
her. She headed for that.
The police had found Stefan's abandoned car by Old Creek Road. That meant
he'd left it somewhere between Drowning Creek and the woods. Elena stumbled on
the overgrown path through the graveyard, but she kept moving, head down, arms
hugging her light sweater to her. She had known this graveyard all her life, and she
could find her way through it blind.
By the time she crossed the bridge, her shivering had become painful. It wasn't
snowing as hard now, but the wind was even worse. It cut through her clothes as if
they were made of tissue paper, and took her breath away.
Stefan, she thought, and turned onto Old Creek Road, trudging northward. She
didn't believe what Damon had said. If Stefan were dead she would know. He was
alive, somewhere, and she had to find him. He could be anywhere out in this swirling
whiteness; he could be hurt, freezing. Dimly, Elena sensed that she was no longer
rational. All her thoughts had narrowed down to one single idea. Stefan. Find Stefan.
It was getting harder to keep to the road. On her right were oak trees, on her left,
the swift waters of Drowning Creek. She staggered and slowed. The wind didn't
seem quite so bad any more, but she did feel very tired. She needed to sit down and
rest, just for a minute.
As she sank down beside the road, she suddenly realized how silly she had been
to go out searching for Stefan. Stefan would come to her. All she needed to do was
sit here and wait. He was probably coming right now.
Elena shut her eyes and leaned her head against her drawn-up knees. She felt
much warmer now. Her mind drifted and she saw Stefan, saw him smile at her. His
arms around her were strong and secure, and she relaxed against him, glad to let go
of fear and tension. She was home. She-was where she belonged. Stefan would
never let anything hurt her.
But then, instead of holding her, Stefan was shaking her. He was ruining the
beautiful tranquility of her rest. She saw his face, pale and urgent, his green eyes dark
with pain. She tried to tell him to be still, but he wouldn't listen. Elena, get up, he
said, and she felt the compelling force of those green eyes willing her to do it. Elena,
get up now—
"Elena, get up!" The voice was high and thin and frightened. "Come on, Elena!
Get up! We can't carry you!"
Blinking, Elena brought a face into focus. It was small and heart-shaped, with fair,
almost translucent skin, framed by masses of soft red curls. Wide brown eyes, with
snowflakes caught in the lashes, stared worriedly into hers.
"Bonnie," she said slowly. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping me look for you," said a second, lower voice on Elena's other side. She
turned slightly to see elegantly arched eyebrows and an olive complexion. Meredith's
dark eyes, usually so ironic, were worried now, too. "Stand up, Elena, unless you
want to become an ice princess for real."
There was snow all over her, like a white fur coat. Stiffly, Elena stood, leaning
heavily on the two other girls. They walked her back to Meredith's car.
It should have been warmer inside the car, but Elena's nerve endings were coming
back to life, making her shake, telling her how cold she really was. Winter is an
unforgiving season, she thought as Meredith drove.
"What's going on, Elena?" said Bonnie from the back seat. "What did you think
you were doing, running away from school like that? And how could you come out
here?"
Elena hesitated, then shook her head. She wanted nothing more than to tell Bonnie
and Meredith everything. To tell them the whole terrifying story about Stefan and
Damon and what had really happened last night to Mr. Tanner—and about after. But
she couldn't.
Even if they would believe her, it wasn't her secret to tell.
"Everyone's out looking for you," Meredith said. "The whole school's upset, and
your aunt was nearly frantic."
"Sorry," said Elena dully, trying to stop her violent shivering. They turned onto
Maple Street and pulled up to her house.
Aunt Judith was waiting inside with heated blankets. "I knew if they found you,
you'd be half-frozen," she said in a determinedly cheerful voice as she reached for
Elena. "Snow on the day after Halloween! I can hardly believe it. Where did you girls
find her?"
"On Old Creek Road, past the bridge," said Meredith.
Aunt Judith's thin face lost color. "Near the graveyard? Where the attacks were?
Elena, how could you?…" Her voice trailed off as she looked at Elena. "We won't
say anything more about it right now," she said, trying to regain her cheerful manner.
"Let's get you out of those wet clothes."
"I have to go back once I'm Читать далее...

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