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 light of the
brass chandelier.
Elena was aware of layers of her own thoughts, like a parfait. Everyone's staring;
this must be better than the movies… I didn't realize Stefan was taller… There's
Bonnie and Meredith wondering what's going on… Stefan's angry but he's still weak,
still hurting… If he goes for Damon now, he'll lose…
And in front of all these people. Her thoughts came to a clattering halt as
everything fell into place. That was what Damon was here for, to make Stefan attack
him, apparently unprovoked. No matter what happened after that, he won. If Stefan
drove him away, it would just be more proof of Stefan's "tendency toward
violence." More evidence for Stefan's accusers. And if Stefan lost the fight…
It would mean his life, thought Elena. Oh, Stefan, he's so much stronger right
now; please don't do it. Don't play into his hands.
He wants to kill you; he's just looking for a chance.
She made her limbs move, though they were stiff and awkward as a marionette's.
"Stefan," she said, taking his cold hand in hers, "let's go home."
She could feel the tension in his body, like an electric current running underneath
his skin. At this moment, he was completely focused on Damon, and the light in his
eyes was like fire reflecting off a dagger blade. She didn't recognize him in this
mood, didn't know him. He frightened her.
"Stefan," she said, calling to him as if she were lost in fog and couldn't find him.
"Stefan, please."
And slowly, slowly, she felt him respond. She heard him breathe and felt his body
go off alert, clicking down to some lower energy level. The deadly concentration of
his mind was diverted and he looked at her, and saw her.
"All right," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Let's go."
She kept her hands on him as they turned away, one clasping his hand, the other
tucked inside his arm. By sheer force of will, she managed not to look over her
shoulder as they walked away, but the skin on her back tingled and crawled as if
expecting the stab of a knife.
Instead, she heard Damon's low ironical voice: "And have you heard that kissing a
red-haired girl cures fever blisters?" And then Bonnie's outrageous, flattered laughter.
On the way out, they finally ran into their host.
"Leaving so soon?" Alaric said. "But I haven't even had a chance to talk to you
yet."
He looked both eager and reproachful, like a dog that knows perfectly well it's not
going to be taken on a walk but wags anyway. Elena felt worry blossom in her
stomach for him and everyone else in the house. She and Stefan were leaving them
to Damon.
She'd just have to hope her earlier assessment was right and he wanted to
continue the masquerade. Right now she had enough to do getting Stefan out of here
before he changed his mind.
"I'm not feeling very well," she said as she picked up her purse where it lay by the
ottoman. "Sorry." She increased the pressure on Stefan's arm. It would take very
little to get him to turn back and head for the dining room right now.
"I'm sorry," said Alaric. "Good-bye."
They were on the threshold before she saw the little slip of violet paper stuck into
the side pocket of her purse. She pulled it out and unfolded it almost by reflex, her
mind on other things.
There was writing on it, plain and bold and unfamiliar. Just three lines. She read
them and felt the world rock. This was too much; she couldn't deal with anything
more.
"What is it?" said Stefan.
"Nothing." She thrust the bit of paper back into the side pocket, pushing it down
with her fingers. "It's nothing, Stefan. Let's get outside."
They stepped out into driving needles of rain.

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 dry," said Elena. Her brain was working again, and
one thing was clear: she hadn't really seen Stefan out there; it had been a dream.
Stefan was still missing.
"You have to do nothing of the kind," said Robert, Aunt Judith's fiancé. Elena
had scarcely noticed him standing off to one side until then. But his tone brooked no
argument. "The police are looking for Stefan; you leave them to their job," he said.
"The police think he killed Mr. Tanner. But he didn't. You know that, don't you?"
As Aunt Judith pulled her sodden outer sweater off, Elena looked from one face to
another for help, but they were all the same. "You know he didn't do it," she
repeated, almost desperately.
There was a silence. "Elena," Meredith said at last, "no one wants to think he did.
But— well, it looks bad, his running away like this."
"He didn't run away. He didn't! He didn't—"
"Elena, hush," said Aunt Judith. "Don't get yourself worked up. I think you must
be getting sick. It was so cold out there, and you got only a few hours of sleep last
night…" She laid a hand on Elena's cheek.
Suddenly it was all too much for Elena. Nobody believed her, not even her friends
and family. At that moment, she felt surrounded by enemies.
"I'm not sick," she cried, pulling away.
"And I'm not crazy, either—whatever you think. Stefan didn't run away and he
didn't kill Mr. Tanner, and I don't care if none of you believes me…" She stopped,
choking. Aunt Judith was fussing around her, hurrying her upstairs, and she let
herself be hurried. But she wouldn't go to bed when Aunt Judith suggested she must
be tired. Instead, once she had warmed up, she sat on the living room couch by the
fireplace, with blankets heaped around her. The phone rang all afternoon, and she
heard Aunt Judith talking to friends, neighbors, the school. She assured all of them
that Elena was fine. The… the tragedy last night had unsettled her a bit, that was all,
and she seemed a little feverish. But she'd be good as new after a rest.
Meredith and Bonnie sat beside her. "Do you want to talk?" Meredith said in a
low voice. Elena shook her head, staring into the fire. They were all against her. And
Aunt Judith was wrong; she wasn't fine. She wouldn't be fine until Stefan was found.
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."

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