Moonsong (20 page)

“Seems like the party’s wrapping up,” she said, as they hit the first floor. It was real y getting late, almost two o’clock. There were only a few groups of hard-core partiers left: a bunch of frat boys by the keg, some theater-department girls dancing with great wide swoops of their arms, a couple sitting hand in hand at the bottom of the stairs in deep conversation. Meredith, Stefan, Samantha, and Matt had disappeared, and if Elena had ever shown up, she had left, too. Zander’s friends had gone, or been kicked out.

“Good-bye, good-bye,” Bonnie caroled to the few people who remained. She hadn’t real y gotten a chance to talk to any of them, but they al looked perfectly nice. Maybe next time she went to a party, she’d stay longer and real y bond with people she hadn’t met before.

Look at al the new friends her friends had made on campus. Bonnie gave a special wave to a couple of people she’d seen Matt with lately—a shortish guy whose name she thought was Ethan and that girl with the dark curls and dimples. Not freshmen. She loved everyone tonight, but they deserved it most, because they had seen what a wonderful guy Matt was. They waved back at her, a little hesitantly, and the girl smiled, her dimples deepening.

“They seem real y nice,” Bonnie told Zander, and he glanced back at them as he opened the door.

“Hmmm,” he said noncommittal y, and the look in his eyes, just for a minute, made Bonnie shiver.

“Aren’t they?” she said nervously. Zander looked away from them, back toward her, and his warm bril iant smile spread across his face. Bonnie relaxed; the coldness she’d seen in Zander’s eyes must have been just a trick of the light.

“Of course they are, Bonnie,” he said. “I just got distracted for a sec.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pul ing her close, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. She sighed contentedly, cuddling up against his side.

They walked together companionably for a while. “Look at the stars,” Bonnie said softly. The night was clear and the stars hung bright in the sky. “It’s because it’s starting to get colder at night that we can see them so wel .” Zander didn’t answer, only made a hmming sound deep in his throat again, and Bonnie glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you want to get breakfast with me in the morning?” she asked. “On Sundays, the cafeteria does make-your-own waffles, with lots of different toppings.

Delicious.”

Zander was staring off into the distance with that same half-listening expression he had the last time they walked across campus together. “Zander?” Bonnie asked cautiously, and he frowned down at her, biting his lip thoughtful y.

“Sorry,” he said. He took his arm off of Bonnie’s shoulders and backed away a few steps, smiling stiffly. His whole body was tense, as if he was about to take off running.

“Zander?” she asked again, confused.

“I forgot something,” Zander said, avoiding her eyes. “I have to go back to the party.”

“Oh. I’l come with you,” Bonnie offered.

“No, that’s okay.” Zander was shifting from foot to foot, glancing over Bonnie’s shoulders as if, suddenly, he’d rather be anywhere than with her. Abruptly, he surged forward and kissed her awkwardly, their teeth knocking together, and then he stepped backward and turned, walking in the other direction. His strides lengthened, and soon he was running away from her, disappearing into the night. Again. He didn’t look back.

Bonnie, suddenly alone, shivered and looked around, peering into the darkness on al sides. She had been so happy a minute ago, and now she felt cold and dismayed, as if she had been hit with a splash of freezing cold water.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said aloud.

Elena was shaking so hard that Damon was afraid she might just shake herself apart. He wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, and she glanced up at him without real y seeming to see him, her eyes glassy.

“Stefan…” she moaned softly, and Damon had to fight down a sharp stab of irritation. So Stefan was overreacting.

What else was new? Damon was here, Damon was with her and supporting her, and Elena needed to realize that.

He was tempted to grab Elena firmly by the chin and make her real y look at him.

In the old days, he would have done just that. Hel , in the old days, he would have sent a blast of Power at Elena until she was docile in his hands, until she didn’t even remember Stefan’s name. His canines prickled longingly just thinking of it. Her blood was like wine.

Not that expecting Elena to give in to his Power meekly had ever worked particularly wel , he admitted to himself, his mouth curling into a smile.

But he wasn’t like that anymore. And he didn’t want her that way. He was trying so hard, although he hated to admit it even to himself, to be worthy of Elena. To be worthy of Stefan, even, if it came right down to it. It had been comforting to final y have his baby brother looking at him with something other than hatred and disgust.

Wel , that was over. The tentative truce, the beginnings of friendship, the brotherhood, whatever it had been between him and Stefan, was gone.

“Come on, princess,” he murmured to Elena, helping her up the stairs toward her door. “Just a little farther.” He couldn’t be sorry they kissed. She was so beautiful, so alive and vibrant in his arms. And she tasted so good.

And he loved her, he did, as far as his hard heart was capable of it. His mouth curled again, and he could taste his own bitterness. Elena was never going to be his, was she? Even when Stefan turned his back on her, the self-righteous idiot, he was al she thought about. Damon’s free hand, the one that wasn’t cupping Elena’s shoulder protectively, tightened into a fist.

They’d reached Elena’s room, and Damon fished in her purse for her keys, unlocking the door for her.

“Damon,” she said, turning in the doorway to look him straight in the eyes for the first time since before Stefan caught them kissing. She looked pale stil , but resolute, her mouth a straight line. “Damon, it was a mistake.” Damon’s heart dropped like a stone, but he held her gaze. “I know,” he said, his voice steady. “Everything wil work out in the end, princess, you’l see.” He forced his lips to turn up in a reassuring, supportive smile. The smile of a friend.

Then Elena was gone, the door to her room shutting firmly behind her.

Damon spun in his tracks, cursing, and kicked at the wal behind him. It cracked, and he kicked it again with a sour satisfaction at the feeling of the plaster splitting.

There was a muted grumbling coming from behind the other doors on the floor, and Damon could hear footsteps approaching, someone coming to investigate the noise. If he had to deal with anyone now, he’d probably kil him. That wouldn’t be a good idea, no matter how much he might enjoy it for the moment, not with Elena right here.

Launching himself toward an open hal window, Damon smoothly transitioned to a crow in midair. It was a relief to stretch his wings, to pick up the rhythm of flying and feel the breeze against his feathers, lifting and supporting him. He flew through the window with a few strong beats of his wings and flung himself out into the night. Catching the wind, he soared recklessly high despite the darkness of the night. He needed the rush of the wind against his body, needed the distraction.

25

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe what a fool I am, what a faithless, worthless fool.

I should never have kissed Damon, or let him kiss me.

The look on Stefan’s face when he found us was heartbreaking. His features were so stiff and pale, as if he was made of ice, and his eyes were shining with tears. And then it seemed like a light went out inside him, and he looked at me like he hated me.

Like I was Katherine. No matter what happened between us, Stefan never looked at me like that before.

I won’t believe it. Stefan could never hate me.

Every beat of my heart tells me that we belong together, that nothing can tear us apart.

I’ve been such a fool, and I’ve hurt Stefan, although that was the one thing I never wanted to do. But this isn’t the end for us. Once I apologize and explain what a moment of madness he witnessed, he’ll forgive me. Once I can touch him again, he’ll see how sorry I am.

It was only the adrenaline from coming so close to death, from that car chasing after us. Neither Damon nor I really wanted the other one, that kiss was just us clinging hard to life.

No. I can’t lie. Not here. I have to be honest with myself, even if I pretend with everyone else. I wanted to kiss Damon. I wanted to touch Damon. I always have.

But I don’t have to. I can stop myself, and I will. I don’t want to cause Stefan any more pain.

Stefan will understand that, will understand that I’ll do anything I can to make him happy again, and then he’ll forgive me.

This can’t be the end. I won’t let it be.

Elena closed her journal and dialed Stefan’s number once more, letting the phone ring until it went to voicemail and then hanging up. She’d cal ed him several times last night, then over and over again this morning. Stefan could see her cal ing, she knew. He always kept his phone on. He always answered, too; he seemed to feel some obligation to be available since he had the phone with him.

The fact that he wasn’t answering meant he was avoiding her on purpose.

Elena shook her head fiercely and dialed again. Stefan was going to listen to her. She wasn’t going to let him turn her away. Once she explained and he forgave her, everything could go back to normal. They could end this separation that was making them both so unhappy—

clearly, it hadn’t worked out the way she intended.

Except, what exactly was she going to say? Elena sighed and flopped down backward onto her bed, her heart sinking. Adrenaline from the car’s pursuit aside, al she could real y say was that she hadn’t meant for the kiss with Damon to happen, that she didn’t want him, not real y. She wanted Stefan. Al she could tel him was that it wasn’t something she had expected or planned. That Damon wasn’t the one she wanted. Not truly. That she would always choose Stefan.

That would have to be enough. Elena dialed again.

This time, Stefan picked up.

“Elena,” he said flatly.

“Stefan, please listen to me,” Elena said in a rush. “I’m so sorry. I never—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Stefan said, cutting her off. “Please stop cal ing me.”

“But, please, Stefan—”

“I love you, but…” Stefan’s voice was soft but cold. “I don’t think we can be together. Not if I can’t trust you.” The line went dead. Elena pul ed the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment, puzzled, before she realized what had happened. Stefan, dear, darling Stefan who had always been there for her, who loved her no matter what she did, had hung up on her.

Meredith pul ed one foot up behind her back, held it in both hands, breathed deep, and slowly pul ed the foot higher, stretching her quadriceps muscle.

It felt good to stretch, to get a little blood flowing after her late night. She was looking forward to sparring with Samantha. There was a new move Meredith had figured out, a little something kickboxing inspired, that she thought Sam was going to love, once she got over the shock of being knocked down by Meredith once again. Samantha had been getting faster and more sure of herself as they kept working out together, and Meredith definitely wanted to keep her on her toes.

That was, it would be terrific to spar with Samantha, if Samantha ever actual y arrived. Meredith glanced at her watch. Sam was almost twenty minutes late.

Of course, they’d been out late the night before. But stil , it wasn’t like Samantha not to show up when she said she was going to. Meredith turned on her phone to see if she had a message, then cal ed Samantha. No answer.

Meredith left a quick voicemail, then hung up and went back to stretching, trying to ignore the faint quiver of unease running through her. She circled her shoulders, stretched her arms behind her back.

Maybe Samantha just forgot and had her phone turned off. Maybe she overslept. Samantha was a hunter; she wasn’t in danger from whoever—or whatever—was stalking the campus.

Sighing, Meredith gave up on her workout routine. She wasn’t going to be able to focus until she checked on Samantha, even though the other girl was probably fine.

Undoubtedly fine. Scooping up her backpack, she headed for the door. She could get in a run on the way over.

The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and Meredith’s feet pounded the paths in a regular rhythm as she wove between people wandering around campus. By the time she reached Samantha’s dorm, she was thinking that maybe Sam would want to go for a nice long run with her instead of sparring today.

She tapped on Samantha’s door, cal ing, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” The door, not latched, drifted open a little.

“Samantha?” Meredith said, pushing it open farther.

The smel hit her first. Like rust and salt, with an underlying odor of decay, it was so strong Meredith staggered backward, clapping a hand over her nose and mouth.

Despite the smel , Meredith couldn’t at first understand what was al over the wal s. Paint? she wondered, her brain feeling sluggish and slow. Why would Samantha be painting? It was so red. She walked through the door slowly, although something in her was starting to scream.

No, no, get away.

Blood. Bloodbloodbloodblood. Meredith wasn’t feeling slow and sluggish anymore: her heart was pounding, her head was spinning, her breath was coming hard and fast.

There was death in this room.

She had to see. She had to see Samantha. Despite every nerve in her body urging her to run, to fight, Meredith kept moving forward.

Samantha lay on her back, the bed beneath her soaked red with blood. She looked like she had been ripped apart.

Her open eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, unblinking.

She was dead.

26

“Are you sure you don’t want us to cal your parents, miss?” The campus security officer’s voice was gruff but kind, and his eyes were worried.

For a second, Meredith let herself picture having the kind of parents he must be imagining: ones who would swoop in to rescue their daughter, wrap her up and take her home until the horrible images of her friend’s death faded.