Moonsong (32 page)

Nearby, Elena laid her hand tentatively on Stefan’s arm, and they both had their eyes on Bonnie. Damon stood stil , watching them al with an almost fond expression.

Matt leaned against Meredith, comforted. No matter what happened, at least they were together. His true friends were with him; he had come home to them at last.

The sun was low in the east when Bonnie climbed up the fire escape, her feet clanging on each step. As she came over the side of the building, she saw Zander sitting with his back against the rough concrete wal at the edge of the roof. He turned to stare at her as she came toward him.

“Hi,” she said. She’d been so excited to see him on her way over here, enough so that Elena and Meredith got over their guilt and started to laugh at her, but now she felt weird and uncomfortable, like her head was too big. It was, she realized, total y possible that he wouldn’t want to talk to her.

After al , she’d accused him of being a murderer, which was a pretty big mistake for a girlfriend to make.

“Hi,” he said slowly. There was a long pause, and then he patted the concrete next to him. “Want to sit down?” he asked. “I’m just watching the sky.” He hesitated. “Ful moon in a couple of days.”

Mentioning the ful moon felt like a chal enge, and Bonnie settled next to him, then squeezed her hands together and jumped right in. “I’m sorry I cal ed you a kil er,” she said. “I know now that I was wrong to accuse you of being responsible for the deaths on campus. I should have trusted you more. Please accept my apology,” she finished in a little rush. “Because I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Zander said. “And I understand it was a shock.”

“Seriously, though, Zander,” Bonnie said, and shoved him a little with her hip. “You just tel me you’re a werewolf?

Did you get bitten when you were a kid or something?

Because I know getting bitten is the only way to become a werewolf without kil ing someone. And, okay, I know you’re not the kil er now, but Meredith saw you with a girl who’d just been attacked. And … and you had bruises, real y bad bruises everywhere. I think I had every right to think something was hinky with you.”

“Hinky?” Zander laughed a little, but there was an edge of sadness to it, Bonnie thought. “I guess it’s kind of hinky, if you want to put it that way.”

“Can you explain?” Bonnie asked.

“Okay, I’l try,” Zander said thoughtful y. He reached down and took her hand, turning it over in his and playing with her fingers, pul ing them lightly. “As you apparently know, most werewolves are created either by being bitten, or by having the werewolf virus in their family and activating it by kil ing someone in a special ritual. So, either a terrible attack, which usual y screws the victim up, or a deliberate act of evil to grab the power of the wolf.” He grimaced. “It kind of explains why werewolves have such a bad reputation. But there’s another kind of werewolf.” He glanced at Bonnie with a sort of shy pride. “I come from the Original pack of werewolves.” Original. Bonnie’s mind raced. Immortal, she thought, and remembered Klaus, who had never been a human. “So

… you’re real y old, then?” she asked hesitantly.

It was fine, she guessed, for Elena to date guys who had seen centuries go by. Romantic, even. Sort of.

Despite the crush she’d had on Damon, though, Bonnie always pictured dating someone close to her own age.

Even Meredith’s cute, smart Alaric seemed kind of old to her, and he was only in his twenties.

Zander snorted with sudden laughter and squeezed her hand tight. “No!” he said. “I just turned twenty last month!

Werewolves aren’t like that—we’re alive. We live, we die.

We’re like everybody else, we just…”

“Turn into superstrong, superfast wolves,” Bonnie said tartly.

“Yeah, fine,” Zander said. “Point taken. Anyway, the Original pack is like, the original family of werewolves. Most werewolves are infected by some kind of mystical virus. It can be passed down, but it’s dormant. The Original pack is descended from the very first werewolves, the ones that were cavemen except during the ful moon. It’s in our genes.

We’re different from regular werewolves. We can stop ourselves from changing if we need to. We can learn to change when the moon’s not ful , too, although it’s difficult.”

“If you can stop yourself from changing, do some of you stop being werewolves?” Bonnie asked.

Zander pul ed her closer. “We would never stop being werewolves, even if we never changed at al . It’s who we are. And it hurts to not change when the moon is ful . It’s like it sings to us, and the song gets louder and clearer the closer it gets to being ful . We’re aching to change by the time it happens.”

“Wow,” said Bonnie. Then her eyes widened. “So, al your friends are members of the Original pack, too? Like, you’re al related?”

“Um,” Zander said. “I guess. But the relationship can go back pretty far—it’s not like we’re al first cousins or anything.”

“Weird,” Bonnie said. “Okay, Original pack, got it.” She snuggled her head comfortably against Zander’s shoulder.

“Tel me the rest.”

“Okay,” Zander said again. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and wrapped one arm around Bonnie. It was getting a little cold sitting on the concrete, and she nestled grateful y against the warmth of his side. “So, Dalcrest is on what’s sort of a hot spot for paranormal activity. There’s these things cal ed ley lines, see…”

“Already know it,” Bonnie said briskly. “Go on with your part.”

Zander stared at her. “O … kay,” he said slowly.

“Anyway, the High Wolf Council sends some of us to Dalcrest every year as students. So that we can monitor any dangers. We’re kind of like watchdogs, I guess. The original watchdogs.”

Bonnie snorted. “The High Wolf Council.” Zander poked her in the ribs.

“Shut up, it’s not funny,” he said. “They’re very important.” Bonnie giggled again, and he elbowed her gently. “So, with al the disappearances and attacks, things have been bad on campus this year,” he continued, sobering. “Much worse than they usual y are. We’ve been investigating. A pack of vampires in a secret society on campus is behind it, and we’ve been fighting them off and protecting people when we can. But we’re not as strong as they are, except at the ful moon, even if we change. And so the bruises. And your friend seeing me guarding a girl who’d just been attacked.”

“Don’t worry. We took care of the Vitale Society tonight,” Bonnie said smugly. “Wel , the leader at least, and some of the others,” she amended. “There’s stil a bunch of vampires on campus, but we’l get rid of them.” Zander turned and stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. “I think,” he said at last in a careful y neutral voice, “that it’s your turn to explain.” Bonnie wasn’t actual y that great at properly organized, logical explanations, but she did her best, going back and forth in time, adding side notes and remembering things as she went along. She told him about Stefan and Damon, and how everything had changed when the vampire brothers came to Fel ’s Church last year and Elena fel in love with them. She told him about Meredith’s sacred duty as a vampire hunter, and she told him about her own psychic visions and her training as a witch.

She left a lot of stuff out—everything about the Dark Dimension, and Elena’s bargain with the Guardians, for instance, because that was real y confusing, and maybe she should tel him about it later so he didn’t just overload—

but the tel ing stil took a long time.

“Huh,” Zander said when she was finished, and then he laughed.

“What?” Bonnie asked.

“You’re a weird girl,” Zander said. “Pretty heroic, though.”

Bonnie pushed her face into his neck, happily breathing in the essential Zander smel of him: fabric softener, worn cotton, and clean guy.

“You’re weird,” she said, and then, admiringly, “and the real hero. You’ve been fighting off vampire attacks for weeks and weeks, to protect everybody.”

“We’re quite a pair,” Zander said.

“Yeah,” Bonnie said. She sat up and faced him, then reached out and ran her hand through his soft pale hair, pul ing his head closer to her. “Stil ,” she said, just before their lips touched, “normal is overrated.” 42

Elena, Stefan, and Damon headed toward Elena’s dorm together, and tension thrummed sharply between them.

Elena had taken Stefan’s hand automatical y as they walked, and he had stiffened and then gradual y relaxed, so that now his hand felt natural in hers.

Things weren’t back the way they had been between them, not yet. But Stefan’s green eyes were ful of a shy affection when they looked at her, and Elena knew she could make things right. Something had shifted in Stefan when Damon came to rescue him, when Elena untied him and told him how sorry she was. Maybe Stefan just needed to know that whatever was between her and Damon, he was first for her. No one was shutting him out.

Elena unlocked her door, and they al went inside. It had been only a few hours since she was last there, but so much had happened that it seemed like somewhere from a long time ago, the posters and clothes and Bonnie’s teddy bear al relics of a lost civilization.

“Oh, Stefan,” Elena said, “I’m so glad that you’re safe.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him and, just like when she took his hand, he tensed for a moment before hugging her back.

“I’m glad that both of you are safe,” she amended, and looked at Damon. His black eyes met hers cool y, and she knew that, without their having to discuss it, he understood that things weren’t going to go on the way they had been.

She loved Stefan. She had chosen.

When Stefan told them of Ethan’s plan to take both of the brothers’ blood and use it to resurrect Klaus, she was horrified. Not just because of the danger Stefan had been in, or because of the terrifying idea of Klaus alive again, and no doubt vengeful against them, but because of the trap Ethan had laid for Damon. He had planned to take the best of Damon—the reluctant, often marred, but stil strong love he had for his brother—and use it to destroy him.

“I’m eternal y glad you’re both okay,” she said again, and reached out to hug Damon, too.

Damon came into her arms wil ingly, but, as she squeezed him tightly, he winced.

“What’s wrong?” Elena asked, puzzled, and Damon frowned.

“Ethan cut me,” he said, the frown turning into a grimace of pain. “I’m just a little sore.” He tugged at his shirt, fingering a torn edge, and pul ed it up, exposing a swath of pale taut skin. Against the white skin Elena saw the long cut was already healing.

“It’s nothing,” Damon said. He shot Elena a wicked smile. “A little drink from a wil ing donor and I’l be as good as new, I promise.”

She shook her head at him reprovingly, but didn’t answer.

“Good night, Elena,” Stefan said, and brushed her cheek gently with the back of his hand. “Good morning, real y, I guess, but try to get some sleep.”

“Are you going after the vampires?” she asked anxiously. “Be careful.” Damon laughed.

“I’l make sure he takes care with the nasty vampires,” he said. “Poor Elena. Normal life isn’t going so wel , is it?” Elena sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Damon would never understand why she wanted to be an ordinary person. He thought of her as his dark princess, wanted her to be like him, to be better than ordinary people. Stefan didn’t think she was a dark princess; he thought she was a human being.

But was she? She thought briefly of tel ing them about the Guardians and the secrets of her birth, but she just couldn’t. Not right now. Not yet. Damon wouldn’t know why it upset her. And Stefan was so pale and tired after his ordeal with the vervain-soaked ropes that she couldn’t bring herself to burden him with her fears about the Guardians.

As she thought this, Stefan staggered, just a fraction, and Damon reached out automatical y to steady him.

“Thank you,” Stefan said, “For coming to save me. Both of you.”

“I’l always save you, little brother,” Damon said, but he was looking at Elena, and she heard the echo of when he had said the same words to her. “Even though I might be better off without you,” Damon added.

Stefan gave a tired smile. “Time to go,” he said.

“I love you, Stefan.” Elena brushed her lips against his softly.

Damon gave her a brief nod, his face neutral. “Sleep wel ,” he said.

Then the door was closed behind her, and Elena was alone. Her bed had never looked more comfortable or inviting, and she lay down with a sigh, looking up at the soft light that was beginning to break through the window.

The Vitale Society was gone. Ethan’s plan had been stopped. The campus was safer, and a new day was dawning. Stefan had forgiven her, and Damon didn’t leave, didn’t turn against them.

It was, for now, the best she could hope for. Elena closed her eyes and fel wil ingly asleep at last. Tomorrow would be another day.

Ethan gasped, sucking in a long breath of air, and coughed his way awake, his whole body shaking.

Everything hurt.

Gingerly, he patted himself down, finding that he was sticky with half-dried blood, covered with a score of smal injuries. Reaching up, he felt the already healing indentation in his back with delicate fingers. The stave the girl had thrust into him had brushed his heart, but it hadn’t pierced it.

A half centimeter to one side, and he would have been dead. Real y dead, this time, not undead.

Grabbing hold of a velvet-covered chair with one hand, Ethan pul ed himself to his feet and looked around. His lieutenants in the Vitale Society, his friends, lay dead on the floor. The Salvatore brothers, and the girls who were with them, had escaped.

Nervously, he felt in one pocket and sighed in relief as his hand closed on a smal vial. Pul ing it out, he looked at the thick red liquid within. Stefan Salvatore’s blood. He fished in the same pocket and drew out a cloth bearing a long reddish-brown stain. Damon Salvatore’s blood.

He had what he needed.

Klaus would rise again.

About the Author

L. J. SMITH has written a number of bestsel ing books and series for young adults, including The Vampire Diaries (now a hit TV show), The Secret Circle, The Forbidden Game, Night World, and the #1 New York Times bestsel ing Dark Visions. She is happiest sitting by a crackling fire in a cabin in Point Reyes, California, or walking the beaches that surround that area. She loves to hear from readers and hopes they wil visit her updated website at www.ljanesmith.net.