Dark Reunion

"No!" Vickie twisted back and forth as if trying to escape something. "No! I can’t -"

"Vickie, calm down. He won’t hurt you. He can’t see you, but you can see him. Listen to me."

As Stefan spoke, Vickie’s whimpers quieted. But she still thrashed and writhed.

"You need to see him, Vickie. Help us fight him. What does he look like?"

"He looks like the devil!"

It was almost a scream. Meredith sat on Vickie’s other side and took her hand. She looked out through the window at Bonnie, who looked back wide eyed and shrugged slightly. Bonnie had no idea what Vickie was talking about.

"Tell me more," Stefan said evenly.

Vickie’s mouth twisted. Her nostrils were flared as if she were smelling something awful. When she spoke, she got out each word separately, as if they were making her sick.

"He wears… an old raincoat. It flaps around his legs in the wind. He makes the wind blow. His hair is blond. Almost white. It stands up all over his head. His eyes are so blue-electric blue." Vickie licked her lips and swallowed, looking nauseated. "Blue is the color of death."

Thunder rumbled and cracked in the sky. Damon glanced up quickly, then frowned, eyes narrowed.

"He’s tall. And he’s laughing. He’s reaching for me, laughing. But Sue screams ‘No, no’ and tries to pull me away. So he takes her instead. The window’s broken, and the balcony is right there. Sue’s crying ‘No, please.’ And then I watch him-I watch him throw her…" Vickie’s breath was hitching, her voice rising hysterically.

"Oh, please, no-Sue! Sue! Sue!"

"Vickie, stay with me. Listen. I need just one more thing. Look at him. Tell me if he’s wearing a blue jewel-"

But Vickie was whipping her head back and forth, sobbing, more hysterical each second. "No! No! I’m next! I’m next!" Suddenly, her eyes sprang open as she came out of the trance by herself, choking and gasping. Then her head jerked around.

On the wall, a picture was rattling.

It was picked up by the bamboo-framed mirror, then by perfume bottles and lipsticks on the dresser below. With a sound like popcorn, earrings began bursting from an earring tree. The rattling got louder and louder. A straw hat fell off a hook. Photos were showering down from the mirror. Tapes and CDs sprayed out of a rack and onto the floor like playing cards being dealt.

Meredith was on her feet and so was Matt, fists clenched.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" Vickie cried wildly.

But it didn’t stop. Matt and Meredith looked around as new objects joined the dance. Everything movable was shaking, jittering, swaying. It was as if the room were caught in an earthquake.

"Stop! Stop!" shrieked Vickie, her hands over her ears.

Directly above the house thunder exploded.

Bonnie jumped violently as she saw the zigzag of lightning shoot across the sky. Instinctively she grabbed for something to hang on to. As the lightning bolt flared a poster on Vickie’s wall tore diagonally as if slashed by a phantom knife. Bonnie choked back a scream and clutched tighter.

Then, as quickly as if someone had flicked a power switch off, all the noise stopped.

Vickie’s room was still. The fringe on the bedside lamp swayed slightly. The poster had curled up in two irregular pieces, top and bottom. Slowly, Vickie lowered her hands from her ears.

Matt and Meredith looked around rather shakily.

Bonnie shut her eyes and murmured something like a prayer. It wasn’t until she opened them again that she realized what she had been hanging on to. It was the supple coolness of a leather jacket. It was Damon’s arm.

He hadn’t moved away from her, though. He didn’t move now. He was leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed, watching the room intently.

"Look at the mirror," he said.

On the glass surface of the bamboo mirror two words were scrawled in Vickie’s hot coral lipstick.

Goodnight, Sweetheart.

"Oh, God," Bonnie whispered.

Stefan turned from the mirror to Vickie. There was something different about him, Bonnie thought-he was holding himself relaxed but poised, like a soldier who’s just gotten confirmation of a battle. It was as if he’d accepted a personal challenge of some kind.

He took something out of his back pocket and unfolded it, revealing sprigs of a plant with long green leaves and tiny lilac flowers.

"This is vervain, fresh vervain," he said quietly, his voice even and intense. "I picked it outside Florence; it’s blooming there now." He took Vickie’s hand and pressed the packet into it. "I want you to hold on to this and keep it. Put some in every room of the house, and hide pieces somewhere in your parents’ clothes if you can, so they’ll have it near them. As long as you have this with you, he can’t take over your mind. He can scare you, Vickie, but he can’t make you do anything, like open a window or door for him. And listen, Vickie, because this is important."

Vickie was shivering, her face crumpled. Stefan took both her hands and made her look at him, speaking slowly and distinctly.

"If I’m right, Vickie, he can’t get in unless you let him. So talk to your parents. Tell them it’s important that they don’t ask any stranger inside the house. In fact, I can have Damon put that suggestion in their mind right now." He glanced at Damon, who shrugged slightly and nodded, looking as if his attention was somewhere else. Self-consciously, Bonnie removed her hand from his jacket.

Vickie’s head was bent over the vervain.

"He’ll get in somehow," she said softly, with terrible certainty.

"No. Vickie, listen to me. From now on, we’re going to watch your house; we’re going to be waiting for him."

"It doesn’t matter," Vickie said. "You can’t stop him." She began to laugh and cry at the same time.