Origins (Page 45)

I walked around the back and heard voices coming from the porch. Immediately, I dove under the hedges. Hidden by the leaves, I crawled on my hands and knees against the wall until I came to the bay window that looked into the porch. Peering in, I made out the shadow of my father. A single candle cast weak beams of light around the room, and I noticed that Alfred wasn’t in his normal spot sitting at the door, ready to instantly greet guests. I wondered if any of the servants had been killed.

"More brandy, Jonathan? Laced with vervain. Not that we need to worry anymore," Father said, his words floating out the door.

"Thank you, Giuseppe. And thank you for having me here. I realize you have much on your mind," answered Jonathan somberly, as he accepted the tumbler. I saw the concern etched on Jonathan’s face, and my heart went out to him for the terrible truth he’d had to learn about Pearl.

"Y Thank you," Father said, waving off the

es. thought. "But it’s important that we end this sad chapter of our town’s history. It is the one thing I want to do for my sons. After all, I do not want the Salvatore legacy to be that of demon sympathizers." Father cleared his throat. "So the battle of Willow Creek happened when a group of Union insurgents mounted an attack on the Confederate camp," he began in his sonorous baritone voice, as if telling a story.

"And Stefan and Damon hid out in the woods to see if they could find any rogue soldiers, and at that point …," Jonathan continued.

"At that point they were tragically killed, just like the twenty-three other civilians who died for their country and their beliefs. It was a Confederate victory, but it came at the cost of innocent lives," Father said, raising his voice as if to make himself believe the story he was weaving.

"Y And I’ll speak with the Hagertys about

es. creating a monument. Something to acknowledge this terrible period in our town’s history," Jonathan murmured.

I raised myself up on my knees, peeking through a spot at the corner of the window. I saw Father nodding in satisfaction, and cold seeped through my veins. So this was the legacy of my death–that I was killed by a band of degenerate soldiers. Now I knew I needed to speak to Father more than ever. He needed to hear the whole truth, to know that Damon and I weren’t sympathizers, to know that the problem could have been cured without so much bloodshed and violence.

"But Giuseppe … ?" Jonathan asked, taking a long drink from his tumbler.

"Y Jonathan?"

es,

"It is a triumphant moment in our town’s history. The vampires are destroyed, and their bodies will turn to dust. We rid the town of the scourge, and thanks to the burning of the church, it will never come back. There were hard choices and heroism, but we won. That is your legacy," Jonathan said as he slammed his ledger closed with a definitive thump.

Father nodded and drained his own tumbler, then stood up. "Thank you," he said, holding out his hand. I watched as the two men shook hands, then watched as Jonathan disappeared into the shadows of the house. A moment later, I heard his carriage being hitched and the horses riding away. I crawled to the edge of the hedgerow. I stood up, my knees creaking, and walked through the door and into the house that was once mine.

Chapter 31

I crept through the house, cringing every time my foot hit a loose floorboard or a creaky corner. From the light at the far end of the house, I could tell Father had left the sitting room and was already in his study, no doubt writing down the record he and Jonathan had concocted in his own journal. I stood in the door frame and watched him for a moment. His hair was snow-white, and I saw age spots on his hands. Despite the lies I’d heard earlier, my heart went out to him. Here was a man who’d never known an easy life and who, after burying a wife, now had to bury two sons.

I took a step toward him, and Father’s head jerked upward.

"Dear God …," he said, dropping his pen to the floor with a clatter.

"Father," I said, holding out my hands to him. He stood up, his eyes darting wildly.

"It’s okay," I said gently. "I just want to talk with you."

"Y ou’re dead, Stefan," Father said slowly, still gaping at me.

I shook my head. "Whatever you think of Damon and me, you have to know that we didn’t betray you."

The fear on Father’s face abruptly turned to fury. "Y did betray me. Not only did you betray

ou me, you betrayed the whole town. Y should be

ou dead, after the way you’ve shamed me."

I watched him, anger rising up inside me. "Even in our death, you feel only shame?" I asked. It was something Damon would say, and in a way, I felt his presence beside me. I was doing this for him. I was doing it for both of us, so that at least we’d die with truth on our side.

But Father was barely listening. Instead, he was staring at me. "Y ou’re one of them now. Isn’t that right, Stefan?" Father said, backing away from me, slowly, as if I were about to lunge and attack him.

"No. No. I’ll never be one of them." I shook my head, hoping against hope that Father would believe me.

"But you are. I watched you bleed and take your last breath. I left you for dead. And now I see you here. Y are one of them," Father said, his

ou back now against the brick wall.

"Y saw me get shot?" I asked in confusion. I

ou remembered the voices. The chaos. Vampire being yelled over and over again in the darkness. Feeling Noah pull me off Damon. Everything fading to black.

"I pulled the trigger myself. I pulled it on you, and I pulled it on Damon. And apparently it wasn’t enough," Father said. "Now I need to finish the job," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "Y killed your own sons?" I asked, anger of