Phantom

They al shook their heads, baffled. "Who even knows about us now that has this kind of power?" Matt asked.

"The Guardians?" said Bonnie doubtful y.

But Elena shook her head with a quick decisive motion, blond hair swinging. "It’s not them," she said. "The last thing they’d do is send a message in blood. Visions would be more their style. And I’m pretty sure the Guardians washed their hands of us when they sent us back here."

Mrs. Flowers interlocked her fingers in her lap. "So perhaps there is some as yet unknown person or being looking after you, warning you of danger ahead."

Matt had been sitting ramrod straight in one of Mrs. Flowers’s daintier chairs, and it creaked alarmingly as he leaned forward. "Um," he said. "I think the better question is, what’s causing that danger?"

Mrs. Flowers spread her smal , wrinkled hands. "You’re perfectly right. Let’s consider the options. On the one hand, it could be a warning for something that was natural y going to happen. Celia’s – you don’t mind if I cal you Celia, do you, dear?"

Celia, stil looking shel -shocked, shook her head.

"Good. Celia’s scarf getting caught in the train doors could have been a natural accident. Forgive me for saying so, but those long, dramatic scarves can be very dangerous. The dancer Isadora Duncan was kil ed in just that way when her scarf caught in the wheel of a car many years ago. Perhaps whoever sent the message was simply raising a flag for Celia to be careful, or for the rest of you to take care of her. Perhaps Meredith merely needs to be cautious over the next few days."

"You don’t think so, though, do you?" asked Meredith sharply.

Mrs. Flowers sighed. "This al feels rather malevolent to me. I think if someone wanted to warn you about the possibility of accidents, they could find a better way than names written in blood. Both of these names appeared as the results of rather violent incidents, correct? Bonnie cutting herself and Stefan ripping the scarf from Celia’s neck?"

Meredith nodded.

Looking troubled, Mrs. Flowers continued. "And, of course, the other possibility is that the appearance of the names is itself malicious. Perhaps the names’ appearance is an essential ingredient in or targeting method for some spel that is causing the danger."

Stefan frowned. "You’re talking about dark magic, aren’t you?"

Mrs. Flowers met his eyes squarely. "I’m afraid so. Stefan, you’re the oldest and most experienced of us by far. I’ve never heard of anything like this, have you?"

Bonnie felt a bit surprised. Of course, she knew that Stefan was much older than even Mrs. Flowers – after al , he’d been alive before electricity, or running water, or cars, or anything they took for granted in the modern world, while Mrs. Flowers was probably only in her seventies. But stil , it was easy to forget how long Stefan had lived. He looked just like any other eighteen-year-old, except that he was exceptional y handsome. A traitorous thought flickered at the back of her mind, one she’d had before: How was it that Elena always got al the best-looking guys?

Stefan was shaking his head. "Nothing like this, no. But I think you’re right that it may be dark magic. Perhaps, if you spoke to your mother about it…"

Celia, who was starting to take more of an interest in what was going on, looked at Alaric quizzical y. Then she cast a glance toward the door, as if expecting a hundredyear-old woman to wander in. Bonnie grinned to herself, despite the seriousness of the situation.

They had al gotten so matter-of-fact about Mrs. Flowers’s frequent conversations with the ghost of her mother that none of them blinked when Mrs. Flowers gazed off into space and started muttering rapidly, eyebrows lifting, eyes scanning unoccupied space as if someone unseen were speaking to her. But to Celia it must have seemed pretty strange.

"Yes," said Mrs. Flowers, returning her attention to them.

"Mama says there is indeed something dark stirring in Fel ‘s Church. But" – her hands lifted, palms empty – "she cannot tel what form it takes. She simply warns us to be careful. Whatever it is, she can sense that it’s deadly."

Stefan and Meredith frowned, taking this in. Alaric was murmuring to Celia, probably explaining what was going on. Matt bowed his head.

Elena pushed on, already working on the next angle.

"Bonnie, what about you?" she asked.

"Huh?" Bonnie asked. Then she realized what Elena meant. "No. Nuh-uh. I’m not going to know anything Mrs. Flowers’s mother doesn’t."

Elena just looked at her, and Bonnie sighed. This was important, after al . Meredith’s name was next, and if there was one thing that was true, it was that she and Meredith and Elena had one another’s backs. Always. "Al right," she said reluctantly. "I’l see if I can find out anything else. Can you light me a candle?"

"What now?" Celia asked in confusion.

"Bonnie’s psychic," Elena explained simply.

"Fascinating," Celia said brightly, but her eyes slid, cool and disbelieving, across Bonnie.

Wel , whatever. Bonnie didn’t care what she thought. She could assume that Bonnie was pretending or crazy if she wanted to, but she’d see what happened eventual y. Elena brought a candle over from its spot on the mantel, lit it, and placed it on the coffee table.

Bonnie swal owed, licked her lips, which were suddenly dry, and tried to focus on the candle flame. Although she’d had plenty of practice, she didn’t like doing this, didn’t like the sensation of losing herself, as if she were sliding underwater.

The flame flickered and grew brighter. It seemed to swel and fil Bonnie’s field of vision. Al she could see was flame. I know who you are, a cold, rough voice suddenly growled in her ear, and Bonnie twitched. She hated the voices, sometimes as soft as if they were coming from a distant television, sometimes right beside her, like this one. She somehow always managed to forget them until the next time she began to fal into a trance. A faraway child’s voice began a wordless off-key humming, and Bonnie focused on making her breathing slow and steady.