The Fury

Sue Carson went up. She and Elena hadn’t been close friends since elementary school, but they’d remained on good terms. Sue had been one of the few girls who’d stayed on Elena’s side after Stefan had come under suspicion for Mr. Tanner’s murder. But now Sue was crying as if she’d lost a sister.

"A lot of people weren’t nice to Elena after Halloween," she said, wiping her eyes and going on. "And I know that hurt her. But Elena was strong. She never changed just to conform to what other people thought she should be. And I respected her for that, so much…" Sue’s voice wobbled. "When I was up for Homecoming Queen, I wanted to be chosen, but I knew I wouldn’t be and that was all right. Because if Robert E. Lee ever had a queen, it was Elena. And I think she always will be now, because that’s how we’ll all remember her. And I think that for years to come the girls who will go to our school might remember her and think about how she stuck by what she thought was right…" This time Sue couldn’t steady her voice and the reverend helped her back to her seat.

The girls in the senior class, even the ones that had been nastiest and most spiteful, were crying and holding hands. Girls Elena knew for a fact hated her were sniffling. Suddenly she was everybody’s best friend.

There were boys crying, too. Shocked, Elena huddled closer to the railing. She couldn’t stop watching, even though it was the most horrible thing she had ever seen.

Frances Decatur got up, her plain face plainer than ever with grief. "She went out of her way to be nice to me," she said huskily. "She let me eat lunch with her." Rubbish, Elena thought. I only spoke to you in the first place because you were useful in finding out information about Stefan. But it was the same with each person who went up to the pulpit; no one could find enough words to praise Elena.

"I always admired her…"

"One of my favorite students…"

When Meredith rose, Elena’s whole body stiffened. She didn’t know if she could deal with this. But the dark-haired girl was one of the few people in the church who

wasn’t crying, although her face had a grave, sad look that reminded Elena of Honoria Fell as she looked on her tomb.

"When I think about Elena, I think about the good times we had together," she said, speaking quietly and with her customary self-control. "Elena always had ideas, and she could make the most boring work into fun. I never told her that, and now I wish I had. I wish that I could talk to her one more time, just so she would know. And if Elena could hear me now"-Meredith looked around the church and drew a long breath, apparently to calm herself-"if she could hear me now, I would tell her how much those good times meant to me, and how much I wish that we could still have them. Like the Thursday nights we used to sit together in her room, practicing for the debate team. I wish we could do that just once more like we used to." Meredith took another long breath and shook her head. "But I know we can’t, and that hurts."

What are you talking about? Elena thought, her misery interrupted by bewilderment. We used to practice for the debate team on Wednesday nights, not Thursdays. And it wasn’t in my bedroom; it was in yours. And it was no fun at all; in fact, we ended up quitting because we both hated it…

Suddenly, watching Meredith’s carefully composed face, so calm on the outside to conceal the tension within, Elena felt her heart begin to pound.

Meredith was sending a message, a message only Elena could be expected to understand. Which meant that Meredith expected Elena to be able to hear it.

Meredith knew.

Had Stefan told her? Elena scanned the rows of mourners below, realizing for the first time that Stefan wasn’t among them. Neither was Matt. No, it didn’t seem likely that Stefan would have told Meredith, or that Meredith would choose this way of getting a message to her if he had. Then Elena remembered the way Meredith had looked at her the night they had rescued Stefan from the well, when Elena had asked to be left alone with Stefan.

She remembered those keen dark eyes studying her face more than once in the last months, and the way Meredith had seemed to grow quieter and more thoughtful each time Elena came up with some odd request.

Meredith had guessed then. Elena wondered just how much of the truth she’d put together.

Bonnie was coming up now, crying in earnest. That was surprising; if Meredith knew, why hadn’t she told Bonnie? But maybe Meredith had only a suspicion, something she didn’t want to share with Bonnie in case it turned out to be a false hope.

"Thank you," Bonnie said, wiping her streaming eyes. She tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, either to regain her poise or to get inspiration. As she did, Elena saw something that no one else could see: she saw Bonnie’s face drain of color and of expression, not like somebody about to faint, but in a way that was all too familiar.

A chill crawled up Elena’s backbone. Not here. Oh, God, of all times and places, not here.

But it was already happening. Bonnie’s chin had lowered; she was looking at the congregation again. Except that this time she didn’t seem to see them at all, and the voice that came from Bonnie’s throat was not Bonnie’s voice.

"No one is what they appear. Remember that. No one is what they appear." Then she just stood there, unmoving, staring straight ahead with blank eyes.

People began to shuffle and look at one another. There was a murmur of worry.

"Remember that-remember-no one is what they seem…" Bonnie swayed suddenly, and Reverend Bethea ran to her while another man hastened up from the other side. The second man had a bald head that was now shining with sweat-Mr. Newcastle, Elena realized. And there at the back of the church, striding up the nave, was Alaric Saltzman. He reached Bonnie just as she fainted, and Elena heard a step behind her on the stair.