The Fury

"No one is what they seem," Elena said.

"What?"

"That’s what Bonnie said during the memorial service. She had another one of her fits. I think it might be important." She tried to put her thoughts in order. "I think there are people in town that we ought to look out for. Like Alaric Saltzman." She told them, briefly, what she had overheard earlier that day in Alaric’s house. "He’s not what he seems, but I don’t know exactly what he is. I think we should watch him. And since I obviously can’t appear in public, you two are going to have to do it. But you can’t let him suspect you know-" Elena broke off as Damon held up a hand swiftly.

Down at the base of the stairs, a voice was calling. "Stefan? Are you up there?" And then, to someone else, "I thought I saw him go up here."

It sounded like Mr. Carson. "Go," Elena hissed almost inaudibly to Stefan, "You have to be as normal as possible so you can stay here in Fell’s Church. I’ll be all right."

"But where will you go?"

"To Meredith’s. I’ll explain later. Go on."

Stefan hesitated, and then started down the stairs, calling, "I’m coming." Then he pulled back. "I’m not leaving you with him," he said flatly.

Elena threw her hands up in exasperation. "Then both of you go. You just agreed to work together; are you going to go back on your word now?" she added to Damon, who was looking unyielding himself.

He gave another of his little shrugs. "All right. Just one thing-are you hungry?"

"That’s good. But later on, you will be. Remember that." He crowded Stefan down the stairs, earning himself a searing look. But Elena heard Stefan’s voice in her mind as they both disappeared.

I’ll come for you later. Wait for me.

She wished she could answer with her own thoughts. She also noticed something. Stefan’s mental voice was much weaker than it had been four days ago when he had been fighting his brother. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to speak with his mind at all before the Founders’ Day celebration. She’d been so confused when she woke up by the river that it hadn’t occurred to her, but now she wondered. What had happened to make him so strong? And why was his strength fading now?

Elena had time to think about it as she sat there in the deserted choir loft, while below the people left the church and outside the overcast skies slowly grew darker. She thought about Stefan, and about Damon, and she wondered if she had made the right choice. She’d vowed never to let them fight over her, but that vow was broken already. Was she crazy to try and make them live under a truce, even a temporary one?

When the sky outside was uniformly black, she ventured down the stairs. The church was empty and echoing. She hadn’t thought about how she would get out, but fortunately the side door was bolted only from the inside. She slipped out into the night gratefully.

She hadn’t realized how good it was to be outside and in the dark. Being inside buildings made her feel trapped, and daylight hurt her eyes. This was best, free and unfettered-and unseen. Her own senses rejoiced at the lush world around her. With the air so still, scents hung in the air for a long time, and she could smell a whole plethora of nocturnal creatures. A fox was scavenging in somebody’s trash. Brown rats were chewing something in the bushes. Night moths were calling to one another with scent.

She found it wasn’t hard to get to Meredith’s house undetected; people seemed to be staying inside. But once she got there, she stood looking up at the graceful farmhouse with the screened porch in dismay. She couldn’t just walk up to the front door and knock. Was Meredith really expecting her? Wouldn’t she be waiting outside if she were?

Meredith was about to get a terrible shock if she weren’t, Elena reflected, eyeing the distance to the roof of the porch. Meredith’s bedroom window was above it and just around the corner. It would be a bit of a reach, but Elena thought she could make it.

Getting onto the roof was easy; her fingers and bare toes found holds between the bricks and sent her sailing up. But leaning around the corner to look into Meredith’s window was a strain. She blinked against the light that flooded out.

Meredith was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on knees, staring at nothing. Every so often she ran a hand through her dark hair. A clock on the nightstand said

Meredith was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on knees, staring at nothing. Every so often she ran a hand through her dark hair. A clock on the nightstand said Elena tapped on the window glass with her fingernails.

Meredith jumped and looked the wrong way, toward the door. She stood up in a defensive crouch, clutching a throw pillow in one hand. When the door didn’t open, she sidled a pace or two toward it, still in a defensive posture. "Who is it?" she said.

Elena tapped on the glass again.

Meredith spun to face the window, her breath coming fast.

"Let me in," said Elena. She didn’t know if Meredith could hear her, so she mouthed it clearly. "Open the window."

Meredith, panting, looked around the room as if she expected someone to appear and help her. When no one did, she approached the window as if it were a dangerous animal. But she didn’t open it.

"Let me in," Elena said again. Then she added impatiently, "If you didn’t want me to come, why did you make an appointment with me?"

She saw the change as Meredith’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Slowly, with fingers that were unusually clumsy, Meredith opened the window and stood back.

"Now ask me to come inside. Otherwise I can’t.

"Come…" Meredith’s voice failed and she had to try again. "Come in," she said. When Elena, wincing, had boosted herself over the sill and was flexing her cramped fingers, Meredith added almost dazedly, "It’s got to be you. Nobody else gives orders like that."