The Fury

"Just read my palm, will you?"

"All right, this is your life line-" Bonnie’s stream of patter broke off almost before it was started. She stared at Elena’s hand, fear and apprehension in her face. "It should go all the way down to here," she said. "But it’s cut off so short…"

She and Elena looked at each other without speaking for a moment, while Elena felt that same apprehension solidify inside herself. Then Meredith broke in.

"Well, naturally it’s short," she said. "It just means what happened already, when Elena drowned."

"Yes, of course, that must be it," Bonnie murmured. She let go of Elena’s hand and Elena slowly drew back. "That’s it, all right," Bonnie said in a stronger voice.

Elena was gazing into the mirror again. The girl who gazed back was beautiful, but there was a sad wisdom about her eyes that the old Elena Gilbert had never had. She realized that Bonnie and Meredith were looking at her.

"That must be it," she said lightly, but her smile didn’t touch her eyes.

Chapter Nine

"Well, at least I didn’t get taken over," Bonnie said. "But I’m sick of this psychic stuff anyway; I’m tired of the whole thing. That was the last time, absolutely the last."

"All right," said Elena, turning away from the mirror, "let’s talk about something else. Did you find anything out today?"

"I talked with Alaric, and he’s having another get-together next week," Bonnie replied. "He asked Caroline and Vickie and me if we wanted to be hypnotized to help us deal with what’s been happening. But I’m sure he isn’t the Other Power, Elena. He’s too nice."

Elena nodded. She’d had second thoughts about her suspicions of Alaric herself. Not because he was nice, but because she had spent four days in his attic asleep. Would the Other Power really have let her stay there unharmed? Of course, Damon had said he’d influenced Alaric to forget that she was up there, but would the Other Power have succumbed to Damon’s influence? Shouldn’t it be far too strong?

Unless its Powers had temporarily burned out, she thought suddenly. The way Stefan’s were burning out now. Or unless it had only been pretending to be influenced.

"Well, we won’t cross him off the list just yet," she said. "We’ve got to be careful. What about Mrs. Flowers? Did you find out anything about her?"

"No luck," said Meredith. "We went to the boardinghouse this morning, but she didn’t answer the door. Stefan said he’d try to track her down in the afternoon."

"If somebody would only invite me in there, I could watch her, too," Elena said. "I feel like I’m the only one not doing anything. I think…" She paused a moment, considering, and then said, "I think I’ll go by home-by Aunt Judith’s, I mean. Maybe I’ll find Robert hanging around in the bushes or something."

"We’ll go with you," Meredith said.

"No, it’s better for me to do it alone. Really, it is. I can be very inconspicuous these days."

"Then take your own advice and be careful. It’s still snowing hard."

Elena nodded and dropped over the windowsill.

As she approached her house, she saw that a car was just pulling out of the driveway. She melted into the shadows and watched. The headlights illuminated an eerie winter sight: the neighbors’ black locust tree, like a bare-branched silhouette, with a white owl sitting in it.

As the car roared past, Elena recognized it. Robert’s blue Oldsmobile.

Now, that was interesting. She had an urge to follow him, but a stronger urge to check the house, make sure everything was all right. She circled it stealthily, examining windows.

The yellow chintz curtains at the kitchen window were looped back, revealing a bright section of kitchen inside. Aunt Judith was closing the dishwasher. Had Robert come to dinner? Elena wondered.

Elena wished she could see more than just her aunt’s profile in the flickering light of the TV. It gave her a strange feeling to look at this room, knowing that she could only look and not go in. How long had it been since she realized what a nice room it was? The old mahogany whatnot, crowded with china and glassware, the Tiffany lamp on the table next to Aunt Judith, the needlepoint pillows on the couch, all seemed precious to her now. Standing outside, feeling the feathery caress of the snow on the back of her neck, she wished she could go in just for a moment, just for a little while.

Aunt Judith’s head was tilting back, her eyes shutting. Elena leaned her forehead against the window, then slowly turned away.

She climbed the quince tree outside her own bedroom, but to her disappointment the curtains were shut tight. The maple tree outside Margaret’s room was fragile and harder to climb, but once she got up she had a good view; these curtains were wide open. Margaret was asleep with the bedcovers drawn up to her chin, her mouth open, her pale hair spread out like a fan on the pillow.

Hello, baby, Elena thought and swallowed back tears. It was such a sweetly innocent scene: the nightlight, the little girl in bed, the stuffed animals on the shelves keeping watch over her. And here came a little white kitten padding through the open door to complete the picture, Elena thought.

Snowball jumped onto Margaret’s bed. The kitten yawned, showing a tiny pink tongue, and stretched, displaying miniature claws. Then it walked daintily over to stand on Margaret’s chest.

Something tingled at the roots of Elena’s hair.

She didn’t know if it was some new hunter’s sense or sheer intuition, but suddenly she was afraid. There was danger in that room. Margaret was in danger.