The Fury

"There’s a wolf around somewhere who put up plenty of fight," Mr. Smallwood said, red-faced. "Maybe they’re in it together."

"I don’t see any wolf. I saw a dog. Maybe one of the dogs that got out of quarantine. But what’s that got to do with it? I’m telling you that in my professional opinion you’ve got the wrong man."

The men were wavering, but there was still some doubt in their faces. Meredith spoke up.

"I think you should know that there’ve been vampire attacks in this county before," she said. "A long time before Stefan came here. My grandfather was a victim. Maybe some of you have heard about that." She looked across at Caroline.

That was the end of it. Elena could see the men exchanging uneasy glances and backing toward their cars. Suddenly they all seemed eager to be somewhere else.

Mr. Smallwood was one who stayed behind to say, "You said we’d talk about this tomorrow, Saltzman. I want to hear what my son says the next time he’s hypnotized."

Caroline’s father collected her and got in his car fast, muttering something about this all being a mistake and nobody taking it too seriously.

"Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

He moved away from Alaric’s supporting arm. "Somebody hit me from behind while I was talking to Caroline. I’ll be all right-now." He shot a glance at Alaric. "Thanks. Why?"

"He’s on our side," said Bonnie, joining them. "I told you. Oh, Stefan, are you really okay? I thought I was going to faint there for a minute. They weren’t serious. I mean, they couldn’t really have been serious. …"

"Serious or not, I don’t think we should stay here," said Meredith. "Does Stefan really need a hospital?"

"No," Stefan said, as Elena anxiously examined the cut on his head. "I just need rest. Somewhere to sit down."

"I’ve got my keys. Let’s go to the history room," Alaric said.

Bonnie was looking around the shadows apprehensively. "The wolf, too?" she said, and then jumped as a shadow coalesced and became Damon.

"What wolf?" he said. Stefan turned slightly, wincing.

"Thank you, too," he said unemotionally. But Stefan’s eyes lingered on his brother with something like puzzlement as they walked to the school building.

In the hallway, Elena pulled him aside. "Stefan, why didn’t you notice them coming up behind you? Why were you so weak?"

Stefan shook his head evasively, and she added, "When did you feed last? Stefan, when? You always make some excuse when I’m around. What are you trying to do to yourself?"

"I’m all right," he said. "Really, Elena. I’ll hunt later."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

It didn’t occur to Elena at the moment that they hadn’t agreed on what "later" meant. She allowed him to lead her on down the hall.

The history room looked different at night to Elena’s eyes. There was a strange atmosphere about it, as if the lights were too bright. Just now all the students’ desks were shoved out of the way, and five chairs were pulled up to Alaric’s desk. Alaric, who’d just finished arranging the furniture, urged Stefan into his own padded chair.

"Okay, why don’t the rest of you take a seat."

They just looked at him. After a moment Bonnie sank down into a chair, but Elena stood by Stefan, Damon continued to lounge halfway between the group and the door, and Meredith pushed some papers to the center of Alaric’s desk and perched on the corner.

"Well," said Elena.

Everyone looked at everyone else. Elena picked up a piece of cotton from the first-aid kit she’d grabbed at the door and began dabbing Stefan’s head with it.

"I think it’s time for that explanation," she said.

"Right. Yes. Well, you all seemed to have guessed I’m not a history teacher…"

"In the first five minutes," Stefan said. His voice was quiet and dangerous, and with a jolt Elena realized it reminded her of Damon’s. "So what are you?"

Alaric made an apologetic gesture and said almost diffidently, "A psychologist. Not the couch kind," he added hastily as the rest of them exchanged looks. "I’m a researcher, an experimental psychologist. From Duke University. You know, where the ESP experiments were started."

"The ones where they make you guess what’s on the card without looking at it?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes, well, it’s gone a bit beyond that now, of course. Not that I wouldn’t love to test you with Rhine cards, especially when you’re in one of those trances." Alaric’s face lit with scientific inquiry. Then he cleared his throat and went on. "But-ah-as I was saying. It started a couple of years ago when I did a paper on parapsychology. I wasn’t trying to prove supernatural powers existed, I just wanted to study what their psychological effect is on the people who have them. Bonnie, here, is a case in point." Alaric’s voice took on a lecturer’s tone. "What does it do to her, mentally, emotionally, to have to deal with these powers?"

"It’s awful," Bonnie interrupted vehemently. "I don’t want them anymore. I hate them."

"Well, there you see," Alaric said. "You’d have made a great case study. My problem was that I couldn’t find anybody with real psychic powers to examine. There were plenty of fakers, all right-crystal healers, dowsers, channelers, you name it. But I couldn’t find anything genuine until I got a tip from a friend in the police department.

"There was this woman down in South Carolina who claimed she’d been bitten by a vampire, and since then she was having psychic nightmares. By that time I was so used to fakes I expected her to turn out to be one, too. But she wasn’t, at least not about being bitten. I never could prove she was really psychic."