The Struggle

Rage held Elena hostage as Caroline turned and walked away, her auburn hair moving like liquid under the lights. Then Elena found her tongue.

"Caroline." The other girl turned back. "Are you going to go to that party at the Ramsey house tonight?" "I suppose so. Why?"

"Because I’ll be there. With Stefan. See you in the jungle." This time Elena was the one to turn away. The dignity of her exit was slightly marred when she saw a slim, shadowed figure at the far end of the hallway. Her step faltered for an instant, but as she drew closer she recognized Stefan.

She knew the smile she gave him looked forced, and he glanced back toward the lockers as they walked side by side out of the school.

"So football practice was canceled?" she said.

He nodded. "What was that all about?" he said quietly.

"Nothing. I asked Caroline if she was going to the party tonight." Elena tilted back her head to look at the gray and dismal sky.

She remembered what he had told her in his room. He could see better than a human, and hear better, too. Well enough to catch words spoken down forty feet of corridor?

"Yes," she said defiantly, still inspecting the clouds.

"And that’s what made you so angry?"

"Yes," she said again, in the same tone.

She could feel his eyes on her. "Elena, that’s not true."

"Well, if you can read my mind, you don’t need to ask me questions, do you?"

They were facing each other now. Stefan was tense, his mouth set in a grim line. "You know I wouldn’t do that. But I thought you were the one who was so big on honesty in relationships."

"All right. Caroline was being her usual bitchy self and shooting her mouth off about the murder. So what? Why do you care?"

"Because," said Stefan simply, brutally, "she might be right. Not about the murder but about you. About you and me. I should have realized this would happen. It’s not just her, is it? I’ve been sensing hostility and fear all day, but I was too tired to try and analyze it. They think I’m the killer and they’re taking it out on you."

"What they think doesn’t matter! They’re wrong, and they’ll realize that eventually. Then everything will be the way it was again."

A wistful smile tugged at the corner of Stefan’s mouth. "You really believe that, don’t you?" He looked away, and his face hardened. "And what if they don’t? What if it only gets worse?"

"What are you saying?" "It might be better…" Stefan took a deep breath and continued, carefully. "It might be better if we didn’t see each other for a while. If they think we’re not together, they’ll leave you alone."

She stared at him. "And you think you could do that? Not see me or talk to me for however long?"

"If it’s necessary – yes. We could pretend we’ve broken up." His jaw was set.

Elena stared another moment. Then she circled him and moved in closer, so close that they were almost touching. He had to look down at her, his eyes only a few inches from her own.

"There is," she said, "only one way I’m going to announce to the rest of the school that we’ve broken up. And that’s if you tell me that you don’t love me and you don’t want to see me. Tell me that, Stefan, right now. Tell me that you don’t want to be with me any more."

He’d stopped breathing. He stared down at her, those green eyes striated like a cat’s in shades of emerald and malachite and holly green.

She never got to finish the sentence. It was cut off as his mouth descended on hers.

Chapter Six

Stefan sat in the Gilbert living room, agreeing politely with whatever it was Aunt Judith was saying. The older woman was uncomfortable having him here; you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. But she was trying, and so Stefan was trying, too. He wanted Elena to be happy.

Elena. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, he was aware of her more than of anything else in the room. Her living presence beat against his skin like sunlight against closed eyelids. When he actually let himself turn to face her, it was a sweet shock to all his senses.

He loved her so much. He never saw her as Katherine any more; he had almost forgotten how much she looked like the dead girl. In any case, there were so many differences. Elena had the same pale gold hair and creamy skin, the same delicate features as Katherine, but there the resemblance ended. Her eyes, looking violet in the firelight just now but normally a blue as dark as lapis lazuli, were neither timid nor childlike as Katherine’s had been. On the contrary, they were windows to her soul, which shone like an eager flame behind them. Elena was Elena, and her image had replaced Katherine’s gentle ghost in his heart.

But her very strength made their love dangerous. He hadn’t been able to resist her last week when she’d offered him her blood. Granted, he might have died without it, but it had been far too soon for Elena’s own safety. For the hundredth time, his eyes moved over Elena’s face, searching for the telltale signs of change. Was that creamy skin a little paler? Was her expression slightly more remote?

They would have to be careful from now on. He would have to be more careful. Make sure to feed often, satisfy himself with animals, so he wouldn’t be tempted. Never let the need get too strong. Now that he thought of it, he was hungry right now. The dry ache, the burning, was spreading along his upper jaw, whispering through his veins and capillaries. He should be out in the woods – senses alert to catch the slightest crackle of dry twigs, muscles ready for the chase – not here by a fire watching the tracery of pale blue veins in Elena’s throat.

That slim throat turned as Elena looked at him.

"Do you want to go to that party tonight? We can take Aunt Judith’s car," she said.