The Struggle (Page 21)

"And the whole thing has sort of a feminine touch," put in Bonnie, bouncing slightly on Elena’s bed. "Well, it does," she said defensively. "Quoting bits of your diary back at you is the kind of thing a woman would think of. Men don’t care about diaries."

"You just don’t want it to be Damon," said Meredith. "I would think you’d be more worried about him being a psycho killer than a diary thief."

"I don’t know; killers are sort of romantic. Imagine your dying with his hands around your throat. He’d strangle the life out of you, and the last thing you’d see would be his face." Putting her own hands to her throat, Bonnie gasped and expired tragically, ending up draped across the bed. "He can have me anytime," she said, eyes still closed.

It was on Elena’s lips to say, "Don’t you understand, this isserious ," but instead she hissed in a breath. "Oh,God ," she said, and ran to the window. The day was humid and stifling, and the window had been opened. Outside on the skeletal branches of the quince tree was a crow.

Elena threw the sash down so hard that the glass rattled and tinkled. The crow gazed at her through the trembling panes with eyes like obsidian. Rainbows glimmered in its sleek black plumage.

"Why did yousay that?" she said, turning to Bonnie.

"Hey, there’s nobody out there," said Meredith gently. "Unless you count the birds."

Elena turned away from them. The tree was empty now.

"I’m sorry," said Bonnie in a small voice, after a moment. "It’s just that it all doesn’t seem real sometimes, even Mr. Tanner’s being dead doesn’t seem real. And Damon did look… well, exciting. But dangerous. I

"And besides, he wouldn’t squeeze your throat; he’d cut it," Meredith said. "Or at least that was what he did to Tanner. But the old man under the bridge had his throat ripped open, as if some animal had done it." Meredith looked to Elena for clarification. "Damon doesn’t have an animal, does he?"

"No. I don’t know." Suddenly, Elena felt very tired. She was worried about Bonnie, about the consequences of those foolish words.

"I can do anything to you, to you and the ones you love," she remembered. What might Damon do now? She didn’t understand him. He was different every time they met. In the gym he’d been taunting, laughing at her. But the next time she would swear that he’d been serious, quoting poetry to her, trying to get her to come away with him. Last week, with the icy graveyard wind lashing around him, he’d been menacing, cruel. And underneath his mocking words last night, she’d felt the same menace. She couldn’t predict what he’d do next.

But, whatever happened, she had to protect Bonnie and Meredith from him. Especially since she couldn’t warn them properly. And what was Stefan up to? She needed him right now, more than anything. Wherewas he?

It started that morning.

"Let me get this straight," Matt said, leaning against the scarred body of his ancient Ford sedan when

Stefan approached him before school. "You want to borrow my car."

"Yes," Stefan said.

"And the reason you want to borrow it is flowers. You want to get some flowers for Elena."

"Yes."

"And these particular flowers, these flowers you’ve just got to get, don’t grow around here."

"They might. But their blooming season is over this far north. And the frost would have finished them off anyway."

"So you want to go down south – how far south you don’t know – to find some of these flowers that you’ve just got to give to Elena."

"Or at least some of the plants," Stefan said. "I’d rather have the actual flowers though."

"And since the police still have your car, you want to borrow mine, for however long it takes you to go down south and find these flowers that you’ve just got to give to Elena."

"I figure driving is the least conspicuous way to leave town," Stefan explained. "I don’t want the police to follow me."

"Uh huh. And that’s why you want my car."

"Am I going to give my car to the guy who stole my girlfriend and now wants to take a jaunt down south to get her some kind of special flowers she’s just got to have? Are you crazy?" Matt, who had been staring out over the roofs of the frame houses across the street, turned at last to look at Stefan. His blue eyes, usually cheerful and straightforward, were full of utter disbelief, and surmounted by twisted, puckered brows.

Stefan looked away. He should have known better. After everything Matt had already done for him, to expect more was ridiculous. Especially these days, when people flinched from the sound of his step and avoided his eyes when he came near. To expect Matt, who had the best of reasons to resent him, to do him such a favor with no explanation, on the basis of faith alone, reallywas insane.

"No, I’m not crazy," he said quietly, and turned to go.

"Neither am I," Matt had said. "And I’d have to be crazy to turn my car over to you. Hell, no. I’m going with you."

By the time Stefan had turned back around, Matt was looking at the car instead of him, lower lip thrust forward in a wary, judicious pout.

"After all," he’d said, rubbing at the flaking vinyl of the roof, "you might scratch the paint or something."

Elena put the phone back on the hook.Somebody was at the boarding house, because somebody kept picking up the phone when it rang, but after that there was only silence and then the click of disconnection. She suspected it was Mrs. Flowers, but that didn’t tell her anything about where Stefan was. Instinctively, she wanted to go to him. But it was dark outside, and Stefan had warned her specifically not to go out in the dark, especially not anywhere near the cemetery or the woods. The boarding house was near both.