Moonsong (Page 49)

Except, what exactly was she going to say? Elena sighed and flopped down backward onto her bed, her heart sinking. Adrenaline from the car’s pursuit aside, al she could real y say was that she hadn’t meant for the kiss with Damon to happen, that she didn’t want him, not real y. She wanted Stefan. Al she could tel him was that it wasn’t something she had expected or planned. That Damon wasn’t the one she wanted. Not truly. That she would always choose Stefan.

That would have to be enough. Elena dialed again.

This time, Stefan picked up.

"Elena," he said flatly.

"Stefan, please listen to me," Elena said in a rush. "I’m so sorry. I never – "

"I don’t want to talk about this," Stefan said, cutting her off. "Please stop cal ing me."

"But, please, Stefan – "

"I love you, but…" Stefan’s voice was soft but cold. "I don’t think we can be together. Not if I can’t trust you." The line went dead. Elena pul ed the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment, puzzled, before she realized what had happened. Stefan, dear, darling Stefan who had always been there for her, who loved her no matter what she did, had hung up on her.

Meredith pul ed one foot up behind her back, held it in both hands, breathed deep, and slowly pul ed the foot higher, stretching her quadriceps muscle.

It felt good to stretch, to get a little blood flowing after her late night. She was looking forward to sparring with Samantha. There was a new move Meredith had figured out, a little something kickboxing inspired, that she thought Sam was going to love, once she got over the shock of being knocked down by Meredith once again. Samantha had been getting faster and more sure of herself as they kept working out together, and Meredith definitely wanted to keep her on her toes.

That was, it would be terrific to spar with Samantha, if Samantha ever actual y arrived. Meredith glanced at her watch. Sam was almost twenty minutes late.

Of course, they’d been out late the night before. But stil , it wasn’t like Samantha not to show up when she said she was going to. Meredith turned on her phone to see if she had a message, then cal ed Samantha. No answer.

Meredith left a quick voicemail, then hung up and went back to stretching, trying to ignore the faint quiver of unease running through her. She circled her shoulders, stretched her arms behind her back.

Maybe Samantha just forgot and had her phone turned off. Maybe she overslept. Samantha was a hunter; she wasn’t in danger from whoever – or whatever – was stalking the campus.

Sighing, Meredith gave up on her workout routine. She wasn’t going to be able to focus until she checked on Samantha, even though the other girl was probably fine.

Undoubtedly fine. Scooping up her backpack, she headed for the door. She could get in a run on the way over.

The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and Meredith’s feet pounded the paths in a regular rhythm as she wove between people wandering around campus. By the time she reached Samantha’s dorm, she was thinking that maybe Sam would want to go for a nice long run with her instead of sparring today.

She tapped on Samantha’s door, cal ing, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" The door, not latched, drifted open a little.

"Samantha?" Meredith said, pushing it open farther.

The smel hit her first. Like rust and salt, with an underlying odor of decay, it was so strong Meredith staggered backward, clapping a hand over her nose and mouth.

Despite the smel , Meredith couldn’t at first understand what was al over the wal s. Paint? she wondered, her brain feeling sluggish and slow. Why would Samantha be painting? It was so red. She walked through the door slowly, although something in her was starting to scream.

No, no, get away.

Blood. Bloodbloodbloodblood. Meredith wasn’t feeling slow and sluggish anymore: her heart was pounding, her head was spinning, her breath was coming hard and fast.

There was death in this room.

She had to see. She had to see Samantha. Despite every nerve in her body urging her to run, to fight, Meredith kept moving forward.

Samantha lay on her back, the bed beneath her soaked red with blood. She looked like she had been ripped apart.

Her open eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, unblinking.

She was dead.

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Are you sure you don’t want us to cal your parents, miss?" The campus security officer’s voice was gruff but kind, and his eyes were worried.

For a second, Meredith let herself picture having the kind of parents he must be imagining: ones who would swoop in to rescue their daughter, wrap her up and take her home until the horrible images of her friend’s death faded.

Her parents would just tel her to get on with the job. Tel her that any other reaction was a failure. If she let herself be weak, more people would die.

More so because Samantha had been a hunter, from a family of hunters, like Meredith. Meredith knew exactly what her father would have said if she had cal ed him. "Let this be a lesson to you. You are never safe."

"I’l be okay," she told the security guard. "My roommates are upstairs."

He let her go, watching her climb the stairs with a distressed expression. "Don’t worry, miss," he cal ed. "The police wil get this guy."

Meredith bit back her first reply, which was that he seemed to be putting a lot of faith in a police force that had yet to find any clues as to the whereabouts of the missing people or to solve Christopher’s murder. He was only trying to comfort her. She nodded to him and gave a little wave.

She hadn’t been any more successful than the police, not even with Samantha’s help. She hadn’t been trying hard enough, had been too distracted by the new place, the new people.

Why now? Meredith wondered suddenly. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but this was the first death, attack, or disappearance that took place in a dorm room instead of out on the quad or paths of the campus. Whatever this was, it came after Samantha specifical y.