It's a new semester as a grad student/teacher of freshman composition, and things are going well. My students handed in their first paper last Friday, and instead of moping and grousing about the prospect of grading while putting the actual act of it off for a week, I just got down to business and did it all over the weekend, which left me plenty of time to write a chapter. Bwahaha.
Incidentally, anglcdmn1986 will soon begin posting "Petrova Blood," sequel to All This Time (the Damon/Elena time travel AU I co-authored with her) which is only available on Kindle Worlds now. "Petrova Blood" will be on this site under her profile until it's finished, at which point she'll take it down to publish on KW as well. Keep an eye out for the updates!
Summer break had finally arrived, and the Gilbert family (plus Jenna) was starting it off the same way they always did: by heading up to the house at Dunham Lake in Michigan for a week. It was a four hundred mile drive that took most of Saturday to complete. By the end of it, Jeremy and Elena were extremely fidgety and restless, while Grayson, Miranda, and Jenna were mostly just exhausted.
Grayson pulled the SUV into the drive at about five in the evening. Jeremy immediately made to flee the vehicle, but Miranda's voice halted his progress. "Before you run off anywhere, sweetie, can you help your dad with the luggage?"
Elena smirked. Jeremy noticed this and scowled at her. "What about you, Jenna, and Elena? Aren't you going to help too?"
"We can take our purses and backpacks in, but your dad is a gentleman, and I know we raised you to be one, so you'll be glad to help him bring the rest of it in, won't you?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes—but only after making sure none of the adults would see him do it. "Yes, ma'am," he said grudgingly.
"Good," said Grayson as they all started to climb out of the car. "Because if we hurry, we might still have time to do a little wakeboarding before dinner."
Jeremy immediately brightened. "Okay!" he said, darting to the trunk and pulling two of the biggest duffel bags out with such enthusiasm that the mesh handles creaked in protest.
"Great," said Miranda. "While you two do that, we girls can make dinner."
"And by 'make dinner,' she means 'order pizza'," said Jenna.
"My favorite!" said Grayson, grinning. Elena and Jeremy laughed.
Twenty minutes later, the sounds of a motorboat roaring across the water could be heard from inside the house, where Elena was just finishing unpacking all of her things in her room. When she turned around from putting the last hanger in the closet, she nearly jumped with surprise, but the emotion turned instantly to delight. "Edgar!" she said happily, bounding across the room to the window, where the large black raven was perched on the sill. He let out a low croak in response to her greeting and ruffled his feathers.
Elena fished the bag of trail mix out of her backpack, opened it, and set it on the sill beside Edgar. She'd only eaten about half of it on the road. He promptly began pecking at the contents, targeting the peanuts more than anything else.
"Did you seriously make him fly all the way up here to keep an eye on me, Damon? No wonder he's hungry," she muttered, stroking Edgar's feathery head.
After a few seconds, her phone buzzed on top of her bed. She picked it up and opened the new text.
"Come on, Edgar enjoyed the flight. And you said I couldn't come with, so I'm merely exploiting the obvious loophole."
"Just as long as watching the Edgar cam isn't the only thing you do all week, because that would be sad."
"Pfft. Of course I have other things to do."
X
Damon let out an aggravated groan, which came out muffled because of the way he was lying facedown on one of the leather sofas. It should not be this difficult to find things to occupy his time while Elena was out of town. He'd already drunk his fill of blood for the day—a young couple passing through town on their way to a more interesting vacation spot had helped him out with that—and nothing else sounded remotely appealing. He was about to give up and switch his focus back to the "Edgar cam" in spite of Elena's mockery when Stefan strode into the parlor.
"Uh…what are you doing?" he said.
"Absolutely nothing," said Damon grumpily, still not bothering to lift his face off the sofa cushion.
The sound of Stefan's footsteps moved closer. "Why?" He had the gall to seem amused. "Shouldn't you be out trying to corrupt a certain sixteen-year-old girl who thinks far too highly of you?"
"Oh, I would," said Damon, not rising to the bait, "but she happens to be unavailable."
"What do you mean?"
"She and her family are in Michigan until next weekend."
"All of them?" said Stefan. "Even Dr. Gilbert?"
There was an eager edge to Stefan's tone that caught Damon's attention at once. "Why do you care what Grayson's doing?" he asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position and fixing his brother with a piercing stare.
"No reason," said Stefan much too quickly, avoiding Damon's gaze. Before Damon could question him further, the doorbell rang. "You'd better get that," he said, and then he sped off somewhere out of both sight and earshot.
Damon scowled as he got to his feet, but used vamp speed to reach the front door. He opened it to find a middle-aged brunette in an expensive beige skirt suit standing on the other side.
"Hello," he said with an easy smile. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Carol Lockwood, the Mayor's wife," she said, already blushing a little in the face of Damon's charm. "I was hoping to find Zach Salvatore? He hasn't been returning my calls."
"Uncle Zach?" said Damon, suddenly glad that Stefan had skedaddled. "He had to go out of town, but if you want, I can pass a message along to him."
Mrs. Lockwood seemed to relax a little upon hearing that she was speaking to a relative of Zach's, but looked very displeased to learn that he was no longer in Mystic Falls. "Zach did mention he had family staying with him," she said.
"Yep," said Damon, holding his hand out for her to shake, which she did. "Damon Salvatore. My little brother Stefan is here too. We'll probably be in town for at least a few months."
She nodded, then bit her lip and glanced around. Damon watched her deliberate for a second, then decided to take a shot in the dark. "You're here about the vervain, aren't you?" he said. Since Zach's departure, Damon had done a thorough search of the boarding house just in case Zach and Stefan had any more surprises for him, and he'd found the vervain crop in the cellar, next door to the cell Stefan had kept him in. If Mrs. Lockwood was here on Council business, Damon very much doubted that Zach had anything to offer except that vervain.
Mrs. Lockwood's attention snapped back to him, her eyes wide. "You know about the vervain?"
"Of course I do," said Damon dismissively. "I'm a Salvatore, aren't I?" He took a small step towards her and affected a concerned expression. Obviously Zach had told the Council something, but if this woman didn't know what he was, then he could afford to play things up a little more. "Uncle Zach told me about his suspicions. He didn't think now was a good time for us to visit. Especially Stefan. He doesn't know about any of this yet; it could be more dangerous for him."
"Then you think there might be vampires in Mystic Falls too?"
"I don't know," said Damon, while inwardly seething. Zach had been smarter than he thought. If Damon had killed Zach as planned, it would have pointed the Council straight to himself and Stefan, the town's newest arrivals. He wondered if Stefan knew how willing Zach had been to throw him under the bus. That would be a fun little factoid to drop on him sometime. "But we can never be too careful. Do you have any idea why Zach is so worried? He always brushed me off when I tried to get him to talk about it."
"No," said Mrs. Lockwood. "The Council hasn't met formally to discuss it yet, but my husband and Sheriff Forbes want to conduct an investigation just to be sure. The Sheriff has already been making a few inquiries, but for anything more, we need the vervain and a couple of other things."
"Sounds good," said Damon. "I'll let Zach know you stopped by, and I can get the vervain to the Sheriff as soon as it's ready."
"I'd appreciate that," said Mrs. Lockwood. "But you know, if you're only going to be here for a few months, you shouldn't feel obligated to get involved in all this."
"Please, Mrs. Lockwood. I may not spend most of my time here, but Mystic Falls is my home. I feel a…responsibility to do anything I can to ensure its safety." Rarely had it been so difficult for Damon to suppress a smirk as at that moment.
"Well, I have to say, it's refreshing to meet a young man with a real sense of duty and loyalty to his community," she said, the blush returning, along with a smile. "My teenage son could learn a thing or two about that from you."
"I'm an older brother," said Damon, putting a hand to his chest. "Being a role model for teenage boys comes naturally."
"Then maybe we'll have to have you and your brother over for dinner sometime. And Zach, when he gets back."
"We'd be honored," said Damon. It had almost been an invitation, but not quite. Still, after this, it shouldn't be difficult to secure one. Retrieving the crystal from the Lockwoods' mansion would be a cinch, even if it did mean he'd have to put vervain in the clutches of all his potential enemies in town.
X
Not long after Elena's brief chat with Damon via Edgar and her phone, Edgar flew off to a nearby tree and her mom stepped into the room. "All done unpacking?" she asked.
"Yeah," said Elena. "Why?"
"I've ordered the pizza already, but I want to show you and Jenna something while Jeremy's still wakeboarding with your dad."
"Okay," said Elena, intrigued. Her mom led her out into the hall, where Jenna was waiting and looking equally curious. They followed Miranda to her and Grayson's room, then to the closet, where she stopped and turned to face them. "This might be a vacation house, but there's a reason we don't rent it out to time-sharers when we're not staying in it."
Elena and Jenna exchanged bemused glances, then watched in astonishment as Miranda began to remove several panels from the wall, revealing a hidden door. She then pulled a key from her pocket, undid the heavy lock holding it shut, and pushed it open. Finally, she stepped inside and pulled the string to switch on the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Holy crap," said Jenna. She and Elena joined Miranda inside the small room and stared around at the walls. Two of them were covered in nothing but weapons, which all seemed specifically designed for fighting vampires. A crossbow and stakes took center stage, displayed prominently on the wall opposite the door, and they were surrounded by all kinds of other weapons, either wooden and pointed or sporting wicked metal blades. The left wall contained a few weapons as well, but was mostly occupied by a bookcase full of leather-bound journals, many of which looked more than a hundred years old.
"Has this always been here?" said Elena.
"Since your great-granddad Gilbert bought the property and built this house on it," said Miranda. "The Sommers side of the family was never this melodramatic about it."
"You can say that again," said Jenna.
"Has Dad ever used any of this stuff?" said Elena.
"He hasn't needed to in a long time, thank God."
"What about you?" said Jenna, eyeing her big sister shrewdly.
Miranda smirked a little. "Grayson's always had better aim with the ranged weapons, but I can beat him at melee combat every time. If you want, we can teach you how to use these." She gestured at the walls of weapons. "We want to keep Jeremy out of it until he's at least sixteen, though, if at all possible."
"Sounds like fun," said Jenna.
"What are all these books?" said Elena, running her hand over the spines of all the journals.
"Those would be the Gilbert Chronicles," said Miranda. "At least, that's what I call them. Most of them are by Johnathan Gilbert, your Civil War era ancestor. He kept journals his whole life, and he did extensive research on all things supernatural. There are a few other authors in here, too. Johnathan's mother, his brother, his son, his grandkids—including your great-granddad. Your dad keeps the more recent ones—his own journals and your granddad's—at home in the safe in his office."
"Wow," said Elena. As a dedicated keeper of journals herself, she was awed by the family history before her. She looked at her mom eagerly. "Can I read them?"
"Of course," said Miranda. "That way you'll be able to give that asshat Tanner a run for his money with your historical Mystic Falls knowledge next year."
Elena snorted loudly. Her mom rarely swore, especially within earshot of either of her kids, but Elena knew how deep her dislike of Coach Tanner ran.
"Tell us how you really feel, Miranda," said Jenna.
"Please," said Miranda unrepentantly. "You've never been in a parent/teacher conference with that man."
X
"Shouldn't we wait until Mom or Jenna can drive this thing for you?" said Jeremy. The last half-hour had been a blast, his dad running the boat as fast as he could on a lake that size while he rode the wakeboard behind it. He'd managed to stay on top of the board for most of the time.
"Why?" said Grayson, adjusting the boots and strapping them onto his feet. "You know how to drive it. I showed you last year."
"Yeah, but I've never done it by myself," said Jeremy anxiously.
"Come on, it's easier than riding a bike," said Grayson, now picking up the wake board and the handle at the end of the tow cable. "Or do you just not want to give your old man the chance to kick your butt at wakeboarding?"
"Yeah right!" said Jeremy, moving to the wheel, all nervousness forgotten. "I bet you can't stay on for one whole lap."
"What, so if you lose that bet, I don't have to pay you allowance until July?" said Grayson, easing into the water and securing the boots onto the wakeboard.
"I didn't say that!" Jeremy laughed. "Hold on tight!" With no further warning, he gunned the motor, and the boat shot forward over the water. He looked over his shoulder and saw his dad grinning back at him, water spraying up behind him in trails of white mist. He pushed the boat as hard as he dared, careful to stay a safe distance from the shore no matter what. A few times, he cut turns so sharp that he was sure his dad would lose his grip on the handle, but every time he checked, he was still there, well balanced and getting more and more smug about it every minute.
About ten minutes in, Grayson's phone, which was sitting in the cup-holder next to the wheel, began to ring loudly. Expecting it to be his mom calling to tell them the pizza had arrived, Jeremy picked it up and answered it without looking at the screen. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello," said a voice at the other end that definitely wasn't his mother's. There was a pause, and Jeremy turned the boat with his free hand, starting them on a wide figure eight across the middle of the lake. "Is this Jeremy?"
"Uh, yeah," said Jeremy. "Who's this?"
"Mayor Lockwood. Can I talk to your dad?"
"He's kind of at the end of a wake cable right now; can he call you back?"
"Sure," said the Mayor, but he didn't sound happy about it.
"Want me to tell him what it's about?" said Jeremy.
"No, I'll tell him. Thanks." With that, he hung up.
"Weird," said Jeremy, and he dropped the phone back into the cup-holder.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time it was his mom calling about the pizza. Without informing her that he was the one currently behind the wheel on the boat, Jeremy told her they'd be back in a couple minutes, ended the call, and killed the motor.
"Who was that on the phone earlier?" Grayson asked when he'd pulled himself far enough up the cable to speak normally.
"Mayor Lockwood," said Jeremy, letting his bemusement show on his face as he offered his dad a hand. "What's up with that?"
"Probably nothing serious," said Grayson, taking Jeremy's hand and clambering over the prow into the boat.
"That's not what he made it sound like," said Jeremy.
"Richard Lockwood is just the latest in a long line of hotheaded, obsessive, micromanaging bureaucrats who think being in charge of a small town merits having an ego bigger than the President's," said Grayson, rolling his eyes. Jeremy snickered. "He makes everything sound more serious than it is. I probably just haven't crossed all the T's on the last building inspection of my office or donated the right amount to the latest charity his wife is running."
"Weren't you in his graduating class in high school?"
"Yeah," said Grayson, grinning. "I'm the reason he wasn't football captain or class president."
"Is that why he threw that party when Tyler made captain?"
"And didn't invite any of us?" said Grayson, his grin widening. "Yep."
"Didn't he hit on Mom once?" said Jeremy. He'd heard that story before, but it was one of his favorites.
"Once," Grayson repeated firmly. "We were twenty-four and she was still a senior in high school. It was the 1990 Founders' Ball. Richard was already drunk, and he tried to get a little handsy with that year's Miss Mystic Falls—your mother. I saw it from across the room, and I was about to go punch Richard out, when—"
"Mom did it for you," Jeremy finished for him, grinning as wide as his dad now.
"He knocked over an antique vase on the way down and had to get five stitches on his lip," said Grayson triumphantly, his eyes glazing over as he relived it. "That was the night I fell for her. I'd never seen anything more beautiful than your mother that night."
Jeremy laughed appreciatively. "Come on, we'd better get back before they eat all the pizza."
Grayson took the wheel again, started the motor up and turned them towards their dock. On the way over, Jeremy stared unseeingly at the water over the side of the boat, fantasizing about what it would be like if Vicki Donovan would punch Tyler out the same way his mom had punched out Tyler's dad. Unfortunately for him, she seemed to like it when Tyler got handsy with her. The last traces of his smile faded. She could do so much better than that jerk.
X
Later in the evening, after the pizza was gone and Miranda, Jenna, Jeremy, and Elena had all gradually either fallen asleep right in the living room or drifted off to their rooms to go to bed while Spider-Man played on TV, Grayson finally returned Richard Lockwood's call.
"Gilbert," said Richard.
"Lockwood," Grayson returned, pacing the length of the living room.
"How's the vacation going so far?" said Richard.
"Can we skip to the point? Feigned interest won't get you my vote next election," said Grayson. Jeremy was lying facedown on the couch, snoring slightly. The blanket he'd curled up under had slipped halfway down his back. Grayson carefully pulled it back up to cover his shoulders.
"Then it's a good thing I don't need your vote."
"What do you need?" said Grayson, turning away from Jeremy and resuming his pacing.
"The Gilbert watch. Concerns have been raised, and we need to make sure there are no vampires in Mystic Falls. We can't have another situation like what happened fifteen years ago."
"I'll look for it when I get home next weekend."
"You can't just tell me where to find it?"
"Not unless the concerns you're referring to include someone in town being dead or missing."
"Fine," said Richard through what sounded like clenched teeth. "Next weekend it is." There was a click, and the line went dead. Grayson suppressed a scowl and opened his contacts list, scrolling down to the S's.
It took two rings for Damon to answer. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said dryly.
"Seriously, Salvatore?" said Grayson. He was still running low on patience from the conversation with Richard and was therefore in no mood to put up with smart-mouthed vampires. "I'm out of Virginia one day and already I'm getting calls from the Mayor about an investigation into potential vampire activity back home?"
"Whoa, blame Zach, not me. He's the one who squealed. Not loudly enough that I should be on the watch for a mob with torches and stakes outside my front door, but enough to get them on the alert. But why are you getting your boxers in such a bunch about it anyway? Isn't this more my problem than yours?"
"Not as long as we're working together, especially since the rest of the Council will expect me to hand over one of the tools they need for their investigation."
"And what is that?"
Grayson let out a resigned breath and ran a hand over his face. As a rule, he didn't like giving Damon information, but as he couldn't think of a way Damon could use this particular tidbit against him or his family, he was willing to part with it. "It's a pocket watch made by Johnathan Gilbert. When combined with a device the Lockwoods have, it becomes a compass—just, not the kind that points north."
"How long do you think you can stall before you have to hand it over?"
"Maybe a month. I told Richard I'd look for it when I got home, and once I get home, I'll tell him my brother John must have it with him, and then I can conveniently have trouble getting in touch with John, but that will only keep working for so long. Eventually I'll have to give it to him."
"And I suppose if the compass were to just 'disappear,' they would only take that as a confirmation that there are vampires in town."
"That they would."
"Well, then I guess I have about a month to figure out a way around the compass. Thanks for the heads up. Until then, I'm confident I can stay off their radar."
"Why is that?" Grayson asked slowly, not liking the smirk he could hear in Damon's voice.
"Because Carol Lockwood stopped by earlier. With Zach out of town, I'm the Council's vervain supplier."
Grayson groaned. "Fine, but if this blows up in your face, I can only do so much to run damages. I won't have the Council turning on my family."
"Hey, I've got this. I could crook my finger and have Carol eating out of the palm of my hand," said Damon. "Literally," he added in a rather lecherous tone, which made Grayson grimace.
"Just try not to do anything to draw attention to yourself. And call me if anything comes up in this 'investigation' before I get back. The honorable Mayor might not be too inclined to keep me in the loop." He hung up before Damon could reply and trudged out of the living room in the direction of his and Miranda's bedroom.
He hadn't noticed that Jeremy's snores had stopped at least a minute earlier.
X
"First Elena totally flakes out on me with cheerleading, and now she can't even come to the Beginning of Summer Break party?" said Caroline indignantly.
"You're the one who scheduled it," Bonnie reminded her. "You know her family always goes to the lake house the first week of summer."
"Well we had practice Friday and Saturday, and yesterday I was at my dad's, so today was the best time to have it." They were at the Grill, where every available space was filled with most of the Mystic Falls High students Caroline had ever met. "I just don't know what's gotten into her lately. Breaking up with Matt, ditching cheer—it's like nothing she does makes sense to me anymore!"
"Come on, don't you think you're being a little unfair?" said Bonnie. "It's up to her how she handles her relationships, and I think ending it with Matt made her reevaluate a lot of other things in her life. Cheerleading just isn't a good fit for her anymore."
"Well whatever's going on in her brain, she definitely isn't a good fit for cheerleading anymore. I thought I would regret kicking one of my best friends off the squad, but she made that way too easy."
Bonnie rolled her eyes and drank a few sips of her root beer.
Caroline sighed. "Wait here," she said. "I'm going to go see if I can sweet talk the bartender into getting me the real stuff." And with that, she slid out of the booth and headed off towards the bar. Bonnie watched her go, already tired of this party.
Someone let out a low whistle from the spot Caroline had just vacated, making Bonnie jump and spin around. It was Damon. "Suddenly I don't feel so bad about my lack of options for company when Elena's out of town," he said, snatching up a few of Caroline's fries and popping them in his mouth. "Is Blondie always like that or is there some kind of off switch?"
"What are you doing here?" said Bonnie.
"I'm celebrating the beginning of summer break." He ate another couple of fries. "Obviously."
Bonnie glanced around, then, when she was sure no one nearby was paying attention to their conversation, she leaned forward and said, "Is what Stefan said about you when I was keeping him distracted for you and Elena true?"
"Depends," said Damon, shrugging. "What'd he say about me?"
"That you were going to kill Zach if you got free."
"Well, I was going to kill Zach, but I'm free now and he's still alive, so I'm gonna say no. Not true."
Bonnie leveled a flat stare at him.
"What?" he said, utterly without remorse. "You witnessed him put a crossbow bolt in your best friend's back. Are you really going to defend him?"
"As long as you aren't still planning on killing him, there's not really much point, is there?"
"I guess not," said Damon, now taking a swig of Caroline's root beer.
"Could you stop stealing Caroline's food?" said Bonnie, snatching the bottle out of his hands and setting it back where it had been on the table. She turned and peered over her shoulder at the bar. Caroline was leaning halfway across the counter, her back to the booth. In the few seconds Bonnie watched, she tossed her blonde curls twice, but whatever she was saying, the bartender didn't look impressed.
"So how are the magic lessons going with Grandma these days?" said Damon.
Bonnie turned to face him again with a frown. "How do you know about that? Did Elena tell you?"
"I guessed. You've reached the age everyone else on your mom's side of the family was at when the witchy genes kicked in."
"Grams told me about how you've been keeping us safe for a long time."
"My end of a very, very old deal," said Damon. "As long as Emily's end does what she promised and Sheila doesn't try to set my brain on fire again, I see no reason to change the arrangement."
"Grams said witches shouldn't get mixed up in vampire business," said Bonnie, watching him closely. He gave her a weird feeling, a dangerous vibe she definitely hadn't gotten from Stefan, but there was still the thing about him protecting her family, and Elena wouldn't have risked her life for him if he was all bad.
"Sound advice," said Damon. His eyes flashed with something that made the weird feeling intensify. "Too bad it's almost impossible to follow."
Bonnie blinked, and he was gone. Ten seconds later, Caroline returned, a huge grin on her face and a beer bottle in her hand. "Did you see that?" she said.
"See what?" said Bonnie.
"Some insanely hot guy just scored me this," said Caroline, holding up the beer. "I don't know what he said to that bartender, but after he left, the guy handed it over like that." She snapped her fingers.
"Too bad you didn't get his number," said Bonnie. She failed to inject much enthusiasm into her voice, but Caroline didn't seem to notice.
"Ugh, I know, right?" she said, sliding back into the booth. "But the next time I see him, it's totally happening. Help me keep a look out in case he comes back, okay? He's got black hair, a leather jacket, and the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen."
"Yeah, sure," said Bonnie, while privately thinking that if she did catch a glimpse of him, there was no way in hell she was helping Caroline get anywhere near him.
X
So far, Elena had spent a good portion of the week in Michigan poring over the pages of her ancestors' journals. It made for fascinating reading. Her parents had already told her some of what had happened in 1864 and 1865, but their brief summary couldn't hold a candle to Johnathan Gilbert's detailed firsthand account. She couldn't wait to ask Damon about his side of the story when she got home.
"With the dying embers of the fire at Fell's Church, the scourge of the vampires had passed, and though war raged all around us, our town was safe from the demons of the night. …Or so we thought. The monsters we drove to their fiery deaths had begat new monsters. Thomas and Honoria Fell realized this to their cost, and I to mine, a week after the Battle of Willow Creek. They had invited me to dinner, and not long after we sat down to eat, Honoria heard a disturbance outside. Thomas went to investigate despite her words of caution. I followed, confident that my compass, still imbued with its strange power thanks to the work of Emily Bennett, would prove all fears to be groundless.
"We were both fools. Seconds after I stepped onto the Fells' porch, the needle of my compass began to spin. The next moment, Thomas had vanished. I looked everywhere, still unwilling to believe, but when his lifeless body fell to the ground mere yards from me, there could no longer be room for doubt. Honoria ran out of the house next, and the demon claimed her life as well.
"I knew I was about to die. You cannot run from a vampire. I saw the vampire who killed me; I recognized him. It was Stefan Salvatore."
Elena stopped reading, staring at the name scribbled in Johnathan's slanting script. Stefan had killed him? He'd killed one of her own ancestors, but had still looked her in the eye and told her to trust him, and that Damon was the dangerous one?
But then she realized what she'd just read and frowned, completely lost. How on earth had Johnathan written the story of his own death? She flipped forward in the journal; that entry wasn't even a third of the way in. The other two thirds were full of the same handwriting, and she knew there were several more journals by him on the shelf.
She stood up from the comfy armchair in the living room and ambled off in the direction of her parents' room, nose still in the journal, trying to figure out how this was possible. "Mom?" she said vaguely.
"What, honey?" said Miranda, setting down the Mary Higgins Clark book she'd been reading on the nightstand.
"I just read this part where Johnathan says he died. How could he have written that? Was he just exaggerating, or—" She broke off, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. "Did Stefan turn him into a vampire when he killed him?"
"No, no, nothing like that," said Miranda. "Johnathan was wearing a very special ring when he died. It protected him, and made it so he would come back."
Elena frowned. "What, like Damon and Stefan's daylight rings?"
Miranda raised her eyebrows. "Is that how they walk in sunlight?"
"Uh, yeah," said Elena. Her eyes went wide again. "Wait, is Johnathan's ring the one Dad has now? The one that's been passed down for generations?"
Miranda smiled. "That's the one," she said. "Luckily he's never needed to find out if it still works."
Elena shivered at the idea. "Yeah, that's good." She walked over to the closet, then into the little hidden armory room, where she returned Johnathan's journal to its shelf. She ran her finger down the spines of the other journals and picked one of them at random.
"Don't you want to wakeboard with Jeremy and your dad?" Miranda asked when Elena headed back out, clutching the new journal.
"Maybe later," she said. She took the journal back to her own room, flopped down on her bed, unwound the leather cord binding it shut, and had just enough time to read "This journal is the property of Agatha Elizabeth Breckenridge Gilbert, born March 10, 1816" on the inside cover when something fell out from between some of the middle pages and landed on the bedspread. It was a folded sheet of paper, as yellowed with age as the journal itself. Elena picked it up, turned it over, and unfolded it. It was a letter, written to Agatha Gilbert on August 21, 1844. Elena glanced at the bottom corner to find out who had sent it, and her lips parted in surprise.
She hastily read the letter all the way through, her mind reeling with excitement at the implications and possibilities. She would not be returning this letter to the Gilbert Chronicles bookshelf. It belonged somewhere else.
X
"You're sure?" said Carol Lockwood, her brow furrowed.
"I've spoken to most of the hospital staff who work the emergency room, and they haven't had anyone show up with neck wounds or blood loss in the last month," said Sheriff Forbes, leaning back in her desk chair. "I'm sure Grayson would have told us if he had any patients with injuries that could've been inflicted by vampires, but I'll ask him once he's back from vacation, just to be sure. Or maybe his secretary would remember something like that."
"Zach seemed so convinced there was reason to worry," said Carol. She shook her head. "You know, I never thought I'd be dealing with any of this myself? Richard brought me into it when I married him, but it still seemed so remote."
"I know how you feel, and I did grow up knowing about it," Liz sighed. "Even in a quiet town like this, as the sheriff, I've seen a lot more than I ever would've expected to, but at least those things I can deal with. Vampires are different."
"I spoke with Zach's nephew the other day," said Carol. "He might be stopping by here with the vervain."
"He's in on it?" said Liz, frowning. "I thought Zach's nephew was high school age."
"He has two nephews. There's Stefan, and then there's the older brother, Damon, who is up to speed and willing to help."
"And you think we can trust him?"
"Well, to be honest, he looks like the troublemaker type, but that could actually get him in some doors the rest of the Council can't go through. I do think he's trustworthy." She smiled, but it was full of anxiety as her thoughts turned to her son. "He's got a teenager to look after just like we do, Liz. I can trust that."
X
After finding the letter in Agatha's journal, Elena couldn't wait to get back to Mystic Falls. Her impatience only made the remaining time in Michigan seem to drag on forever, but at last, Sunday arrived, and home they went. As per her own tradition, she spent Sunday night at Bonnie's, where she and Bonnie talked late into the night about everything that had happened during their week long separation. But the reunion she had really been waiting for took place the next day at the Grill.
When she arrived at half past noon, Damon was already there, setting up a pool game over in the corner. It took a large portion of her self-control not to bound over to him like a spastic puppy in front of the decent sized crowd of other patrons, but she couldn't entirely keep the spring out of her step. She was only halfway across the restaurant when he spotted her. If she'd blinked, she would've missed the huge smile that split his face then, because an instant later, he replaced it with a casual smirk.
"Look who's back from her Michigan adventure," he said when she reached the pool table.
Rather than giving him a verbal greeting, Elena closed the remaining distance between them and threw her arms around him. "It was a fun trip, but it's good to be home," she said, her heart soaring when she felt him hug her back.
They broke apart, and he handed her a pool cue. "So what was that earlier about how you were going to wipe the floor with me at pool?" he said, knocking into her with his hip as he chalked the end of his cue.
"Hah! You're about to find out," she said, ramming him back. "My dad's the only one who can beat me at this game."
"Then I guess I know who I'll be playing against next," said Damon.
"Oho, we'll see about that."
"Ladies first," said Damon, gesturing gallantly at the racked balls.
"So…exactly how close did you come to dying of boredom while I was gone?" said Elena, taking the break shot and sending the fifteen balls ricocheting across the table in every direction.
"Oh, please," said Damon, prowling around the table until he found the angle that suited him. "I've been around ten times as long as you; I know how to stave off boredom."
"Then it wasn't you who had nothing better to do than talk to Bonnie and steal Caroline's fries the other day?" she said, timing the question just as he was taking aim. His shot missed, and the cue ball landed in the pocket nearest her.
"Haaa, good one," he said, shooting her a rueful smile. "I confess. Without Elena Gilbert, Mystic Falls is the single dullest town on the planet, and I was reduced to stealing fries."
"That's what I thought," she said smugly, setting the cue ball back on the table and taking aim.
"Doesn't mean you're going to win, though," said Damon in a sing-song voice, and suddenly, the nine ball, which she'd been aiming for when she took her shot, switched places with the eight ball. It missed the corner pocket by a fraction of an inch.
"Hey!" she said, smacking Damon on the arm. "No vamp speed during the game!" She lowered her voice in case anyone was listening, but Damon just laughed.
"That's never been in the rule book!" he said.
"Uh-uh," said Elena. "You, Mr. Cheater, can go buy me some bacon cheese fries while I take my shot again."
"What? How do I know you won't cheat right back?"
"Because I don't need to," said Elena, sticking out her tongue at him.
"This isn't over, Gilbert!" he said as he walked off towards the bar.
Elena snickered and moved the cue ball, eight ball, and nine ball back to where they'd been before her shot.
"So the truth finally comes out," said a voice behind her, making her jump.
"What do you mean?" she asked, slowly turning around to face Vicki Donovan.
Vicki scowled. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."
"It's not an act," said Elena. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you're a gold-digging slut who dumped my brother for the older guy who can afford designer clothes and classic convertibles."
Elena raised her eyebrows. Vicki might've gotten to her that first night after she broke up with Matt, but she wasn't going to take crap from her anymore. Summoning up her best Caroline impression, she narrowed her eyes and said, "There's only one gold-digging slut in here, Vicki, and we both know it's not me. Also, I'm pretty sure Tyler isn't falling for it."
Vicki's eyes flashed and her right hand shot out towards Elena's face, fingers curled and rigid so the long, painted nails would make contact with her cheek first—but they never got all the way to their target. Damon's hand had come out of nowhere to close around Vicki's wrist in an iron grip.
"I don't think this is your break time, busgirl," he said in a dangerous voice, catching her in his glare even as he released her arm. "Shouldn't you be cleaning the toilets?"
"I…um…sorry," said Vicki, eyes wide and dazed-looking. "I need to go clean the toilets." She turned and wandered away towards the bathrooms.
Elena watched her go with her mouth open. "Did you just do that compulsion thing on her?" she asked.
"Well, it was that or break her wrist," said Damon. "I thought you'd appreciate the less violent option." He held up the bacon cheese fries. "Your order."
"Thank you," she said, carefully selecting the fry with the most bacon and cheese on it. She ate it slowly, making sure to savor the flavor. "She's probably going to spread a rumor that I'm dating a guy in his twenties now," she sighed, resigned. Granted, the prospect of it only bothered her because it wasn't true, but she definitely wasn't going to tell him that.
"Pfft, all that'll do is make any woman in town who's seen me insanely jealous of you," said Damon.
"Shut up," Elena giggled, knocking into him again.
X
The first thing Grayson had noticed when he entered his office that morning was that some of his equipment and papers weren't in exactly the same places he'd left them. He'd had a couple of hours before any of his appointments arrived, and he'd spent them going over everything to make sure there was nothing missing. It all seemed to be there, and he was no closer to discovering what the intruder had been searching for. Fortunately, the disturbance appeared to be limited to his actual office; the basement seemed untouched. He had only one theory as to who could've been behind it: Richard Lockwood. Unfortunately for Richard, Grayson didn't keep Johnathan Gilbert's pocket watch in his office. It was tucked away in the safe at home.
His suspicions seemed confirmed when he came back from lunch to find Richard waiting for him.
"The watch?" he said as soon as he saw Grayson, skipping greetings and pleasantries entirely.
"It wasn't where I remember putting it at home," said Grayson coldly. "I think my brother might have it with him."
"How soon can you get it back here?"
"Depends how soon I can get a hold of John. He can be hard to reach sometimes, but I will get it."
"Make sure you do," said Richard. He began to make motions like he was going to leave the office, but paused for a few seconds to hold Grayson's glare. The atmosphere in the office was thick with the animosity the two men shared. "Liz talked to your secretary the other day," he said.
"And?" said Grayson, his eyes narrowing.
"She said you treated a woman a couple weeks back who came in with blood all over her neck."
"Yes, that was Jeanine Davenport," said Grayson. "I would've reported it to Liz right away if it was a vampire attack. I could show you her patient report if you want."
"Just tell me what happened," said Richard, the note of suspicion in his voice now replaced by impatience.
"She was camping alone, and she fell on the sharpened stick she was using to roast hot dogs. Missed the carotid artery, or she would've bled out within minutes, but it did some pretty severe damage to the jugular vein."
"Why didn't she just go to the emergency room?" said Richard.
"She doesn't live in Mystic Falls. She drove into town, and she found my office first. I stitched her up and gave her a transfusion. She's fine."
"And you're sure she wasn't attacked by a vampire. It could've fiddled with her memories."
"The wound pattern wasn't one that could've been made by teeth," said Grayson. "And it happened in the middle of the day."
This final detail, more than anything else, seemed to convince Richard at last. "Wonderful," he said, tossing up his hands. "Back to square one, until we have the compass."
"I prefer to think that no news is good news," said Grayson. "I'll get in touch as soon as I reach John."
Richard nodded curtly and left. Grayson watched him go, his lip curling. He would've loved to question him about breaking into the office while he was gone, but as much as he couldn't stand the man, he wasn't about to do anything that would make an enemy of him.
I really loved developing the backstory of the Gilbert/Lockwood rivalry in this chapter, and it looks like Jeremy might start figuring the supernatural stuff out soon, whether or not the grown-ups want him to know about it yet. Any guesses about the letter Elena found in Johnathan's mother's journal?