Chapter 9

The Turning Point

The first night passed in a blur. The latest possession had drained Bonnie, and he was too engrossed in his newfound freedom to dwell on all the catches that Emily Bennett had snuck into his escape from the prison world.

Somehow, Bonnie made it to school the next morning, with a parting warning for him to avoid drawing attention to himself and not to leave the house just for this first day.

"I'm not your pet warlock," he'd retorted, not relishing the thought of sitting by the door the whole day waiting for her.

But all she could give back was a tired, pleading look, and he found himself giving in.

She pointed to the computer and the video game consoles in the den, giving vague instructions that sounded like alien code to his ears. But soon he saw it wasn't rocket science. On the monitor, she'd set it to a white page with the word 'GOOGLE' dead center, in bright blue lettering. Obnoxious, but simple enough.

He settled in after breakfast and typed the first thing he could think of in the little box. 'Parker murders Oregon 1994' - and then proceeded to waste half the day reading everything he could find on the murders and his family.

There were a few websites about it, a segment of the population with a hard-on for the history of mass murderers, somehow carrying enough fascination about his siblings' deaths to reflect on events surrounding the crime. Gave him a better picture of how it got tied up neatly. It was exactly as he'd imagined. His father had gone to great lengths to make sure closure had been presented to the world at large. Some other poor schmuck had been found days later, burned to a crisp in the family car, enough like his frame and bone structure to satisfy everyone. 'Remains of madman suspected of murdering siblings, found at scene of fiery accident.'

Natural progression meant that he spent hours on conspiracy theorists dismantling the events of May 9, 1994. Strangely, he found only a tiny amount of family pictures associated with any articles. His own picture was missing. As the years passed, less and less news coverage became available.

His father had covered their tracks well.

He took a break. The few images he'd seen of his siblings brought their faces back into painfully vivid detail, and he could almost hear Joey in his ear, begging him for one last round on the latest inane video games. Or Susie's round face and watery blue eyes while she whined to Jo about needing the newest denim jacket because her friend Tiffany had bragged about hers.

Their features lingered behind his lids, the cacophony of their voices reaching to a fevered pitch inside his head.

By the time the lunch hour hit, Kai was pacing the entire length of the first floor, excreting fluids through his eyeballs enough that tearing them out felt like a good choice.

'Crying,' Bonnie had called it.

Sucked.

The rest of the afternoon, he stayed away from the computer. There was a PS3 set up across the room. Slim pickings, the game selection, but there was one about a man stuck on a ship in outer space surrounded by zombies. He killed a few hours on that, every once in a while rubbing at the leather band still wrapped around his wrist.

When Bonnie came home, she threw her backpack on the kitchen table and made a beeline for the couch, flopping down without a word. He was no longer playing the game, but instead watching the news without really seeing or hearing much. Something about a cold front, another thing about shady methhead parents whose baby went missing under mysterious circumstances-but who cared?

He turned to her, holding up his wrist with the band.

"The rocks on this and your new ring," he said. "Look like the stone Emily destroyed."

"Yeah."

He didn't notice at what point they had found their way onto his band-he'd been too caught up in the rush of inflicting bodily harm on another creature for the first time in over fifteen years. And then later, busy reveling in his freedom in between arguing with Bonnie over where he was supposed to sleep.

She reached over, trying to pull it off his wrist.

"Hey, handsy," he protested, but half-hearted because secretly, it gave him a thrill, being touched. He argued with himself that any woman could've done it and provoked that vaguely unsettling reaction in his stomach. It'd been way too long, after all.

"Take it off, see what happens."

So he did, several times. Nothing.

She moved onto homework, while he kept up several hours of trial and error trying to figure out what mystical properties their complementary accessories held. Eventually, he got bored and slipped outside, where night had settled over.

While he stood on the porch, he could hear Bonnie upstairs. Across the street, a car eased onto the driveway, and an older woman stepped out. She stopped in her tracks, staring at him with puzzlement on her face that grew more alarmed when he grinned. That scared her off, had her bustling inside her home with another anxious glance back.

So now he could be seen. He eyed the band on his wrist, speculating.

"What're you doing?" came the hiss from behind a few moments later.

Bonnie was head to toe in flannel, barely a strip of skin showing aside from her face, hands, and feet, and then for good measure, with an oversized fluffy robe atop everything. He knew based on past mirror-shares that she was probably more comfortable in shorts and a tee or a tank for bed. Something lurched distastefully again in his belly, but he didn't delve into it.

"Think I'm gonna pounce on you?" he couldn't help mumbling. "I'm a killer, not a rapist. Those baser instincts miss me, Bonnie."

She blinked back in confusion. "What're you talking about?"

"You're bundled like an Eskimo."

"I'm cold," she said. "Have you noticed it's forty-five degrees out?"

No, actually. He was in his usual tee shirt layers and a hoodie, and the last thing on his mind was something as trivial as the weather. "Funny thing. That cloak of liberation's been keeping me warm."

She rolled her eyes, plopping down on the swing bench. He leaned against the column, fiddling with the strap.

"Saw the old lady across the street."

She groaned. "Why are you being so careless? Mrs. Shaw is the nosiest woman on this block and my dad mows the front lawn for her so she keeps an extra eye out on me for him."

He shrugged. "Go do a spell on her to forget she saw me."

"How?" Her gaze turned intrigued. "There's such a thing?"

"Probably? I kinda just made that up."

"Stefan knows I'm a witch. Remember we read that a vampire has compulsion? I bet he's gonna try to find me to square things. Elena will put him up to it." She stared morosely out at the street. "Maybe I can ask him to compel Mrs. Shaw into forgetting everything she saw from her driveway. I can tell him she saw me practice magic on my porch."

"Oh, yeah. You buddy up with the brother of the man who tried to rip out your jugular." He made the a-okay gesture with his hands. "Great idea."

"I didn't say I have to like it. It's your fault anyway."

"Bonnie," he said lightly, making his way over to sit beside her. "You're way too uptight. If she tattles then tell your Dad a boy stopped by to see you and you turned him away. Pretend you're...any other girl."

But she seemed distracted, looking now between him and the house across the street, her frowny face in full swing. Gears turning in her mind, he could tell.

"Mrs. Shaw noticed you," she said softly. "But they didn't-Elena. Stefan and Damon." She grabbed his hand again, far too comfortable now with touching him, and who knew when she'd crossed that line, had probably never really consciously thought about just when exactly the imprisoned sociopath, somewhat declawed, had joined the ranks of people that she not only allowed into her personal space, but vice versa.

He wasn't sure if was all that pleasant, her invading his comfort zone. Doing the same to her gave him no trouble, but now the shoe was on the other foot and he couldn't decide if he liked wearing it.

Karma, again.

She took off the straps of his band carefully. He swallowed, eyeing her bowed head and the look of concentration on her face, which was scrubbed of all make up. Caramel cheeks turned the faintest pink hue. She offered up a picture so fresh and enticing that he had to avert his gaze. Except when he moved his head, then the scent of something slightly fruity and soapy clean wafted to his nose from her hair. He struggled not to lean in and inhale more deeply.

Muffling a curse, he took his hand back, rubbing at the skin on his wrist that burned from her touch.

"I'm heading out," he announced, scooting further away.

"Wait one sec," she said, offering him the band to hold while she stood and scurried off the porch. He watched her cross the lawn, knocking on her neighbor's door. Mrs. Shaw answered instantly, looking automatically to the porch and the visible expression of relief that crossed the older woman's face was clear, even yards away.

He waved his hands in the air, jumping and cavorting around the porch. The old woman continued smiling at Bonnie, her earlier concern fading. It was like he wasn't even there, to Mrs. Shaw at least.

As he'd suspected.

"Now we know one thing that does," Bonnie said when she returned to the porch. "You're the invisible man without it. Strange but helpful. You're gonna have to keep it off when my Dad is home."

"Or I find another place to stay and rejoin society like the good citizen that I can be. Wouldn't wanna waste this spell that tainted me with bits and pieces of your conscience."

"How do we know for sure that Grams was responsible for that?"

"We don't." He had his own ideas how that happened, but keeping mum felt right, just then.

"Let's ask her."

"Oh, geeze," he muttered. "Now you want me to have tea with your grandmother. The woman locked me up, Bonnie."

"And somehow put our paths to cross. Why? Are you afraid of her?"

He scoffed.

But yeah. He sure as hell didn't want to be imprisoned again. Also, Sheila Bennett would be quick to notice the awkwardness between him and Bonnie and probably make the worst assumptions. Not that he cared, but still...such a dicey situation all around. Then again, it wasn't a terrible idea, per se. Maybe he only needed to get out a little on his own. Get laid. Take that edge off. Then he could think more clearly about every damn problem that, through no fault of his own, he was suddenly mired in, here in Mystic Falls.

He had his own plans. One of them including a trip back home, to Oregon. And that couldn't wait too long, but he already suspected that it would need to involve Bonnie's consent. And her actual self. If the baseball that she'd kept harping about was any indication, he was fairly sure there was an acceptable roaming range set for him to stray from her, and exploring beyond it would invite problems.

An experiment for another day.

"Let's table it," he said now, throwing her a grin loaded with bite. "I'm famished, not eating makes me cranky, and if you don't feed me, I'm gonna go to the Grill where I might run into more of your friends. Shaky combo."

"Go, then," she said dismissively. "I don't care if you see them. They won't know you. When you said you were heading out, I thought you meant someplace more exciting than the Grill."

But now he didn't want to. "Aren't you worried I won't play nice?"

"Not really." Her fingers twirled the new ring absently. "I'm not your warden. And I don't have to be, do I?" she added, her smile colored with shades of smugness. "Now that you have fuzzy wuzzy feelings like the rest of us. Welcome to the human race, Kai Parker."

His nostrils flared in annoyance. Classic textbook effort, and he saw right through it; she wanted him gone. Also, the fact she didn't seem to care indicated their bond, yet again, meant he was having as much of an effect on her as she was on him. Would they get to the point that they switched personalities entirely?

It wasn't a bright thought-imagining himself as a conscientious sixteen year old girl.

Although one thing would stay the same since it was their shared character trait-sneakiness.

"You're up to something," he accused her now, right as she started to turn and head back in. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so eager to get rid of me."

She snorted, crossing her arms. "You're not my warden, either, Kai."

"Buuuut I am your guest. Feed me."

"And I'm for sure not your-" she paused, her face screwed up with indignation. "House bitch."

Which earned her a quirked brow. "Say what?" he asked. "At which point in the 21st century did they stop teaching you brats about the concept of being a good host?"

"You sound like a cranky old man. Who're you, Mr. Wilson?"

"I guess that makes you Dennis." He nudged her with an elbow. "Come on, you little punk. Let's see about leftovers, although I'm pretty sure I ate the last of them for lunch."

He walked back inside the house, Bonnie trailing behind him and grumbling the entire way to the kitchen, where he sat under soft pendant lights hanging overhead at the large island, waiting on her.

In a matter of minutes, a steaming plate of beef stew and mashed potatoes greeted him. He'd skipped it earlier during his rummaging, and for good reason. It looked precisely how it tasted. Like melted tires. The meat was rubbery and the potatoes awful, but he kept his commentary to a minimum. Apparently, papa Bennett had cooked it. The guardedness that was part and parcel of Bonnie, ever since he'd met her, lowered for a few moments, while she talked about helping her father cook earlier in the week.

"-we ended up having to call Grams for a consult," she added sheepishly. "Sort of saved the beef, but the potatoes..."

He chewed the food in question slowly, blank stare in place while his throat constricted, undecided on whether to choke back a laugh or spew out the offending items.

Her shoulders slumped. "Here." She tossed a napkin his way and he promptly spit his mouthful into it, crumpling it into a ball.

"He tried," she said, shrugging while she raided the fridge for the last cartons of Chinese food. "Least he's good at ordering take out."

And it wasn't disinterest, sitting there listening to her, but Kai just couldn't quite grasp how she was so attached to the guy. Her dad was barely home. So what if he decided to turn the stove on and throw some food into a pot? Was she that starved for affection that she couldn't see a pile of garbage when it was literally offered to her on a plate?

But as his brain followed that line of thought, he remembered his own father, and the portion of his childhood where the guy actually acted like one to him. There was a time that Kai had reveled in a father that took great pains to teach him not only magic, but how to change spark plugs on the car, and make a decent barbecue pulled pork.

It hadn't all been shitty, but how it eventually went down the drain still baffled him. Or maybe that was his sociopathy, not allowing him to fine tune others' response to acts that he'd indulged in on a whim or fit of anger. Such as draining a random witch of little slivers of magic; accidentally on purpose breaking one of his classmate's fingers; manipulating his way through coven gatherings by setting elders against each other. Joshua Parker wasn't the warmest person, was capable of turning a blind eye to what he liked to say were necessary evils-especially for the sake of the coven. But even certain things crossed a line for him. And by the time Kai realized getting dad's attention this way wasn't the most brilliant plan-

It was too late. Damage done. The era of being the family abomination was well underway.

Bonnie was still chattering, her back turned to him while she cleared out the sink. The turn of his thoughts were starting to annoy him, and why he couldn't get his mind off his family was a clear indication that tomorrow needed to go differently. There were things that needed doing; she knew that as well as he did. As he stared at her back encased in the fluffy robe that looked well-worn and achingly cozy, he found another reason to make sure day two offered him plenty of opportunities to find live bodies to connect with.

He needed to bang a chick. First come, first served. And by that, he meant any that weren't current residents of this house. Any whose first and last name didn't alliterate or begin with the second letter of the alphabet.

"I want to bury her," Bonnie said, whirling abruptly, her words bursting out like she'd been fighting to keep them from escaping. Her face was partially shadowed, the pendant light casting a soft glow on one side of her features, giving him a glimpse of the nervous resolve there. "And I need to tell Matt."

His soft snort of derision was her only response.

"It's the right thing to do."

"You're all kinds of deluded if you think I'll help you."

"Don't need your help."

"Or that I'll let you."

"Don't need your permission."

Somewhere inside him, a monster purred, licking its chops. "Your great-great-whatever Em didn't set me free just so I could point you in the direction of the state pen. So. No."

"Think you can stop me?"

"No need for that, Bonnie." He smiled at her with great patience, slurping up lo mein slowly. "Your friend's gonna think you're certified, and then when you produce his sister's corpse, he'll call the cops, you'll go to juvy, grow claws, hit the age of 18, do the rest of your time at the big house, and probably fill the slot of june bug cuz you're so gullible."

Every part of her bristled, even her robe, seemed like. "I guess you would know. You did massacre all those kids. I forgot to ask, did you run scenarios and numbers? Before that night?" She peered at him curiously. "What kind of jail time is normal for someone who drowns his own little brother?"

His fork clattered to his plate, the sound of it filling the room. They didn't break their stare, on her part he assumed because she was indulging her inner bitch and finding the novelty of it too enjoyable, probably, and on his part because his ears were roaring, the crevices inside his mind filling with the sound not of his dead siblings, but of his coven.

His father. That night, the spell, and the rending shriek that had gone unchecked between his ears, to the point where he thought they were bleeding, him on the ground curled into a fetal position trying to figure out how to stop it. And then it had, once he had crossed the threshold.

Once they'd jailed him.

"Sixteen years," he said softly. "Solitary confinement."

Her gaze remained even as he approached, his steps slow and easy, but he couldn't get his brain to follow suit, it felt scorched, needed ventilation. He suspected the best way to get that was to take the nearest sharp object and bury it in the side of her neck, about the only vulnerable part of her not covered in the robe.

"I didn't actually plan it," he confessed. "You'd think, right? I can be meticulous, ya know. But that night...it's not like I spent weeks hashing out which stair rails to tie a rope to that could carry the weight of a seventy-pound kid. Or how deep to bury the hunting knife, the right way to twist it so it pierced major organs in one shot."

When he stopped, it was inches from her face, near enough to feel her breath fanning his own neck collar. She glared at him but didn't look at all fazed by his words.

"I don't remember waking up that day and consciously thinking to myself-'Welp, lunch at BK and then dinner at home where you'll murder half your family.'" His finger reached out, tracing the fabric of her robe belt. That got a response-a tiny cringe. His jaw tightened, while he stared her down. "At some point, I did entertain thoughts. But I wouldn't call it premeditated."

She still stood her ground. "Bullying won't work on me."

"I'm not trying to intimidate you, Bonnie," he said, voice straining as he leaned in, letting his lips graze her ear. He was actually telling the truth here. His entire being was torn two ways just then, in a clear delineation of what he'd once been and who he was now. The monster, and the man. One part of him eager to rip her apart, piece by fleshy piece, with his bare hands.

The other part of him, dying to rip her clothes off. Just the clothes. To get to her skin-so he could taste every inch of her. Bury himself inside her, not so he could forget what he'd done but as a reminder that once, he'd been capable of normal things. Like getting close to someone without wanting to see pain bloom in their gaze.

He could make her scream, but not from fear.

She snatched her belt back from him, catching his fingers, and he grabbed her wrist in a grip caught between firm and frenzied. Of its own accord, his thumb rubbed the soft skin below her knuckles. Her quick inhale gave him no satisfaction. Neither did the way she tilted her head back, the defiance spelled out on her features almost but not quite hiding a spark of something else.

Her cheeks were turning the smallest hint rosy.

His own breathing slowed.

The kitchen was humid now, in a way it hadn't been just moments ago.

"Provoked," he whispered.

"What?" she breathed.

Their faces were so close right now, this time no possession or mirror or anything acted as a barrier or distraction, and Kai struggled, a buzz sounding suddenly above his head while jade eyes grew hazy and full pink lips parted the tiniest bit under his heavy, unwavering gaze-what the fuck was he doing? What was she?

Bzzzz-

Pop!

The kitchen plunged into darkness, while the sounds of what he assumed were shards of what had once been a fluorescent bulb showered the island.

Bonnie rushed away. A second later the kitchen brightened, and she stood by the switch for the recessed lights, blinking dazedly at him. Kai stepped backwards, way the hell back, as far away from her as he could get while trying to maintain a semblance of cool, covering with an indifferent smile thrown her way.

"I was provoked," he said, pouring whimsy into his tone and adding a careless shrug for good measure. "Not trying to excuse my actions, but that's what happened on May 9, 1994."

She stayed silent.

"And since you brought it up," he kept on, driven by an overwhelming need now to fill the silence, "I want it on record that I did my time. Maybe you could stop throwing it in my face? Since I did save you and your dead ancestor AKA my parole officer deemed that acceptable as a form of community service."

He could tell she was flustered-outright well out of her element, in the way her eyes were suddenly everywhere except on him. The trick was to pinpoint what caused that reaction. His words...or the moment they'd shared, before the light broke?

"Whatever," she mumbled, fumbling with her belt. "Just don't get in my way.

"Think that's actually my gig now. Where's your broom?"

"Pantry. Behind you." Then she dared a look his way. "You know that wasn't me, right?"

His return appraisal was skeptical. "Of the two people in this room now, only one has the ability to break a bulb long range. Without first having to suck the woo woo out of another witch."

"But I didn't do it, Kai."

"That same person is also the only one going through the emotional teenage phase that triggers things like, oh, bulbs freakishly exploding on their own, Bonnie."

"Could've fooled me," she muttered, glaring as she brushed past, shouldering him roughly while she stomped to her escape-from him, the situation, and the growing messiness between them. "I'm less of a headcase than you, or have you forgotten? And don't miss any of the shards," she added with a spiteful glance back before she disappeared into the hallway.

He exhaled slowly, allowing his eyes to shut and his fists in his pockets to ease, as he said, under his breath, "Keep provoking me, Bon, see what happens."

-oOoOo-

The building was plunked in the middle of a rowhouse neighborhood, complete with a library and a post office. A quiet haven, sitting amidst the bustle of Bronxville, NY, in an area that wouldn't invite regular visits from both cops or criminals.

Everything about the building was nondescript and hard to remember, and even staring at it she was hard pressed to describe even to herself its separate elements. It squatted without any brilliance or polish to it, despite the cheery afternoon sun beaming on the rest of the city. The building was halfway between gray and brown, its glass doors offering no clue as to its commercial purpose, and sparse windows on each side except the south. There stood taller windows, that overlooked a small fenced terrace with a view of the park across the street.

The rest of it innocuously forgettable, since someone had clearly, to her trained eye, glamoured the building in a way that almost made it see-through. Made to be forgotten, the moment anyone stopped looking.

Sheila kept her gaze on it, as she stepped out of the car.

Presently, a tall man dressed for the office walked out of its door. A marked change from the last time she'd seen him months ago. Then he'd been in jeans and plaid flannel, hands dirtied like he was an honest man tilling soil. Except in his case, the soil in question had come from hallowed ground, desecrated by a quartet of witches in order to use as ingredients for an unsanctioned spell.

Now his appearance offered a marked contrast. A sports coat and khakis completed the middle management look, and he departed the building with a portfolio in hand, carrying it with clear relief on his face. The chilly fall air carried bite, and she watched him tuck his chin into the collar of his coat, hunching his shoulders as if to disappear. She ducked her own head, the gust of wind blowing her hair into disarray, as tried to follow him unnoticed.

Halfway down the block, he stopped abruptly.

His back rigid, he tossed a half-glance back, as he greeted her. "Sheila."

"Joshua." She reached his side slowly, carefully glancing around her. It wasn't as if this was a new environment for her, but Geminis were notoriously tricky and she was far from any kind of mood to entertain unpleasant surprises.

"I always knew you were nosy, but tailing people? Isn't that a bit beneath a woman of your years?"

She smiled at him, even as her hands snatched the portfolio and her mental incantation revealed its contents, too quickly for him to even attempt to hide or retrieve. The cover of his binder turned see-through as she perused it, serenely at first, before her eyes marginally widened.

"They got away from you again?" She tsked, passing him back the portfolio and ignoring the scowl on his face. "You keep losing your kids, Joshua. Terrible habit, that."

His answering smile was fleeting and tight. "Running away turned into their hobby, soon as the twins passed puberty."

She pursed her mouth, staring back at the building he'd just departed from. "Apparently they're good enough at running and staying gone that you need the services of a unique PI."

Clear dismay radiated off his form in waves; apparently he'd forgotten how well connected she was. "It's not often that you associate with an estranged former member of your coven. Even more rare for them to welcome you inside their place of business." She slid her hands inside her coat pockets, walking past him, not bothering to see if he followed.

Of course he did, but only after a few moments of hesitation.

"When I saw you go inside," she said dryly. "I half expected an explosion to follow."

"Ten years ago, you would've been correct."

"What's changed?"

His grimace became pronounced. "What else?"

That one, she didn't bother answering. For an asshole like Joshua Parker, karma had delivered plenty. First the death of his wife less than a year after delivering their last set of twins. Then the murders of his four other children-at the hands of his heir, no less. That one would have broken other men. For the ruler of a two thousand year old secretive, selective coven, it meant unyielding, almost unflinching stoicism, the kind that some would have called heartless. His own daughter certainly did.

Josette Parker had left the family home and cut off ties with the coven and her father, hiding out somewhere unknown, staying under everyone's radar. Coven elders suspected the help of a senior witch, perhaps someone from the Tribunal. But Joshua had never pursued any rumors, not even the ones that indicated Sheila's involvement. A few members of the council had assumed it meant war with the Bennett matriarch. But Joshua had dismissed it, turned their collective attention to other matters-namely, to Olivia and Lucas's protection, ushering them into a childhood raised as orphans, keeping tabs of them where no witch would think to look.

Away from the Geminis, he'd made sure his surviving set of heirs knew nothing but a stringent life, letting them suffer the knocks, bruises, and bleeds inherent in being raised under the foster system. Not always-he'd known to slip in time with an affectionate family here and there-had calculated everything to perfection.

He didn't want a repeat experience, having to accept another of his own was an utter monster.

Sheila hadn't always seen the value of it. Certainly his methods were nothing like what she espoused, but it was apples to oranges and time with numerous covens as well as with the Tribunal had taught her to stay in her own lane. So long as the international code was being met, there was no reason to intervene.

And she'd certainly done her share of poking her nose in already, bringing Josette into her tutelage. Which Joshua had turned a blind eye to for over a decade.

Which made him, in her eyes, several degrees shy of being a terrible father.

It was what she was banking on now, the reason why she'd gone all in to approach him this way. Olivia and Lucas had reached their majority age. Eighteen; the official era of prepping for the merge ceremony, when they turned twenty-two. Her sources had told her the pair had gone missing a month ago. Their fourth attempt at running away since being brought back into the Gemini fold.

Joshua's attempts to control them weren't going well, or so she'd heard.

"I can help, you know."

"Of course you can," he said evenly, but his brisk pace told her everything else. "Do I need to remind you that your presence here is bordering on trespassing? This is Gemini territory."

That sparked a wave of ill temper. The man was stubborn, arrogant, and clearly falling into incompetence, unable to even see how the house of cards that he'd built was tumbling around his ears. And despite his duplicity in their past dealings, she was still offering him help?

She waved a hand impatiently, freezing him just before he could start crossing the street.

"I suggest," she said in her best diplomatic tones, "You think long and hard about my offer. You were supposed to help me save my granddaughter. Instead, she goes through a personality transplant and I catch her talking to herself in front of a mirror all day, every day." The steel in her tone translated into an iron on grip on the man. His features contorted, the invisible vise of her magic tightening around him uncomfortably. "By right of Tribunal law, I could break every bone in your body right now without any consequence. Instead, I'm extending a helping hand."

Black eyes remained suspicious, interrupted only by the briefest flash of doubt. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What did you slip into the linking spell?"

"Only what you requested. A mystical bridge, to tie your granddaughter to another realm-eargh!" His cry of pain went unnoticed by passersby, who continued on their way as if neither Sheila nor Joshua were standing on the street having a public confrontation involving his body being held ramrod straight by an unseen force.

She strolled easily up to him, ever so slightly loosening her grip. "I already ate my lunch, but I'm due for my afternoon tea."

His nostrils expanding and contracting seemed to indicate rage, but she knew better. He was biting back another sound of pain. She wasn't surprised when he nodded slightly, eyes broadcasting begrudging acceptance of her unspoken compromise.

"Why don't I join you," he grumbled. "We can hash it out like civilized witches."

"And you'd best serve up the truth this time. I've had it with your chicanery, Joshua."

This time when he offered up his broken smile, she saw a little hint of defeat in it.

"Would you believe, Sheila? So have I."

-oOoOo-

Kai didn't make it home the second night until just before dawn. She knew because she stayed up, wondering idly if he'd found someone to kill or have sex with. Preferably not both, and no sooner did that thought cross her mind than a wave of shame suffused her. Since meeting him, his actions hadn't shown her anything but someone unstable whose past was something that he'd already been punished for. He'd said as much himself. Parts of her rebelled against letting it go, though, and she couldn't help it. In her own experience, people didn't change overnight.

Except magic was involved and now, people were changing. If not overnight, then a few months had done it.

On the second and third nights, he came home even later. He didn't stagger in drunk, never made much of a sound-probably his killer instincts on automatic, forever set to sneak-mode. But she could always tell, somehow, eyes snapping open as soon as he walked in. Her dad probably wouldn't have picked up on it, but then again Kai was nothing if not regimented about taking his band off as soon as he got on her block. She didn't even have to nag him to do it. Even if he goofed, her father would never know it, unable to see their unexpected houseguest thanks to the cloak that protected him, once the leather band disappeared from his wrist.

One of the few things that went their way was her father being called away on an extended trip overseas and Grams mysteriously AWOL all week, although she did call daily to check in. Every time, something in her grandmother's voice gave Bonnie the goosebumps, and it was nothing specifically said aloud. Yet it happened, and she grew to dread anytime the phone rang.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked Grams on the most recent call.

It was followed by a pause that went on forever. Bonnie was on the verge of wondering if the signal had died when she heard a sigh, and then the words that never meant anything good.

"We'll talk when I get back."

On the fourth night, Bonnie didn't bother waiting for Kai. He was busy, had roughly two decades to catch up on, his own business to attend to, and she didn't feel like pulling herself into that mess. Not to mention, she had no intention letting him ruin her own plans.

Vicky's body growing more and more decayed on that slopey little hill gnawed at the recesses of her brain, prompting impromptu visits to her unplanned, sloppy grave. Bonnie went once more after cheerleading practice that week, scoping out the area with an uncertain eye. But her resolve was overpowering. Doggedly, she attempted a cloaking spell that ended up leaving her legs invisible. The spell to change the color of her car was the only thing about her excursion that came easy. Levitating Vicky proved trickier, and she whispered a prayer for the girl as she fumblingly floated her inside the trunk, scanning the area all the while to ensure there was no witness.

Digging up and carting off a corpse shouldn't have been this involved, but it was trial and error and nobody was in her way. By the end of it, her uniform was a muddied mess.

On her way back home, she drove past the Grill.

By chance, the light turned red. Great timing. Bonnie slumped down in her seat, keeping her head low and her sunglasses in place. She tossed a glance to the window of the diner, gasping when she found Kai.

He sat in a booth, across from a brunette who was smiling and talking, by turns animated and then flirty. Kai, naturally, eating it all up, Bonnie saw, one arm extended along the back of his booth while he leaned back offering that smug little smirk, coaxing a lip-bite from the brunette that Bonnie could clearly read was a definite sign of interest. Someone would get laid, really soon.

Bonnie looked at the light.

Turn green c'mon hurry up stupid green green green...

As fate would have it, the light did change.

About time.

But at the same moment that Kai's head swerved, casually, his eyes roaming and resting directly on Bonnie's car. She ducked her head lower, keeping her face averted. At the last second she couldn't help herself. When she turned to quickly glance back, the crease between his brow was just clearing, his face registering disbelief as he returned her stare.

Then his face turned expressionless, totally calm, the pucker in his brows gone. And he went back to his charming grin, once more focusing on his date.

Bonnie skedaddled, burning rubber as she left.

Burying Vicky was a trickier feat. Luckily, she had help on that one.

"I swear, Bonnie. You need to go out more. A trip to the cemetery on a Friday afternoon? Not exactly happy hour."

Caroline came stomping through the front door, keys jangling in hand and clunky heels clopping loudly on the tiles.

Which came to a screeching halt, when she saw Bonnie.

"What-" The blonde blinked rapidly, her eyes going from Bonnie's head and stomach to the blank space where her legs should've been. "I don't-" A shaky finger raised, dropped, then whipped back up, and her friend emitted what sounded like a cross between a shriek and a scream.

Bonnie ran forward, muffling her with a hand to her mouth.

"Stop it, Care," she seethed.

"Mmfwmmf!"

"I'm gonna let go, you're gonna be quieter. I'm fine, by the way. I just hid my legs."

Slowly, she pulled back, cautious as her friend's eyes remained wide and buggy. Bonnie wasn't a fan of histrionics, but unfortunately the blonde had a certain flair for it.

"On purpose?" Caroline demanded.

Bonnie rolled her eyes, jumping into the explanation. While she liked to think Kai was too busy working off a decade and a half of sexual frustration, there was no guarantee his innate nosiness wouldn't lead him to cut short his own fun.

The idiot.

Surprisingly, Caroline exceeded expectations. Her spells, her magic, all of that her friend took with aplomb because it wasn't as if she hadn't had a taste, with that seance. It hit Bonnie then that Caroline was as affected as the rest of them. That eternally snarky pep she wore like armor held up even when Bonnie stumbled out the explanation about the Salvatores and vampirism. More than likely Caroline had already figured out parts of the formula there, even on a subconscious level.

It was bringing her to the trunk and showing her Vicky, where Caroline's spirit took the expected hit.

The blonde vomited, all over Bonnie's garage. Probably a little bit over Bonnie's invisible sneakers.

A roll of paper towels, a bottle of Lysol, and three mini blonde freak-outs later, which equated to roughly twenty minutes, the pair were on their way to the Grove, the smaller cemetery on the south side of town where the Donovan family plot lay.

"Okay." Caroline nervously fingered her skirt and her hair, blowing out calming breaths while her eyes darted to the rearview mirror. She'd done that all through the ride. Bonnie suspected her friend was waiting any minute for Vicky's corpse to burst out from the trunk screaming bloody Mary. "How do I look?""

Caroline simpered, offering an innocent pout complete with wide eyes and fluttering lashes. It helped that Bonnie had come around twice and met the security guard on duty during the day, as well as the funeral parlor owner, Mr. Lawson, who was a decade away from becoming a permanent fixture himself on the trim little land speckled with neat headstones. He hadn't been so watchful on Bonnie's last scouting session, more than half his attention staying on the flat screen in his office showing reruns of Dr. Oz.

Meanwhile, the young, fresh out of college guard detail had an eye for anything in a skirt. She'd gotten a lot of info from him on the last visit, pretending t o be an out of town visitor with an elderly uncle shopping around for his burial plan.

"Like a lost little lamb," Bonnie said. "Only, ya know, hot."

"And hopefully not up for sacrificial slaughter," Caroline muttered, then her caught herself, looking stricken, right before alarm spread over her pert features. "Ohmigod...do you and your Grams do that?"

"Yes, every night before bed. We round up tiny woodland creatures for a bloody offering with just the butter knife."

It was hard, repressing the urge to throw her friend her fed-up look of death, but she managed, or close enough. Caroline returned with a sharp mocking glare of her own, before she fled the car.

Circling around, Bonnie parked on the side of the cemetery nearest the Donovan plot of land. It was on the furthest edge towards the back. One lone mausoleum stood there, gray stone cracked and chipped and the iron bars appearing partially bent, like someone had broken inside. She passed it by, stopping where Donovan names rested. In a corner was telltale opening, wide enough for accommodation.

Bonnie narrowed her attention on the wooden sheets in her backseat, water-resistant, bought from the home improvement store with the money she'd earned from several months of baby-sitting. She'd coated it with magic to boot, thinking to use it to erect something to serve as a barrier, keeping anyone out, human or otherwise. It was much as Vicky deserved. Never able to find peace in her short, troubled time on earth, the least Bonnie could do for her was make sure the girl rested undisturbed from now on.

She imagined the wooden planks at her feet, in layers, until they resembled a coffin. Long on the sides, short at the edges, the topmost part remaining open. The magic under her skin simmered, heating her with a warmth that felt comforting and let her know that it was working.

Distantly while she cast the spell, the sound of thunder reached her ears. She ignored it, focusing next on Vicky, trying to bring her corpse to rest inside the makeshift coffin. Her magic roiled, her stomach turning just a touch queasy and that was normal, the taste of death repellant to her powers that rooted in the natural, the living. And yet she held on, mystical energies curiously wrapping around the body, the vibrancy of her magic strangely fascinated by the obvious, odorous entropy it confronted.

Bonnie opened her eyes.

Vicky lay within the planks, wrapped in a white blanket from head to toe.

Rain began drizzling down then; there was no time to offer more than a whispered good-bye, one that she'd heard years back, at a distant cousin's funeral. She'd been young, but the priest in his somber black and the crowd of mourners wailing had left an impression.

"Blessed are the dead," she said softly, offering her face up to the sky, letting little droplets of water caress her lashes, feeling them trickle down her cheeks. "For they rest from their labors."

With a firm clatter, the final plank closed over Vicky's form. Bonnie parted her hands, letting the last of her magic work to disturb the grass, lowering the coffin in. Rain poured more heavily now, drenching her and battering the ground, leaving a sopping mess and making it harder to restore the ground.

Eventually the raindrops turned red. Crimson bloomed along the chest of her cheerleading uniform; in a daze she blinked at herself, before it registered. Sweeping the back of her hand across her nose and mouth, she wiped away the blood trickling there, then whirled, stalking across the yard back to the car, relieved that at least if nothing else she could finish up by making use of the shovel she'd bought last minute just for this scenario.

When she passed the mausoleum, a hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, yanking her roughly inside.

Her back collided against cold stone.

"Hey!" she exclaimed in protest. "Wha-"

"Shhh."

A storm-tossed gaze met hers, turbulent and promising more than a hint of violence. Kai glared down at her, one brow quirked.

"Get off me," she said hotly, pushing him away but he didn't budge, not even an inch, so she tried again, using the small vestige of magic left in her bones.

He flew across the space, landing harshly on the other side.

"Nice effort," he said, pushing off and straightening, before moseying back towards her. She backed away slowly; not that there was much room for escape, especially since her throw meant he was closer to the exit than she was. But she could at least put a few feet between them. "Too bad your well's dried up."

"That wasn't the last of my powers," she threatened with a bald-faced lie. "And why are you here? I haven't seen you in almost three days and you pick now to show up? Go back to your clubbing, barhopping, and boozing."

His chortle irritated her, had her biting her tongue to keep from making more acidic comments about his new social life.

"I'm not kidding. Go away."

"It's petty to be all, 'ooh, you're never home' when technically it's not even my home."

"I don't think I said that. Ever."

"You sound like you want to."

"I really don't care what you do on your own time, as long as you're not building body counts."

"Okay, what's your take on me watching other people do that?"

She blinked back her reply, considering his question. "Who's doing that?"

"Your new history teacher." Then, when her jaw dropped in disbelief. "Oh snap, you had no idea." He grinned smugly. "Shocker, but not."

"That's what you've been up to all this time? Spying on school staff?"

"Among other things." He moved nearer, then lifted his hands in dismissal at her. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Bonnie."

"I know."

He stopped. "Why are you running away?"

She waved a hand impatiently. "You're doing that thing."

"Thing?" he drawled. "Have I mentioned how much language in today's youth sucks? I mean, the 90s wasn't exactly the Renaissance, but seriously you kids make our generation look like geniuses."

"I want you out of my face!"

"Why? So I don't notice the blood stains there? Or how about on your uniform? Which, by the way," he paused, drawing in a breath, his gaze arrested momentarily on her torso. She wasn't even sure if he was just brazenly staring at her chest or the blood on it, didn't have time to decide, before he swept a look back to her face, swallowing audibly. "Is ruined. It's a real bitch getting bloodstains out. Shame, ya know? You-" he cut another glance at her. "Could've looked like a normal girl for once in that. Without all that heavy mopey adolescent angst in your aura."

"I don't mope."

"You don't think so?" He gestured with a hand out to the outside, where torrential rain beat on the waiting world, so thick she could hardly see beyond the gray opaque sheet of water careening from the skies. "It's really getting old, Bonnie. How much you care. To the point where it's detrimental to your sanity. Your well-being." He laughed, rubbing at his chin where, she dimly realized, he'd suddenly sprouted unfamiliar fuzz. "What is wrong with you? She wasn't even your friend."

"Matt is. He's worried sick about her. I don't care if we weren't friends. She couldn't stay covered in three inches of mud, Kai. Why don't you get it?"

He gave her a patient look.

Oh. Right.

What did it matter? She stalked past him, crossing her arms and glaring outside. "It's over and done with anyway. Too late to stop me."

"Sloppy, though. You left it where anyone could see an unfinished grave. Also, where did your legs go?"

"I was going for the shovel in the car." Her scoff echoed disdainfully along the walls of the mausoleum. "Some jerk pulled me in here before I could finish. And don't worry about my body parts. I was...just messing around."

"Mmm. By messing around you mean you got a spell wrong in your quest to become a body snatcher with a heart of gold."

He came to a stop behind her, not quite touching but near enough that his length warmed her back. She didn't move away this time, just tilted her head, her eyes not meeting his but sensing that his gaze was on the side of her face, roaming her features. It wasn't the first time she'd felt him look this way at her; only now, she invited it, let him get his fill.

She wasn't stupid. Up until now, it had all been tucked in the corner of her mind, this thing between them. A thing that had sprouted rabid wings and taken off, ever since that night Emily freed him.

They were in deep trouble.

"Why go to so much effort, hmm?"

She shrugged.

"What, is Matt like your crush or something?"

"No."

She felt him shift fractionally closer. "Bonnie..."

Unbidden, the image of him through the diner popped up, and she started, remembering the girl he'd been with. She rounded on him, narrowing her eyes. "What happened to your date?" she asked.

"Wasn't a date," he said evenly. "What do you guys call it now? Hang up?"

Her exhaled puff of air was a sound of pure annoyance. "Did you cut short your hook-up so you could spy on me?"

"We were done, Bonnie. I left-"

"Right. To do your job and play watch dog. I'll make it easier for you, Kai. You're released from your duties, okay? Take the night off. Go back to your-whatever."

His hand found her arm again, viselike grip staying despite her best effort to pull away. He trapped her between himself and the wall, pressing close while his eyes shut and his breath ghosted over her face. Through the sudden flash of pain, the deceptive sense of tearing on her skin while she suffered the loss of magic, she made out his words, accents of an old spell in his soft incantation.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled again, softer this time, and with it came the easing of the flash storm. The rapid staccato beat of rain on the stone overhead gentled, slowed. Her own breath followed suit when his hand fell away but their bodies stayed rooted in place, chests touching.

"It's finished," he said raggedly. "She's buried."

She didn't dare glance up as she said, quietly, "Thanks."

"Didn't do it for you," he mumbled.

Why she wanted him to understand evaded her. But it was there, the need to make him see. Even though he was missing certain cogs, he was still capable of understanding the process, of seeing why things-people-worked the way they did.

"She and I didn't talk a lot, but Matt told me a while back that Vicky liked to make her own clothes. Had big plans to go to New York, apply to FIT. She had a sewing machine from their grandmother that she kept for like, twelve years, even after it broke. But they never had enough money to replace it." She reached up, absently picking at lint on his jacket, catching the convulsive bob of his Adam's apple that her action caused.

"One year, like the last year that their mom was around, actually, Matt invited me and Elena over for Christmas. I remembered what he'd said about Vicky's sewing machine. We did a Secret Santa, and Vicky was mine." She shook her head, sighing. "I didn't know, but there was a ten dollar limit on the gifts. Turned out, I was also Vicky's. Mine was a CD-Toni Braxton, because I was on a 90s kick a couple years ago. I don't know how she knew. And Vicky-"

Vicky had opened hers, finding the sewing machine that Bonnie had used a month's worth of advance allowance on. Bonnie hadn't thought of anything except doing her friend's sister a solid. It hadn't once crossed her mind that expensive gifts like that could be taken the wrong way.

She remembered seeing the warring pleasure and shock and then shame, finally replaced by outrage, crossing Vicky's eyes, while they darted between first the large gift in her lap, then at the CD on Bonnie's.

"You spoiled little rich Daddy's girls have no sense," she'd sneered, letting the box tumble to the floor, while she pointed accusingly at her brother. "Is she your guest, Mattie, or here to give us more handouts?"

All of it, a slap in the face to Bonnie. After that, she hadn't tried again with Vicky. They had no middle ground. Their backgrounds and personalities too far apart. Elena had tried to bridge the gap that formed, but Bonnie was stubborn and Vicky?

The girl liked building castles in the air, keeping her head above the clouds while she coasted by. Making bad choice after bad choice, running with all the crowds that kept her cocooned in a toxic state of highs and really, really mind-numbing lows.

And now she was dead. What was left inside of Bonnie was a permeating sense of regret, mostly. Not even guilt. Just sadness.

"She didn't keep the sewing machine. And I get it now. Back then, I was a little stupid." Bonnie let out a shaky smile. "I just kinda wanted to give her something I think she would've appreciated, you know? Except...maybe if you see the kinda broke-down coffin I made, you wouldn't say so."

He said nothing for a few moments. She kept her gaze averted, suddenly feeling dumb, the sense of it growing and spurring her to seek distance between them.

Overhead it was quiet, the air still.

"Rain stopped," she mumbled, moving to the exit. "Caroline's out there, probably ready to drown me for keeping her stuck playing diversion."

She was halfway out the mausoleum, taking in the after-rain crispness in the air, so much lighter outdoors compared to how thick it was where she'd left.

"Bon."

Stilling, she glanced over her shoulder, watching him approach.

"I'm not gonna say she sounded like a bitch," he drawled, "although I probably wouldn't be wrong, right?"

Before she could muster a reply to that, he brushed a deft finger against her sweater, just at the collar of her uniform. Still stained with crimson.

"Maybe it wasn't your brightest idea," he murmured. "But I would've kept it. Your gift."

A smile broke out on her face, wide and open and too many kinds of pleased for her to filter through right now. But it felt like her face was splitting in half, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

She finally chanced a direct gaze at him then. And found him looking much the same. From there, it was easy to keep smiling like a fool, and hard-super, ridiculously, hard, practically a violent fight with herself, trying to tear her eyes away. Days old stubble lined his jaw now, his hair abruptly longer than it was. Where was the clean shaven college boy sociopath? He'd faded away, replaced by someone else who seemed older and less of a dick. She wasn't sure she liked the sudden changes, but then-couldn't stop tracking them. What was wrong with her?

"Bonnie Sheila Bennett!" came the familiar high-pitched voice, whip sharp in the air and cutting across the fog in her mind. "What're you doing? How dare you keep me waiting? You know-oh, whoa-hey, hello...hellooo?"

Kai slid his gaze away, slow, giving the appearance that he was dragging his eyes through mud. Bonnie did likewise.

Both of them stared as if in a stupor at the blonde standing before them, hands on her hips and thin, fine brows raised expectantly.

"Oh, I see. Leave it to you to add a third party to our little outfit without telling me. Who the hell is he, Bonnie?"

A/N:

Hey, guys. Thanks so much for the reviews...all of a sudden today my inbox got flooded with them and that is much appreciated especially with the ROUGH ass couple weeks. Mostly thanks to work. It's killer. I don't know, with the way it's been going I'm afraid the updates will stay about the same. Sorry. But crossing fingers that it settles down or like I win the lottery? Leaning towards the latter. :)

Charade update...I don't even know, guys. Special shout out to leianaberrie for being an awesome beta. I'm reworking it now, and hoping it's out before Halloween.

Next few months is going to be bumpy b/c work UGH...so just hang in there, and remember that I'm Bonkai to the core so none of these stories are gonna be abandoned. Got it? Aight. :)