Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing, favoriting and following!

Chapter 3
Sudden Perceptions

Claire's eyes opened as soon as the alarm went off. Putting a swift end to the flowing sound, she lay motionless, staring ahead. Her heart still beat violently against her ribcage. Her breathing was painfully audible. Darkness — not the suffocating darkness in the woods after sundown, but night over an open space bordered by buildings — and something flashing like lightning toward a stationary figure. That was all she could remember of the nightmare. And even that was beginning to slowly fade now, leaving behind the lingering sense of terror.

Once the pounding in her chest subsided, she sat up. No time for an early jog to take her mind off the sensation. She'd have to wait it out. She got dressed and sat again, still unable to shake the feeling. Cicero came to rub against her legs. Claire picked him up. His eyes were beginning to change color, she noticed, turning greenish. He purred as she scratched under his chin, and Claire smiled.

•

Unlike a few days previously, this nightmare didn't haunt her throughout the school hours. It broke the surface of her subconscious only once, in her freshman class. She had set her students sketching and was walking between the tables, looking over their work.

"That's good. Loose, light lines, not too much pressure on the paper."

The boy she addressed continued drawing, but one corner of his mouth hiked up.

"No need to worry about detail now, you'll refine it later." This was aimed at a blond who fretted over detailing his half-finished initial sketch.

The next student she walked by had already defined the shapes on her page, drawing low buildings against a dark background. The scene from her dream flashed suddenly before Claire's eyes. She stood still.

"Ms. Duval, are you alright?"

Claire blinked. Her freshmen were staring at her. "Yes, just a dizzy spell." She gave the girl who had spoken a small smile, her vision clear of pitch-black night and human figures. She continued walking between the tables.

The nightmare was quickly driven from her conscious mind, and the feeling of unease that went with it was gone before the bell rang.

During lunch break, Claire noted once more that Saturday's football game was the main topic of discussion, among both the student body and the faculty. Then, when she, Lisa and Martin went to the Mystic Grill for a cup of coffee after school, the biology teacher suddenly grew even more excited about the event.

"You'll probably miss out if you don't come tomorrow night." He put his phone on the table, screen still lit, and addressed Claire, knowing Lisa was not one to miss the game. His eyes were bright. "I know, I know, you're not much of a football fan," he went on before she had a chance to respond, "but" — he paused for effect, looking from one woman to the other — "there've just been updates. Straight from the source." He tapped his phone. "We have a chance to win this time. New blood on the team, wide receiver, and to hear Will talk, he's a real talent. Stefan Salvatore."

Claire's eyebrows rose. "Salvatore? Founding family Salvatore?"

"Distant relation," Martin answered.

Claire let out a sudden half-chuckle. "Let's hope he will prove to be a savior for the Timberwolves. They need it." She drew in a quick breath and made a slight grimace. "That was mean."

"It was true," Lisa said. "God knows our football team hasn't seen a victory in ages."

"So . . . are you coming?" Martin asked again.

Claire hummed. "Maybe. It's the first game of the season, after all."

•

When she got home, she stretched out on the couch in the living room. The few moments of absolute quiet that followed came to an abrupt end when her phone rang. She reached for it slowly, sitting up when she saw it was Jenna.

"Hey. What are you doing tonight?"

Her friend was cheerful. It was infectious.

"I don't have any plans."

"Great." Jenna's good mood was nearly tangible. "Elena's having Bonnie and her new boyfriend over for dinner, so I'll make myself scarce. Wanna go to the movies?"

Claire gave the proposition some thought. "How about you come to my place for movie night? I'll cook."

She could almost hear Jenna smiling.

"Deal. I'll be there by eight."

And true to her word, she got there before then. When Claire opened the door, Jenna held up a little cardboard box. "I brought dessert. Cupcakes." Once she had taken her load to the kitchen, she looked around and turned to Claire. "I want fluff."

Pulling out a pot and skillet from a cupboard, Claire looked over her shoulder. "Go choose."

Jenna took herself off to the living room. After a brief bustle, there was silence, during which the only sound came from the kitchen — a knife on the cutting board. Then —

"Found it! Under the Tuscan Sun."

Claire chuckled. "Nice. It suits dinner perfectly."

"Pasta?"

"Carbonara."

There was a momentary pause.

"Need any help in there?"

Again, Jenna's tone overflowed with amusement. Claire's lip quirked. "Nah, I'm more than good, thanks." She sobered, reaching for the grater. "I'll be done in twenty minutes." The parmesan smelled divine. "There's a Pinot Gris in the wine rack. Put it in the fridge to chill?"

"Done."

She heard Jenna moving toward the small room next to the kitchen, and a few minutes later the fridge opened and closed again. A chair was drawn back from the table.

"Gah!"

Claire's hand clenched around the handle of the skillet. Thankfully, the bacon remained undisturbed. Relaxing her grip, she turned to see a standing, rigid Jenna clutching the back of her chair, gazing down.

"I almost stepped on him."

The black kitten didn't seem bothered by the fact. He looked up at Jenna until she sank down to crouch beside him.

"So this is Cicero." She didn't touch him, but he pressed against her calf, tail twitching. "Cute." Jenna put out a tentative hand.

•

Saturday dawned bright and warm. Even so, Claire was glad for the opportunity to sleep in — those two-something hours of extra rest made a big difference. She spent most of the morning and afternoon reading, rolling a sisal ball on the floor for Cicero to chase, and weeding her garden. As the sky grew dimmer, however, a feeling of restlessness began to creep over her. Partial as she was to the quiet, there was only so much time one could spend alone. She called Lisa and made ready to go to the game.

When she reached the football pitch, the bleachers were already swarming with fans. She made her way to where Lisa had told her she and her husband had found seats.

To one side of the field, the cheerleaders were warming up. Claire made out Liz Forbes' daughter, her blond hair and black scarf making her stand out from the rest. She wondered briefly at the choice of accessory, but her attention was soon caught by Lisa waving at her from where she stood a few rows ahead. She joined the couple, and they waited for the referee and teams to enter the field.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. At one point, there was a flurry of movement on the very fringes of the field, a small group huddling together, their gestures agitated. Then all was normal again. After some time, Principal Weber walked onto the pitch, microphone in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, students and parents." His voice was halting. "Tonight's football game is canceled." He waited for the hubbub that rose in the stands to subside. "I find myself in the unpleasant position to announce that another animal attack has just occurred, here, at our school. And it is with deepest grief that I must inform you that the victim is our own history teacher, William Tanner."

The murmurs that had begun filling the stands were now reverberating through the football pitch. The principal waited for a lull in the noise. He went on to say that all competent authorities had been notified and that the sheriff's deputies would soon see everyone to the exits.

Claire heard his voice as though from a distance. How on earth had a wild animal found its way into the heart of town? When the crowd began moving, she followed Lisa and John quietly, thoughts still racing.

Outside, the parking lot was bustling. Police had roped off the place, paramedics were gathered around William Tanner's body, and even the animal control unit had been called. The people around her were a talkative bunch, all loud voices and curiosity, a beehive that buzzed nonstop. It was almost enough to give her a headache. Claire watched the proceedings, absently noting how the police cruiser lights winked against the wall nearby. She blinked. Open space, buildings, human figure, night.

"Hello, Claire!"

Lisa's hand was waving in front of her face. She blinked again to refocus.

"We're leaving," Lisa said. "Coming?"

"Yeah." Claire answered without thinking, glancing back at the cars before forcing her legs into motion.

The drive home wasn't a peaceful one. Her thoughts kept circling back to the school parking lot. Another animal attack. Four people in the span of one week. It nudged at some memory, but it remained on the fringes of her consciousness, elusive. Something someone had told her long ago . . . Who? These weren't the first animal attacks in Mystic Falls — there had been others in years gone by. Where had she heard that? An image of her kitchen flashed in her mind's eye, her mother and sister on either side of her at the table. Her mother. Her fascination with everything that had to do with her hometown. Of course. Just like Carol Lockwood had said, Marcia Fuller was a dedicated historian.

Too wound up to even consider leaving it until morning, Claire let herself in the house, locked the door and sprinted up the stairs.

The attic was a rectangular room, about twelve feet wide by twenty feet long, its entryway flanked by a dresser and a round wooden table with three matching chairs. By the window opposite the entrance, an armchair soaked up sun, the dark red upholstery fading. Claire crossed to the large bookcase pushed against one wall and scanned the shelves. Thick leather-bound tomes, volumes of children's stories, photo albums, an old camera, a collection of colorful rocks. Nothing there. She turned her attention to the sealed cardboard boxes beside the bookcase and sat on her heels.

Rifling through the files and pages covered in her mother's neat script, she found a piece of paper that, unlike the others, featured only a few lines of notes.

1953 – Héloïse & Philip Banner find dead woman in woods. Animal attack.

After this Héloïse keeps track of attacks on people in Mystic Falls.

1962 – 3 men & 2 women found dead over course of month near old cemetery & by road leading out of town. Animal attack.

1974 – 2 men & 1 woman dead while camping in woods. Animal attack.

Claire paused. She had forgotten it had been her grandparents who found that woman back then. Only now, after reading these notes, did she recall her mother mentioning the fact, in that excited manner that made her face light up. Neither Claire nor Diane, still teenagers at the time, had found the mention disturbing, used to their mother's sharing tidbits she had discovered in her long research on the lesser-known history of Mystic Falls. And their grandmother . . . Claire could picture her sitting in an armchair, recounting the incident in detail to her daughter-in-law, as calm and collected as ever. Truly, Claire had grown to believe that nothing could ever faze Héloïse Duval.

A small smile tugged at one corner of her lips, and she bent over the old page again to read the last scribble.

1864 – Thomas & Honoria Fell dead outside Johnathan Gilbert's mansion. Animal attack. Founders' archives in MF library.

A frown settled on the bridge of her nose. So many animal attacks in a small town where supposedly no bad things ever happened. Claire began going through her mother's papers again, spreading them out in a semicircle in front of her. There. She picked out five newspaper clippings, dated February 1962 and June 1974. The articles weren't very specific, stating that the victims had been bitten and died of blood loss. In none of the cases had the animals responsible been seen or caught. After those revelations, the reporters had gone on to write about the life of the deceased and about those they left behind.

Lowering the last slip of paper to the floor, Claire reached for the page where her mother had written down the dates. All that was left now was to have a look in the Founders' archives.

•

Once school was over on Monday, she headed to the town library. The quiet in the building was a welcome contrast to the hours spent surrounded by talk. Offering the librarian a quick hello, Claire climbed the stairs to the upper floor. She found the aisle she was looking for easily and felt oddly pleased with herself for not having needed Mrs. Kemp's assistance, even after some time since her last visit.

Not ten minutes later, she pinpointed the passage her mother had referenced in her notes.

November 9, 1864
Reverend Thomas Keeping Fell and his wife, Honoria, were attacked and killed by a mountain lion outside Johnathan Gilbert's mansion. The wild animal is believed to have ventured away from its natural habitat in search of food. Johnathan Gilbert, who witnessed the animal's viciousness, was most fortunate to have escaped and succeeded in driving it away. It was he who recounted this grisly tale.

Claire stopped reading. A quiet town indeed! Strange that the only occurrences — war excluded — that had shaken the community had been these animal attacks. She tapped her finger against the page and closed the book, returning it to its place.

•

William Tanner's funeral service was held on Tuesday afternoon. It was a quiet affair. Claire noted that, apart from his sister who had come from Illinois, the history teacher had no other family present.

His death and the boldness of the latest animal attack had shaken the community in truth. There was rumor that the Founders' Party which was to be held at the end of next week would be canceled. Before that day came, however, the gloom hovering over the town was lifted somewhat. A mountain lion had attacked a hunter and was caught. The mystery was solved.

It all seemed rather straightforward. Still, Claire couldn't be rid of the feeling that something crucial was missing. After what she'd found in the attic and the passage concerning Thomas and Honoria Fell, this simplicity didn't quite add up.

She revisited the notion as she hunted through her wardrobe, discarding blacks and whites and earth tones. Her hands rested on a navy-blue dress. Paired with the nude low-heeled sandals, it would do nicely. She pushed the thought of successive attacks and mountain lions aside and focused on getting ready.

A large crowd had already assembled when she arrived at the Lockwood mansion. The mayor's wife was standing near the door in the foyer, greeting her guests with bright smiles.

"Claire, you do look lovely." She took a step back to let her pass.

Claire gave her a small grin. "Thank you."

She glanced around and set off in search of Jenna. Her friend was close to the bar outside, watching people milling about. Eyebrows pushed slightly together and arms crossed, she was the personification of a loaded spring.

"Looking out for Logan?"

Jenna let her arms fall to her sides. "I haven't seen him yet, thank God."

"Half the town's here, maybe you'll get lucky," Claire said, scanning the area.

"That's what I'm counting on."

Claire peered at her. "Let's go for a walk." She led the way toward the pond, her pace deliberately slow.

Their stroll along the water's edge didn't do much to improve Jenna's mood. She declined the suggestion to see the heritage display. Claire left her nursing a glass of wine and climbed the staircase to the upper floor alone.

Of all artifacts present, it was the framed piece of paper on the wall that caught her eye. The guest registry of the first Founders' Party. She felt her lips twitch upward. A document so old, carrying living memories of dip pens and black ink and the past . . . Claire began reading silently. She paused at one name among the many familiar ones. Stefan Salvatore. Like the new wide receiver on the school's football team. She wondered if contemporary Stefan had been consciously named after this ancestor from the 1800s. And below that name was another. Damon Salvatore. A son or a brother, perhaps. Claire couldn't help the curious thought whether present-day Stefan had a brother with that long-ago relative's name. She blinked and stepped away, heading to the small model of Fell's church that dominated a table by the door.

When she returned downstairs, Logan crossed her path.

"Claire. You look stunning." His gaze swept her body from the above-knee hem of her dress to the V-shaped neckline.

"Thank you." She didn't smile. After Jenna had left town, Claire had come across Logan Fell only a handful of times. He was an ass, but it wasn't in her nature to forgo all semblance of civility. "If you will excuse me."

She made her way to the bar and studied the bottles on display. "Miraval rosé, please." The man behind the counter filled a glass. Wine in hand, Claire went outside.

Jenna was sitting at a table, looking into the distance. "I saw Logan," she said as soon as Claire sat down. "He wanted to have lunch."

Claire half-snorted. "Cocky. You told him to shove it?"

"I did."

Claire nodded at her improving mood.

Before the night was done, though, Jenna had accepted Logan's invitation to lunch.

Claire stared at her. "Why?"

"He seemed sincere," Jenna said, reminding her of the exchange at the bar she had missed when she had gone off to talk to some of her parents' acquaintances. "And anyway," she hurried on, "I can't stay mad at him forever."

Claire sighed. "True," she conceded at last.

"It's only lunch."

"Uh-huh." Claire's response was drawn out.

Jenna didn't meet her eyes. She was silent for a few moments. "I feel exhausted. I'm going home." She pushed her chair back.

Truth be told, her friend was beginning to look a little pale, Claire thought. "I'll stay a bit longer." She finished her wine after Jenna left, watching the couples who had taken to the dance floor.

Someone came to stand beside her. It was Martin.

"May I have this dance, Ms. Duval?"

"Hi." Claire smiled at her colleague. "You may." She gave him her hand and let him lead her to the floor. "No Amanda tonight?"

A strand of light brown hair fell into Martin's eyes as his head drooped. "We're hitting pause." He didn't elaborate.

Claire nodded and left it at that. Martin spun her around, and they went on dancing in silence. As he twirled her a second time, a pair of blue eyes met her own from afar. The moment was brief, and the impression was fleeting, and when she turned to look, there was no-one watching them. She shifted her attention back to Martin. He gave her a slight bow as the music faded and escorted her from the dance floor. Claire gave her head a mental shake, driving out the notion of phantom perceptions.

Chapter 3 soundtrack
• The Fire, Imogen Heap — Claire's dream revisits her in class
• Love Story, Taylor Swift — movie night with Jenna
• I've Seen the Signs, Dana Glover — Claire recalls mentions of past animal attacks and finds newspaper clippings in her mother's research
• A Beautiful Lie, 30 Seconds to Mars — Claire arrives at the Lockwood manor
• Out of the Shadows, Sarah McLachlan — Claire stands in front of guest registry
• Tonight and the Rest of my Life, Nina Gordon — Claire and Martin dance