Part 5
Jane sat up in bed, sweat pouring down her forehead. Groaning, she switched on the beside lamp. 4:30. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep tonight. She sighed heavily. Fragments of unusual dreams had been plaguing her all night.
Mostly involving the blonde vampire she had seen at the library after Damon had left her. Those moonstone eyes and ice cold beauty was frightening, and disturbing. And yet another person mistaking her for Elena. What was she going to do about that? Get a T-shirt printed, wear a sign around her neck saying "I AM NOT ELENA"? That would probably make people avoid her even more, she thought with a faint smile.
She couldn't really be Katherine, could she? Back to wreak more havoc? Vickie returned from the grave? She was another one who had died under mysterious circumstances. There was more to the story in Elena's diary, if she wasn't certain of it before, Jane was certain of it now.
Who could tell her the rest? She wasn't stupid enough to go looking for Damon and asking him. She didn't want to find herself dead. Maybe Sarah could ell her more. She was the only one who had spoken to her for more than five minutes.
What the hell did *any* of this have to do with her? Was this house cursed to be filled with small girls with blonde hair and blue eyes living Elena Gilbert's history over and over? The thought made her shudder. Elena's friends and memories wouldn't live on here for all eternity...Or would they?
Damon was real...so Stefan must be too, and must be out and about somewhere. They would carry Elena's memory, Stefan had lived with what he'd done to Katherine for five hundred years plus...
Jane collapsed back against the pillows, switching out the light and glancing out at the bay window, almost expecting to see that crow hovering there again. Or ghostly figures. Or something that didn't belong there.
Yet all she saw was the silhouette of the tree outside, it's bare branches stretching up like grabbing fingers. A horror movie image of a hand reaching out a grave flashed in Jane's mind. It vaguely reminded her also, of a symbol she'd seen somewhere, she thought it came from a Norse myth, something about the Tree of Life. A life that wasn't hers still lived in this room, in this town.
So how the hell did she get rid of it and get her own back?
* * *
Allegra would have thought the better of him, really. Stefan had always liked to hide, yet here he was, in one of the most expensive hotels in the town. The middle of the day, and he was asleep. She sat on the bed beside him, a crimson nail gently stroking his cheek as he'd slept. Security was pretty pathetic, she shouldn't have been able to get into his room so easily.
Then again security was probably fine, it was just none of them were strong enough to resist her mind control. She'd had four hundred years to perfect it, after all.
He still looked as yummy as he had back then, things had changed with the times, of course. He seemed a little shorter than she could remember. Did people loose height over long periods of time? Allegra hadn't been aware of that.
Oh well. Small nor not, she didn't really mind as long as she was hers. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed her around or not yet, but it wouldn't hurt to leave just a little hint.
* * *
Dusk was embracing the daytime sky, chasing away the sun when Damon woke. A shiver of unusual cold ran down his spine. He was alone, he had chosen not to have anyone sharing his bed last night, but he felt oddly certain that someone had been in, could still be here, or had just left the room.
There was a distinct sense of *presence* hanging around that was extremely disturbing. A bolt of sharp pain shot through his thumb, and he turned, looking in amused amazement at the blood red rose sitting on his pillow. He'd stabbed his thumb on a thorn.
He watched the blood start to trickle before the wound healed almost instantly. He picked up the rose, looking at it. Blood red...was that supposed to mean something? How did that get here? Who the hell could have gotten all the way in here? He had taken the most expensive suite. Had these people not heard of *security*?
Who had put the rose there? The blood red colour was not just a coincidence, he was pretty certain of that. He needed some answers. He grimaced as he got out of help. He had a fair idea of here he could make a start in looking.
* * *
Jane sat up in bed, sweat pouring down her forehead. Groaning, she switched on the beside lamp. 4:30. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep tonight. She sighed heavily. Fragments of unusual dreams had been plaguing her all night.
Mostly involving the blonde vampire she had seen at the library after Damon had left her. Those moonstone eyes and ice cold beauty was frightening, and disturbing. And yet another person mistaking her for Elena. What was she going to do about that? Get a T-shirt printed, wear a sign around her neck saying "I AM NOT ELENA"? That would probably make people avoid her even more, she thought with a faint smile.
She couldn't really be Katherine, could she? Back to wreak more havoc? Vickie returned from the grave? She was another one who had died under mysterious circumstances. There was more to the story in Elena's diary, if she wasn't certain of it before, Jane was certain of it now.
Who could tell her the rest? She wasn't stupid enough to go looking for Damon and asking him. She didn't want to find herself dead. Maybe Sarah could ell her more. She was the only one who had spoken to her for more than five minutes.
What the hell did *any* of this have to do with her? Was this house cursed to be filled with small girls with blonde hair and blue eyes living Elena Gilbert's history over and over? The thought made her shudder. Elena's friends and memories wouldn't live on here for all eternity...Or would they?
Damon was real...so Stefan must be too, and must be out and about somewhere. They would carry Elena's memory, Stefan had lived with what he'd done to Katherine for five hundred years plus...
Jane collapsed back against the pillows, switching out the light and glancing out at the bay window, almost expecting to see that crow hovering there again. Or ghostly figures. Or something that didn't belong there.
Yet all she saw was the silhouette of the tree outside, it's bare branches stretching up like grabbing fingers. A horror movie image of a hand reaching out a grave flashed in Jane's mind. It vaguely reminded her also, of a symbol she'd seen somewhere, she thought it came from a Norse myth, something about the Tree of Life. A life that wasn't hers still lived in this room, in this town.
So how the hell did she get rid of it and get her own back?
* * *
Allegra would have thought the better of him, really. Stefan had always liked to hide, yet here he was, in one of the most expensive hotels in the town. The middle of the day, and he was asleep. She sat on the bed beside him, a crimson nail gently stroking his cheek as he'd slept. Security was pretty pathetic, she shouldn't have been able to get into his room so easily.
Then again security was probably fine, it was just none of them were strong enough to resist her mind control. She'd had four hundred years to perfect it, after all.
He still looked as yummy as he had back then, things had changed with the times, of course. He seemed a little shorter than she could remember. Did people loose height over long periods of time? Allegra hadn't been aware of that.
Oh well. Small nor not, she didn't really mind as long as she was hers. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed her around or not yet, but it wouldn't hurt to leave just a little hint.
* * *
Dusk was embracing the daytime sky, chasing away the sun when Damon woke. A shiver of unusual cold ran down his spine. He was alone, he had chosen not to have anyone sharing his bed last night, but he felt oddly certain that someone had been in, could still be here, or had just left the room.
There was a distinct sense of *presence* hanging around that was extremely disturbing. A bolt of sharp pain shot through his thumb, and he turned, looking in amused amazement at the blood red rose sitting on his pillow. He'd stabbed his thumb on a thorn.
He watched the blood start to trickle before the wound healed almost instantly. He picked up the rose, looking at it. Blood red...was that supposed to mean something? How did that get here? Who the hell could have gotten all the way in here? He had taken the most expensive suite. Had these people not heard of *security*?
Who had put the rose there? The blood red colour was not just a coincidence, he was pretty certain of that. He needed some answers. He grimaced as he got out of help. He had a fair idea of here he could make a start in looking.
* * *