Part 3
So she was all grown up now. It seemed more like thirteen years centuries than thirteen years had passed. For some reason, Damon had found himself drifting back to Fell's Church. He'd told himself he was just passing, just looking to see who, if anyone, was still around.
Not much about the town itself had changed. No one he particularly recognised was around. So what was the point in staying?
He'd come across a night club that hadn't been there the last time, the only new edition. Inside, was no different than any other club he had been in recently. With female attention practically throwing itself at him, Damon had decided he might as well resign himself to having a good time.
Then *she* had come in. At first he had thought it had been something in the blood of the swan-necked blonde he was feeding on at the time. She'd been high when he'd selected her, the buzz of whatever she was on was giving her blood a delightful lift.
He had thought he was seeing things. Shoving the girl away and moving closer she was still there. She wasn't a vision. She was *real*.
"Elena," he had breathed.
Elena, alone without his idiot brother. That had come as a surprise, and brought a smirk of satisfaction to him. On approaching her, disappointment had coursed through him. No, she wasn't Elena after all.
Then he got it. So this must be Margaret, Elena's baby sister, all grown up. The resemblance to Elena was uncanny. She even had the spunky attitude as well.
"It seems the smartest thing to do now would be to leave before you do something stupid."
That afternoon he had gone back to Elena's old house, watching, waiting for Margaret to come home. Unfortunately, someone else had come instead. He turned, glancing over at Veronique, unimpressed. "What makes you think I'd do something stupid?"
Veronique's laugh was low and rich, reminding him of melting chocolate. She looked stunning as always, that day wearing a snake print top and green leather trousers. Her black hair hung loose to her shoulders, hidden lights shimmering in the afternoon light.
"Hmm, let me see..." Her tone was mocking.
As it was a residential area, he was at least smart enough not to react to her. Plus, she had a good couple of hundred years on him. He had never been too sure just what her Powers were capable of. Her words simply slid off him, like water. "Ha, ha. I was just - "
"You didn't get the older sister so now you're going for the younger one? Well I've got news for you - she's *nothing* like your precious Elena. She's not even the slightest bit impressed with you. Or Stefan." Veronique's smile was almost vicious.
"So she knows."
"Pretty much. Interesting girl - she's looking for something other than vampires and werewolves to separate her from her sister."
"Really." That had come as a surprise. He didn't know what he had expected from Margaret. He had thought she'd be aspiring to be like Elena, to have the great mystical romance Elena had had. Apparently not. Which made Margaret all the more interesting. "Is there a reason why you're here?"
He didn't know why Veronique would have shown up in a nameless town like Fell's Church. She liked classy cities - Rome, London, Vienna, Milan, New York - why come to small town U.S.A.?
Veronique smiled faintly. "I enrolled in Robert. E. Lee High School."
Damon stared at her, then laughed. It was the last thing he had expected, it was so - corny. "Last time one of us did that it ended rather badly."
Veronique's arms folded. "Well I'm smarter than Stefan."
That fact was extremely questionable, though Damon decided not to say anything. "And what's the catch then?"
"Margaret Gilbert is mine." Her conversational tone had gone. She turned to face him directly, eyes almost glowing from within. She was several inches taller than him, even with the tense feeling of Power emanating from her, Damon wasn't intimidated in the slightest. If anything, he was just amused. "Yours?"
"Mine." There was a blast of wind and a white bird of some sort cawed before flapping over his head and vanishing.
Damon walked away from Margaret's house more interested in her than ever. So it came down to who she found more intriguing. Him or Veronique. What was the fun of a girl if she wasn't a challenge?
* * *
So she was all grown up now. It seemed more like thirteen years centuries than thirteen years had passed. For some reason, Damon had found himself drifting back to Fell's Church. He'd told himself he was just passing, just looking to see who, if anyone, was still around.
Not much about the town itself had changed. No one he particularly recognised was around. So what was the point in staying?
He'd come across a night club that hadn't been there the last time, the only new edition. Inside, was no different than any other club he had been in recently. With female attention practically throwing itself at him, Damon had decided he might as well resign himself to having a good time.
Then *she* had come in. At first he had thought it had been something in the blood of the swan-necked blonde he was feeding on at the time. She'd been high when he'd selected her, the buzz of whatever she was on was giving her blood a delightful lift.
He had thought he was seeing things. Shoving the girl away and moving closer she was still there. She wasn't a vision. She was *real*.
"Elena," he had breathed.
Elena, alone without his idiot brother. That had come as a surprise, and brought a smirk of satisfaction to him. On approaching her, disappointment had coursed through him. No, she wasn't Elena after all.
Then he got it. So this must be Margaret, Elena's baby sister, all grown up. The resemblance to Elena was uncanny. She even had the spunky attitude as well.
"It seems the smartest thing to do now would be to leave before you do something stupid."
That afternoon he had gone back to Elena's old house, watching, waiting for Margaret to come home. Unfortunately, someone else had come instead. He turned, glancing over at Veronique, unimpressed. "What makes you think I'd do something stupid?"
Veronique's laugh was low and rich, reminding him of melting chocolate. She looked stunning as always, that day wearing a snake print top and green leather trousers. Her black hair hung loose to her shoulders, hidden lights shimmering in the afternoon light.
"Hmm, let me see..." Her tone was mocking.
As it was a residential area, he was at least smart enough not to react to her. Plus, she had a good couple of hundred years on him. He had never been too sure just what her Powers were capable of. Her words simply slid off him, like water. "Ha, ha. I was just - "
"You didn't get the older sister so now you're going for the younger one? Well I've got news for you - she's *nothing* like your precious Elena. She's not even the slightest bit impressed with you. Or Stefan." Veronique's smile was almost vicious.
"So she knows."
"Pretty much. Interesting girl - she's looking for something other than vampires and werewolves to separate her from her sister."
"Really." That had come as a surprise. He didn't know what he had expected from Margaret. He had thought she'd be aspiring to be like Elena, to have the great mystical romance Elena had had. Apparently not. Which made Margaret all the more interesting. "Is there a reason why you're here?"
He didn't know why Veronique would have shown up in a nameless town like Fell's Church. She liked classy cities - Rome, London, Vienna, Milan, New York - why come to small town U.S.A.?
Veronique smiled faintly. "I enrolled in Robert. E. Lee High School."
Damon stared at her, then laughed. It was the last thing he had expected, it was so - corny. "Last time one of us did that it ended rather badly."
Veronique's arms folded. "Well I'm smarter than Stefan."
That fact was extremely questionable, though Damon decided not to say anything. "And what's the catch then?"
"Margaret Gilbert is mine." Her conversational tone had gone. She turned to face him directly, eyes almost glowing from within. She was several inches taller than him, even with the tense feeling of Power emanating from her, Damon wasn't intimidated in the slightest. If anything, he was just amused. "Yours?"
"Mine." There was a blast of wind and a white bird of some sort cawed before flapping over his head and vanishing.
Damon walked away from Margaret's house more interested in her than ever. So it came down to who she found more intriguing. Him or Veronique. What was the fun of a girl if she wasn't a challenge?
* * *