Author's notes: Sorry guys, it took me ages to update :P I was supposed to do it a few days ago but got a little stuck with my job and all :P
So well, here it is :) Hope you'll like it :)
Chapter 6
"Wait, what?" Damon asked, clearly struck.
"What part of It points at my apartment wasn't clear enough, exactly?" Alaric whispered back.
With his eyes darting between the compass and the first-floor windows of the two-storey four-apartment building, one of a few on the block, so fast that it made him feel almost dizzy, he reached blindly into the backseat for his rifle loaded with vervain darts trying to hold his breath as best he could, way too aware of the vampire super-senses of his guest that were sharp enough even to hear him swallow if he wanted to, and that was exactly what he longed to avoid.
Carefully, he laid the rifle on his lap and groped for the door handle behind his back, his gaze practically glued to the house now and everything about him was tense and focused. The arrow didn't move an inch otherwise he's hear it. Alaric's throat suddenly went dry.
Finally, he managed to grab the handle and pulled it as slowly as possible. It clicked almost soundlessly and he prayed the door wouldn't creak. Chilly air crept into the car and through his close making Ric shiver against his will, and he wondered involuntarily if it was just it or was it the danger crawling in on him that made his blood run cold.
Slowly, holding his breath for the most part and still pressing his mobile to his ear, he slipped out. Paused to reach for the compass and then slid down the side of the car watching the house intensely through the front passenger-door's window. The rifle stayed lying on the driver's seat – close enough for him to reach for it any moment – as Ric tried to gather his thoughts together. The whole – grab the rifle, open the door, leave the car – thing took only 20 seconds or so, but it seemed to last forever.
And apparently, it didn't go past Damon.
"What are you doing there?" The vampire inquired suspiciously.
"What do you think I am doing, Damon?" Alaric breathed out going all rigid from tension.
"Something stupid." The door slammed on Damon's end of the line indicating that he left the bar, and then Ric heard the car horn – and it all sounded oddly surreal in the world that seemed to shrink in size and only contained Ric himself, his car, twenty feet of the driveway and the house he simply couldn't look away from even if he really wanted to. "Don't move," Damon warned him, his voice somehow reaching Ric's ears. "I have no wish to scrape your blood off of the pavement if you get yourself killed."
"Nice, Damon."
"I'll be right there." And then he disconnected.
"Yeah, and what if…" Ric started but dead silence cut him off and he stuffed the phone into the pocket of his coat cursing under his breath. What if this thing got away?
But he barely had time to contemplate the consequences of that because a blur of a movement he saw out of the corner of his eye caught his attention making him spin around nearly losing his balance as his heart stilled and his hand went instinctively for his rifle. And then stopped half way through when he realized that it was Damon who Ric found sitting in a crouch next to him, his gaze practically glued to the dark form of the building.
"Jumpy?" Damon snickered in barely audible voice as his lips curled into a crooked smirk.
"Funny," Ric grimaced and then they both fell silent just watching the house.
"I don't hear anything," Damon said at last. "Are you sure-"
"No, it was a twisted joke," Alaric regarded him darkly. "Stop asking me that."
He opened his palm where the compass lay clutched tight and they both stared at it, but as soon as it happened, the arrow started to tremble and then turned to the right pointing at Damon.
"Yeah, of course," Ric muttered.
"Don't call it a side-effect," Damon warned him. "Stay here." And he made an attempt to get up to his feet.
Ric grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket. "What the hell are you doing now?"
"You want to sit here all night?" Damon hissed. "There's no one there, otherwise I'd hear them."
"Fine, I'm going with you then."
Alaric got up too not sure if he was disappointed or relieved by the news. The impending danger looming over them was frightening and more than unnerving but then again, wouldn't it be better to get it over with and leave it all behind and not have a catastrophe of the week at least once? But yeah, it sounded too good to be true even in his mind, and yet – hell if he was going to give up hoping for it.
Damon let out a frustrated huff. "Why don't you cover my back instead, huh? Just in case, you know."
"What case?" Ric hissed but Damon was already gone, as quickly and smoothly as he appeared. Damn it!
He hesitated for a brief moment but then put the compass into the pocket, grabbed the rifle and followed the vampire into the darkness bending practically to the ground to stay as unnoticeable as possible. The frozen grass crunched beneath his feel when he crossed the lawn and even to him it sounded so loud in complete silence that Ric couldn't help but wince. Had someone needed to detect them, they'd have no problem with doing so.
Cautiously he approached the house, and was this close to having a heart attack when Damon suddenly appeared right before him from around the corner looking annoyed to say the least, or completely pissed off – if the Give me someone to kill expression was any indication.
"There's no one in there," he muttered though his teeth, practically fuming.
"You sure?" Ric looked around with obvious uncertainty trying to listen as intently as he could but of course hearing nothing but his own heavy breath and Damon's almost inaudible curses.
"Yes," Damon all but snapped. "Whoever was there is definitely gone by now."
"Damn it," Alaric breathed out, lowered his rifle registering that his arm hurt from holding it so tight and raked his fingers through his hair.
"I think I told you to stay behind," Damon scowled at him getting even more frustrated by the second.
"You're not serious," Ric snorted and shook his head as if the very implication of him taking Damon's orders was completely ridiculous, which, as a matter of fact, it was.
"You could have had your head ripped off as easy as that," Damon snapped his fingers before Alaric's face.
"Yes, Mom, thanks," Ric scoffed.
"Just saying," Damon shrugged. "Not that it is any of my business anyway. What I want to know is how that vampire got inside of your apartment, Ric? Any ideas?"
"He didn't." He regarded Damon speculatively. "I am very selective about who I invite in, so this person must have been lurking around." He paused then, and finished, "Which still can't be a coincidence."
"You mean because of what happened to Jenna?" Damon frowned.
"I already don't know what to think," Ric hoped his didn't sound too lost, which honestly, he wasn't that far from. He looked down the driveway and to the curb where his car was parked and then up at the windows again. The silence was almost pressing and even his own heavy breathing and hammering heartbeat seemed to be oddly loud, especially with someone who could hear it as clearly as he did sticking around.
"Personally, I'd check your place for starters." Damon suggested. "Just to be sure."
Feeling a little dumb because of not thinking about it in the first place, Ric nodded. "Right."
He put the rifle into the left hand and reached into the pocket for the keys. Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside the hallway cautiously pausing before the door to his apartment, scanning the hall and the dark shadows that could have been a perfect hiding place. Everything was silent and still, and when the floor board creaked beneath his feet, it sounded like a peal of thunder – as loud and unexpected.
He turned the key and opened the door then, stepped inside, reached for the switch and turned on the lights. Not quite on alert but still ready to act, he listened as best he could, until a cough stopped him short.
"Ric, I think you forgot something."
Alaric turned around and looked out the door at Damon who was hovering on the doorstep of the apartment building, his expression a mixture of amusement and irritation. Well, irritation was winning though.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he shook his head. "I am not going to invite you in."
Damon's smirk fell, "If I wanted to kill you, I'd do it a long time ago, and believe me, you wouldn't even notice it."
"You tried," Ric reminded him.
"But it didn't work."
"And how is that a thing that could change my mind?"
"Fine," Damon lifted his hands into the air and even took a small step back. "But if one day something creeps inside of your bachelor pad and tries to eat you alive, I'll stay here and watch it, and oh, it will be a hell of a show!"
Ric narrowed his eyes at the vampire, considering. Well, Damon had a point and he had to admit it. Not that he trusted him to the fullest – not even close, truth be told – but at the moment it didn't make much difference. If Damon actually decided to kill him, he'd find a way to do it fast and smooth, and he was probably right about him not even noticing it. Except that he was a vampire, which sort of made deadly dangerous his middle name, but right now it hardly was a time for their issues.
In the end he rolled his eyes, frustrated with himself more than with Damon.
"All right, come in, and please don't mess around," and held the door open for him.
Damon beamed at him "I thought you'd never offer." He walked past Ric and into the living room. "Nice. Wow, is that what you use for school?" Picked up a book from the table that had Applied Psychology written on the cover. "Or is it a hobby?" He called after Ric who disappeared in the depths of his apartment.
Alaric returned to the living room after checking the rest of the rooms and dropped the rifle onto the couch, took the book from Damon and put it back onto the table. "It's Jenna's." And cut off whatever comment might have come with a heavy glare.
"Do you still think that this whole thing is not personal?" Damon inquired in a mock patient voice.
"Isobel is gone, Damon," he attempted to say her name in a flat even voice and failed completely cringing inwardly at how his chest tightened as the memories of the woman he loved more than anything mixed with the images of the cold and detached creature she'd become. "I don't see how else it could be personal."
"No, she's not," Damon announced.
"How do you know?" Ric's heart gave a leap despite his will and expectations and his voice came out oddly hoarse although he tried to ignore it.
"Because I do," the vampire heaved an exasperated sigh as if explaining what was so obvious was getting a tad annoying. "Hadn't you noticed that dear Uncle John Gilbert, the beloved son of Mystic Falls and BFF of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, is still hanging around? Not literary unfortunately."
"So?"
"So? Oh, please, Ric," Damon rolled his eyes. "He and Isobel shared a colorful past and then they showed up here right one after another, clearly for the same reason as they both claim to be in touch with Katherine." And it was Damon's turn to grimace at the name. "He wouldn't just drop by to have a family visit and save the town since it didn't bother him much before. So, my point is, one plus one equals-" And he let his eyebrows finish the idea.
"Yeah, except that I don't quite see how killing a dozen of spoke would ruin my life."
"First, don't confuse fun with dinner," Damon pointed out. "Your oh so perfect human logic does not always work with us, see. Stalking and hunting is almost as much fan as killing."
"Wait… Are you saying that someone is stalking Jenna?" The whole idea was so horrible that all but choked on his words.
"Um, no. I don't, actually. I don't want to disappoint you but that would be, one, too much drama, and two – too much honor. I mean I like you guys, bout gosh, you're boring."
"Thank you, Damon! Closer to the point?"
Damon hemmed. "If – and it is a huge if – it is not Isobel with some twisted idea of hers, then it is either a very unbelievably fantastic one-in-a-million-chance coincidence. Or," he made a long meaning pause here, "it was just a check."
Huh? "A – what?"
"Well, like you said, Jenna couldn't have been compelled. And being unconscious is not even close to safety as compulsion. Maybe, I don't know, she started to come to her senses or stirred when the vampire was feeding on her. And stop trying to burn me with your glare," he added when Ric's gaze hardened. "You already made it clear that you hate the idea. And I'm just saying what we both know." And continued. "This… someone saw you and followed you here to make sure your girlfriend didn't remember anything."
"But…" if Damon meant it to sound consoling then it obviously was the worst reassurance ever. "Doesn't it mean that she's… in danger?" Oh God, yeah, that was exactly the thought he needed to be planted in his head.
Damon's forehead creased in confusion. "How?"
"You just said that if she saw anything-"
"But she didn't, right?"
Alaric hesitated, "No, she didn't."
"What's the big deal then? Get over it!"
"Whatever, Damon. That thing is still running there, whatever the reason is, and it means that, like, everyone in town is in danger, and we still don't have the slightest idea of who it could possibly be. And neither of what we're talking about here helps, you know. All those people – they are still dead."
Damon opened his mouth to say something in response but his phone beeped shortly interrupting him and he reached for it hurriedly, frowning and making Ric strain against his will. No good news could come at four in the morning and something told him that this time wouldn't be an exception.
"What is it?" Alaric asked quietly.
Damon cringed. "Text message from Liz. Damn it!" Angrily, he clutched the phone so tight in his hand that it was a miracle that it didn't break. "They found another body in the alley behind the mall."
"A vampire?"
"What do you think?" Damon's scoff was bitter and snarky, and it was a poor cover for his anger. "Apparently, there are only two ways to die in this town – from a natural cause or being killed by a vampire. Which, of course, makes me feel so safe." He pushed some buttons and then lifted the phone up to his ear. "Liz? It's Damon, I've got a message… No, no, don't worry, I wasn't sleeping." He paused to listen to the reply. "Sure, I'll be right there."
Jenna made her way downstairs humming something under her breath and paused before the mirror in the hall to adjust her scarf, and then turned around, puzzled, when she caught a reflection of Elena rummaging through the box that stood on the dining table. Jenna spotted another one on the floor at Elena's feet, and one more – by the glass door that led to the back yard.
Curious, she slung her bag over the staircase pole and went to the dining room. "Elena, what are you doing?"
"Oh, hey," Elena gave her a quick look. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I was going to pick your dad's car – aka the only thing standing between us and public transport – from the shop. They wanted to change something in it, just to be safe," She explained. "So, what's with the boxes?"
"The infamous Gilbert legacy." They exchanged an understanding look. "Jeremy told me that Uncle John mentioned at some point that Jonathan Gilbert left several journals and I was wondering if I could have a look at them."
"Any luck?" Jenna poked her nose into the box.
"Nope, not yet." Elena looked thoughtfully at the boxes on the floor. "The stuff from 1800s is mixed here with the things that appeared later, it's a total mess but… So far I only found some notes, of old photographs, a bunch letters but there's nothing in there about…" she trailed off.
"The vampires," Jenna finished under her breath. "Maybe the whole conspiracy thing was too serious to write about them?"
"I wish they weren't that secretive." Elena sighed, "Is that all that was left from dad concerning family history?" She asked.
"All that I'm aware of, I'm afraid." Jenna replied. "I'd tell you to ask your Uncle but hey, why would I be so cruel?" She chewed on her lower lip for a moment then. "Unless…"
"Unless?" Elena echoed shooting her brows up.
"There are some boxes up in the attic, mostly your mom's. You know, the things that she didn't know what to do with but didn't want to throw away either." She smiled on a small shrug. "I'm not sure because I never got to go though them properly but maybe some of your dad's stuff is somewhere there, too. We can go and check it if you want."
"I thought you wanted to go and pick up the car," Elena reminded her.
"Well, not that it will go anywhere. And besides, I am kind of curious, too."
Upstairs, Jenna was the one to turn the knob and push the small door open making the hinges that hadn't been oiled for a long while let out a long squeal. She stepped inside the attic followed closely by Elena and took in the stacks of boxes, old furniture and Elena or Jeremy's rocking horse in the corner. Dust was dancing in the rays of the late afternoon sun streaming through small windows. The air was stuffy and it smelled like dust and wood and old things – the trademark scent that probably every attic had.
"Wow," Elena swept the room with her glance registering the details here and there. "I hadn't been here for quite a while." She picked up an old book lying on op on the nightstand with one missing leg and then put it right back.
"I planned to get everything sorted out here, you know, after… everything," Jenna said as she made her way across the attic, hear sneakers totally soundless on the hardwood floor covered with a thin later of dust. "Guess it's right about time to get started. Why do you need those journals anyway?" She looked at Elena over her shoulder.
"Honestly?"
"Spill it."
"I have an essay on Shakespeare's… something to finish by Tuesday, or I am dead. And what I am doing now is called procrastination." She grimaced displaying how not happy she was wish herself. "Bun in the light of recent events I can't care less about Shakespeare. And besides, it makes sense to know as much as possible, not to mention that digging through the old stuff and – I must say it – awful handwriting is exactly my idea of ruining Saturday."
Jenna let out a short laugh. "That's what I thought." She took off her jacket and hung it onto the door knob, and then rolled up the sleeves of her shirt up to the elbows to avoid massive catastrophe of dealing with the dust bunnies. "Let's start digging then."
"So, you and Mr. Saltzman…" Elena began nonchalantly in a couple of minutes.
"Don't start," Jenna shook her head chuckling. "Hey, look what I found."
"The journals?" Elena got up to her feet and looked at Jenna expectedly over the pile of old books.
"Nope, your baby dress." Jenna waved a piece of pink and lace cuteness in the air. "Isn't it adorable?"
"Don't change the subject," Elena pointed a finger at her reproachfully. "I've been almost dying to ask you for almost two days. Don't try to wiggle out of it now."
Jenna folded the dress carefully and put it back into the box taking her time. That was something she was almost as clueless about as Elena.
"It's… complicated," she said at last.
"He's a good guy," Elena pointed out shrugging as if it wasn't obvious to Jenna, or everyone else speaking of that.
"Yeah, and that's the part of complicated as well." Jenna went down to her knees and swept the dust off of yet another box before opening it. "Me and good guys… it doesn't really work." Her voice was a little uncertain here but she hoped she managed to joke it off.
"And he seems to really care about you, too."
"Thanks for making it easier," she snorted and then couldn't help but smile at the thought of Ric. She was getting pathetic. "He has a huge baggage. And…I am not sure he knows what he wants, or where he stands, or where this all can lead, and there are so many issues. And it is sort of like walking on thin ice." Elena gave her a skeptical look poking from behind the dresser that stood between them. "So, now I am trying to live one day at a time and don't rush anything."
"That bad, huh?"
"Oh yeah. The problem is, I don't quite see myself in the picture just yet, but… I don't want to screw it up so much. And now that we're having a girl talk, how are things going between you and Stefan?"
Elena closed the box she was checking, got to her feet and walked up to an old bookshelf stacked with all sorts of stuff from books, to piles of old magazines tied with the rope, to a couple of obviously not functioning reading lamps, to smaller boxes.
"Good," she looked down at Jenna. "I mean really good, and it feels… great. If a little weird."
"And… Damon?"
"Speaking of complicated and baggage," Elena chuckled. Absently, she picked a random book from the shelf that turned out to be some university medicine manual, probably one of her dad's books that he stopped using for one reason or another. She put it back and let her gaze travel along the titles of the rest of the row.
Jenna snickered behind her back, "Is that what Damon is? Stefan's baggage? Really?"
"Sometimes," Elena admitted and then turned around. "I don't mean it that way, you know. He's a good guy," she said seriously, "And it is true, but he spends so much time and puts so much effort into being a total jackass that the feeling and caring and compassionate part of him blurs, and this is usually when the problems begin."
One of Jenna's brows quirked up. "Well, I'm glad you guys know how to entertain yourselves."
"It's all about fun," Elena drawled. "Hey, look what I found. Is that you and mom?"
She came up to Jenna with an old faded photograph with an awkwardly-looking teen with two long braids holding a doll-like little girl with a huge pink bow in light hair in her hands and handed it to her aunt. Jenna smiled softly, totally in spite of herself at the sight of the image, and a warm feeling filled her stomach and spread all over her body. The picture was taken in the back yard of the house where they lived until she turned ten or twelve, and she didn't remember the moment, of course. But then again, she was too young to care, perhaps.
"Wow, I hadn't seen this one in years, thought it was long lost."
"It got stuck between the books," Elena waved indefinitely towards the shelf, then looked over Jenna's shoulder at the photo once again taking in her resemblance with Miranda Gilbert that she used to take for granted until she found out that it was just a coincidence, and for some reason it started to matter even more. "You were a cute chubby kid."
"Thanks, that's exactly a compliment any woman would die for."
"Can I take it?"
"Only if you promise that no one else is going to see it." She returned the photograph to Elena. "And I guess it's your turn to see what I found."
"What is it?"
Jenna lowered herself on the floor and crossed her legs Indian style. Reached out to open yet another dusty box and then looked up at Elena.
"Check this one out. These look old enough to be someone's journals."
And they booth peered inside where several leather-bound books lay among neatly folded sheets of yellowish paper, some scrolls and what looked like ink-pot and other XIX century pieces of stationery.
Elena sat down on the floor beside her and they both reached into the box simultaneously.
Jenna let her fingers travel along the leather cover of a small book feeling its dry and somewhat rough texture. It felt warm, probably because the temperature in the attic was nearing that of the sauna. It looked old, too. Had it been made in the last 50 years, it would probably look different, she decided. It would be a bit more finely done and the stitches on the spine holding the pages together would also be less crude but for something created in 1860s it looked pretty elegant, delicate even, especially the family crest etched on the front cover.
She opened it slowly, careful not to damage it by accident. On the first page in the bottom right corner were the words that said: Jonathan Gilbert, 1862.
Apparently, Elena saw something similar in the journal she was holding because she lifted her head, and Jenna let her lips form into a smile: "Bingo!"
"It's amazing," Elena shook her head in bewilderment. "How many of them are here? Six? Seven?"
"Nine, with this one." Jenna put the journal she examined on top of the others. "Enough to keep us up at night for a couple of months, assuming that Jonathan Gilbert's imagination was legendary. I wonder how often he used it for writing all of this."
"Why do you think dad kept them here and not with the other stuff downstairs?"
"I don't know, Elena. Maybe he just forgot about this box. Or on contrary wanted to move all of them up here at some point, but then never got to do it."
"Yeah, I guess so." Elena swept the contents of the box with her glance. "But this… this is a real treasure trove."
"I can imagine that. But don't let it lead too far into the land of fairy tales," Jenna warned her with a laugh. "What is it?" She asked when she saw Elena looking a something behind her back and barely paying any attention.
"Have you seen it?" Elena put the journal she was studying back into the box too and then got up and walked between the stacks and piles of stuff to the window that was facing the street, its glass slightly stained after the rain.
"What?" Jenna rose up and followed her, curious.
She looked outside over Elena's shoulder but the street was empty, only the tree branches swayed in light afternoon breeze.
"A crow," Elena said making Jenna freeze in her spot. "It was sitting right here," she pointed at the nearest branch that was practically touching the window, "and looking at us like—like it knew what we were doing. It was a little creepy." She shook her head, clearly embarrassed and absolutely oblivious to her aunt's state. "Which sounds nuts, so… never mind."
She went away then but Jenna hesitated by the window for another moment against her will and took her time to see as much of the street as she possibly could to make sure the crow wasn't there. Which probably was even crazier than Elena's assumption that it watched them. God knew why it bothered her so much. Mystic Falls never was short of crows as far as she remembered but somehow Elena spotting one now wasn't exactly reassuring.
"What do you think?" Elena asked her from behind.
Jenna turned around realizing that she totally missed the beginning of the conversation. "Sorry?"
"I asked if you mind me checking mom's stuff here," Elena repeated. "You okay?" She asked watching Jenna closely.
"Sure," Jenna called back lightly and suppressed a wish to look out the window again, just to make sure, "Want to help my clean out this mess? You're very welcome. And I really should go and pick the car now." She took a look at her watch as she made her way to the door. Stopped then with her hand on the door knob. "Oh, and, Elena-"
"Mm?" Elena lifter her eyes to her aunt's face.
"I'll be late for dinner perhaps. Your Uncle is totally against selling your dad's office but we agreed on at least renting it to someone because it stands empty for months already. There's no need in it." She hoped her frustration wasn't obvious. Okay, John had a point, or at least she accepted his right to express his opinion on the matter. She knew he could come here and do what he thought was an appropriate thing to do when it came to the family property but then again, he wasn't here all these months only limiting his involvement with Jeremy and Elena to random phone calls every now and then, and it was more than irritating to know that even assuming him staying away from the family in general she still was dependent on his decisions, especially when she didn't agree with them. "Anyway, I had a call this morning from someone who was interested, so I am going to pick up the car first and then go right there to show it."
"Okay," Elena nodded.
Jenna opened the door and shivered a little when a rather cool air washed over her body. She stepped outside and then poked her head back in for a moment. "Don't let yourself get buried in the dust, okay?"
Elena's gaze remained on the contents of the box as she kept rummaging through its contents. "Uh-huh," she called back distractedly. "Sure."
The phone call caught Jenna when she was driving from the car shop to her brother-in-law's office. Keeping her eyes on the road she reached for the phone and pressed the answer button almost sure that it was a woman interested in Grayson's office calling since Jenna was running a little late because of some paperwork and explanations of a mechanic. It wasn't her though.
"Hey," she heard and the voice made her stomach flutter bringing the high-school-girl-after-prom feeling back again.
"Ric," she smiled. "Hi."
There were some muffled voices on his end of the line followed by his, "Um, look, I thought I'd stop by later today but it looks like I am getting a little stuck up here," and he did sound regretful.
"Oh, okay," she hoped she didn't let the disappointment be too obvious. "I'm getting a little held up anyway. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just some… stuff. Founder's Day and all. At some point it will be over, right?" There was some helpless desperation in his voice that made her smile.
"Well, you can hope," she scoffed. "They won't let you go off the hook easily though."
"Now, that's inspiring."
Someone shouted something at someone else interrupting them both for a moment, and the she heart the door close as he probably left the room, and the noise was left behind. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.
"Okay, how about this?" Ric started. "Dinner, tomorrow night, at my place. Just you and me. I'm a terrible cook but pizza is always an option."
Jenna couldn't help but laugh at this. "Deal."
"I'll call you later, okay?"
"I'll be home in about an hour," she turned to the right and slowed down, waited for traffic light to change and then crossed the road and parked.
"Busy day?"
"A little," she admitted. "Got to meet someone now. Ric?"
"Mm?"
She hesitated debating saying something awkward and stupid, like I miss you, or I wish we didn't have to wait till tomorrow, or something else similarly ridiculous. Instead, she offered brightly, "The movie is on me."
Jenna pulled up right in front of the entrance to Grayson's office and killed the engine. The dusk started to creep in but the streetlamps were already on which let her look up and down the street and see that no one was waiting for her. She checked the time and sighed with relief. Only five minutes late, so chances were, the person she was supposed to meet was getting a little late as well, which of could was good for her.
She hopped out of the car and crossed the pavement. Took her time to search for the keys in her bag and then pushed the door open and stepped in groping around the wall for the switch to bring several lamps to life. The office was empty for the most part, except for a few pieces of furniture Jenna honestly didn't know what to do with, everything that reflected personality of Grayson Gilbert was long gone and for some reason it made the place look oddly unfamiliar and bleak.
Jenna pushed back the memories of how it used to look only a few months ago. It smelled like dust and hardwood, probably because of the redwood panels on the walls and tall counter, its polished surface, even covered with a thin layer of dust, glinting in the light. Her gaze traveled along the rails of the winding stairs that led to the second floor area – where Grayson's personal office was, and she fought to see him in her mind sitting there at his desk working in the light of the reading lamp. The image was blurred and unfocused, especially now that she knew what the office looked like at the moment – empty, its huge hardwood desk removed and the blinds drawn down and shut.
It was a good place, huge and convenient for almost any kind of business, its location practically in the center of the town making it a tasty morsel. And still… some part of her felt sad as if selling Grayson's office – or even renting it to someone else – was yet another step in the direction of moving on, and she just wasn't ready yet. Not really. Holding on to the past, to the memories she had – it felt safer and more comfortable. Stubbornly, she kept struggling with the changes although it was pretty much like walking against the wind. No one could turn the wind around.
For a moment she debated opening the windows to let some fresh air in but then a light rap on the door came from behind, distracting her.
"Anyone here?" The voice called out.
Jenna shook off her thoughts and put on a smile on her face. Calm and composed, here you go! She walked back into the main area.
"Hi, are you Melissa? Come in."
Nothing about Damon indicated hearing the door open and close behind his back, and the footsteps that followed across the hall and into the living room where he stood by the trolley with a selection of bottles and glasses. Instead, he tossed several ice cubes into the rounded glass and then filled it with amber bitter-smelling liquid letting the scent flow into the air. Gave the glass a small shake for ice and bourbon to mix and then took a small sip savoring the taste in his mouth before swallowing the liquid that burned the back of his throat.
"Damon," there was no surprise or irritation in Isobel's voice when she finally spotted him, just an acknowledgement of the fact.
He turned slowly – just in time to see her put her small black purse onto the couch beside huge fireplace, and then lifted his glad as if toasting to her before taking another small sip.
"You always had a good taste for alcohol," he said with what he hoped sounded like admiration and observed a collection of bottles again.
"And men," she added agreeing with the alcohol part.
"And houses," Damon's gaze traveled around the living room. "This one looks even bigger," he stated the obvious but Isobel's lips curved into a small proud smile nonetheless. "Why did you move?"
"To make looking for me a challenge," she replied nonchalantly but her eyebrows lifted up a little enunciating her point. "And, this one has a jacuzzi-pool, which is heaven on earth, believe me. I couldn't resist."
"I bet," he drawled. "But I probably should have been a little more specific in my question – why are you still here, in Mystic Falls?"
She flopped down onto the elegant Victorian armchair and crossed her legs, and for some reason it looked so graceful that Damon couldn't help but give her a point for that. He always thought she was beautiful but turning into a vampire made her practically exquisite, which of course couldn't escape his attention. Whatever qualities amplified in her, charm definitely was one of them.
Isobel cocked her head slightly watching him with calm amusement and asked, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Define everyone?" Damon's brows shot up.
"First Ric, then you, and I am sure that if I come across someone else in the nearest future, it would be exactly what I'd hear first."
"Someone like John Gilbert?" He prompted helpfully.
Isobel smirked. "I guess the question about how you found me can be skipped just like the one about why I didn't leave," she supposed.
"Right. Let's go straight to the point," Damon agreed easily.
"Which is-?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Katherine."
"What about her?"
"Are you in touch with her?"
"I am not her new BFF if that's what you want to know," she shrugged. "But yes, we are in touch, more or less." She rose to her feet and walked up to the trolley to pour a drink for herself. Absently, Damon noted that she chose scotch.
"Do you know where she is?"
She hesitated for a moment before turning to face him. "Maybe."
Damon stepped closer to her barely leaving any distance between the two of them. Watched her closely from above for a while. "Will you tell me?"
Isobel returned a long speculative look, let her brows come together thoughtfully as if she was considering something. She let Damon lean even closer to all but touch her lips with his and the span on her heels and walked across the living room and to the high floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led to the terrace which faced the garden and a pool.
"I'm sorry, Damon, but I'm not sure she'd appreciate it," she said at last almost with regret.
In a blink of a moment he was standing right before her. "I can be convincing."
Isobel took her time to study the cubes of ice in her glass and then let a short laugh escape her lips. "Katherine can be very convincing too, you know?" She all but whispered with a small smile that made Damon chuckle.
"Oh, believe me, I am well aware of it."
"Why are you looking for her anyway?" Isobel inquired as her eyes narrowed a little questioningly. "You already have another love interest. Which I do not appreciate and you know it, so it makes me wonder… Do you want to find Katherine for Katherine, or does it have something to do with Elena?" And truth be told, it didn't sound much like a question. There was some veiled assuredness behind her fake-wondering voice, some amusement even. And Damon knew that she was aware of the truth regardless of what he could say, and he almost hated her for it.
Yet, he did his best to keep his trademark smirk intact. "Does it make any difference?"
"Well, not for me of course. But you know Katherine, so you tell me what the difference is," she responded mimicking the tone of his voice. "She doesn't like to be used, and she doesn't like to be the second."
"Which I can shoot right back at her, of course," Damon scoffed.
"Don't be pathetic," Isobel skirted around him. "Being a puppy dog, whether for Katherine or Elena, doesn't suit you."
Damon scolded but Isobel had her back to him and didn't have a chance to appreciate the effort.
He put his glass on a coffee table then and the next moment Isobel was at the wall and he was pressing her against it with his body, their eyes flaring but beside that nothing showed true mood of the situation.
"Really, Isobel, you have the device. Why didn't you leave the town the moment you got it?" He whispered in a barely audible voice deliberately keeping his eyes on her lips.
She let him enjoy the moment before answering in the same intimate half-whisper, "I, for one thing, is no one's puppy-dog."
"And this is supposed to mean what?" His gaze fixed on her eyes again.
"Who said I came here only for a device? But…" she put her finger on his lips when Damon opened his mouth to ask yet another question she wasn't intended to answer silencing him, "the real reason is absolutely none of your business."
The doorbell rang in the hall echoing under high ceilings. Slowly, the both turned.
"Waiting for a company?" Damon asked lazily.
"No, the company usually just shows up," she pushed him away and walked out of the living room.
Damon beat her at the door though laying his hand on the knob a moment before Isobel reached for it.
"No, no, let me," he grinned at her over his shoulder. "I have to go anyway." Damon pulled the door open before she could protest or say anything at all, and chose not to express fake surprise at the sight of John Gilbert on the doorstep. "John! You're practically everywhere! But then, so am I." Damon patted Elena's Uncle-slash-Dad on the shoulder on his way out. "I'll see you around!"
In the evening Jenna was sitting on her bed, her legs crossed and a book she wanted to go through with the bookmarked pages lying beside her, totally forgotten. She couldn't care less at the moment, all her attention was focused on two small notes that lay on the colorful bedspread before her as she tried to figure out the reason of a nudging feeling they caused.
Why wouldn't she just throw them away? That was the question she didn't have an answer to. She wanted to do it, and even nearly done it a couple of hours ago, or at least she retrieved them from the upper drawer of her nightstand with that aim in the first place. But something stopped her and instead of sending them right into the trash bin, Jenna took her time to examine them once again, for what seemed to be a hundredth of time already.
And why was she bothered so much, again? She didn't know that either but something just didn't click. She knew that getting rid of the cards and throwing the whole thing out of her mind was the best idea. And the only thing standing between it and her current position was an explanation. She needed it – simple and logical. Without it she couldn't move on. Without it throwing the cars away wouldn't change anything.
A knock on the door startled her, and Jenna snapped her head up grabbing the book and shoving the postcards under the pillow hurriedly a moment before Elena poked her head into the room.
"You here?"
"Yeah, trying to study," Jenna waved the book in the air and made a funny face. "Sort of." She put it aside then. "Come in, give me an excuse to get distracted."
Smirking, Elena closed the door behind her back and then flopped onto the edge of Jenna's bed, one leg tucked beneath her. "No guilt?"
"Plenty," Jenna let out a dramatic sigh. "But what the hell? How is digging through the old stuff going? Found anything worth suffocating in the dust?"
"Actually, yes. Look." And Elena unfolded a piece of clothing she held in her hand – light-green, silk and lace, it fell on the bedspread in gentle waves almost glowing in the light of the reading lamp, silvery trimming on the strapless top catching and reflecting it making it sparkle and wink at them teasingly. "I think it's pretty."
"Oh, my God," Jenna breathed out in awe. "My prom dress. Where did you get it?"
"In one of the boxes," automatically, Elena looked up to the ceiling and then back at Jenna, a little puzzled. "I didn't know it was yours. I thought it was mom's, actually."
Jenna's fingers ran gently along the cool silk mass, soft and smooth, and her lips curved into a smile as the memories flooded into her mind.
"I didn't know Miranda kept it," she raised her head and explained. "She was the one who helped me choose it in the first place. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it." She paused. "Don't you remember?"
"No," Elena frowned. "Should I?"
"We took you with us. Shopping, girl stuff, you know? You weren't really excited and whined about wanting to have some ice-cream for hours," Jenna laughed. "I thought I'd strangle you."
"Gee, thanks, Jenna."
"It happened a few months before Scumfell ruined everything." She grimaced. "I never got to wear it. It's… a bit strange to see it now."
Silence fell between them for a while, before Elena spoke in a soft voice, "It's beautiful."
"Your mother had a good taste, regarding everything." Jenna took the dress from Elena to give it a closer look, let her gaze travel around capturing the details and then lowered it down again. "She never liked Logan. I should have listened to her." She chuckled. "Good thing is that I heard that prom sucked, and this jerk didn't have a date."
"Logan?"
"I almost wish I could have been there to see it," her smirk was a bit vengeful. "Oh, well." Jenna folded the dress. "We don't always get what we want, right?"
Elena fell backwards, a mass of her dark hair making a halo around her head. For a while she just lay studying the ceiling. "And we never listen, too." She rolled onto her side then and propped her head up on her hand. "Would you like to have it?" Her eyes darter towards the dress and then went up to Jenna's face again.
"Mm, no. Not really." Jenna shook her head after a short moment of consideration. "It's nice to know that Miranda had it all this time though. She never got tired of saying that me leaving Mystic Falls was a huge mistake. I guess she secretly hoped I'd change my mind and come back."
"Well, you ended up here anyway," Elena pointed out, both of them choosing to ignore a reason of it.
"Do you think it's a fate?" Jenna asked her with mock seriousness.
Elena hesitated, her expression mimicking her aunt's. "Yeah, I think so. Fate brought you and a mysterious history teacher to Mystic Falls. Sounds like-"
"A very cheap scenario," Jenna finished, giggling.
"A very interesting beginning, I wanted to say." Elena gave her a long meaningful look. "I'm going to put it away then." She got up from the bed. The ring of the doorbell downstairs made them both turn. "It must be Stefan," Elena explained before Jenna asked anything. "I invited him for dinner. Hope it's okay."
"Sure, have fun," Jenna said automatically, then paused and gave Elena a pointed look. "I trust you to behave."
Elena snorted. "Between us, Aunt Jenna, it wasn't me who fled the town because of the guy," she reminded walking to the door.
"Right. And… Elena?"
"What?"
She hesitated for a moment searching for the words, and then asked, "When you're done with these journals, can I have a look?"
"Sure." Elena' brows furrowed all the same though. "What do you ant to find?"
Jenna chewed on her lower lip. "I'm not sure yet," she said after a little while. "Guess I'll know when I actually find it."
It was cold. So cold that she could feel chill go right through her flesh and touch her bones. She couldn't see where she was at first. The place was too dark and it smelled like earth and stone, like a cellar or a cave. Or a tomb, Jenna thought all of a sudden feeling the uncontrolled fear growing inside of her.
She turned around slowly straining her eyes to see something – anything, and registered somewhat absently that the floor was cold smooth beneath her feet. Stone, or marble maybe, she couldn't say. Breath hitched in her throat and she swallowed hard overwhelmed by the urge to get out of there, practically suffocating with panic.
With her arms stretched before her, Jenna made several unsure steps forward until her fingers brushed against smooth stone wall. She walked along it keeping her hand on the cool surface not to lose her track again. Several times she came across thin straight cracks that probably meant that the wall was made of some blocks.
It was cold fresh air that touched her face that told her that she reached some sort of a opening a moment before her fingers touched metal bars of a gate or something like that. Jenna paused for a moment, half-surprised and half-disbelieving that she managed to get out, or was close to it at least, and then pushed it. The gate opened heavily with a piercing creak that made her pause and cringe involuntarily. In the darkness outside she heard the sound of many flapping wings as if the sound spooked a flock of birds and they took off on an instant.
The gate got stuck, still half-closed, and Jenna squeezed outside feeling a lot better by the second if only because she could breathe normally now that she didn't feel trapped anymore.
Outside, the darkness wasn't as thick. Huge white disk of a full moon was emerging from behind the clouds and then hiding again as if teasing her with brief moments of clarity. Jenna paused, her fingers flexed on the bar. She could feel cold wet grass beneath her feet and before her were crosses and headstones scattered between old thick trees, their branches hanging low, practically touching said gravestones as they swayed in the wind.
How did she get here?
Curious, Jenna turned around to have a look at what she had just left. It was a marble mausoleum of some sort, gray and pink veins distinctive on pale walls even in the ghostly light cast by the moon. It wasn't high, too. When she was inside, her head was probably almost touching the ceiling. No wonder she had this claustrophobic feeling. The gate that she was still holding onto was old, its paint started to peel off because of age and weather.
With her mind still unable to wrap around what was going on, Jenna let her gaze travel around the exterior of the mausoleum until it stopped on the wall to the right from the entrance where the list of names of deceased was engraved, some really old and somewhat faded, others new and clear.
Eleven names, Jenna counted. Ten of them Gilberts, except for the last one. Her eyes lingered on Grayson Gilbert and Miranda Sommers Gilbert for a moment. Why were they here? She knew they were buried. She was the one to pick the headstone for them. Why would their names be engraved here? And then she looked down, and forgot about her sister and brother-in-law completely.
Jenna Sommers was the last name on the list.
Her heart skipped a beat and she took a small step back letting go off the iron gate at last. A cloud came over the moon once again plunging everything into the darkness and when it was gone at last, Jenna's name seemed to start all but glow in the pale light.
She backed off stumbling on the uneven ground and nearly fell but her hand grasped a century-old cross on instinct to help her keep her balance.
And then, out of nowhere, a crow appeared. It made a circle around the mausoleum and then finally landed onto the half-open gate. Folded its wings and then stared at Jenna, its black eye piercing through her as moonlight played on its pitch black feathers. For a long while they just watched each other in silence, motionless.
There was some movement that Jenna caught out of the corner of her eye and reluctantly she shifted her gaze to the marble wall where the names became red as something thick and sticky started to drip from thin cracks and trickle down the while surface to the glass that looked almost black. Horrified, Jenna couldn't tear her eyes off of that blood-chilling picture. Her knees gone weak but somehow she forced herself to start moving. After another quick glance at the crow, Jenna span around and started to run…
She woke up on an instant and peered at the white ceiling crossed with dark shadows cast by the branches of the tree that was growing right outside her window.
Jenna let out a long breath, closed her eyes and rubbed at her eyelids waiting for her heart to calm down before it actually jumped out of her chest.
God, what the hell was wrong with her and the nightmares lately? Why on earth couldn't she spend a night without risking to have a heart attack in her sleep? And where did all this blood come from? She tried to recall the details of her dream but it started to blur and fade in her mind as soon as she woke up leaving her terrified for no reason.
It was only then that she heard this sound, barely audible but still oddly loud in complete silence. Like… She froze. It sounded pretty much like feathers brushing against each other.
Her eyes snapped open, some part of her knowing what she was going to see even before her gaze focused.
A huge plump crow was sitting on the back of her bed watching Jenna with curiosity, its black eyes glinting as if winking at her, and its head kept tilting from side to side. But as soon as it spotted Jenna look back, it spread its wings that seemed to be unnaturally huge and took off aiming for Jenna, its beak and claws ready for attack.
And this was when Jenna started to scream…
To be continued…
I know, not much Jalaric when it is supposed to be a Jalaric fic but it is kind of important for the plot and you'll have plenty in the next one, promise ;)
Reviews and comments are always highly appreciated :) Thanks for reading btw :)
