A/N: A bit later than intended, but here's the new chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
After a quiet Sunday, Rory met her friends on the side lawn outside Mystic Falls High early on Monday morning. There was still dew glimmering on the grass, and although it was thickly humid and the sun had already risen, Rory couldn't shake an instinctive bite of cold. "Yeah, I couldn't find any animal that would both live in this area and only drink blood," Mackenzie informed both of them. She was already perched on a weather-worn picnic table with her laptop open. "You two have to be right. There's a serial killer here."
Lauren grimaced and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. She'd visited Vicki the day before, but from her report their short conversation hadn't elucidated much, mostly because Vicki didn't trust her. "Ugh, I didn't want to be right."
"To be honest it's better than a rabid animal," Mackenzie countered. When both Rory and Lauren gave her surprised looks she explained, "Animals are harder to track. A serial killer is bound to fuck up eventually—someone's going to see a license plate or recognize them."
"That's fair," Rory agreed. She glanced around the rest of the sprawling side lawn. There were fewer students gathering over here rather than on the front lawn, but there were still several groups hanging around, near another picnic table and beneath one of the oak trees. She faced Mackenzie again and watched her type for a second. "What are you doing?"
"I," said Mackenzie, intently focused on her laptop screen, "am hacking into police records."
Lauren flinched and Rory let out a startled laugh. "You can't do that!" Lauren protested, swatting at Mackenzie with the denim jacket she was carrying. "They can track IP addresses or whatever!"
"Come on, I have a VPN and I'm going through three extensions," returned Mackenzie. "I'm not an idiot. Anyway I just want to read them, not edit them."
"It would be the best way to find out what happened to those people a week ago," said Rory. When Lauren shot her a betrayed glance Rory said defensively, "This is faster than trying to go to the station to ask."
"Oh, and another couple was murdered gruesomely this weekend," said Mackenzie, and this time both Rory and Lauren jumped. "They were campers found in the woods. I saw it on the news—they said it was another animal attack, but there's no fucking way… Aha! Here we go."
Rory and Lauren crowded around Mackenzie on top of the picnic table to peer at the laptop screen. Rory skimmed the PDF that Mackenzie had found and pulled up: it was the official report on Brooke Fenton and Darren Malloy, the couple that had been killed on the highway. It was a closed case and the local medical examiner had claimed it was, of course, an animal. "The police can't actually believe that," said Lauren. "How could an animal possibly shatter their entire windshield and then kill them and get away without leaving a trail of any kind?"
"Yeah, this is bullshit," agreed Mackenzie. "Let's check on Vicki and the campers from this weekend."
She fished through a few more PDFs and pulled up each file, and they looked almost exactly the same. Each case was closed and confirmed to have been an animal attack by the same medical examiner. "The police have to be in on it," Rory said as she and Lauren leaned away from the laptop and Mackenzie started typing incomprehensibly again, presumably cleaning up her trail. "Either that or maybe they're trying to prevent panic?"
"Within their own departments?" said Mackenzie. She snapped her laptop shut and slid it into her backpack as the first bell rang inside the building, echoing across the lawn. "I don't think so."
All three of them climbed down from the picnic table and started toward the building as the other students outside did the same. "Well, either way, they know more about it than anyone else," Lauren pointed out. "Or one of them is behind this." Rory winced. "Anyway I'll see you two at lunch," Lauren added, and before Mackenzie or Rory could answer she jogged over to join a few volleyball girls.
"What the hell are we supposed to do if the police are in on it?" Mackenzie asked as she and Rory drew nearer to the side door. "Or if they don't intend to do anything about it?"
Rory shrugged. "Stop the killer ourselves."
Mackenzie rolled her eyes. "Sure, because three teenage girls would be able to do that," she remarked, and a moment later they entered the cold school building. "We can figure it out later though. See you."
"Bye," called Rory as Mackenzie pulled ahead to turn onto the foreign language hallway. Rory maintained her original pace as she wandered toward the history hall. Mackenzie was kind of right—the most the three of them would really be able to do was call the cops, and if the cops were covering up the problem, they wouldn't interested in solving it.
Yikes, thought Rory, and she pushed her hand back through her hair. The situation was a mess no matter how she tried to look at it. I need to just—focus on schoolwork or something. She could at least try to manage that for the morning.
Between second and third period, though, as Rory walked to AP US History, she caught sight of He Who Must Not Be Named ahead. She slowed a little—then she realized it was either ask him for more details or ask Matt, and despite everything she would have preferred to talk to Tyler. Rory quickened her steps again to fall in beside him. "Hey," she said as she did. "I, um, heard about Vicki."
Tyler looked more tired and petulant than Rory had ever seen him, and he rubbed at his jaw, refusing to meet her eye. "Yeah, yeah. I should be with her."
"Actually, I was gonna say it seems weird an animal would get that close to the party," Rory returned. "Elena and Jeremy both said she wasn't that far."
Tyler adjusted the straps of his black backpack. "It's definitely weird," he agreed. He shot Rory an almost accusatory glance. "Jeremy carried her out of the woods."
"Yeah, I don't know what's going on there," said Rory. And I'd prefer not to think about it, she silently added as they turned onto another hallway together. "Did Matt say anything about her condition, or if she gave him any specific details on what happened?"
Tyler suddenly stopped, nearly causing a monumental crash in the middle of the hallway, and rounded toward Rory. Without thinking about it she grasped his elbow to pull him toward a set of water fountains on the concrete wall to let everyone else keep walking. "What the hell do you care?" Tyler asked her as he shook off her hand. "You should hate her. I started hooking up with her a month after we broke up."
Rory hadn't been aware the timeline was that close. She tried to keep her expression blank as she answered. "I'm kind of friends with her. And eventually we might be able to be friends. Not to mention at this rate there could be a serial killer in town."
"Right," said Tyler, studying Rory with a somewhat unusual expression. "Fine. Matt said she'd be okay." He glanced around the hall, the crowd thinning as other students disappeared into their classrooms. "They've been keeping her in the hospital for observation and no one knows what the hell happened."
"Okay," said Rory. She really would have to ask Matt, she thought, already resigning herself to whatever that conversation would be like. "I'm glad she'll be fine." She stepped around Tyler to resume walking to their history class and he walked with her. "So—what'd you think of this homework?"
Tyler snorted. "You think I did it?" True, thought Rory, because Tyler both did well in his classes with minimal effort and could have won an Olympic medal in bullshitting homework as the teacher was walking around taking it up. The second bell rang overhead as Tyler cleared his throat and asked, "Are you watching the comet? On Thursday?"
Mystic Falls tended to have a variety of cute, quirky events hosted in the town square throughout the year, and that Thursday there would be a viewing party for a comet that hadn't passed over town in almost two hundred years. Rory couldn't be sure why Tyler would ask, though. "Um, I have to work, but I might step outside for a minute," she said. "Why? Are you?"
"Yeah, with Matt," confirmed Tyler. In the next second the conversation had to end because they reached Mr. Tanner's classroom. Tyler entered first, and as Rory followed, she found the rest of the class was already seated. Tyler strolled over to his usual desk near a soccer player and Rory hurried to hers near the windows showing the empty side lawn.
Mr. Tanner was near his desk with his arms folded, and he cleared his throat as Rory dropped her backpack and sat down. "Well," he said, managing to give both Rory and Tyler a sharp glance at once, "now that we're all here."
"Sorry, Mr. Tanner," said Rory probably too casually.
"Sure," said Mr. Tanner. He gave her a suspicious glance before starting the lesson. They'd started learning about the early stages of colonization the week before and were still hashing out the details, mostly because Mr. Tanner had no concept of pacing or how to be a functioning human in society. His favorite pastime was either calling out students and mocking them for no reason or giving them detentions.
Throughout class, Rory split her time between taking notes and doodling in the margins of her notebook with her green pen. Mr. Tanner seemed to notice, even though Rory had thought she was hidden by Dylan Savage's broad shoulders, because he called on her to answer a question near the end of class. "Um, sorry?" said Rory, glancing up at him.
"Pay attention, Miss Gilbert," said Mr. Tanner, voice laced with irritation. "Can you tell me why the Roanoke colony failed?"
From his smug expression he probably assumed she wouldn't be able to. "Yes," said Rory, maintaining direct eye contact. "They might have survived if John Smith had ever returned with a second ship of supplies. As it is most historians believe the settlers joined the Croatoans."
Mr. Tanner studied her for a long second and Rory flashed him a charming smile. "Thank you, Miss Gilbert," said Mr. Tanner suddenly, turning to resume pacing back and forth at the front of the classroom. "Clearly you've been watching the History Channel." He cast her another superior glance. "Although Matt Damon won't be in every documentary."
To Rory's annoyance half the class snickered as she clenched her jaw. Screw you, Rory thought to Mr. Tanner as he continued the lecture and she tried not to glare at him. The add-drop period wouldn't end until Friday—maybe she could somehow find another AP history class to take?
There isn't one, Rory thought almost immediately afterward. And since AP US was the only AP she'd managed to land, there was no way she could give it up. She guessed she'd just have to deal with this sexist jerk for the rest of the year and somehow pretend he didn't bother her. It'll be my greatest exercise in acting yet.
At least the rest of the class, and Rory's next one, passed with no further drama. A few minutes after she left Physics and stopped by her locker, though, Matt caught up with her in the hall. "Hey, Rory," he said as he did, and Rory automatically glanced around for an escape route. There were none in sight, only literature classrooms and a few gaggles of freshmen. "I heard Tanner was a real jackass earlier."
Rory stifled a sigh. "When isn't he?" she said as lightly as she could. She looked back at Matt, whose blond hair was messier than usual, as though he'd been running his hand through it. "How's Vicki?"
"She's—alright," said Matt with a lopsided shrug. "She was completely out of it when she first woke up, but she's been getting better." He tugged on one strap of his navy backpack. "This is getting a little freaky, huh? All these animal attacks?"
"So Vicki confirmed it was an animal?"
A shadow briefly crossed Matt's face. "I mean—I dunno what else it could be, but when she first came to the morning after—" He hesitated. "She said it was a vampire." Oh my GOD— "She was probably still on something though."
"Yeah, maybe," agreed Rory distantly, her mind already racing. "Um—I'm going that way," she added, gesturing toward the literature hall. It was where the only vending machine with Coke Zero was located. "Text me updates. And tell Vicki I can try to take any shifts Robert won't let her give up."
Matt grinned at Rory. "Sure thing. Thanks, Ror." With that he continued onward.
Rory turned to take the literature hall, her stomach twisting into a knot. A vampire did make sense, she thought as she slowed to a more contemplative pace. As far as she knew there were no scientific studies or observations of them, since they were largely believed to be myths—whereas, as Mackenzie had pointed out, there were no wild animals that would half-heartedly attack and then run, much less migrate several miles over the course of a week to move closer to civilization.
She guessed there could have been a pack of rabid animals, but that made even less sense. Most animals that lived in packs at least hunted in pairs from what she knew, and they would certainly have succeeded in murdering Vicki. Rory stopped in front of the vending machine and stared at the thick plastic buttons for a long moment without seeing them. But—vampires can't actually exist, she thought almost pleadingly. And why would the police be aware of them but for some reason protecting them—
Unless the vampire was one of them?
That didn't make any sense either, Rory thought, frustration gnawing at her. There hadn't been any animal attacks until the last two weeks. What changed? Rory wondered, and she swung her backpack around to rummage through it for her wallet, still running on autopilot. September started, but it's still warm out—it can't be a weather-related thing. Maybe it has to do with the comet? Shit, the attacks from the last two centuries had nothing to do with that—
The more she tried to untangle it the heavier each possibility seemed. Rory shook her head to clear it, or at least set the issue aside for now, and she inserted the appropriate amount of change into the vending machine and hit the scratched Coke Zero button.
When Rory made it outside into the sunny, warm afternoon air, she strode straight across the side lawn to the picnic table where Mackenzie and Lauren were already seated, Mackenzie on one of the benches and Lauren on top of the table. Without preamble Rory announced, "Vicki Donovan said she was attacked by a vampire."
Mackenzie choked on a sip of Diet Coke as realization and delight dawned on Lauren's face. "Oh my gosh!" Lauren burst. "That makes perfect sense! The bite on the neck, the mysterious attacks that couldn't have been done by an actual animal—"
"No no no," countered Mackenzie, fanning herself as she apparently tried to breathe properly. Rory set her backpack on the grass and sat down on the bench across from Mackenzie, opening her bottle of Coke Zero with a hiss. "We are not even entertaining this idea. How do we know it wasn't a regular serial killer?"
"How do we know it was?" returned Lauren. "Vampire's as good a theory as any! And Vicki said it herself!"
Mackenzie gave Lauren an acidic look. "Right, and Vicki's well-known for her stable, reasonable outlook on life and firm stance against drug use."
Rory snorted. "Okay, listen," she said when Lauren gave her an indignant glance, "I'm with Lauren." Mackenzie huffed as Lauren straightened up and grinned, appeased. "Vicki had already been in the hospital overnight by the time she woke up to tell Matt a vampire attacked her. There probably weren't any non-required drugs in her system."
Mackenzie blinked at Rory. "I…no," she protested, though more weakly than before. "Mythical creatures can't exist. How the hell would no one have heard about them or seen them on the news? If vampires exist why don't werewolves or faeries?"
"They might," challenged Lauren.
"No," Mackenzie repeated, pointing at Lauren with her Diet Coke. Then she tilted her head in apparent thought. "Alright," she decided. "If you two want to believe a vampire's behind this, fine, but I need more proof. We have to find out if those other bodies were fully drained of blood."
"I'm in," said Rory at once.
"What, are we gonna break into the medical examiner's office?" asked Lauren.
"I was thinking more along the lines of ask a few questions, but either way."
Lauren grinned and clapped her hands together. "Awesome! This is so exciting, it's gonna be like a mission." She glanced from Mackenzie to Rory and back. "What are we calling it? Can we call it—I don't know, Operation Stop the Leeches? Actually, that's too disgusting. Operation Toothy Menace? Operation Blood Bank? Operation B Positive?"
"I will pay you to stop," Mackenzie deadpanned.
"Buzzkill."
The trio failed to choose an adequate operation nickname by the end of the day. They did, however, decide after school ended that their visit to the medical examiner's office would have to wait until each of them had clear schedules on Wednesday afternoon. Lauren volunteered to drive, and they agreed.
When the final bell had rung on Wednesday, Rory swung by her locker and strode toward the parking lot. She had to briefly stop on her way to chat with the sophomore class representative, but she extricated herself; and moments later, when she rounded onto another hall, she nearly slammed into her ex-best friend Caitlin Ward. "Excuse me," said Caitlin with audible disdain, and Rory just quickened her pace to escape. Since the melodrama that had constituted ninth grade, even little confrontations with Caitlin hadn't gone well.
Out in the parking lot, which was still crawling with students, Rory found Mackenzie and Lauren waiting near Lauren's blue Camry. "There you are," said Mackenzie as Rory approached. She straightened from where she'd been leaning against the passenger's side door with one shoulder as Lauren turned around. "Took you long enough."
"I almost ran into Caitlin," Rory explained bracingly.
Both Mackenzie and Lauren grimaced, Mackenzie disgusted and Lauren sympathetic. "At least you got out," Lauren offered. She walked somewhat jauntily around the front of her car to the driver's side, jangling her keys in one hand. "Who knows how many haven't?"
"Countless numbers," said Mackenzie. "The entire tennis team."
Rory laughed as she walked around Mackenzie to the back. She swung open the door and slung her backpack in before following, keeping one hand on the door handle to pull it shut—but as soon as she sat on the cloth backseat she paused, her white high-tops hovering over the cluttered floor.
"Um, Lauren?" said Rory as she tried to find somewhere to put her feet down without setting them on dirty clothes, crumpled papers, or empty Cherry Coke bottles. When she succeeded she buckled her seatbelt and reached for her backpack to rescue it. "When was the last time someone sat back here?"
"I dunno. Maybe last weekend?"
"You've been making people sit in this?"
Mackenzie, riding shotgun, twisted around—and as soon as she saw the backseat her expression shifted to one of sheer horror. "Good God. That's terrible." She faced forward again and swatted Lauren's arm. "Just force one of the volleyball freshmen to clean for you."
Lauren sighed. "Ah, Mackenzie, you've forgotten…I prefer not to exploit others."
"I'll do it for you," remarked Rory.
The trio continued chatting as they pulled out of the Mystic Falls High lot and followed the somewhat winding road downtown. After passing through several small neighborhoods with one-story houses and taking some shortcuts along magnolia-lined roads, they headed to the hospital. They found a spot on the second floor of one of the few parking garages in town, near the mall and across from their destination.
It was still unseasonably warm, golden afternoon sunlight slanting into the garage, and Rory drew in a breath as she followed Mackenzie and Lauren down one of the stairwells. She could smell concrete and diesel, but she was sure she could smell indistinct summery grass as well.
They had to follow a long sidewalk past several entrances to the mall—which, from the parking garage and the number of people wandering in and out, seemed to be packed—and then waited at a crosswalk for the nearest stoplight to change. There was a couple standing with them, and Mackenzie gestured for Rory and Lauren to step closer before saying in a low voice, "We have to figure out what our story is before we go in."
"Can we just be curious bystanders?" asked Rory, keeping her voice equally low. From her brief research over the past few days it seemed obtaining reports from the Chief Medical Examiners in Virginia cost money, but maybe a small-town medical examiner would be free.
"No, I agree with Mackenzie," whispered Lauren. Mackenzie blinked and frowned approvingly. "If the police are covering this up, they have to have someone in the medical examiner's office covering up for them, too. The real story might not be written anywhere."
"So what do we do?" asked Rory. "Try to question everyone?"
"We have to find out who was working when the victims were brought in," said Mackenzie. "Then we can question them."
"What's our play right now?" asked Lauren.
Mackenzie shrugged. Rory glanced across the street, toward the tall, sprawling brick hospital building and the ill-watered trees in the lot. "Someone needs to talk to the medical examiner," Rory mused, "someone needs to find out who was working when, and someone needs to talk to whoever was working."
She looked back at her two friends. "You're better at talking to people," Mackenzie said to Lauren. "You can talk to whoever was working. And you can distract whoever's at the front desk while I find out who was working."
"Sounds good," chirped Lauren.
"And that leaves me with the medical examiner," Rory concluded. "Should we walk in together?"
"You can go in a few minutes ahead of us," Mackenzie offered.
The three agreed and in a few seconds crossed the street to the hospital. Rory left Mackenzie and Lauren loitering on the sidewalk closest to the building, near a few neatly trimmed hedges and just out of sight of the first-floor windows, and strode in through the sliding glass doors. A gust of air-conditioning greeted her and she paused only briefly once inside to glance around the lobby.
Aside from a few people in upholstered chairs, outdated magazines on coffee tables, and wilting plants, there wasn't much to see. Rory walked over to check out the listing on the wall near the elevator of who was located on each floor. The medical examiner would have to be with the morgue, Rory thought. She found it a level below the ground floor. Down to the basement it is, then.
She walked to the nearest stairwell and trotted down the impeccably clean steps to a heavy basement door with a small window. Rory inhaled some antiseptic-smelling air, rolled her shoulders back, and entered the low-ceilinged hall.
There was much less light on this floor, all fluorescent and eerie, and Rory had to wander around for a minute or two to find the medical examiner's office. She shoved her hands into her pockets and attempted not to think about the reason it was so cold down here. The medical examiner's office had the only ajar door, and she paused to rap politely on it before pushing it open. "Hello?"
The medical examiner was a pinched sort of pale with neat dark brown hair. He glanced up from his desktop monitor as Rory stepped into his office—the space was already small and square, but the effect was amplified by the overstuffed filing cabinets lining the walls and scattered stacks of books. No wonder he leaves the door open, thought Rory. He must have felt as trapped as the bodies down the hall. Ick. "What can I do for you, Miss…?" the medical examiner started.
"Gilbert," Rory supplied. She took another step into the room, closer to his wooden desk and the single chair tucked in front of it between a filing cabinet and pile of books. "I have a few questions about the deaths from the past few weeks, if you wouldn't mind."
He clearly hadn't expected such an opening: his brow furrowed, and he leaned back. "Why would you have questions about that?" he said. He seemed to forcibly clear his expression. "And why bother asking me rather than asking Sheriff Forbes?"
"I already talked to her," Rory lied. "She sent me to you for more thorough details."
"Really," said the medical examiner flatly.
"Really," Rory confirmed. Then, although she knew it could backfire and her heart was starting to pound, she withdrew her phone from the pocket of her brown suede jacket and held it out. "You can call her if you want. I'm sure she'd love to have even more of her time wasted on me today."
The medical examiner's eyes flicked from Rory's phone up to her face, and she raised her eyebrows at him in what she hoped was a clear challenge. Overhead she heard the whoosh of the air-conditioning—then the medical examiner observed, "The Gilberts were Founders."
He had to mean Founders of Mystic Falls. "Yep," said Rory. Her father had always been too proud of their ancestors.
The medical examiner watched her for another long moment. He leaned forward, his chair creaking as he placed his elbows on his desk, and he said, "What are your questions?"
Rory had no idea what being part of a Founding Family had to do with this guy deciding to trust her, but she didn't question him. She unlocked her phone with a few taps and opened her Notes app to type in it. "I assume Brooke Fenton and Darren Malloy's times of death were roughly the same," she said, referring to the couple that had been killed on the highway.
"Roughly, yes."
"Just for extra confirmation, what time was that?"
The medical examiner fidgeted with his watch. "Sometime between 10 and midnight."
"Their bodies were drained of blood," said Rory. The medical examiner didn't blink, having gone rather still, and to corroborate the running theory Rory added, "And they were only bitten on their necks." The medical examiner said nothing. "I suppose the same could be said for Liz Farley and Jake Shepard." Those were the dead campers.
"...yes," the medical examiner said.
"Were their times of death between 10 and midnight?"
The medical examiner nodded.
"As for the bites," said Rory, meeting the medical examiner's eye, "could the dentals be traced? Were the punctures far enough apart to be from, for example, a human jaw?"
That was it—the medical examiner's shoulders tensed. "I think that's more than enough, Miss Gilbert," he said, his voice sharp. "If you have any further questions you can ask the sheriff." Before Rory could answer he continued, "And don't think I won't call her to check your story."
"By all means, go ahead," said Rory, because there was little else she could say to this. She could only pray she wasn't placing a target on her own back. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know you don't trust her judgment."
With that Rory turned on the heel of her high-top and left the office, pausing in the doorway to glance back at the medical examiner. "Thanks for your time," she said, and she walked out and down the hall, leaving the door open. As she walked she lengthened her stride, and soon she was trotting up the steps in the significantly warmer stairwell.
Rory crossed back through the lobby—neither Mackenzie nor Lauren were anywhere to be seen—and emerged through the sliding doors to the sidewalk. Once outside she glanced around until she spotted Mackenzie and Lauren back across the lot, lingering on the sidewalk that lined the street. It only took a few seconds for Rory to reach them.
As soon as she did she reported, "The bodies were drained of blood, all four victims were killed between 10 and midnight, and the medical examiner kicked me out when I asked if the punctures on their necks were far enough apart to be left by a human jaw."
Lauren spluttered what might have been a triumphant laugh and Mackenzie sighed. "Great." She waved one hand. "Lauren distracted, and I managed to find the names of any assistants working those nights. And their numbers."
"No one's answered so far," said Lauren. "But I'm gonna keep calling, and maybe I'll find out if there's more than one. But oh my gosh—I can't believe vampires are really behind this!"
"Maybe," countered Mackenzie.
"It seems likely," said Rory, and while Mackenzie shrugged in uncomfortable but apparent concession Lauren nodded. "But—what do we do once we have confirmation? How do we track down immortal supernatural creatures?"
Mackenzie seemed startled, dark eyes widening. "There's no way in hell we can! What would we even do with them? Put them in prison?"
"We're not killing them," said Lauren.
"I don't want to," interrupted Rory. Mackenzie and Lauren gave her matching funny glances and Rory, though even admitting this seemed to be too much, said, "I want to prevent more death. I don't care whose it is, I just want—less of it."
Both of her friends studied her, Lauren's expression softening slightly and Mackenzie's flickering between understanding and vague frustration. Rory couldn't decide which reaction grated on her more and cleared her throat. "We could try to report them to an authority higher than Sheriff Forbes."
Mackenzie pinched the bridge of her nose. "We'd have to. Since the police are in on it."
"I still don't know why," said Lauren. "Shouldn't they be trying to prevent death? Wouldn't a curfew help?"
"Yeah, I don't know what that's about," agreed Rory. "Considering the murders all seem to be happening around the same time."
Mackenzie threw her hands up. "I'll never understand cops." Rory and Lauren made noises of assent and Mackenzie heaved another sigh. "Now," she said, glancing from one of them to the other, "let's get out of here. I'm starving."
