"Are you absolutely sure you compelled Bella to forget about vampires?" Elena questioned, her brow furrowed with concern as we stood outside the school, the autumn leaves swirling around us in the chilly breeze. "I can't shake the feeling that she still remembers."
I sighed, feeling a weight in my chest. "Bella isn't unintelligent; she might not suspect the existence of vampires, but she definitely senses that something isn't right."
Elena scowled, her eyes darkening. "Maybe we could ask Damon to compel her to forget." I felt a shiver at the mere thought of that, and my expression must have betrayed my unease because she frowned deeply in response. "What's wrong?"
"I don't think we should let Damon anywhere near her," I said, my voice firm yet laced with urgency.
"Why not?" she challenged, crossing her arms defensively.
"Because if she does remember, I fear he will hurt her. He doesn't know how to hold back."
"Maybe we could—"
"I already compelled her to steer clear of Damon," I interrupted, hoping to close the discussion. I could feel the tension thickening as she regarded me with skepticism.
That didn't silence her.
"That's clever advice, but what if she goes to the sheriff?" Her tone was tinged with a mix of dread and determination.
"Then why hasn't she gone yet?" I countered, peering down the sun-dappled path leading to the school's entrance.
"Maybe she was searching for more proof." Her voice was quieter now as if pondering the possibilities.
"Bella's scent... it's intoxicating. He won't think twice about draining her dry." A shudder ran through me just at the thought.
"Maybe—"
"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly in frustration. "I don't think Damon realized it, but I have reason to believe Bella... He could escape because he could reach out to Caroline mentally after he fed on her."
Just then, I spotted Bella's truck pulling into the lot, its worn tires crunching over stones. Her grandmother stepped out, her movements slow but graceful as she ambled toward the school, pausing to greet a passing teacher. They moved past us, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air.
"What are you saying, Stefan?" Elena's voice pulled me back from my thoughts, her eyes wide with alarm.
"He didn't feed after he attacked Bella; he just said she—"
"Are you saying she made Damon stronger?!" Elena gasped, her face pale beneath the sun. "Does he know?"
As Bella and her grandmother walked past us, I caught snippets of their conversation; they mentioned my name and Damon's.
A wave of anxiety washed over me.
While Elena's assumption could be correct, I couldn't risk Damon gaining more power and jeopardizing Bella's life.
"I don't know," I admitted, feeling the weight of uncertainty settles in my chest.
I could handle Bella. I just had to keep her safe.
I approached my locker and carefully slid some items inside, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at me from within. The corridors were bustling with classmates, but I felt disconnected as I prepared for Gran to ask about my day. Sure enough, she sidled up to me with a gentle presence, her voice soft but inquisitive. "How was school?"
I flinched slightly at her sudden appearance, and to my surprise, I fumbled my stack of books. They tumbled to the floor with a heavy thud, sending papers scattering.
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said, her expression apologetic and understanding.
"It's okay, Gran. School was fine," I replied, trying to sound casual, even though I could still feel the fluttering nerves in my stomach. "I'm fine. I'm fine," I reassured myself internally.
"Did they find a permanent teacher yet?" she asked, genuine curiosity lighting up her eyes.
I bent to gather my books, the weight of her question pulling me back to the day's events as we strolled toward the school's exit. "Yes, they did. His name is Mr. Alaric Saltzman," I said, my voice steadying.
"Is he anything like William?" she queried, a hint of concern in her tone.
"I don't think so, but today was his first day. He made us stand up and talk about ourselves," I explained, recalling how uncomfortable that had felt.
"What did you say?" Gran pressed, her interest piqued.
"The bell rang just in time to save me from speaking much, but I'm sure someone filled him in about the attack that happened not too long ago. Maybe that's why he asked. He might be a gorehound," I remarked, a hint of skepticism lacing my words.
"Gorehound? That sounds unpleasant," Gran responded, visibly disturbed by the thought.
"It is," I agreed, exchanging a knowing glance.
"This town isn't as safe as I remember," she lamented, her brow furrowing with concern and nostalgia.
"Back when you lived here, Gramps probably had a shotgun," I reminded her, the image of my grandfather gruffly guarding our home warming my heart.
"Your father called it a boomstick," she laughed softly, the memory bringing a smile.
"Do you remember if any more of Beau's old friends still live in town?" I inquired, shifting the conversation slightly.
Gran shrugged, her face thoughtful. "I think they're all gone, except for one. He left town years ago."
"Do you remember his name?" I pressed, hoping for a lead.
"Something starting with a J. But I doubt he still lives around here. Maybe if I could find one of those old yearbooks," she suggested, her voice hopeful yet doubtful.
"I would like to talk to Jeremy's aunt, Jenna," I said, feeling a surge of determination.
"Why?" Gran asked, her expression shifting to curiosity once more.
"To learn about my life before we left," I replied, the weight of those unsaid memories pressing on my chest.
Suddenly, Gran changed the subject. "What's going on with that blonde girl?"
"Who, Caroline? What do you mean?" I asked, caught off guard by her abruptness.
"Aren't you supposed to be hanging out together?" she inquired, her inquisitive gaze never wavering.
"Yes, but she has her hands full trying to get Bonnie and Elena together," I explained, the complexities of teenage friendship creeping into my voice.
"Is that Gilbert girl still acting like the sun rises and falls out of her rear?" Gran asked, her disapproval clear as day.
"A little," I admitted, unable to suppress a grin despite the truth in her words.
Looking upward, I noticed Elena and Stefan standing a short distance away, deep in conversation, their attention seemingly focused on me. An uneasy feeling washed over me; it was as if they were piecing together something I was desperate to keep hidden.
"It's that Salvatore boy, Stefan. That is his name, right?" Gran asked as she noticed my distraction.
"Yes, ma'am," I confirmed, my mind still racing.
"Who's Damon?" Gran continued, her tone probing.
"Damon Salvatore? He's Stefan's brother," I explained, my thoughts swirling with what I'd heard about him.
"I heard the Gilbert girl say something about him getting stronger just now," Gran mentioned, her voice tinted with concern.
Damon getting stronger? That can't be good.
"He tends to lurk around the school under the guise of watching out for his younger brother, but really, it's just to check out the girls," I informed her, my tone shifting to severe.
"Has he threatened any of you?" Gran asked, worry etching lines on her face.
"I overheard that he bit a girl," I replied vaguely, sidestepping the most pressing question. "But Damon's crazy if he thinks he can intimidate me," I added, trying to sound brave despite the rising apprehension in my chest.
"Should I call the sheriff?" Gran asked, her concern escalating.
"No, it's just a rumor and innuendo," I reassured her, hoping to quell her fears.
"I suppose you're right. Just be careful," Gran cautioned, her eyes scanning my face for any signs of discomfort.
The atmosphere felt heavy as we walked toward the truck parked under the school awning.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental would unfold, and I remained uncertain whether it would lead to something good or awful.
All I could do was brace myself for whatever lay ahead.
"Are you going to career night?" Jeremy asked, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation that filled the crowded history classroom.
A few days later, as I settled into my seat next to him, I glanced over to find him completely absorbed in the pages of an old, worn book. The air around us buzzed with excited chatter, but somehow, he caught my soft greeting.
"Uh..."
"Did you need a ride?" he continued, his gaze lifting to meet mine. "You and your grandmother can join Jenna and me. I think Jenna has a bit of a crush on Mr. Saltzman."
"Okay," I replied, excited at the thought of spending more time with anyone besides Gran or me.
It was a funny way to boost your GPA.
"I don't know, though. Gran's still in her Grandmama Bear mode," I said with a slight chuckle, recalling her overprotective tendencies.
"Is your neck okay?" Jeremy's brow furrowed with concern.
"It's sore, but at least I don't have to wear the collar anymore," I said, remembering the annoying brace that had been my companion for too long. "What are you reading?"
He held up the book, and a spark of intrigue filled his eyes. "I found this old journal that belonged to an ancestor of mine. Jonathan Gilbert."
JG.
"Jonathan Gilbert?" I echoed, curious about the mysterious past he was delving into.
"He wrote about demons and people being slaughtered," he said, his voice dropping dramatically, making shivers run down my spine.
He may have written about vampires.
"You'll have to let me read it sometime," I said, intrigued by the tales that could unfold.
"Yeah, sure," he replied, his mind already lost in thoughts of his ancestor.
JG.
"Do you know when Jonathan Gilbert was born?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Somewhere in the 1800s," he answered a hint of pride in his voice.
"Are you writing about your—what is he to you exactly?" I asked, wanting to untangle the family tree that was so intricately woven.
"My great-great-grandfather, maybe add a few more greats; I'm not entirely sure. I bet my dad would know," he shrugged, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
"Maybe your Aunt Jenna knows," I said, recalling the family ties he had mentioned earlier.
"Or maybe my Uncle John does," he added thoughtfully.
"Uncle John?" I inquired, trying to piece together this new character in his family's narrative.
"My dad's little brother," he clarified, and I took note, placing another piece in the puzzle of his family history.
JG.
"Are you doing anything later?"
"Just going to career night with Jenna; why?"
"I have some pictures of my uncle; perhaps you could help me identify some names,"
"Alright,"
As we drove home, I filled Gran in on career night. She seemed hesitant initially, her brow furrowed with uncertainty, but when I mentioned Jeremy, her protests faded away like mist in the morning sun. I clarified that we were just friends, yet I could see the fleeting spark of interest in her eyes.
After getting home, I changed into a long-sleeved, forest green shirt that echoed the deep hues of the forest outside, paired it with faded jeans, and slipped on my well-worn black Converse.
As I brushed my hair, I saw myself in the mirror and grimaced at the shirt's color. It was the same shade as Stefan's captivating eyes—haunting and beautiful. I doubted anyone would notice the similarity, but just to be safe, I threw on a brown flannel shirt to add some contrast.
We were supposed to meet with Jeremy and his aunt Jenna, but I felt an odd disconnect from them. I spotted Jeremy animatedly chatting with Tyler, but an adult ushered them out the door, leaving me stranded. Meanwhile, Jenna was lost in conversation with Mr. Saltzman, their voices fading into the background noise of chatter and laughter.
My eyes wandered anxiously until they landed on Stefan and Elena, leaning casually against the wall, their faces close together in deep conversation.
A twinge of insecurity shot through me as I wondered if I was the topic of their discussion. I pulled out my phone to text Caroline and Matt, but my hopes were dashed with silence; it seemed everyone was swept up in their own worlds.
"I think I left something in the truck," I announced to Gran, trying to mask my frustration. "I'll be right back."
I walked outside briskly toward the truck, the crisp evening air brushing against my skin as I fished my keys from my pocket. I dropped my keys in a moment of clumsiness that felt straight out of a horror film
As I bent to retrieve them, another hand reached for the
same set of keys, and my heart plummeted.
"Hello, School Girl."
The voice sent a chill down my spine.
"Haven't seen you around much," he continued, his smooth tone laced with a hint of mischief.
I refused to turn and face him, avoiding the glow of his charm. My eyes fixated on my keys, now dangling tantalizingly from his fingertips.
"What was your name again?" he pressed. When I didn't respond, he growled, "Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"
His question brought back memories of my own parents, and a tightening in my chest steeled my resolve. I finally turned to confront him.
Damon Salvatore stood before me, exuding an effortless coolness that would make any teenage character in a TV show envious. He was dressed in a way that screamed rebellious youth, complete with a cocky smirk that made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
"Amber," I said,
"Amber?!"
"Amber Alert. I'm sure you've heard of me." I tried to keep my tone light, but the tension thickened in the air.
"Cute."
"What do you want?"
"Stefan called me."
"I'm not Stefan," I replied sharply.
"I can see that."
"Well, what do you want?" I asked, my irritation growing.
"Ouch. I'm only a well-wisher—"
"There's a girl named Vicky Donovan. Have you seen her?" He glanced at me expectantly.
"She's the sister of that quarterback Elena used to date before Stefan, right?" I recalled.
"Yes, that's her."
"No."
"Hmm. May I have my keys back?"
"Leaving so soon? Don't care about your future?" he retorted with a raised eyebrow.
"My future is set in stone; yours, on the other hand—"
"What's that supposed to mean, you little—?"
"Damon. Bella?" Stefan's voice cut through the tension as he hurried over, clearly confused by the scene before him. "What's going on?"
"Nothing much—"
In a swift movement, I snatched my keys from Damon just as Elena approached, her expression mirroring my own unease. "I'm going back inside," I stated firmly.
"Wait a minute." Damon grabbed my wrist, but as if my skin burned him, he released me instantly.
I glanced down at my bracelet, the metal cool against my anxious skin, while they stared incredulously at me. Damon glared my way as Elena clung to Stefan's arm, seeking protection.
"Bella?" a familiar voice called, making Elena and I jump.
I turned to see Gran and Jeremy making their way toward us, the sight of them grounding me as Damon stepped back, his tension diffusing.
"Jeremy," I gasped, relief flooding me as Stefan clamped a hand on Damon's arm.
"You wanted to show me something?" Jeremy queried, oblivious to the tension as Damon and Stefan walked away, Stefan practically dragging him along.
Once they were out of sight, I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"I did?" I asked, my mind still swirling with confusion.
"Pictures of your uncle," Jeremy reminded me gently.
I nodded and crumpled against the truck, the cool metal offering little comfort. Gran, Jeremy, and Elena rushed to my side, their expressions full of concern.
"Bella?" Gran cried, her voice laced with worry as Jeremy helped me off the truck. "What's wrong?" she directed her anxious gaze toward Elena. "What happened?"
"Damon drained the last bit of energy from my social battery," I gasped, feeling lightheaded and shaky. "I'm starting to feel a bit woozy."
Gran took the keys from my trembling hands, her grip steady and reassuring. "Did he do something to you?''
'His mere existence is enough to unnerve me.'
"I'll take you home."
With Jeremy's help, I climbed into the truck, nausea threatening to overwhelm me. "I'll show you the photos tomorrow," I murmured, trying to focus on something other than the lingering aftermath of my encounter with Damon.
"Caroline?" Elena whispered, her voice barely audible as the last remnants of the conversation faded into the distance.
We walked a few steps away, the tension between us palpable, and finally came to a halt in a quiet corner.
"Caroline's okay," I reassured her, though my heart weighed heavy. "I took her home. She's shaken up but only knows that Logan attacked her. Nothing more."
A sigh of relief escaped her lips, though worry still clouded her features. "Where's Logan?"
I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding, my voice low and serious. "Damon's handling him."
Elena's face drained of color, her eyes wide with apprehension. "As in...?"
I nodded gravely, the weight of the evening's events hanging in the air between us. "You saw what happened tonight,
right?" When Elena reached out to touch my arm, I instinctively crossed my arms, creating a barrier that made her pull back. "I mean, do you really understand why we can't be together? You see it, don't you?"
"Yeah, I'm starting to see many things, Stefan." Her voice was soft, but the determination was there.
No, you don't; you still believe we can make this work.
"Come on, I'll give you a ride."
"Uh, I can get home,"
"I know,"
"All right. That would be nice,"