One night's sleep wasn't enough for her mind to stop reeling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the thin line of blood on the man's outstretched hand, the silent offering. Never once had she thought about immortality for herself, and the way he'd offered it like it was nothing made her feel cold. She'd never imagined an ordinary life for herself. No traditional marriage with a man who sought to own her. No, she wanted the extraordinary, love, passion, travel, knowledge. But to become a monster, like the one who'd killed Lithander and Matthews? No.
Going about her every day felt even more difficult than before. How was she supposed to make coffee, prepare breakfast, and relax on the couching knowing what she knew? Knowing that somewhere out there, Arthur Harmon was still alive. That he, alone, had created vampires? Her hands ached from all the writing she'd been doing, but she couldn't help but dig out her journal once more.
Sitting at the dining table with a mug of lukewarm coffee, she wrote down everything she knew. She wrote about Arthur's creation, his accidental creation of vampires. She wrote about Celeste and her death, the smoke and mirrors surrounding her birth. She wrote about Arthur 'M', she wrote about magic. She wrote with a pressure that made the pen break through the page, and only then did she stop writing.
The lukewarm coffee went down the drain and she laced up her shoes, placed her cap on over the pinned up braids, and headed to Harmon College. It was a short walk, but there was still plenty of time to get lost in her own head. She longed for the days at the beginning of Fall the previous year, when all she wanted was to argue with Damon Salvatore about Orpheus and Eurydice, to correct him when he got her favorite myths wrong.
And now… now, what? She had to admit that perhaps he'd been right all along? That maybe, just maybe, Harmon's Great Minds was a dangerous place, a place that she shouldn't have gone? Or was the information she'd learned worth the danger she'd experienced? And even worse so, what would the man have to say if she turned down his offer? He didn't need her, did he? She was just a regular person with no experience nor desire to see anyone killed. Not even Harmon.
With her journal tucked tightly under her arm, she walked until she reached Dr. Bartlow's office. With many questions unanswered, she figured the source of all of this would be her best bet. Taking a deep breath outside the door, she rapped her knuckles against the wood three times.
It didn't take long for him to come to the door, hunched over with a colorful sweater draped over his shoulders. There was a glint in his eye, a touch of excitement at seeing her outside his office door, like he'd expected it.
"Come in, have a seat," he said before she could even say hello. He held the door open for her, then closed it behind. "Something I can help you with, Mr. Gilbert?"
She held her journal tight with both hands like she'd fall under without it and drown. It already felt as if the water was closing in over her head, the light barely shining through. And even worse, there was no one around to watch her fall. No one to see her slip, slip, slip. Not even Damon.
"I had a few questions I wanted to ask you. About Harmon's Great Minds," she said, cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction as she spoke.
"Ah, yes," he said, a small smile appearing on his lips. "They wanted one addition, and you gave them two."
"I tend to be quite competitive," she joked, feeling more comfortable already. "Besides, losing to Salvatore is my worst nightmare." Which was really saying something, considering the nightmares she'd been having recently.
He chuckled at this. "You two have been at odds since you stepped into my classroom that very first day."
"I don't like to be told that there is something I cannot do."
"Is that right?" Dr. Bartlow stood up, faced the back wall of his office for a moment as if pondering something deep and meaningful. He spoke gently, "I knew your father, you know."
Her lips parted in a gasp.
"Rotten old man. But used to host the best parties." He picked up a framed photograph off the shelf and turned around, handing it to Elena. Sure enough, it was a shot of Dr. Bartlow and her father, maybe ten years in the past. "He had this daughter. An incredibly bright girl, she could recite Homer with the best of them." He didn't look at Elena, just stared off into the distance behind her. "He did not treat her kindly, as I recall. And then your application crossed my desk. So many years later."
"How long have you known?" she asked, looking at her hands with bright cheeks.
He placed a hand atop hers and offered perhaps the kindest smile she'd ever received. "Since that first day. Maybe even since your application. I met your brother, too. He didn't seem the type. Not interested in the discussions you were having years his junior."
She found it immensely difficult to meet his eyes, knowing that he knew her big, grand secret. And even worse, that he'd admitted her to the program because, what, he'd known her father? Had she deserved any of the accomplishments she'd made?
"Ah, don't worry, kid. I like you. You've got passion. Something a lot of the men in this program are lacking," he said, attempting to catch her eyes. "Besides, even if I had read your essay not knowing you were a Gilbert, I would have wanted you in my class. You are good at what you do."
The heaviest weight lifted off her shoulders with a loud exhale. "Thank you."
"All that to say that you are right, Elena. There isn't anything you can't do." Another warm smile and more weight off her shoulders. "What was it you wanted to ask?"
The change of topic felt abrupt, but despite the relief she felt in knowing that another person saw her, knew her, and didn't care, there were still many things that continued to weigh on her. "I've been to two meetings now," she started. "From what I've learned this whole scavenger hunt that you sent Mr. Salvatore on, it's not how things are usually done. And I suppose I'm just curious how you came into possession of the first clue."
"Ah, an interesting story," he said, but didn't elaborate.
Elena rose an eyebrow at her teacher. "I assumed it would be. Could you tell it?"
"And ruin the mystery for you?" he said with a smirk, daring and dangerous in a way she hadn't seen him before. Like he might have been the kind of person to go toe to toe with her in an argument when he was younger. "I will tell you something else, though. Though, I don't think it's something you want to hear."
"Then you don't have to say it," Elena said. There were too many things kicking around in her brain lately, too many things she'd wanted to know originally only to find out they were like poison destroying something inside of her, driving her to a madness she didn't understand, a madness that sought to learn more and more until she reached the end of the line, the end of the mystery and decided whether or not it was all worth it.
"Smart girl," Dr. Bartlow said and she grimaced at the word. It still felt strange to have someone so vital to her scheme address her as she was.
Elena stood up from the chair and made toward the door, turning back to glance at him once more before pulling it open. "Thanks," she said simply before stepping out of the office with even more of a headache than before, and still, no questions answered. Except for the fact that there was, actually, a reason for the singular clue. She just needed to figure out what it was and why the society was lying about it.
With so much on her mind, she went to the one place where it was easy to clear her head. The town library had been nice, but it didn't offer nearly as much comfort as the school's. At the Harmon College library, she had an entire room to herself. A small nook in the back of the third floor that no one else ever seemed to frequent. She had a comfortable settee to curl up on, a mahogany desk to work at, and walls lined with bookshelves, with books she'd likely never read. But she could easily haul up whatever stack of books she was working on, and even if she left it in the corner, no one ever noticed or cared enough to move it.
Nose deep in a book, she didn't notice the vampire come in. He moved fast and quiet, a predator. When he cleared his throat, she jumped, slamming the book shut and whipping around in one fluid motion. A hand came to her mouth as she gasped, her eyes finding his from only inches away. He'd never looked at her like this before, with such a sharp glance, full of anger and maybe something else she couldn't quite place.
His eyes flicked down to the book in her hand, thumb holding her place, then back up to her eyes, searching for something in them—recognition? But she still hadn't made the connection, hadn't crossed her Ts and dotted her Is, hadn't checked off the box vampire next to his name just yet. So she only looked at him, a sliver of fear showing in those brown doe eyes, slightly widened as she took a step back, her heel colliding with the bookshelf.
"What's going on, Salvatore?" she asked, trying to create space between the two of them. But when she moved back, he moved forward, and in no time at all he had her caged between his arms, one on each side of her.
He didn't answer, only tilted his head to the side, further examining her. "I should ask you the same question. What happened last night?" he said, moving one hand to the book she gripped so tight. His hand covered hers and the shock of his touch went through her like lightning. He pushed off the bookshelf and took a few steps away, pacing as he read from the book.
"Dr. Harmon: created vampires by accident in his quest for immortality. A brother who wants him dead." Damon let out a loud chuckle, overly performative, as he tossed her journal onto the nearby desk. "Is that what you were off learning at the last meeting? You are asking to get hurt with this research. I have warned you since the beginning." He scowled, a visible grit to his teeth, working his jaw as he tried to find the right words to belittle her.
Her arms wrapped around her midsection, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach as he spat at her so venomously. "I don't understand," she said, finally. The words pained her, but she couldn't find an excuse for his behavior. Never once had she been able to put two and two together when it came to him. Why was he so angry with her specifically? "You said, months ago, that I wouldn't understand and I don't. I still don't, so can you just tell me what's going on? For once, please, could you just be honest with me?"
The vampire's fist collided heavily with the desk, so hard it splintered. "I thought you knew everything," he said, missing the playful tone of their usual exchanges, only something dark and twisted left behind, an anger at her for pushing too hard, for getting involved, for craving a knowledge that was continuously held above her head.
"I—I don't. I don't know everything. That's the problem," Elena said, twisting her hands together, trying to keep them occupied, shifting from foot to foot, feeling more than uncomfortable under his gaze and this new tone of voice he'd chosen to take with her. "I know… a lot," she amended, wincing. "More than I did. But I still don't understand this," she motioned between them. "You. Why I'm in danger."
She looked away and he was in front of her again in an instant. Her brain swam, confused and overwhelmed, and then he was looking at her again with those clear blue eyes and that gaze that made it seem like he could devour her completely. Like Stefan had looked at her in her nightmares.
One arm gripped one of the shelves behind her and he leaned, all of his weight making the shelf creek. His face was so close to hers and even just breathing felt like an impossibility. As if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room in that moment. And there was nowhere else to look, no books she could focus on, no other place to put her eyes, except his.
He leaned forward even more, his lips so close to her ear she could feel his breath. "You know what I think?" he whispered.
"Damon, I—" she started, but he didn't give her time to finish.
He lifted his other hand, letting it slowly caress her cheek as she shivered under his touch. His knuckles were rough against her smooth, now flushed skin. "I think you're in over your head." His fingers slowly moved down to her neck, slipped under her hat, pulled down her messy braid, and twisted it between his thumb and forefinger.
The touch felt criminal. Slow and painful and yet, something else too. And when he touched her hair her breathing stopped, and it took her a moment to realize what was going on, to realize what he had done, what he was doing.
The next moments slowed and seemed to last an eternity. His eyes flicked up from the long hair in his grasp and met hers. Then, her lips parted in a gasp, and her chest heaved with ragged, slow breaths. His lips were so close to hers, so close that she could think of nothing else other than what it might feel like to kiss him. And she wished she could push those thoughts so far out of her mind, but she could not. Not with him so close. Not with the dreams that had ruined her completely, not with everything Caroline had said, not with how her thoughts twisted when he looked at her these days.
Then, time slammed forward again in rapid motion. He dropped her braid and was across the room in a second flat. Her sharp inhales left her feeling even more lightheaded, and she felt as if she could pass out at any moment. All the air rushed back into her body, and she was left trying desperately to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered closed and when they opened again, he was gone.
She tucked the braid back up under her cap, straightened her button up shirt, brushed off her jacket and collapsed onto the settee. It had been comfortable only minutes ago, but now she couldn't figure out how to hold her body, how to think, how to do anything without shaking. Damon Salvatore knew her secret, and she knew his.
A/N: I have been absolutely fiending to post this chapter specifically. Let me know what you think in the reviews! Only one more chapter left before the end of Act II. There will be three acts total, so after this we'll be getting into the final part of the story! Looking forward to it, and thanks again for all your kind reviews. They mean so much to me!