Lisa Smith: The Struggle

Elena. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, he was aware of her more than of anything else in the room. Her living presence beat against his skin like sunlight against closed eyelids. When he actually let himself turn to face her, it was a sweet shock to all his senses.

He loved her so much. He never saw her as Katherine any more; he had almost forgotten how much she looked like the dead girl. In any case, there were so many differences. Elena had the same pale gold hair and creamy skin, the same delicate features as Katherine, but there the resemblance ended. Her eyes, looking violet in the firelight just now but normally a blue as dark as lapis lazuli, were neither timid nor childlike as Katherine’s had been. On the contrary, they were windows to her soul, which shone like an eager flame behind them. Elena was Elena, and her image had replaced Katherine’s gentle ghost in his heart.

But her very strength made their love dangerous. He hadn’t been able to resist her last week when she’d offered him her blood. Granted, he might have died without it, but it had been far too soon for Elena’s own safety. For the hundredth time, his eyes moved over Elena’s face, searching for the telltale signs of change. Was that creamy skin a little paler? Was her expression slightly more remote?

They would have to be careful from now on. He would have to be more careful. Make sure to feed often, satisfy himself with animals, so he wouldn’t be tempted. Never let the need get too strong. Now that he thought of it, he was hungry right now. The dry ache, the burning, was spreading along his upper jaw, whispering through his veins and capillaries. He should be out in the woods—senses alert to catch the slightest crackle of dry twigs, muscles ready for the chase—not here by a fire watching the tracery of pale blue veins in Elena’s throat.

That slim throat turned as Elena looked at him.

“Do you want to go to that party tonight? We can take Aunt Judith’s car,” she said.

“But you ought to stay for dinner first,” said Aunt Judith quickly.

“We can pick up something on the way.” Elena meant they could pick up something for her, Stefan thought. He himself could chew and swallow ordinary food if he had to, though it did him no good, and he had long since lost any taste for it. No, his… appetites… were more particular now, he thought. And if they went to this party, it would mean hours more before he could feed. But he nodded agreement to Elena.

“If you want to,” he said.

She did want to; she was set on it. He’d seen that from the beginning. “All right then, I’d better change.”

He followed her to the base of the stairway. “Wear something with a high neck. A sweater,” he told her in a voice too low to carry.

She glanced through the doorway, to the empty living room, and said, “It’s all right. They’re almost healed already. See?” She tugged her lacy collar down, twisting her head to one side.

Stefan stared, mesmerized, at the two round marks on the fine-grained skin. They were a very light, translucent burgundy color, like much-watered wine. He set his teeth and forced his eyes away. Looking much longer at that would drive him crazy.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said brusquely.

The shining veil of her hair fell over the marks again, hiding them. “Oh.”

“Come in!”

As they did, walking into the room, conversations stopped. Elena looked at the faces turned toward them, at the curious, furtive eyes and the wary expressions. Not the kind of looks she was used to getting when she made an entrance.

It was another student who’d opened the door for them; Alaric Saltzman was nowhere in sight. But Caroline was, seated on a bar stool, which showed off her legs to their best advantage. She gave Elena a mocking look and then made some remark to a boy on her right. He laughed.

Elena could feel her smile start to go painful, while a flush crept up toward her face. Then a familiar voice came to her.

“Elena, Stefan! Over here.”

Gratefully, she spotted Bonnie sitting with Meredith and Ed Goff on a loveseat in the corner. She and Stefan settled on a large ottoman opposite them, and she heard conversations start to pick up again around the room.

By tacit agreement, no one mentioned the awkwardness of Elena and Stefan’s arrival. Elena was determined to pretend that everything was as usual.

And Bonnie and Meredith were backing her. “You look great,” said Bonnie warmly. “I just love that red sweater.”

“She does look nice. Doesn’t she, Ed?” said Meredith, and Ed, looking vaguely startled, agreed.

“So your class was invited to this, too,” Elena said to Meredith. “I thought maybe it was just seventh period.”

“I don’t know if invited is the word.” replied Meredith dryly. “Considering that participation is half our grade.”

“Do you think he was serious about that? He couldn’t be serious,” put in Ed.

Elena shrugged. “He sounded serious to me. Where’s Ray?” she asked Bonnie.

“Ray? Oh, Ray. I don’t know, around somewhere, I suppose. There’s a lot of people here.”

That was true. The Ramsey living room was packed, and from what Elena could see the crowd flowed into the dining room, the front parlor, and probably the kitchen as well. Elbows kept brushing Elena’s hair as people circulated behind her.

“What did Saltzman want with you after class?” Stefan was saying.

“Alaric,” Bonnie corrected primly. “He wants us to call him Alaric. Oh, he was just being nice. He felt awful for making me relive such an agonizing experience. He didn’t know exactly how Mr. Tanner died, and he hadn’t realized I was so sensitive. Of course, he’s incredibly sensitive himself, so he understands what it’s like. He’s an Aquarius.”

“With a moon rising in pickup lines,” said Meredith under her breath. “Bonnie you don’t believe that garbage, do you? He’s a teacher; he shouldn’t be trying that out on students.”

“He wasn’t trying anything out! He said exactly the same thing to Tyler and Sue Carson. He said we should form a support group for each other or write an essay about that night to get our feelings out. He said teenagers are all very impressionable and he didn’t want the tragedy to have a lasting impact on our lives.”

“Oh, brother,” said Ed, and Stefan turned a laugh into a cough. He wasn’t amused, though, and his question to Bonnie hadn’t been just idle curiosity. Elena could tell; she could feel it radiating from him. Stefan felt about Alaric Saltzman the way that most of the people in this room felt about Stefan. Wary and mistrustful.

“It was strange, him acting as if the party was a spontaneous idea in our class,” she said, responding unconsciously to Stefan’s unspoken words, “when obviously it had been planned.”

“What’s even stranger is the idea that the school would hire a teacher without telling him how the previous teacher died,” said Stefan. “Everyone was talking about it; it must have been in the papers.”

“But not all the details,” said Bonnie firmly. “In fact, there are things the police still haven’t let out, because they think it might help them catch the killer. For instance,” she dropped her voice, “do you know what Mary said? Dr. Feinberg was talking to the guy who did the autopsy, the medical examiner. And he said that there was no blood left in the body at all. Not a drop.”

Elena felt an icy wind blow through her, as if she stood once again in the graveyard. She couldn’t speak. But Ed said, “Where’d it go?”

“Well, all over the floor, I suppose,” said Bonnie calmly. “All over the altar and everything. That’s what the police are investigating now. But it’s unusual for a corpse not to have any blood left; usually there’s some that settles down on the underside of the body. Postmortem lividity, it’s called. It looks like big purple bruises. What’s wrong?”