Lisa Smith - The Awakening

“I can’t let you go without one look at my grandfather’s headstone,” he said. “Aw, c’mon, Elena,” he said as she started to protest, “don’t hurt my feelings. You’ve got to see it; it’s the family pride and joy.”

Elena made herself smile, although her stomach felt like ice. Maybe if she humored him, he would get her out of here. “All right,” she said, and started toward the cemetery.

“Not that way. This way.” And the next moment, he was leading her down toward the old graveyard. “It’s okay, honest, it’s not far off the path. Look, there, you see?” He pointed to something that shone in the moonlight.

Elena gasped, muscles tightening around her heart. It looked like a person standing there, a giant with a round hairless head. And she didn’t like being here at all, among the worn and leaning granite stones of centuries past. The bright moonlight cast strange shadows, and there were pools of impenetrable darkness everywhere.

“It’s just the ball on top. Nothing to be scared of,” said Tyler, pulling her with him off the path and up to the shining headstone. It was made of red marble, and the huge ball that surmounted it reminded her of the bloated moon on the horizon. Now that same moon shone down on them, as white as Thomas Fell’s white hands. Elena couldn’t contain her shivering.

“Poor baby, she’s cold. Got to get her warned up,” said Tyler. Elena tried to push him away, but he was too strong, wrapping her in his arms, pulling her against him.

“Tyler, I want to go; I want to go right now . …”

“Sure, baby, we’ll go,” he said. “But we’ve got to get you warm first. Gosh, you’re cold.”

“ Tyler, stop ,” she said. His arms around her had merely been annoying, restricting, but now with a sense of shock she felt his hands on her body, groping for bare skin.

Never in her life had Elena been in a situation like this, far away from any help. She aimed a spiked heel for his patent-leather instep, but he evaded her. ” Tyler, take your hands off me .”

“C’mon, Elena, don’t be like that, I just want to warm you up all over…”

“Tyler, let go,” she choked out. She tried to wrench herself away from him. Tyler stumbled, and then his full weight was on her, crushing her into the tangle of ivy and weeds on the ground. Elena spoke desperately. “I’ll kill you, Tyler. I mean it. Get off me .”

Tyler tried to roll off, giggling suddenly, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, almost useless. “Aw, c’mon, Elena, don’ be mad. I was jus’ warmin’ you up. Elena the Ice Princess, warmin’ up… You’re gettin’ warm now, aren’ you?” Then Elena felt his mouth hot and wet on her face. She was still pinned beneath him, and his sloppy kisses were moving down her throat. She heard cloth tear.

“Oops,” Tyler mumbled. “Sorry ’bout that.”

Elena twisted her head, and her mouth met Tyler’s hand, clumsily caressing her cheek. She bit it, sinking her teeth into the fleshy palm. She bit hard , tasting blood, hearing Tyler’s agonized yowl. The hand jerked away.

“Hey! I said I was sorry!” Tyler looked aggrievedly at his maimed hand. Then his face darkened, as, still staring at it, he clenched the hand into a fist.

This is it, Elena thought with nightmare calmness. He’s either going to knock me out or kill me. She braced herself for the blow.

Stefan had resisted coming into the cemetery; everything within him had cried out against it. The last time he’d been here had been the night of the old man.

Horror shifted through his gut again at the memory. He would have sworn that he had not drained the man under the bridge, that he had not taken enough blood to do harm. But everything that night after the surge of Power was muddled, confused. If there had been a surge of Power at all. Perhaps that had been his own imagination, or even his own doing. Strange things could happen when the need got out of control.

He shut his eyes. When he’d heard that the old man was hospitalized, near death, his shock had been beyond words. How could he have let himself get so far out of hand? To kill, almost, when he had not killed since…

He wouldn’t let himself think about that.

Now, standing in front of the cemetery gate in the midnight darkness, he wanted nothing so much as to turn around and go away. Go back to the dance where he’d left Caroline, that supple, sun-bronzed creature who was absolutely safe because she meant absolutely nothing to him.

But he couldn’t go back, because Elena was in the cemetery. He could sense her, and sense her rising distress. Elena was in the cemetery and in trouble, and he had to find her.

He was halfway up the hill when the dizziness hit. It sent him reeling, struggling on toward the church because it was the only thing he could keep in focus. Gray waves of fog swept through his brain, and he fought to keep moving. Weak, he felt so weak. And helpless against the sheer power of this vertigo.

He needed… to go to Elena. But he was weak. He couldn’t be… weak… if he were to help Elena. He needed… to…

The church door yawned before him.

Elena saw the moon over Tyler’s left shoulder. It was strangely fitting that it would be the last thing she ever saw, she thought. The scream had caught in her throat, choked off by fear.

And then something picked Tyler up and threw him against his grandfather’s headstone.

That was what it looked like to Elena. She rolled to the side, gasping, one hand clutching her torn dress, the other groping for a weapon.

She didn’t need one. Something moved in the darkness, and she saw the person who had plucked Tyler off her. Stefan Salvatore. But it was a Stefan she had never seen before: that fine-featured face was white and cold with fury, and there was a killing light in those green eyes. Without even moving, Stefan emanated such anger and menace that Elena found herself more frightened of him than she had been of Tyler.

“When I first met you, I knew you’d never learned any manners,” said Stefan. His voice was soft and cold and light, and somehow it made Elena dizzy. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he moved toward Tyler, who was shaking his head dazedly and starting to get up. Stefan moved like a dancer, every movement easy and precisely controlled. “But I had no idea that your character was quite so underdeveloped.”

He hit Tyler. The larger boy had been reaching out one beefy hand, and Stefan hit him almost negligently on the side of the face, before the hand made contact.

Tyler flew against another headstone. He scrambled up and stood panting, his eyes showing white. Elena saw a trickle of blood from his nose. Then he charged.

“A gentleman doesn’t force his company on anyone,” said Stefan, and knocked him aside. Tyler went sprawling again, facedown in the weeds and briars. This time he was slower in getting up, and blood flowed from both nostrils and from his mouth. He was blowing like a frightened horse as he threw himself at Stefan.

Stefan grabbed the front of Tyler’s jacket, whirling them both around and absorbing the impact of the murderous rush. He shook Tyler twice, hard, while those big beefy fists windmilled around him, unable to connect. Then he let Tyler drop.

“He doesn’t insult a woman,” he said. Tyler’s face was contorted, his eyes rolling, but he grabbed for Stefan’s leg. Stefan jerked him to his feet and shook him again, and Tyler went limp as a rag doll, his eyes rolling up. Stefan went on speaking, holding the heavy body upright and punctuating every word with a bone-wrenching shake. “And, above all, he does not hurt her…”

“Stefan!” Elena cried. Tyler’s head was snapping back and forth with every shake. She was frightened of what she was seeing; frightened of what Stefan might do. And frightened above all else of Stefan’s voice, that cold voice that was like a rapier dancing, beautiful and deadly and utterly merciless. “Stefan, stop .”