L. Smith - Moonsong

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Bonnie said happily, gazing up at the half moon overhead.

“Yeah,” Zander said, swinging her hand between them.

“You know, I used to go on long walks—runs, real y—with my dad at night. Way out in the country, in the moonlight. I love being outside at night.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Bonnie said. “Do you guys stil do that when you’re home?”

“No.” Zander hesitated and hunched his shoulders, his hair hanging in his face. Bonnie couldn’t read his expression. “My dad … he died. A while ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bonnie said sincerely, squeezing his hand.

“I’m okay,” Zander said, stil staring at his shoes. “But, y’know, I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and the guys have sort of become like a family to me. I know they can be a pain sometimes, but they’re real y good guys. And they’re important to me.” He glanced at Bonnie out of the corner of his eyes.

He looked so apprehensive, Bonnie felt a sharp pang of affection for him. It was sweet that Zander and his friends were so close—that must have been the family stuff he had to deal with the other night. He was loyal, that much she knew. “Zander,” she said. “I know they’re important to you. I don’t want to take you away from your friends, you goof.” She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Maybe just for an hour or two sometimes, but not for long, I promise.” Zander returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and Bonnie tingled al the way down to her toes.

Clinging to each other, they made their way to a bench by the side of the path and sat down to kiss some more.

Zander just felt so good under her hands, al sleek muscles and smooth skin, and Bonnie ran her hands across his shoulders, along his arms, down his sides.

At her touch, Zander suddenly winced.

“What’s the matter?” she said, lifting her head away from his.

“Nothing,” said Zander, reaching for her. “I was just messing around with the guys, you know. They play rough.”

“Let me see,” Bonnie said, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, half concerned and half wanting to just check out Zander’s abs. He had turned out to be surprisingly modest, considering they were sharing a room.

Wincing again, he sucked his breath in through his teeth as Bonnie lifted his shirt. She gasped. Zander’s whole side was covered with ugly black-and-purple bruises.

“Zander,” Bonnie said horrified, “these look real y bad.

You don’t get bruises like that just messing around.” They look like you were fighting for your life—or someone else was, she thought, and pushed away the words.

“They’re nothing. Don’t worry,” Zander said, tugging his shirt back down. He started to wrap his arms around her again, but Bonnie moved away, feeling vaguely sickened.

“I wish you’d tel me what happened,” she said.

“I did,” Zander said comfortingly. “You know how crazy those guys get.”

It was true, she’d never known guys so rowdy. Zander reached for her again, and this time Bonnie moved closer to him, turning her face up for his kiss. As their lips met, she remembered Zander’s saying to her, “You know me. You see me.”

She did know him, Bonnie told herself. She could trust Zander.

Across the street, Damon stood in the shadow of a tree, watching Bonnie kiss Zander.

He had to admit he felt a little pang, seeing her in the arms of someone else. There was something so sweet about Bonnie, and she was brave and intel igent under that cotton-candy exterior. The witchy angle added a little touch of spice to her, too. He’d always thought of her as his.

Then again, didn’t the little redbird deserve someone of her own? As much as Damon liked her, he didn’t love her, he knew that. Seeing the lanky boy’s face light up in response to her smile, he thought maybe this one would.

After making out for a few more minutes, Bonnie and Zander stood up and wandered, hand in hand, toward what Damon knew was Zander’s dorm. Damon trailed them, keeping to the shadows.

He huffed out a breath of self-mocking laughter. I’m getting soft in my old age, he thought. Back in the old days he would have eaten Bonnie without a second thought, and here he was worrying about her love life.

Stil , it would be nice if the little redhead could be happy.

If her boyfriend wasn’t a threat.

Damon ful y expected the happy couple to disappear into the dorm together. Instead, Zander kissed Bonnie good-bye and watched as she went inside, then headed back out. Damon fol owed him, keeping hidden, as he went back to the party where they’d been before. A few minutes later, Zander came down again, trailed by his pack of noisy boys.

Damon twitched in irritation. God save me from college boys, he thought. They were probably going to gorge themselves on greasy bar food. After a couple of days of watching Zander, he was ready to go back to Elena and report that the boy was guilty of nothing more than being uncouth.

Instead of heading toward the nearest bar, though, the boys jogged across campus, quick and determined, as if they had an important destination in mind. Reaching the edge of campus, they headed into the woods.

Damon gave them a few seconds and then fol owed.

He was good at this, he was a predator, a natural hunter, and so it took him a few minutes of listening, of sending his Power out, of final y just racing through the woods, black branches snapping before him, to realize that Zander and his boys were gone.

Final y, Damon stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The woods were silent except for the innocent sound of various woodland creatures going about their business and his own ragged panting. That pack of noisy, obnoxious children had escaped him, disappearing without the slightest trace. He gritted his teeth and tamped down his anger at being evaded, until it was mostly curiosity about how they’d done it.

Poor Bonnie, Damon thought as he fastidiously smoothed and adjusted his clothing. One thing was abundantly clear: Zander and his friends weren’t entirely human.

Stefan twitched. This was al just kind of strange.

He was sitting in a velvet-backed chair in a huge underground room, as col ege students roamed around arranging flowers and candles. The room was impressive, Stefan would give them that: cavernous yet elegant. But the little arrangements of flowers seemed chintzy and false somehow, like a stage set in the Vatican. And the black-masked figures lurking in the back of the room, watching, were giving him the jitters.

Matt had cal ed him to tel him about some kind of col ege secret society that he’d joined, and that the leader wanted Stefan to join, too. Stefan agreed to meet him and talk about it. He never was much of a joiner, but he liked Matt, and it was something to do.

It would take his mind off Elena, he’d thought. Lurking around campus—and it felt like lurking, when he saw Elena, with the way his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her even as he hurried out of sight—he’d watched her. Sometimes she was with Damon. Stefan’s fingernails bit into his palms.

Consciously relaxing, he turned his attention back to Ethan, who was sitting across a smal table from him.

“The members of the Vitale Society hold a very special place in the world,” he was saying, leaning forward, smiling.

“Only the best of the best can hope to be tapped, and the qualities we look for I think are very wel exemplified in you, Stefan.”

Stefan nodded politely and let his mind drift again.

Secret societies were something he actual y knew a little about. Sir Walter Raleigh’s School of Night in Elizabethan England wrestled with what was then forbidden knowledge: science and philosophy the church declared out of bounds.