The Vampire Diaries_THE HUNTERS VOL#2 MOONSONG

35

Initiation night for the newest members of the Vitale Society had arrived at last. The cavernous room was lit only by golden candlelight from long tapers placed around the space and by the fire of high-flaming torches against the walls. In the flickering light, the animals carved in the wood of the pillars and arches almost seemed to be moving. Matt, dressed in a dark hooded robe like the other initiates, gazed around proudly. They’d worked hard, and the room looked amazing.

At the front of the room, beneath the highest arch, a long table had been placed, draped in a heavy red satin cloth and looking like some kind of altar. In the center of the table sat a huge deep stone bowl, almost like a baptismal font, and around it roses and orchids were set. More flowers had been scattered on the floor, and the scent of the crushed blossoms underfoot was so strong that it was dizzying. The pledges were lined up, evenly spaced, before the altar.
As if she’d picked up on his pride at how everything had turned out, Chloe pushed her dark hood back a bit and leaned toward him to mutter, “Pretty fabulous, huh?” Matt smiled at her. So what if she was dating someone else? He still liked her. He wanted to stay friends, even if that was all

there could be between them.

He tugged at his robe self-consciously; the fabric was heavy, and he didn’t like the way it blocked his peripheral vision.

The current masked members of the Vitale Society wove silently among the pledges, handing out goblets full of some kind of liquid. Matt sniffed his and smelled ginger and chamomile as well as less familiar scents: so this was where the herbs had been used.

He smiled at the girl who gave it to him, but got no response. Her eyes behind the mask slid over him neutrally, and she moved on. Once he was a full member of the Vitale Society, he would know who these current members were, would see them without their masks. He sipped from his goblet and grimaced: it tasted strange and bitter.
The soft rustlings of cloaked figures moving across the floor were silenced as the last of the goblets was handed out and the masked Vitales quietly retreated under the arch behind the altar to watch. Ethan stepped forward, up to the altar, and pushed back his hood.

“Welcome,” he said, holding out his hands to the assembled pledges. “Welcome to true power at last.” The candlelight flickered over his face, twisting it into something unfamiliar and almost sinister. Matt twitched nervously and took another swallow of the bitter herbal mixture.
“A toast!” Ethan called. He raised his own goblet, and before him, the pledges raised theirs. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “To moving beyond the veil and discovering the truth.”

Matt raised his goblet and drained it with the other pledges. The mixture left a gritty feeling on his tongue, and he scraped it absently against his teeth.

Ethan looked around at the pledges and smiled, locking gazes with one after another. “You’ve all worked so hard,” he said affectionately. “Each of you has reached his or her personal peak of intelligence, strength, and leadership ability now. Together, you are a force to be reckoned with. You have been perfected.”

Matt managed to politely restrain himself from rolling his eyes. It was nice to be praised, of course, but sometimes Ethan was a little too over the top: perfected? Matt doubted it was even possible. It seemed to him that you could always strive to be a little more, or a little less, something. You could always wish to be better. But even if he could, after all, be perfected, he suspected that it would take more than a few obstacle courses and group problem-solving exercises to do it.

“And now it is time to at last discover your purpose,” Ethan continued. “Time to complete the final stage in your transformation from ordinary students into true avatars of power.” He took a clean and shining silver cup from the altar and dipped it into the deep stone bowl in front of him. “With every step forward in evolution, there must be some sacrifice. I regret any pain this will cause you. Be comforted by the knowledge that all suffering is temporary. Anna, step forward.”

There was a slight uneasy stirring among the pledges. This talk of suffering and sacrifice was different than

Ethan’s usual emphasis on honor and power. Matt frowned. Something was wrong here.

But Anna, looking tiny in her long robe, walked without hesitation up to the altar and pushed back her hood.
“Drink of me,” Ethan said, handing her the silver cup. Anna blinked uncertainly and then, her eyes on Ethan, tipped back her head and drained the cup. As she handed it back to Ethan, she licked her lips automatically, and Matt tried to peer more closely at her. In the flickering candlelight, her lips looked unnaturally red and slick.
Then Ethan led her around the side of the altar and into his arms. He smiled, and his face twisted, his eyes dilating and his lips pulling back in a snarl. His teeth looked so long, so sharp. Matt tried to shout a warning but realized with horror that he couldn’t move his lips, couldn’t draw the breath to call out.

He knew, suddenly, that he had been a fool. Ethan sank his fangs deep into Anna’s neck. Matt
strained, trying to run toward them, to attack Ethan and throw him away from Anna. But he couldn’t move at all. He must be under some kind of compulsion. Or perhaps something in the drink, some magic ingredient, had made them all docile and still. He watched helplessly as Anna struggled for a few moments, then went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Unceremoniously, Ethan let her body drop to the ground. “Don’t be afraid,” he said kindly, gazing around at the horrified, frozen pledges. “All of us”—he gestured toward the silent, masked Vitale behind him—“went through

this initiation recently. You must brace yourself to suffer what is only a small, temporary death, and then you will be one of us, a true Vitale. Never growing old, never dying. Powerful forever.”

Sharp white teeth and golden eyes shining in the candlelight, Ethan reached out toward the next pledge as Matt struggled again to shout, to fight. Ethan continued, “Stuart, step forward.”

smelled so good, rich and sweet like an exotic ripe fruit. Damon wanted to simply bury his head in the soft skin at the crook of her neck and just inhale her for a decade or two. Snaking his arm through hers, he pulled her closer.
“You can’t come in with me,” she told him for the second time. “I might be able to get James to talk to me because it’s a question about my parents, but I don’t think he’ll tell me anything if someone else is there. Whatever the truth is about the Vitale Society and my parents, I think he’s embarrassed about it. Or afraid, or … something.” Without paying attention to what she was doing, Elena shifted her grip and held on to Damon’s arm more firmly.
“Fine,” Damon said stubbornly. “I’ll wait outside. I won’t let him see me. But you’re not to walk across campus at night by yourself. It’s not safe.”

“Yes, Damon,” Elena said in a convincing imitation of meekness, and rested her head on his shoulder. The lemony scent of her shampoo mixed with the more essential Elena smell of her. Damon sighed with

contentment.

She cared for him, he knew that, and Stefan had taken himself out of the picture. She was still young, his princess, and a human heart could heal. Maybe, with Stefan gone, she would finally see how much closer she was, mind and soul, to Damon, how perfectly they fit together.
In any case, she was his for now. He lifted his free hand and stroked her head, her silky hair pliant beneath his fingers, and smiled.

The professor’s house was barely off campus, just across the street from the gilded entrance gates. They’d almost reached the edge of campus when a familiar presence that had been lurking nearby at last came very close.

Damon wheeled to scan the shadows, pulling Elena with him.

“What is it?” Elena said, alarmed.

Come out, Damon thought with exasperation, sending his silent message toward the thickest shadows at the base of a crowd of oak trees. You know you can’t hide from me.

One dark shadow detached itself from the rest, stepping forward on the path. Stefan simply gazed at the ground, shoulders slumped, his hands loose and open by his sides. Elena gasped, a small hurt sound.
Stefan looked terrible, Damon thought, not without sympathy. His face seemed hollow and strained, his cheekbones more prominent than usual, and Damon would have bet that he wasn’t feeding properly. Damon felt a

twinge of disquiet. He didn’t take pleasure in causing his brother pain. Not anymore.

“Well?” Damon said, raising his eyebrows. Stefan glanced up at him. I don’t want to fight with you,
Damon, he said silently.

So don’t, Damon shot back at him, and Stefan’s mouth twitched in a half smile of acknowledgment.
“Stefan,” Elena said suddenly, sounding like the word had been jerked out of her. “Please, Stefan.”
Stefan stared down at the path under his feet, not meeting her eyes. “I sensed you were nearby, Elena, and I felt your anxiety,” he said wearily. “I thought you might have been in trouble. I’m sorry, I was mistaken. I shouldn’t have come.”

Elena stiffened, and her long dark lashes fell over her eyes, hiding, Damon was almost sure, the beginnings of tears.

A long silence stretched between them. Finally, irritated by the tension, Damon made an effort to ease it. “So,” he said casually, “we broke into the campus security office last night.”

Stefan looked up with a flicker of interest. “Oh? Did you find anything useful?”

“Crime scene photos, but they weren’t very helpful,” Damon said, shrugging. “The folders were marked with black Vs, so we’re trying to figure out what that means. Elena’s going to talk to her professor about the Vitale Society, see if it could have anything to do with them.”
“The… Vitale Society?” Stefan said hesitantly.

Damon waved a hand dismissively. “A secret society from back in the day when Elena’s parents were here,” he said. “Who knows? It may be nothing.”

Drawing a hand across his face, Stefan seemed to be thinking hard. “Oh, no,” he muttered. Then, looking at Elena for the first time, he asked, “Where’s Matt?”

“Matt?” Elena echoed, startled out of her wistful contemplation of Stefan. “Um, I think he had some kind of meeting tonight. Football stuff, maybe?”

“I have to go,” Stefan said tightly, and was immediately gone. With his enhanced abilities, Damon could hear Stefan’s light footsteps racing away. But to Elena, he knew, Stefan had been nothing but a silently vanishing blur.
Elena turned to Damon, her face crumpling in what he recognized as a prelude to more tears. “Why would he follow me if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” she said, her voice hoarse with sorrow.

Damon gritted his teeth. He was trying hard to be patient, to wait for Elena to give him her heart, but she kept thinking of Stefan. “He told you,” he said, keeping his voice even. “He wants to make sure you’re safe, but he doesn’t want to be with you. But I do.” Firmly recapturing her arm with his, he tugged her lightly forward. “Shall we?”

36

When he opened his door and saw Elena, James’s face crumpled, just for a fraction of a second, and he stepped backward, as if he was considering closing the door in her face. Then he seemed to think better of it, and he opened it wider, his face creasing into its familiar smile.
“Why, Elena,” he said, “My dear, I hardly expected a visitor at this hour. I’m afraid this isn’t the best time.” He cleared his throat. “I’d be delighted to see you at school, during office hours. Mondays and Fridays, remember? Now, if you’ll excuse me.” And, still smiling gently, he shuffled forward and did try to close the door in her face.
But Elena swung her hand up and stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “James, I know you didn’t want to talk to me about the pins, but it’s important. I need to find out more about the Vitale Society.”

His bright black eyes glanced toward her and away, as if embarrassed. “Yes, well,” he said, “the problem is of course that unchaperoned solo visits from a student—any student, you understand, my dear, no reflection on you personally—to a professor’s home are, er, frowned upon. The wicked world we live in, you know,” and, with a soft chuckle, he pushed firmly against the door. “There are

times and places.”

Elena pushed back. “I don’t believe for a minute that you’re trying to make me go away because my visit is inappropriate,” she said flatly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. People are in danger, James.

“I know you and my parents were part of the Vitale Society,” Elena continued doggedly. “I need you to tell me whatever it is that you’ve been hiding about those days. I think the Vitale is tied to the murders and disappearances on campus, and we have to stop it. You’re my only lead at this point, James.” He hesitated, his eyes watering with emotion, and Elena fixed him with her gaze. “More people are going to die,” she said harshly, “but you might be able to save them. Will you?”

James visibly wavered and then seemed to give in all at once, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know if anything I can tell you will help. I don’t know anything about the murders. But you’d better come in,” he said, and led the way down the hall and through his house. The kitchen was shining clean, with spotless white surfaces. Copper pots, woven baskets, and cheery red dishcloths and towels hung from hooks and were arranged on top of cupboards. Framed prints of fruits and vegetables hung on the walls at intervals. James sat her down at the table, then busied himself with making her a cup of tea.

Elena waited patiently until he finally settled across from her, with cups of tea in front of them both. “Milk?” he asked fussily, handing her the jug, without meeting her eyes. “Sugar?”

“Thank you,” Elena said. Then she leaned across the table and placed her hand on his, keeping it there until he raised his eyes to look at her. “Tell me,” she said simply.
“I don’t know anything about the murders,” James said again. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have kept this secret if I thought anyone was in danger from it.”

Elena nodded. “I know you wouldn’t,” she said. “Even if there isn’t a connection, if the secret is about my parents, I deserve to know,” she told him.

James sighed, a long breathy sound. “This was all a long time ago, you understand,” he said. “We were young and a bit naive. The Vitale Society was a force for good, back then. We worshipped natural spirits and drew our energy from the sacred Earth. We were a positive force in the community, interested principally in love and peace and creativity. We served others. I hear that the Vitale Society has changed since those days, that darker elements have taken it over. But I don’t know much about them now. I haven’t been involved with the Vitale for years, not since the events I am about to recount to you.”

Elena sipped her tea and waited. James’s eyes flew to her face, almost shyly, then fixed back on the table. “One day,” he said slowly, “a strange man came to one of our secret meetings. He was—” James closed his eyes and shivered. “I had never seen a being of such pure power, or one who radiated such a feeling of peace and love. We, all of us, had no doubt that we were in the presence of an angel. He called himself a Guardian.” Involuntarily, Elena sucked a breath through her teeth, hissing. James’s eyes

snapped open, and he gave her a long look. “You know them?” At her nod, he shrugged a little. “Well, you can imagine how he affected us.”

“What did the Guardian want?” Elena asked, her stomach dropping. She had met Guardians, and she hadn’t liked them. It was Guardians who had, coldly and efficiently, refused to bring Damon back to life when he had died in the Dark Dimension. And it was Guardians who had caused the car accident that killed her parents in an attempt to kill Elena so that they could recruit her to their ranks. All the Guardians she’d met were female, though; she hadn’t even known there were male Guardians as well.
Elena knew that, lovely as the Guardians appeared to be, they were not angels, were not on the side of Good or, for that matter, the side of Evil. They just believed in Order. They could be very dangerous.

James looked at her briefly, then fiddled with the tea cup and napkin in front of him. “Would you like a scone?” he asked. She shook her head and stared at him, and he sighed again. “You have to understand that your parents were very young. Idealistic.”

Elena had the sinking feeling that she was going to find out something deeply unpleasant. “Go on,” she said.
Instead of continuing, though, James folded his napkin into tiny, precise squares, smaller and smaller, until Elena cleared her throat. Then he began again. “The Guardian told us that there was a need for a new kind of Guardian. One who would be a mortal, on Earth, and who would possess special powers that she would need to maintain

the balance between good and evil supernatural forces on Earth. Over the course of his visit, Elizabeth and Thomas, who were young and brilliant and good and deeply in love, and who had bright futures ahead of them, were chosen to be the parents of this mortal Guardian.”

He let the napkin unfold itself in his hands and looked at Elena meaningfully. It took her a moment to catch on.
“Me? Are you kidding? I’m not—” She shut her mouth. “I have enough problems,” she said flatly. She paused as something he said sank in. “Wait, why do you think my parents were being naive?” she asked sharply. “What did they do?”

James drank a swallow of tea. “Frankly, I think I need a little something in this before I continue,” he said. “I’ve kept this secret for a long time, and I still have to tell you the worst part.” He got up and rummaged around in one of the cupboards, eventually pulling out a small bottle full of amber liquid. He held it out to Elena questioningly, but she shook her head. She was pretty certain she would need her head clear for the rest of this conversation. He poured a generous amount into his own cup.

“So,” he said, sitting down again. Elena could tell that he was still anxious, but also that he was beginning to enjoy telling the story. He was a natural gossip—the way he taught history was as gossip about the past—and this was even more familiar for him, because it was gossip about Elena’s parents, people they both had known. “Thomas and Elizabeth were both terrifically flattered, of course.”
“And…” Elena prompted.

James laced his fingers across his stomach and watched her, his eyes shadowed. “They agreed that, when the child was twelve years old, they would give her up. The Guardians would take her away, and they would never see her again.”

Elena was suddenly very cold. Her parents had raised her intending to give her away? She felt like all her childhood memories were shattering. In an instant, James was at her side. “Breathe,” he said gently.

Gasping, Elena shut her eyes and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. That her parents, her beloved parents, had taken her on as some kind of temporary project, was devastating. She had never doubted their love until now.

She had to know the whole truth. “Go on.”

“Honestly, that was the end of my friendship with your parents, and the end of my involvement with the Vitale Society,” James said, taking another long drink of his whiskey-laced tea. “I couldn’t believe that no one else in the Society saw the problem with raising a child to the cusp of adolescence and then giving her up forever, and I couldn’t believe that your parents—who I knew to be loving, intelligent people—would agree to such a plan. We graduated and went our separate ways, and I didn’t hear from your parents again for more than twelve years.”
“You heard from them then?” Elena asked quietly. “Your father called me. The Guardians had contacted
them, ready to take you away. But Thomas and Elizabeth

wouldn’t let you go.” James smiled sadly. “They loved you too much. They didn’t think you were ready to leave home— you were only a child. They realized that they had agreed too quickly to the Guardians’ plan, that they didn’t really know what was in store for you, and that they couldn’t let their daughter go without knowing for certain that it was the best thing for her. So Thomas asked for my help protecting you. They knew I had dabbled in sorcery when I was in college”—he waved his hand modestly when Elena looked up at him—“only small magics, and I had mostly given them up by then. But he and Elizabeth were desperate. So I gathered what knowledge I could, intending to help them.”
He paused, and a gloom settled over his face. “Unfortunately, I was too late. A few days after our conversation, before I even set out for Fell’s Church, your parents were both killed in a car accident. I checked up on you over the years, but it didn’t seem like the Guardians had gotten their hands on you. And now, here you are. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“The Guardians killed my parents,” Elena said dully. “I knew it, but I didn’t know… I thought it was an accident.” She was struggling to wrap her mind around the secrets of her childhood. At least in the end her parents hadn’t been able to give her away. They had loved her, as she had thought.

“They tend to get what they want,” James said. “Why didn’t they take me then?” Elena asked. James shook his head. “I don’t know. But I think there’s
a reason you’re at Dalcrest now, where it began for you and

for your parents. I think that some kind of task will arise here, and you’ll come into your Powers.”

“A task?” Elena asked. “But I had Powers once, and the Guardians took them away.” They had mercilessly stripped her of her Wings and all her abilities. Were they going to return them when the time was right?

James sighed and shrugged helplessly. “Plans sometimes have curious ways of presenting themselves, even those that are fated from the start,” he said. “Maybe these disappearances are the first sign of it. I don’t know, though. As I told the class, Dalcrest is the hub of a lot of paranormal activity. I tend to think that, when your task presents itself, you’ll know.”

“But I’m not…” Elena gulped. “I don’t understand what this all means. I just want to be a normal girl. I thought I could now. Here.”

James reached across the table and patted her hand, his eyes deep wells of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” he said. “I didn’t want to be the one to burden you with this. But I will give you any help I can. Thomas and Elizabeth would have wanted that.”

Elena felt like she couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of this cozy kitchen, away from James’s avid, concerned eyes. “Thank you,” she said, hurriedly pushing her chair away from the table and getting up. “I have to go now, though. I do appreciate your telling me all this, but I need to think.”

He fussed around her all the way to the front door, clearly unsure of whether to let her go, and Elena was

almost ready to scream by the time she reached the porch. “Thank you,” she said again. “Good-bye.” She walked quickly away without looking back, her shoes clacking against the cement of the sidewalk. When she was out of sight of James’s house, Damon slipped from the shadows to join her. Elena held her head high, blinking away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. For now, this secret would be hers.