The Vampire Diaries_THE HUNTERS VOL#2 MOONSONG

5

The sun was way too bright. Bonnie shielded her eyes with one hand and glanced anxiously around as she walked across the quad toward the bookstore. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep after getting back to their room the night before. What if some crazy person was stalking the campus?

It’s broad daylight, she told herself. There are people everywhere. I have nothing to be afraid of. But bad things could happen during the day, too. Girls got lured into cars by horrible men, or hit over the head and taken to dark places. Monsters didn’t just lurk in the night. After all, she knew several vampires who strolled around during the day all the time. Damon and Stefan didn’t scare her, not anymore, but there were other daytime monsters. I just want to feel safe for once, she thought wistfully.

She was coming up on the area the police had been searching the night before, still blocked off with yellow tape. Students were standing nearby in groups of two or three, talking in low voices. Bonnie spied a reddish-brown stain across the path that she thought might be blood, and she walked faster as she passed it.

There was a rustling in the bushes. Bonnie sped up

even more, picturing a wild-eyed attacker hiding in the undergrowth, and glanced around nervously. No one was looking in her direction. Would they help her if she screamed?

She risked another look back at the bush—should she just take off running?—and stopped, embarrassed by the furious thumping of her heart. A cute little squirrel hopped hesitantly from under the branches. It sniffed the air, then dashed across the path and up a tree behind the police tape.

“Honestly, Bonnie McCullough, you’re a moron,” Bonnie muttered to herself. A guy passing her in the other direction overheard her and snickered, making Bonnie blush furiously.

By the time she got to the bookstore, she’d gotten her blushing under control. Having the typical redhead’s complexion was a pain—everything she felt was broadcast by the flush or paleness of her skin. With any luck, though, she’d be able to handle a simple trip to buy books without humiliating herself.

Bonnie had started getting acquainted with the bookstore when she’d had her shopping spree yesterday, but she hadn’t really investigated the book side of the store. Today, though, she had the book list for the classes she’d registered for, and she needed to stock up for some serious studying. She’d never been a huge fan of school, but maybe college would be different. With a resolute squaring of her shoulders, she turned determinedly away from the shiny stuff and toward the textbooks.

The book lists were awfully long, though. She found the fat Intro to Psychology textbook with a sense of satisfaction: this would definitely give her the terminology to diagnose her friends. The freshman English seminar she was assigned to covered a slew of novels, so she wandered through the fiction section, pulling The Red and the Black, Oliver Twist, and The Age of Innocence off the shelves as she passed.

She rounded a corner in search of the rest of the Ws, intent on adding To the Lighthouse to her growing stack of books, and froze.

Zander. Beautiful, beautiful Zander was draped gracefully next to a bookshelf, his white-blond head bent over a book. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Bonnie immediately ducked back into the previous aisle.
She leaned against the wall, breathing hard. She could feel her cheeks heating up again, that awful telltale blush.
Carefully, she peeked back around the corner. He hadn’t noticed her; he was still reading intently. He was wearing a gray T-shirt today, and his soft-looking hair curled a bit at the nape of his neck. His face looked sort of sad with those gorgeous blue eyes hidden beneath his long lashes and no sign of that fabulous smile. There were dark shadows under his eyes.

Bonnie’s first instinct was to sneak away. She could wait and find the Virginia Woolf book tomorrow; it wasn’t like she was going to read it today. She really didn’t want Zander to think she was stalking him. It would be better if he saw her somewhere, when she wasn’t paying attention. If

he approached her, she’d know he was interested.
After all, maybe he wasn’t interested in Bonnie. He’d been kind of flirtatious when he’d run into her, but he’d nearly knocked her down. What if he was just being friendly? What if he didn’t even remember Bonnie?
Nope, better to take off this time and wait till she was better prepared. She wasn’t even wearing eyeliner, for heaven’s sake. Making up her mind, Bonnie turned firmly away.

But, on the other hand…

Bonnie hesitated. There’d been a connection between them, hadn’t there? She’d felt something when her eyes met his. And he’d smiled at her like he was really seeing her, past the fluff and fluster.

And what about the resolution she’d made the day before, walking to her dorm from this very same bookstore? If she was going to become a terrific, confident, stepping-out-of-the-shadows kind of person, she couldn’t run away every time she saw a boy she liked.
Bonnie had always admired the way that Elena managed to get what she wanted. Elena just went after it and nothing got in her way. When Stefan had first come to Fell’s Church, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Elena, certainly not to fall into her arms and start some kind of amazing eternal romance. But Elena hadn’t cared. She was going to have Stefan, even if it killed her.

And, well, it had killed her, hadn’t it?

Bonnie shivered. Bonnie shook her head a little. The point was, if you wanted to find love, you couldn’t be afraid

of trying, could you?

She stuck her chin determinedly into the air. At least she wasn’t blushing anymore. Her cheeks were so cold, she was probably as white as a snowwoman, but she definitely wasn’t blushing. So that was something.

Before she could change her mind again, she walked quickly around the corner back into the aisle where Zander stood reading.

“Hi!” she said, her voice squeaking a tiny bit. “Zander!” He looked up, and that amazing, beautiful smile spread across his face.

“Bonnie!” he said enthusiastically. “Hey, I’m really glad to see you. I was thinking about you earlier.”
“You were?” Bonnie asked, and immediately wanted to kick herself at how overly enthusiastic she sounded.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I was.” His sky-blue eyes held hers. “I was wishing I’d gotten your phone number.”
“You were?” Bonnie asked again, and this time didn’t even worry about how she sounded.

“Sure,” he said. He scuffed his feet against the carpet, like he was a little nervous, and a warmth blossomed inside Bonnie. He was nervous talking to her! “I was thinking,” Zander went on, “maybe we could do something sometime. I mean, if you wanted to.”

“Oh,” Bonnie said. “I mean, yes! I would want to. If you did.”

Zander smiled again, and it was as if their little corner of the fiction section was lit up with a glowing light. Bonnie had to keep herself from staggering backward, he was so

gorgeous.

“How about this weekend?” Zander asked, and Bonnie, feeling suddenly as light and buoyant as though she could float up into the air, smiled back.

stepped her left foot behind her and raised her right heel, moving into a back stance as she brought her hands up sharply, fists together, in a blocking move. Then she slid her foot sideways into a front stance and punched forward with the fist of her left hand. She loved running through a taekwondo form. Each movement was choreographed, and the only thing to do was to practice over and over until the whole form flowed in a model of precision, grace, and control. Taekwondo forms were perfectible, and Meredith enjoyed perfection.
The most glorious thing about them was that once she knew her forms so well that they were as natural as breathing, she could be ready for anything. In a fight, she would be able to sense what her opponent’s next move would be and counter with a block or a kick or a punch without even thinking.

She turned swiftly, blocked high with her right hand and low with her left. It was the preparation, Meredith knew. If she was so prepared that her body could sense what move she needed to make without her brain having to get involved, then she would be able to truly protect herself and everyone else around her.

A few weeks ago, when she and her friends had been

under attack from the phantom and she’d sprained her ankle, only Stefan had been left with Power enough to defend Fell’s Church.

Stefan, a vampire.

Meredith’s lips tightened as she automatically kicked forward with her right foot, slid into a tiger stance, and blocked with her left hand.

She liked Stefan, and she trusted him, she really did, but still… She could picture generation upon generation of Sulezes rolling over in their graves, cursing her, if they knew that she had left herself and her friends so vulnerable, with only a vampire between themselves and danger. Vampires were the enemy.

Not Stefan, of course. She knew, despite all her training, that she could put her faith in Stefan. Damon, on the other hand… However useful Damon had been in a couple of battles, however reasonably pleasant and, frankly, out-of-character he had behaved for the last few weeks, Meredith couldn’t bring herself to trust him.
But if she trained hard, if she perfected herself as a warrior, Meredith wouldn’t have to. She moved into a right front stance and, sharp and clean, punched forward with her right hand.

“Nice punch,” said a voice behind her.

Meredith turned to see a short-haired African American girl leaning against the door of the practice room, watching her.

“Thanks,” said Meredith, surprised.

The girl strolled into the room. “What are you,” she

asked, “a black belt?”

“Yes,” Meredith said, and couldn’t help adding proudly, “in taekwondo and karate.”

“Hmm,” the girl said, her eyes sparkling. “I do taekwondo and aikido myself. My name’s Samantha. I’ve been looking for a sparring partner. Interested?”
Despite the casualness of her tone, Samantha was bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet, a mischievous smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, and Meredith’s eyes narrowed.

“Sure,” she said, her attitude light. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Samantha’s smile broadened. She kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the practice mat next to Meredith. They faced off, assessing each other. She was a head shorter than Meredith, thin, but wiry and sleekly muscled, and she moved as gracefully as a cat.

The anticipation in the girl’s eyes betrayed Samantha’s belief that Meredith would be easy to beat. She was thinking that Meredith was one of those trainees who was all form and technique with no real fighting instinct. Meredith knew that kind of fighter well, had met them often enough in competitions. If that was what Samantha thought of Meredith, she was in for a surprise.

“Ready?” Samantha asked. At Meredith’s nod, she immediately launched a punch while bringing the oppositeside foot around in an attempt to sweep Meredith off her feet. Meredith reacted instinctively, blocking the blow, dodging the foot, then sweeping a kick of her own, which

Samantha avoided, grinning with simple pleasure.
They exchanged a few more blows and kicks, and, against her will, Meredith was impressed. This girl was fast, faster than most of the fighters Meredith had faced before, even at the black-belt level, and much stronger than she looked.

She was too cocky, though, an aggressive fighter instead of a defensive one; the way she’d hurried to strike the first blow showed that. Meredith could use that cockiness against her.

Samantha shifted her weight, and Meredith slid in below her defenses, giving a fast spin heel kick that hit Samantha firmly on the upper thigh. She staggered a bit, and Meredith moved out of range quickly.

Samantha’s face changed immediately. She was getting angry now, Meredith could tell, and that, too, was a weakness. She was frowning, her lips tight, while Meredith kept her own face purposefully blank. Samantha’s fists and feet were moving quickly, but she lost some accuracy as she sped up.

Meredith pretended to fall back under the assault, feinting to keep her opponent off-balance, allowing herself to be backed toward a corner while still blocking Samantha’s blows. When she was almost cornered, she jammed her arm against Samantha’s fist, stopping her before she could fully extend her blow, and swept a foot under hers.

Samantha tripped, caught by Meredith’s low kick, and fell heavily to the mat. She lay there and just stared up at

Meredith for a moment, face stunned, while Meredith hovered over her, suddenly uncertain. Had she hurt Samantha? Was the girl going to be angry and storm off?
Then Samantha’s face blossomed into a wide, glowing smile. “That was awesome!” she said. “Can you show me that move?”