Celia stood up, smoothed her sundress, and walked out the door, head high. As she passed, she brushed against the table near Mrs. Flowers's chair, sending her knitting to the floor.
Bonnie let out a breath as Celia left the room. "Wel , real y!" she said indignantly.
"Bonnie," said Matt warningly.
"I know," said Bonnie angrily. "She could have at least said 'excuse me,' right? And what was that with asking Alaric to come with her to UVA? He just got here, practical y. He hasn't seen you for months. Of course he's not going to leave again with her right now."
"Bonnie," said Meredith, in a strangely choked voice.
"What?" said Bonnie, catching the oddness in her tone and looking around. "Oh. Oh. Oh, no."
Mrs. Flowers's knitting had fal en from its table, and the skein of yarn had rol ed across the floor, unwinding as it went. Now, in the curls of soft pale pink, they could al clearly read one word written across the carpet: bonnie
Chapter 17
Once he got outside, Stefan remembered that Elena had taken his car. Turning into the woods, he began to run, using his Power to speed his pace. The pounding of his feet seemed to thud, Guard her, Guard her.
He knew where Tyler Smal wood had lived. After Tyler had attacked Elena at a dance, it had made sense to keep an eye on him. Stefan burst from the woods at the edge of the Smal woods' property.
They owned an ugly house, in Stefan's opinion. An inaccurate portrayal of an old Southern manor estate, it was too big for the lawn it sat on and bulged with unnecessary columns and twisting rococo decorations. Just looking at it, Stefan had been able to tel that the Smal woods had more money than taste, and that the architects who'd designed it weren't educated in true classical forms.
He rang the bel at the front door, then froze. What if Mr. or Mrs. Smal wood answered the bel ? He would have to Influence them to give him as much information as they could about Caleb, and then to forget Stefan had been there. He hoped he had the Power to do it: He hadn't been eating enough, not even of animal blood.
But no one came. After a few seconds, Stefan sent questing tendrils of Power through the house. It was empty. He couldn't go in, couldn't search Caleb's room like he wanted to. Without an invitation, he was stuck out here. He wandered around the house, peering through the windows, but finding nothing out of the ordinary other than entirely too many gilded frames and mirrors. Behind the house he found a smal white shed. Sending Power toward it, he felt something slightly... off. Just the slightest tinge of darkness, a feeling of frustration and il intent.
The shed was padlocked, but the lock was easy enough to snap. And as no one lived here, he didn't need an invitation to enter.
The first thing he saw was Elena's face. Newspaper clippings and photos were tacked al over the wal s: Elena, Bonnie, Meredith, himself. On the floor was a pentagram with more pictures and roses.
Stefan's certainty that something was wrong solidified. Elena was in danger. Sending Power before him, searching desperately for any trace of her, he took off running again.
As she drove away from the florist's, Elena turned the conversation with Stefan over and over in her mind. What was going on with him since they'd come back to Fel 's Church? It felt like there was part of him that he was holding back, hiding from her. She remembered the loneliness, the sinking, dizzy feeling of isolation that she had sensed when she kissed him. Was it Damon's loss that was changing Stefan?
Damon. Just the thought of him was enough to cause an almost physical pain in her. Mercurial, difficult, beautiful Damon. Dangerous. Loving, in his own way. The thought of his name, written in water plants across Meredith's legs, floated through her mind.
She didn't know what it meant. But there was no hope. She needed to stop lying to herself about that. She had seen Damon die. Yet it seemed impossible that someone as complex and strong and seemingly undefeatable as Damon could be gone so quickly and so simply. But that was the way it happened, wasn't it? She should know that death didn't often come with a grand show, that it usual y came when you were least expecting it. She had known that before al this... al this stuff with vampires and werewolves and evil mysterious opponents. She had known al about the suddenness and simplicity of death for years, back when she was just normal Elena Gilbert, who didn't believe in anything supernatural, not even horoscopes or fortune-tel ing, much less monsters.
She glanced at the passenger seat next to her, where there lay the bouquet of pink roses she had picked up to give to Margaret. And, next to them, a simple bunch of forget-me-nots. Like I'd ever forget, she thought. Elena remembered riding in the car toward home with her parents and baby Margaret on an ordinary Sunday afternoon. It had been a beautiful sunny fal day, the leaves of the trees by the roadside just beginning to be painted with red and gold.
They'd gone to lunch at a little inn out in the country. Margaret, who was teething, had been cranky at the restaurant, and they'd taken turns walking her up and down on the porch of the inn for a few minutes at a time while the others ate. But in the car she was quiet, half drowsing, her light golden lashes fluttering down to rest for longer and longer periods against her cheeks.
Elena's father had been driving, she remembered, and the radio had been tuned to the local station so he could catch the news. Her mother had twisted to look at Elena in the backseat, her sapphire blue eyes so like Elena's own. Her golden hair, touched with a little gray, was pul ed back in a French braid, elegant and practical. Smiling, she had said, "Do you know what I think would be nice?"
"What?" asked Elena, smiling back at her. Then she saw a strange glitter, high in the sky, and leaned forward without waiting for a reply. "Daddy, what's that?" She'd pointed upward.
Elena never found out what her mother had thought would be nice. Her father never answered what that was. The last things Elena remembered were sounds: her father's gasp and the screech of the car's tires. Everything after that was blank, until Elena had woken up in the hospital, Aunt Judith by her bedside, and learned that her parents were dead. They had died before the paramedics had even pried them out of the car.
Before they restored Fel 's Church, the Guardians had told Elena that she should have died in that accident, and that her parents should have lived. The glitter had been their air car, and Elena had distracted her father at the worst possible moment, causing al the wrong people to die. She could feel the weight of it now, the guilt at surviving, her anger at the Guardians. She glanced at the dashboard clock. There was stil plenty of time before she had to be at Margaret's recital. Turning off the highway, she pul ed into the cemetery's parking lot.