Moonsong (22 page)

“Maybe you never did.”

Bonnie stomped out of the room, hitching the strap of the duffel bag higher on her shoulder.

“Bonnie” she heard behind her and turned to look back one more time. Meredith and Elena were both reaching after her, identical expressions of frustration on their faces.

“I’m going to Zander’s,” Bonnie told them curtly. That would show them what she thought about their suspicions of him.

She slammed the door behind her.

28

“Of course Bonnie’s upset,” Alaric said. “This is her first real boyfriend. But the three of you have been through a lot together. She’l come back to you, and she’l listen to you, once she gets a chance to cool down.” His voice was deep and loving, and Meredith squeezed her eyes shut and held the phone more tightly to her ear, picturing his grad-student apartment with the cozy brown couch and the milk-crate bookshelves. She had never wished so hard that she was there.

“What if something happens to her, though?” Meredith said. “I can’t wait around for Bonnie to get over being mad at me if she’s in danger.”

Alaric made a thinking noise into the phone, and Meredith could picture his forehead scrunching in that cute way it did when he was analyzing a problem from different angles.

“Wel ,” he said at last, “Bonnie’s been spending a lot of time with Zander, right? A lot of time alone? And she’s been fine thus far. I think we can conclude that, even if Zander is the one behind the attacks on campus, he’s not planning to hurt Bonnie.”

“I think your reasoning is sort of specious there,” Meredith said, feeling oddly comforted by his words nevertheless.

Alaric gave a smal huff of surprised laughter. “Don’t cal my bluff,” he said. “I have a reputation for being logical.” Meredith heard the creak of Alaric’s desk chair on the other end of the line and imagined him leaning back, phone tucked into his shoulder, hands behind his head. “I’m so sorry about Samantha,” he said, voice sobering.

Meredith nestled farther into her bed, pressing her face against the pil ow. “I can’t talk about it yet,” she said, closing her eyes. “I just have to figure out who kil ed her.”

“I don’t know if this is going to be useful,” Alaric said,

“but I’ve been doing some research on the history of Dalcrest.”

“Like the ghosts and weird mysteries around campus Elena’s professor was talking about in class?”

“Wel , there’s even more to the history of the col ege than he told them about,” Alaric said. Meredith could hear him shuffling papers, probably flicking through the pages of one of his research notebooks. “Dalcrest appears to be something of a paranormal hotspot. There have been incidents that sound like vampire and werewolf attacks throughout its history, and this isn’t the first time there’s been a string of mysterious disappearances on campus.”

“Real y?” Meredith sat up. “How can the col ege stay open if people disappear al the time?”

“It’s not al the time,” Alaric replied. “The last major wave of disappearances was during the Second World War.

There was a lot of population mobility at the time, and, although the missing students left worried friends and family behind, the police assumed that the young men who disappeared had run off to enlist and the young women to marry soldiers or to work in munitions factories. The fact that the students never turned up again seems to have been disregarded, and the cases weren’t viewed as related.”

“Super work on the police department’s part,” Meredith said acidly.

“There’s a lot of weird behavior on campus, too,” Alaric said. “Sororities in the seventies practicing black magic, that kind of thing.”

“Any of those sororities stil around?” Meredith asked.

“Not those specific ones,” Alaric said, “but it’s something to keep in mind. There might be something about the campus that makes people more likely to experiment with the supernatural.”

“And what is that?” Meredith asked, flopping down on her back again. “What’s your theory, Professor?”

“Wel , it’s not my theory,” Alaric said, “but I found someone online who suggested that Dalcrest may be somewhere with a huge concentration of crossing ley lines, the same way that Fel ’s Church is. This whole part of Virginia has a lot of supernatural power, but some parts even more than others.”

Meredith frowned. Ley lines, the strong lines of Power running beneath the surface of the earth, shone like beacons to the supernatural world.

“And some people theorize that, where there are ley lines, the barriers between our world and the Dark Dimensions are thinner,” Alaric continued. Wincing, Meredith remembered the creatures she, Bonnie, and Elena had faced in the Dark Dimension. If they were able to cross over, to come to Dalcrest as the kitsune had come to Fel ’s Church, everyone was in danger.

“We don’t have any proof of that, though,” Alaric said reassuringly, hurrying to fil up the silence between them.

“Al we know is that Dalcrest has a history of supernatural activity. We don’t even know for sure if that’s what we’re facing now.”

An image of Samantha’s blank dead eyes fil ed Meredith’s mind. There had been a smear of blood across her cheek below her right eye. The murder scene had been so gruesome, and Samantha had been kil ed so horrifical y.

Meredith believed in her heart of hearts that Alaric’s theories must be correct: there was no way Samantha had been murdered by a human being.

29

“You should be proud.” The Vitale Society pledges were lined up in the underground meeting room, just like they had been the first day when they removed their blindfolds.

Under the arch in front of them, the Vitales in black masks watched quietly.

Ethan paced among the pledges, eyes bright. “You should be proud,” he repeated. “The Vitale Society offered you an opportunity. The chance to become one of us, to join an organization that can give you great power, help you on your road to success.”

Ethan paused and gazed at them. “Not al of you were worthy,” he said seriously. “We watched you, you know. Not just when you were here, or doing pledge events, but al the time. The candidates who couldn’t cut it, who didn’t merit joining our ranks, were eliminated.”

Matt looked around. It was true, there were fewer of them now than there had been at their first meeting. That tal bearded senior who was some kind of biogenetics whiz was gone. A skinny blonde girl who Matt remembered doggedly grinding her way through the run wasn’t there either. There were only ten pledges left.

“Those of you who remain?” Ethan lifted his hands like he was giving them some kind of benediction. “At last it is time for you to be initiated, to ful y become members of the Vitale Society, to learn our secrets and walk our path.” Matt felt a little swel of pride as Ethan smiled at them al . It felt like Ethan’s eyes lingered longer on Matt than on the others, like his smile for Matt was just a bit warmer. Like Matt was, among al these exceptional pledges, special.

Ethan started to walk through the crowd and talk again, this time about the preparations that needed to be made for their initiation. He asked a couple of pledges to bring roses and lilies to decorate the room—it sounded like he was expecting them to buy out a couple of flower stores—

others to find candles. One person was assigned to buy a specific kind of wine. Frankly, it reminded Matt of Elena and the other girls planning a high school dance.

“Okay,” Ethan said, indicating Chloe and a long-haired girl named Anna, “I’d like you two to go to the herb store and get yerba mata, guarana, hawthorn, ginseng, chamomile, and danshen. Do you want to write that down?” Matt perked up a little. Herbs were slightly more mystical and mysterious, befitting a secret society, although ginseng and chamomile just reminded him of the tea his mom drank when she had a cold.

Ethan moved on from the girls, his eyes fixed on Matt, and Matt prepared to be sent in search of punch or ranch dip.

But Ethan, locking eyes with Matt, inclined his head a little, indicating that Matt should join him a little apart from the rest of the group. Matt jogged over to meet Ethan, slightly intrigued. What couldn’t Ethan say in front of the others?

“I’ve got a special job for you, Matt,” Ethan said, rubbing his hands together in obvious pleasure at the prospect. “I want you to invite your friend Stefan Salvatore to join us.”

“Sorry?” Matt said, confused.

“To be a Vitale Society member,” Ethan explained. “We missed him when we selected candidates at the beginning of the year, but now that I’ve met him, I think—we think”—

and he waved a hand at the quietly watching masked figures on the other side of the room—“that he would be an ideal fit for us.”

Matt frowned. He didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of Ethan, but something struck him as off about this. “But he hasn’t done any of the pledge stuff. Isn’t it too late for him to join this year?”

Ethan smiled slightly, just a thin tilting of his lips. “I think we can make an exception for Stefan.”

“But—” Matt began to protest, then instead smiled back at Ethan. “I’l cal him and see if he’s interested,” he promised.

Ethan patted him lightly on the back. “Thank you, Matt.

You’re a natural for Vitale, you know. I’m sure you can convince him.”

As Ethan walked away, Matt watched him, wondering why the praise felt sour this time.

It was because it didn’t make sense, Matt decided, walking back to his dorm after the pledge meeting. What was so special about Stefan that Ethan had decided they had to have him pledge the Vitale Society now instead of just waiting til next year? Okay, yes: vampire—that was special about Stefan, but no one knew that. And he was handsome and sophisticated in that ever-so-slightly European way that had al the girls back in high school fal ing at his feet, but he wasn’t that handsome, and there were plenty of foreign students on campus.

Matt stopped stock-stil . Was he jealous? It wasn’t fair, maybe, that Stefan could just waltz in and be immediately offered something that Matt had worked for, that Matt had thought was only his.

But so what? It wasn’t Stefan’s fault if Ethan wanted to give him special treatment. Stefan was hurting after his breakup with Elena; maybe it would do him good to join the Vitale. And it would be fun to have one of his friends in the Society. Stefan deserved it, real y: he was brave and noble, a leader, even if there was no way Ethan and the others could have known that.

Firmly pushing away any remaining niggle of not fair, Matt pul ed out his cel phone and cal ed Stefan.

“Hey,” he said. “Listen, do you remember that guy Ethan?”

“I guess I don’t understand,” Zander said. His arm around Bonnie’s shoulder was strong and solidly reassuring, and his T-shirt, where she had buried her face against him, smel ed of clean cotton and fabric softener. “What were you and your friends fighting about?”

“The point is, they don’t trust my judgment,” Bonnie said, wiping her eyes. “If it had been either of them, they wouldn’t have been so quick to jump to conclusions.”

“Conclusions about what?” Zander asked, but Bonnie didn’t answer. After a moment, Zander reached out and ran one finger gently along her jawline and over her lips, his eyes intent on her face. “Of course you can stay here as long as you want to, Bonnie. I’m at your service,” he said in an oddly formal tone.

Bonnie looked around Zander’s room with interest.

She’d never been here before; in fact, she’d had to cal him to find out what dorm he lived in, and how weird was that for a girlfriend to not know? But if she’d tried to picture what his room would be like, she would have assumed it would be messy and very guyish: old pizza boxes on the floor, dirty laundry, weird smel s. Maybe a poster with a half-naked girl on it. But, in fact, it was just the opposite. Everything was very bare and uncluttered: nothing on top of the school-issued dresser and desk, no pictures on the wal s or rug on the floor. The bed was neatly made.

The single bed. That they were both sitting on. Her and her boyfriend.

Bonnie felt a flush rise up over her face. She silently cursed her habit of blushing—she was sure that even her ears were bright red. She’d just asked her boyfriend if she could move into his room. And sure, he was gorgeous and lovely and kissing him was probably the most amazing experience of her life so far, but she’d just started kissing him last night. What if he thought she was suggesting something more?

Zander was eyeing her thoughtful y as Bonnie blushed.

“You know,” he said, “I can sleep on the floor. I’m not—um—

expecting—” He broke off and now he was blushing, too.

The sight of flustered Zander immediately made Bonnie feel better. She patted him on the arm. “I know,” she said. “I told Meredith and Elena you were a good guy.” Zander frowned. “What? Do they think I’m not?” When Bonnie didn’t answer, he slowly released her, leaning back to take a close look at her face. “Bonnie? When you had this big fight with your friends, were you fighting about me?” Bonnie shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Okay. Wow.” Zander ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know Elena and I didn’t real y hit it off, but I’m sure we’l get along better when we get to know each other. This wil al blow over then. It’s not worth it to stop being friends with them.”

“It’s not—” Tears sprang into Bonnie’s eyes. Zander was being so sweet, and he had no idea how Elena and Meredith had wronged him. “I can’t tel you,” she said.

“Bonnie?” Zander pul ed her closer. “Don’t cry. It can’t be that bad.” Bonnie began to cry harder, tears streaming down her cheeks, and he held on to her. “Just tel me,” he said.

“It’s not that they just don’t like you, Zander,” she said between sobs. “They think you might be the kil er.”

“What? Why?” Zander recoiled, almost leaping across the bed away from her, his face white and shocked.

Bonnie explained what Meredith thought she saw, her impression of Zander’s hair beneath the hoodie of the attacker she chased off. “Which is so unfair,” she finished,

“because even if she did see what she thought she saw, it’s not like you’re the only person with real y light blond hair on campus. They’re being ridiculous.”