“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. Footbal 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 fol ow 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. “Shal 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’l excuse me.” And, stil 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, wel ,” he said, “the problem is of course that unchaperoned solo visits from a student—any student, you understand, my dear, no reflection on you personal y—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 tel 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. Wil you?”
James visibly wavered and then seemed to give in al at once, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know if anything I can tel you wil help. I don’t know anything about the murders.
But you’d better come in,” he said, and led the way down the hal 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 wal s at intervals.
James sat her down at the table, then busied himself with making her a cup of tea.
Elena waited patiently until he final y 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. “Tel 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 al 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 principal y 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, al of us, had no doubt that we were in the presence of an angel. He cal ed 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. “Wel , 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 kil ed her parents in an attempt to kil Elena so that they could recruit her to their ranks. Al the Guardians she’d met were female, though; she hadn’t even known there were male Guardians as wel .
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, smal er and smal er, 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 bril iant 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 meaningful y. 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 swal ow 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 stil have to tel you the worst part.” He got up and rummaged around in one of the cupboards, eventual y pul ing out a smal bottle ful 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.