“And so,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “I have had a present made for you.” She took his hand and pressed something into it. When he looked he saw that it was a ring in the same fashion as her own, but larger and heavier, and wrought in silver instead of gold.
“You do not need it yet to face the sun,” she said softly, smiling. “But very soon you will.”
Pride and rapture made him mute. He reached for her hand to kiss it, wanting to take her into his arms right then, even in front of Damon. But Katherine was turning away.
“And for you,” she said, and Stefan thought his ears must be betraying him, for surely the warmth, the fondness in Katherine’s voice could not be for his brother, “for you, also. You will need ft very soon as well.”
Stefan’s eyes must be traitors, too. They were showing him what was impossible, what could not be. Into Damon’s hand Katherine was putting a ring just like his own.
The silence that followed was absolute, like the silence after the world’s ending.
“Katherine—” Stefan could barely force out the words. “How can you give that to him? After what we shared—”
“What you shared?” Damon’s voice was like the crack of a whip, and he turned on Stefan angrily. “Last night she came to me. The choice is already made.” And Damon jerked down his high collar to show two tiny wounds in his throat. Stefan stared at them, fighting down the bright sickness. They were identical to his own wounds.
He shook his head in utter bewilderment. “But, Katherine… it was not a dream. You came to me…”
“I came to both of you.” Katherine’s voice was tranquil, even pleased, and her eyes were serene. She smiled at Damon and then at Stefan in turn. “It has weakened me, but I am so glad I did. Don’t you see?” she continued as they stared at her, too stunned to speak. “This is my choice! I love you both, and I will not give either of you up. Now we all three will be together, and be happy.”
“Happy—” Stefan choked out.
“Yes, happy! The three of us will be companions, joyous companions, forever.” Her voice rose with elation, and the light of a radiant child shone in her eyes. “We will be together always, never feeling sickness, never growing old, until the end of time! That is my choice.”
“Happy… with him?” Damon’s voice was shaking with fury, and Stefan saw that his normally self-contained brother was white with rage. “With this boy standing between us, this prating, mouthing paragon of virtue? I can barely stand the sight of him now. I wish to God that I should never see him again, never hear his voice again!”
“And I wish the same of you, brother,” snarled Stefan, his heart tearing in his breast. This was Damon’s fault; Damon had poisoned Katherine’s mind so that she no longer knew what she was doing. “And I have half a mind to make sure of it,” he added savagely.
Damon did not mistake his meaning. “Then get your sword, if you can find it,” he hissed back, his eyes black with menace.
“Damon, Stefan, please! Please, no!” Katherine cried, putting herself between them, catching Stefan’s arm. She looked from one to the other, her blue eyes wide with shock and bright with unshed tears. “Think of what you are saying. You are brothers.”
“By no fault of mine,” Damon grated, making the words a curse.
“But can you not make peace? For me, Damon… Stefan? Please.”
Part of Stefan wanted to melt at Katherine’s desperate look, at her tears. But wounded pride and jealousy were too strong, and he knew his face was as hard, as unyielding, as Damon’s.
“No,” he said. “We cannot. It must be one or the other, Katherine. I will never share you with him.”
Katherine’s hand fell away from his arm, and the tears fell from her eyes, great droplets that splashed onto the white gown. She caught her breath in a wrenching sob. Then, still weeping, she picked up her skirts and ran.
“And then Damon took the ring she had given him and put it on,” Stefan said, his voice hoarse with use and emotion. “And he said to me, ‘I’ll have her yet, brother.’ And then he walked away.” He turned, blinking as if he’d come into a bright light from the dark, and looked at Elena.
She was sitting quite still on the bed, watching him with those eyes that were so much like Katherine’s. Especially now, when they were filled with sorrow and dread. But Elena did not run. She spoke to him.
“And… what happened then?”
Stefan’s hands clenched violently, reflexively, and he jerked away from the window. Not that memory. He could not endure that memory himself, much less try to speak it. How could he do that? How could he take Elena down into that darkness and show her the terrible things lurking there?
“No,” he said. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“You have to tell me,” she said softly. “Stefan, it’s the end of the story, isn’t it? That’s what’s behind all your walls, that’s what you’re afraid to let me see. But you must let me see it. Oh, Stefan, you can’t stop now.”
He could feel the horror reaching for him, the yawning pit he had seen so clearly, felt so clearly that day long ago. The day when it had all ended — when it had all begun.
He felt his hand taken, and when he looked he saw Elena’s fingers closed about it, giving him warmth, giving him strength. Her eyes were on his. “Tell me.”
“You want to know what happened next, what became of Katherine?” he whispered. She nodded, her eyes nearly blind but still steady. “I’ll tell you, then. She died the next day. My brother Damon and I, we killed her.”
Chapter Fourteen
Elena felt her flesh creep at the words.
“You don’t mean that,” she said shakily. She remembered what she had seen on the roof, the blood smeared on Stefan’s lips, and she forced herself not to recoil from him. “Stefan, I know you. You couldn’t have done that…”
He ignored her protestations, just went on staring with eyes that burned like the green ice at the bottom of a glacier. He was looking through her, into some incomprehensible distance. “As I lay in bed that night, I hoped against hope that she would come. Already I was noticing some of the changes in myself. I could see better in the dark; it seemed I could hear better. I felt stronger than ever before, full of some elemental energy. And I was hungry.
“It was a hunger I had never imagined. At dinner I found that ordinary food and drink did nothing to satisfy it. I couldn’t understand that. And then I saw the white neck of one of the serving girls, and I knew why.” He drew a long breath, his eyes dark and tortured. “That night, I resisted the need, though it took all my will. I was thinking of Katherine, and praying she would come to me. Praying!” He gave a short laugh. “If a creature like me can pray.”
Elena’s fingers were numb within his grasp, but she tried to tighten them, to send him reassurance. “Go on, Stefan.”
He had no trouble speaking now. He seemed almost to have forgotten her presence, as if he were telling this story to himself.
“The next morning the need was stronger. It was as if my own veins were dry and cracked, desperate for moisture. I knew that I couldn’t stand it for long.
“I went to Katherine’s chambers. I meant to ask her, to plead with her—” His voice cracked. He paused and then went on. “But Damon was there already, waiting outside her rooms. I could see that he hadn’t resisted the need. The glow of his skin, the spring in his step, told me that. He looked as smug as the cat who’s had the cream.