He refused to give in to it, and the pain grew worse, a feeling as if his soul was tearing loose like the sapling. It stabbed through him like spears of fire, concentrating on the punctures in his flesh where Damon’s teeth had sunk in. Agony flamed up his jaw and cheek and down his chest and shoulder. He felt a wave of vertigo and realized he was losing consciousness.
Then, abruptly, the hands released him and he fell to the ground, onto a bed of damp and moldering oak leaves. Gasping for breath, he painfully got to his hands and knees.
“You see, little brother, I’m stronger than you. Strong enough to take you, take your blood and your life if I wish it. Leave Elena to me, or I will.”
Stefan looked up. Damon was standing with head thrown back, legs slightly apart, like a conqueror putting his foot on the neck of the conquered. Those night-black eyes were hot with triumph, and Stefan’s blood was on his lips.
Hatred filled Stefan, such hatred as he had never known before. It was as if all his earlier hatred of Damon had been a drop of water to this crashing, foaming ocean. Many times in the last long centuries he had regretted what he had done to his brother, when he’d wished with all his soul to change it. Now he only wanted to do it again.
“Elena is not yours,” he ground out, getting to his feet, trying not to show what an effort it cost him. “And she never will be.” Concentrating on each step, putting one foot in front of the other, he began walking away. His entire body hurt, and the shame he felt was even greater than the physical ache. There were bits of wet leaves and crumbs of earth adhering to his clothes, but he did not brush them off. He fought to keep moving, to hold out against the weakness that lapped at his limbs.
You never learn, brother.
Stefan did not look back or try to reply. He gritted his teeth and kept his legs moving. Another step. And another step. And another step.
If he could just sit down for a moment, rest…
Another step, and another step. The car couldn’t be far now. Leaves crackled under his feet, and then he heard leaves crackle behind him.
He tried to turn quickly, but his reflexes were almost gone. And the sharp motion was too much for him. Darkness filled him, filled his body and his mind, and he was falling. He fell forever into the black of absolute night. And then, mercifully, he knew no more.
Chapter Sixteen
Elena hurried toward Robert E. Lee, feeling as if she’d been away from it for years. Last night seemed like something from her distant childhood, barely remembered. But she knew that today there would be its consequences to face.
Last night she’d had to face Aunt Judith. Her aunt had been terribly upset when neighbors had told her about the murder, and even more upset that no one seemed to know where Elena was. By the time Elena had arrived home at nearly two in the morning, she had been frantic with worry.
Elena hadn’t been able to explain. She could only say that she’d been with Stefan, and that she knew he had been accused, and that she knew was innocent. All the rest, everything else that had happened, she had had to keep to herself. Even if Aunt Judith had believed it, she would never have understood.
And this morning Elena had slept in, and now she was late. The streets were deserted except for her, as she hurried on toward the school. Overhead,, the sky was gray and a wind was rising. She desperately wanted to see Stefan. All night, while she’d been sleeping so heavily, she’d had nightmares about him.
One dream had been especially real. In it she saw Stefan’s pale face and his angry, accusing eyes. He held up a book to her and said, “How could you, Elena? How could you?” Then he dropped the book at her feet and walked away. She called after him, pleading, but he went on walking until he disappeared in darkness. When she looked down at the book, she saw it was bound in dark blue velvet. Her diary.
A quiver of anger went through her as she thought again of how her diary had been stolen. But what did the dream mean? What was in her diary to make Stefan look like that?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she needed to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms around her. Being away from him was like being separated from her own flesh.
She ran up the steps of the high school into the nearly empty corridors. She headed toward the foreign-language wing, because she knew that Stefan’s first class was Latin. If she could just see him for a moment, she would be all right.
But he wasn’t in class. Through the little window in the door, she saw his empty seat. Matt was there, and the expression on his face made her feel more frightened than ever. He kept glancing at Stefan’s desk with a look of sick apprehension.
Elena turned away from the door mechanically. Like an automaton, she climbed the stairs and walked to her trigonometry classroom. As she opened the door, she saw every face turn toward her, and she slipped hastily into the empty desk beside Meredith.
Ms. Halpern stopped the lesson for a moment and looked at her, then continued. When the teacher had turned back to the blackboard, Elena looked at Meredith.
Meredith reached over to take her hand. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” said Elena stupidly. She felt as if the very air around her was smothering her, as if there were a crushing weight all around her. Meredith’s fingers felt dry and hot. “Meredith, do you know what’s happened to Stefan?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Meredith’s dark eyes widened, and Elena felt the weight grow even more crushing. It was like being deep, deep under water without a pressure suit.
“They haven’t… arrested him, have they?” she said, forcing the words out.
“Elena, it’s worse than that. He’s disappeared. The police went to the boarding house early this morning and he wasn’t there. They came to school, too, but he never showed up today. They said they’d found his car abandoned out by Old Creek Road. Elena, they think he’s left, skipped town, because he’s guilty.”
“That’s not true,” said Elena through her teeth. She saw people turn around and look at her, but she was beyond caring. “He’s innocent!”
“I know you think so, Elena, but why else would he leave?”
“He wouldn’t. He didn’t.” Something was burning inside Elena, a fire of anger that pushed back at the crushing fear. She was breathing raggedly. “He would never have left of his own free will.”
“You mean someone forced him? But who? Tyler wouldn’t dare—”
“Forced him, or worse,” Elena interrupted. The entire class was staring at them now, and Ms. Halpern was opening her mouth. Elena stood up suddenly, looking at them without seeing. “God help him if he’s hurt Stefan,” she said. “God help him.” Then she whirled and made for the door.
“Elena, come back! Elena!” She could hear shouts behind her, Meredith’s and Ms. Halpern’s. She walked on, faster and faster, seeing only what was straight ahead of her, her mind fixed on one thing.
They thought she was going after Tyler Smallwood. Good. They could waste their time running in the wrong direction. She knew what she had to do.
She left the school, plunging into the cold autumn air. She moved quickly, legs eating up the distance between the school and the Old Creek Road. From there she turned toward Wickery Bridge and the graveyard.
An icy wind whipped her hair back and stung her face. Oak leaves were flying around her, swirling in the air. But the conflagration in her heart was searing hot and burned away the cold. She knew now what a towering rage meant. She strode past the purple beeches and the weeping willows into the center of the old graveyard and looked around her with feverish eyes.