by L. J. Smith
“I will stop it, Katherine. I will protect you to the death. I swear it.”
24
September 25, 1864
They say love can conquer all. But can it conquer Father’s belief that Katherine and those like her are demons—devils?
I do not exaggerate when I say Katherine is an angel. She saved my life—and Anna’s. Father must know the truth. Once he does, he will be unable to deny Katherine’s goodness. It is my duty as a Salvatore to stay true to my convictions and to the ones I love.
Now is the time for action, not doubt. Confidence courses through my veins. I will make Father understand the truth—that we are all the same. And with that truth will come love. Father will call off the siege.
This I swear on my name and my life.
For the rest of the day, I sat at my desk in my bedroom, glancing at an empty notebook as I contemplated what to do. If Father knew Katherine was a vampire, he’d call off the hunt. He had to. I’d seen him laugh with Katherine, attempt to impress her with stories of his boyish antics back in Italy, and treat her as he’d have treated a daughter. Katherine gave my father a vigor I’d never seen in him. She gave my father life.
But how could I persuade him of this, when he so deeply despised demons? Then again, Father was rational. Logical. Maybe he could learn what Katherine had already taught me: that vampires weren’t all evil. They walked among us, they cried human tears; all they wanted was a true home—and to be loved.
Finally, I steeled my courage and stood up, closing the notebook with an abrupt clap. This wasn’t a schoolboy’s assignment, and I didn’t need notes to speak from my heart. I was ready to speak to Father man to man. After all, I was nearly eighteen, and he was planning to leave me Veritas.
I took a deep breath and walked down the winding staircase, through the quiet living room, and knocked sharply on the door to Father’s study.
“Come in!” Father’s muffled voice called. Before I had even put my hand on the knob, Father swung the door open himself. He wore a tailored jacket, with a sprig of vervain in the lapel, but I noticed that instead of being clean shaven, he sported salt-and-pepper stubble and his eyes were bloodshot and hooded.
“I didn’t see you last night at the ball,” Father said as he ushered me into his study. “I hope you weren’t part of that noisy, careless mob.”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously, feeling a flicker of hope. Did this mean Father was no longer planning an attack?
“Good.” Father sat at his oak desk and slammed his leather-bound book shut. Beneath it, I could see complicated drawings and diagrams of the town, with X’s over certain buildings, including the apothecary. And just like that, the flicker of hope was extinguished, and cold, hard fear took up residence in its place.
Father followed my gaze. “As you can see, our plans are much more thought-out than that foolish brigade of drunks and boys. Luckily Sheriff Forbes and his team put a stop to them, and none of them will be welcome at our own siege.” Father sighed and steepled his fingers together. “We’re living in dangerous and uncertain times, and your actions need to reflect that.” His dark eyes softened for a second. “I just want to make sure your decisions, at least, are prudent.” He didn’t add “unlike Damon’s,” but he didn’t have to. I knew that was what he was thinking.
“So the siege …”
“Will happen next week as planned.”
“What about the compass?” I asked, remembering the conversation with Katherine.
Father smiled. “It works. Jonathan’s been tinkering with it.”
“Oh.” A wave of horror rushed through me. If it worked, then that meant there was no doubt Father would find Katherine. “How do you know that it works?”
Father smiled and rolled up his papers. “Because it does,” he said simply.
“Can I talk to you about something?” I asked, hoping my voice betrayed none of my nerves. An image of Katherine’s face flashed in my head, giving me the strength to lock eyes with Father.
“Of course. Sit down, Stefan,” Father commanded. I perched in the leather wingback chair near the bookshelves. He stood up and walked over to the decanter of brandy on the corner table. He poured a glass for himself, then one for me.
I took the tumbler and held it to my lips, taking a tiny, almost imperceptible sip of the liquid. Then I steeled my courage and stared straight at him. “I have concerns about your plan for the vampires.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Father leaned back against his chair.
I nervously took a large gulp of brandy. “We’re making the assumption that they’re as evil as they’ve been characterized. But what if that’s not true?” I asked, willing myself to meet Father’s gaze.
Father snorted. “Have you any evidence to the contrary?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. But why take what people say at face value? You taught us differently.”
Father sighed and walked to his decanter, pouring more brandy. “Why? Because these creatures are from the darkest parts of hell. They know how to control your mind, seduce your spirit. They are deadly, and they need to be destroyed.”
I glanced down at the amber liquid in my glass. It was as dark and murky as my thoughts.
Father tipped his glass to me. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, son, that those who stand with them, those who bring shame to their families, will be destroyed as well.”
A chill went up my spine, but I held his gaze. “Anyone who stands with evil should be destroyed. But I hardly think it’s prudent to assume that all vampires are evil just because they happen to be vampires. You always taught us to see the good in people, to think for ourselves. The last thing this town needs, when there have already been so many deaths from the war, is more senseless killing,” I said, remembering Pearl and Anna’s terrified expressions in the woods. “The Founders need to rethink the plan. I’ll come to the next meeting with you. I know I haven’t been as involved as I could have been, but I’m ready to take on my responsibilities.”
Father sank back into his chair, leaning his head against the wooden back. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. For several long moments he remained in that posture.
I waited, every muscle in my body coiled to receive the angry flurry of words that was sure to fly from his mouth. I stared dejectedly into my glass. I had failed. I had failed Katherine, Pearl, and Anna. I had failed at securing my own happy future.
Finally, Father’s eyes snapped open. To my surprise, he nodded. “I suppose I could give the matter some thought.”
Cool relief flooded my body, as if I’d just jumped into the pond on a scorching summer day. He would give the matter some thought! To some, that might not seem to be much, but from my stubborn father, it meant everything. It meant there was a chance. A chance to stop sneaking around in the dark. A chance for Katherine to remain safe. For us to be together, forever.
Father lifted his glass to me. “To family.”
“To family,” I echoed.
Then Father drained the rest of his glass, which compelled me to do the same.
25
Excitement coursed through my veins as I stole out of the house, across the dew-dropped lawn, and toward the carriage house. I slid past Emily, who held the door open for me, and bounded up the stairs. I no longer needed the candle to find my way to Katherine. There, in the bedroom, she was wearing her simple cotton nightdress and absentmindedly swinging a crystal necklace that sparkled in the moonlight.
“I think Father may be persuaded to call off the siege. At least he’s willing to talk. I know I’ll be able to change his mind,” I exclaimed, twirling her around the room.
I expected her to clap with glee, for her smile to mirror my own. But instead Katherine disengaged herself from my grip and placed the crystal on her nightstand.
“I knew you were the man for the job,” she said, not looking at me.
“Better than Damon?” I asked, unable to resist.
Finally Katherine smiled. �
�You need to stop comparing yourself to Damon.” She stepped closer to me and grazed my cheek with her lips. I shivered with pleasure as Katherine pulled my body toward hers. I held her tightly, feeling her back through the thin cotton of her nightdress.
She kissed my lips, then my jaw, running her lips, feather light, down the curve of my neck. I moaned and pulled her even closer, needing to feel all of her against all of me. Then she plunged her teeth into my neck. I let out a strangled gasp of pain and ecstasy as I felt her teeth inside my skin, felt her draw blood from me. It felt as though a thousand knives were piercing my neck. Still I held her more tightly, wanting to feel her mouth on my skin, wanting to fully submit myself to the pain that fed her.
Just as suddenly as she bit me, Katherine broke away, her dark eyes on fire, agony etched on her face. A small stream of blood trickled from the corner of her lip, and her mouth twisted in excruciating pain. “Vervain,” she gasped, stepping backward until she collapsed on the bed in pain. “What have you done?”
“Katherine!” I put my hands to her chest, my lips to her mouth, trying desperately to heal her the way she had healed me back in the forest. But she pushed me away, writhing on the bed, clutching her hands to her mouth. It was as if she were being tortured by an unseen hand. Tears of agony spilled from her eyes.
“Why did you do this?” Katherine clutched her throat and closed her eyes, her breath slowing into guttural gasps. Every anguished cry from Katherine felt like a small stake in my own heart.
“I didn’t! Father!” I shouted as the dizzying events of that evening occurred to me. My brandy. Father. He knew.
There was a clatter from downstairs, and then Father burst in.
“Vampire!” he roared, holding up a crudely made stake. Katherine writhed on the floor in pain, shrieking in a high-pitched tone I’d never heard before.
“Father!” I shouted, holding my hands up as he used his boot to prod Katherine. She moaned, her arms and legs kicking in opposite directions.
“Katherine!” I fell to my knees and held Katherine’s body close in my arms. She shrieked, her eyes rolling back so all I could see was white. Foam appeared at the corner of her blood-caked lips, as though she were a rabid animal. I gaped in horror and let go, her body falling to the floor with a sickening thud.
I inched back, sitting on my heels and gazing at the ceiling as if in prayer. I couldn’t face Katherine, and I couldn’t face Father.
Katherine let out another high-pitched wail as Father prodded her with his stake. She reared up—foaming at the mouth, her fangs bared, her eyes wild and unseeing—before falling back in a writhing pile.
Bile rose in my throat. Who was this monster?
“Get up.” Father dragged me to my feet. “Don’t you see, Stefan? Don’t you see her true nature?”
I gazed down at Katherine. Her dark curls were matted to her forehead by sweat, her dark eyes were wide and bloodshot, her teeth were covered with foam, and her entire body was shaking. I didn’t recognize any part of her.
“Go get Sheriff Forbes. Tell him we have a vampire.”
I stood transfixed in horror, unable to take a step in any direction. My head pounded, my thoughts whirled in a confused tangle. I loved Katherine. Loved her. Right? So why now did this … creature disgust me?
“I did not raise my sons to be weak,” Father roared, shoving a bundle of vervain in my shirt pocket. “Now go!”
My breath came in deep rasps. The heat was suddenly stifling, unbearable. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand being in that room for one second longer. Without a backward glance at my father or at the vampire writhing on the floor, I rushed out of the house, taking the steps three at a time, and raced for the road.
26
I cannot say how long I ran. The night was clear and cold, and my heart felt as though it were pounding in my neck, in my brain, in my feet. I occasionally pressed my hand to the wound on my neck, which was still bleeding. The area was warm to the touch, and I felt dizzy whenever I put my hand on it.
With each footstep, a new image appeared in my head: Katherine, bloodstained foam collecting at the corner of her mouth; Father, standing above her with a stake. Memories blurred, so I wasn’t sure whether the red-eyed, shrieking monster who was on the floor was the same person who’d lunged at me with her teeth, who’d caressed me in the pond, who haunted my dreams and my waking hours. I shivered uncontrollably and lost my footing, tripping over a felled branch. I landed on the dirt, on my hands and knees, and retched repeatedly, until the iron-like taste in my mouth disappeared.
Katherine was about to die. Father hated me. I didn’t know who I was, or what I should be doing. The entire world was turned upside down, and I felt dizzy and weak, sure that no matter what I did, I would cause destruction. This was all my fault. All of it. If I hadn’t lied to Father and kept Katherine’s secret …
I forced myself to catch my breath, then stood up and began running again.
As I ran, the scent of the vervain in my pocket filled my nostrils. Its sweet, earthy fragrance wafted through my body, seeming to clear my head and imbue my limbs with a wakeful energy. I turned left on the dirt path, surprised at the course I was choosing, but for the first time in weeks, I felt certain about my actions.
I burst into the sheriff’s office, where Sheriff Forbes sat with his feet up on the desk, asleep. In the one holding cell, the town drunk, Jeremiah Black, was snoring loudly, obviously sleeping off a bad night at the saloon. Noah, a young officer, was also nodding off on a wooden chair outside the cell.
“Vampires! There are vampires at Veritas!” I yelled, causing Sheriff Forbes and Jeremiah to simultaneously snap to attention.
“Let’s go. Follow me,” Sheriff Forbes said, grabbing a club and a musket. “Noah!” he yelled. “Get the wagon and follow behind with Stefan.”
“Yes, sir,” Noah said, jumping to his feet. He pulled a club from a hook on the wall and passed it to me. Just then, I heard a piercing noise, and I realized that Sheriff Forbes was ringing the alarm outside the sheriff’s office. The bell clanged over and over again.
“I can help. Please?” Jeremiah slurred, both hands on the bars. Noah shook his head and hurriedly ran through the building, his boots echoing against the wooden floor beams. I followed him, stopping to watch as he hastily hitched two horses to a long iron wagon.
“Come on!” Noah called impatiently, holding his whip.
I jumped up onto the seat next to Noah and watched as he cracked the whip, causing the horses to gallop at breakneck speed down the hill and into town. People were standing outside their houses in nightclothes and rubbing their eyes, some hitching horses to wagons and coaches.
“Attack at the Salvatore estate!” Noah called, over and over again, until his voice almost broke. I knew I should help. But I couldn’t. Instead, I felt fear grip my heart as the wind whipped my face. I heard the clip-clopping of horses in the distance, and saw doors being flung open and more townspeople in their nightclothes hastily grabbing rifles, bayonets, and any other weapon they could find. As we galloped through town, I noticed the apothecary was closed tightly. Could Anna and Pearl be at home? If so, I needed to give them a warning.
No. The word came so strongly, it was as if my father had whispered it in my ear himself. I needed to make things right for me, for the Salvatore name. The only people I cared about were Father and Damon, and if anything happened to them …
“Attack at the Salvatore estate!” I yelled, my voice breaking.
“Attack at the Salvatore estate!” Noah repeated, his words sounding like a chant. I looked up at the sky. The moon was a tiny sliver, and clouds obscured any hint of starlight. But suddenly, as we rode up the hill, I saw Veritas lit up like morning, with a mob of what looked like a hundred people brandishing torches and standing on the steps of the porch, yelling.
Pastor Collins stood on the porch swing, calling out prayers, as several people watched him, kneel
ing on the ground and praying. Next to him was Honoria Fells, yelling to anyone who would listen about demons and repentance. Old Man Robinson was brandishing his torch and threatening to burn down the entire estate.
“Stefan!” Honoria called as I jumped off the wagon before it stopped. “For your protection,” she said, proffering a branch of vervain.
“Excuse me,” I called hoarsely, as I pushed through the horde, using my elbows, and ran to the carriage house and up the stairs. I heard angry voices from the chambers.
“I will take her! We’ll leave, and you won’t see either of us again!” Damon’s voice, as low and ominous as incoming thunder.
“Ungrateful!” Father roared, and I heard a sickening crack. I bounded up the stairs and saw Damon, slumped against the doorway, a trickle of blood oozing from his temple. The door had cracked from the impact of Damon’s body.
“Damon!” I called, falling onto my knees next to my brother. Damon tried to struggle to his feet. I winced as I saw the blood flooding from his temple. When he turned toward me, his eyes blazed with anger.
Father stood, stake in hand. “Thank you for getting the sheriff, Stefan. You did the right thing. Unlike your brother.” Father reached out toward him, and I gasped, sure he would hit him again. But instead he stretched out his hand. “Stand up, Damon.”
Damon slapped away Father’s hand. He stood on his own, wiping the blood from his head with the back of his hand.
“Damon. Listen to me,” Father continued, ignoring the look of pure hatred on Damon’s face. “You were bewitched by the demon … by that Katherine. But now she will disappear and you must side with what’s right. I showed you mercy, but these people …” He gestured toward the window and the angry mob beyond it.
