The vampire diaries - еnglish

Заглавие: The vampire diaries - еnglish Сря Яну 20, 2010 2:24 am

The Awakening

September 4

Dear Diary,

~~Something awful is going to happen today.~~
I don't know why I wrote that. It's crazy. There's no reason for me to be upset and every reason
for me to be happy, but…
But here I am at 5:30 in the morning, awake and scared. I keep telling myself it's just that I'm all
messed up from the time difference between France and here. But that doesn't explain why I feel
so scared. So lost.
The day before yesterday, while Aunt Judith and Margaret and I were driving back from the
airport, I had such a strange feeling. When we turned onto our street I suddenly thought, "Mom
and Dad are waiting for us at home. I bet they'll be on the front porch or in the living room
looking out the window. They must have missed me so much."

I know. That sounds totally crazy.
But even when I saw the house and the empty front porch I still felt that way. I ran up the steps
and I tried the door and knocked with the knocker. And when Aunt Judith unlocked the door I
burst inside and just stood in the hallway listening, expecting to hear Mom coming down the stairs
or Dad calling from the den.
Just then Aunt Judith let a suitcase crash down on the floor behind me and sighed a huge sigh and
said, "We're home." And Meredith laughed. And the most horrible feeling I've ever felt in my life
came over me. I've never felt so utterly and completely lost.
Home. I'm home. Why does that sound like a he?

I was born here in Fell's Church. I've always lived in this house, always. This is my same old
bedroom, with the scorch mark on the floorboards where Caroline and I tried to sneak cigarettes
in 5th grade and nearly choked ourselves. I can look out the window and see the big quince tree
Matt and the guys climbed up to crash my birthday slumber party two years ago. This is my bed,
my chair, my dresser.
But right now everything looks strange to me, as if I don't belong here. It's me that's out of place.
And the worst thing is that I feel there's somewhere I do belong, but I just can't find it.
I was too tired yesterday to go to Orientation.
Margaret picked up my schedule for me, but I didn't feel like talking to her on the phone. Aunt
Judith told everyone who called that I had jet lag and was sleeping, but she watched me at dinner
with a funny look on her face.

I've got to see the crowd today, though. We're supposed to meet in the parking lot before school.
Is that why I'm scared? Am I frightened of them?
Elena Gilbert stopped writing. She stared at the last line she had written and then shook her head, pen
hovering over the small book with the blue velvet cover. Then, with a sudden gesture, she lifted her head
and threw pen and book at the big bay window, where they bounced off harmlessly and landed on the
upholstered window seat.
It was all so completely ridiculous.
Since when had she, Elena Gilbert, been scared of meeting people? Since when had she been scared of
anything? She stood up and angrily thrust her arms into a red silk kimono. She didn't even glance at the
elaborate Victorian mirror above the cherrywood dresser; she knew what she'd see. Elena Gilbert, cool
and blond and slender, the fashion trendsetter, the high school senior, the girl every boy wanted and
every girl wanted to be. Who just now had an unaccustomed scowl on her face and a pinch to her
mouth.
A hot bath and some coffee and I'll calm down, she thought. The morning ritual of washing and dressing
was soothing, and she dawdled over it, sorting through her new outfits from Paris. She finally chose a
pale rose top and white linen shorts combo that made her look like a raspberry sundae. Good enough to
eat, she thought, and the mirror showed a girl with a secret smile. Her earlier fears had melted away,
forgotten.
"Elena! Where are you? You're going to be late for school!" The voice drifted faintly up from below.
Elena ran the brush one more time through silky hair and pulled it back with a deep rose ribbon. Then she
grabbed her backpack and went down the stairs.
In the kitchen, four-year-old Margaret was eating cereal at the kitchen table, and Aunt Judith was
burning something on the stove. Aunt Judith was the sort of woman who always looked vaguely flustered;
she had a thin, mild face and light flyaway hair pushed back untidily. Elena landed a peck on her cheek.
"Good morning, everybody. Sorry I don't have time for breakfast."
"But, Elena, you can't just go off without eating. You need your protein—"
"I'll get a doughnut before school," said Elena briskly. She dropped a kiss on Margaret's tow head and

turned to go.
"But, Elena—"
"And I'll probably go home with Bonnie or Margaret after school, so don't wait dinner. Bye!"
"Elena—"
Elena was already at the front door. She closed it behind her, cutting off Aunt Judith's distant protests,
and stepped out onto the front porch.
And stopped.
All the bad feelings of the morning rushed over her again. The anxiety, the fear. And the certainty that
something terrible was about to happen.
Maple Street was deserted. The tall Victorian houses looked strange and silent, as if they might all be
empty inside, like the houses on an abandoned movie set. They looked as if they were empty of people,
but full of strange watching things.
That was it; something was watching her. The sky overhead was not blue but milky and opaque, like a
giant bowl turned upside down.
The air was stifling, and Elena felt sure that there were eyes on her.
She caught sight of something dark in the branches of the old quince tree in front of the house.
It was a crow, sitting as still as the yellow-tinged leaves around it. And it was the thing watching her.

She tried to tell herself that this was ridiculous, but somehow she knew. It was the biggest crow she had
ever seen, plump and sleek, with rainbows shining in its black feathers. She could see every detail of it
clearly: the greedy dark claws, the sharp beak, the single glittering black eye.
It was so motionless that it might have been a wax model of a bird sitting there. But as she stared at it,
Elena felt herself flush slowly, heat coming in waves up her throat and cheeks. Because it was… looking
at her. Looking the way boys looked at her when she wore a bathing suit or a sheer blouse. As if it were
undressing her with its eyes.
Before she realized what she was doing, she had dropped her backpack and picked up a stone from
beside the driveway. "Get out of here," she said, and heard the shaking anger in her own voice. "Go on!
Get away!" With the last word, she threw the stone.
There was an explosion of leaves, but the crow soared up unharmed. Its wings were huge, and they
made enough racket for a whole flock of crows. Elena crouched, suddenly panicked as it flapped directly
over her head, the wind of its wings ruffling her blond hair.
But it swooped up again and circled, a black silhouette against the paper-white sky. Then, with one harsh
croak, it wheeled away toward the woods.
Elena straightened up slowly, then glanced around, self-conscious. She couldn't believe what she had just
done. But now that the bird was gone, the sky felt ordinary again. A little wind made the leaves flutter,
and Elena took a deep breath. Down the street a door opened and several children poured out, laughing.
She smiled at them, and took another breath, relief sweeping through her like sunlight. How could she
have been so silly? This was a beautiful day, full of promise, and nothing bad was going to happen.

Nothing bad was going to happen—except that she was going to be late getting to school. The whole
crowd would be waiting for her in the parking lot.
You could always tell everyone you stopped to throw stones at a Peeping Tom, she thought, and almost
giggled. Now, that would give them something to think about.
Without a backward glance at the quince tree, she began to walk as quickly as she could down the
street.
The crow crashed through the top of the massive oak, and Stefan's head jerked up reflexively. When he
saw it was only a bird, he relaxed.
His eyes dropped to the limp white form in his hands, and he felt his face twist in regret. He hadn't meant
to kill it. He would have hunted something larger than a rabbit if he'd known how hungry he was. But, of
course, that was the very thing that frightened him: never knowing how strong the hunger would be, or
what he might have to do to satisfy it. He was lucky that this time he'd killed only a rabbit.
He stood beneath the ancient oak trees, sunlight filtering down onto his curly hair. In jeans and T-shirt,
Stefan Salvatore looked exactly like a normal high school student.
He wasn't.
Deep in the woods, where no one would see him, he'd come to feed. Now he licked at his gums and lips
painstakingly, to make sure there was no stain on them. He didn't want to take any chances. This
masquerade was going to be hard enough to pull off as it was.
For a moment he wondered, again, if he should just give it all up. Perhaps he should go back to Italy,
back to his hiding place. What made him think that he could rejoin the world of daylight?
But he was tired of living in shadows. He was tired of the darkness, and of the things that lived in it. Most
of all, he was tired of being alone.

He wasn't sure why he'd chosen Fell's Church, Virginia. It was a young town, by his standards; the oldest
buildings had been put up only a century and a half ago. But memories and ghosts of the Civil War still
lived here, as real as the supermarkets and fast-food joints.
Stefan appreciated respect for the past. He thought he might come to like the people of Fell's Church.
And perhaps—just perhaps—he might find a place among them.
He'd never be accepted completely, of course. A bitter smile curved his lips at the idea. He knew better
than to hope for that. There would never be a place where he could belong completely, where he could
truly be himself.
Unless he chose to belong to the shadows…
He slapped the thought away. He'd renounced the darkness; he'd left the shadows behind him. He was
blotting all those long years out and starting afresh, today.
Stefan realized he was still holding the rabbit. Gently, he laid it down on the bed of brown oak leaves.
Far away, too far for human ears to pick up, he recognized the noises of a fox.
Come along, brother hunter, he thought sadly. Your breakfast is waiting.
As he slung his jacket over his shoulder, he noticed the crow that had disturbed him earlier. It was still
perched in the oak tree, and it seemed to be watching him. There was a wrongness about it.
He started to send a probing thought toward it, to examine the bird, and stopped himself. Remember
your promise, he thought. You don't use the Powers unless it is absolutely necessary. Not unless there is
no other choice.
Moving almost silently among the dead leaves and dry twigs, he made his way toward the edge of the
woods. His car was parked there. He glanced back, once, and saw that the crow had left the branches
and dropped down on the rabbit.
There was something sinister in the way it spread its wings over the limp white body, something sinister
and triumphant. Stefan's throat tightened, and he almost strode back to chase the bird away. Still, it had
as much right to eat as the fox did, he told himself.
As much right as he did.
If he encountered the bird again, he'd look into its mind, he decided. Just now, he tore his eyes from the
sight of it and hurried on through the woods, jaw set. He didn't want to be late arriving at Robert E. Lee
High School.

Chapter Two

Elena was surrounded the instant she stepped into the high school parking lot. Everyone was there, the
whole crowd she hadn't seen since late June, plus four or five hangers-on who hoped to gain popularity
by association. One by one she accepted the welcoming hugs of her own group.
Caroline had grown at least an inch and was slinkier and more like a Vogue model than ever. She
greeted Elena coolly and stepped back again with her green eyes narrowed like a cat's.
Bonnie hadn't grown at all, and her curly red head barely came up to Elena's chin as she flung her arms
around Elena. Wait a minute—curls? thought Elena. She pushed the smaller girl back.
"Bonnie! What did you do to your hair?"
"Do you like it? I think it makes me look taller." Bonnie fluffed up the already fluffy bangs and smiled, her
brown eyes sparkling with excitement, her little heart-shaped face alight.
Elena moved on. "Meredith. You haven't changed at all."
This hug was equally warm on both sides. She had missed Meredith more than anyone, Elena thought,
looking at the tall girl. Meredith never wore any makeup; but then, with perfect olive skin and heavy
black lashes, she didn't need any. Right now she had one elegant eyebrow raised as she studied Elena.
"Well, your hair is two shades lighter from the sun… But where's your tan? I thought you were living it up
on the French Riviera."
"You know I never tan." Elena held up her hands for her own inspection. The skin was flawless, like

porcelain, but almost as fair and translucent as Bonnie's.
"Just a minute; that reminds me," Bonnie interjected, snatching one of Elena's hands. "Guess what I
learned from my cousin this summer?" Before anyone could speak, she informed them triumphantly:
"Palm reading!"
There were groans, and some laughter.
"Laugh while you can," said Bonnie, not at all disturbed. "My cousin told me I'm psychic. Now, let me
see…" She peered into Elena's palm.
"Hurry up or we're going to be late," said Elena a bit impatiently.
"All right, all right. Now, this is your life line—or is it your heart line?" In the crowd, someone snickered.
"Quiet; I'm reaching into the void. I see… I see…" All at once, Bonnie's face went blank, as if she were
startled. Her brown eyes widened, but she no longer seemed to be staring at Elena's hand. It was as if
she were looking through it—at something frightening.
"You will meet a tall, dark stranger," Meredith murmured from behind her. There was a flurry of giggles.
"Dark, yes, and a stranger… but not tall." Bonnie's voice was hushed and faraway.
"Although," she continued after a moment, looking puzzled, "he was tall, once." Her wide brown eyes
lifted to Elena's in bewilderment. "But that's impossible… isn't it?" She dropped Elena's hand, almost
flinging it away. "I don't want to see any more."
"Okay, show's over. Let's go," Elena told the others, vaguely irritated. She'd always felt psychic tricks
were just that—tricks. So why was she annoyed? Just because that morning she'd almost freaked out
herself…
The girls started toward the school building, but the roar of a finely tuned motor stopped them all in their
tracks.
"Well, now," Caroline said, staring. "Quite a car."
"Quite a Porsche," Meredith corrected dryly.
The sleek black 911 Turbo purred through the parking lot, searching for a space, moving as lazily as a
panther stalking prey.
When the car came to a stop, the door opened, and they glimpsed the driver.
"Oh, my God," Caroline whispered.
"You can say that again," breathed Bonnie.
From where she stood, Elena could see he had a lean, flat-muscled body. Faded jeans he probably had
to peel off at night, tight T-shirt, and a leather jacket of unusual cut. His hair was wavy—and dark.
He wasn't tall, though. Just average height.
Elena let out her breath.
"Who is that masked man?" said Meredith. And the remark was apt—dark sunglasses completely
covered the boy's eyes, shielding his face like a mask.

"That masked stranger," someone else said, and a babble of voices rose up.
"Do you see that jacket? That's Italian, as in Roma."
"How would you know? You've never been farther than Rome, New York, in your life!"
"Uh-oh. Elena's got that look again. The hunting look."
"Short-Dark-and-Handsome had better be careful."
"He isn't short; he's perfect!"
Through the chatter, Caroline's voice suddenly rang out. "Oh, come on, Elena. You've already got Matt.
What more do you want? What can you do with two that you can't do with one?"
"The same thing—only longer," drawled Meredith, and the group dissolved into laughter.
The boy had locked his car and was walking toward school. Casually, Elena started after him, the other
girls right behind her in a close-knit pack. For an instant, annoyance bubbled up inside her. Couldn't she
go anywhere without a parade on her heels? But Meredith caught her eye, and she smiled in spite of
herself.
"Noblesse oblige," Meredith said softly.
"What?"
"If you're going to be queen of the school, you have to put up with the consequences."
Elena frowned at this as they entered the building. A long corridor stretched before them, and a figure in
jeans and leather jacket was disappearing through the office doorway up ahead. Elena slowed her pace
as she walked up to the office, finally stopping to glance thoughtfully at the messages on the cork bulletin
board by the door. There was a large window here, through which the entire office was visible.
The other girls were openly gazing through the window, and giggling. "Nice rear view." "That is definitely
an Armani jacket." "You think he's from out of state?"
Elena was straining her ears for the boy's name. There seemed to be some kind of trouble in there: Mrs.
Clarke, the admissions secretary, was looking at a list and shaking her head. The boy said something,
and Mrs. Clarke lifted her hands in a "What can I say?" gesture. She ran a finger down the list and shook
her head again, conclusively. The boy started to turn away, then turned back. And when Mrs. Clarke
looked up at him, her expression changed.
The boy's sunglasses were now in his hand. Mrs. Clarke seemed startled by something; Elena could see
her blink several times. Her lips opened and closed as if she were trying to speak.
Elena wished she could see more than the back of the boy's head. Mrs. Clarke was fumbling through
piles of paper now, looking dazed. At last she found a form of some kind and wrote on it, then turned it
around and pushed it toward the boy.
The boy wrote briefly on the form—signing it, probably—and returned it. Mrs. Clarke stared at it a
second, then fumbled through a new pile of papers, finally handing what looked like a class schedule to
him. Her eyes never left the boy as he took it, inclined his head in thanks, and turned to the door.
Elena was wild with curiosity by now. What had just happened in there? And what did this stranger's
face look like? But as he emerged from the office, he was settling his sunglasses in place again.

Disappointment coursed through her.
Still, she could see the rest of his face as he paused in the doorway. The dark curly hair framed features
so fine that they might have been taken from an old Roman coin or medallion. High cheekbones, classical
straight nose… and a mouth to keep you awake at night, Elena thought. The upper lip was beautifully
sculpted, a little sensitive, a whole lot sensual. The chatter of the girls in the hallway had stopped as if
someone had thrown a switch.
Most of them were turning away from the boy now, looking anywhere but at him. Elena held her place by
the window and gave a little toss to her head, pulling the ribbon out of her hair so that it fell loose around
her shoulders.
Without looking to either side, the boy moved on down the hallway. A chorus of sighs and whispers
flared up the moment he was out of earshot.
Elena didn't hear any of it.
He'd walked right by her, she thought, dazed. Right by without a glance.
Dimly, she realized the bell was ringing. Meredith was tugging her arm.
"What?"
"I said here's your schedule. We've got trig on the second floor right now. Come on!"
Elena allowed Meredith to propel her down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a classroom. She
slid into an empty seat automatically and fixed her eyes on the teacher at the front without really seeing
her. The shock still hadn't worn off.
He'd walked right by. Without a glance. She couldn't remember how long it had been since a boy had
done that. They all looked, at least. Some whistled. Some stopped to talk. Some just stared.
And that had always been fine with Elena.
After all, what was more important than boys? They were the mark of how popular you were, of how
beautiful you were. And they could be useful for all sorts of things. Sometimes they were exciting, but
usually that didn't last long. Sometimes they were creeps from the beginning.
Most boys, Elena reflected, were like puppies. Adorable in their place, but expendable. A very few
could be more than that, could become real friends. Like Matt.
Oh, Matt. Last year she'd hoped that he was the one she was looking for, the boy who could make her
feel… well, something more. More than the rush of triumph at making a conquest, the pride in showing
your new acquisition off to the other girls. And she had come to feel a strong affection for Matt. But over
the summer, when she'd had time to think, she'd realized it was the affection of a cousin or sister.
Ms. Halpern was passing out trigonometry books. Elena took hers mechanically and wrote her name
inside, still wrapped in thought.
She liked Matt more than any other boy she'd known. And that was why she was going to have to tell
him it was over.
She hadn't known how to tell him in a letter. She didn't know how to tell him now. It wasn't that she was
afraid he'd kick up a fuss; he just wouldn't understand. She didn't really understand herself

It was as if she were always reaching for… something. Only, when she thought she'd got it, it wasn't
there. Not with Matt, not with any of the boys she'd had.
And then she had to start all over again. Fortunately, there was always fresh material. No boy had ever
resisted her successfully, and no boy had ever ignored her. Until now.
Until now. Remembering that moment in the hall, Elena found that her fingers were clenched on the pen
she held. She still couldn't believe he'd brushed by her that way.
The bell rang and everyone flooded out of the classroom, but Elena paused in the doorway. She bit her
lip, scanning the river of students flowing through the hall. Then she spotted one of the hangers-on from
the parking lot.
"Frances! Come here."
Frances came eagerly, her plain face brightening.
"Listen, Frances, you remember that boy this morning?"
"With the Porsche and the—er—assets? How could I forget?"
"Well, I want his class schedule. Get it from the office if you can, or copy it from him if you have to. But
do it!"
Frances looked surprised for a moment, then grinned and nodded. "Okay, Elena. I'll try. I'll meet you at
lunch if I can get it."
"Thanks." Elena watched the girl go.
"You know, you really are crazy," Meredith's voice said in her ear.
"What's the use of being queen of the school if you can't pull a little rank sometimes?" returned Elena
calmly. "Where do I go now?"
"General Business. Here, take it yourself." Meredith thrust a schedule at her. "I've got to run for
chemistry. Later!"
General Business and the rest of the morning passed in a blur. Elena had hoped to catch another glimpse
of the new student, but he was in none of her classes. Matt was in one, and she felt a pang as his blue
eyes met hers with a smile.
At the lunch bell, she nodded greetings right and left as she walked to the cafeteria. Caroline was outside,
posed casually against a wall with chin up, shoulders back, hips forward. The two boys she was talking
to fell silent and nudged each other as Elena approached.
"Hi," Elena said briefly to the boys; and to Caroline: "Ready to go in and eat?"
Caroline's green eyes barely flickered toward Elena, and she pushed glossy auburn hair out of her face.
"What, at the royal table?" she said.
Elena was taken aback. She and Caroline had been friends since kindergarten, and they had always
competed with each other good-naturedly. But lately something had happened to Caroline. She'd begun
to take the rivalry more and more seriously. And now Elena was surprised at the bitterness in the other
girl's voice.

"Well, it's hardly as if you were a commoner," she said lightly.
"Oh, you're so right about that," said Caroline, turning to face Elena fully. Those green cat-eyes were
slitted and smoky, and Elena was shocked by the hostility she saw there. The two boys smiled uneasily
and edged away.
Caroline didn't seem to notice. "A lot of things changed while you were gone this summer, Elena," she
continued. "And just maybe your time on the throne is running out."
Elena had flushed; she could feel it. She struggled to keep her voice steady. "Maybe," she said. "But I
wouldn't buy a scepter just yet if I were you, Caroline." She turned and went into the lunchroom.
It was a relief to see Meredith and Bonnie, and Frances beside them. Elena felt her cheeks cool as she
selected her lunch and went to join them. She wouldn't let Caroline upset her; she wouldn't think of
Caroline at all.
"I got it," said Frances, waving a piece of paper as Elena sat down.
"And I have some good stuff," said Bonnie importantly. "Elena, listen to this. He's in my biology class,
and I sit right across from him. And his name is Stefan, Stefan Salvatore, and he's from Italy, and he's
boarding with old Mrs. Flowers on the edge of town." She sighed. "He is so romantic. Caroline dropped
her books, and he picked them up for her."
Elena made a wry face. "How clumsy of Caroline. What else happened?"
"Well, that's all. He didn't really talk to her. He's ver-r-ry mysterious, you see. Mrs. Endicott, my biology
teacher, tried to get him to take off his glasses, but he wouldn't. He has a medical condition."
"What kind of medical condition?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's terminal and his days are numbered. Wouldn't that be romantic?"
"Oh, very," said Meredith.
Elena was looking over Frances's sheet of paper, biting her lip. "He's in my seventh period, History of
Europe. "Anybody else have that class?"
"I do," said Bonnie. "And I think Caroline does, too. Oh, and maybe Matt; he said something yesterday
about how it was just his luck, getting Mr. Tanner."
Marvelous, Elena thought, picking up a fork and stabbing at her mashed potatoes. It looked as if seventh
period was going to be extremely interesting.
Stefan was glad the school day was almost over. He wanted to get out of these crowded rooms and
corridors, just for a few minutes.
So many minds. The pressure of so many thought patterns, so many mental voices surrounding him, was
making him dizzy. It had been years since he had been in a swarm of people like this.
One mind in particular stood out from the others. She had been among those watching him in the main
corridor of the school building. He didn't know what she looked like, but her personality was powerful.
He felt sure he'd recognize it again.

So far, at least, he'd survived the first day of the masquerade. He'd used the Powers only twice, and then
sparingly. But he was tired, and, he admitted ruefully, hungry. The rabbit hadn't been enough.
Worry about that later. He found his last classroom and sat down. And immediately he felt the presence
of that mind again.
It glowed at the edge of his consciousness, a golden light, soft and yet vibrant. And, for the first time, he
could locate the girl it was coming from. She was seated right in front of him.
Even as he thought it, she turned around and he saw her face. It was all he could do not to gasp in shock.
Katherine! But of course it couldn't be. Katherine was dead; no one knew that better than he did.
Still, the resemblance was uncanny. That pale golden hair, so fair it almost seemed to shimmer. That
creamy skin, which had always made him think of swans, or alabaster, flushing faintly pink over the
cheekbones. And the eyes… Katherine's eyes had been a color he had never seen before; darker than
sky blue, as rich as the lapis lazuli in her jeweled headband. This girl had those same eyes.
And they were fixed directly on his as she smiled.
He looked down from the smile quickly. Of all things, he did not want to think about Katherine. He didn't
want to look at this girl who reminded him of her, and he didn't want to feel her presence any longer. He
kept his eyes on the desk, blocking his mind as strongly as he knew how. And at last, slowly, she turned
around again.
She was hurt. Even through the blocks, he could feel that. He didn't care. In fact, he was glad of it, and
he hoped it would keep her away from him. Other than that, he had no feelings about her at all.
He kept telling himself this as he sat, the droning voice of the teacher pouring over him unheard. But he
could smell a subtle hint of some perfume—violets, he thought. And her slender white neck was bowed
over her book, the fair hair falling on either side of it.
In anger and frustration he recognized the seductive feeling in his teeth—more a tickling or a tingling than
an ache. It was hunger, a specific hunger. And not one he was about to indulge.
The teacher was pacing about the room like a ferret, asking questions, and Stefan deliberately fixed his
attention on the man. At first he was puzzled, for although none of the students knew the answers, the
questions kept coming. Then he realized that that was the man's purpose. To shame the students with
what they didn't know.
Just now he'd found another victim, a small girl with clusters of red curls and a heart-shaped face. Stefan
watched in distaste as the teacher badgered her with questions. She looked wretched as he turned away
from her to address the entire class.
"You see what I mean? You think you're pretty hot stuff; you're seniors now, ready to graduate. Well, let
me tell you, some of you aren't ready to graduate kindergarten. Like this!" He gestured toward the
red-haired girl. "No idea about the French Revolution. Thinks Marie Antoinette was a silent film star."
Students all around Stefan were shifting uncomfortably. He could feel the resentment in their minds, and
the humiliation. And the fear. They were all afraid of this thin little man with eyes like a weasel, even the
husky boys who were taller than he was.
"All right, let's try another era." The teacher swung back to the same girl he'd been questioning. "During
the Renaissance—" He broke off. "You do know what the Renaissance is, don't you?

The period that produced so many of Europe's greatest artists and thinkers?" When
the girl nodded confusedly, he continued. "During the Renaissance, what would students your age be
doing at school? Well? Any idea at all? Any guesses?"
The girl swallowed hard. With a weak smile she said, "Playing football?"
At the ensuing laughter, the teacher's face darkened. "Hardly!" he snapped, and the classroom quieted.
"You think this is a joke? Well, in those days, students your age would already be proficient in several
languages. They would also have mastered logic, mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, and grammar.
They would be ready to go on to a university, in which every course was taught in Latin. Football would
be absolutely the last thing on—"
"Excuse me."
The quiet voice stopped the teacher in midharangue. Everyone turned to stare at Stefan.
"What? What did you say?"
"I said, excuse me," Stefan repeated, removing his glasses and standing up. "But you're wrong. Students
in the Renaissance were encouraged to participate in games. They were taught that a healthy body goes
with a healthy mind. And they certainly played team sports, like cricket, tennis—and even football." He
turned to the red-haired girl and smiled, and she smiled back gratefully. To the teacher, he added, "But
the most important things they learned were good manners and courtesy. I'm sure your book will tell you
that."
Students were grinning. The teacher's face was red with blood, and he was sputtering. But Stefan
continued to hold his eyes, and after another minute it was the teacher who looked away.
The bell rang.
Stefan put his glasses on quickly and gathered his books. He'd already drawn more attention to himself
than he should, and he didn't want to have to look at the blond girl again. Besides, he needed to get out
of here quickly; there was a familiar burning sensation in his veins.
As he reached the door, someone shouted, "Hey! Did they really play football back then?"
He couldn't help throwing a grin over his shoulder. "Oh, yes. Sometimes with the severed heads of
prisoners of war."
Elena watched him as he went. He'd deliberately turned away from her. He'd snubbed her on purpose,
and in front of Caroline, who'd been watching like a hawk. Tears burned in her eyes, but at that moment
only one thought burned in her mind.
She'd have him, even if it killed her. If it killed both of them, she'd have him.

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