Elena’s fingernails bit into her palms. How would Katherine feel when Elena went after Damon? Katherine considered both the Salvatores her property, Elena knew, but she had always thought the vampire girl was more possessive of Stefan. She’d even offered to let him live, if he left Damon and Elena to die. But Elena couldn’t let herself forget that Katherine was a threat, whichever Salvatore brother Elena pursued.
Crossing past the old church, Elena lifted her chin defiantly. She’d have to solve the Katherine problem when she got to it.
Reaching the newer, well-kept part of the cemetery, Elena rested a hand on the big marble headstone with GILBERT carved into the front.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it’s been such a long time.”
She missed them so much, not as sharply or painfully as when she’d been in high school the first time, but with a powerfully wistful longing. If her beautiful, artistic mother had lived, she could have guided Elena through those first rocky days of being an Earthly Guardian. If her funny, warm father had been there, she could have leaned on him through all the hard times. They would have liked Stefan, she thought, and they would have seen how Damon’s stubborn, fiery nature complemented Elena’s own.
She wished that she could have gone even further back, that the Guardians had sent her back to Fell’s Church when she was twelve. She could have saved her parents. She could have kept them out of the car that terrible day that had ended their lives and changed hers and Margaret’s forever.
With a powerful rush of longing, Elena remembered her mother laughing as she chased her through the house when Elena had been very small, catching her and sweeping her up into her arms for a hug.
“I still miss you,” she whispered, brushing her hand across her parents’ names.
A sudden wind caught her hair, whipping it across her face. Looking up, Elena saw the tops of the oak trees at the edge of the cemetery tossing violently. Dark clouds were massing above her, and there was a sharp chill in the air. She shivered.
The sky grew darker still. This wasn’t a natural storm, surely. It had been clear and sunny only a moment before.
Damon? He could change the weather when he wanted to. Or Katherine? She was far more powerful than Damon right now.
Elena shuddered. If it was Katherine, she might kill Elena without even thinking about it. She remembered how easily Katherine had torn Damon’s chest apart with her long talonlike nails, as her fangs ripped through his throat. There had been so much blood.
Elena steeled herself. Running wouldn’t make any difference; she knew that this time. She’d tried that, and Katherine had caught up with her eventually. Again, she remembered the cold of the water under Wickery Bridge and shivered.
“I’m not afraid,” she said stubbornly. “Whatever’s out there, I’m ready for you.”
The wind stopped. Everything grew still, the leaves hanging motionless from the trees. All around Elena was silence, without even the chirp of a bird or the sound of a car in the distance.
Something stirred in the shadows under the oak trees. Elena squinted, trying to see. A dark figure moved toward her. The dim sunlight caught pale skin and sleek, night-dark hair. Black boots, black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket. An arrogant lift to his chin, as if he’d seen everything in the world and didn’t think much of it. Damon.
Thunder crashed overhead and Elena, despite herself, jumped.
“Nervous?” Damon was smiling faintly, his dark eyes amused. He was so beautiful, she thought absently. That was always true, always had been true. Sculpted cheekbones and clean, fine features. But there was something unfamiliar in that smile. There was none of the affection, none of the tenderness she was used to.
Elena reached for the bond between them automatically, wanting to check on Damon’s thoughts and emotions, and to reaffirm their constant connection. But there was nothing. The Guardian’s bond didn’t exist here.
Damon moved closer, his eyes fixed on her face. “There’s a storm coming,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if he was telling her a secret. The thunder grumbled again. “A bad day for a walk.”
Elena felt her own smile rise to meet his challenging one. “I’m not afraid of a little rain,” she said.
“No, I imagine you’re not afraid of much.” Damon lifted a hand to brush Elena’s cheek, tracing a finger lightly down her throat. He was far too close, and something twisted uneasily inside Elena.
This was Damon. She had no reason to fear him. Damon loved her.
Only … not this Damon. Not yet. This Damon was a hunter, and he was looking at Elena as if she were prey. Despite herself, she stepped backward.
His eyes narrowed and his smile spread. Elena jutted her chin out stubbornly. She was not going to flinch away from Damon. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Someone could be watching you,” Damon went on, moving closer still. “A young girl, alone in a graveyard, when night is beginning to fall.” His voice was soothing, hypnotic almost, and he moved toward her once more, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin.
Elena’s chest ached. This wasn’t her Damon, this Damon with the cruel set to his mouth and the malicious gleam in his eyes. He was dangerous, even to her.
But, after all, he was Damon, wasn’t he? He didn’t know her, not yet, but Elena knew him, inside and out. She felt a smile blossoming on her own face and her shoulders, which had lifted as if she was expecting a blow, dropped.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I know you’d never hurt me.”