Elena handed her a book of matches and Bonnie carefully lit the candles, then reached to take the vial of blood from Jasmine. The blood had coagulated a bit. When she tipped it over above the pile of herbs, it trickled out, leaving a thick film inside the vial.
“Don’t use it all,” Elena breathed, hanging over Bonnie’s shoulder. “What if we need to do it again?”
“I don’t want to make the herbs too wet, anyway,” Bonnie told her, capping the vial. “They need to burn.” She handed the vial, a third of its contents gone, back to Jasmine, and reached for another match.
The blood- and oil-drizzled herbs smoked and sputtered, letting out a hissing noise as they slowly began to burn. Bonnie fixed her eyes on the smoke, watching the patterns as it curled before the bright candle flames. She slowed her breathing and let her eyes slip out of focus, a deep calm coming over her.
Riding a surge of Power, Bonnie pushed outward, letting her mind expand. The red trickle of blood from the vial. Blood pounding through veins, drunk by vampires, passing from one vampire to another in an exchange of blood. Jack’s hands holding a syringe.
She could feel her eyes rolling back into her head and her mouth filled with a metallic, bitter taste. In the distance, Jasmine gasped and Matt shushed her quickly.
Then it was like Bonnie was speeding through the night sky above Dalcrest, the wind rushing through her hair. She hovered over the campus, feeling the pull toward Pruitt House, her old dorm, where she knew the captive vampire was locked in the basement. No, she thought firmly. Someone else. Further back.
There was an immediate jerk at her consciousness, but weak and in more than one direction, scattered. The other vampires Jack made, she realized. There were a lot of them, more than she’d supposed.
No, she thought again, more firmly. Further back. Older.
For a moment, she thought it was hopeless. Her consciousness hovered uncertainly, and then started to slide backward. She could see herself from above, her red head tilted back, the black smoke rising from the mixture of herbs and blood toward the ceiling. She was falling back into her body. No! she shrieked silently, trying to pull away.
There was a sudden tug somewhere in her center, and Bonnie was rising again, flying faster, feeling light and buoyant. She zoomed over the campus, past Pruitt House, past the playing fields, and felt herself slow as she reached the stretch of woods on the other side of campus.
There was something—someone—down there. The blood was yanking her toward it. The sensation was stronger than what she had gotten from the vampires in the woods and somehow felt older and darker than the pull toward Damon’s captive.
Down, down, closer and closer. The image was becoming clearer: a shadowy figure in a small room. Some kind of little house deep in the woods behind the campus. Through the window she glimpsed the bell tower of the Dalcrest chapel.
Satisfied, Bonnie let her concentration slip. Immediately, she was rushing backward through blackness, feeling like she was falling, and then her vision cleared. Through the smoke of the burning herbs, thin and wavery now, the candles sputtered. Her friends were all watching her.
Bonnie cleared her throat, her mouth dry. “I know where the vampire is,” she said. “And it’s close.”
Chapter 14
As they walked through the woods, Elena sent her Power questing out around her, trying to find some trace of the vampire Bonnie said was nearby. Nothing. Beside her, Bonnie moved confidently straight ahead, seemingly sure of their direction. The others followed, Alaric muttering a charm of protection, Jasmine holding a stake and Matt a long hunter’s stave. The sun was rising over the trees and the birds sang loudly, waking up around them.
Matt cleared his throat. “I really think we should have waited for Damon before coming out here.” He sounded nervous, and Elena didn’t blame him. But they knew where the vampire who’d provided the blood for Jack was, and Elena couldn’t just sit back and let this chance slip away. It had been hard enough to wait for daylight. They weren’t total idiots—they weren’t going to go after a traditional vampire at night.
Every moment before sunrise, though, Elena had felt anxious and jittery, ready to burst out of her skin. If she had been just a few minutes earlier at the drive-in, she could have caught Siobhan, could have saved the lives of that young couple in the car.
If she’d seen through Jack’s facade just a few minutes earlier, maybe she could have saved Stefan.
“We can’t wait for Damon to get back,” she said, determined. “This might be our only chance to track it down and find out about Jack.”
Matt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but then he gave her a small smile and pressed forward. Jasmine’s face was set, and Bonnie’s small chin jutted forward defiantly. Alaric nodded at Elena.
We can do this, Elena thought. We have to.
The woods opened up into a clearing with a small house at the center, and they stopped at the edge, still sheltered by the trees.
“That’s it,” Bonnie said.
Hansel and Gretel, Elena thought. It looked just like the witch’s cottage, gabled and ornamented with a swooping roof. Scrollwork edging hung off the porch and windows. The cottage was precious and nestled deep in the woods. Elena wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. There was something about this little house.
“Are we ready?” she asked, staring at the house. Its windows flashed, reflecting sunlight back at her. Did something move behind them? She tried to focus her Power to see if she could sense an aura there, but felt nothing.
“Maybe we should try talking to the vampire first,” Matt blurted out. They all looked at him, and he blushed. “He—or she—hasn’t attacked us. We want information, not a fight. And we know not every vampire is just going to try to kill you right away. Damon wouldn’t. Stefan and Chloe wouldn’t have.” Jasmine’s hand slipped into his, Elena noted. So Matt had told her about poor Chloe, his college girlfriend who had become a vampire and then died.
“You’re right,” Bonnie said. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to hold a vampire anyway, without Damon’s help.” She glanced at Alaric. “If we can put a strong enough protection spell over all of us.”
As they spoke, Elena’s discomfort was growing, vague twitchiness escalating to apprehension. She began to breathe faster, her heart banging against her chest. She focused on the first floor windows. They seemed ominous, like hooded unfriendly eyes gazing out at her across the porch.
“There’s something wrong,” she said suddenly. She was sure of it.
She had to get in there right now. Something inside her was opening up, and she felt hypersensitive to everything around her: the breeze through the trees, the chirp of the birds, the fresh morning smell of pines and maples. Most of all, the tiny house where nothing moved.
It was her Guardian Powers. Behind those blank windows, some innocent human was in trouble.
“What’s going on?” Bonnie asked her, but Elena was already striding out into the clearing, abandoning any attempt at stealth. She barely noticed the others hurrying after her.
The porch steps creaked under her feet. Up close, the gingerbread cottage was grimy and out of repair, the scrollwork trim cracked. Elena hesitated for a second, clutching her stake. She tried again to find an aura inside the house, but her perception remained frustratingly blank. The sense that something terrible was happening only grew stronger.
“We have to get in there right now,” she said urgently. She slammed her shoulder against the door once and then again, grunting in frustration when the latch held. “Help me.”
Matt, stave in hand, took a running leap and kicked the door open. It hit the wall behind it with a crash, bouncing back toward them, and Elena shouldered it aside as she rushed into the cottage.
At first, the room seemed empty. The sun shone peacefully through the windows, falling on an empty sofa, a patterned rug. But the smell of blood hung in the air, heavy and overwhelming.
Elena turned—and froze in horror.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she saw. There was just a pattern of reds and flesh tones against the white wall.
As Elena’s vision cleared, the abstract bloodred shapes resolved to a hanging figure. A young girl, maybe fourteen years old, chained to the wall. She had been torn open, bright blood everywhere. Dark, glazed eyes stared unseeingly from a bloody face. Her hair was a honey shade of brown. Elena’s heart twisted with pity. She must have been a pretty girl, once.
Elena reached out and ran a hand lightly across the girl’s brow, as gently as if the girl could feel it. As if gentleness would do any good now, Elena thought bitterly, and bit her own lip hard to keep from crying. The girl was still warm, but her blood was sticky, drying. Once again, Elena was too late.
“Let me see.” Jasmine pushed in next to Elena, her strong, sure hands running over the girl’s body. Pulling off the ropes, she got her down from the wall and started CPR, but Elena knew it was useless. After a few minutes, Jasmine stopped and kneeled back away from the body. “He ripped her apart,” she said, her voice low with shock. “This wasn’t just for food. Whatever happened… he wanted to hurt her.”
Matt frowned. “Forget about talking to him. We’d better go back to planning an attack.”