"Is that so?" I hissed. I noticed that he didn't fol ow up that statement with how his other drive in life was to make mine a living hel , but I refrained from mentioning it.
"Yes. Wel , brother," Damon said suddenly, draining his whiskey and smacking his lips. "This has been a perting evening, but if you'l forgive me, I have dinner plans."
"Fine," I said, not wanting to hear what his evening plans entailed. As Damon stood up to leave the tavern, Violet sidled up to us.
"Are you leaving already?" Violet asked, frowning.
"I'm terribly sorry, but as I was saying to Stefan, I have a dinner appointment that I couldn't possibly miss," Damon said, standing and kissing her hand.
"But it's so late." Violet pouted.
"Yes, but I'l see you tomorrow. Won't I, dear?" Damon asked.
"The dock party at Canary Wharf! Of course!" Violet smiled.
The docks? Perhaps the runaway shadow from earlier would be there, if those invited included the undead.
"It'l be a party to die for," Damon said with a knowing smile that caused my skin to crawl. That was the problem: When we were humans, Damon had his dark side, but he was always himself. Now, I had no idea where the real Damon was, or what I should believe.
"We'l be there," Violet said firmly.
"See you later, brother," Damon said as he sauntered out the door without a backward glance.
I stood up too, a wave of dizziness washing over me.
"Let's go, Violet," I said.
She nodded, not bothering to tel Alfred she was leaving. It didn't matter. The tavern felt like an outpost of the police station. In fact, most of the patrons were now police officers, going through their notes and trudging upstairs to check on Martha. Occasional y they'd look over at me and scribble something in their notebooks. I couldn't stay any longer.
Violet hooked her arm in mine and we made our way back toward our hotel. Violet was silent and drawn, caught up in her own thoughts. I knew tonight's events just reminded her of Cora, and I didn't have the words to comfort her, not anymore.
"Are you okay?" Violet asked in a smal voice as we stepped onto the dark, plush carpet of the hotel. She was so sweet to be concerned about me at a time like this, I felt my heart almost break.
I forced myself to smile.
"I wil be," I said. But she knew I was lying. Death surrounded me, and it was only a matter of time before it caved in - or I broke free.
Regardless, there would be blood.
Chapter Twelve
"The trouble with you, Stefan, is that you don't understand death."
I was in the bare bedroom of the carriage house in Mystic Fal s. Katherine was clad only in a nightshirt, her figure clearly visible beneath the gauzy fabric. Her dark hair was tied in a loose braid. I ached to touch the silky strands and yet hung back, afraid that once I al owed my hands to roam her body I would lose control. And I didn't want to lose control. Not yet.
"Tel me what death is then," I said. It had been in the days after my fiancee, Rosalyn, had died. Talking with Katherine had al owed me to forget my guilt and step into a world infused with a lemon-ginger scent where nothing - not my father, not Damon, not death - could touch us. It was a world that made me feel safe. Outside the window, I could see the ful moon reflecting on the pond at the edge of the estate. Al of the lights were out in the main house. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. This was my heaven.
"Where do I begin?" Katherine asked, running her tongue over her pointed teeth. I automatical y brought my hand up to my neck. It was stil tender to the touch, and a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain occurred whenever I applied pressure to the place where Katherine had sunk her fangs.
"Tel me what you know," I said, ever the eager student. I kept my eyes on her as she paced back and forth across the room, as light on her heels as a cat.
"Wel , it's in the eye of the beholder. Take your fair Rosalyn, for example," Katherine said, cocking her head and staring at me.
"What do you mean?" I'd asked. I wanted to know how Katherine had evaded death. I didn't know why she was bringing up Rosalyn. She knew I was supposed to stil be in mourning for the girl who'd never have the opportunity to be my wife. And in my own fashion, I did mourn for her.
"Wel , you remember her, right? What she looked like and what she smel ed like?" Katherine asked in a sing-song voice.
"Of course I do," I said, affronted.
"So how is she dead if she lives in your mind?" Katherine asked, widening her brown eyes at me.
I sighed at her existential meanderings. I stepped toward her, eager to stop talking.
Thankful y, Katherine took my hint. She reached toward me and teasingly grazed her canines across my neck, just enough to leave a scratch.
"That's al I'm saying, Stefan. No matter what happens, in each other, we wil live forever," she said. She sank her teeth into my skin as I closed my eyes, the world fading to black as I gave myself to her.
My eyes snapped open. I wasn't entirely surprised I'd dreamt about Katherine. When my life was going wel , it was as if al my memories of Katherine existed in an attic of my mind, one that I could go years without visiting. But when things were tough, she was everywhere. The question I stil couldn't answer was if I would ever escape her pul , or if she would always be there, lingering in the shadows.
But now wasn't the time to think about that. It was almost time to pick up Violet from the tavern and escort her to the dock party. I'd debated whether or not to let her come. I hoped the party would give me a chance to further explore where the vampire might be hiding, with a chance to fade back into the crowd should he be looking for me. And I didn't want Violet to be where the kil er could be. But then I realized that she possessed a fierce amount of determination, and would certainly attend whether or not I wanted her to.