Why do they always want to be on top of buildings?
Bonnie thought irritably. Inside. Inside is nice. No one falls to their death if they're inside a building. But here we are.
Stargazing from the top of the science building while on a date with Zander was romantic. Bonnie would be al for another little nighttime picnic, just the two of them. But partying on a different roof with a bunch of Zander's friends was not romantic, not even slightly.
She took a sip of her drink and moved out of the way without even looking as she heard the smack of bodies hitting the ground and the grunts of guys wrestling. After two days of living with Zander, she was beginning to get the names of his friends straight: Tristan and Marcus were the ones rol ing around on the floor with Zander. Jonah, Camden, and Spencer were doing something they cal ed parkour, which mostly seemed to involve running around like idiots and almost fal ing off the roof. Enrique, Jared, Daniel, and Chad were al playing an elaborate drinking game in the corner. There were a few more guys who hung around sometimes, but this was the core group.
She liked them, she real y did. Most of the time. They were boisterous, sure, but they were always very nice to her: getting her drinks, immediately handing her their jackets if she was cold, tel ing her that they had no idea what she saw in a loser like Zander, which was clearly their guy way of declaring how much they loved him and that they were happy he had a girlfriend.
She looked over at Zander, who was laughing as he held Tristan in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over the top of Tristan's head. "Do you give in?" he said, and grunted in surprise as Marcus, whooping joyful y, tackled them both.
It would have been easier if there were other girls around that she could get to know. If Marcus (who was very cute in a giant shaggy-haired Sasquatch kind of way) or Spencer (who had the kind of preppy rich-boy elegance that some girls found extremely attractive) had a regular girlfriend, Bonnie would have someone to exchange wry glances with as the guys acted like doofuses.
But, even though a girl would occasional y appear clinging to the arm of one of the guys, Bonnie would never see her again after that night. Except for Bonnie, Zander seemed to travel in an almost exclusively masculine world.
And, after two days of fol owing the macho parade around town, Bonnie was starting to get sick of it. She missed having girls to talk to. She missed Elena and Meredith, specifical y, even though she was stil mad at them.
"Hey," she said, making her way over to Zander. "Want to get out of here for a while?"
Zander wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Um.
Why?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her neck.
Bonnie rol ed her eyes. "It's kind of loud, don't you think?
We could go for a nice quiet walk or something." Zander looked surprised but nodded. "Sure, whatever you want."
They made their way down the fire escape, fol owed by a few shouts from Zander's friends, who seemed to think he was going on a food run and would shortly return with hot wings and tacos.
Once they were a block away from the rooftop party, the noise faded and it was peaceful, except for the distant sound of an occasional car on the roads nearby. Bonnie knew she ought to feel creeped out, walking around at night on campus, but she didn't. Not with Zander's hand in hers.
"This is nice, isn't it?" Bonnie said happily, gazing up at the half moon overhead.
"Yeah," Zander said, swinging her hand between them.
"You know, I used to go on long walks - runs, real y - with my dad at night. Way out in the country, in the moonlight. I love being outside at night."
"Aw, that's sweet," Bonnie said. "Do you guys stil do that when you're home?"
"No." Zander hesitated and hunched his shoulders, his hair hanging in his face. Bonnie couldn't read his expression. "My dad ... he died. A while ago."
"I'm so sorry," Bonnie said sincerely, squeezing his hand.
"I'm okay," Zander said, stil staring at his shoes. "But, y'know, I don't have any brothers or sisters, and the guys have sort of become like a family to me. I know they can be a pain sometimes, but they're real y good guys. And they're important to me." He glanced at Bonnie out of the corner of his eyes.
He looked so apprehensive, Bonnie felt a sharp pang of affection for him. It was sweet that Zander and his friends were so close - that must have been the family stuff he had to deal with the other night. He was loyal, that much she knew. "Zander," she said. "I know they're important to you. I don't want to take you away from your friends, you goof." She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Maybe just for an hour or two sometimes, but not for long, I promise." Zander returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and Bonnie tingled al the way down to her toes.
Clinging to each other, they made their way to a bench by the side of the path and sat down to kiss some more.
Zander just felt so good under her hands, al sleek muscles and smooth skin, and Bonnie ran her hands across his shoulders, along his arms, down his sides.
At her touch, Zander suddenly winced.
"What's the matter?" she said, lifting her head away from his.
"Nothing," said Zander, reaching for her. "I was just messing around with the guys, you know. They play rough."
"Let me see," Bonnie said, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, half concerned and half wanting to just check out Zander's abs. He had turned out to be surprisingly modest, considering they were sharing a room.
Wincing again, he sucked his breath in through his teeth as Bonnie lifted his shirt. She gasped. Zander's whole side was covered with ugly black-and-purple bruises.
"Zander," Bonnie said horrified, "these look real y bad.
You don't get bruises like that just messing around." They look like you were fighting for your life - or someone else was, she thought, and pushed away the words.
"They're nothing. Don't worry," Zander said, tugging his shirt back down. He started to wrap his arms around her again, but Bonnie moved away, feeling vaguely sickened.
"I wish you'd tel me what happened," she said.
"I did," Zander said comfortingly. "You know how crazy those guys get."
It was true, she'd never known guys so rowdy. Zander reached for her again, and this time Bonnie moved closer to him, turning her face up for his kiss. As their lips met, she remembered Zander's saying to her, "You know me. You see me."
She did know him, Bonnie told herself. She could trust Zander.
Across the street, Damon stood in the shadow of a tree, watching Bonnie kiss Zander.
He had to admit he felt a little pang, seeing her in the arms of someone else. There was something so sweet about Bonnie, and she was brave and intel igent under that cotton-candy exterior. The witchy angle added a little touch of spice to her, too. He'd always thought of her as his.
Then again, didn't the little redbird deserve someone of her own? As much as Damon liked her, he didn't love her, he knew that. Seeing the lanky boy's face light up in response to her smile, he thought maybe this one would.
After making out for a few more minutes, Bonnie and Zander stood up and wandered, hand in hand, toward what Damon knew was Zander's dorm. Damon trailed them, keeping to the shadows.
He huffed out a breath of self-mocking laughter. I'm getting soft in my old age, he thought. Back in the old days he would have eaten Bonnie without a second thought, and here he was worrying about her love life.
Stil , it would be nice if the little redhead could be happy.
If her boyfriend wasn't a threat.
Damon ful y expected the happy couple to disappear into the dorm together. Instead, Zander kissed Bonnie good-bye and watched as she went inside, then headed back out. Damon fol owed him, keeping hidden, as he went back to the party where they'd been before. A few minutes later, Zander came down again, trailed by his pack of noisy boys.
Damon twitched in irritation. God save me from college boys, he thought. They were probably going to gorge themselves on greasy bar food. After a couple of days of watching Zander, he was ready to go back to Elena and report that the boy was guilty of nothing more than being uncouth.
Instead of heading toward the nearest bar, though, the boys jogged across campus, quick and determined, as if they had an important destination in mind. Reaching the edge of campus, they headed into the woods.
Damon gave them a few seconds and then fol owed.
He was good at this, he was a predator, a natural hunter, and so it took him a few minutes of listening, of sending his Power out, of final y just racing through the woods, black branches snapping before him, to realize that Zander and his boys were gone.
Final y, Damon stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The woods were silent except for the innocent sound of various woodland creatures going about their business and his own ragged panting. That pack of noisy, obnoxious children had escaped him, disappearing without the slightest trace. He gritted his teeth and tamped down his anger at being evaded, until it was mostly curiosity about how they'd done it.
Poor Bonnie, Damon thought as he fastidiously smoothed and adjusted his clothing. One thing was abundantly clear: Zander and his friends weren't entirely human.
Stefan twitched. This was al just kind of strange.
He was sitting in a velvet-backed chair in a huge underground room, as col ege students roamed around arranging flowers and candles. The room was impressive, Stefan would give them that: cavernous yet elegant. But the little arrangements of flowers seemed chintzy and false somehow, like a stage set in the Vatican. And the black-masked figures lurking in the back of the room, watching, were giving him the jitters.
Matt had cal ed him to tel him about some kind of col ege secret society that he'd joined, and that the leader wanted Stefan to join, too. Stefan agreed to meet him and talk about it. He never was much of a joiner, but he liked Matt, and it was something to do.
It would take his mind off Elena, he'd thought. Lurking around campus - and it felt like lurking, when he saw Elena, with the way his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her even as he hurried out of sight - he'd watched her. Sometimes she was with Damon. Stefan's fingernails bit into his palms.
Consciously relaxing, he turned his attention back to Ethan, who was sitting across a smal table from him.
"The members of the Vitale Society hold a very special place in the world," he was saying, leaning forward, smiling.
"Only the best of the best can hope to be tapped, and the qualities we look for I think are very Wellexemplified in you, Stefan."
Stefan nodded politely and let his mind drift again.
Secret societies were something he actual y knew a little about. Sir Walter Raleigh's School of Night in Elizabethan England wrestled with what was then forbidden knowledge: science and philosophy the church declared out of bounds.
Il Carbonari back home in Italy worked to encourage revolt against the government of the various city-states, aiming for a unification of al of Italy. Damon, Stefan knew, toyed with the members of the Hel fire Club in London for a few months in the 1700s, until he got bored with their posturing and childish blasphemy.
Al those secret societies, though, had some kind of purpose. Rebel ing against conventional morality, pursuing truth, revolution.
Stefan leaned forward. "Pardon me," he said politely,
"but what is the point of the Vitale Society?" Ethan paused midspeech to stare at him, then wet his lips. "Well," he said slowly, "the real secrets and rituals of the Society can't be unveiled to outsiders. None of the pledges know our true practices and purposes, not yet. But I can tel you that there are innumerable benefits to being one of us. Travel, adventure, power."
"None of the pledges know your real purpose?" Stefan asked. His natural inclination to stay away was becoming more resolute. "Why don't you wear a mask like the others?"
Ethan looked surprised. "I'm the face of the Vitale for the pledges," he said simply. "They'l need someone they know to guide them."
Stefan made up his mind. He didn't want to be guided.
"I apologize, Ethan," he said formal y, "but I don't think I would be an appropriate candidate for your organization. I appreciate the invitation." He started to rise.
"Wait," said Ethan. His eyes were wide and golden and had a hungry, eager expression in them. "Wait," he said, licking his lips again. "We ... we have a copy of Pico del a Mirandola's De hominis dignitate." He stumbled over the words as if he didn't quite know what they were. "An old one, from Florence, a first edition. You'd get to read it. You could have it if you wanted."
Stefan stiffened. He had studied Mirandola's work on reason and philosophy with enthusiasm back when he was stil alive, when he was a young man preparing for the university. He had a sudden visceral longing to feel the old leather and parchment, see the blocky type from the first days of the printing press, so much more right somehow than the modern computer-set books. There was no way Ethan should have known to offer him that specific book.
His eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think I'd want that?" he hissed, leaning across the table toward Ethan. He could feel Power surging through him, fueled by his rage, but Ethan wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I ... you told me you like old books, Stefan," he said, and gave a little false laugh, gazing down at the tabletop. "I thought you would be interested."
"No, thank you," Stefan said, low and angry. He couldn't force Ethan to look him in the eye, not with al these people around, so after a moment, he stood. "I refuse your offer," he told Ethan shortly. "Good-bye."
He walked to the door without looking back, holding himself straight and tal . He glanced at Matt, who was talking to another student, as he reached the door and, when Matt met his eyes, gave him a shrug and a shake of the head, trying to telegraph an apology. Matt nodded, disappointed but not arguing.
No one tried to stop Stefan as he left the room. But he had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something wrong here. He didn't know enough to dissuade Matt from joining, but he decided to keep tabs on the Vitale Society. As he shut the door behind him, he could sense Ethan watching him.
