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Chapter Fifteen
As soon as he left Elena at her house, Stefan went to the woods.
He took Old Creek Road, driving under the sullen clouds-through which no patch of sky could be
seen, to the place where he had parked on the first day of school.
Leaving the car, he tried to retrace his steps exactly to the clearing where he had seen the crow. His
hunter's instincts helped him, recalling the shape of this bush and that knotted root, until he stood in
the open place ringed with ancient oak trees.
Here. Under this blanket of dingy-brown leaves, some of the rabbit's bones might even remain.
Taking a long breath to still himself, to gather his Powers, he cast out a probing, demanding thought.
And for the first time since he'd come to Fell's Church, he felt the flicker of a reply. But it seemed
faint and wavering, and he could not locate it in space.
He sighed and turned around – and stopped dead.
Damon stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, lounging against the largest oak tree. He
looked as if he might have been there for hours.
"So," said Stefan heavily, "it is true. It's been a long time, brother."
"Not as long as you think, brother." Stefan remembered that voice, that velvety, ironical voice. "I've
kept track of you over the years," Damon said calmly. He flicked a bit of bark from the sleeve of his
leather jacket as casually as he had once arranged his brocade cuffs. "But then, you wouldn't know
that, would you? Ah, no, your Powers are as weak as ever."
"Be careful, Damon," Stefan said softly, dangerously. "Be very careful tonight. I'm not in a tolerant
mood."
"St. Stefan in a pique? Imagine. You're distressed, I suppose, because of my little excursions into
your territory. I only did it because I wanted to be close to you. Brothers should be close."
"You killed tonight. And you tried to make me think I'd done it."
"Are you quite sure you didn't? Perhaps we did it together. Careful!" he said as Stefan stepped
toward him. "My mood is not the most tolerant tonight, either. I only had a wizened little history
teacher; you had a pretty girl."
The fury inside Stefan coalesced, seeming to focus in one bright burning spot, like a sun inside him.
"Keep away from Elena," he whispered with such menace that Damon actually tilted his head back
slightly. "Keep away from her, Damon. I know you've been spying on her, watching her. But no more.
Go near her again and you'll regret it."
"You always were selfish. Your one fault. Not willing to share anything, are you?" Suddenly,
Damon's lips curved in a singularly beautiful smile. "But fortunately the lovely Elena is more
generous. Didn't she tell you about our little liaisons? Why, the first time we met she almost gave
herself to me on the spot."
"That's a lie!"
"Oh, no, dear brother. I never lie about anything important. Or do I mean unimportant? Anyway,
your beauteous damsel nearly swooned into my arms. I think she likes men in black." As Stefan stared
at him, trying to control his breathing, Damon added, almost gently, "You're wrong about her, you
know. You think she's sweet and docile, like Katherine. She isn't. She's not your type at all, my saintly