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other. She has a spirit and a fire in her that you wouldn't know what to do with."
"And you would, I suppose."
Damon uncrossed his arms and slowly smiled again. "Oh, yes."
Stefan wanted to leap for him, to smash that beautiful, arrogant smile, to tear Damon's throat out. He
said, in a barely controlled voice, "You're right about one thing. She's strong. Strong enough to fight
you off. And now that she knows what you really are, she will. All she feels for you now is disgust."
Damon's eyebrows lifted. "Does she, now? We'll see about that. Perhaps she'll find that real
darkness is more to her taste than feeble twilight. I, at least, can admit the truth about my nature. But I
worry about you, little brother. You're looking weak and ill-fed. She's a tease, is she?"
Kill him, something in Stefan's mind demanded. Kill him, snap his neck, rip his throat to bloody
shreds. But he knew Damon had fed very well tonight. His brother's dark aura was swollen, pulsing,
almost shining with the life essence he had taken.
"Yes, I drank deeply," Damon said pleasantly, as if he knew what was in Stefan's mind. He sighed
and ran his tongue over his lips in satisfied remembrance. "He was small, but there was a surprising
amount of juice in him. Not pretty like Elena, and he certainly didn't smell as good. But it's always
exhilarating to feel the new blood singing inside you." Damon breathed expansively, stepping away
from the tree and looking around. Stefan remembered those graceful movements, too, each gesture
controlled and precise. The centuries had only refined Damon's natural poise.
"It makes me feel like doing this," said Damon, moving to a sapling a few yards away. It was half
again as tall as he was, and when he grasped it his fingers did not meet around the trunk. But Stefan
saw the quick breath and the ripple of muscles under Damon's thin black shirt, and then the tree tore
loose from the ground, its roots dangling. Stefan could smell the pungent dampness of disturbed earth.
"I didn't like it there anyway," said Damon, and heaved it as far away as the still-entangled roots
would allow. Then he smiled engagingly. "It also makes me feel like doing this."
There was a shimmer of motion, and then Damon was gone. Stefan looked around but could see no
sign of him.
"Up here, brother." The voice came from overhead, and when Stefan looked up he saw Damon
perching among the spreading branches of the oak tree. There was a rustle of tawny brown leaves,
and he disappeared again.
"Back here, brother." Stefan spun at the tap on his shoulder, only to see nothing behind him. "Right
here, brother." He spun again. "No, try here." Furious, Stefan whipped the other way, trying to catch
hold of Damon. But his fingers grasped only air.
Here, Stefan. This time the voice was in his mind, and the Power of it shook him to the core. It took
enormous strength to project thoughts that clearly. Slowly, he turned around once more, to see Damon
back in his original position, leaning against the big oak tree.
But this time the humor in those dark eyes had faded. They were black and fathomless, and Damon's
lips were set in a straight line.
What more proof do you need, Stefan? I'm as much stronger than you as you are stronger than these
pitiful humans. I'm faster than you, too, and I have other Powers you've scarcely heard of. The Old
Powers, Stefan. And I'm not afraid to use them. If you fight me, I'll use them against you.
"Is that what you came here for? To torture me?"
I've been merciful with you, brother. Many times you've been mine for the killing, but I've always