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were married. It's easy, Elena; and what have you got to lose?"
Elena looked from Bonnie to Meredith. "I don't know," she said. "But, look, you don't really
believe…"
Bonnie drew herself up with affronted dignity. "Are you calling my mother a liar? Oh, come on,
Elena, there's no harm in trying. Why not?"
"What would I have to do?" said Elena doubtfully. She felt strangely intrigued, but at the same time
rather frightened.
"It's simple. We have to get everything ready before the stroke of midnight…"
Five minutes before midnight, Elena stood in the McCulloughs' dining room, feeling more foolish
than anything else. From the backyard, she could hear Yangtze's frantic barking, but inside the house
there was no sound except the unhurried tick of the grandfather clock. Following Bonnie's
instructions, she had set the big black walnut table with one plate, one glass, and one set of
silverware, all the time not saying a word. Then she had lit a single candle in a candleholder in the
center of the table, and positioned herself behind the chair with the place setting.
According to Bonnie, on the stroke of midnight she was supposed to pull the chair back and invite
her future husband in. At that point, the candle would blow out and she would see a ghostly figure in
the chair.
Earlier, she'd been a little uneasy about this, uncertain that she wanted to see any ghostly figures,
even of her husband-to-be. But just now the whole thing seemed silly and harmless. As the clock
began to chime, she straightened up and got a better grip on the chair back. Bonnie had told her not to
let go until the ceremony was over.
Oh, this was silly. Maybe she wouldn't say the words… but when the clock started to toll out the
hour, she heard herself speaking.
"Come in," she said self-consciously to the empty room, drawing out the chair. "Come in, come
in…"
The candle went out.
Elena started in the sudden darkness. She'd felt the wind, a cold gust that had blown out the candle.
It came from the French doors behind her, and she turned quickly, one hand still on the chair. She
would have sworn those doors were shut.
Something moved in the darkness.
Terror washed through Elena, sweeping away her self-consciousness and any trace of amusement.
Oh, God, what had she done, what had she brought on herself? Her heart contracted and she felt as if
she had been plunged, without warning, into her most dreadful nightmare. It was not only dark but
utterly silent; there was nothing to see and nothing to hear, and she was falling…
"Allow me," said a voice, and a bright flame sputtered in the darkness.
For a terrible, sickening instant she thought it was Tyler, remembering his lighter in the ruined
church on the hill. But as the candle on the table sprang to life, she saw the pale, longfingered hand
that held it. Not Tyler's beefy red fist. She thought for an instant it was Stefan's, and then her eyes
lifted to the face.
"You!" she said, astounded. "What do you think you're doing here?" She looked from him to the
French doors, which were indeed open, showing the side lawn. "Do you always just walk into other
people's houses uninvited?"
"But you asked me to come in." His voice was as she remembered it, quiet, ironical and amused.