07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

24
Stefan woke early. He spent the time from dawn until breakfast just watching Elena, who even in
sleep had an inner glow like a golden flame through a faintly rose-colored candle.
At breakfast, everyone was more or less still wrapped up in thoughts of the day before.
Meredith showed Matt the picture of her brother, Cristian, the vampire. Matt briefly told Meredith
about the inner workings of the Ridgemont court system and painted her a picture of Caroline as
werewolf. It was clear that both of them felt safer at the boardinghouse than anywhere else.
And Elena, who had woken up with Stefan’s mind all around her, embracing her, and her
own mind still full of light, was completely at a loss for a Plan A or any other letter. She had to be
told gently by the others that only one thing made sense.
“Stefan,” Matt said, draining a mug of Mrs. Flowers’s pitch-black coffee. “He’s the only
one who might be able to use his mind instead of Post-it Notes on the kids.”
And, “Stefan,” said Meredith. “He’s the only one Shinichi might be afraid of.”
“I’m no use at all,” Elena said sadly. She had no appetite. She had gotten dressed with a
feeling of love and compassion toward all humankind and a desire to help protect her hometown, but
as everyone pointed out, she was probably going to have to spend the day in the root cellar. Reporters
might come to call.
They’re right, Stefan sent to Elena. I’m the only logical person to find out what’s really
going on in Fell’s Church.
He actually went while the rest of them were finishing breakfast. Only Elena knew why;
only she could feel him at the limits of her telepathic range.
Stefan was hunting. He drove into the New Wood, got out, and finally startled a rabbit
out of the brush. He Influenced it to rest and not be frightened. Surreptitiously, in this thin woodland
without cover, he took a little blood from it…and choked.
It tasted like some kind of hideous liquid flavored with rodent. Was a rabbit a rodent? He
had been lucky enough to find a rat one day in his prison cell and it had tasted vaguely like this.
But now, for days, he had been drinking human blood. Not just that, but the rich, potent
blood of strong, adventurous, and in several cases paranormally talented individuals—the crème de
la crème. How could he have gotten used to it so quickly?
It shamed him now, to think of what he’d taken. Elena’s blood, of course, was enough to
drive any vampire wild. And Meredith, whose blood had the deep crimson taste of some primordial
ocean, and Bonnie, who tasted like a telepath’s dessert. And finally Matt, the All-American redblooded
boy.