It took Matt a full minute to feel the scalding coffee seep through his jeans.
“Shit!” he exclaimed as the hot liquid burned his flesh.
Cecily jumped up and ran to the counter, racing back with a pile of napkins the size of Mt. Everest.
“Jesus, Matt! I didn’t mean to startle you like that. I only wanted to know about Elena—“
Pausing in the act of mopping off his pants, Matt looked quickly around the shop. A few of the patrons were regarding them curiously. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the mention of Elena or his colorful language. He decided not to take a chance. “Don’t say her name!” he hissed.
Cecily’s eyes widened and she wisely sat back down remaining silent as he finished cleaning himself up as best he could. Only when he’d crumpled up the last soiled napkin and deposited it on the table did he meet her gaze again.
“I’m sorry—“ she began.
He leaned forward. “Dead or alive, what in the hell gives you the right to ask me about Elena?” His voice was hard and sounded foreign to his own ears.
To her credit, Cecily didn’t flinch at his tone. Instead she cleared her throat. “I saw her.”
Matt was speechless. He supposed that didn’t matter though, because Cecily was continuing anyway.
“I was in the woods. . .with my camera,” she explained rapidly, looking at him in earnest. “I’d heard about the boarding house and wanted to get some shots of it. I was surprised when I saw you there,” she concluded.
He couldn’t look at her anymore, fearing his expression would give away everything that was running through his mind. *Please let this be a dream.*
But it wasn’t. And as much as he liked Cecily. . .
“What else did you see?” he asked her quietly, not really wanting to get an answer, but needing one anyway.
Cecily drew in her breath and absently began shredding one of the few napkins Matt hadn’t used. She followed his lead and averted her gaze to the surface of the table. Matt waited, listening to the pregnant silence that hung in the air between them.
“I saw you. . .and Bonnie,” she finally remarked.
His head snapped up, eyebrows in his hair. “We’re not—“
“I know.”
He let out a full breath. “Listen. . .I don’t know what kind of conclusions you drew from what you saw, but just forget about Elena.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Matt, I saw her picture when I was in the library. I know it was—“
His anger boiled over. “Leave it!” When he saw the wounded look in her eyes, he repented his harsh words. “I’m sorry, Cecily. But you need to forget about Elena. Leave her in her grave.”
She nodded slowly, resignation written clearly on her face. “No, I’m sorry Matt. I had no right to pry. I just. . .want to know more about you. . .I. . .” she faltered.
He felt himself soften at her frightened tone. Reaching across the table, he clasped her hands once again. “I understand curiosity,” he said. Rolling his eyes, he added, “Believe me, I understand.”
Cecily gazed at him seriously. “You don’t have to say anything now Matt, but I want you to trust me. I know there’s a lot going on in your life, but you don’t have to protect me from it.”
He frowned. “I—“
She held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. I’m from New York, remember? I’m a big girl. . .I’ve seen a lot of freaky shit. No matter what you have to say, I know I can handle it.”
In spite of the situation Matt felt a grin tug at his mouth. Her Brooklyn accent became harsher when she was upset, almost making him believe she was the tough girl from the streets she wanted to pass herself off as. Then he sobered, remembering that no matter what she thought she’d seen, it couldn’t compare with the horrors he’d witnessed. *Goodnight Sweetheart* And he never wanted to subject her to them. Hell, he didn’t want to subject himself to them again by retelling the stories. The reoccurring nightmares were enough.
He shook his head emphatically. “I can’t Cecily. . .I just can’t. Please understand.”
Her eyes were closed. He watched closely as she roughly massaged her temples and took several deep breaths. He was relieved when she looked at him and offered a sheepish smile.
“I understand.” Her voice was quiet, and a little unsteady. “But I do need you to answer one question for me Matt.”
He hoped the wariness he was feeling didn’t show in his face as he asked, “What?”
“Do you trust me?”
He paused, not sure if he heard her right. She was serious, that much was certain. What wasn’t certain was what kind of answer she was expecting in return. Jesus, how long had he even known her?
*Long enough to discover the meaning of life through sex,* his brain reminded him.
“I do trust you,” he answered slowly. “But, it’s not a question of trust Cecily—“
She interrupted him. “It’s all I needed to know, Matt. If you trust me, then everything is fine. The rest will come in time.” She glanced down at her watch. “I have to go. Walk me out?”
He frowned at the abruptness of her dismissal, but rose with her and helped her put her coat on. When they stepped outside, the cool night air on his pants reminded him of his earlier mishap. He looked down, and felt his face heat up with embarrassment.
“I guess I’m not house-broken after all,” he joked.
Cecily’s laugh was silvery sweet and for an instant, Matt was insanely glad he’d spilled the coffee on himself. He could listen to her laugh for hours.
“I am sorry about that Matt,” she apologized from behind her hand in an attempt to stifle her giggles. “I truly am. I’m sorry I opened my mouth at all.”
He stepped closer to her, reaching out to gently brush the previously mentioned offensive organ with his thumb. Her lips trembled underneath his touch. He held her gaze, drawn into the crystalline depths of her eyes.
“We’ll have to find a better use for it, that’s all.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “I’ve never met anyone like you Matt Honeycutt. You’re sex incarnate and you don’t even know it. You’re so honest and solid.” She mimicked his movements and reached a hand up to his face. “So different from—“
“From what?” he questioned after she trailed off. “Different from what? Or who?”
She finally lowered her gaze, along with her hand. “Nothing,” she replied. “Will you come over later?”
*Do fish swim?*
“Yeah,” he answered. “Around eleven?”
She nodded and flashed him a dazzling smile. Again, she checked her watch. “Damn! I’m late!” Giving him a quick kiss on the lips, she was gone in a rush down the street, calling over her shoulder, “I can’t wait!”
The moment she was out of sight, Matt felt his fists clench.
*Goddamnit!*
How could this have happened? How could Cecily have seen Elena? He did not need this. How long would he be able to avoid her questions? Considering the things Cecily had convinced him to do in the past, he wouldn’t bet he’d hold out for long. Again, one word surfaced in his brain.
*Doomed.*
* * * * *
Same Time
Day’s Inn
“Coming up next—a very special episode of Full House.”
“Aren’t they all?” Elena asked the television dryly. She smiled at her comment, for a moment feeling like she’d channeled Meredith. The smile left her face as she gazed around the empty hotel room, wishing Meredith was actually there. Or better yet, wishing she herself was with Meredith. . .and Stefan.
She sighed and flipped channels idly, not really interested in the comedy stylings of those annoying Olsen twins. Her ears perked up when she heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening.
“Stefan?” she called hopefully.
“No,” came another male voice.
Elena tried to hide her disappointment as Alaric entered the room, still clutching his precious box from the boarding house. The one she’d carried was on the floor next to her bed. He made his way over and sat opposite her on the other bed, placing his box next to hers.
“Where are the others?” she asked, taking in his bloodshot eyes and the growing stubble on his face.
As if conscious of her scrutiny, Alaric reached up and rubbed at his jaw. Elena found the gesture oddly endearing. Then again, she’d always had a soft spot for the nervous parapsychologist, ever since she knelt in front of him in that attic, long ago.
“Bonnie’s apartment,” he replied. He looked up at her and grinned ironically. “And we’ve gained another member to our happy team.”
Her eyebrows raised in question, and he continued.
“Aurora’s sire is in town. Her name is Elisabeth Carrey.” He paused. “She’s powerful, Elena. Really powerful.”
Elena frowned. “What’s she like? Can we trust her?”
He gave a short laugh. “Well, she certainly put Damon in his place a few times while I was there.” He saw her stiffen at the mention of Damon’s name. “He’s fine by the way—he was in the basement of the school.”
She nodded, letting that subject drop. “How come you came back alone?”
“The others are still chatting with Elisabeth. . .discussing Bonnie’s dreams. No one seemed very interested in the contents of these boxes besides me.” He stood and indicated her. “And you of course, since you helped me find them.” He moved across the room and reached into the small hotel refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water. He took a long swig, then looked at her again. “I thought I’d come back here and see if you wanted to help me go through them. Maybe we can dig something up without any help from some all-knowing vampires.”
She grinned in response. “I would love to help Dr. Saltzman. Anything is better than watching Full House.”
He wrinkled his nose at her, and she wondered how she could have ever forgotten how gorgeous he was. “That’s what you were watching? Thank God I came to rescue you!”
Elena laughed loudly as he tossed her another bottle of water. She was amazed, she hadn’t laughed out loud in a long time. Odd that it should be Alaric to remind her that she did still have a sense of humor left.
He joined her, this time sitting next to her. They pulled the boxes on the bed, and began pawing through them eagerly. Elena wasn’t really sure what she was looking for, but as she began leafing through old documents and ancient-looking books, a sense of purpose washed over her, drawing her deeper within the box.
The only sound that pervaded the room was the gentle rustling of paper and the occasional interested murmur from Alaric. Elena herself was so intent upon her search that she didn’t even hear him.
She was flipping through a book entitled The Will of the Spirit, when her fingers took over for her brain. She literally felt herself go on auto-pilot as she turned the pages rapidly. She hitched in a quick breath as her hands automatically stopped somewhere in the middle of the book. As she looked down and read the words, familiarity and accomplishment overcame her. She knew this. . .
Dream of the one
Whose birth meant death,
The Constant of the Mind
Longs to take breath.
Visions pervade--
The Dreamer will die
With a thousand more,
Underneath the vast sky.
Life can be saved
Only on the night,
When the blood of the Power
Is shed by the Light.
She did know it, the only problem was. . .she didn’t know how. It wasn’t in English. And as she understood it, she realized that it was wrong. . .it had been altered in a way. If only she knew how. . .
“Alaric?” Her voice was scratchy. She cleared her throat.
He looked up from the notes he was taking. “Yeah, did you find something?”
*Yes!* her mind screamed.
“I don’t know,” she chose to state verbally. She handed the book to him and watched breathlessly as he studied the page that she pointed out..
“This is Gaelic. What made you stop at this?”
She shrugged. “I just had a feeling.” He glanced up at her and she added, “Sorry.”
He snorted. “These days I’ll take vague feelings gladly. It’s more than what we’ve been going on.”
“What is it?” she asked, a tad impatiently.
Alaric turned his attention back to the book. “I’m not sure. My Gaelic is extremely rusty. . .in fact, it’s never been anything but rusty. I can make out a bit about dreams, and death. . .and those certainly seem to be popular subjects in Fell’s Church lately.”
She groaned inwardly. “Yes, but do you—“ She stopped.
He glanced up quickly. “Do I what?”
She sniffed the air delicately. “Do you smell that?”
Confusion washed over Alaric’s face, but he began to purposefully inhale deeply. Recognition came into his eyes.
