Stefan stiffened. He had studied Mirandola's work on reason and philosophy with enthusiasm back when he was stil alive, when he was a young man preparing for the university. He had a sudden visceral longing to feel the old leather and parchment, see the blocky type from the first days of the printing press, so much more right somehow than the modern computer-set books. There was no way Ethan should have known to offer him that specific book.
His eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think I'd want that?" he hissed, leaning across the table toward Ethan. He could feel Power surging through him, fueled by his rage, but Ethan wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I ... you told me you like old books, Stefan," he said, and gave a little false laugh, gazing down at the tabletop. "I thought you would be interested."
"No, thank you," Stefan said, low and angry. He couldn't force Ethan to look him in the eye, not with al these people around, so after a moment, he stood. "I refuse your offer," he told Ethan shortly. "Good-bye."
He walked to the door without looking back, holding himself straight and tal . He glanced at Matt, who was talking to another student, as he reached the door and, when Matt met his eyes, gave him a shrug and a shake of the head, trying to telegraph an apology. Matt nodded, disappointed but not arguing.
No one tried to stop Stefan as he left the room. But he had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something wrong here. He didn't know enough to dissuade Matt from joining, but he decided to keep tabs on the Vitale Society. As he shut the door behind him, he could sense Ethan watching him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Moonlight shone in the window, iluminating a long swath of Elena's bed. Meredith had tossed and turned for a while, but now Elena could hear her steady breathing. It was good that Meredith was sleeping. She was exhausting herself: working out constantly, patrol ing every night, making sure al her weapons were in prime condition, wild with frustration that they weren't able to find any solid clues as to the kil er's identity.
But it was lonely being the only one awake.
Elena stretched her legs under the sheets and flipped over her pil ow to rest her head on the cooler side.
Branches tapped against the window, and Elena wiggled her shoulders against the mattress, trying to calm her busy mind. She wished Bonnie would come home.
The tapping on the window came again, then again, sharp peremptory raps.
Slowly, it dawned on Elena, a little late, that there weren't any trees whose branches touched that window.
Heart pounding, she sat up with a gasp.
Eyes black as night peered in the window, skin as pale as the moonlight. It took Elena's brain a minute to start working again, but then she was out of bed and opening the window. He was so quick and graceful that by the time she shut the window and turned around, Damon was seated on her bed, leaning back on his elbows and looking total y at ease.
"Some vampire hunter she is," he said cool y, looking over at Meredith as she made a soft whuffling sound into her pil ow. His gaze, though, was almost affectionate.
"That's not fair," Elena said. "She's exhausted."
"Someday her life might depend on her staying alert even when she's exhausted," Damon said pointedly.
"Okay, but today is not that day," Elena said. "Leave Meredith alone and tel me what you've found out about Zander." Sitting down cross-legged on the bed next to him, she leaned forward to give Damon her ful attention.
Damon took her hand, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers. "I haven't learned anything definite," he said, "but I have suspicions."
"What do you mean?" Elena said, distracted. Damon was stroking her arm lightly with his other hand, feather touches, and she realized he was watching her closely, waiting to see if she would object. Inwardly, she shrugged a little. What did it matter, after al ? Stefan had left her; there was no reason now to push Damon away. She glanced over at Meredith, but the dark-haired girl was stil deeply asleep.
Damon's dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, because he leaned closer to her on the bed, pul ing her snugly against him. "I need to investigate a little more," Damon said.
"There's definitely something off about him and those boys he runs around with. They're too fast, for one thing. But I don't think Bonnie's in any immediate danger." Elena stiffened in his arms. "What proof do you have of that?" she asked. "And it's not just Bonnie. If anyone's in danger, they have to be our top priority."
"I'l watch them, don't worry." He chuckled, a dry, intimate sound. "He and Bonnie are certainly getting close. She seems besotted."
Elena twisted away from his careful hands, feeling anxious. "If he could be dangerous, if there's anything off about him the way you say, we have to warn her about him.
We can't just sit by watching and waiting for him to do something wrong. By then, it might be too late." Damon pul ed her back to him, his hand flat and steady against her side. "You already tried warning Bonnie, and that didn't work, did it? Why would she listen to you now that she's spent more time with him, bonding with him, and nothing bad's happened to her?" He shook his head. "It won't work, princess."
"I just wish we could do something," Elena said miserably.
"If I had gotten a look at the bodies," Damon said thoughtful y, "I might have more of an idea of what could be behind this. I suppose breaking into the morgue is out of the question?"
Elena considered this. "I think they've probably released the bodies by now," she said doubtful y, "and I'm not sure where they'd take them next. Wait!" She sat up straight.