Stephen Salvatore's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

The plant sat wrapped in cloth in Stephen's bag. He needed one afternoon alone to find Elena's aunt and ask what she remembered. But Damon had noticed the pattern. Every time Stephen slipped out, Damon appeared. Now his brother stayed close, arms crossed, blue eyes tracking every step. Stephen had no window. The ritual was near, and he could not reach for it. Stephen tried a small test. He said he wanted a drink at the old brick bar near the square. Damon followed him inside, sat one stool down, and watched the door. Warm lights glowed over the bottles. A pool table sat by the window. Damon smiled without warmth. "Take your time," he said. "I've got nowhere to be. Neither do you." Stephen understood. Damon would not blink. He would shadow him for weeks. The plant would rot before Stephen used it. Then Matt Donovan walked in. He was Elena's ex, blonde and steady, the kind of man who fixed things without being asked. He carried a toolbox toward the back. He and Stephen had met once through Elena. Matt saw the two brothers and read the room fast. He set the toolbox down. "Damon," Matt said. Flat. No warmth. "You broke the cooler line last week. Left before you paid." Damon turned, annoyed. "I don't fix pipes." "You broke it," Matt said. "So you look at it with me. Owner's watching. He'll ban you." Matt paused, corrected himself. "Ban both of you, actually. He doesn't know which one did it." Damon glanced at Stephen, torn. Stephen kept his face blank. He knew Damon guarded his welcome in every town. A ban meant no easy blood, no safe corner. Damon stood. "Two minutes," Damon told Stephen. "You stay on that stool." Matt led Damon to the back. As he passed Stephen, he spoke low. "Elena told me. Go. I'll keep him talking long as I can." Stephen moved. He left through the front and crossed the square past the fountain. He did not run; running drew eyes. He walked fast toward the street where Elena's aunt lived. Behind him, muffled, he heard Matt asking slow questions about valves and pressure, stretching each one. Stephen reached the porch and knocked. The aunt opened the door. She was old, sharp-eyed, and she knew Elena's name at once. Stephen asked about the journal, the plant, the ritual. "I read that book fifty times," she said. "The plant goes in still water. You burn it at the old church, at the graveyard behind it. Under a full moon. That's where the cure is done." Stephen's chest tightened. He had the place now. Fell's Church. The graveyard. But the aunt frowned. "Full moon was last night. You've missed it. Next one's a month out." Stephen stood on the porch with the answer he wanted and no way to use it yet. A month. And Damon would learn he had slipped the leash by nightfall.