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and swallowed hard. The hunter in Meredith wouldn’t hesitate to kill Damon if she thought he was a real danger to innocent humans. “You’re right,” she said thinly. “We can’t tell anyone.”
    Reaching across the body of unconscious girl, Stefan took Elena’s hand in his again. She clasped his hand tightly, her eyes meeting his in a silent pledge. They would work together; they would save Damon. It was going to be all right.

Chapter 4
    E lena didn’t tell anyone about the girl they’d found in the woods. Elena and Stefan had shaken the girl and poured cool water on her face, trying to wake her up without having to take her to the hospital. Blood had pooled through the bandages they’d put on the girl’s wounds—Damon had bitten too deeply, Stefan said—and finally Stefan had fed her blood from his own wrist, grimacing, to help her heal. He didn’t feel right doing that, Elena knew: the exchange of blood was too intimate, meant love to Stefan, but what else could they do? They couldn’t let her die.
    When the girl finally regained consciousness, Stefan Influenced her to forget what had happened, and he and Elena helped her back to her sorority house. By the time they’d left her, near dawn, she’d been flushed and giggling, sure that she’d just been out too late drinking on a fabulous night.
    Back in her dorm room, Elena had tried to sleep, but she’d been too worked up. She tossed and turned under her clean cotton sheets, remembering the frustration in Stefan’s eyes as he told her, Damon did this , and the suppressed flash of panic she’d seen when he said, We have to keep this a secret.
    She’d known Damon still fed off humans, although she usually managed not to think about it. But he hadn’t done any real harm, not for a long time. Now he used his Power to convince pretty girls to give him their blood willingly, and then left them with nothing but a vague memory of an evening spent with a charming and mysterious man with an Italian accent. If that. Sometimes they just had a hole in their memory.
    And, sure, it was wrong. Elena knew that, even if Damon didn’t. The girls weren’t in their right minds. He fed on them, and they never really understood. Elena was sure that if it happened to her, or Bonnie, or anyone she cared about, she would have been outraged and disgusted. But she’d been able to ignore the facts when the end result—Damon satisfied, his victims seemingly unscathed—appeared to be so benign.
    But this time he clearly hadn’t bothered to be careful with the girl, or to make it easy on her. She’d been bleeding alone in the woods, and when she’d finally woken, she had been screaming. Elena shuddered at the memory, sick with guilt.
    Was this the reality she’d been ignoring? Maybe Damon had been attacking people all this time and hiding it from her, and the idea of the woozy, unaware, and happy victim was a lie. Or maybe there had been a change, and it was Elena’s fault. Had Damon done this in a rage, because Elena had chosen Stefan?
     
    Elena tried once more to reach Damon, but when it rang through to voice mail, she pushed the “end call” button on her phone. She’d been calling Damon on and off all morning and had left a couple of messages already, but he hadn’t picked up or called her back.
    “Was that Stefan?” Bonnie asked, coming out of the bathroom toweling off her hair. Red strands curled wildly over her face in all directions. “Is he on his way?”
    “Everybody should be here any minute,” Elena answered, not correcting Bonnie’s assumption. They had decided to meet today to start planning their defense against the Vitale vampires, and to try to figure out how to stop them before they could resurrect Klaus.
    And soon, everyone (except Damon) was there: Meredith sitting on her bed, gray eyes alert as she carefully sharpened a hunting knife; Matt, still looking pale, hunched over in Elena’s desk chair; Bonnie and Zander cuddled together on