I do. No matter the consequences.
Is this what following your heart is? I wish there was a map or a compass to help me find my way. But she has my heart, and that above all else is my North Star ... and that will have to be enough.
After I slipped away from the carriage house back to my own chambers, I somehow managed to sleep for a few hours. When I awoke, I wondered if everything was all a dream. But then I shifted my head on the pillow and saw a neat puddle of dried, crimson blood and touched my fingers to my throat. I felt a wound there, and though it didn't hurt, it brought back the very real incidents of the previous evening.
I felt exhausted and confused and exalted all at once. My limbs were enervated, my brain abuzz. It was as if I had a fever, but inside I felt a sort of calm I'd never felt before.
I dressed for the day, taking extra care to wash the wound with a damp cloth and bandage it, then buttoned my linen shirt as high as it would go. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I tried to see if there was anything different, if there was some glint in my eye that acknowledged my newfound worldliness. But my face looked just as it had yesterday.
I crept down the back stairs toward the study. Father's schedule was like clockwork, and he always spent the mornings surveying and visiting the fields with Robert.
Once I closed myself in the cool, dark room, I ran my fingers along the leather-bound spines on each shelf, feeling comforted by their smoothness. I just hoped that somewhere, in the stacks and shelves of books on every subject, there would be a volume that would answer some of my questions. I remembered Katherine reading The Mysteries of Mystic Falls and noticed the volume was no longer in the study, or at least not in plain view.
I walked aimlessly from shelf to shelf, for the first time feeling overwhelmed by the number of books in Father's study. Where could I possibly find information on vampires? Father had volumes of plays, fiction, atlases, and two full shelves of Bibles, some in English, some in Italian, and some in Latin. I traced my hands against the gilt- lettered, leather spines of each book, hoping that somehow I'd find something.
Finally, my fingertips landed on a thin, tattered volume with Demonios written in flaking silver on the spine. Demonio ... demon ... This was what I was looking for. I opened the book, but it was written in an ancient Italian dialect that I couldn't make heads nor tails of, despite my extensive tutoring in Latin and Italian.
Still, I carried the book with me to the club chair and settled in. Trying to decipher the book was an action I could understand, something easier than trying to eat breakfast while pretending everything was normal. I ran my fingers along the words, reading out loud as if I were a schoolboy, making sure I didn't miss a mention of the word vampiro. Finally, I found it, but the sentences surrounding it were nothing but gibberish to me. I sighed in frustration.
Just then, the door to the study creaked open.
"Who's there?" I called loudly.
"Stefan!" My father's ruddy face registered surprise. "I was looking for you."
"Oh?" I asked, my hand flying to my neck, as if Father could see the bandage beneath the fabric. But all I felt was the smooth linen of my shirt. My secret was safe.
Father looked at me strangely. He walked toward me, taking the book off my lap. "Y and I
ou think alike," he said, a strange smile curving onto his face.
"We do?" My heart fluttered in my chest like a hummingbird's wings, and I was sure Father could hear my breath catching in short, shallow gasps in my throat. I felt sure he could read my thoughts, sure he knew about Katherine and me. And if he knew about Katherine, he'd kill her and ...
I couldn't bear to think of the rest.
Father smiled again. "We do. I know you took our conversation about vampires to heart, and I appreciate you taking this scourge seriously. Of course, I know you have your own motivations in avenging the death of your young Rosalyn," Father said, making the sign of the cross over his chest. I stared at a thin spot on the Oriental rug, where the fabric was so faded, I could see the stained wooden floor below. I couldn't look up at Father and let my face betray my secret, betray Katherine's secret.
"Be assured, son, that Rosalyn did not die in vain. She died for Mystic Falls, and she will be remembered as we rid our town of this curse. And you, of course, will be an integral part of the plan." Father gestured toward the book I still held. "Unlike your good-for-nothing brother. What good is all his new military knowledge if he can't put it to use to defend his family, his land?" Father asked rhetorically. "Just today he went off on a ride with some of his soldier friends. Even after I told him I expected him here this morning to accompany us to our meeting at Jonathan's house."
But I wasn't paying attention anymore. All I cared about was that he didn't know about Katherine. My breathing slowed. "There wasn't very much information that I could understand in this book. I don't think it's very useful," I said, as if all I'd been doing this morning was indulging in a scholarly interest in vampires.
"That's just as well," Father said dismissively, as he carelessly placed the book back on the shelf. "I feel that together we have a good store of knowledge."
"Together?" I parroted.
Father waved his hand impatiently. "Y and I
ou Father waved his hand impatiently. "Y and I
ou and the Founders. We've set up a council to deal with this. We're heading to a meeting right now. Y ou're coming."
"I am?" I asked.
Father glanced at me in annoyance. I knew I sounded like a simpleton, but there was simply too much information swimming in my mind to even begin to understand it all.