"Are you sure you don't want us to cal your parents, miss?" The campus security officer's voice was gruff but kind, and his eyes were worried.
For a second, Meredith let herself picture having the kind of parents he must be imagining: ones who would swoop in to rescue their daughter, wrap her up and take her home until the horrible images of her friend's death faded.
Her parents would just tel her to get on with the job. Tel her that any other reaction was a failure. If she let herself be weak, more people would die.
More so because Samantha had been a hunter, from a family of hunters, like Meredith. Meredith knew exactly what her father would have said if she had cal ed him. "Let this be a lesson to you. You are never safe."
"I'l be okay," she told the security guard. "My roommates are upstairs."
He let her go, watching her climb the stairs with a distressed expression. "Don't worry, miss," he cal ed. "The police wil get this guy."
Meredith bit back her first reply, which was that he seemed to be putting a lot of faith in a police force that had yet to find any clues as to the whereabouts of the missing people or to solve Christopher's murder. He was only trying to comfort her. She nodded to him and gave a little wave.
She hadn't been any more successful than the police, not even with Samantha's help. She hadn't been trying hard enough, had been too distracted by the new place, the new people.
Why now? Meredith wondered suddenly. It hadn't occurred to her before, but this was the first death, attack, or disappearance that took place in a dorm room instead of out on the quad or paths of the campus. Whatever this was, it came after Samantha specifical y.
Meredith remembered the dark figure she chased away after it attacked a girl, a girl who said she didn't remember anything. Meredith recal ed the flash of pale hair as the figure turned away. Did Samantha die because they got too close to the kil er?
Her parents were right. No one was ever safe. She needed to work harder, needed to get on with the job and fol ow up on every lead.
Upstairs, Bonnie's bed was empty. Elena looked up from where she was lying, curled up on her bed. Part of Meredith noted that Elena's face was wet with tears and knew that usual y she would have dropped everything to comfort her friend, but now she had to focus on finding Samantha's kil er.
Meredith crossed to her own closet, opened it, and pul ed out a heavy black satchel and the case for her hunter's stave.
"Where's Bonnie?" she asked, tossing the satchel onto her bed and unbuckling it.
"She left before I got up," Elena answered, her voice shaky. "I think she had a study group this morning.
Meredith, what's going on?"
Meredith flipped the satchel open and began to pul out her knives and throwing stars.
"What's going on?" Elena asked again, more insistently, her eyes wide.
"Samantha's dead," Meredith said, testing the edge of a knife against her thumb. "She was murdered in her bed by whatever's been stalking this campus, and we need to stop it." The knife could be sharper - Meredith had been letting her weapons maintenance slide - and she dug in the bag for a whetstone.
"What?" Elena said. "Oh, no, oh, Meredith, I'm so sorry." Tears began to run down her face again, and Meredith looked over at her, holding out the bag with the stave in it.
"There's a smal black box in my desk with little bottles of different poison extracts inside it," she said. "Wolfsbane, vervain, snake venoms. We don't know what we're dealing with exactly, so you'd better fil the hypodermics with a variety of things. Be careful," she added.
Elena's mouth dropped open, and then, after a few seconds, she closed it firmly and nodded, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Meredith knew that her message - mourn later, act now - had been received and that Elena, as always, would work with her.
Elena put the stave on her bed and found the box of poisons in Meredith's desk. Meredith watched as Elena figured out how to fil the tiny hypodermics inset in the ironwood of the stave, her steady fingers pul ing them out and working them cautiously open. Once she was sure Elena knew what she was doing, Meredith went back to sharpening her knife.
"They must have come after Samantha on purpose. She wasn't a chance victim," Meredith said, her eyes on the knife as she drew it rhythmical y against the whetstone. "I think we need to assume that whoever this is knows we're hunting him, and that therefore we're in danger." She shuddered, remembering her friend's body. "Samantha's death was brutal."
"A car tried to run me and Damon down last night," Elena said. "We had been trying to investigate something weird in the library, but I don't know if that's why. I couldn't get a look at the driver."
Meredith paused in her knife sharpening. "I told you that Samantha and I chased away someone attacking a girl on campus," she said thoughtful y, "but I didn't tel you one thing, because I wasn't sure. I'm stil not sure." She told Elena about her impressions of the black-clad figure, including the momentary impression of paleness below the hoodie, of almost white hair.
Elena frowned, her fingers faltering on the staff.
"Zander?" she asked.
They both looked at Bonnie's unmade bed.
"She real y likes him," Meredith said slowly. "Wouldn't she know if there was something wrong with him? You know..." She made a vague gesture around her head, trying to indicate Bonnie's history of visions.
"We can't count on that," Elena said, frowning. "And she doesn't remember the things she sees. I don't think he's right for Bonnie," she continued. "He's so - I mean, he's good-looking, and friendly, but he seems off somehow, doesn't he? And his friends are jerks. I know it's a long way from having terrible friends to being dangerous enough to do something like this, but I don't trust him."
"Can you ask Stefan to watch him?" Meredith asked. "I know you're taking a break from dating, but this is important, and a vampire would be the best one to keep an eye on him." Stefan looked so sad the other night, she thought distantly. Why shouldn't Elena cal him? Life was short. She felt the blade of the knife against her thumb again. Better. Putting the sharpened knife down, she reached for another.
Elena wasn't answering, and Meredith looked up to see her staring hard at the stave, her mouth trembling. "I -
Stefan isn't talking to me," she said in a little burst. "I don't think - I don't know if he'd help us." She closed her mouth firmly, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
"Oh," Meredith said. It was hard to imagine Stefan not doing what Elena wanted, but it was also clear that Elena didn't want to ask him. "Should I cal Damon?" she suggested reluctantly. The older vampire was a pain, and she didn't real y trust him, but he was certainly good at being sneaky.
Elena sucked in a breath and then nodded briskly, her mouth set. "No, I'l cal him," she said. "I'l ask Damon to investigate Zander."
Meredith sighed and leaned back against the wal , letting the knife drop onto her bed. Suddenly, she was terribly tired. Waiting for Samantha in the gym that morning seemed like a mil ion years ago, but it stil wasn't even lunchtime. She and Elena both looked at Bonnie's bed again.
"We have to talk to her about Zander, don't we?" Elena asked quietly. "We have to ask her whether he was with her al last night. And we have to warn her." Meredith nodded and closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the coolness of the wal , then opened them again. Tired as she was, she knew the images of Samantha's death would come back to her if she let herself pause for even a moment. She didn't have time to rest, not while the kil er was out there. "She's not going to be happy about it."
