[Location: The Cross Residence – Kitchen] [Time: 7:00 AM – The Morning After]
The morning sun didn't feel cleansing; it felt like a spotlight on a crime scene.
I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the Mystic Falls Daily on the counter. The headline was bold and predictable: ANIMAL ATTACK LEAVES STUDENT CRITICAL.
"It's awful," my mom said, cracking eggs into a pan. Her hands were trembling slightly. "Sheila at the grocery store said it was a mountain lion. But... in the town square? During a festival?"
"Animals get desperate when their habitat shrinks," I said, reciting the Council's cover story. It was easier to lie to her than to explain that we were living in a vampire buffet. "It was chaos last night. Loud music, food smells. Probably confused the bear."
"I don't want you out past dark, Adrian," my dad said, walking in and adjusting his tie. He looked serious. "I mean it. No late track practices. No parties in the woods."
"I know, Dad," I said, taking a sip of coffee. "I'm not stupid."
I wasn't stupid. I was calculating.
I looked at the newspaper again. Sheriff Forbes was quoted: "We have game wardens sweeping the woods. The situation is under control."
It was a masterful lie. The Founders Council—the secret society of humans who knew about vampires—was working overtime. They were efficient. Ruthless.
I needed to be more ruthless.
I finished my coffee and stood up. "I'm gonna head to school early. I want to check on Jeremy."
"You're a good friend, Adrian," Mom smiled sadly.
I'm a handler, I corrected internally. But sure, let's call it friendship.
[Location: Mystic Falls High School – Library] [Time: 8:15 AM]
The school was quiet. A somber, heavy blanket of fear had settled over the hallways. People whispered in huddles.
I bypassed the gossip and went straight to the library computers. I needed a secure connection that wasn't my home IP address.
I logged in and pulled up the faculty directory for Whitmore College.
Whitmore was the Ivy League of the supernatural world. It was funded by old money, built on torture chambers, and currently home to the Augustine Society—a group of scientists who experimented on vampires.
I scrolled past the History and Literature departments until I found Biology & Genetics.
There he was. Dr. Wes Maxfield. Professor of Microbiology. Researcher in Cellular Regeneration and Rare Pathogens.
In the show, Wes is a cold, calculating sociopath who eventually creates the Ripper Virus. Right now, he was just a professor looking for a breakthrough.
I opened a word processor. I needed to get into his lab. I couldn't just walk in as a high schooler and ask for vampire juice. I needed him to invite me.
I cracked my knuckles. This was where Kenji Sato, the corporate salaryman, shined. I knew how to write a pitch.
Subject: Research Proposal regarding Cellular Rapid-Regeneration in Mammalian Tissue
Dear Dr. Maxfield,
I am a student at Mystic Falls High, but my research interests far exceed the secondary curriculum. I have been following your published work on pathogen resistance, particularly your 2007 paper on aberrant blood cells.
I am currently conducting an independent study on the anomalies of hematology in the Mystic Falls region. I believe I have identified a statistical irregularity in the healing rates of certain local fauna that aligns with your theories on regenerative biology.
I am not looking for credit. I am looking for access to a lab that can handle the samples I have collected. I would welcome the opportunity to discuss this with you.
Regards, Adrian Cross
It was bait.
"Hematology anomalies" = Vampire blood properties.
"Local fauna" = I know something about the "animals" attacking people.
"Not looking for credit" = Free labor.
Wes Maxfield was arrogant. He wouldn't see a high schooler; he would see a potential protégé—or a guinea pig. Either way, it got me in the door.
I hit Send.
[Location: The Hallway] [Time: 10:30 AM]
"Adrian."
I closed my locker. Jeremy Gilbert was standing there. He looked worse than he did last night. His eyes were red-rimmed, his skin pale. He was vibrating with a mix of caffeine, grief, and trauma.
"Hey," I said, keeping my voice low. "How is she?"
"She woke up," Jeremy whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "But she's... weird, Adrian. She doesn't remember anything. She says she found herself in the woods and tripped."
Compulsion. Damon had gotten to her in the hospital. He erased the attack.
"That's... good, right?" I said carefully. "Better than remembering being mauled."
"No!" Jeremy hissed. "I saw her neck, Adrian. You saw it. That wasn't a trip. And she's... she's hungry. She ate three jello cups while I was there. She's complaining about the light."
My stomach tightened.
Damon hadn't just attacked her. He had fed her his blood. Vicki wasn't a vampire yet, but she had vampire blood in her system. If she died—if someone suffocated her or snapped her neck—she would transition.
"Jeremy," I said, gripping his shoulder. "Listen to me. She lost a lot of blood. Her body is in shock. It does weird things. Just... keep an eye on her. If she starts acting really strange—like, aggressive—call me. Don't call the cops. Call me."
Jeremy looked at me. He was desperate for someone to tell him what to do. "Okay. Okay, I will."
"Mr. Cross! Mr. Gilbert!"
We turned. Mr. Tanner was marching down the hall, looking pissed off.
"The bell rang five minutes ago," Tanner barked. "Unless you two are planning to reinvent the wheel in the hallway, get to class."
I looked at Tanner. The man was a walking corpse. He was going to die tonight.
"Sorry, Mr. Tanner," I said smoothly. "Jeremy was just giving me an update on Vicki. We're going."
Tanner's face softened for a fraction of a second—he wasn't a total monster, just a jerk—but he quickly recovered his scowl. "Go."
We walked away.
I looked at Tanner's back. Save him? No. Tanner's death was the catalyst. It was the event that forced the Town Council to mobilize. If Tanner lived, the town stayed complacent, and more people died.
I was an opportunist, not a saint. Tanner had to go.
[Location: Football Practice Field] [Time: 3:45 PM]
The air was thick with the smell of sweat and freshly cut grass. The team was running drills.
I was on the bleachers, "studying." In reality, I was watching Stefan.
Stefan had joined the team. He was on the field, moving with a grace that made the human players look like toddlers. He caught a pass that was thrown too high, landed effortlessly, and ran it in.
Elena was watching from the sidelines, looking smitten.
Then, I saw the crow.
It landed on the goalpost. It let out a sharp, grating caw.
Damon was here.
I scanned the perimeter. I spotted him leaning against the fence near the parking lot. He was wearing sunglasses, looking bored, watching Stefan play house.
He turned his head. Even from fifty yards away, I felt his eyes lock onto me.
He pushed off the fence and started walking toward the bleachers.
Here we go.
I didn't run. I turned a page in my textbook. Calculus.
"Riveting stuff," a voice said.
I looked up. Damon was standing three steps below me. He took off his sunglasses. His blue eyes were piercing.
"It gets better in Chapter 4," I said dryly. "The derivatives really add some suspense."
Damon smirked. He climbed up and sat next to me. Too close. Invasive.
"You're the hero," Damon said. "The kid who saved the Donovan girl."
"I just put pressure on a wound," I said, closing the book. "Right place, wrong time."
"Is that what it was?" Damon asked. He leaned in. "My brother seems to think you're traumatized. He says you saw a 'shadow'."
This was the test.
"I saw something," I said, keeping my heartbeat steady. "It was fast. It was big. Honestly? I was terrified. I just wanted to stop the bleeding."
Damon stared at me. He was listening to my heart. It was beating fast (fear), but steady (truth).
"You know," Damon said, his voice dropping to a hypnotic register. He locked eyes with me. "This town is full of things that go bump in the night. Maybe you should be careful where you stick your nose."
He wasn't compelling me yet. He was threatening me.
"I'm from the city," I said, feigning a bit of bravado. "I know when to walk away."
Damon smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Smart kid. Do yourself a favor, Adrian. Go home. Skip the game tonight. It's going to be... a killer."
He patted my shoulder. His grip was like iron.
Then he stood up and walked away.
I let out a breath.
He suspected me. Not of being a threat, but of being a nuisance. He told me to skip the game because he was planning to cause chaos, and he didn't want the "hero witness" messing it up again.
I waited until he was gone. Then I checked my phone.
New Email. From: [email protected] Subject: RE: Research Proposal
Mr. Cross, Your claims are bold. If you have samples, bring them to Lab 3B tomorrow at 4:00 PM. Do not waste my time.
I smiled.
Damon thought he was scaring me away. He had no idea he just gave me the perfect alibi.
[Location: The Football Game] [Time: 8:00 PM]
The lights of the stadium were blinding. The crowd roared. The band played.
I was there, but I stayed near the exit.
I watched the game unfold. Stefan was the star. Tyler was jealous.
Then, the fight happened. Tyler and Jeremy got into a brawl under the bleachers. Stefan intervened.
I used the distraction to slip away toward the parking lot.
As I reached my Jeep, the screaming started.
It wasn't a cheer. It was a scream of horror.
I turned back.
In the middle of the parking lot, Mr. Tanner was lying on the asphalt.
People were running.
"He's dead! Oh my god, he's dead!"
I stood by my car, watching the chaos.
Damon had killed him. Right on schedule.
I saw Stefan running toward the body. I saw Bonnie and Elena huddled together, crying.
It was tragic. It was brutal.
But as I unlocked my car door, I felt a cold sense of detachment.
Tanner's death meant the curfew would start. It meant the Council would hand out vervain to the "inner circle." It meant the vampires would get sloppy.
And while everyone was crying over a history teacher, I was going to Whitmore College to steal the blood of a god.
I got in the car.
"Rest in peace, Tanner," I whispered, turning the key. "Your sacrifice is noted."
I drove out of the lot before the police arrived.
Next Stop: Whitmore College. Objective: The Augustine Serum.