The sun had long set, leaving my home steeped in cool darkness when I returned from the woods after hours of intense, draining work with Bonnie. Fatigue was a dull ache, but it was overridden by a sharp and nervous anticipation.
Steam still clouded the bathroom glass as I let the hot water run over me, cascading down my skin in waves. I stood beneath the blast, trying to wash away not just the residue of earth magic, but the tension that had been coiling inside me all day. The conversation with Stefan about my collapse, Bonnie's new questions about dark magic, and now the looming fundraiser at Mystic Grill. It was all culminating tonight.
The plan was simple. Meet Stefan, decipher the new information he had about Isobel and Trudie Peterson, and decide my next tactical step. But I forgot that nothing in Mystic Falls was ever simple. Every solved mystery introduced three more questions, and the atmosphere felt heavy with impending danger, like a storm gathering out of sight.
I shut off the water and grabbed the water, wiping myself dry with brisk, focused movements before wrapping it around my body. A glance at the clock told me I had just over an hour left. Plenty of time to armor myself.
I dressed in a fitted dark green sheath dress. The fabric was heavy and sleek, a deep forest shade that complemented the subtle copper flecks in my hair and the bronze of my eyes. It wasn't a choice for comfort, it was an outfit of subtle power, a necessary disguise.
As I applied a light layer of makeup and ran a brush through my Damon hair, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to Isobel. The name echoed in my head like a haunting refrain. Elena was unwittingly unraveling the threads of her life, discovering that she wasn't just the girl next door but part of something ancient, something that had drawn the attention of the oldest darkness I knew, Katherine Pierce. How deep this connection run? Why did Isobel's presence feel like a key to a much bigger, much older game?
My phone buzzed on the counter, jarring me back to the present. I glanced at the screen, another text from Stefan.
I have learned something new about Isobel. It's, complicated. we need to talk. - Stefan
I sighed as I placed my phone down. Complicated. In Mystic Falls, that word usually meant someone was dead, someone was lying, and a tomb was involved. After a few more finishing touches, a sweep of kohl liner, a dash of blood red lipstick, I grabbed my small, black clutch and headed out the door.
The Mystic Grill was predictably loud and crowded, thick with the buzz of the fundraiser. I spotted Stefan immediately. He was standing near the edge of the bar area. His back was straight, radiating a tension that was barely contained beneath his usual composed veneer. He was deep in conversation with a tall, slightly rumpled man I hadn't formally met, thought I recognized the face from fleeting glimpses around town.
Alaric Saltzman.
Using my vampire hearing, I tuned into their low pitched exchange. As their words, filtered in a cold sickening clarity washed over me, and my breath hitched.
"Did Damon tell you anything te?" Alaric asked, his voice was low and tight. It was filled with the quiet fury of a man struggling to maintain control in a public space. He took a heavy sip from his glass.
"No. Damon is not in a right mind at the moment. He's...going through something." Stefan responded with a weary sigh.
"When was he ever in a right mind?" Alaric scoffed and it was quick and ugly sound.
"Look. I asked him directly. He said he didn't remember. He said it was all a blur." Stefan said as he insisted with the defensive note in his voice that was faint but present.
"He killed my wife, Stefan. My wife. And he doesn't remember." Alaric said as his eyes narrowed. His gaze burning with a furious intensity that shook is usually calm demeanor.
A horrible dread settled in my stomach. The complexity of Elena's life was spiraling faster than I could track.
"Does Elena know about this?" Alaric asked. There was a shift in subject signaling a frantic attempt at preservation.
"No, an di want to keep it that way for now. I will tell her when I know more."
"You better make him remember, Stefan. Or I will add more things for you to worry about." Alaric warned as he leaned in, his voice was dangerously low.
I released my focus on the conversation as I pulled back my hearing instantly. I didn't want to intrude any further into a conversation this painfully personal, but the damage was done. Isobel was Alaric's wife. And Damon, in a moment of casual, monstrous indifference, had apparently killed her.
A few minutes later, Stefan disengaged from Alaric and made his way toward the quiet, slightly secluded table where I had taken a seat. He moved with a stiff glance, clearly trying to mask the anger and turmoil he felt. He looked tense but composed, ready to share the news. He opened his mouth to speak, a practiced formality already in place, but I cut him off.
"I heard." I raised a gentle but firm hand.
Stefan froze and his eyes that was already strained, flickering with surprise before settling into a weary resignation. He ran a hand over his jaw. He should have known better than to assume silence could exist in my presence.
"Then you know." He muttered as he sink heavily into the chair opposite me. I nodded at him as I maintained a calm exterior.
"So there are two things you found out, and two things you want to talk about." I said as I picked up the wine glass that a passing waiter had left. I swirled the liquid thoughtfully.
"One. Isobel is Alaric's missing wife, not a stranger and judging by the timing of their one sided breakup versus Elena's birth, Alaric is definitely not her father. Am I correct?"
"Yes. Isobel was married to Alaric before she was turned." Stefan said as he inclined his head slightly.
"Secondly. Damon killed Isobel, and you have no intention of Elena finding out until you can somehow sanitize the information." I said as I took a sip of the drink. It was straight bourbon, not wine and it was necessary for a conversation this stressful.
"I will tell Elena, but not now." Stefan said as he met my gaze, with a flicker of guilt crossing his face.
"When? When the truth is rotten, festering and she feels like the biggest fool in town?" I asked and my voice was low but sharp with genuine concern for Elena.
"When I have found out more. I need to confirm the details, the context." He repeated, sticking to his line. I sighed, shaking my head slowly.
"A little piece of advice, Stefan. For someone who champions honesty, you are becoming a master of catastrophic secrecy. Keeping secrets is a big NO. If she finds out about Damobn and Isobel froma anyone else, especially Alaric, given his fury, she will be so mad at you, she might never trust you fully again."
"I know, but I just need more time. I need to establish what Alaric said is true before I shatter her world."
"He is your brother, Stefan, I get it. But don't tell me that you don't know how out of control Damon is sometimes. I just met him, and I already know he is capable of it. If Alaric says he killed his wife, Damon probably did it in a Tuesday night fit of pique." I conceded and my voice softening slightly, as I acknowledge his internal conflict.
"Or there could be some misunderstanding." Stefan insisted. His belief in Damon's potential redemption still tragically high.
"Sure, Stefan. Continue believing that." I responded dryly, rolling my eyes just slightly. My tone was laced with exasperation.
"Also, I know you are preoccupied with Damon, Alaric, and Isobel, but that doesn't mean you should neglect Elena's immediate safety." I said as I leaned in, pivoting the conversation back to the immediate threat.
"What are you talking about?" Stefan frowned in confusion, the shift in topic jarring him.
"Did you know she went to see Trudie Peterson today? Alone." I said and Stefan's eyes widened immediately as his composure finally cracking.
"What? How did you know?"
"She told me. And she also told me not to tell you." I said simply.
"She always makes her own choices. I trust her. I know she is smart enough to not put herself in danger." Stefan said as he exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, running his hands over his face in a gesture of profound stress. I raised an eyebrow, showing how genuinely unsatisfied I was.
"This is not just about Elena doing what she wants, Stefan. This is about being caught in a deadly crossfire. We are dealing with ancient forces, powerful witches, and Damon's volatile past. And yet, she went off to meet someone who could have been a trap."
He opened his mouth to respond, a defensive argument already forming, but before he could say anything further, Elena walked over to our table. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and frustration. She had clearly spotted us talking.
"Did you go to see Trudie Peterson? Alone?" Stefan asked her.
"Did you tell him?" Elena's voice was sharp, and it was aimed straight at me. She was angry that I had broken her trust.
"I had to tell him. What you did was dangerous, Elena." I held her gaze calmly.
"I know, and I am sorry." Elena conceded, and she was looking contrite but still annoyed.
"It was an impulsive decision. And I promise I will not do it again." She looked from me to Stefan, seeking a measure of forgiveness. Stefan shook his head, letting out a small sigh, clearly unwilling to escalate the argument in public.
"How did it go with Trudie Peterson?" He asked, redirecting the energy.
"She knows about vampires. She made me vervain tea. She seemed really scared when I confronted her about knowing Isobel." Elena sat down next to Stefan, her hands fidgeting nervously.
I listened closely, feeling the wheels in my mind turning faster. This situation was becoming a dense knot of danger. Trudie was aware and terrified. Isobel was married to Alaric. And Damon...
Is Damon truly did killed Isobel?
Is Alaric Saltzman an ally or an enemy?