Chapter 20 : Council Secrets
Tyler dropped the box of folding chairs with a crash that echoed through the Lockwood foyer.
"This is the last time I help with these stupid meetings," he announced to no one in particular. "Every month they take over the house, every month I'm the free labor."
I set my own box down more carefully. "What meetings?"
"Historical Society crap." Tyler wiped sweat from his forehead. "Dad pretends it's about preserving Mystic Falls heritage or whatever. Really it's just old people drinking bourbon and complaining about property taxes."
The Lockwood mansion was in post-event chaos—furniture scattered, glasses abandoned, the debris of whatever "Historical Society" gathering had ended an hour ago. Tyler's father had volunteered his son for cleanup duty, and Tyler had volunteered me because misery loved company.
"How many more trips?" I asked.
"Three, maybe four." Tyler headed toward the back hallway. "Storage is through here."
I followed, carrying another box of chairs. The mansion was massive—more rooms than any family needed, corridors branching in unexpected directions. Matt's memories provided a basic map, but the layout still surprised me sometimes.
We passed a closed door, heavy oak, light visible through the crack at the bottom.
Voices filtered through. Muffled, but audible if you were paying attention.
"—attacks in Richmond are escalating. Three bodies this month alone."
I slowed my pace. Tyler was ahead of me, oblivious, complaining about something.
"The vervain distribution is holding locally, but if they come HERE—"
My blood went cold.
"—1864 protocols are clear. Containment first, elimination if necessary—"
"Matt?" Tyler had stopped at the end of the hallway, looking back. "You coming?"
"Yeah." I forced my feet to move. "Sorry, this box is heavier than I thought."
We stored the chairs and went back for another load. I positioned myself near the study door as we passed, straining to catch more fragments.
"—Sheriff Forbes, your deputies need to be briefed—"
"—not without Council approval. We've kept this contained for a century—"
The door opened suddenly.
Mayor Lockwood stepped out, drink in hand, and nearly collided with me. His eyes narrowed with immediate suspicion.
I raised the box I was carrying. "Tyler's room?"
A beat of silence. The Mayor's gaze swept over me—assessing, calculating, dismissing.
"Down the hall, second left." His voice was flat. "Don't wander."
"Yes, sir."
I moved past him, heart hammering against my ribs. Behind me, I heard the study door close again, voices resuming in lower tones.
They know.
The Founders Council knew about vampires. Had known for over a century. They had protocols, vervain distribution, containment strategies. The town wasn't defenseless—it had an entire shadow infrastructure designed to fight the supernatural.
And they were tracking attacks in Richmond. Monitoring threats. Preparing for the possibility that vampires might come to Mystic Falls.
They have no idea what's actually coming.
Stefan Salvatore wasn't a random threat. He was returning home—to the town where his father had led the vampire purge, where his lover had supposedly been sealed in a tomb. Damon was coming for Katherine. The attacks would be personal, targeted, impossible to predict with 1864 protocols.
But the Council was still a resource. If I could access their intelligence, their vervain supply, their knowledge of vampire weaknesses...
Tyler appeared at the end of the hall. "Dude, my dad's in a mood. Let's get this done and get out of here."
"Yeah. Right behind you."
We finished the cleanup in fifteen minutes. The Mayor didn't reappear, but I felt watched the entire time—whether by security cameras or simple paranoia, I couldn't tell.
Tyler grabbed two sodas from the Lockwood mini-fridge and tossed one to me. The bottle was imported, expensive, the kind of thing rich kids took for granted.
"Thanks for helping." Tyler cracked his open. "I owe you one."
"It's fine."
"No, seriously." He dropped onto a leather couch, exhausted. "You're the only one who actually shows up when I ask. Everyone else has excuses."
I drank the soda without tasting it. My mind was racing through implications, connections, possibilities.
The Founders Council was a double-edged sword. They had resources I needed, but they were also gatekeepers. If I approached them wrong—revealed too much, asked the wrong questions—I'd become a threat instead of an asset.
Research first. Understand their protocols. Then decide.
"You okay?" Tyler was watching me with unusual perceptiveness. "You've been weird all night."
"Just tired." The lie came easily. "Long week."
"Yeah, I bet." He grinned. "Caroline Forbes is exhausting even when you're just dating her."
I blinked. "We're not—"
"Please. Everyone saw you two at the Fourth of July party." Tyler's grin widened. "Elena's already planning the wedding."
"That's... premature."
"That's Elena." He shrugged. "But seriously, Caroline's good people. High-maintenance, but good. You could do worse."
I could also fail to protect her entirely. Watch her become Damon's victim. Let the pattern repeat.
"Thanks for the endorsement," I said.
We finished our sodas and I headed for the door. Tyler walked me out, still oblivious to what I'd overheard, what was hiding in plain sight in his own home.
The drive home was quiet. I turned over the fragments in my mind, assembling them into a picture.
The Founders Council knows about vampires. They have protocols from 1864. They're tracking attacks in Richmond. They maintain vervain distribution.
And they have no idea that two of the vampires from 1864 are coming home.
Fell's Church. The tomb. Katherine Pierce—except Katherine had never been in the tomb. She'd escaped, left Damon and Stefan chasing a ghost for over a century.
The tomb vampires were the real threat. Starving, feral, sealed underground for 145 years. If the tomb opened...
Research the protocols. Find the tomb. Prepare for everything.
The trailer appeared out of the darkness. Vicki's car was in the driveway—she'd been coming home more regularly since our talk, though the track marks on her arm hadn't disappeared.
Small victories. Incomplete progress.
I parked and sat in the silence, processing.
The town wasn't defenseless. The Council had been fighting this war for generations. Maybe I didn't have to do this alone.
But first, I needed to understand what they knew.
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