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spirits up," Bonnie said with a mischievous smile. "And you know what they say: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. My lemonade is having Matt trying to fulfil my every need. It's too bad we don't have more boys around here."

"Don't forget about Alaric," said Meredith. "He helped make the cookies. And he's downstairs researching everything he can that might be related to this."

"Ah, everyone catering to me, that's what I like," Bonnie joked. "Did I tel you how much I enjoyed the dinner you made? Al my favorites... it was like my birthday. Or my last meal," she added more soberly.

Meredith frowned. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay in here? I know we've protected the house as wel as we can, but we don't real y know what we're fighting. And just because the last couple of attacks took place in daylight with the whole group around, it doesn't necessarily mean that's the way they have to be. What if whatever this is can get past our defenses?"

"I wil be fine," said Bonnie. Intel ectual y she knew she was in danger, but oddly, she didn't feel scared. She was in a house with people she trusted, al of whom were focused wholeheartedly on her safety. Besides, she had a plan for the night - something she couldn't do if Meredith slept in the room.

"Are you sure?" Meredith fretted.

"Yes," Bonnie said emphatical y. "If something bad was going to happen to me tonight, I'd know in advance, right?

Because I'm psychic, and I get warnings about things."

"Hmmm," said Meredith, quirking one eyebrow. For a moment she looked like she was going to argue. Bonnie kept her gaze firm. Final y, Meredith put the tray of cookies on the table by the bed next to the teapot and cup Matt had brought up earlier, pul ed the curtains across the window, and looked anxiously around to see what else could be done.

"Okay, then," she said. "I'l be right next door if you need me."

"Thanks, Mer. Good night." As soon as the knob clicked into place, Bonnie lay back in bed and bit into a cookie. Delicious.

A slow smile bloomed on her lips. She was the center of attention now, as if she were a Victorian heroine bravely suffering from some kind of wasting il ness. She had been encouraged to pick out her favorite of the boardinghouse's many bedrooms and had chosen this one. It was a charming room with creamy rose-patterned wal paper and a maple sleigh bed.

Matt hadn't left her side al night. Mrs. Flowers had fussed around her, fluffing pil ows and offering her herbal tonics, and Alaric had been conscientiously researching protection spel s in al the grimoires he could find. Even Celia, who had never been anything but snippy to her about her "visions," promised before she left to let her know as soon as she found something helpful.

Bonnie turned on her side, inhaling the sweet scent of Mrs. Flowers's tea. Here in this cozy room, it was impossible to feel like she needed protection, that she could be in danger this very second.

But was she? What was the time frame after one's name was cal ed? After Celia's name had appeared, she had been attacked within the hour. After Meredith's had appeared, she hadn't been attacked until the next day. Maybe things were getting more spaced out. Maybe Bonnie wasn't going to be in danger until tomorrow or the next day. Or next week. And Damon's name had appeared before Bonnie's did.

Bonnie's skin tingled at the thought of Damon's name in lake weeds. Damon was dead. She had seen him die -

and in fact he'd died for her (although everyone else, in their compassion for Elena, seemed to have forgotten that). But the appearance of his name must mean something. And she was determined to figure out just what. She listened. She could hear the sounds of Meredith moving around in the room next door with a steady thumping that suggested she was practicing with her stave, and from down below came the faint voices of Matt, Alaric, and Mrs. Flowers talking in the study.

Bonnie could wait. She poured herself a cup of tea, crunched on another cookie, and wiggled her toes pleasurably under the soft pink sheets. She sort of liked being a supernatural invalid.

An hour later, she had finished her cup of tea and al the cookies, and the house was quieter. It was time. She climbed out