devotion at Elena's darkened window. Of course he was there, standing by to defend her against al the horrors of the night.
And just like that, Damon knew what he had to do: If he wanted to learn more about the phantom, he'd have to give himself over to it.
He closed his eyes, al owing every negative feeling he'd ever had about Stefan to wash over him. How Stefan had always taken everything Damon wanted, had stolen it, if he needed to.
Damn Stefan, Damon thought bitterly. If his brother hadn't come to town earlier than him, Damon would have had a chance to make Elena fal in love with him first, to be the one to reap the utter devotion he saw in her eyes when she looked at Stefan.
Instead, here he was, second-best. He hadn't been enough for Katherine either; she had wanted his brother, too. Elena, tiger to the kitten Katherine had been, would have been the perfect mate for Damon. Beautiful, strong, wily, capable of great love, they could have ruled the night together.
But she had fal en for his lily-livered weakling of a little brother. Damon's claws clenched the branch he sat on.
"Isn't it sad," a quiet voice beside him suggested, "how you try and try, but you're never enough for the women you love?"
A cool tendril of fog touched his wing. Damon straightened and looked around. Dark fog was winding around the quince tree, just at Damon's level. Below, Stefan stood unaware. The fog had come for Damon alone. With a private smile, Damon felt the fog envelop him, and then al was darkness.
Chapter 27
The next morning was another hot one. The air was so thick and humid that just walking down the street felt unpleasantly like getting slapped with a warm, damp washcloth. Even inside the car with the air-conditioning on, Elena could feel her usual y sleek hair frizzing from the humidity.
Stefan had turned up at her house just after breakfast, this time with a list of herbs and magical supplies Mrs. Flowers wanted them to find in town for new protection spel s.
As they drove, Elena gazed out the window at the neat white houses and trim green lawns of residential Fel 's Church as they gradual y gave way to the brick buildings and tasteful store windows of the shopping district at the center of town.
Stefan parked on the main street, outside a cute little cafe where they had sipped cappuccinos together last fal , shortly after she'd learned what he was. Sitting at one of the tiny tables, Stefan had told her how to make a traditional Italian cappuccino, and that had led to his reminiscing about the great feasts of his youth during the Renaissance: aromatic soups sprinkled with pomegranate seeds; rich roasts basted with rosewater; pastries with elder flowers and chestnuts. Course after course of sweet, rich, heavily spiced foods that a modern Italian would never recognize as part of his country's cuisine.
It had awed Elena when she realized how different the world had been the last time Stefan had eaten human food. He had mentioned in passing that forks had just been coming into fashion when he was young, and that his father had derided them as a foppish fad. Until Katherine had brought a more fashionable and ladylike influence into their home, they had eaten with only spoons and sharp knives for cutting. "It was elegant, though," he'd said, laughing at the expression on her face. "We al had excel ent table manners. You'd hardly have noticed."
At the time, she'd thought his differences from the boys she'd known - the scope of al the history he'd witnessed -
was romantic.
Now... wel , now she didn't know what she thought.
"It's down here, I think," said Stefan, taking her hand and returning her to the present. "Mrs. Flowers said a New Age store has opened up and that they should have most of the things we need."
The shop was cal ed Spirit and Soul, and it was tiny but vibrant, cluttered with crystals and unicorn figurines, tarot cards and dream catchers. Everything was painted in shades of purple and silver, and silky wal hangings blew in the breeze from a little windowsil air conditioner. The air conditioner wasn't strong enough to put much of a dent in the stickiness of today's heat, though, and the birdlike little woman with long curling hair and clattering necklaces who emerged from the back of the shop looked tired and sweaty.
"How can