Title: The World Is Not Enough (Part 1/1)
Author: Puck
E-mail: lsmith5@flash.net
Rating: 15 (language & violence)
Spoilers: VD (vampire diaries, not venereal disease)

Summary: Damon finds himself in a small town caught up in brutal
murders. They seem to be connected to a pretty, but bitchy girl at
Silver Creek High School.  With special guest appearances by
Detective Knight of Metro Homicide and Natalie Lambert of the
coroners office. (Forever Knight) Hell, maybe I'll throw Lacroix
in there...heh

Disclaimers: VD belongs to L.J. Smith, Forever Knight belongs to
whoever owns it.

Note: words followed by numbers in brackets (e.g. (1) ) indicate
a footnote at the end of the text.

*****************************************************************

Elena sat in Ms. Flowers boarding house; Caroline's borrowed
dress and Damon's leather jacket the only clothing covering her. 
Things seemed to be returning to normal in her mind, because for
the first time in hours, Elena felt cheap by not wearing
underwear. Aunt Judith has raised her better than that.

At that thought, Elena smiled and couldn't stop. Things seemed to
be working themselves out; only the details of Elena telling her
aunt about the resurrection were still a mystery. Of course Aunt
Judith wouldn't believe at first, but, with a little help from
Stefan, everyone would see the light.

Stefan entered the room, and carefully closed the door behind
him. He sighed, still reveling in the fact that his light, his
Elena was back with him. Even in her bedraggled state, hair
tangled and skin flushed, his heart ached with longing for her.

Damon watched this pantomime, not listening to words, not caring
for words from his crow form in a tree outside the window of the
boarding house. Everyone seemed to get their happy ending; Stefan
got Elena, Bonnie got Matt and hell, even Meredith got Alaric.
Once again, Damon was left on his own. The situation was his own
fault, he supposed, after all, he was never one to open up to
people; they always seemed to let you down.

Spreading his wings, Damon let out a loud caw and took to the
sky; destined for wherever he stopped when he got tired of flying.



The day was blinding; no clouds making for extreme sun exposure.
This was the exact type of day that gave ditching school it's
charm. Delilah smiled and leaned back on the park bench, she could
still here Krys on the plastic slide and Trevin on the metal merry
go round. They were the only two Delilah could find to ditch with
her at the last moment before fourth period; she hated fourth
period.

Adjusting her sunglasses slightly, Delilah noticed something odd
in the sky.

"Guys," she said to Krys and Trevin, "look over there." Following
her finger, they noticed the dark foreboding cloud cover rolling
in.

"Now that is some f*cked up sh*t," Trevin said. He always did
have a limited vocabulary.

"Weird," Krys said, and went back to resting on the plastic
slide. Her knees were bent so the rubber soles of her white shoes
would keep her from falling into the pea gravel and getting yellow
stains on her white capri pants and red hoodie shirt. With ultra
short white blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes she was sportingly
cute, sickeningly cute, Delilah thought.

Now Trevin, Trevin had his own style; sort of eclectic mix of
gothic and regular guy attire. Black leather pants and a black t
shirt one day, a polo and jeans the next. Anyone else trying to
pull this off would have been called a poser or a wannabe, but
Trevin, with his bleach blonde spikes and handsome face was
accepted just about anywhere he went.

The stormy looking cloud cover was right above them now, and
Delilah had taken off her tortoise shell sunglasses for a better
look.

"Great," she said, "Just perfect. We take off of school and it
gets ready to storm." Originally, the idea had been to get away
from the strict policy's set in place by both the school and their
parents; today however, things just didn't seem to be working out.

Things weren't always this bad, Delilah thought, if only they had
found just a body or two, we might still have some freedom. After
the twelfth teenage body was reclaimed from the lake, however,
strict curfews and no off campus lunches were put into effect;
severely limiting any type of social life or fun. Delilah worried
about the killer from time to time, but, he only took the gorgeous
cheerleader type girls to mutilate; not an average soccer player
like Delilah. A couple of her cheerleader and drama friends had
gone missing and turned up; the cheer leading squad was on it's
last limbs. Somehow, little interpersonal jokes like that didn't
quite comfort her anymore. It was all too sick now.

"Krys," Delilah wondered out loud, "do you ever think they'll
find this guy?" She used to be worried about not being pretty
enough, now all Delilah worried about was what happened when he
ran out of the gorgeous girls.

"What makes you think it's a guy?" Krys answered. "Besides, he'll
slip up eventually. Hell, the police probably all ready have the
guy and this is just a copy cat."

"Oh thanks, that makes me feel oodles better. We're going to be
killed by a poser, not the original thing," Delilah chastised.

"Don't you guys worry," Trevin interjected, "there's plenty of
cheer losers left, besides, then comes the drill team."

Delilah soured, "Trevin, that's not funny, you were friends with
Lynn too. You didn't think she was a loser." Lynn had been one of
the first found; beautiful face slashed to ribbons; fit body
eviscerated.

Sighing, Delilah closed her eyes against the storm. Let it come,
she thought wearily.

The crow looked at them with beady round eyes. Would he fit in
here? Could he fit in here? Those weren't the important questions
now, the important question, was did he want to.....



The office had called her down at 11:36 on Wednesday during
second period. Trigonometry. It was now well passed 12:00 without
so much as a hint on when the principal was going to see her.
Apparently yesterdays fourth period absence hadn't avoided the
eagle eye of Delilah's English IV teacher. Great. Suspension at
the least. Life imprisonment from her parents at the most. If they
were home to hear about it. If they even cared.

Groaning; the heavily shellacked door to Principal Watkins office
opened, capturing Delilah's wandering mind. A boy- no make that
man stepped out into the dimly lit corridor leading to The Office.
He was severely handsome; carved alabaster face offset by hair so
black it shed rainbows under even this dim light. As he turned
towards her, Delilah could make out his solid black eyes.

How creepy, she thought and was no longer effected by his
smoothly muscled body wrapped up in a black sweater and form
fitting blue jeans.

A black Jansport bag was slung over one shoulder and he looked
her way as he said, "I suppose you're next," offering up a grim
good luck smile.

I bet he's full of himself, Delilah thought and strode into the
dim office; securing the door firmly shut behind her.

I bet she's full of herself, Damon thought as he passed the
attractive girl in the dimly lit hallway. Her silky, full brown
hair bounced slightly as she studied him and two golden highlights
fell into her murky blue eyes as she turned to go into the office.
Murky blue, he pondered, because of the dark blue Polo shirt
covering her smoothly muscled upper body. An athlete, perhaps?.

Shaking his head, Damon thought, rule number one Salvatore, don't
get involved with the locals. Trying to put the girl out of his
mind, he concentrated at the task at hand; finding his third
period class.

"Please sit down Miss Vahn," Mr. Watkins said, motioning at the
uncomfortable looking chair. "There's been another disappearance."




"What?!"  Delilah exclaimed, unsure she heard Principal Watkins
right.

Taking a few seconds to let it the disturbing information sink
in, confusion spread across her paling features. "Why are you
telling me this? Shouldn't you be talking to the police or
something?"

Principal Watkins looked grim as he folded his hands together on
top of a pile of papers on his mahogany desk. "This morning, the
police informed me of Arielle Vasquez's disappearance. Her
parent's called her in missing yesterday after they learned she
didn't go to fourth period and did not come home after school."

Delilah's jaw dropped, but the principal continued, "You, Krys
Alexander and Trevin Jones were also missing from fourth period
yesterday; I know Arielle was your friend Delilah, so if you know
what is going on please tell me." Principal Watkins wrinkled brown
eyes and sun spotted face pleaded grimly for whatever Delilah had
to say.

She wanted so much to be able to help the balding man with tufts
of white hair that seemed so concerned for his students; but
Delilah honestly didn't know anything that could be of use.
Shrugging and shaking her head helplessly, she tried to hold back
the tears.

"I wish I could tell you something Mr. Watkins, anything of use;
but the truth is, I asked Arielle if she wanted to ditch fourth
period and come to the park with Krys, Trevin and me, but she
didn't want to miss cheerleading practice," Delilah explained,
slowly, carefully.

The old man sighed and pulled his paisley blue tie down to half-
mast against his blue and white striped button front shirt. "I'm
very sorry too Delilah," Principal Watkins said tiredly. "I know
she was your friend," he stuck out his hand and she took it,
shaking firmly.

Sighing, Delilah slouched out of the uncomfortable chair and
headed for the door. The silver handle was very cool to the touch
and seemed more real now, just as the solid wood door seemed
heavier. Glancing back for a moment, Delilah saw the old man with
his head in his hands. Principal Watkins had been principal at
Silver Creek High School since the early eighties; and

before that he taught human biology in room 108. His students
were his children, and someone was murdering them.

Anger and frustration burned through Delilah's heart as she
gently shut the door. How dare someone, she thought, do such
horrible things to another human being. Leaning back against the
closed door, Delilah felt tears well up in her eyes, smearing the
smoky blue gray eyeliner there.

Tilting her head back slightly, she blinked away the tears and
clumsily wiped at the smeared liner with a shaking hand. I've got
to tell Krys, Delilah thought, and walked blindly off towards the
other girl's locker.




People knew. Delilah could tell. And she hated the comforting
pats on the back, the reassuring smiles. Everyone trying to make
her feel okay. But she wasn't okay. Thirteen murders weren't okay.

Arielle wasn't Delilah's closest friend; but she was Delilah's
oldest friend. Back in middle school, they had been on the same
cheerleading squad, in the same science class and giggled at the
same English teacher. Now, she would be weeping at Arielle's
funeral.

It just isn't fair, Delilah thought, life just isn't fair.
Arielle was going to be a college cheerleader and then a doctor.
She was entirely beautiful; inside and out. And now she was gone.
Someone had snuffed out her existence with no more remorse than
snuffing out a candle's flame, and the worst part was; the
perpetrator was going to get away with it.

Thirteen murders and the Silver Creek police didn't even have a
lead. The FBI had come and gone, unable to help. Leaving phone
numbers and offers of advanced equipment, but no leads. Not even a
f*cking piece of advice. Thank you and have a nice day.

Krys was leaning against her locker, talking to Trevin and Jason.
The matching light blue Abercrombie shirt and board shorts she
wore brought out the bright, sky blue in her eyes. Trevin was
gothic today; black leather pants and black shirt and Jason was
punk with electric blue hair falling into his cattish yellow eyes.

"Jesus Delilah," Krys began jokingly, "You look like sh*t." And
Delilah felt like shit.

"Krys…" Delilah began and trailed off. She licked her dry lips
and tried to start over as Krys' expression changed to one of
concern. "It's Arielle….She's gone missing." Delilah finally got
out. Shock widened Krys' already wide blue eyes.

"No," Krys said, horror stricken.

"Yes," Delilah replied.

Jason grabbed for Delilah, but she stepped out of reach. "I'm
okay for now Jason, but if I start crying, I don't think I'll
stop."

Nodding, he held onto her arms, right below the shoulder and
looked into her eyes. "You don't have to be the tough one all the
time," Jason said lightly. "I'm here if you need to talk."

Delilah nodded and let Jason walk her to class.



Third period was leaving a dry taste in Delilah's mouth.

Originally, Psychology class was focused on cute things like
analyzing dreams and performing trust tests. Now, Mr. Yoder was
delving into the killing mind, and it scared the hell out of her.

In Delilah's mind, there could not be a sane and logical
explanation for what was going on, for what this twisted semi
human was doing to her friends.  The only way another human being
could inflict such pain onto a person, a family and a community
was to be stark raving mad.

"The killing mind," Mr. Yoder began. "Manson, Ramerize, Dahmer,
and Jack the Ripper. Some of the most famous killing minds in
history." He looked grim, staring into every student's eyes in
turn. "Is the killing mind sane? Or is the killing mind so clever,
so cold, that it kills in such a horrible way as to be ruled
insane? Or are these people so alien and different to us, that we
cannot except their rationality, their way of thinking."

Damon found himself listening intently, as if the words were
meant for him and him alone. This teacher knew his stuff, about
the killing mind at any rate. Which made Damon wonder…

Delilah found herself shaking her head. Mr. Yoder, the psychology
teacher, the picture of perfect f*cking mental health turned out
to be a crazy. It made her wonder about his experience with the
killing mind…

"What do you think?" Mr. Yoder asked. "Come on, anyone, feel free
to respond."  Blake Boswell, a smart aleck gothic type who sat in
the back row raised his hand.

"Yes," Mr. Yoder called on him.

"Well," Blake began and Delilah clenched her fists, preparing to
hold back any anger for what this ignorant freshman might say. "I
think that the killing mind is genius. The killing mind outsmarts
the police and the community while murdering and torturing their
victims. A killing mind could be anyone, your neighbor, your
parent; your best friend or even your classmate. I mean, look at
John Wayne Gacy, he was a clown," Blake finished cryptically.

"A**hole," Delilah muttered and rested her head in her hands.

It was the brunette from the principal's hallway. Damon raised an
eyebrow and bit down on a smile; school was getting interesting
and it was only his first day here.

"What did you say?" Blake asked rudely, as if he would actually
do something about being insulted.

Delilah knew he had heard her, but she turned to face him anyway.
"I said," she began, "That you are one sick f*ck. You wouldn't
know the killing mind if you had one. It's pricks like you that
give freshmen a bad name, trying to be all cool and insinuate that
you're the killer. Please, Arielle would have served you up on a
silver platter."

Turning back in her chair, Delilah felt tears cloud her eyes.

People were sick. Blake could care less that Arielle was a friend
and daughter and a sister and a teammate, not just a victim. Too
bad the killer didn't go after little freshman Goth wannabes.

Damon watched the speech, and noticed something flare up around
the girl, almost aura-like. It was something like a white flame,
searing away at the injustice at the world. If she could harness
it, she would have one hell of a power, Damon thought.  Shrugging
it off he looked back at Mr. Yoder.

The entire class was speechless; Mr. Yoder was not; "Delilah,
please don't use that language in this classroom. It is an
institute for learning. Now, if you two are finished, I'd like to
talk about what goes into a killing mind…"




The day was almost over but Delilah could bear it no longer. It
was just two hours of English, Krys had whined at her. But two
hours with the English teacher from hell felt like an eternity. 
Delilah just needed to get away from school, to get away from
people, to get away from life. I suppose that's what's so good
about soccer practice, Delilah mused, you don't have to think, you
just do.

The hall was silent, closed doors facing her from all sides
muffling the classroom noises.  Great, Delilah thought, if a
teacher's coming, I could hear it and hide. Her locker was only a
few blocks down then she was home free.

She stopped before reaching the corner, footsteps sounded around
it, walking quickly off. Waiting until they echoed out of reach,
Delilah cautiously turned the corner; all clear.

Except behind her, fast authoritative footsteps, probably an
assistant principal, were coming up fast. Looking for a janitor's
closet, Delilah settled for fan room number four and yanked the
door open.

The scream left her mouth before her mind could make sense out of
the bloody hunk of meat before her. The long platinum blonde hair
identified the person as a girl, because the face could not. It
looked as if someone had taken Freddie Kruger claws and ripped her
apart..

Delilah, still screaming, backed up against the far wall, giving
her a better view of the strung up body's empty chest cavity. All
the internal organs were gone, like the other victims, and blood
dripped slowly down the length of the body into a bright crimson
pool. Bile rose to the back of Delilah's throat.

"What is going on here?"  A voice rang out. Mrs. Jones, the
junior's assistant principal, turned the corner and found Delilah
pressed against the wall, no longer screaming but staring at the
body in horror. She hadn't even heard Mrs. Jones' question.

"Sweet Jesus," Mrs. Jones said as she saw the body hanging in the
doorway of the fan room. "Somebody call an ambulance," she
screamed at the students and teachers as they started pouring out
from their classrooms.




"Are you sure that's all you remember?" Detective Knight asked
Delilah. She'd been over the story from front to back and every
which way in between. She couldn't remember anything else.

"I'm sure," she sighed tiredly and rested her head in her hands.
Delilah hadn't even known Jessica Smyth that well, but just
finding her body was putting a strain on Delilah's sanity. A
person can only take so much, she thought.

Soft arms wrapped around her; hugging; "Lilah, I'm so sorry… if
only I'd have gone with you..." Krys trailed off.

Delilah looked at Krys, "Then you'd have seen it too; it's okay,"
she sniffled.  A warm hand rested on her arm, looking up, Delilah
saw Trevin smiling at her.

"You're really brave Delilah, I would have fainted," Trevin said,
trying to cheer her up. Delilah laughed shakily, not even knowing
why she laughed.

"Miss Vahn," the detective said, "You are free to leave now, but,
we may have some more questions for you later."

Delilah nodded and let Trevin help her up.


Straight from the frying pan into the fire, Damon thought. He
somehow had wondered into yet another murder mystery. Only the
body count was higher in this one. And that girl, Delilah, seemed
to be at the center of it.

"Mister Salvatore," the detective said to him, "that's all we
need for now, you're free to leave."

"Thank you," Damon said, and turned toward the student parking
lot. Damon had been one of the last people out in the hallway, yet
he was the first to call the police. Humans, he thought, useless.

Night had fallen and only the stars lighted the way to the
parking lot. Most of the cars were still here, the police wanted
to question everybody; Damon was just lucky he got out when he
did, the fresh blood was making him hungry.

His predatory hearing picked up soft footsteps behind him,
turning, he saw Delilah walking alone.


She couldn't believe the police had kept her so late, it was
almost pitch black outside. Delilah didn't want to walk to her car
by herself, but her friends hadn't been released, so she called
her parents. They, of course, weren't home.  So she had no choice
but to wander through the full parking lot looking for her
electric yellow Exterra.

Movement ahead of her caught Delilah's eye; the guy from the
principal's office was walking to his car. Though out of no where,
he stopped and turned around to look at her. Well, the police must
have thought he was all right.

"Hey," Delilah called out and jogged up to him. "Mind if I walk
with you?" she asked.

Damon smiled one of his nice guy smiles, turning it on like a
light switch. "No problem."



"Thanks again for walking me to my car. This whole thing's just
got me really freaked out, I mean, they haven't even got a clue
yet," Delilah worried to Damon as she leaned against the driver's
side door of her electric yellow Exterra.

"It's my pleasure," Damon said and flashed her a healthy white
smile. "I enjoy being gallant."

Delilah raised her eyebrow, but let the comment slide; after all,
he wasn't being totally jerky.  "I just don't understand how
someone could have gotten into the school. All visitors have to
have a little identification card made in the office and wear it
on their shirt while they're here; someone should have recognized
a stranger." Delilah sighed, closing her eyes and leaned her head
back against her car.

Bloody meat images danced before her eyes, like a home movie. I
can't take this, she thought.

Damon leaned closer to Delilah, she looked pale. Faint.  He was
sorry that she was the one to find the body. He was sorry that
this entire situation was upsetting her so. And he was sorry that
he didn't know why.  "Are you okay to drive?" Damon asked quietly.

Delilah sighed again and opened her eyes. "Yeah," she said a
little uncertainly. She shook her head, as if affirming it to
herself. "Yeah, I'm okay to drive," Delilah said again, more
certain of herself this time.

"Good," Damon said. "Then I suppose I shall see you tomorrow." He
watched her get into the car, then turn and look at him.

"Tomorrow," with that she started the engine and pulled out of
the parking lot. Delilah waved as she drove off into the night.

Damon cocked his head as he watched Delilah's tail lights fade to
nothing on the darkness of a wooded road.   Finding the killer for
the sole purpose of turning him in didn't appeal much to Damon,
but finding the killer for the sole purpose of seeing Delilah
smile did.

What am I turning into, he thought, and took to the sky, making
sure Delilah got home safety.



As she pulled into the cull de sac, Delilah couldn't help but
notice that all the lights on her street were burned out. What the
hell, she thought as paranoia crept up her back and seeped into
her mind. She remembered a couple of summers ago when she used to
watch The Equalizer, and one day in the shower her house lights
went out and she thought it was a hired killer coming to get her.

Pulling into the dark driveway lined with trees, Delilah prayed
that her parents were home. No lights showed in the modern three-
story house, and her heart sank. Not tonight, she prayed silently.
And for the coup de Gras, the garage door didn't open when she
pushed the button.

"They locked the door!" Delilah screamed. Her hands were shaking
as she put on the parking and emergency break. Oh god, this is it;
someone's going to kill me. But if she was going down, she was
taking them with her. Delilah popped the glove box and took out a
long wicked looking silver knife.

"Grade A throwing baby," she muttered to herself.

Delilah fished her keys out of her backpack; it was too bulky to
run to the front door with. Keys in one hand and knife in the
other, Delilah opened the door and took a deep breath. Slamming
the door shut, she clicked the automatic lock button on her key
chain and started the mad dash for the front door.

Ducking between two trees lining the driveway, Delilah heard
something rustle in the neighbor's yard behind her. She froze for
the space of a breath and could feel the person, could feel the
warm body and the conscious from where she stood.

"Sh*t," she screamed and jumped over her mother's rose bushes. A
brush of something against leaves warned her of its new presence
in the tree behind her. Delilah looked up at the front door; it
was about fifty yards away. As she took her eyes off the ground,
the toe of her Doc Martens caught something, and Delilah felt her
balance swaying. Oh God no, she thought as the ground rushed up to
meet her.

Years of falling in soccer helped her recover as best she could,
the thing was above her, in the trees and she rolled to see it,
coming to rest on her back in the soft Bermuda grass.  The knife
was already positioned in her hand and as soon as she could focus
on the darker shape against the leafy shadows of the trees, she
threw it wildly at her target.

Breath caught in her throat as the tender soft sound of flesh
being pierced cried out against the silent night. A fat crow
plummeted out of the tree, landing behind the rosebushes.
Delilah's eyes widened in disbelief. Something was wrong, she
swore she felt another person there, it wasn't just her own
paranoia.

Before she could reason this out though, a soft moan caught her
attention. It was coming from behind the rosebushes where the crow
had landed, but this was a very human moan.

Delilah's brain wouldn't believe what her eyes were telling her.
A dark haired guy was lying where the crow had been. Hell, it
almost looked like Damon, with that black hair and black sweater.
Her eyes caught the pattern of the sweater and recognized it, even
in this dim light.  It- was Damon.

Quickly, she ran to him and rolled him over. Sure enough, the
silver throwing knife was sticking out of his chest. "Oh my God,"
Delilah said. I have to get him inside, we have to get inside, the
primal part of her brain was telling her.

The rustling from the neighbor's yard started again and Delilah
felt all sane thoughts exiting her mind.  Footsteps sounded on her
driveway, coming toward herself and Damon. There was no cover
anywhere and the knife was embedded deeply in Damon's chest.

A man shaped shadow was coming at her from the trees. Moonlight
glinted off of something metallic looking. Delilah's heart was
racing. Movement was coming from below where she knelt. Damon?

Damon sat up slightly, positioning himself in front of Delilah.
Her mind didn't even argue.  Fair is foul and foul is fair, she
thought wildly.

The man shadow walked between the trees, and stopped a few feet
from where Damon half sat and Delilah knelt. "Are you two okay?"
the shadow asked. Delilah's heart stopped. Her brain took a second
to register the voice as Jason's.

For a moment, all she could do was breath, Damon was still tensed
in front of her, ready for a fight, and the entire situation just
made her laugh.  Jason looked at her, startled.  "No, we're not
okay," Delilah said, only slightly sane. "Damon, this is Jason;
Jason, Damon," She motioned; though only Jason could see her.

"You see Jason, I threw a knife at the killer, only it turned out
to be a crow, only it turned out to be Damon. Then, we thought the
killer was you, my parents aren't home and I keep seeing the body
in the fan room,"

Delilah's voice degraded into choked sobs as full sanity and
realization of what just happened dawned on her.

"We better get inside," she sniffled and Jason helped her half
carry Damon into the house.




"Just take the knife out, I don't need an ambulance," Damon
argued. That girl was so infuriating, he thought.

"Damon," Delilah said, trying to keep calm and not strangle him,
"You have a sharp pointy knife sticking out of your chest. You
need professional help."

Damon raised his eyebrow but held back the sarcastic comment.
"Think about it. I haven't bled to death. I'm getting stronger,
not weaker. Take the knife out," he demanded.

"He has a point," Jason said over his mug of herbal tea. Delilah
shot him a look. Jason went back to drinking his tea.

"Yes he has a point," Delilah said exasperated, "And it's
embedded in his chest, now call an ambulance Jason."

Damon groaned, "I didn't see that one coming."

Jason put down his mug of tea and got up; sick of hearing them
fight and brushed aside Delilah.

"I'm glad you're seeing it my way Jason, I mean, I'm the one that
stabbed him and- Jason DON'T!" Delilah screeched as Jason grasped
the knife and yanked it out of Damon's chest.

Damon winced in pain and surprise, then smiled. "Much better,
thank you Jason." Jason nodded in acknowledgment, still holding
the knife.

Delilah stared, "What's going on?" She looked from Jason to
Damon, they knew something. She hated it when people knew
something she didn't.

"Well," Jason began "A hint was the lapis ring," he gestured at
Damon's ring with the bloody throwing knife.  "The proof was when
you said you stabbed a crow, and the assurance is the fact that
he's healed now." Jason smiled. "He's a vampire Delilah."

Damon nodded in agreement. "Good observations," he said to Jason.
This boy would be pretty bright if he was just a human. However,
Damon thought, I don't think he is just a human.  "But how did you
know about lapis rings?" Damon queried.

"Connaissane(1)," Jason said, and smiled wisely.

"M'respete hunga mwe(2)," Damon murmured and returned Jason's
smile.

"Okay, what exactly is going on here?" Delilah asked, frustrated.

"And I thought we had just figured all of this out," Damon said,
amused. "I am a vampire and he is a hungan." Damon smiled again,
as if all of this should have made perfect sense to Delilah. She
was seriously debating whether to stab him again.

"Okay, I'll bite, what's a hungan?" Delilah asked.

Jason answered this time, "A voodoo practitioner."



Delilah's expression hardened. "So," she began, blue eyes
flaring. "You're telling me that there are murders going on and
I'm sitting in MY kitchen with the two most prominent candidates
for whodunnit?"

Damon gave Jason a withering glance, Jason pursed his lips on a
grin.

"Yeah, okay, laugh. But who else would be better suited to go
around ripping into people than a voodoo person?" Heat rose to
Delilah's cheeks as her fury grew. "Maybe you're even a better
choice than a vampire, after all vampires drink the blood. If they
even exist." Delilah shot Damon a withering glance that put his to
shame.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Please," he began. "I don't have to prove
to you that I'm a vampire. The fact that the knife wound YOU made
has healed is proof enough." Damon reached out, and before Delilah
could react, he grabbed her hand and pressed it against the newly
formed flesh, where the wound should have been.

"Oh SICK!" Delilah screamed and jerked back, wrenching her hand
from Damon's grasp. It took her a moment of whining to realize her
hand was clean; no blood. Damon's wound was gone, only new flesh
and ragged black sweater showed.

Chuckling to himself, Damon asked, "Where did you learn to throw
like that? Excellent aim, you managed to kill my favorite sweater."

"Oh I have a few questions of my own, starting with; why in the
HELL were you following me? You almost gave me a heart attack,
even though about now I might appreciate it. ." Delilah trailed
off.

Damon's face went blank, no emotion and totally unreadable, "I
wanted to make sure you got home all right. This killer seems to
be connected to you somehow."

Jason looked up from his mug, peaceful expression disturbed, "How
could the killer be connected to her? You're not insinuating that
she knows who the killer is?"

Damon glanced at him, "No. I'm not. I think the killer is trying
to get her attention, or kill for her. All of the kills are either
people she knows, or recently, in a place where she'll find them."

Delilah nodded, "Makes sense, but, why me?"

Rolling his eyes, Damon replied, "Perhaps a lover scorned, or a
lover unnoticed or a sicko who wants to be your friend."

Sighing Delilah hung her head, "Look I don't know. . .anyway,
thanks for looking out for me Damon. But I was so sure there was
someone else there. . ." She trailed off.

"There was," Jason said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," Delilah forced a smile.

"No, actually there was, your screaming's what brought me out
here," Jason informed her gravely.

"Oh f*cking perfect," Delilah snorted.

"Which is why I'll wait with you until your parents get home. I'm
powerful, whatever it is, I can protect you," Damon said,
nonchalantly.

Jason stared at him, not hostile, but not trusting either. "You
may be powerful, but your ti bon ange(3) is surrounded by
darkness. The power was bought with blood, how can I trust that
you will take care of her?"

Tension grew thick as Damon replied, never looking at Jason,
never taking his eyes from Delilah, "Because if I wanted her, I
could have taken her in the parking lot."

Oh hell no, he is not threatening me, Delilah thought. "Look,
before you two start whipping them out and measuring, why don't
you ask me what I think?" Delilah retorted.

Damon shrugged, "And?"

"And," Delilah started icily, "Personally, I think you two
goofballs would just get in each other's way, besides, I can
handle myself. I would have killed you if you'd been human- Damey."

"A pet name already? But we barely know each other," Damon quipped.

"Okay, now before YOU TWO start 'whipping it out' and measuring,
I definitely agree with Damon. You need some protection; at least
until your parents get back. We don't know if the thing murdering
the girls is human or not. I vote not, and to be on the safe side.
. ." Jason hesitated.

"Both of us should stay with you," Damon offered. "After all,
anyone who's patron Loa(4) is Baron Samedi(5) can't be all good."
Smiling, Damon peeled off his shirt.

Jason glared, but Delilah's jaw dropped. She hadn't known an
actual person could have so many well defined muscles. Jason
noticed Delilah's reaction and glared even harder.

"I know this is going to sound REALLY cheesy, but, how often do
you work out Damon?" Delilah queried.

Damon smiled to himself, he knew he could have that effect on
women, "Actually I don't. All vampires have this type of muscle.
Care to touch?"

Deciding to keep her hands to herself, Delilah changed to
subject, "So why our school? Why this town?"

Shrugging, Damon looked past her and Jason, trying not to think
about Fell's Church.

"Touchy subject matter eh," Delilah commented, "I understand."
Then turning to Jason, demanded, "And WHY was I never informed on
you practicing voodoo?"

It was Jason's turn to shrug; "I didn't think you'd understand."

"Look, whatever, go stay, I don't care anymore. I'm tired,"
Delilah said, slumping her shoulders in defeat. "I'm going to
bed." With that, she left the kitchen and headed toward the stairs.

"That went well," Jason said sarcastically, cocking his eyebrow.


"At least we'll be here for her," Damon said quietly.

"What's you're story anyway," Jason asked, curiosity peaked. "I
mean, why would some high brow vampire power-player like yourself
want to help out some random town that you have no affiliation to."

Leaning forward in his chair, Jason studied the vampire's face,
and his aura.  Though he could guess parts of it, and the
connaissance whispered Damon's secrets along his spine, Jason
wanted to hear it from the actual source.

Damon put on a charming smile, about to blanche the question off
and stopped. He needed to talk to someone. After all those years
of being alone, of convincing himself that no one else mattered or
they were out to get him, Damon decided to do something novel;
give straight answers.

"Lately I think it's been my calling to answer distress calls
from  random towns," Pausing, Damon allowed himself a small smile
before continuing. "I left my brother and others in a town long
past. They were happy, and I couldn't open myself to them. I
didn't think I was capable; so I took off and flew until I got a
feeling about this place and stopped," Damon ended his
introspection, then took his turn in studying the young man before
him.

"A feeling. . .perhaps this town's negative energy called to you
for help," Jason's eyes went distant for a moment, then cleared
and met Damon's again. "You can feel her, can't you? When she's
upset." Jason didn't even need to explain, the scary thing was, he
knew Damon would understand.

"Yes," Damon nodded, understanding completely. "She has a power
inside her, something tangible. I have seen something similar to
this, a very strong mind, but without the presence of aura. Can
she use it?"

"I don't think so," Jason said slowly. "If she had, Delilah might
have known what I was a long time ago." He thought for a moment.
"No, she doesn't know, and I don't know how to help her."

"If she were a vampire, perhaps I could, but. . ." Damon trailed
off. "Okay, you got a question, my turn; what is a voodoo sect
doing in a town like this?"

"Simple," Jason said smiling. "We wanted to get away from New
Orleans. This is a religion and our heritage is of REAL
practitioners; not the showboater tourist attractions in the
Quarter."

"Why didn't you tell Delilah, am I wrong to assume that you two
are close?" Damon asked.

"I didn't think she'd understand; I was wrong," Jason replied
simply. Damon nodded, not saying a word.

"Damon," Jason paused, looking into his tea mug. "Why are you
doing this?"

For once, Damon found himself without a clever phrase, or witty
quip, "For some reason, she means a lot to me."

"Good," Jason stated firmly. "I can read you better than you can
read me, I appreciate honesty."

"I hope the killer does too," Damon mused, smiling malignantly.





"Yoder. He's on top of the list," Damon said, eyes closed, face
lifted toward the ceiling. Opening his left eye a crack, Damon saw
the sarcastic glance Jason was giving him. And to tell the truth,
his cattish yellow eyes were unnerving. For once, Damon felt the
same way people normally felt at HIS  glance.

"What?" Damon asked, disgusted. "He gave a talk on the killing
mind for God's sake. He knows more than a high school teacher
would."

"Fine," Jason sighed, exasperated. "Yoder's on the list. Any more
obvious/ly human suspects?"

"I don't know," Damon said thoughtfully. "I think we're looking
at this from the wrong angle. We're looking at people who are
obvious suspects, but with no motive and no obvious attachment to
Delilah."

"Well, Yoder's her teacher, and Mel's the girl who didn't make
cheerleading OR drama. . .but you're right no connection." Jason
sighed. "What have the police got?"

"A whole lot of nothing. Detective Knight was just assigned from
a special task force to help out on the case, and they combed over
all the old scenes, photo's and evidence. Nothing. Well, he did
think I had something to do with it at first. . .Imagine, a
vampire homicide cop," Damon mused.

"Det. Knight's a vampire too?" Jason asked, credulous.

"Yes, but he's old and powerful; hides the details well," Damon
said. Jason's eyes widened a bit, but he said nothing.

"So that puts us right back at square one, this is progressing
ever-so-well," Damon  mused sarcastically.

Reclining back in his chair, Damon tilted his head back and
looked at the ceiling again. Maybe it was just him, maybe he was
cursed to wander around and solve other people's mysteries. And I
thought being a vampire would do wonders for my social life, he
thought.

"She doesn't know when they'll be back, you know. They do this a
lot," Jason said, almost to himself.

"Who?" Damon asked sharply.

"Del's parents. If they don't have time to write a note, they ask
the maid to tell her when they'll be back; it's always been like
this. Then they throw money at her to make it all right. I'll bet
they don't even know about the murders," Jason explained lightly.
He hated her mother and father for leaving her like this.

Jason knew she was scared out of her mind when she was alone,
this was a giant house and Delilah had a very active imagination.
She also hated being alone.

"I need to do a ritual to ask Papa Legba, the guardian of the
dead, to let me speak to the girls who've been killed," Jason
hesitated. "I trust you with her; I trust you."



The door was open. She had to let the door stay open. Jason and
Damon were right down the hall in the living room, and the door
was staying open.

Delilah had chosen to sleep in one of the many guest bedroom
downstairs, to stay close to the guys, and because the only way
into this room was through the door leading to the hall. No
windows, no adjoining bathroom. Which was a blessing and a curse
all on its own. If someone were coming after her, she wouldn't be
surprised; she'd know they were coming through the door. Of course
she'd be trapped, but hey, at least she wouldn't get killed by
someone sneaking in through the window, or the bathroom.

Just now though, paranoia was getting the better of her. If the
door remained open,  then Jason and Damon could get to her if
something happened, or she wouldn't have to fumble with a lock.
But, if the door was locked, nothing was getting in without
breaking the door down.

Damn, this sucked. The other girls hadn't been killed at home,
why was she so scared? Because it felt like this was her last
night on earth. Because she was so sure she was going to die, she
could almost reach out and touch death's cape. All right, Delilah
thought, now that I'm scared sh*tless, there is no way I am ever
going to  get to sleep tonight.

Sighing, she snuggled the silky, peach Ralph Lauren comforter
around her chin. This was going to be a looong night.



"This can't be right," Jason muttered to himself, biting his lip.
The quartered chicken, an offering to Papa Legba was starting to
reek, the candles were burned about halfway down, and Legba had
come and gone.

Just minutes ago, Janie, Jason's mother and Mambo of the humfo
had removed the last of Legba's sign, traced in flour, from the
ground. One of the younger girls, a hunsi, had been possessed by
Legba and allowed Jason to speak to the girls.

The wails and moans of the girls could only be interpreted by the
Mambo, and what they said made absolutely no sense. Blue death,
Ezili-coeur-noir, the ring, jealousy, hand-picked, love. .
.endless nonsense, which had to be interpreted, but no names. It
was as though they didn't know the killer, or couldn't speak their
name. As if a loa were protecting them. . .



She was asleep, finally. Damon could tell by her regular, relaxed
breathing. He was afraid he was going to have to use his powers to
make her get some rest. But he wouldn't be able to help with the
nightmares, and yes, there would be nightmares.

The room was dark and quiet, bathed in shadows. Delilah sighed in
her sleep as Damon approached and sat down in the over-stuffed
chair next to the bed. If she were to wake up, he would be here,
for comfort, for support, for protection.



"Are you sure?" Damon asked again. Delilah rolled her eyes at
Jason, this was the sixth time Damon had asked her today.

"No, I'm afraid I'm going to faint at the sight of a nice cleaned
up body after not  fainting at the torn up, mutilated, dissected
one I saw hanging in the fan room. Yes Damon, I'm sure," Delilah
retorted, exasperated.

"Just so I know," Damon smiled and it was happy, even here in the
Silver Creek morgue at three in the morning.

"Tell me again how you arranged for us to "view" the bodies?"
Jason asked, smirking at Damon. This was just the opportunity they
had needed, Jason had to make sure the person was acting out for
Ezili-coeur-noir, that way, he would know how to stop them.

"Well, Det. Knight was ever so glad we had some information and
decided we should share and share alike. I let him think it was
his idea," Damon mocked.

"Peachy," Delilah started, "That's all we need, another smart-a**
vampire on the case. We may not find the murderer but hey, the
laughs'll be non-stop."

Stepping through the swinging doors, Delilah's nose crinkled
automatically. Femaldahyde. The room smelled like the science lab
after dissecting cat fetus'. Yummy.

A short woman with unruly, curled auburn hair stood beside a
gurney. Resting on the gurney was an older looking man, about late
thirties early fourties, blonde hair, cropped close to his head,
fairly good looking. Damn, thought Delilah, they're either gay or
dead.

"Mrs. Lambert?" Delilah asked hesitantly. It's not that she hated
talking to new people, it's just. . .she hated talking to people
who found their life's work in dissecting dead people. But hey,
everyone has at least one annoying quirk, unless you were Damon,
who's full of them, Delilah thought.

The woman turned and smiled, she was beautiful, sparse makeup,
sweet face, but she spoke with a no nonsense voice that didn't
seem to fit her petite frame, "Just Ms, but you can call me
Natalie."

"I'm Delilah," She said, then pointed out the boys, "This is
Jason and that's Damon."

"It's a pleasure," Natalie said, "Just let me finish up here and
we'll be right with you." Natalie turned back to the body and the
others hedged closer.

Delilah moved across the gurney from Natalie and peered at the
dead guy's face. "So what'd he die of?" She asked. There wasn't a
visible mark or bloodstain on the body.

Natalie bit down on a smile and said, "Blood  loss."

"Blood loss?" Delilah asked, and leaned in closer to the face.
His pale features did look a bit bloodless, but there was a faint
pink tinge around the cheekbones that meant living.

Moving in for a closer look, Delilah was mere inches away from
the guy's face when his icy eyes opened.

Her heart failed. Her breathing stopped. "Oh sh*t," She
whispered, eyes going wide and round. Backing away, she rested a
hand on the sink area behind her.

"I don't think we have to wait for the killer to get me, cus YOU
PEOPLE ARE GOING TO END UP DOING ME IN," Delilah screamed and put
her hand over her heart.

The man looked amused and arched his aristocratic eyebrow at the
hysterical girl. "Dr. Lambert," he said, his voice was soft, but
full of power and authority. "If we are finished?"

The doctor nodded and he stood from the table in one elegant
motion. Damon froze beside Jason. He could be Klaus' twin, Damon
thought wildly. The two vampires locked eyes, in an instant, Damon
knew the blonde vampire was very old, but of a weaker race, one
that could not use the Lapis talisman to step out into the sun.
One that could not change shape, and one that cowered before holy
objects.

Raising his eyebrow ironically at the blonde vampire, Damon gave
him a condescending smirk as he shifted his ring hand to his face,
showing off for the elder vampire. The elder vampire simply
brushed past the dark haired upstart and turned slightly, speaking
in a chilling voice, "But will it save your friend?" Smiling, the
blonde vampire turned and left passing Det. Knight, who was just
entering the room.

"What was that all about?" Natalie wondered at Damon. Nick (Det.
Knight) had told her about the Italian vampire, his suspicions and
his clearance of them. But Lacroix, the most powerful vampire in
the Toronto community had treated Damon like an equal, even though
Nick said Damon was only five hundred to Lacroix's two thousand.

"Search me. . ." Damon said with mock innocence. Delilah glared
at all of them, even Jason.

"I would really appreciate it," She started sarcastically. "If
you people would tell me who the living impaired are before I have
another heart attack from seeing a dead guy wake up on a gurney."

Natalie looked at her sympathetically, "I'm sorry, I should have
warned you. He was only here to let me run some tests. . ."
Natalie trailed off.

This peaked Damon's curiosity, "So the rumors of the plague were
true?"

Det. Knight was the one who replied, "Yes, but, that's for
another time, we should be getting down to business, if you and
your friends are up to it?" Delilah immediately remembered why she
liked him. The boyish grin put you at ease.

"I don't know exactly what I'm looking for Det. Knight, I just
hope we're not wasting you're time," Jason said.

Det. Knight just sighed, "Call me Nick, and no, you're not
wasting my time. We don't have a single lead as of yet. But you
said you might have some information?"

"Yes. I'm a voodoo practitioner, and I called on Papa Legba, loa
of the dead and guardian of the portal to the realm of the dead,
and he allowed me to speak with the girls. They were long on
cryptic stuff, and short on things like names, dates and social
security numbers," Jason smiled wearily. "I was hoping some of the
things they said might make sense if I looked at the bodies."

"What exactly did they say?" Nick demanded. He needed a lead, any
lead, and he knew this killer had to be associated with something
non human. The murders were just too complicated.

"Things that wouldn't make sense on their own, but clues to the
bigger picture. Blue death, maybe blue eyes or wearing something
blue. It wouldn't make sense on it's own, but one said, Ezili-
coeur-noir, Ezilia the black heart. Ezili is a goddess, mistress
to Damballah, head of the gods and a major slut. She's jealous of
all other girls, she sees them as rivals, one of her symbol's is a
blue dress," Jason stated.

"So someone's killing in honor of Ezili the black heart?" Delilah
asked, confused.

"That's what I think, because another girl said jealousy and
another hand-picked, as if Ezilia-coeur-noir was jealous of
certain girls and only wanted them eliminated. The only clue that
doesn't fit, is the ring. One of the girls was stuck on the ring.
She came back again and again, and mentioned it more than once, as
if it were of some great significance," Jason's voice was distant
then, trying to put the last pieces of the puzzle together.

"And that, ladies and gents scraps our original theory," Damon
said, smiling. "Now we're dealing with supernatural forces."

"Aren't we always," Natalie muttered, then turned to remove one
of the bodies from the freezer.

Damon turned to Delilah, but she cut him off, "If you ask again,
I'm going to kill you." She hissed. Nick looked amused.

"All right, this is Arielle Vasquez," Natalie said grimly,
wheeling out a large metal gurney. A white sheet had been
strategically placed over Arielle's torso and face. "I'm sorry,
there was too little to salvage," Natalie stated when she saw
Delilah eyeing the sheet.

"Peachy," Delilah sighed.

"Okay," Jason nodded and started looking down the length of
Arielle's right arm, holding it delicately.

"Where do we start?" Asked Damon. He was used to death, hell he
lived with death for almost five centuries. He could deal with
this.

"The other arm," Jason replied distractedly. He was looking very
carefully at every inch of skin on the right forearm, attentive to
everything not wanting to overlook anything.

"What are we looking for?" Natalie asked tiredly. She'd been over
every inch of this body and found nothing. What could a couple of
teenagers do?

"We'll know when we find it," Jason replied, smiling.

"Something like this?" Delilah asked, holding up the left hand.

"What did you find?" Nick asked.

"Look," Delilah said, holding the arm over the sheet for everyone
to see. "The skin's paler in a little band right here. Like she
was wearing a ring," Delilah looked purposefully at Jason. Bingo.

"Her class ring. . ." Jason trailed off. And if her's was gone. .
. "Check the other bodies. Maybe this person's taking a little
trophy. If the other rings are missing, then we'll know whoever
killed her has them."



It was very late, or very early depending on how you looked at
it, when they returned to Delilah's house. Two hours before
school. Barely enough time to get ready. Damon had thought the
school would be closed for at least a day, but apparently,
everything was cleaned up and an announcement was running on the
Silver Creek News Channel that it was best if everything returned
to normal.

As reasonable and rational as Jason's theory sounded, Damon still
wasn't quite convinced. The killings were too centered around
Delilah. People she knew, even briefly. Silver Creek High was
quite large, making it impossible for everyone to know everyone,
but everyone killed was associated with Delilah.

Maybe the killer just reminded one of the dead girls of Ezili, in
mannerisms or character or something. . .



"Geeze, you guys look like death warmed over twice," Blake said
as Damon and Delilah took their seats in Mr. Yoder's psychology
class.

"Shut up, Blake," Delilah condescended. She was so sick of that
little pest. He'd be up there near number one on the suspects list
if he weren't too incompetent to plan a daily hygiene schedule,
let alone fourteen murders.

Damon ignored the little boy. He was exhausted for the first time
in a long time. Maybe it was going a couple of days without sleep.
Or maybe the murders were finally bothering his conscience. Sure
he'd killed more people than this, much more, but they died in
pleasure, not in pain. And he didn't torture them.

"Good morning class," Mr. Yoder greeted them jubilantly. "Today
we're going to discuss Sociopaths. Has anyone ever seen the movie
Wallstreet?"

Mr. Yoder's voice was suddenly very loud and very clear, ringing
in Delilah's ears. She could feel her head nodding backwards, then
jerking back up. She was going to fall asleep. Great. Oh well, she
could fail one psych test. It wouldn't kill her, besides, what
would it matter if they were all dead in a week. . .



"Miss Vahn, if you'd care to stay after class," Mr. Yoder
scolded. Great, the one time I slack off and fall asleep in class
after having to come to school after seeing a bloody hunk of meat,
and I'm going to get detention.

"Delilah?" Damon asked. Standing, Delilah nodded at him. He could
go. Mr. Yoder wasn't going to kill her here in the classroom. If
it was him.

"I'm very concerned about you Miss Vahn. You've seen the most
gruesome thing you probably ever will in a place that's supposed
to be a sanctuary from violence," Mr. Yoder said serious.

Sanctuary from violence? Puh-leese, apparently he hadn't been
walking the halls during the last sixteen fights this week.

"Now," Mr. Yoder continued, putting his hand into his left pants
pocket, digging around for something. "I have the name of an
excellent psychiatrist. She's someone you can talk to about what's
been going on. She specializes in trauma incidents. . ." He
trailed off, still digging.


Great, just great, now everyone thinks I'm a basket case, Delilah
thought, mentally rolling her eyes.

"Here we go," Mr. Yoder said, fishing out a wad of bent up cards
from his pocket. Sheesh, does he get paid to advertise for her?

Something shiny and silver fell from the wad as he began to sort
through it. The thing glittered and rolled, stopping at Delilah's
feet.

Delilah bent, picking it up politely. A large green peridot jewel
was set into it. A class ring. Something twisted in Delilah's
stomach. Like Bluebeard's wife, she had to look, but greatly
feared the consequences.

Carved delicately into the back of it, in rolling script was a
name: Arielle Vasquez. "Oh my God," Delilah muttered and backed
away from Mr. Yoder.

He looked startled for a moment, then realization dawned on his
face. "No Delilah, it's not what you think," he took a step toward
her. She backed away slowly, toward the door. He started walking
toward her, "Let me explain."

"Oh my God," was all she could say. Delilah turned and sprinted
for the door, fumbled with the knob for a moment then spilled into
the hallway.

Falling to her knees, she kept muttering, "Oh my God, oh dear
God." Damon put hands on her shoulders, kneeling before her. She
couldn't hear what he was saying. Clutching the ring in her fist,
she tried to give it to him, but her fingers wouldn't open.

Gently, he pried each one away, then looked momentarily at the
ring. Hugging her tightly, he yelled at the crowd gathering around
them, "Someone call the police, someone call Det. Knight."



"So did they find the rest of the rings at his house?" Krys asked
with unbridled curiosity. They were sitting on the Battanburg lace
comforter of Krys' huge double bed, in a room so pristinely white
and silver that you couldn't move without fear of smudging
something.

"They didn't find anything. He kept saying that Arielle asked him
to hold the ring during one of  the psych games and he forgot to
give it back to her, then. . .well," Delilah trailed off.

"He didn't do it-" Krys began, then was interrupted by the shrill
ringing of her princess style phone. "Hello?.....No they
aren't....Can I take a message?" She motioned for Delilah to grab
her a pen and pad of paper. There wasn't one on her night stand,
she motioned Delilah to open the drawer.

A little white pad of paper and a little silver pen sat inside
right next to a silver velvet pouch. Delilah tossed Krys the pen
and paper and picked up the pouch. It was a bit heavy, and jingled.

Krys was mmhmming and scribbling away, so Delilah dumped the
contents onto the bed and almost fainted. Rings. Big, small,
thick, slender, jewels of all colors; but all class rings. Krys'
voice cut through her stupor, "I'm sorry, I have to go."

The phone clicked down and Delilah looked up at Krys, surprise,
shock, and hurt all playing across her face. Krys looked near to
tears. "You don't like it?" She asked, little girl like. Krys' sky
blue eyes were watering quickly. Blue death, Delilah thought.

"You killed them." Delilah more stated than asked.

"I did it for you Lilah. You were so jealous of them, because
they were so beautiful and perfect. I just wanted to make you
happy; you're my best friend, and I love you," Krys looked very
small and young with no makeup and a little pink sundress on. How
could she? Delilah though, she weighs as much as fluff, she's not
very strong.

"What," Delilah asked, confused.

"You would say things, like, 'white isn't Arielle's best color',
or 'if Candy bleaches her hair one more time it's going to fall
out,' and I knew you hated them. I made a list, of all the girls
you were jealous of and picked them when they were alone, then
WHAM they never knew what hit them. I cut them all up when they
were dead, so everyone would think a psycho did it. And I kept
their rings as proof for you. You can have them," Krys added
eagerly.

The room was suddenly very small and the air was thick, hard for
Delilah to breathe, "I can't believe this," she whispered.

Krys continued as if Delilah had never spoken, "I wasn't going to
frame anyone, I didn't even know that Mr. Yoder had Arielle's
ring. But now that I think about it, you're list of people to kill
was rather long and nine's a good number. I'm sorry I have to
stop. It may not count as much, but, you're perfect to me. . ."
Krys complimented her, but Delilah was way too gone.

"God Krys, I don't know what to say," Delilah whispered. Krys
smiled, seeing this as praise.

Krys sighed contentedly, "I'm surprised you're taking this so
well, I mean I thought you'd yell or something, because I didn't
finish."

"I'm sorry, uhm, I have to go, I'm late for an appointment,"
Delilah stuttered. She had to get out of there. Sanity was slowly
slipping away and by all means, Delilah had to get out of there.

"Wait," Krys said, startled as Delilah started to slide off the
bed. "You can't go. Not after all I did for you."

"I have to, if I don't go people would ask question and you might
get in trouble, we wouldn't want that," Delilah explained hastily.
If she really wanted to, she could take the smaller girl, but
Delilah just wanted out of there.

"God you're so ungrateful," Krys started. "I killed people for
you and you don't seem to appreciate it." She was getting up off
the bed now. Delilah wanted to run toward the door. Krys seemed to
be unarmed, and Delilah was sure she could make it, but. . .

"Don't touch me," Delilah said scathingly. "Just don't."

"You think I would hurt you?" Krys asked, face twitching with
emotion. "I wouldn't hurt you Lilah."

Oh f*ck, she's going all sweet and innocent, she's going to kill
me, Delilah's mind screamed.

"You have to turn yourself in Krys. What you did was wrong; I
never wanted you to kill anyone. Sure I was jealous at times, but
I didn't want you to kill for me," Delilah rationed.

"Is that what you really want Lilah, for me to turn myself in?"
Krys asked. At that moment, Delilah felt like Krys really would do
it. Turn herself in.

"Yeah, it is," Delilah said quietly.

Without another word, Krys picked up the phone and called the
police. "Hello this is the Silver Creek Sadist, and I need you to
come pick me up. I'm at 239 Arbor Ridge. All the evidence is in a
silver pouch in my room. Thank you," Krys stated cheerily, as if
she were accepting a dinner invitation, not a date with the
electric chair.

"That was good, that was good Krys," Delilah's voice cracked.

"Will you wait with me, until they come?" Krys asked, almost
blindingly cheerful.

"Sure," Delilah answered as Krys sat back down on the bed.

The door burst open, and Damon and Jason toppled to the floor on
top of each other. "It's okay Delilah, we're here," Jason said,
muffled, underneath Damon.

Jumping to his feet, Damon pulled Jason up with him and rushed to
Delilah's side. "We found the list in her locker; it was titled
"People to kill for Delilah." Jason announced. Damon nodded in
agreement.

Delilah gave them a withering glance, "Okay Nancy Drew, too bad I
knew that an hour ago and called the police. That should be them,"
Delilah added as she heard the siren's coming up the block. Thank
God it's over, Delilah thought.




"Thanks for your help, an innocent man would have been convicted
and a killer out on the streets," Detective Knight said as Krys
was escorted into the police car.

Twilight had set in and everyone was starting to leave the crime
scene. "Any time Det. Knight," Delilah said grimly. Shaking her
hand, the Det. nodded thanks to her again and turned to leave.

"Well you were right Damon, just don't let it go to your head,"
Jason teased.

"I still don't understand, though," Trevin stated, the siren's
had lured him out of his house next door and to the crime scene.
"You said the person was worshiping Ezili with the kills, not
Delilah."

"Well," Jason began, "She was worshipping Ezili with the kills.
Only, Delilah was representing Ezili, what with the jealousy and
all."

"At any rate," Det. Knight said, before getting into his blue
Caddy. "She confessed to nine murders, and nine rings were found
in that bag. Looks like that wraps everything up."

"Yeah, maybe now life can get back to normal," Delilah said,
rolling her eyes at Damon.

"What? My life's been normal for five centuries," Damon said,
flashing everyone a blinding white smile.

"It was a joke, one of my best friends is a living impaired
(gotta be PC) bloodsucker, and my other best friend sacrifices
chickens in his basement. I don't think life is ever getting back
to normal," Delilah half-joked.

Well, Damon thought, I've owned the world for a long time, and
found the world is not enough, sometimes, you just need a friend.

Standing in the abandoned moonlight, Damon, Delilah, Jason and
Trevor laughed, and started walking off, arm in arm when while
cheesy music played in the background and the camera panned back.

Delilah stopped suddenly.

"Hey guys," She said. "Det. Knight said Krys confessed to nine
murders and had nine rings. There were fourteen murders, what
about the other five?"

Everyone stopped, and a collective groan escaped their lips and
Damon muttered, "Oh sh*t, here we go again."


Standing atop the roof, Lucien Lacroix peered down on the
troubled foursome. Those five girls were quite delicious, and a
good start for avenging his great great great whatever grandfather
Klaus. Now, onto Fells Church, he thought. *Cheesy eighties music
plays in the background*


The End.
And the rest, is a sequel. . .*manicial laughter* Or not, 'cus
I'm lazy.


FOOTNOTES:
(1) Connaissane = A voodoo priest  
(2) M'respete hunga mwe = I respect my hungan
(3) ti bon ange = Big Good Angel- half of your soul
(4) Loa = Voodoo Gods
(5) Samedi = A voodoo god, one of the Guedo, spirits of the dead

(c) Puck <lsmith5@flash.net>