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Then again, Meredith was a hunter by nature. Her parents had cut off contact with others of their kind when they stopped hunting themselves. Of course Meredith would be excited to finally meet more hunters.
"Are you sure it was Solomon?" Elena asked. "You said he wasn't flashy like the other Old Ones, that he hardly left a trace. This was flashy, and took a lot of Power. And the blood . . . " Her voice trailed off unhappily, and she twisted the edge of her shirt between her fingers.
The young brown-haired hunter named Trinity knelt down next to Elena. "I'm so sorry about your pet," she said sympathetically, laying her hand on Elena's arm and stilling her anxious movement. Trinity's eyes were warm with sympathy. Elena smiled weakly at her.
"It's definitely Solomon," Jack said. "You're right; he doesn't usually show off like this. As long as I've been tracking him, he's managed to be practically invisible. "
"He doesn't even leave bodies behind," Darlene added. "People just disappear into thin air if he wants them to. He doesn't typically leave any evidence at all. "
"So he wanted you to know he was here," Jack said. "He's sending you a clear message. He wants you to know he's after you. "
"I have tracking Powers," Elena said. "Usually. But I haven't been able to find him. "
"I wish Bonnie were here," Zander said. "Maybe she could do a spell that would show us something. "
But Jack was shaking his head. "We've tried magic," he said. "Somehow Solomon's able to block it. It's like he's invisible and intangible to every sense we have, even the magical ones. "
"How can we search for someone who's invisible?" Meredith snapped. Her hands had balled into fists, and she looked ready to leap up and start fighting.
"I wish I knew," Jack said, sighing.
"There's a funny smell in here," Zander said suddenly, cocking his head.
"Blood?" Matt asked. He could smell the coppery scent of blood throughout the apartment, and it was making him feel sick.
Zander shot him a wry look. "Something else," he said, prowling across the living room to the kitchen, sniffing. "Over here, maybe," he said, sticking his head through the kitchen doorway.
"I don't smell it," Stefan said, following him. He said it mildly, though: They all knew that Zander's sense of smell was stronger than anyone's, even Stefan's.
In the doorway between the kitchen and bedroom, Zander bent down and scraped his nails across the floor, then straightened and brushed something into his palm. "Huh," he said. Matt craned forward to see what looked like plain old dirt in Zander's hand.
"What is it?" he asked.
Zander looked up, then came back into the living room, his hand extended. "It smells like apples," he said.
"There's that apple orchard to the west of town," Matt said thoughtfully. "Have you guys been there lately?" Stefan and Elena shook their heads.
"Could it be a clue?" Zander said, looking hopeful.
Jack's eyes widened, then he grinned and slapped Zander on the back. "Maybe what we needed was a werewolf's nose," he said. "Looks like we're going apple-picking tomorrow. "
Chapter 10
Meredith flipped her pillow over to find its cooler side, lay down again, and squeezed her eyes shut. Sleep, she told herself firmly. She had so much to do tomorrow, so much to do every day. She couldn't afford not to be rested.
But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was the cat's little body, bloody and torn. It was a message, she knew: Solomon wanted them to know it could have been any of them. Would be one of them, all of them, soon.
They were determined to find him, but so far Jack was right. Solomon seemed to be invisible.
They'd gone to the apple orchard and searched the fields and woods around it, hoping that Solomon's hideout would be nearby. Nothing. A heavy ominous feeling hung over all of them like a dark cloud. He was coming, and it would be better to hunt him and fight him on their own terms rather than wait for his attack.
Meredith flipped her pillow again and turned over, looking for a more comfortable position. Alaric was snoring softly next to her, sleeping like a log. Closing her eyes again, she saw white on red: the white cat ripped apart on the blood-drenched bed.
Then the image morphed into her friend Samantha, torn apart by vampires back in college, blood sprayed across her bed, and Meredith took a quick breath, one that sounded more like a sob to her own ears. Then it was her brother, Cristian, his gray eyes half-open, Meredith's own stave through his heart.
Every night recently it had been like this, images of death keeping Meredith awake until exhaustion finally caught up with her. So much death.
Pushing the memories away, she tried to make herself relax, timing her breathing to Alaric's: slow, long, steady breaths. She was so tired.
