The More Things Change

Eight

"Uncle John," I stuttered.

John strode beyond the arch. "Good to see you."

"Awesome," Jenna muttered. From her pinched expression, her disgust couldn't have been clearer if she'd advertised it on a billboard.

John dismissed Jenna with a glance before finishing his stroll to the island. Stopping beside me, he met my stare and smiled.

My own tight-lipped smile wobbled. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Jenna added.

John's attention stayed with me. "I got your text. It concerned me."

"Oh." My hand fell onto the counter with a little thump. "I lost my phone a few days ago. Someone must've found it. They've been texting weird stuff to everyone." I gestured to him with my other hand. "I should've called. I didn't realize you'd gotten them too."

John's elbow settled beside me. "Huh." His stare dug into mine, as if he wanted to burrow behind my eyes and into my head. "You know who took it?"

I rolled my shoulders. "No idea."

"Where'd you lose it?" he asked.

I thought about lying, but the way his eyes kept so steady as they refused to leave mine, even to blink—"The woods," I confessed. "By King."

"The woods?" The sour notes were gone from Jenna's voice, replaced by concern. "What were you doing in the woods?"

"Shortcut." My fingers curled against the countertop. My nails pressed against the marble until the pressure pinched the back of my fingertips. "I'd planned on visiting the cemetery. See mom and dad. But I changed my mind."

"The woods are dangerous, Elena," John said.

"Especially now, with all the attacks," Jenna added.

I nodded, swallowing. I brushed my hair back behind my ears. "I know. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"I should hope not," John said, frowning. "Still. It's a strange thing to text."

"Tell me about it. You should hear the heckling I've gotten at school over it."

His unblinking stare swept over my face again before he straightened up. "Well, I've got some other business to take care of in town. It may take me a few days."

"Fantastic," Jenna muttered.

John sent her another disinterested glance. "Isn't it?" He turned back to me as Jenna glared. "I'll be around to help out with—" he took in the kitchen with a sweeping gaze, "anything."

"Sounds good."

Jenna glare swung to me, accusations of betrayal in the narrowing of her eyes.

I lifted my bag. "I'd like to catch up, but I've got homework."

"Don't let me keep you," John replied. "We'll have time to talk later."

I forced my cheeks to pull the corners of my mouth higher. "Great." Hiking the strap over my shoulder, I walked out as calmly as I could. I kept that calm pace all the way up the stairs and into Elena's room.

Swinging the bag onto the bed, I lunged for the phone. Stefan's bright yellow post-it easy to pick out among the rest of the clutter. I was about to dial when a swore I heard a click over the dial tone. I paused, staring at the handset, paranoia whispering all kinds of possibilities into my ear. I let my hand drift back to the power base, standing the cordless inside.

This was far, far too soon for 'Uncle' John to appear. Did he already know the Salvatore brothers were back? They had both been in the area since the death of Elena's parents. Maybe word had reached him. Or Isobel.