[Location: The Cross Residence – Garage] [Time: 11:15 PM – Immediately Following Chapter 16]
The fluorescent light hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.
Jeremy Gilbert sat on a stool, clutching the cold soda can like a lifeline. He looked lost—a kid whose mind had been edited by a vampire, leaving behind jagged gaps of confusion.
"You said everyone is lying," Jeremy said, his voice quiet. "Who? Elena? Jenna?"
"They lie to protect you," I said, leaning against my workbench. "But protection is just another word for control. And I don't think you like being controlled."
Jeremy looked up, anger flashing in his eyes. "I feel like I'm sleepwalking, Adrian. I wake up, and I don't know why I'm sad. I see things... shadows... and my brain just tells me to ignore them."
"That's the fog," I said. "Metaphorically speaking."
I walked over to a locked cabinet. I keyed in the code.
I pulled out a heavy, leather-bound book. It wasn't an original Gilbert Journal—those were still in Jeremy's house (or Alaric's possession soon). This was my ledger. My notes on the town, the Council, and the history, transcribed from my memory of the show and my own investigations.
I slammed it onto the workbench. Dust motes danced in the light.
"You want to wake up?" I asked. "Read."
Jeremy hesitated, then reached out and opened the book.
He scanned the first page. His eyes widened.
The Founding Families. The Council. The burning of Fell's Church. 1864.
"This is... this is about the Civil War," Jeremy said.
"It's about the war under the war," I corrected. "The Founders didn't just build this town, Jeremy. They secured it. Against things that eat people."
I wasn't telling him about Stefan and Damon yet. If I outed them, the compulsion might break violently, or he might attack Stefan and get killed. I needed to aim him at the concept of monsters first.
"Vampires," Jeremy whispered. "That's what Jonathan Gilbert wrote about. I thought he was crazy."
"He wasn't crazy. He was an inventor. A soldier."
I picked up the Gilbert Watch from the table.
"He built this," I said. "It's not a watch. It's a compass. It points to them."
Jeremy stared at the device. "And you fixed it?"
"I improved it."
I looked Jeremy in the eye. "I'm building a map, Jeremy. Of the threats in this town. I need someone who knows the history. Someone who has access to the archives. Someone who isn't afraid to look into the dark."
"You want me to help you... hunt them?" Jeremy asked.
"I want you to help me audit them," I said, using the corporate term. "We identify the threats. We monitor them. And if necessary... we remove them."
Jeremy stood up. For the first time in weeks, he didn't look like a stoned, grieving kid. He looked like a Gilbert.
"Where do we start?"
"We start with your family archives," I said. "There is a journal missing. The 1864 volume. I think your new history teacher, Alaric Saltzman, might have his eyes on it."
"Saltzman?" Jeremy frowned. "He's just a teacher."
"He wears a Gilbert ring, Jeremy," I revealed. "He's in the game. Find out what he knows. But be subtle. Can you do that?"
Jeremy nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can do that."
"Good." I took the soda from him. "Go home. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, school isn't just school. It's reconnaissance."
Jeremy walked to the door. He stopped and looked back.
"Adrian?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. for... telling me the truth."
"Someone had to."
He left.
I locked the door.
I had just weaponized the protagonist's brother.
[Location: Mystic Falls High School – Library] [Time: 3:30 PM – The Next Day]
The library was the perfect hunting ground for information. It was quiet, smelled of old paper, and was the center of the "History Assignment" Alaric had assigned us.
I was shelving books (my cover for being there), watching Jeremy.
Jeremy was sitting at a table with Alaric. They were looking at old local maps. Jeremy was playing the role perfectly—showing interest, asking questions, trying to spot the ring on Alaric's finger.
Suddenly, the library door opened.
A girl walked in.
She was petite, dressed in period-appropriate "vintage" clothes that looked a little too authentic. She had dark hair, big eyes, and an air of deceptive innocence.
Anna.
My internal alarm bells rang.
Anna was a 500-year-old vampire. The daughter of Pearl. She was here to open the tomb to get her mother out. In the show, she befriends Jeremy to get access to the Gilbert Journal.
I watched her.
She scanned the room. Her eyes landed on Jeremy.
She smiled—a practiced, shy smile—and started walking toward his table.
Oh no you don't.
I couldn't let Anna sink her claws into Jeremy. He was my asset now. If she seduced him (or befriended him), she would find out about me, about the Watch, about everything.
I abandoned my cart of books and intercepted her path.
I stepped in front of her just as she passed the Reference section.
"Excuse me," I said, blocking her way.
Anna looked up, startled. "Oh. Sorry."
She tried to step around me. I stepped with her.
"You're new," I said, giving her the 'Student Body President' smile. "I'm Adrian. I usually know all the transfers."
Anna sized me up instantly. She saw a human. A heartbeat. A snack.
"I'm Annabelle," she said, her voice sweet and fake. "Just moved here. I'm looking for the history section. I have a paper to write."
"History," I nodded. "We have a lot of that here. 1864 is a popular year."
Anna's eyes flickered. Just a micro-expression of caution.
"Is it?" she asked innocently.
"Yeah. The Battle of Willow Creek. The burning of the church." I leaned in slightly. "A lot of people died. Some people say... not everyone stayed dead."
Anna's smile vanished. Her demeanor shifted from 'shy girl' to 'predator' in a split second.
"You have a weird sense of humor," she said coldly.
"And you have a very specific agenda," I countered, dropping the smile. "You're looking for Jeremy Gilbert."
Anna took a step closer. She didn't care about social distancing. "Who are you?"
"I'm his tutor," I lied. "And his friend. And the guy who knows that Jeremy doesn't have the journal you're looking for."
Anna froze.
I had just dropped the nuke. The Journal.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, but her muscles were coiled to strike.
"Save the act, Anna," I said, using her real name. "I know who you are. I know who Pearl is. And I know you want to open the tomb."
Anna grabbed my arm. Her grip was like a vice. She dragged me into the stacks, out of sight of the librarian.
"You talk too much for a human," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "Who told you about Pearl? Damon?"
"Damon doesn't know you're here," I said, wincing at the pressure on my arm but holding my ground. "And if you break my arm, I scream. Then Alaric Saltzman over there—the guy with the vampire-hunting ring—comes running. And Damon hears about it."
Anna glanced toward Alaric. She saw the ring on his finger.
She released my arm.
"What do you want?" she asked, wary.
"I want you to stay away from Jeremy," I said. "He's off-limits. You don't feed on him. You don't use him."
"He has the journal," Anna argued. "I need the Grimoire location."
"He had the journal," I corrected. "Now Alaric has it. Or Damon has it. It's moving around."
This was a lie, but a necessary one.
"If you want to open that tomb," I said, "you're going about it the wrong way. Seducing a high schooler is slow. You need leverage."
"And you're offering leverage?" Anna looked skeptical. "Why would a human help me open a tomb full of vampires?"
"Because," I said, fixing my cuffs. "I want something from the tomb too."
Anna narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"That's my business," I said. "But here is the deal: You leave Jeremy alone. You don't touch a hair on his head. In exchange... I keep your secret. I don't tell Damon you're in town. And when the time is right, I help you get the Grimoire."
Anna studied me. She was ancient, but she was desperate. She missed her mother. Desperation makes people take bad deals.
"If you cross me, Adrian," Anna said, her voice dropping to a growl. "I will peel your skin off."
"Fair enough," I said.
She stepped back. She looked at Jeremy one last time, a look of longing (for the journal, not the boy), and then turned to me.
"I'll be watching you."
She turned and walked out of the library.
I let out a breath.
I had diverted the threat. But now I had Anna on my board.
[Location: The Mystic Grill – Exterior] [Time: 6:00 PM]
I walked out of the Grill with a takeout bag.
"Adrian!"
I turned. Alaric Saltzman was jogging toward me.
"Mr. Saltzman," I said. "Everything okay?"
"I wanted to ask you something," Alaric said, catching his breath. "About Jeremy."
"What about him?"
"He was asking me a lot of questions today," Alaric said. "About my ring. About the journals. Did you put him up to that?"
Alaric was sharp.
"Jeremy is grieving," I said carefully. "He's looking for answers. He thinks his family history holds some secret to... why bad things happen."
Alaric looked at me. "And what do you think?"
"I think he's right," I said.
Alaric looked around to make sure the street was empty.
"I know you know, Adrian," Alaric said quietly.
"Know what?"
"About the vampires," Alaric said. The word hung in the air.
I didn't flinch.
"I don't know what you mean," I said.
"Don't insult my intelligence," Alaric snapped. "You warned me about the ring. You know about the Council. You're playing a dangerous game."
"I'm not playing a game, Mr. Saltzman," I said coldly. "I'm surviving it. Unlike you, I don't have a magic ring. If I die, I stay dead."
Alaric stepped closer. "I'm here to kill Damon Salvatore."
"Get in line," I said.
"He killed my wife," Alaric said. The pain in his voice was raw. "Isobel. He killed her and he drank her dry."
I looked at Alaric. I knew the truth—Isobel wasn't dead. She was a vampire. She chose this. But telling him that now would break him.
"If you go after Damon alone," I said, "you will die. Ring or no ring. He's too fast. He's too old."
"I have stakes," Alaric said. "I have vervain."
"He has speed," I countered. "And he has a brother who will protect him, even if he hates him."
I looked Alaric in the eye.
"You want Damon? You need a plan. You need allies."
"Are you offering?" Alaric asked.
"I'm offering advice," I said. "Don't move yet. Wait. Watch. Learn his routine. And for god's sake, don't try to stake him in the middle of the Mystic Grill."
Alaric stared at me. He saw a 17-year-old kid speaking with the tactical caution of a veteran.
"Who are you, Adrian?" he asked. "Really?"
"I'm the guy who cleans up the mess," I said.
I turned to walk away.
"One more thing," I said over my shoulder. "That journal Jeremy was asking about? The 1864 one? Don't let Damon get it. It has the location of the Grimoire."
"Grimoire?" Alaric asked.
"The instruction manual," I said. "For the apocalypse."
I walked to my Jeep.
Status Check: Jeremy secured. Anna neutralized (temporarily). Alaric warned (and manipulated).
The board was set.
Now, I needed to prepare for the Tomb Opening.
Because when that tomb opened, I wasn't just letting Pearl out.
I was going in.
To get the Moonstone.
(Wait, the Moonstone is in the Lockwood soap dish. But the Map to the other packs... that might be with Pearl).
I drove home. The night was young, and I had chemistry homework.
[End of Chapter 17]