The Past is Prologue: Chapter One - Grayson Gilbert
“I'm young. I live in a house my father owns, in a bed my father bought..Nothing is mine..except my heart and my fears and my growing knowledge that not every road is gonna lead home anymore.”
Grayson Gilbert was thirteen-years-old the day his father left work early to take him out to dinner. Not once in Grayson’s life had Dr. Johnathan Gilbert III ever left his practice early; birthdays, Christmases, anniversaries were all less important than Johnathan’s work, and his father made no apologies for that. He often lectured Grayson on the importance of his work, on the demands placed upon a small-town doctor; Grayson knew his father was trying to impress upon him the difficulty of the profession Grayson wanted to pursue, but most of the time Grayson would have preferred to have a dad who came to his Little League games.
The only events Johnathan never missed were those held at Founders’ Hall. His father took his role as a Founder very seriously; the walls in their house were lined with framed photos of their ancestors, the bookshelves full of old, musty tomes written by the first Johnathan Gilbert. Before Grayson could even read, he had been able to list his ancestors and the roles they played in founding Mystic Falls; as the only one left to carry on the Gilbert name, it was important he know his history.
Grayson prayed every day for a sibling. It was hard to be the only Gilbert, to have the weight of expectation crushing him every moment of every day. He was never allowed to mess up, never allowed to relax. No matter what he did, he had to be perfect, and if he was not perfect, he had to practice until he was. It made it so very difficult to enjoy anything when everything was a test.
Grayson felt like the oldest thirteen-year-old in existence.
And so, when Johnathan came home at four in the afternoon that Tuesday, Grayson was seated at the kitchen table working on his math homework, his mother toiling in the garden. He barely had time to put down his pencil before his father suggested they go for burgers at the newly opened Mystic Falls Grill.
It made Grayson feel unbearably important as they sat in the booth, his father’s attention fixated solely on him. Even when people stopped at their table, Johnathan sent them on their way, and Grayson practically preened with every question his father asked, with every genuine expression of interest. Usually it was his mother who asked the questions, who offered bits of advice and remembered details of his life; Mary Gilbert was the heart of their family, and Grayson loved her with everything he had.
After dinner, as they climbed into Johnathan’s car, Grayson was confused as his father drove past their road and continued towards the edge of town. When the cemetery came into view, Grayson assumed they were going to visit his grandparents’ graves; Johnathan insisted on laying flowers there every week, and, while Grayson had no memory of them, he liked how his father did that, the way he wouldn’t let his grandparents be forgotten.
Grayson was terrified of being forgotten.
They bounced down the unpaved road, past the clean, marble headstones towards Old Fell’s Church. Grayson had only been there once before, the summer he was ten; he, Richard Lockwood, and Bradley Fell were ramping their bikes in the woods when Rich dared he and Brad to go inside the old church. He had just barely crossed the threshold when the worst feeling filled his body; Rich and Brad both laughed at him as he ran away but there was something wrong about that church.
“We’re not going inside, are we?” Grayson asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.
Johnathan always said fear was for the weak; when Grayson had confessed to being scared of heights, Johnathan had made him climb the tree in their backyard until he was 20 feet off the ground before he would allow him to come back down, face wet with tears and snot.
Johnathan shook his head, turning off the ignition. “No, I just thought this would be a good place to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Do you know remember what happened at the Battle of Willow Creek?”
Grayson nodded, reciting what he had learned last Founders’ Day. “During the Civil War, thirty civilians were killed when the troops fired on the church.”
Johnathan gave a small smile. “Yes, that is what our history books say. But what if I told you they weren’t civilians? What if I told you the people in the church that day weren’t people at all?”
“Then what were they?”
“Vampires.”
Grayson sat stock still for a moment, trying to determine if his usually somber father was making a joke. When Johnathan’s face gave no indication of amusement, he asked, “Are you serious?”
And then Johnathan Gilbert began to speak far more than Grayson had ever heard. He talked about vampires and an herb called vervain; he discussed inventions the first Johnathan Gilbert created to weed out vampires and showed Grayson the ring he always wore on his right hand which protected him from supernatural death. And then he withdrew the pocket watch he always carried and handed it to Grayson.
“This is an heirloom, passed down from father to oldest son since 1864. If used correctly, it allows the holder to detect vampires. You’re old enough to carry it now.”
Grayson turned the gold watch over and over in his hands, his brain spinning wildly.
“I’m telling you this because it’s important to understand what your role will be in this town. It has always fallen to the Gilberts to guide the Founders’ Council, to guide this town. The responsibility you bear to Mystic Falls is greater than any other you will ever have in your life.” Turning the engine back on, he declared, “You’ll come with me to the meeting this week to see what I mean.”
When they got home, Grayson went straight to his room, clutching the pocket watch so tightly it dug into his palm.
Grayson had been coming to Founders’ Hall since he was a baby. His baptismal reception had been held there; he had celebrated holidays with the other Founders’ children in the grand room; he used to hunt Easter eggs on the grounds. One day, when he was old enough, he was going to attend the parties, the dances, and celebrations held in the evenings.
But today he was going to a meeting of the town vampire hunters, and it was taking everything inside of him not to vomit all over the marble floor.
Mayor Lockwood, Sheriff Forbes, and Reverend Fell were already in the conference room with their spouses; Brad, Rich, and Liz Forbes were all seated quietly against the wall, wearing stunned expressions which matched the way Grayson felt inside. Johnathan told him to take a seat, gesturing to the empty chair beside Liz, and Grayson obediently sat, trying to keep his nervousness under wraps.
“How fucking cool is this?” Brad whispered as he stretched across Liz, oblivious to the look of irritation across the blonde girl’s face.
“Awesome,” Grayson lied, swallowing back the lump forming in his throat.
Grayson nearly leapt out of his skin when his mother entered the room, apologizing gracefully as she took a seat beside Mrs. Lockwood; the idea of his mother - a woman who never raised her voice and despised disorder - sitting on the Monster Council was almost too much to take.
“Breathe,” Liz ordered under her breath, her lips barely moving so as not to be noticed by her father, who had started addressing the group.
Grayson’s gaze flicked towards her in confusion. “Huh?”
“You look like you’re going to pass out. Breathe,” she reiterated.
Rich and Brad did not look like they were going to pass out; Grayson had never felt more like a baby.
After almost an hour of discussing a series of animal attacks on the edge of town, Mayor Lockwood excused them, telling them to wait downstairs while they finished business. They filed out of the room, silently descending the stairs, before Grayson’s best friends exploded in excitement.
“We’re going to hunt monsters!” Brad exclaimed, pulling an umbrella out of the stand near the door, brandishing it as a sword. “I’m totally going to kill more vampires than you two!”
“Fuck you,” Rich spat, grabbing his own umbrella, thrusting it crudely towards Brad. “The only way you’re going to kill a vampire is if it chokes on your blood.”
Grayson didn’t say anything, mutely watching as his friends nearly maimed each other with umbrellas. He noticed Liz moving into the other room, and he followed, eager to escape the overzealous declarations of the excellence of their birthrights.
Of all of the Founders’ kids, Grayson knew the least about Liz. There were three Forbes girls: Liz and her younger twin sisters, Lilah and Laura. It was commonly accepted by everyone in Mystic Falls that the Forbes girls were the prettiest in town, but, since Mrs. Forbes died of cancer the year before, Liz had consciously gone out of her way to disguise her beauty. She cut off all her long, blonde hair until it was as short as a boy’s, hid her burgeoning curves beneath shapeless solid colored t-shirts, and never wore makeup the way the other girls did. Kelly Donovan had started calling her “Lezzie Forbes” earlier in the year, and it was a nickname that stuck; Grayson couldn’t remember the last time he had heard someone actually call her by her real name.
They had four classes together at Mystic Falls Middle School; she sat in front of him in every one of those classes, alphabetically bound to each other for their tenure in Mystic Falls, but it never occurred to Grayson to speak to her without a purpose. Everyone knew Liz wasn’t friendly; she didn’t hang out at her locker between classes, never socialized with any of the Founders’, and the only time she ever actually spoke to anyone was when her grade depended upon it. Liz Forbes would not have been Grayson’s first choice for a confidante.
And yet he sat beside her on the couch in the sitting area and could not help but ask, “Do you think this is cool?”
Liz scoffed. “Are you kidding? I keep hoping it’s a really big joke.”
Grayson smiled, his entire body relaxing into the cushions. “I know, right?”
“It’s like a curse,” Liz declared, nose wrinkling as they watched Brad and Rich circle each other, parrying and thrusting wildly. “Just because we’re the oldest, we have to spend the rest of our lives on vampire look-out? Why would anybody want that for their kids?”
He nodded, grateful to Liz for voicing everything he was thinking but felt too treasonous to say aloud.
“All I know is,” Liz continued definitively, “I’ll never bring my kid to one of these meetings.”
It was at that moment Grayson decided Liz Forbes was going to be his friend.
Liz’s house was nothing like his.
Grayson’s house thrived on order; he had never been allowed to have toys in the living room, his mother cleaned the entire house every day, and his father believed too many possessions only complicated life. Meal times were set in stone, the television was rarely on, and there was always a schedule.
The Forbes household was loud. Laura was always singing along to the radio and Lilah spent most afternoons alternately chattering away on the phone or watching television; backpacks and coats were tossed haphazardly no matter how many times Liz prompted her sisters to pick them up, and everyone seemed to operate on their own schedule completely independent from everyone else’s.
“It wasn’t always like this,” Liz confided one afternoon as they hid in the basement, the sounds of her sisters’ echoing above them. “Before my mom died, we were…normal.”
“You’re normal,” Grayson assured her, taking a swig from his Coke.
“We go to anti-vampire meetings, Gray. On what planet is that remotely normal?”
He laughed, shrugging in half-hearted agreement. “Rich asked his dad if he could take karate lessons in case he has to fight a vampire.”
“Rich gets his ass kicked by his little brothers on a daily basis; he’d be better off joining cross-country so he can outrun one.”
“Geez, Liz, can you say something nice about anyone?”
Grayson had meant it as a joke but it became clear as Liz’s face fell she did not take it as such. He opened his mouth to immediately apologize, hating the way pain folded her face, when she murmured, “I say nice stuff about you all the time.”
“Liz…”
She pushed off her father’s workbench, anger and embarrassment flooding her face. “I should get upstairs. They’ll wreck the place if I’m not there.”
“Wait! Lizzie!” he called up the stairs, the pounding of her sneakers on the stairs echoing in the basement.
Sheriff Forbes was standing at the top of the basement stairs, a frown on his lined face. Liz stood behind him, lower lip quivering, and Grayson knew how the situation must look.
He hoped Sheriff Forbes wouldn’t shoot him.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” was all the Sheriff said.
Liz didn’t speak to him for the next week. When he mentioned the silence to Rich, his friend rolled his eyes.
“Man, who cares? Lezzie Forbes is a freak, and the only reason she even comes to the meetings is because they don’t have a boy.”
“Don’t call her that,” Grayson ordered sharply, shocked by the fierceness in his own voice.
Rich raised his eyebrows, holding up his hands in resignation. “Whoa, dude, relax. I’m just saying, don’t get all worked up over nothing.”
“She’s not nothing.”
“What, are you in love with her?”
Grayson didn’t want to tell him how he considered Liz to be his best friend, how she was the only person he had to discuss how insane their lives had become.
Rich could never understand that.
Liz climbed the tree outside his window on a Friday night, tapping on the glass with a stick. Grayson was stunned when he got out of bed and saw the Sheriff’s daughter dangling on a limb, motioning for him to open the window.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, glancing at the neon glow of his alarm clock. “It’s almost midnight!”
“I want to show you something. Get your coat.”
They navigated their bikes through the paths in the woods, flying across Wickery Bridge, past the Salvatore Boardinghouse and the cemetery before reaching the falls. Grayson parked his bike beside hers, nearly tripping over exposed roots and weeds in an effort to keep up with Liz.
“Liz, what - “
The clearing overlooking the falls was brilliantly lit by the full moon, the cascading water a thousand different shades as it splashed against the rocks. Grayson had never seen the falls at night before, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing anything more beautiful.
“Before she died,” Liz explained softly, “my mom brought me out here. She made me promise I’d take care of my dad and my sisters. Nothing ever hurt as bad as when she died, and I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
Grayson stayed silent, unsure if he was supposed to say something.
“I don’t make friends and I don’t say nice things about people because then I’ll like them. And then I’ll love them. And then…if they go away…it’s going to hurt, and I don’t want to be hurt.”
“But then you don’t feel anything at all,” Grayson observed.
Liz nodded minutely. “I like being your friend, Gray.”
“I like you being my friend.”
“Really?”
The hope on Liz’s face nearly broke Grayson’s heart. “Really.”
“And you won’t leave?”
Grayson nodded before bending down, sifting through the dirt until he found a broken shard of a beer bottle. Carefully nicking his palm, he took Liz’s hand in his own, drawing a line of blood across her skin. With the precision of a future doctor, Grayson matched the wounds, his blood mingling with Liz’s.
“I promise I’ll never leave you if you promise to never leave me.”
Liz sniffled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Deal.”
In that moment, Grayson knew unequivocally that Liz Forbes would be his best friend until the day he died.
CHAPTER TWO: MIRANDA SOMMERS-GILBERT