The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unmasked

by L. J. Smith

  Meredith picked up a thin, silver-patterned scarf and folded it neatly. Elena had been wearing this the last time Meredith had seen her. “I finally know,” she’d told Meredith, her face so full of joy it hurt to remember. “Stefan wants me to live. He wants me to be happy. I can love Damon now … it’s okay.”

  Meredith blinked hard, pushing her tears away. Elena had been wrong. Everything was far from okay.

  Clutching the scarf, Meredith jerked open a drawer. As she was about to stuff it inside, her hands faltered at the sight of the maroon book inside. Who would have guessed that poised, grown-up Elena Gilbert kept a high school yearbook in the nightstand next to her bed?

  Gingerly, she pulled the book out of the drawer and flipped through its pages. Junior year. Their last real yearbook, the one before everything changed. There had been two yearbooks for senior year. The first, the one from the senior year Meredith remembered, had a memorial page for Elena Gilbert and Sue Carson. The other, for the changed world the Guardians had created, showed nothing but teams, classes, and clubs. Neither felt true now. But there was only one version of their junior year.

  Her own face, years younger, smiled up from a picture of Homecoming Court. Elena had been class Princess, of course. Junior dance committee. She, Elena, and Bonnie had quit debate team after about a month, but they were in the picture, grinning like goons. An action shot of Matt on the football field, his face set as he powered past a tackle. It all seemed so normal.

  She turned to the back, and her own handwriting stood out at her.

  Elena,

  What can I say? My best friend and sister, you’re always there for me. But I’ll remember the picnics up at Hot Springs, driving to the fraternity party at UVA, Matt and the guys crashing your birthday sleepover. All the times getting ready for a dance together—you, me, Bonnie, and Caroline—was even better than the dance itself.

  Have a super-fabu time in Paris this summer, you lucky girl, and remember this! Only one more year till FREEDOM!!!

  XOXO

  Meredith

  Such an ordinary yearbook message, between two ordinary girls. Before Elena’s parents had died. Before the Salvatore brothers had come to Fell’s Church, and nothing had ever been ordinary again. Elena and Meredith hadn’t gotten that freedom the message promised, the freedom to grow up and be normal, to determine their own destinies. Neither had Bonnie nor Matt, nor had the people they’d fallen in love with as they got older.

  Instead, they’d all been dragged under by the supernatural: vampires and werewolves, demons and Guardians. The responsibilities of saving everyone, of standing guard between everyday life and the darkness outside had pulled them all in, held them hostage.

  Elena most of all, Meredith thought, and snuck a look back at the bed. Elena’s chest moved almost imperceptibly as she breathed, her rattling, slow breaths loud in the quiet room. Elena had never really had a chance, not once she’d fallen for Stefan Salvatore.

  The bedroom door creaked open, and Damon came in, silent and graceful. He looked to the bed first, a quick, worried glance, and then leaned against the doorjamb as if he was suddenly too tired to stand. His eyes, red-rimmed, met Meredith’s, and she wondered if he’d been crying. Damon might rage or let himself be consumed with bitterness, but he never cried.

  But maybe now, at the end of everything, he did.

  Matt parked crookedly, one wheel up on the curb, and bolted out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “I knew this would happen someday,” he gritted out, teeth clenched, as he stormed down the sidewalk toward Elena’s apartment building. “I knew Stefan and Damon would get her killed.”

  Jasmine followed more slowly, her golden-brown eyes serious. “Don’t say that,” she told him, laying a hand on his arm as they waited for the elevator. “Elena’s not dead. We can’t give up on her.”

  Matt bit his lip and stayed silent for the elevator ride up to Elena’s apartment. The hall was quiet, and he hesitated a moment before knocking heavily on the apartment door.

  “Take the worst possible thing you can imagine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with rage, “and that’s it, that’s the truth. Always.” Beside him, Jasmine sucked in a breath and raised a hand to touch him again, just as the door swung open.

  Damon was in the doorway, his pale face pinched, his dark hair messy. He looked more human than Matt had ever seen him. Before anyone could speak, Matt balled up his fist and punched Damon in the face as hard as he could.

  Damon’s head rocked back slightly and he blinked in surprise, a red mark on his white cheek.

  “Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said with a thin, joyless smile. He touched his cheek lightly, and then let his hand drop, the smile disappearing. “I probably deserved that.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” Matt said, shouldering past him into the apartment.

  He stopped in the doorway of Elena’s bedroom. His heart sank at the sight of her.

  When he was little, there had been an amusement park up on Route 40 that had a fairytale theme to it. Matt’s dad used to take him up there on Saturdays sometimes. He hadn’t thought of it for years. But now it came rushing back. Silent and still, Elena reminded him of the Sleeping Beauty in the Hall of Fairies. The blonde princess, laid out like a sacrifice, not even a hint of movement. Pale and pretty and never changing.

  Matt had always thought she’d looked dead.

  Jasmine moved past him into the bedroom and felt Elena’s throat for a pulse, then lifted one eyelid to look at her pupils. She bit her lip and looked back toward Matt. He could read the regret in her face.

  “The doctors in Paris were baffled,” Damon said from behind him. “They’d never seen anything like this. I tried the hospital there before booking a plane home, just in case. But it was useless.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” Matt said. His mouth felt too dry, and his words sounded thick to his own ears. “The Guardians wouldn’t mess around with any kind of human illness. If they gave this to her, they’re the only ones who can fix it. We just need to make them do it.”

  Even as he said it, a cold rush of hopelessness spread through him. What did they have to offer the Guardians? What could possibly entice those clear-eyed, emotionless judges to give back Elena?

  “Well, how did you get the Guardians to come when Elena made the original bargain with them?” Meredith asked. “Maybe we can convince them …” Her voice trailed off, as she clearly tried and failed to imagine the Guardians of the Celestial Court being moved by anything they had to say. They had only listened to Elena because she was valuable to them.

  Damon gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper. They were wasting time, he was sure of it. The Celestial Guardians had no interest in helping them.

  “The little Guardian, Andrés, went into a trance and told them Elena was ready to kill me,” he said flatly. “That brought Mylea fast enough. Unfortunately, we’ve got a shortage of Earthly Guardians around here now.”

  “They saved you. Funny, isn’t it, how everyone dies except you, Damon?” Matt said, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. “Andrés. Stefan. And now—” His words broke off, and his mouth closed in a thin, miserable line.

  A hot ball of hate burned in Damon’s chest, and he momentarily imagined breaking Matt’s neck. He could easily envision the shocked expression in the boy’s blue eyes, the crisp snap of his spine. Then his shoulders slumped as he let the anger drain out of him. He deserved Matt’s scorn. Everything Matt had said was true. The thing Damon was best at was survival, and now he’d outlived everyone—almost—who’d ever managed, despite everything, to love him. If Elena died, there would be no one.

  He didn’t want to think about it.

  As footsteps approached the apartment door, he straightened, then rose from his seat. He thought he recognized the quick, light steps pattering down the hall, and the steady, heavier tread that followed. The door opened, and Bonnie burst in.

  “We got here as fast as we could,” she said rapidly. “The
airport was a zoo, and then the traffic coming down from Richmond was—” She broke off. “Oh, Meredith.” She flung herself across the room and into the taller girl’s arms.

  They clung to each other for a minute, Bonnie’s face buried in Meredith’s shoulder, and then she raised her head and held it high, sticking out her chin bravely. “So, I’m gone for a couple of weeks and everything falls apart?” she said. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her tone was casual, even joking.

  Good girl. Damon knew the little redbird would stay brave, even though she was as scared as they all were.

  Zander was leaning in the doorway, watching them all patiently. His longish white-blond hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were solemn.

  Letting go of Meredith, Bonnie took a deep breath. “So, what can I do?”

  “Well,” Meredith said, “we think you’re probably our best chance of getting in touch with Mylea or the other Celestial Guardians. If you can go into a trance and reach them, maybe we can convince them to save Elena.”

  Bonnie grimaced. “I’ve been trying,” she said. “Ever since you called me. But … nothing. If they can hear me, they’re not responding.”

  “It’s not going to work,” Damon said, unable to stop himself. Why would the Guardians listen to them? If they were letting this happen to Elena, the Guardians had written her and her Powers off. They’d never had the slightest interest in the rest of them, other than planning to kill Damon himself.

  “You have a better idea?” Matt sneered.

  “Try to contact Elena instead,” Damon said quickly, the idea coming to him as he spoke. “You did it when Klaus had her, and we didn’t have anything, not even a body then. Now we’ve still got Elena, she’s just … We can’t reach her.” His chest felt uncomfortably tight as he finished the sentence.

  Whatever Bonnie heard in his voice, her face softened. “I’ll try,” she said and made her way to where Elena laid.

  The way Elena’s hands were folded across her chest was too much like a corpse, and Damon grimaced.

  “Oh, Elena,” Bonnie said, her brown eyes shining with tears. Standing at the bedside, she touched Elena’s forehead gently, just for a moment.

  The others trailed in after her. Jasmine and Matt stood on the other side of the bed, Matt only glancing at Elena briefly before fixing his gaze on the wall. Jasmine took his hand and squeezed it hard. Zander leaned against the wall, holding a bag of Bonnie’s supplies, while Meredith hovered at the foot of the bed, her fingers twisting nervously. Damon stood in the doorway.

  Bonnie took Elena’s limp hands in hers and shut her eyes, her forehead crinkling in concentration. Then she opened her eyes again and shook her head, letting go of Elena. “I’m going to need to focus,” she said. “Can you guys wait outside?”

  Damon stepped farther into the room, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m staying.”

  Bonnie sighed. “Is it any use arguing with you about this?” she asked. When Damon stayed silent, she gave him a rueful half smile. “Then I won’t bother. But everybody else out. I need quiet.”

  Matt looked like he wanted to object, but he filed out with the others. As Zander left, he handed the bag he was holding to Bonnie, brushing his fingers against hers as he passed it over.

  “Okay,” Bonnie said, businesslike, when the others were all gone and the door was closed behind them. “If you want to stay, you have to help.” She handed him the bag. “Pull out the purple and blue candles, and put them on the nightstand near her head. They’re good for deep healing. I don’t know if they’ll help, but they can’t hurt.”

  Damon followed her directions. He kept his eyes fixed on the candles as he arranged and lit them.

  Once the candles were in place, Bonnie took out a bronze bowl and set it on the padded bench at the foot of Elena’s bed. Pulling out an assortment of little bags, she started adding pinches of dried herbs to the bowl. “Anise for dreams,” she told Damon absently, and tipped in some limp dry flower petals. “Chrysanthemum petals for healing and protection. Mugwort, that’s for psychic powers and traveling. I just have to reach her.” She added a splash of oil from a small bottle, then pulled out a silver lighter and, with a flick of her finger, set fire to the small pile of herbs in the bowl. They smoldered slowly, a trickle of black smoke rising up toward the ceiling.

  “Since when do you need anything to light a flame, redbird?” Damon asked, and Bonnie tilted her chin in acknowledgment of his point.

  “I figure I should save my energy,” she said, and dug a thin silver dagger out of the bag. “Cut me a piece of Elena’s hair, please.”

  Damon hesitated before moving back to the head of the bed. Elena’s mouth was relaxed, a tiny bit open, and her thick golden lashes brushed her cheekbones. Thin, bluish capillaries ran across her eyelids, and her brow was smooth, untroubled. She looked like a doll or an empty image. As if there were no Elena left in there at all.

  Her hair slid silkily across his fingers as he lifted a lock, and he could smell the citrus scent of her shampoo. Cutting through the hair, he winced as he accidentally pulled it tight, but Elena didn’t react.

  “Okay,” Bonnie said, taking the lock of hair from him and dropping it into the bowl. The sickening smell of burning hair filled the room. “Now, cut her arm.”

  Damon’s gaze shot up to meet hers. Bonnie looked at him squarely, her mouth set. “We need her blood,” she said.

  Of course. It always has to be blood. If anyone ought to know that, it was a vampire. Blood and hair, intimate and primal, would lead Bonnie to Elena if anything would. He lifted Elena’s arm, and Bonnie slid the bowl beneath it as Damon used the silver knife to make a thin, shallow scratch on the underside of Elena’s forearm. He half hoped for a twitch of pain as he cut, but again, Elena didn’t react. A few drops of blood dripped into the bowl before Bonnie pulled it away. There was a soft, sizzling noise.

  Damon could smell the richness of Elena’s blood, and his canines ached and sharpened in response, but he barely noticed. Taking a tissue from the box by the bed, he pressed it against the spreading red line on Elena’s arm for a few moments until the bleeding had stopped.

  “Now what?” he began to say, but his voice died as he turned back to Bonnie. A sensation of Power rose and filled the room, making Damon’s skin tingle. Bonnie had already slipped into a trance, her eyes wide and blank. Her pupils dilated as she stared down into the flames in the brass bowl.

  Her hands rested lightly on the end of Elena’s bed. Her breathing slowed and deepened. As Damon watched, Bonnie’s eyes flickered, tracking something that only she could see.

  Crossing the room, Damon let himself lounge against the windowsill, gazing out. Bonnie could be in a trance for a very long time. Outside the window, it was still pitch-black, although it must be the early hours of the morning by now. He unloosed a questioning tendril of his own Power, searching into the darkness.

  There wasn’t much out there. The sharp, predatory mind of an owl swooping silently through the sky. A wily fox slipped through the bushes near the apartment building. Farther away, he could sense the quiet consciousness of the humans asleep through the town.

  Behind him, Bonnie’s mind was questing, gently but determined. He could feel the others, too, each one’s mind churning restlessly as they waited outside the bedroom.

  But, even though she was right behind him, lying in that white-draped bed, he could feel nothing of Elena. Damon felt as if something inside him had been ripped apart. His Elena, just one last breath away from leaving him forever.

  And then he thought he saw one slender golden eyebrow twitch, just a millimeter.

  “Bonnie,” he said, his throat constricting. But the little witch, deep in her trance, didn’t hear him. He came closer to the bed again, close enough that he could feel the heat of the candles burning all around Elena.

  Nothing. She could have been a statue. He sent his Power out desperately, but there was no glimmer of consciousness from her.

  He must
have imagined it.

  Damon crouched down and brought his face closer to Elena’s, watching her carefully. Time passed and he stayed still, his gaze intent on Elena’s face. He was a predator; he could keep his mind clear and his eyes sharp for hours. But there was nothing.

  He couldn’t leave here, not while there was still that cruel drop of hope. But if Elena died, then it would be time to take off the ring that had let him walk in sunlight all these years. He could step into the sun and let go at last.

  His jaw tightened. He wasn’t going to give up yet. After all, Elena had survived so much before this.

  Dawn was breaking, sending long swathes of pink and gold across the sky, by the time Bonnie finally stirred. She blinked at Damon, seemingly confused. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her usually creamy skin looked pale and wan.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice small. “Oh, Damon.” She pressed one slim hand against her mouth, as if holding back her own words.

  Damon straightened, feeling as if he were stepping in front of the firing line. Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. The tiny spark of hope in his chest flickered and began to burn again. “Well?” he asked.

  Bonnie’s eyes reddened, then overflowed, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t even begin to tell what’s wrong. I couldn’t reach her. It was like—like she’s already gone.”

  Damon jerked backward, and Bonnie reached out a trembling hand toward him. “I think,” she sobbed, “I think it might be time to start saying good-bye. Whatever the Celestial Guardians did to her, I don’t think Elena’s coming back.”

  “No.” Damon heard his own voice, sharp as a whipcrack, and he strode forward, straight past Bonnie, and flung open the bedroom door. The others were out there, all of them, but he ignored their babble of questions as he shouldered past them. He had a brief impression of Meredith’s face, anxious and strained, before he left the apartment.