by L. J. Smith
“There’s another reason it couldn’t have been you,” Damon said when Stefan admitted defeat. “Bonnie’s been going into trances again.”
“What? What did she say?”
“The first two times were just general scare-everybody stuff, like ‘You’re all going to die.’ But tonight, right after the news broadcast she said that—well, essentially that both Elena and the new girl were sacrifices. Blood sacrifices. Also that whoever was behind the sacrifices was going to continue making them. . . for ‘fun.’”
Stefan’s head came up. “But how can—what I did with Elena—be part of anyone else’s sacrifice?”
“I don’t know. Although Bonnie did mention tonight that something more was going to happen to Elena. She didn’t specify what. And that first night at Mercy Havenwick she said that Elena was going to die.”
“And you never even thought about telling me?” Stefan asked in a deadly cold voice.
“Honestly? No, I didn’t. I imagined that you had enough to deal with already. And besides, at the hospital I didn’t really take anything Bonnie said in trance too seriously. I thought she was picking up on some insane patient’s nightmares or something.”
Stefan shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting a headache.”
“Serves you right,” Damon said unkindly. “You’ve been giving them to me for half a millennium.”
“How? By not screaming loudly enough when you attacked me? By occasionally finding someplace to hide where you couldn’t persecute me?”
Damon decided that discreet silence was the better part of valor for the moment. He merely smiled faintly.
“You realize,” Stefan said heavily, “that I can’t leave now. Not until I’m certain that she’s going to be safe.”
Damon had his own private theory as to whether Stefan would have been able to leave under any circumstances, but all he said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Stefan shrugged. “I can’t leave you supposedly watching over Elena when half the time your eye is on Bonnie.”
There was a silence.
It stretched. Damon was trying to figure out what the proper response to a comment like this would be.
A full thirty seconds later, he decided. Wordlessly, he dove for Stefan, got his hands around Stefan’s neck, and tried to throttle the undeath out of him.
This time Stefan didn’t try to choke him in return. He gathered a huge amount of Power and let it loose at Damon at point-blank range.
Lights went off behind Damon’s eyes. He didn’t feel the pain at the moment, though. That was part of his last-ditch weapon during fights: to store up the pain for later. It kept his head clear and had the added benefit of making him never want to stop fighting.
He prepared his own bolus of Power and slammed it into Stefan. Stefan flinched slightly and Damon pressed his advantage, knocking his brother into the nightstand with the lamp on it. There was a splintering crash as the nightstand went over and the lamp shattered on the ground and went out.
The two of them went on fighting for quite a while in what, to humans, would have been pitch darkness. Occasionally one or the other would snap sharpened canines at his opponent, because to bleed another vampire is to finish the fight with honors. They were too evenly matched, however, for either of them to manage this.
Eventually, Damon got tired of trading blows and blasts. He could feel how much Stefan’s responses had slowed down, and he made a sudden feint by going limp, and then, when Stefan was pinned on the floor by his dead weight, he struck like a cobra for his brother’s neck. The tip of one canine just grazed a vein and a small and bitter amount of vampire blood spurted into his mouth.
Stefan went limp in his turn, but Damon didn’t bother to check whether it was a feint or not. He simply dragged his own body up and away, and forced his muscles to leave him propped languidly against the wall. He pressed some button in his brain and all the various pains and indignities he had suffered during the fight washed over him. They hurt, but he was still standing when his head cleared.
Stefan was getting up now, apparently seeking the bed to sit on, but uselessly since it had been overturned in the early stages of the fight. At last he found the chair that went with the desk (also now overturned) and collapsed on it.
Damon felt a little better. It had been a strange, silent battle, without any of the usual elaborate Italian cursing involved, but he felt he had made his point. He’d also proved, as if it needed to be established, that human blood would always provide superior Power, and that Stefan’s diet of animal blood was always going to betray him sooner or later.
Damon did his best at lounging against the wall and tried to remember exactly why he had attacked his younger brother in the first place. Oh, yes. Stefan had gotten fresh about Damon’s girls and Damon wasn’t going to let anyone get away with that.
“If you don’t mind,” Damon said, managing one gorgeous smile at nothing in particular, “let’s consider that particular subject closed.”
Stefan was still trying to make sure that he still had the normal complement of limbs, fingers and ears. At last he said, sullenly, “You can close as many subjects as you want. But I’m not leaving until I’m certain that Elena is reasonably safe.”
“Fine,” Damon said sarcastically. “Why didn’t you just say so in the beginning? It would have saved trouble. You can stay in this room if you want to—possibly after some major redecorating,” he added, looking around. They had done a pretty thorough job.
“Of course I can’t stay here,” Stefan said heatedly. “You’re staying here.”
“Of course I’m not staying here,” Damon replied, his voice icy with contempt. “I’m staying with Elena in her room.”
“You’re . . . moving in with her? That’s what you’re planning?”
“I already have moved in. And I’ve been through one big noisy fuss about it already, so don’t even think about starting another.”
Stefan was briefly silent. Then he said slowly, “So you’re sleeping on her floor?”
Damon lost his temper. “Little brother, you were the one who set all this up, right? You set me up to live like Elena’s human lover. Just exactly what were you expecting me to do?”
“To watch over Elena the way you did back when she first became a vampire,” Stefan said passionately. “Do you even remember that? The days when you watched over her without—without taking advantage of her!”
“No, that’s not true: what you expected. You knew exactly what you were doing when you made me her ‘boyfriend of a year.’ You set this all up. And you presume that I should behave completely differently from you when she loved you?”
Stefan stared into the distance. He gave the impression of panting, although he wasn’t doing anything of the kind. “I don’t know—I don’t remember what I expected of you,” he said angrily at last. “Except what I made you promise. I certainly didn’t expect to have to stay here and watch it!”
“There,” Damon said in his most distantly polite tone, “is the door. You will find it leads to a corridor, some stairs, and a place called Outside. Go Outside and then get the hell off of my territory. I’m telling you this, by the way, as the person who bled you not five minutes ago.”
“You won a fight. Big deal. Nothing is going to make me leave Elena if a—a copycat vampire is around. Do you really even think there’s a strange vampire in the vicinity?”
Damon shrugged. “Give me the benefit of your wisdom, little brother. What else can it be?”
“I don’t know,” Stefan said slowly. In the dark, his pupils filled his irises so that his eyes were only just ringed with a narrow band of green. He stared intently at Damon a moment before he added, “It could be something new. Something that came up from the Nether World. Have you ever heard of a baobhan sith?” He pronounced it “baa-van shee.”
“A what?” Damon demanded. “No, don’t bother to tell me. Whatever it is, it’s my fau
lt, right? If it’s from the Nether World, it’s on me.” Suddenly Damon felt tired and sick. And . . . hungry. Yes, definitely quite hungry. He needed to feed soon.
“Look,” he said almost expressionlessly. “If you won’t leave my territory, at least leave the campus. Go and live in the forest the way I did in the Old Wood in Fell’s Church. But get the freaking hell out of here. You don’t belong here now, any more than I belonged to Elena’s coterie last year. Can you understand?”
Stefan looked tired himself as he replied, “Just for information’s sake: I wasn’t trying to blame the sith creature on you. It was just a theory about why we can’t find a vampire, and undoubtedly it’s wrong. And I will leave the campus; I promise that after tonight you’ll never see me again. But first I’m going to tell you the prophecies Mrs. Flowers told me. You may need them. And I’m going to give you two things for Elena.”
Damon felt dim interest in the prophecies in spite of himself. The old lady could be helpful at times. “So?”
Dragging out each word, Stefan gave two completely meaningless oracular sayings to Damon, who listened with growing disappointment and afterward commented, “How . . . quaint. I’d say she’s fruity as a nutcake, but I’m sure you’d take exception.”
“I thought you should know about them,” Stefan repeated doggedly. “And here are the things for Elena. This locket I gave her the night we—parted. I’ve taken my picture out; you can replace it with one of you, if you like.”
Damon examined the locket silently. The ruby red rose was certainly striking against the black diamond background. It was a nice piece of craftsmanship.
“And the second thing?” he asked, sticking the necklace in his jeans pocket.
“It’s this coverlet. I had it commissioned as well. It’s based on a painting she likes.”
“Memoriam,” Damon read. “Memory.”
“Actually, it’s called ‘Choosing.’ It’s one of Elena’s favorites. Somehow I found that a bit . . . ironic.”
“Not anymore.” Damon gave his sweetest smile. “Thank you, on Elena’s behalf, for both of these. I’m sure she’ll enjoy receiving them—again.”
He waited a minute and then added, “You know what’s really odd, though? I don’t see any signs of you leaving here.”
“I thought I might stay and try to put the room back together.”
“Right now? And outrage your neighbors all over again? Just leave it! If the police ever do come, it can be part of my story. ‘My own room got trashed and Elena kindly took me in.’”
“Fine, then. I’m going.”
“See you around,” Damon said dourly.
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will.”
* * *
“What happened? Why am I lying down?” Bonnie said abruptly into the silence that pervaded Elena’s room. She reached up and touched her head. “Why am I wet and lying down?” she added querulously, as her fingers encountered the melting ice pack.
Elena looked at Meredith and nodded. Meredith, who had been standing by Bonnie’s side, bent over her and spoke quietly. “You had another little . . . episode. And then you fainted and hit your head. The icepack was Damon’s idea.”
“Oh.” Bonnie stopped trying to remove it. “What did I say this time?”
Meredith glanced at Elena, who shook her head. Meredith bit her lip.
“Bonnie . . . let’s just go home now. I’ll bring a pizza and you can lie down in your own bed.”
There was a silence.
“It was that bad?” Bonnie asked in a small voice at last.
“It just doesn’t need to be repeated,” Elena said. “Not this evening. Listen to Meredith, Bonnie. You’ll feel better soon. And thank you so much for my beautiful room.”
Bonnie hesitated, but Meredith was already urging her up. Elena insisted that they take an entire pizza with them, along with the ice pack, wrapped in fresh paper towels.
“I suppose that I’d better go, too,” Caroline said, and accepted a box of pizza herself, along with Elena’s thanks.
After she was gone, Elena seemed to deflate, as if she were stripped of her company mood. She suggested that Matt eat some of the third pizza, and then she sat and stared into a middle distance.
Matt wasn’t hungry. He was cursing himself for being a coward. He could see how shaken Elena was. He wanted to go to her and put an arm around her again—just as a friend—but he didn’t quite dare while they were alone.
Although that didn’t make any sense. Damon could hardly be jealous of an arm around Elena’s shoulder when he had kissed Bonnie—twice—as “shock treatment” and nothing more.
Of course, the whole shock treatment argument just led Matt’s mind into more trouble. For one thing, it hadn’t worked: Bonnie was still having those psychogenic trances or whatever. And for another; well, it was pretty clear that Damon liked Bonnie. A lot. Enough that, in Matt’s opinion, it was fairly insulting to Elena.
Matt rubbed his forehead and blinked a few times, trying to get rid of what was a very bad feeling about his very best friend.
“Getting a headache, too?” Elena asked in a subdued voice.
“No,” Matt said hastily. “No, I’m fine.”
“None of us are fine tonight. Not after what happened with Bonnie.”
“Maybe . . .” Matt tried to make his voice sound optimistic. “Maybe Damon will find a way to help her.”
Elena just gave him a haunted look. “How?”
Matt didn’t know. He had faith in Damon. Maybe too much faith, he thought abruptly. Maybe he should be trying to figure out what was causing Bonnie to behave this way, too.
It was strange. He knew that he had a hundred reasons for trusting Damon implicitly. After all, he’d given up his scholarship to Kent State in order to go to school where his best buddy was going. That was a pretty extreme thing to do, but it just demonstrated that those hundreds of reasons were highly compelling.
The only problem was that out of the hundreds, he couldn’t seem to focus clearly on any particular one.
* * *
Elena tied to make small talk with Matt while they waited for Damon to return, but finally she fell silent. She didn’t want to admit it, but Bonnie’s latest outburst had frightened her badly.
Blood and death . . . Sacrifices . . . For fun!
What in God’s name was that supposed to mean? And what was happening to Bonnie? She seemed to get sicker with every hour that passed.
She’s a little hysterical about what happened to you—and she’s a sensitive girl under stress, Damon’s voice in her mind seemed to counsel sensibly.
So why does she still act this way when I’m out of the hospital and we’re all having a good time? Elena asked the voice, which suddenly fell silent.
She shook her head slowly. “Matt, nothing makes sense, anymore. But . . . Damon’s going to be back soon, I imagine, and he thinks he’s won on this ‘I’m inviting myself to half of your bed’ thing.”
Matt looked at her, clearly surprised. “That’s what I thought, too. That’s what everyone—” He broke off, flushing.
“I know what everyone thinks and I couldn’t care less,” Elena said shortly. “But the truth is that I have to keep my promise to Aunt Judith. I have an idea of how to convince him that I mean that. Will you help me?”
“Uh . . . sure,” Matt said. He looked quite relieved, for some reason. “So, you have a plan?”
“Oh, I have plenty of plans,” Elena murmured. “But we’ll start with something outrageous, I think. Okay with you?”
“Fine with me,” Matt said, with surprising enthusiasm.
* * *
Caroline closed the door of her dorm room behind herself. She put the box of delicious-smelling-if-it-didn’t-have-too-many-green-peppers-on-it pizza down, then put her hands on her hips, easing her aching muscles. Oh, God, she didn’t need a mirror to know how far her stomach protruded. She’d been so proud of her abs, too.
“Ouch!”
Caroline sat down carefully on her bed. She stretched out the fingers of both hands to examine her lovely green nails.
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed in annoyance. The nail on her left pinkie had broken diagonally off at the outer edge.
If that wasn’t the most aggravating thing . . . ! She huffed as she got an emery board and began to work on the uneven end of the nail.
It had probably happened while Bonnie had been doing her “crazy” routine. Caroline might be a werewolf, but at least she didn’t have to act as if she were insane just to get attention. The nerve of some people!
* * *
Meredith watched Bonnie from under her eyelashes as they walked from Elena’s room to theirs.
She held the pizza box in both hands, with the icepack on top. It wasn’t the most efficient of arrangements, but their room was only a few steps away.
She wished that she could think of something more to do for Bonnie than wrap her in a heating blanket, apply the icepack to the bump on her head and make her some kind of soothing tea. Chamomile, maybe.
And then . . . ridiculously and most unfairly, Meredith wanted to go on a long run, all the way around campus. She felt so frustrated somehow, as if she desperately needed exercise. Her limbs were literally aching for a workout.
Which was odd, because she could never remember having exercised just for the sake of it before. She’d always gotten plenty of walking done each day and that had been fine—right?
She shouldn’t be thinking about herself, anyway. She had to watch Bonnie the way an EOD technician watched a bomb and pray that Damon would figure out what on earth was going on with her friend.
Weirdly, she had an unreasonable impulse to watch Caroline like an EOD tech, as well. Or maybe just like the proverbial hawk. There was something about that girl . . . The word for what Meredith meant seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite bring it to her lips.
