by Smith, L. J.
“And, you might ask, what were three teenagers doing out in the middle of nowhere, in Union County, Tennessee, according to the last road sign I saw? We’re heading toward some Gate to the Dark Dimension…where Shinichi and Misao left Stefan in the prison called the Shi no Shi. Shinichi only put the knowledge into Damon’s mind, and I can’t get Damon to say much about what kind of place it is. But Stefan is there and I’ll get to him somehow, even if it kills me.
“Even if I have to learn how to kill.
“I’m not the sweet little girl from Virginia I used to be.”
Elena stopped and blew out her breath. But then, cuddling herself, she went on.
“And why is Matt along with us? Well, because of Caroline Forbes, my friend since kindergarten. Last year…when Stefan came to Fell’s Church, she and I both wanted him. But Stefan didn’t want Caroline. And after that she turned into my worst enemy.
“Caroline was also the lucky winner of Shinichi’s first visit to any girl in Fell’s Church. But more to the point: she was Tyler Smallwood’s girlfriend quite a while before she was his victim. I wonder how long they were together and where Tyler is now. All I know is that, in the end, Caroline hung on to Shinichi because she ‘needed a husband.’ That was how she put it herself. So I assume—well, what Damon assumes. That she’s going to…have puppies. A werewolf litter, you know? Since Tyler is a werewolf.
“Damon says that having a werewolf baby turns you into a werewolf even faster than if you’re bitten, and that at some point in the pregnancy you gain the power to be all wolf or all human, but before that point you’re just a mixed-up mess.
“The sad thing is that Shinichi scarcely gave Caroline a second glance when she blurted it all out.
“But before that Caroline had been desperate enough to accuse Matt of—of assaulting her—on a date that went wrong. She had to have known something about what Shinichi was doing because she claimed her ‘date’ with Matt was at a time when one of the arm-swallowing mallach was attacking him, making marks on his arm that looked like a girl’s fingernail scratches.
“That sent the police after Matt, all right. So basically I just made him come with us. Caroline’s father is one of the most important people in Fell’s Church—and he’s friends with the district attorney in Ridgemont and the leader of one of those men’s clubs where they have secret handshakes and other stuff that makes you, you know, ‘prominent in the community.’
“If I hadn’t convinced Matt to run instead of facing Caroline’s charges, the Forbeses would have lynched him. And I feel the anger like a fire inside me—not just anger and hurt for Matt, but anger and the feeling that Caroline has let all girls everywhere down. Because most girls aren’t pathological liars, and wouldn’t say something like that about a boy falsely. She’s shamed all girls by doing what she did.”
Elena paused, looking at her hands, and then added, “Sometimes when I get angry at Caroline, cups shake or pencils roll right off the table. Damon says all this is caused by my aura, my life force, and that ever since I came back from the afterlife it’s been different. First of all, it makes anyone who drinks my blood incredibly strong.
“Stefan was strong enough that the fox demons could never have forced him into their trap if Damon hadn’t tricked him in the beginning. They could only deal with him when he was weakened and surrounded by iron. Iron is bad news for any eldritch creature, plus vampires need to feed at least once a day or they get weak, and I’ll bet—no, I’m sure that they used that against him.
“That’s why I can’t stand to think about what shape Stefan might be in right this minute. But I can’t let myself get too afraid or angry or I’ll lose control of my aura. Damon showed me how to keep my aura mostly inside, like a normal human girl. It’s still pale gold and pretty, but not a beacon for creatures like vampires.
“Because there’s one other thing my blood—maybe even just my aura—can do. It can…oh, well, I can say anything I want to here, right? Nowadays, my aura can make vampires want me…the way human guys do. Not just to bite, get it? But to kiss and all the rest. And so, naturally, they come after me if they sense it. It’s as if the world is full of honeybees and I’m the only flower.
“So I have to practice keeping my aura hidden. If it’s just barely showing, then I can get away with seeming like a normal human, not somebody who’s died and come back. But it’s hard to always remember to hide it—and it hurts a lot pulling it in suddenly if I’ve forgotten!
“And then I feel—this is absolutely private, all right? I’m putting a curse on you, Damon, if you replay this. But it’s then that I feel like I want Stefan to bite me. It eases up the pressure, and that’s good. Being bitten by a vampire only hurts if you fight it, or if the vampire wants it to hurt. Otherwise, it can just feel good—and then you touch the mind of the vampire who’s done it, and…oh, I just miss Stefan so much!”
Elena was shaking now. As hard as she tried to quiet her imagination, she kept thinking about the things that Stefan’s jailers might be doing to him. Grimly, she gripped her mobile again, letting tears fall on it.
“I can’t let myself think of what they might do to him because then I really start to go crazy. I become this useless shaking insane person who just wants to scream and scream and never stop. I have to fight every second not to think about it. Because only a cool, calm Elena with a Plan A and B and C is going to help him. When I have him safe in my arms, I can let myself shake and cry—and scream, too.”
Elena stopped, half laughing, her head bent against the passenger’s seatback, her voice husky with overuse.
“I’m tired now. But I have a Plan A, at least. I need to get more information from Damon about the place we’re going, the Dark Dimension, and anything he knows about the two clues Misao gave me about the key that will unlock Stefan’s cell.
“I guess…I guess I haven’t mentioned that at all. The key, the fox key, that we need to get Stefan out of his cell, is broken into two pieces that are hidden in two different places. And when Misao was taunting me about how little I knew about those places, she gave me flat-out clues about where they were. She never dreamed I’d actually go into the Dark Dimension; she was just showing off. But I still remember the clues, and they went like this: The first half is ‘in the silver nightingale’s instrument.’ And the second half is ‘buried in Bloddeuwedd’s ballroom.’
“I need to see if Damon has any ideas about these. Because it sounds as if once we get to the Dark Dimension we’re going to have to infiltrate some people’s houses and other places. To search a ballroom, it’s best to somehow get invited to the ball, right? That sounds like ‘easier said than done,’ but whatever it takes, I’ll do. It’s simple as that.”
Elena lifted her head in determination and went still, then said in a whisper, “Would you believe it? I looked up just now and I can see the palest streaks of dawn in the sky: light green and creamy orange and the faintest aqua…. I’ve talked all through the darkness. It’s so peaceful now. Just now the sun peeked up o—
“What the hell was that? Something just went BANG on the top of the Jag. Really, really loud.”
Elena clicked off the recorder on her mobile. She was scared, but a noise like that—and now scrabbling sounds on the roof…
She had to get out of the car as fast as possible.
2
Elena burst out of the backseat of the Jaguar and ran a little way from the car before turning to see what had fallen on top of it.
What had fallen was Matt. He was in the process of struggling to get up off his back.
“Matt—oh, my God! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Elena cried at the same time as Matt was shouting in tones of anguish:
“Elena—oh, my God! Is the Jag all right? Is it hurt?”
“Matt, are you crazy? Did you hit your head?”
“Are there any scratches? Does the moonroof still work?”
“No scratches. The moonroof is fine.” Elena had no idea if the moonroof worked, b
ut she realized that Matt was raving, off his head. He was trying to get down without getting any mud on the Jag, but he was handicapped since his legs and feet were covered with mud. Getting off of the car without using his feet was proving difficult.
Meanwhile, Elena was looking around. She herself had once fallen from the sky, yes, but she had been dead for six months first and had arrived naked, and Matt fulfilled neither requirement. She had a more prosaic explanation in mind.
And there it was, lounging against a yellowwood tree and eyeing the scene with a very slight, wicked smile.
Damon.
He was compact; not as tall as Stefan, but with an indefinable aura of menace that more than made up for it. He was as immaculately dressed as always: black Armani jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket, and black boots, which all went with his carelessly windblown dark hair and his black eyes.
Right now, he made Elena acutely aware that she was wearing a long white nightgown that she had brought with the idea that she could change her clothes underneath it if necessary while they were camping. The problem was that she usually did this just at dawn, and today writing in her diary had distracted her. And all at once the nightgown wasn’t the correct attire for an early-morning fight with Damon. It wasn’t sheer, being more akin to flannel than to nylon, but it was lacy, especially around the neck. Lace around a pretty neck to a vampire—as Damon had told her—was like a waving red cloak in front of a raging bull.
Elena crossed her arms over her chest. She also tried to make sure that her aura was pulled in decorously.
“You look like Wendy,” Damon said, and his smile was wicked, flashing, and definitely appreciative. He cocked his head to the side coaxingly.
Elena refused to be coaxed. “Wendy who?” she said, and at just that moment remembered the last name of the young girl in Peter Pan, and winced inwardly. Elena had always been good at repartee of this kind. The problem was that Damon was better.
“Why, Wendy…Darling,” Damon said, and his voice was a caress.
Elena felt an inward shiver. Damon had promised not to Influence her—to use his telepathic powers to cloud or manipulate her mind. But sometimes it felt as if he got awfully close to the line. Yes, it was definitely Damon’s fault, Elena thought. She didn’t have any feelings for him that were—well, that were anything other than sisterly. But Damon never gave up, no matter how many times she rejected him.
Behind Elena was a thump and squelch that undoubtedly meant Matt had finally gotten off the roof of the Jag. He jumped into the fray immediately.
“Don’t call Elena, Elena darling!” he shouted, continuing as he turned to Elena, “Wendy’s probably the name of his latest little girlfriend. And—and—and do you know what he did? How he woke me up this morning?” Matt was quivering with indignation.
“He picked you up and threw you on top of the car?” Elena hazarded. She talked over her shoulder to Matt because there was a faint morning breeze that tended to mold her nightgown to her body. She didn’t want Damon behind her just now.
“No! I mean, yes! No and yes! But—when he did, he didn’t even bother to use his hands! He just went like this”—Matt waved an arm—“and first I got dropped into a mud hole and next thing I know I got dropped on the Jag. It could have broken the moonroof—or me! And now I’m all muddy,” Matt added, examining himself with disgust, as if it had only just occurred to him.
Damon spoke up. “And why did I pick you up and put you down again? What were you actually doing at the time when I put some distance between us?”
Matt flushed to the roots of his fair hair. His normally tranquil blue eyes were blazing.
“I was holding a stick,” he said defiantly.
“A stick. A stick like the kind you find along the roadside? That kind of stick?”
“I did pick it up along the roadside, yes!” Still defiant.
“But then something strange seems to have happened to it.” From nowhere that Elena could see, Damon suddenly produced a very long, and very sturdy-looking stake, with one end that had been whittled to an extremely sharp point. It had definitely been carved from hardwood: oak from the look of it.
While Damon was examining his “stick” from all sides with a look of acute bafflement, Elena turned on a sputtering Matt.
“Matt!” she said reproachfully. This was definitely a low point in the cold war between the two boys.
“I just thought,” Matt went on stubbornly, “that it might be a good idea. Since I’m sleeping outdoors at night and a…another vampire might come along.”
Elena had already turned again and was making appeasing noises at Damon when Matt burst out afresh.
“Tell her how you actually woke me up!” he said explosively. Then, without giving Damon a chance to say anything, he continued, “I was just opening my eyes when he dropped this on me!” Matt squelched over to Elena, holding something up. Elena, truly at a loss, took it from him, turning it over. It seemed to be a pencil stub, but it was discolored dark reddish-brown.
“He dropped that on me and said ‘scratch off two,’” Matt said. “He’d killed two people—and he was bragging about it!”
Elena suddenly didn’t want to be holding the pencil anymore. “Damon!” she said in a cry of real anguish, as she tried to make something out of his no-expression expression. “Damon—you didn’t—not really—”
“Don’t beg him, Elena. The thing we’ve got to do—”
“If anybody would let me get a word in,” Damon said, now sounding truly exasperated, “I might mention that before I could explain about the pencil someone attempted to stake me on the spot, even before getting out of his sleeping bag. And what I was going to say next was that they weren’t people. They were vampires, thugs, hired muscle—but these were possessed by Shinichi’s malach. And they were on our trail. They’d gotten as far as Warren, Kentucky, probably by asking questions about the car. We’re definitely going to have to get rid of it.”
“No!” Matt shouted defensively. “This car—this car means something to Stefan and Elena.”
“This car means something to you,” Damon corrected. “And I might point out that I had to leave my Ferrari in a creek just so we could take you on this little expedition.”
Elena held up her hand. She didn’t want to hear any more. She did have feelings for the car. It was big and brilliantly red and flashy and buoyant—and it expressed how she and Stefan had been feeling on the day that he bought it for her, celebrating the start of their new life together. Just looking at it made her remember the day, and the weight of Stefan’s arm around her shoulder and the way he’d looked down at her, when she’d looked up at him—his green eyes sparkling with mischief and the joy of getting her something she really wanted.
To Elena’s embarrassment and fury, she found that she was shaking slightly, and that her own eyes were full of tears.
“You see,” Matt said, glaring at Damon. “Now you’re making her cry.”
“I am? I’m not the one who mentioned my dear departed younger brother,” Damon said urbanely.
“Just stop it! Right now! Both of you,” Elena shouted, trying to find her composure. “And I don’t want this pencil, if you don’t mind,” she added, holding it at arm’s length.
When Damon took it, Elena wiped her hands on her nightgown, feeling vaguely light-headed. She shivered, thinking of the vampires on their trail.
And then, suddenly, as she swayed, there was a warm, strong arm around her and Damon’s voice beside her saying, “What she needs is some fresh air, and I’m going to give it to her.”
Abruptly Elena was weightless and she was in Damon’s arms and they were going higher.
“Damon, could you please put me down?”
“Right now, darling? It’s quite a distance…”
Elena continued to remonstrate with Damon, but she could tell that he had tuned her out. And the cool morning air was clearing her head a bit, although it also made her shake.
She tried to st
op the shivering, but couldn’t help it. Damon glanced down at her and to her surprise, looking completely serious, began to make motions as if to take his jacket off. Elena hastily said, “No, no—you just drive—fly, I mean, and I’ll hang on.”
“And watch for low-going seagulls,” Damon said solemnly, but with a quirk at the side of his mouth. Elena had to turn her face away because she was in danger of laughing.
“So, just when did you learn you could pick people up and drop them on cars?” she inquired.
“Oh, just recently. It was like flying: a challenge. And you know I like challenges.”
He was looking down at her with mischief in his eyes, those black on black eyes with such long lashes that they were wasted on a boy. Elena felt as light as if she were dandelion fluff, but also a little light-headed, almost tipsy.
She was much warmer now, because—she realized—Damon had enfolded her in his aura, which was warm. Not just in temperature, either, but warm with a heady, almost drunken appreciation, as he took her in, her eyes and her face and her hair floating weightlessly in a cloud of gold around her shoulders. Elena couldn’t help but blush, and she almost heard his thought, that blushing suited her very well, pale pink against her fair complexion.
And just as blushing was an involuntary physical response to his warmth and appreciation, Elena felt an involuntary emotional response—of thankfulness for what he had done, of gratitude for his appreciation, and of unintentional appreciation of Damon himself. He had saved her life tonight, if she knew anything about vampires possessed by Shinichi’s malach, vampires who were thugs to begin with. She couldn’t even imagine what such creatures would do to her, and she didn’t want to. She could only be glad that Damon had been clever enough and, yes, ruthless enough to take care of them before they got to her.
And she would have to be blind and just plain stupid not to appreciate the fact that Damon was gorgeous. After having died twice, this fact did not affect her as it would most other girls, but it was still a fact, whether Damon was pensive or giving one of those rare genuine smiles that he seemed to have only for Elena.
