The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unseen

by L. J. Smith

  The world swung dizzyingly, and he clutched at her for balance. The thought of Elena dying was like an endless fall into a dark void. Elena had never been safe, never would be, no matter how many Old Ones he killed.

  “There’s nothing you could have done, Stefan,” Elena said calmly, steadying him. She glanced around the room at all of her worried friends. Her eyes landed on the stranger—Jack—who had gotten her out of the car after the crash and brought her home. “It all happened so fast.”

  “Thank you for helping,” Stefan said to Jack. Jack nodded pleasantly from his seat on the couch. He seemed to be taking everything in, his dark eyes flicking over the whole group with interest—maybe too much interest. He hadn’t called the police, hadn’t taken Elena to the hospital; he had just brought her home. Jack was an outsider; what did he think was going on?

  “The important thing is to make sure that Damon’s all right.” Elena let go of Stefan and sat down beside Jack on the couch, closing her eyes with a little frown. Stefan knew she was reaching for her bond with his brother. He did his best to push down the jealousy that threatened to break the surface. Elena loved him; he was the one she’d chosen. But it was hard to accept the fact that she and Damon shared something that he couldn’t really understand. “Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t feel like he’s in danger now,” Elena said after a moment.

  Stefan breathed a sigh of relief, realizing belatedly that Jack must think they were crazy. But his gaze remained polite and attentive.

  Meredith came back in from the kitchen with a washcloth, brushing past Bonnie and Matt, and sat down between Jack and Elena to dab carefully at the blood on Elena’s forehead. “It looks like the cut’s all healed up,” she said. “And your pupils are normal, so you’re probably not concussed anymore.”

  “Score one for the amazing properties of vampire blood,” Elena said, smiling up at Stefan.

  Stefan flinched backward, feeling his eyes widen. Meredith frowned in surprise, and Bonnie looked up from the floor by the couch where she was going through a bag of herbs, her mouth open in surprise. Matt had been worrying silently in the side armchair nearby, but now he unclenched his jaw to protest, “Elena …”

  “It’s okay,” Elena said, tipping her head back to smile reassuringly up at Stefan. “Jack knows all about us. He was following me because he wants to talk to us.”

  A chill ran through Stefan—all about them?—and he felt his eyes narrow suspiciously. In a second, he was looming over Jack. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he yanked him to his feet. “You were following her?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

  Jack held up his hands. “Wait,” he told Stefan, “I’m on your side. I helped Elena.”

  “I have to ask,” Meredith said dryly, folding the washcloth and dropping it on the coffee table. “If you weren’t the one who tampered with Elena’s car, how did you know it was going to blow up?”

  Jack chuckled and leaned back, pulling his shirt out of Stefan’s hands. “I like you,” he told Meredith. “I bet your dad’s really proud of you.”

  Before Meredith could snap a reply—after all, Stefan thought, it was a patronizing thing to say—Jack raised his hands and crooked his pinkie fingers together, balling his other fingers into fists and bringing his thumbs together above them to make a triangle.

  The sign meant nothing to Stefan, but Meredith gasped. “You’re a hunter,” she said, in a far less confrontational voice. “You know my father?”

  Jack smiled. “Not personally, no. He doesn’t have contact with hunters anymore; I guess you know that. But ’Nando Sulez is a legend. It’s an honor to meet his daughter.”

  The hard line of Meredith’s mouth softened in surprise, and Stefan backed off a little, still suspicious. “The fact that you’re a vampire hunter hardly gives me a reason to trust you,” he said. Elena reached a hand out to touch his leg, her thumb running comfortingly across his calf.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’ve looked at Jack’s aura. He’s good.”

  Sighing, Stefan thought about all the ways that someone could be a good person and still want to kill vampires. Still, he had to trust Elena: Her instincts about people had always been sound, even before her Guardian Powers were awakened. “You haven’t answered the question,” he said to Jack, keeping his voice polite. “How did you know the car was going to explode?”

  “My team—there are quite a few of us in town now—we know how powerful Elena’s blood is, that it’s the only real threat to the Old Ones.” Jack’s eyes flicked around the group. “When we realized that Solomon was headed for Dalcrest, we assumed he was coming to eliminate Elena. And when I saw Elena’s car crash, I felt sure that Solomon was involved. It seemed smartest for her to get away from the car.”

  “Wait a second. Who is Solomon?” Bonnie asked. Elena’s white cat, Sammy, had stretched out on his back in her lap. Bonnie rubbed his belly without looking down at him, her fingers twining through his fur affectionately.

  “Solomon’s an Old One,” Jack said heavily. “Maybe the last of the Old Ones.”

  Stefan’s heart sank. Elena had been right; there was always danger. How naive of him to think that, just because they’d killed all the Old Ones they could track, there weren’t others tracking them. And this one must know about Elena’s secret weakness, if he had tried to kill her with a car accident. Elena was frowning worriedly, obviously having realized the same thing.

  “I think I know a spell that’ll help protect your next car,” Bonnie said, her jaw stubbornly set. “I don’t know how well it’ll defend against deliberate attacks, though. I’ll do some research.”

  Meredith took Elena’s hand. “Hey, we’ve killed Old Ones before,” she said reassuringly.

  Stefan felt a surge of affection for Elena’s friends: stepping up immediately, ready to protect her.

  Jack gave a short laugh. “You’ve never killed one like Solomon,” he said.

  Stefan felt his fists clench. “You’re surprisingly well informed,” he snapped at the newcomer. “Who told you about Elena’s blood?”

  “We keep our ears close to the ground,” Jack said. “When Old Ones started turning up dead and we figured out that blood had killed them, we were able to put that together with rumors about a new Guardian on the scene. Once we knew you existed, Elena, it wasn’t hard to find you.” Stefan, already tense, felt his canine teeth sharpening. He turned his back to the others and breathed deeply, gripping tight to the chair beside him, and, slowly, his teeth slipped back to normal.

  “What’s different about Solomon?” Elena was asking behind him. “Meredith is right—we’ve fought other Old Ones before. Klaus, Celine, Davos. They were all cunning and ruthless and terribly strong. They had to be, to survive as long as they did.” Elena’s voice was steady, but Stefan noticed the flash of panic in her deep blue eyes, the pink flush of her cheeks.

  Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “We’ve been tracking Solomon for years. I’ve never even seen him, just evidence that he’s been somewhere. Most of the Old Ones, they’re flashy. They want hunters to see how powerful they are, to show that they’re not afraid of us. Solomon, though, he keeps to himself.” Jack spread his fingers wide. “He can get anywhere, do what he wants, and, by the time we figure where he was, he’s long gone. He has more power than you can imagine, and he’s always a few steps ahead of us.” He paused. “We think Solomon won’t stop until he’s killed Elena.”

  Stefan automatically moved closer to Elena. “He’s not the first one to try, and I’m still standing,” she said, looking pale but stubborn.

  “I want to help protect you,” Jack said intently, his eyes locking with Elena’s. “It’s been my mission for so long to bring Solomon down. But I’ve never gotten close. I think if we band together”—he glanced at the others again—“we might have a shot at defeating him. Meredith, I know you haven’t known many hunters outside your family. You’ve done so much on your own, and with Stefan—but you could do e
ven more with a team of hunters backing you up.”

  “I had another hunter I worked with for a while. Samantha,” Meredith said. “But she died. Vampires killed her.” Her face seemed impassive, but Stefan had known Meredith long enough to notice the strain at the corners of her mouth when she thought of Samantha. There was a longing there, he knew. Like werewolves, hunters did best in a pack. Elena bumped her knee comfortingly against Meredith’s.

  “These rumors,” Stefan asked, “how widespread are they? Even if we manage to kill Solomon, will there be other Old Ones coming after Elena? Should we be running instead of fighting?” He reached for Elena’s hand, his fingers tightening protectively over hers.

  Elena shook her head, squeezing his hand in return. “We can’t run forever, Stefan,” she murmured.

  Jack interrupted, his voice brisk. “Like I said, I think Solomon is the last. I’ve been hunting all my life, and there aren’t any other Old Ones I know of, not now that you”—he nodded to Stefan and Meredith—“have killed so many. So, are you with me?”

  Matt, who’d been following the conversation in silence, gave a quick jerk of a nod. “Anything we can do against Solomon,” he said, like a pledge. “We have to stop him before it all begins again.”

  “We can do this, Stefan,” Meredith said, her gray eyes shining. “We’ve already tracked down and killed three Old Ones. If Solomon’s coming to us, that just makes it more convenient.” She grinned. “We won’t have to travel.”

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Stefan thought carefully. “If hunting Solomon gets too dangerous for Elena, she and I will leave town,” he told Jack. “Her safety is the most important thing.” Jack nodded solemnly.

  “We’ll work as a team,” Stefan went on slowly, “like we always do. Bonnie and Alaric can use magic—Bonnie, maybe you can ask Mrs. Flowers what she knows about divination for evil creatures?” Bonnie nodded at the mention of her elderly mentor back in Fell’s Church. “Elena, keep your Guardian Powers on alert. If there’s an Old One near Dalcrest, there ought to be some signs of evil you can pick up on.” He let go of Elena and began to pace the room, his steps quickening as he thought. “Jack, we should get together with your team, figure out how we can best work together.”

  He crossed to the closet and pulled out his hunter’s bag, trying to think what they would need. More vervain for Meredith’s weapons, to keep Solomon and any other vampires he might have with him from clouding the humans’ minds. Stakes of white ash. Iron.

  He unzipped the bag, and for a moment his mind stopped, unable to process what he was seeing. There was a fine dust all over his weapons. Wood dust, he realized, soft under his hands except for a few small splinters. Something cut into his palm and he pulled it back quickly, wincing. It was a tiny shard of metal. There was an ache in his gums as his canines extended slowly, throbbing in time with his beating heart, and he realized that he was smelling blood. Elena’s blood.

  “My stave,” he said, slowly. “It’s—it’s been destroyed.”

  He could hear his friends exclaiming, getting to their feet, Sammy meowing in complaint as Bonnie unceremoniously dumped him off her lap. They were crowding behind him, all but Jack, who was standing a little away from the rest of the group. Elena touched Stefan’s arm gently. But his gaze was riveted on the pulverized remains of his best weapon against the Old Ones. Nothing else had been touched.

  “He came right in,” Stefan said, amazed. “Without being invited. All the safeguards and charms we have on this apartment, and somehow he knew where our only real weapon against him was hidden and came straight to it.” He finally dragged his gaze away from the remains of his stave, and his eyes met Jack’s. They were dark and full of what looked like pity.

  “You see what I mean about Solomon,” the hunter said softly. “He broke through all your protective charms like they were tissue paper and disappeared without a trace. This is what we’re up against. This is what we have to fight.” His voice grew somber. “This was a warning.”

  #TVD11WithoutaTrace

  Matt was late meeting Jasmine. When he jogged around the corner, she was standing outside the little vintage movie theater, her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the chill of the late spring night.

  A fierce, protective happiness lit up inside Matt at the sight of Jasmine. She glanced at her watch, clearly a little irritated—she didn’t get much time off from her residency at the hospital—but she wouldn’t be instinctively worried by Matt’s lateness. Jasmine didn’t automatically assume horrible things had happened. Because they never did, not to her.

  Matt tried to shove aside the thoughts of Elena in danger, of Stefan’s face that afternoon as he had gazed down at the remains of his stave. Now he was here, with Jasmine, in the normal world.

  “Hey,” he said, halting in front of her, panting a little. “I’m really sorry.”

  Jasmine crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. “Monster,” she said sweetly. “The only way you can make it up to me is by buying me a very large popcorn and getting lots of fake butter.”

  As they waited in line at the concession stand, Matt wrapped his arms around Jasmine’s shoulders, and she reached up to twine the fingers of her hand with his. “So what held you up?” she asked. “It’s not like you to be late.” Her big brown eyes fixed on his expectantly.

  Matt froze. He hadn’t thought about what to tell her. His silence was long enough that Jasmine’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  “Elena was in a car accident,” he blurted, not lying, but not telling the whole truth.

  Jasmine gasped, pressing her free hand against her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said. “Is she okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s fine, but she got a little banged up,” Matt said, and then hurriedly corrected himself, remembering how Stefan’s blood had healed Elena. Jasmine was a doctor; she would want to see Elena’s injuries. “I mean, she’s okay, but her car got pretty banged up. She hit a telephone pole.”

  They ordered popcorn and sodas and headed into the theater.

  “That’s terrifying. How did she manage to hit a telephone pole?” Jasmine asked as they settled into their seats, her hand still in his. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait, was she on the phone? I told her, driving while using a phone is just as dangerous as driving drunk.”

  “No, I don’t think she was on the phone,” Matt said, although he wasn’t sure.

  “Well, what happened, then?” Jasmine asked again. Matt could feel himself stiffening and rolled his neck to let go of the tension building up in him. It wasn’t Jasmine’s fault he didn’t know what to tell her about Elena’s accident; these were perfectly natural questions.

  “Elena wasn’t drinking, was she?” Jasmine asked him, her forehead crinkling.

  “No! God!” Matt said. “There’s nothing to tell. It was just a normal accident, and we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” A woman in the row ahead turned to look at them, and Matt realized his voice had risen.

  “What do you mean you’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again?” Jasmine asked in a low, persistent voice.

  For one crazy moment, Matt wondered if maybe he could tell Jasmine the truth. She wouldn’t believe him at first—no one would. But he guessed she’d probably noticed things that didn’t quite add up about them in the past. And she cared about all his friends. If he shared some of the worries that weighed him down, maybe Jasmine could help him bear them.

  Something in him immediately recoiled from the idea. It was selfish of him to even consider it. Jasmine existed outside of all the violence and fear that had been Matt’s life ever since high school, ever since the Salvatore brothers had first come to Fell’s Church. She reminded Matt of the way he’d been before this all started.

  Everything they had suffered—Elena’s death, Klaus’s attacks, hunting the Old Ones—had marked Matt and all his friends. Even Bonnie, the sweetest of them, had something hard-edged and fierce about her now. Th
is new toughness had saved their lives more than once. But he didn’t want Jasmine to have to change like that.

  “I don’t know,” he told her. “I don’t know why I said that. It was an accident.”

  Jasmine turned to look carefully into his face, then frowned, clearly aware that he was hiding something. She’d let go of his hand, Matt realized, and his fingers felt cold without hers.

  Matt clenched his jaw, swallowing his urge to beg her forgiveness, tell her everything. But then he thought of what could happen. Chloe had died because of her involvement in the mess of vampires and werewolves, warriors and demons that Matt’s life had become. Even if Jasmine resented him for it, he would never tell her. He would keep her safe, no matter what.

  “Duck!” Bonnie shouted wildly, scrunching down as far as she could in the passenger seat of the car.

  “I can’t duck; I’m driving,” Zander said calmly. “Anyway, your parents aren’t going to see us.”

  Bonnie sat up and turned in her seat to look back at her parents’ house. There was no car in the drive; they must be out. “I just feel guilty, coming to Fell’s Church and not letting them know,” she said.

  “You’re on a very important mission,” Zander told her. “Anyway, we’re having dinner with them next week.”

  “I know,” Bonnie said. “I just hope Mrs. Flowers has some ideas about how to search for Solomon. Elena’s Powers aren’t picking up anything.” The elderly, powerful witch had taught Bonnie a lot of what she knew.

  “Hmm,” Zander responded, taking a left toward Mrs. Flowers’s house. Bonnie’s eyes drifted to his arm muscles flexing beneath his golden-tanned skin. Werewolves were naturally strong, of course, but ever since Zander and a couple of his Packmates had started a landscaping business after college, he’d only gotten buffer. She sighed appreciatively.

  “There’s a car in Mrs. Flowers’s drive,” Zander said curiously as they pulled up. Bonnie blinked; there was a car, a shiny little blue Honda. That was strange. Mrs. Flowers was basically a recluse and, anyway, she had known Bonnie and Zander were coming.