The Vampire Diaries #12: Unspoken (The Salvation #2)

Unspoken

Author: L.J. Smith

Category: Fantasy , Young Adult

Series: The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation

Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation #2)

An epic battle looms - one that will not only determine Elena's own fate, but that of her entire world.

Since her true love Stefan was staked through the heart, everything has changed for Elena.

Stefan was hunted down by a scientist who has created a new race of genetically-engineered vampires to take over the paranormal world.

Intent on eliminating all the natural vampires left on earth, Damon is the scientist's next target.

It's a race against time to find the kryptonite of these strange creatures, before they hurt everyone Elena loves.


转载请保留当前帖子的链接：https://www.beimeilife.com/thread-36419-1-1.html 谢谢

Chapter 34

“But the Eiffel Tower closes at eleven, it says so right on the sign,” Elena objected, laughing. “If you didn’t compel anyone, how did you get us up here so late?”

“As well as being incredibly charming and handsome, I am also extremely wealthy,” Damon told her dryly. “Any human could have spread a few euros around. You said you wanted to come up here.”

“I’m not complaining,” Elena told him. She leaned against the railing of the observation deck, taking in the lights of Paris below them. Damon grinned at her.

“I was here in Paris when it was being built for the Exposition Universelle, you know,” he said. “Hideous. Completely ruined the skyline. A bunch of artists drew up a petition against it. They called the Tower a useless monstrosity, and a truly tragic street lamp.”

“Oh, you’re just teasing me,” Elena said, swatting at him.

“It’s true,” Damon said. “They said it in French, of course. Ce lampadaire véritablement tragique.”

Elena snorted and turned back to gaze over the city. Damon leaned beside her.

“It is rather pretty up here, of course,” he said. “It’s one of the few spots in Paris from which you can’t see the Eiffel Tower.”

Despite herself, Elena giggled, and Damon laughed along with her. The golden lights of the city below reflected in her lapis lazuli blue eyes. She was so eager to take everything in, to get all the pleasure Paris had to give her.

Damon looked out over the skyline. His eyes caught on the Arc de Triomphe. Elena would probably like to see that up close, too. He was going to show her the whole world.

A jarring wave of pain came through their bond and Damon flinched. Beside him, Elena suddenly gagged and doubled over.

“Are you all right?” Damon asked, steadying her.

Elena shook her head, her face paper-white. She was clutching her stomach, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. The pain, which Damon had instinctively dampened, was still flowing through the bond. Elena was in agony.

“Sit down,” Damon said, guiding her to a bench. Elena started gasping for breath. Doctor, he thought. Hospitals. Appendicitis? It would be faster to take her in his arms and run than to call an ambulance. Everything was in sharp focus, his mind speeding. “We need to get you down,” he said, keeping his voice calm.

From behind them came the sound of a quiet step, and Damon whipped around. He had been sure they were alone.

The step belonged to a blonde woman, or something that chose to look like a woman. She was neatly dressed in a navy blue suit and perfectly coiffed. Her face was stern and, as she met Damon’s eyes, her own were cold. The Guardian who had bound them together. Mylea.

Something in him hardened into suspicion and then into certainty. He lunged for her, but his hand stopped, suspended in air, a few inches from her.

Her voice was as cold as ice. “Damon Salvatore,” she said formally. “We find you in violation of your oath. As you murdered Henrik Goetsch, also called Jack Daltry, in Zurich, Elena Gilbert’s life is now forfeit.”

Elena made a choking sound, and Damon grabbed her hand. “Wait,” he said, as Mylea began to turn away. The Guardian stopped and looked at him. “Jack was a vampire,” he said. “He wasn’t a human. He wasn’t covered by my oath.”

Mylea gave a click of her tongue, as if irritated by some minor error. “Henrik Goetsch chose to turn himself into a monstrosity. He was a human who imitated the traits of a vampire, but he never died. His human life did not end until you murdered him.”

Elena choked again, her free hand pawing at her throat. Her nose began to bleed, a thin red trickle.

“No,” Damon said, his voice raising frantically. “He was a vampire. We didn’t know…”

Mylea arched an eyebrow. “There are no loopholes in the law of the Guardians.” And with that, she turned on her heel, took one step forward and was gone, blinked into nothingness.

Elena moaned and slid off the bench, onto the ground. Dropping to his knees beside her, Damon pulled her close. The blood was flowing faster, smearing across her lips and chin.

“It’s all right, princess,” Damon said, stroking her hair, trying to ease Elena’s suffering. “I won’t let them have you. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

His mind began to buzz with rage. He wasn’t going to let Elena die, not because of him. No matter what he had to do, he was going to save her.

Chapter 33

Still in her bridesmaid’s gown, Elena turned onto Maple Street and stopped the car in front of her childhood home. Her house, she reminded herself. Stefan had bought it for her.

Stefan. She curled into herself for a moment, pressing her forehead against the cool window as she looked at the house.

She had always intended to marry Stefan. She had felt like she was already married to him really, bonded together in all the ways that mattered. But she’d wanted the celebration, too. She’d thought about it idly: herself in an elegantly simple, flowing gown, her baby sister Margaret in the periwinkle-blue that brought out her eyes. Stefan, handsome and strong, his often melancholy eyes glowing with joy.

She’d counted on that wedding. But when you knew you had forever, there wasn’t a lot of impetus to do everything right away.

Then Stefan had died, and forever was over.

Elena straightened up and wiped at her eyes with both hands. They’d gotten their vengeance, she and Damon. They killed Stefan’s murderer. Jack had died in terrible pain, and at their hands.

It didn’t make any difference, though, not to the way Elena felt. They’d come home from Zurich, and the wound left by Stefan’s death was still raw inside her, a constant gnawing ache. After they’d killed Jack, she’d expected to feel better, to feel like she’d given Stefan something. But it hadn’t helped.

She’d never gotten to say good-bye to Stefan. Bonnie had tried so hard, but they hadn’t been able to find him.

And today, standing with the bridesmaids at Bonnie’s wedding, listening to the minister, she’d suddenly been flooded with thoughts of Damon. Damon, who’d looked up at her from the ground in that Swiss courtyard, blood streaming from his wounds, and told her he loved her. Damon, with whom she’d always had a special bond, even before the Guardians had made it literal. Gorgeous, sardonic, clever Damon.

Stefan’s brother.

She couldn’t love him back. Not the way he wanted her to, the way that maybe she wanted to, as well. Not while Stefan was still waiting for her, somewhere out of reach.

She sat perfectly still in the driver’s seat for a minute, just staring at the house where she’d grown up.

When she thought of home, her true home, it wasn’t the apartment she and Stefan had lived in together, where Damon now slept on the couch. It was here, the house she’d lived in for the first part of her life, until after the Salvatore brothers had come to Fell’s Church and everything had changed.

When this is over, we’re going to go everywhere, she remembered Stefan saying. I’ll show you all the places I’ve been, and we’ll find new parts of the world together. But we’ll have your house, the place you grew up in, to come home to. We’ll have a home together.

She had cried then, full of joy and tenderness, and now her eyes filled with tears again. It was all such a waste.

They’d never had a chance to come here together, not as the house’s owners. She didn’t know if she was going to keep the house now, or sell it. Maybe she would lock it up and leave it just the way it was. Let it be drowned in cobwebs, like Miss Havisham’s wedding cake.

But she had needed to come here once. It would be, somehow, rude and wrong to not accept Stefan’s last gift.

Damon had offered to come with her. But she couldn’t bring him on her first visit to the home Stefan had bought for them both. This was something she had to do alone.

If she was ever going to move forward, she had to face the future she and Stefan would have had together. She had to let it go.

Elena got out of the car and walked quickly across the lawn, her heels leaving little holes in the grass. She passed the big quince tree and climbed the steps to the front porch.

The key turned in the lock, but when Elena flicked the light switch, nothing happened. Of course, the electricity must have been turned off. It had been months. That would be the first thing she’d have to get settled.

Pausing for a moment, she realized that she had decided: This was her house. She was keeping it.

Aunt Judith, Robert, and Margaret had taken the furniture with them to their new apartment in Richmond, but there was a candle on the window ledge by the front door.

She lit the candle with the matches she found beside it and tucked the matches into the tiny purse, matching her bridesmaid’s dress, which she carried over one shoulder.

The flickering flame of the candle sent shadows sliding wildly across the walls. Climbing the stairs, Elena automatically skipped over the squeaky fifth step. She remembered skipping the same step when she had snuck out at night to cruise the quiet, darkened streets of Fell’s Church in Meredith’s car, when they were high school juniors.

She could still see the unfaded patches of wallpaper where picture frames had hung. She could imagine each in her mind’s eye: her parents, Margaret as a baby, prom, Aunt Judith and Robert’s wedding, Stefan and Elena, their arms around each other.

Her heart ached. They should have come here together.

At the end of the upstairs hall was the door to her old bedroom. Part of Elena didn’t even want to go in. She remembered lying there with Stefan, how he would speed away when Aunt Judith approached so she wouldn’t get into trouble. It had been a more innocent time.

There were also the windows she’d peered out every morning, where she’d seen Stefan striding across the lawn. The secret space beneath her closet floor where she had hidden her diary. A hundred slumber parties, when she and Meredith and Bonnie, and Caroline, who had been her friend then, had giggled and shared secrets, a score of evenings before high school dances when they’d done their makeup together and talked about boys.

Memories of Damon landing on her bedroom window as a crow, more than once. He’d laid beside her on the bed, after escaping the Dark Dimension, when she’d been so happy just to realize that he was still alive.

Ready for a flood of memories, Elena turned the knob and went inside.

“Elena,” the voice was soft but unmistakable, full of love and longing.

“Stefan,” she said, and dropped the candle. The flame went out and left her in total darkness.

Strong arms circled her, and Elena let herself fall into them. She was surrounded by the familiar smell that meant Stefan—something green and growing, and just a touch of exotic spice. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Stefan,” she sobbed, and buried her head in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. He was shaking, crying, too, a gentle hand running through her hair.

“You’re not really here,” she whispered, clutching his strong, well-remembered arms, reaching up to touch his face.

And even though she had just been thinking about how Damon had been dead and returned and come back to her alive again, she knew that what she said was true. Stefan was solid in her arms, but no matter how hard she clutched at him, something in her, something she could feel was true told her: No. Not yours. Not anymore.

Stefan let out a long breath, and he held her tightly against him for one more moment, and then he let her go. “No,” he said softly, sorrowfully. “I’m only visiting, and we don’t have long.”

Elena knelt and felt around on the floor for the candle. When her hands finally closed around it, she stood and dug the matches out of her purse to relight the flame.

When the candle was lit once more, she could see Stefan. He was there, watching her with his leaf-green eyes. She’d never thought she’d see them again.

“We tried,” she said, gasping. It seemed important that he know this. “Bonnie and I, we tried to reach you. And you weren’t anywhere. Do you mean to tell me that all I had to do was come here?”

Stefan had been watching her gravely, his eyes sad, his perfect mouth with its little sensual curve, turned down. “I guess so,” he said. “Or rather, when you were ready to come here, I could, too.”

Not wasting another moment, Elena stepped forward and caught him in a kiss. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, half-laughing, half-crying against his lips. “This—to see that you’re okay, that you’re not just… gone.”

Stefan pressed his lips against hers and Elena fell into the kiss, feeling his love and longing, the sorrow he felt at having left her and the joy that she had survived, that she was turning her face back toward the sun, finding pleasure in life again.

When they broke the kiss, he held her close. “I’m all right,” he said. “I’ve gone on, but it’s okay. I’ll always love you.” Elena gave a half-sob, reaching up to stroke his cheek, touch his hair, reassure herself that he was there.

Stefan caught her hand and kissed it. “Listen, Elena,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to stop because of me. You’re going to live forever, Elena, you have to live. You can’t pretend I’m coming back.”

Elena opened her mouth to speak, but Stefan shook his head. “If it’s Damon… We were all tangled up when I was alive, but now…” He shrugged. “He’s always understood parts of you that I didn’t, and he loves like he does everything else. With all he has.”

Elena shook her head. It felt wrong to think about this, talk about this, with Stefan in her arms. “I want you,” she said. “I didn’t stop loving you. I won’t.”

Stefan pulled her closer, dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “You don’t have to. But you don’t have to mourn me forever, either.”

He was already fading. She tried to hold onto him, but it was like holding onto a shadow. He lowered his mouth and kissed her one last time, sweet but barely there. “It’s up to you,” he told her. “But know I’m all right. And tell Damon I’m sorry for all the bad blood between us. We were brothers again, by the end.”

“I will, Stefan, I will.” Elena was sobbing freely, trying to hold onto Stefan as his image wavered, his voice getting softer.

“Live well, Elena. I’ll always love you.”

And then Stefan was gone.

Three hours later, Elena was back in Dalcrest. Dawn was breaking, and sleepy birds began chirping to each other in the trees as she let herself into the apartment.

Damon was standing by the windows in the living room, waiting for her. She stopped and stared at him, struck anew by how beautiful he was—fine boned and sleekly arrogant—and how different from classically profiled, noble-faced Stefan.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Elena realized she must look a mess, her gown stained with the dust of the uninhabited house, her eyes wild, her hair disheveled, her face streaked with tears.

“I’ve always loved you,” she said. “I won’t ever stop loving Stefan, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you are any less.”

For a moment, Damon’s eyes shone and a soft smile broke over his face.

But then he hesitated, and his gaze clouded over. Stefan. Like a shout, the word hung in the air between them. Elena knew that, somehow, loving her felt like more of a betrayal to him than it ever had when Stefan was alive.

“I saw Stefan,” she said. “Stefan’s ghost. He was in my house in Fell’s Church. He couldn’t stay long, but he was there.”

Damon sucked in a startled breath. For a moment, his expression was full of wonder and alarm, and then it went smooth and perfectly blank, the way it always did when Damon was concealing strong emotion.

“No,” Elena said sharply, and took a quick step across the living room to grab hold of Damon’s arm. “No, he was fine. He seemed… content. He wants us to be happy. He wants me to keep living, to go after what I want.” She tried to smile at Damon, although her face felt stiff and strange. “He had a message he wanted me to give you.”

Damon’s face softened. For a moment, he looked young, like the boy he’d been, who’d died on his brother’s sword so long ago. “He did?” he asked.

Elena nodded. “He said he was sorry about all the bad blood there’d been between you, and he wanted me to tell you that you were brothers again, by the end.”

Ducking his head, Damon smiled, a small, private smile that Elena had never seen before. And then he wiped that smile from his face, replacing it with his customary brilliant flash of teeth. “Well, I knew that, of course,” he said. “Just like Stefan, to show up as a ghost and state the obvious.”

Elena took his hand and tugged him toward the couch, coaxing him to sit beside her. “I guess I should have known what he told me, too.”

Damon went very still. “What did he tell you?”

Running her fingers across the back of his hand, tracing the long bones of his fingers, Elena said slowly, “He told me that, if what I wanted was… you… if I loved you… he’d be happy for me.”

Damon was staring very hard at the opposite wall, his dark eyes unreadable. “And is it?” he asked, sounding almost indifferent. “Am I what you want?”

“Oh, Damon, you know I’ve always loved you,” Elena said, her voice breaking. “Even when I wasn’t supposed to.”

Damon turned to her then, a new light dawning in his eyes, his mask of indifference breaking and letting hope shine through. Elena leaned toward him, sorrow and joy mixing together inside her, and their lips met.

His kiss was as soft as silk, but somehow demanding, too, and Elena opened to it. Between them, their bond flooded with emotion: love and joy, a sweet thrill of acceptance at last.

Yes, she thought, the joy conquering the sorrow just as, outside, the sun broke over the horizon. Yes. This is my future.

Chapter 32

Three weeks had passed since Damon and Elena killed Jack, far away in Switzerland. Since then, none of them had been able to take more than a second to focus on anything except preparing for Bonnie’s wedding. And now it was a beautiful day for the ceremony, Matt thought. They were all together, safe and whole.

The sky was blue and open, the only clouds above tiny and puffy white. Birds sang in the trees—the long trill of a warbler, the three short notes of a whippoorwill. Wild violets were blooming in the grass at their feet. Matt ran a finger around the inside of his collar, easing where it pressed against the bandage on his throat.

“Dude, if you forgot the ring, Zander’s going to kill you,” Spencer whispered to Jared beside him.

“Forget Zander, Shay will kill me first. She said I’d better learn to take a little responsibility,” Jared muttered back. “Anyway, I didn’t forget it, I just can’t find it.” He was digging through his pockets frantically, shaggy hair flopping over his forehead.

Matt resisted rolling his eyes. He was honored to be the only non-werewolf in Zander’s side of the wedding party. The werewolves were great guys for a pickup game of football or a night of barhopping, and amazing allies in a fight. For a formal occasion? Matt felt like he’d spent the last three weeks babysitting a pack of overgrown kids. The fun bachelor party had almost made up for the nightmarish tuxedo fittings, though.

“Try the inner breast pocket of your jacket,” he whispered to Jared.

Jared felt inside his jacket and immediately smiled, a big dimpled grin. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Loser,” Marcus whispered from his other side, and Jared snorted and smacked Marcus on the back of his head.

“Cut it out,” Matt whispered. The guys straightened up and stilled beside him as Zander came to join them, smiling nervously and shoving his pale blond hair out of his eyes.

A Celtic harp began to play, and the gathered audience rose to their feet.

Bonnie’s older sisters came down the path first, pretty and solemn-faced in rose pink. Then came Shay, Zander’s second-in-command, who smirked at Jared as she stepped into place beside the sisters. Meredith followed, tall, slim, and elegant, her head held high. Then Elena, her golden hair pulled back and a soft smile on her face.

The girls arranged themselves in a line in front of the minister and a hushed expectancy fell over the crowd.

They all stood and turned as Bonnie appeared, arm in arm with her beaming father. Her strapless dress was long and lacy, and her red hair shone in the sunlight. She didn’t wear a veil, but a circlet of white rosebuds, and she carried a bouquet of white roses in full bloom.

She looked like everything a bride was supposed to be, Matt thought: beautiful, excited, a little shy. Like a princess. Mostly, Bonnie looked happy.

She squeezed her father’s arm as they came up to the others, and he kissed her, let her go, and stepped back. Bonnie looked up at Zander and reached out to take his large hands in her smaller ones. He bent his head to look down at her and gave her the slow, sweet smile Matt had never seen him give to anyone but Bonnie.

Automatically, Matt glanced into the audience, looking for Jasmine, and found her seated a few rows back. Her sweet mouth curved in a private smile just for him. Something warm blossomed in Matt’s chest.

He’d miss Bonnie when she went to Colorado with Zander. But love was love was love, and, basking in the light of Jasmine’s sweet smile, he couldn’t wish for anything else for Bonnie. This, he knew, was what was going to make his friend happy.

The minister spread his arms in greeting, and the audience sat and settled. The wedding party turned their attention to him politely. Bonnie’s brown-eyed gaze was confident and steady, the sunlight making her porcelain skin glow.

“Dearly beloved…” the minister began.

Bonnie, always the baby of their group, was now so sure and poised that a flare of affection lit in Matt’s chest. He could see the skinny kid, the sassy teenager, the clear-eyed woman, all in the same person, and for a moment, he was just so grateful for her, for all of them. They’d all found someone, his little band of friends: Bonnie and Zander, Meredith and Alaric—even Elena would find her way back to Damon, he knew. And he had Jasmine.

Beloved…

As Damon sat in the front row of seats, watching the ceremony, it occurred to him that his little redbird really had grown up. She was looking lovely, too, her face tilted politely to the minister’s as she gave the appropriate responses: yes, she would have and hold, yes, she would love and honor. The overgrown werewolf boy beside her was clearly over the moon with joy, as he should be. Bonnie was too good for him.

Damon couldn’t help it as his attention drifted from little bridal Bonnie to his Elena, standing beside her. What was she thinking, his princess, behind her solemn and attentive facade? Was she wishing she and Stefan had gone through this ritual when they’d had the chance? Was she regretting all that she’d lost?

She’d loved his brother with her whole heart, and it would have been strange if she hadn’t thought of that now, mourned the life they’d lost as she watched Bonnie and Zander embarking on theirs.

Or… could Elena be thinking of him?

He probed carefully at their bond, but got only a general contentment, a warm joy at her friend’s happiness. If there was a certain wistfulness about her joy, it didn’t seem to center around anyone in particular. Not that she let Damon see, at least.

Elena had let him kiss her, in the car while they hunted Siobhan. More than that, she had drawn on his energy, charged her own Power. It had been more intimate than any of their kisses before, and he still felt an echo of that closeness.

He knew what that kiss had meant to him. The question was, what had it meant to Elena? They hadn’t talked about it. Since the night three weeks before when they’d killed Jack, they’d been cautious and polite with each other, circling each other warily in the confines of Elena’s apartment. Every once in a while, though, he’d felt the brush of her regard, turned to see Elena’s lapis lazuli eyes watching him thoughtfully and with affection.

Damon permitted himself, sometimes, to hope.

The minister said, with a smile, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” and Bonnie leaned up for Zander’s kiss, her face shining.

Damon stood with the rest as the bridal party went down the path, and then followed and joined them as waiters passed around champagne.

Bonnie’s father cleared his throat, holding his glass aloft. “My baby girl…” he began, tears in his eyes. Damon let his gaze drift around the circle of faces. Bonnie’s family was so ordinary—balding middle-management father, comfortably plump mother, two round-faced practical older sisters. His redbird was like a rare rose in a garden of dandelions.

“Like the cliché goes, I’m not losing a daughter, I’m gaining a son,” Bonnie’s father said, putting an awkward hand on Zander’s shoulder. Everyone smiled, and Damon felt a small stir of sentiment. At least they adored her, Bonnie’s plebian suburban family. They’d never quite comprehend how fiery and sweet and full of Power she was. But they loved her.

When Bonnie’s father finished his toast with a clumsy kiss on his daughter’s cheek, Jared raised his glass. Damon hid his smile with a sip of champagne. This ought to be amusing.

“Uh…” the shaggy-haired werewolf began. “When Zander started dating Bonnie, we all thought she was awesome, but we were, like, ‘Really?’ because she wasn’t, uh, the same kind of person we were.” The boy paused, and his eyes traveled slowly around the circle of attentive faces.

Damon could see the moment when he realized he was going to have to make this speech without using the words wolf, Pack, or Alpha. Without that, the whole lot of them were going to sound like a bunch of weirdly close-knit overgrown frat boys. Fair enough, really.

On the other side of the circle, Zander’s Beta girl—Shay, that was it—twitched, and Damon could tell she was longing to smack the boy over the head.

Jared stumbled over his words, stared down at his feet, his floppy hair falling over his eyes, and finally looked up, smiling, dimples creasing his cheeks, and launched into an anecdote about Bonnie and Zander together. There was a little more alcohol in the story, Damon thought, than Bonnie’s mother would have preferred, but his affection for them both shone through. Werewolf crisis averted.

Elena’s arm brushed his as she stepped up next to him, and they exchanged a look of perfect understanding, amusement flowing through the bond between them.

Letting his attention wander again, Damon fingered a small rounded package in his pocket.

When the toasts were over, he pulled Bonnie aside. Zander followed amiably, a glass of champagne in his hand, and Elena stayed near them, watching. The rest of the wedding guests were drifting toward the tent set up on the other side of the meadow, where a band was warming up on the dance floor.

“Congratulations,” Damon said formally. “I have a little something for you.” He handed Bonnie the small package, wrapped in black silk.

“But you already gave us a present,” Bonnie said, taken aback.

“I suppose so,” Damon said. Elena had ordered something from the registry from them both, he vaguely recalled—silver, perhaps, or some sort of kitchen appliance. These were the traditional gifts now, apparently. “But this is something for you.”

Looking intrigued, Bonnie slipped the silk away from her present. A glossy white stone shone in her hand, half the size of her palm, with glistening highlights of green and blue. In its top was deeply etched a rough representation of a wolf’s face.

“A moonstone,” Bonnie said, examining it. “They’re supposed to help keep the bond between lovers strong.” She looked touched, her eyes soft, as she ran her finger across the carving.

“It seemed appropriate. This particular one is quite old. I got it from an acquaintance in Zurich. Legend says that it gives its owner power over werewolves.” Damon couldn’t resist shooting a sly smile at Zander, but the wolf-boy only laughed.

“She’s got plenty of power over me already,” he said, and squeezed Bonnie’s hand.

“Oh, Damon,” Bonnie said, and, letting go of Zander, flung her arms around Damon’s neck.

Damon kissed her gently on the top of her head. Her red curls smelled as sweet as cherry candy. He hoped she’d be very happy.

“Behave yourself, wolf,” he said sternly, looking at Zander over Bonnie’s head. Zander tilted his head up in acknowledgment, his face open and guileless.

Elena came closer, and Damon let Bonnie go.

“Come on then, princess,” he said, holding out his hand to Elena. He nodded toward the dance floor, where the musicians had begun to play. “Let’s dance.”

Her arms around Alaric’s neck, Meredith swayed with him in time to the slow, romantic song. The cake had just been cut, Bonnie and Zander feeding each other as they laughed, a smudge of icing high on Zander’s cheek. The dance floor was emptier than it had been all night. Most of the guests were laughing and chattering as they ate. But Meredith didn’t want to be with everyone else, not even Elena, or Bonnie’s family, who she’d known for most of her life. Not now.

“Remember our wedding?” Alaric said softly, his hand firm against her back. Meredith nodded against Alaric’s shoulder. Theirs had been more formal, two hundred guests in a church instead of fifty in a meadow, but she had been as happy as Bonnie’s glowing face was right now.

“Bonnie caught my bouquet,” she remembered.

“Well, I guess that worked out, then.” Alaric grinned. He led her into a long, lazy twirl. “I hope they’re as happy as we are.”

She could smell their blood, all these guests, mixed in with the smells of hair gel and icing sugar. She’d need to go out to the woods and feed later tonight.

Alaric smoothed his hand down her back. He must have felt her stiffen. “You’re not a monster.” His heart beat steadily, a comforting sound. She pulled back a little and looked at him. Alaric’s skin was the golden tan he turned in the summer, darker freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. He looked at her with total confidence, his brown eyes warm and trusting. “You choose not to be a monster.”

He believed everything he said, Meredith knew. He was sure she wouldn’t fall, sure she could resist the call of human blood, keep her humanity. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder again.

“I’ll probably be like this forever,” she said. They’d found a poison to kill Jack, but in all his notes, there still hadn’t been any mention of a cure.

“We’ll find a way to fix this,” Alaric said, moving steadily in time to the music. “But even if we don’t, I’m still in. Till death do us part.”

Meredith laughed, a dry, almost painful laugh. “You’re the one who’s keeping me human. You think I’m so strong, but it’s all you.”

It was true, she thought, truer than Alaric would ever believe.

“When we cut the cake,” Alaric said. “And you fed me a piece, I looked at you, and I thought, Here. This is where I want to be forever.”

“I know,” Meredith said.

All she wanted was a human life with Alaric. Their little apartment, studying and talking, those discussions on any topic under the sun that fired them up and kept them debating late into the night. She wanted to wake up next to him and eat breakfast together, come home and kiss him hello and make dinner, go to bed together. Go on vacations. Have children. Grow older. Every day for the rest of their lives.

“I don’t want you to drink it,” she said suddenly to Alaric, and felt him tense in her arms. He knew what she was talking about. That bottle of shining effervescence, the water of Eternal Life and Youth.

She tried to put all the aching love she felt for him, for the normal human life they should have together, that sometimes felt so far out of reach. “I don’t want you to live forever. I don’t want either of us to. Till death do us part, like you said. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

Alaric ran his fingers lightly over her cheek, kissed her once, twice, soft brushes of his lips. “We’re going to find a cure,” he said, pulling her closer. “I promise.”

Bonnie kicked off her high-heeled shoes to walk in the wet grass of the meadow, hand in hand with Zander, her dearest friends around her. Elena and Damon, Meredith and Alaric, Matt and Jasmine, walking together, happy and tired. Shay, who had caught the bouquet, trailed behind, holding hands with Jared.

It was getting late, and the stars were shining brightly overhead.

“This has been the best wedding ever,” she said.

“Totally unbiased opinion there,” Matt said behind her, and everyone laughed.

Everyone she loved most had come to Bonnie’s wedding. When they’d slipped out of the tent, Mrs. Flowers had been deep in conversation with friendly, freckled Alysia, who’d worked with Bonnie to help her reach her full magical potential. Bonnie’s older sisters, Mary and Nora, shared a slice of cake at the same table, Bonnie’s baby nephew peacefully asleep in Nora’s lap.

The whole Pack had been there, and the High Wolf Council had come to give Zander their blessing. Rick, Marilise, and Poppy, whom Bonnie had practiced magic with in Chicago, had come. Friends of both Bonnie and Zander’s from college whom they hadn’t seen for ages. Sue Carson from high school. Bonnie’s parents had danced to Motown, and her Scottish grandmother had read Bonnie’s palm, promising her a long and happy married life.

Almost everyone she loved. Her heart ached a little for Stefan, who should have been with them, but she knew he would have rejoiced for her, too.

“We got married,” she told Zander, her voice full of awe.

“I know,” he said solemnly. “Crazy, huh?”

“Do you feel any different, Bonnie?” Elena asked, amused.

“Sort of,” Bonnie said, tipping her head back to look up at the stars. Her hair had come mostly out of its French braid and long strands tickled her shoulders. “Happier.”

“Me too,” Zander said softly.

There was a magnolia tree near them, its heavy waxy white blossoms hanging overhead, filling the air with their sweet, heady scent. Bonnie considered the tree for a moment. She reached for the Power inherent in the earth, wiggling her toes into the cold damp grass, feeling the soil beneath.

Every kind of life was connected. Everything in the universe had its own Power. If there was one truth Bonnie had learned, it was that. Cupping her hands into the shape of a magnolia blossom, she curled her toes against the soil, thought of the distant stars, and lifted.

On the tree branch above, a magnolia blossom slowly began to fill with light. Another one lit, and then another, until the whole tree was gently glowing. Alaric let out a low sound of appreciation.

Bonnie flicked a finger, and a blossom detached itself from the tree. Borne up as if on a breeze, it floated gently into the sky. Another followed, then more, until a trail of glowing blossoms, like little lanterns, floated up above the trees. They hovered and dispersed, sailing off in all directions.

“Wow,” Matt said. Bonnie looked at him, looked at them all, their faces upturned and gently lit by the glowing blossoms and the stars.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she said softly. But she smiled. Zander’s arms went around her waist, and he gently kissed her cheek.

It was all going to work out. No matter where Bonnie went, no matter what new danger threatened, she and her friends would never lose each other. Somehow, in that moment, Bonnie was sure of it.

Chapter 31

“The stake’s touching his heart,” Jack said. “I can kill him in a second. Give me the poison, and I’ll let your boyfriend go.”

Damon could hardly breathe, and with each tiny movement of the stake in Jack’s hand, he felt dizzy and drained. His whole chest burned as if it were on fire. He stood as still as he could and fixed his eyes on Elena, willing her to listen to the message he was trying to send her. Don’t give it to him. Run away.

He didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t live with himself if they let go of their only chance of killing Jack. Not when Jack had killed Stefan, killed Katherine.

Besides, if Elena did hand over the poison, he would probably shove the stake through Damon’s heart anyway. They knew by now that they couldn’t trust him.

Carefully, Damon tensed his muscles little by little, keeping himself fully aware of the stake. His best chance would be to wait for Jack to be distracted, and then to take him down quickly. Protect Elena, and perhaps even save himself. Adrenaline began to burn beneath his skin in anticipation of a fight.

“What’s it going to be?” Jack said, thrusting the stake a fraction of an inch deeper. Damon flinched.

Elena didn’t answer. She was standing very still, her eyes dark and huge in her pale face. She looked, Damon thought, like someone about to be burned at the stake.

“Stop this,” she said, and Damon felt a pulse of Power coming from her. Jack laughed and shook his head. Whatever Elena was trying, it wasn’t working.

Damon shut his eyes for just a moment. His heart was pulsing around the stake, sending steady throbs of pain through his body. It made it hard to think.

It wouldn’t be so bad to die if he had to, he supposed. He had loved. He had lived.

If only he could be sure that Jack would let Elena go.

The stake against his heart jerked, hard, and Damon’s eyes flew open.

Jack yanked the stake entirely out of Damon’s chest, his arm flinging wide and the stake clattering to the ground. Damon took his cue and leaped forward, ready to fight, but there was no fight to have, not right now.

Jack was being pulled backward, away from Damon, with short, jerky steps. His arms were drawn up and suspended in midair, even as his body writhed, struggling. His face was twisted with rage.

Damon, his hand covering the wound on his chest, turned around to stare at Elena. As he watched, her hands came up and moved, her long elegant fingers plucking in time to the motion of Jack’s limbs, puppet master to Jack’s puppet. Her eyes were shining, and she looked triumphant.

“Good girl,” Damon breathed. “Beautiful.”

He had never seen Elena use her Guardian Powers with such precision before. Elena twitched a finger and Jack’s head snapped backward with an outraged snarl. He was utterly at her mercy.

Damon headed for Elena and found himself stumbling, moving at half the speed he usually could. Fresh blood was pumping out of his chest and streaming down his body as he moved. The suit would be ruined, he thought dazedly. His body was trying to knit itself together, but there was too much damage. He needed to feed.

“Use the poison,” Elena murmured as he came up to her. Her eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Jack, as if a glance aside would break her power over him.

Damon fumbled open the briefcase at her feet, unlatching the box he found inside. Five needles full of the poison, each shimmering softly in the light of the moon overhead. He grabbed one, unclipping it from the side of the box, and held it tightly but carefully as he turned back toward Jack.

Jack’s eyes fixed on the hypodermic, and his eyes widened. For the first time, he looked afraid.

But Elena’s control was beginning to slip, Damon could see. As Damon got closer, the self-made vampire lunged toward him, grabbing desperately at the hypodermic with one hand, even as the rest of his body jerked at Elena’s command.

Damon grabbed hold of the free arm, trying to force it into stillness as he raised the syringe. Maybe he could inject it here, right in the vein at the crook of the elbow.

He hesitated just for a split second, looking for the long blue line of the vein, and in that second Elena lost control. Like his puppet strings had been suddenly cut, Jack fell forward, knocking Damon to the ground. The syringe fell from his hand, skittering away across the concrete of the plaza.

Damon sucked in a breath, dazed for a moment, and Jack’s fangs sunk into his throat, ripping and tearing. Can’t lose more blood, Damon reminded himself, and struggled, shoving the other vampire away. His teeth gouged at Damon’s throat as they came out, and Damon clawed viciously at Jack’s face, trying to take some vengeance.

He was holding Jack away, far enough that he couldn’t bite, but the other vampire’s hands fumbled at his chest. They found the wound above Damon’s heart and roughly, slowly, wormed their way within.

Damon gasped in shock. He could feel Jack’s long fingers inside him, reaching for his heart.

Everything went gray for a moment, and when the world snapped back into color, Damon’s chest was going cold. He tried to gasp for air, but Jack was above him, blocking out the sky, his presence suffocating.

Just beside Damon, something glimmered. The syringe. Slowly, as if someone else was moving it, Damon saw his own hand slide toward it and pick it up. He fumbled for a second, and it almost fell again. And then, with new strength, he gripped the syringe and shoved it against Jack’s neck.

Everything went gray. He must have lost consciousness, because when he blinked back into awareness, time seemed to have passed. Elena was pulling Jack’s weight off of him and kneeling by Damon’s side. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what she said.

And then, with the force of a sudden slap, light and sound came back into the world.

“—please, I don’t think I can take it,” Elena was saying. Damon smiled at her. It seemed to take a lot more effort than it usually did.

The ragged bite on his throat burned, and he could feel a lukewarm trickle of blood running down his side. But warmth flooded him as he looked up at Elena. She looked like an angel. “I love you,” he said. “Always.” It seemed so simple.

Beside them, Jack gave a rattling gasp, and Damon turned his head to look at him, the concrete cold and gritty against his cheek.

“Lucia,” Jack muttered. His eyes were wet and bloodshot. A strange, rank smell, like rotting meat, rose from him, and Damon wrinkled his nose, clutching at the wound on his own chest. “You have to understand,” Jack said fiercely. “Someone has to know why I did it. I loved Lucia, but Siobhan loved me. And then I found out Siobhan was a vampire.” He coughed, a loose hacking cough, and a stream of drool ran across his chin.

“And you wanted her Power for yourself,” Elena said coolly.

Jack groaned and shook his head. “No, it wasn’t about that. Lucia got sick. All the doctors said she would die. I was half-crazy… Siobhan came when I called her, but she wouldn’t change Lucia, wouldn’t fix her.”

Jack’s lips twitched into a smile again, stiffer and more horrible, the rictus grin of a dying man. “But I had another plan. I would make Siobhan save her, and I’d make myself a vampire, too. We’d live forever, together. Strong and well.”

“Something happened, though,” Elena said. Her voice was a little warmer, Damon thought. Elena understood why someone would do terrible things for love. “Your plan didn’t work.”

Blood trickled down Jack’s chin now, and he moaned and twitched as if he wanted to wipe it away but couldn’t raise his hands. His eyes rolled from side to side, as if he were seeing something too horrible to look at directly. “I found Lucia’s poor body, she was torn apart… I was going to kill them all. I’d make more vampires, stronger, better ones, and we’d hunt down Siobhan and her kind.” He looked from Elena to Damon, his eyes pleading. “I know… we’re monsters. But when the vampires are dead, I’ll kill my creations. It was the only way I could fight them. Let me live. Let me finish.”

His own lukewarm blood running through his fingers, Damon slowly shook his head. So what if Jack thought he was a hero? He had murdered Stefan, and he deserved to die.

Elena wrapped her arms around herself. She looked young and vulnerable, but she was Damon’s strong girl. “No,” she said. “This is the end, Jack.”

Jack choked and gagged, a harsh cough tearing from his throat. “Let me make the world safe,” he said weakly, when the coughing fit finally ended, “Please. I’m not a bad man.”

He took one final rattling breath and then his chest stilled and everything was silent.

Damon took a breath of his own and stared up at the half-moon sailing high above the plaza, his chest feeling raw and painful. Jack was dead. They had their vengeance for Stefan now, and it was all over.

He had thought that it would feel better, more complete. But the flush of joy he’d felt had faded, and the ache was still inside him. Stefan was dead. He felt a slender, warm hand take his, and he turned to Elena. “We did it,” she said softly, and Damon leaned against her. The bond between them was flooding with relief, and Damon felt his slow heart speed up a bit as he held onto Elena’s hand. “We did,” he agreed, watching the soft glow of her skin in the moonlight. “Now we can go home.”

Chapter 30

The sign in front of the office building read LIFETIME SOLUTIONS. Elena frowned up at it uneasily. “That seems sort of ominous,” she said to Damon. “Lifetime Solutions? Isn’t death the only solution to a lifetime?”

It was early evening, and the flow of office workers leaving the building had slowed to a trickle. It was time to make their move.

“We all know what Jack’s solution is, don’t we?” Damon said. “I still have a keycard.” He was dressed in a sleek, beautifully cut, dark suit. His idea, she supposed, of what a Swiss businessman might wear. To Elena, he looked a little too sophisticated for the role, better suited to a magazine spread than a real office. In contrast, she was wearing a skirt and blouse, an outfit she might have worn to her actual job, before Stefan had died and she’d stopped going.

She smoothed her hands over the skirt, wiping her sweaty palms, and raised an eyebrow at Damon. “Shall we?”

They crossed the square and entered the lobby of the Lifetime Solutions building. The security guard glanced at them with interest. Elena’s breath quickened. This was it. The place was probably crawling with Jack’s vampires. Damon slapped the keycard against the automatic door and then, as it opened, he froze. He tried to take a step forward, then jerked to a halt again and frowned at the door.

“What’s up?” Elena said, keeping her voice casual. She looked quickly at the security guard, who was looking in the other direction now.

“I can’t get in,” Damon said softly. “Jack must have done something after I stole his journal. The way’s barred against me.”

Elena stepped through the door and then back out. There was nothing stopping her. “Do you think he’s got a human living in there?” she whispered.

Damon shrugged. “Must be. It wouldn’t stop the vampires he’s made, only the ones like me.”

“Right. Just like sunlight or running water or stakes,” Elena agreed. The security guard was peering suspiciously at them now, and she forced a laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot it,” she said loudly and nonsensically. Damon was looking at her like she was insane, so she flicked her eyes toward the outer door. “Let’s go get it.”

“New plan,” she said, once they were outside and out of sight of the guard. “Draw me a map of how to get to Jack’s office.” They’d agreed, if he kept the poison anywhere in the building, his private office would be the most likely place. The journal had been there.

Damon tensed. He didn’t like her going in alone, Elena knew. But it was the only solution. “You’ll be careful?” he asked reluctantly.

“Of course.” Elena forced a smile as she took the keycard from his hand. “Make me that map.”

Her heels seemed to echo unnaturally loudly as she walked across the lobby a second time. But the security guard paid no attention as she used the keycard to pass through the automatic door.

Once the elevator doors had safely shut between them, Elena took a deep breath and pulled the map Damon had made out of her attaché case. Up to the fourth floor.

The elevator doors opened onto a sleek and empty reception area, all grays and whites under soft lighting. It was completely silent; there was no one in sight.

The route Damon had marked out led her past a lab full of caged rats and through a corridor lined with cubicles. She gripped her attaché case in one hand. It was partly intended for camouflage, partly so she’d have something to put the poison in if—no, when, she told herself fiercely—she found it.

She hoped it was in Jack’s office, she thought, frowning through a window overlooking a laboratory full of medical equipment.

Lifetime Solutions looked just like any kind of medical research lab. She’d expected something a little more threatening, somehow.

The lights were on everywhere, fluorescent bulbs humming up above her. Even a few computers were still on, but she didn’t see a single person, not until she turned the corner of the hall that led to Jack’s office.

There was a man sitting at a desk outside Jack’s office, a stack of papers in front of him. When Elena turned, he was clearly already expecting her, his head up and his eyes fixed on where she approached.

He must have heard her footsteps. Human? Elena wondered. Vampire? She hadn’t been particularly stealthy, and the office was quiet. It was perfectly reasonable that he might have heard her, even if he lacked any special powers.

Elena tried to slow her heartbeat, to calm herself down, and kept the smile fixed on her face as she approached him. He watched her placidly, but she thought she saw an eager look cross his face for just a moment, the expression of a predator who scented prey. Was she imagining it?

As she came to a halt in front of his desk, he smiled back up at her, a bland, professional smile. “Kann ich der helfen, bitte?” he asked politely.

Oh no. They spoke more than one language in Switzerland, didn’t they? She hadn’t accounted for that in her plans. At dinner, Damon had ordered for her in French. Elena only spoke English. She could only remember a few phrases from the summer she’d spent in Paris, just enough to be sure this vampire wasn’t speaking French.

“Jack sent me for some papers from his office,” she said. She kept her voice level and the smile pinned to her face. Did she look as fake as she felt? She tried to channel the persona she had used in the time she’d worked as an executive assistant: calm, polite, professional, slightly bored. “I’ve come all the way from Virginia, in the United States. It’s very important.”

For just a moment, something flashed through the man’s aura. Something wrong, a neon red slicing through the muddy blue. Vampire. Definitely a vampire, Elena thought, and just managed to stop herself from taking a step backward.

The vampire’s eyes sharpened at her miniscule flinch, taking on an even more predatory gleam. But when he spoke again, his voice was perfectly cordial. “Certainly, Miss. What does Dr. Daltry require?”

All of sudden, it was like something clicked into place, and her Guardian Power bloomed. A new power this time, like she was seeing inside him, watching the rhythms of the vampire’s heart and mind. Elena took a quick, excited breath, her heart speeding up again.

“Listen carefully,” she told him, and there was a funny, deep echo behind her words, as if someone else, someone Powerful, was speaking in time with her. The vampire relaxed, his mouth tilting into a faint smile, and Elena could see that he wanted to obey her.

She wondered…

“Why don’t you come with me?” she said, and the echo was still there. “Help me look.”

With perfect readiness, the vampire rose to his feet. Elena glanced around hurriedly. She was fizzing with nervous excitement. She’d never been able to compel anyone to do what she wanted before. Would this work on everyone? Only on vampires? If her control snapped, he would kill her, she was sure. She forced herself to concentrate, holding onto her Power over him.

There. On the other side of the hall was a plain white door with a bolt. She walked over to it, the vampire following her docilely. It was a supply closet, its shelves neatly lined with envelopes of various sized pads of paper, boxes of paper clips and staples. It was like any supply closet in any office in the world, and Elena felt a funny little pang at the sight of it. It had been good, working in an office, living the daylit life with Stefan. She wouldn’t ever be that girl again.

“Go in,” she told the vampire, listening to the echo of Power behind her own words. He hesitated, though, a small frown creasing his forehead. He was clearly struggling between the force of Elena’s command and his natural inclinations. “Go on,” she said, and tried to put an extra force of will behind it. She could feel him bending beneath her words, and Elena gritted her teeth and pushed.

The vampire’s face smoothed out. “Yes, fräulein.” He stepped forward, into the closet.

“Stay,” Elena said hurriedly. “You’re fine there. You won’t need anything.”

She closed the door quietly behind him and flipped the lock. She hoped the command would be enough, and that it would still work when she wasn’t standing right there next to him. The lock wouldn’t be strong enough to hold a vampire for long.

She rapidly crossed the hall again and went into Jack’s office, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, taking a quick gulp of air. There was a lock, thank goodness, and she turned the latch as quietly as she could, her hands shaking.

How long did she have before this new Guardian Power’s effect wore off, she wondered. Or did she have even that long? Were there security cameras watching the hall, would someone have seen her lock him in?

She firmly put it out of her mind. She needed to concentrate on the job at hand. But she had to work fast.

The office had floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the plaza outside, a coat closet in the corner, and another door that led to a small bathroom. It looked like a normal executive office—desk, cabinets, chairs. Not too many places to hide something secret.

Damon had found Jack’s journal in a secret drawer at the back of the desk, so that was the place to start. Elena seated herself in the cushy leather chair behind the desk and slid the top drawer all the way out.

On the top of the back of the drawer, just as Damon had described, was a small keyhole. Pulling the lock picks Damon had given her out of her attaché case, she slid the straight piece of metal into the lock and turned it as far as she could, then carefully inserted the long curved pick. At first, it was just like she was fishing around, rubbing a few pieces of metal together with no effect. But at her fourth try, something shifted. It took a few more tries to manage to push back all the pins inside the cylinder of the lock. Finally, though, the lock turned as neatly and easily as if she’d had the key.

“Gorgeous,” Elena breathed to herself. “Let’s see.”

Nothing. The secret compartment was empty.

Frustrated, she shoved the drawer closed again a little too hard. There was an audible clunk. Elena froze and listened hard. There were probably other vampires in the building, and their hearing would be sharp. But there was no answering sound, and after a moment, she relaxed.

She looked quickly around the room. If the poison wasn’t in the secret compartment, where could it be hidden? She began to rifle through the other drawers, pulling them out and looking them over carefully. No more secret compartments, as far as she could see. No keyholes hidden in the backs of these drawers.

There was nothing in the desk, nothing fastened underneath it, either. She got to her feet and looked around. The cabinets? She froze. Had that been a noise? She drew the stake from her attaché case. If it was the vampire secretary, breaking free of her suggestion, maybe she’d be able to take him out for long enough that she could escape.

But there was no other sound. She must have imagined it. Her luck was holding, for now.

The cabinets held nothing but hanging files and, at the bottom of one, a bottle of gin.

Where else? Elena ran her hands under the cushions of the chairs, lifted the paintings on the walls and looked behind them to make sure there was no concealed safe. The closet was empty, except for a long black coat and an umbrella. Elena swung the door shut.

Wait. The memory of her favorite hiding place back home made her look in the closet again, more carefully.

There were the faintest lines across the floor. A square. Elena hurried back to the desk and found a thin bronze letter opener. She stuck it into one of the cracks and slowly pried up the panel.

Below the panel was another locked compartment.

Her hands were shaking now, and she dropped the thin pick twice before she got it in the lock properly.

Sitting at the bottom of this hidden compartment was a square box, maybe eight inches on each side, made of black metal. Please, Elena thought. Please. Carefully, she snapped back the latches and opened the box.

Inside, neatly clipped into place along the sides of the box, were six hypodermics full of shimmering blue liquid.

Elena took a moment to marvel that Siobhan had bothered to make her false poison the right color. Perhaps she really had possessed some of the poison, although she hadn’t given it to Elena and Damon. Maybe they should have searched the cave and Siobhan’s cabin in the woods.

Better still, there were some papers inside the box that, based on Elena’s quick glance, seemed like they might be the research notes on how Jack had developed the formula.

She sent a wave of victory, of joy, through the connection to Damon. He’d know what she meant.

As carefully as she could, hyperaware of how fragile a syringe was, she packed the box into her case and glanced around the room. If it held other secrets, she hadn’t uncovered them. And staying any longer would be pushing her luck.

Elena smoothed down her skirt and straightened her blouse. There was one last thing she needed to do.

Leaving Jack’s office, she was careful to leave the door slightly cracked, the way she’d found it. There was only silence in the hall, no sound coming from the supply closet. Her luck had held: no one seemed to have yet noticed that anything was amiss.

When she opened the supply closet, the vampire was facing the shelves of envelopes, calm and relaxed, just as she’d left him. Power thrummed through her, and she felt the tendril that held him in place, running straight from her to him. He turned to look amiably at her, awaiting her next instruction.

Elena whipped out the hypodermic she’d been holding behind her back, jammed it into the side of his throat, and pushed the plunger.

The effect was instantaneous. The vampire choked, his eyes bulging. He brought his hands up to claw at his throat, pushing the empty hypodermic away. The gentle spell he had seemed to be under snapped. “What are you doing to me?” he gasped, his voice strangled. “What did you do?”

He fell heavily to the floor, panting. A thin stream of drool ran out across his chin. He seemed to be struggling to move, tiny twitches of his arms and legs, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. His eyes, red and watering, fixed on Elena. “Help me,” he whispered.

Elena hardened her heart. “You would have killed me if you had the chance, you know you would,” she said. He only blinked, looking up at her with a dazed expression. “Wouldn’t you?” she demanded, letting a thread of the compelling echo slide into her voice.

The dying vampire twitched again. His eyes rolled back into his head. He was dead.

Steeling herself, Elena took hold of the vampire’s legs and dragged him into Jack’s office, where he wouldn’t be found as easily. He was heavy, and his head bumped roughly against the doorframe as she pulled him through. Despite herself, Elena winced at the thump.

She pulled him over to the coat closet where the poison had been hidden and wedged him inside. Closing the closet door, she turned the latch, locking his body inside.

Combing her hair and touching up her makeup, Elena made sure that she was pristine again before she left Jack’s office. It was better not to look like she had been dragging corpses around if she wanted to get out of here unquestioned. With luck, no one would look for the dead vampire until tomorrow.

She could feel Damon radiating anxiety through their bond, now that she had a moment to realize it.

She tried to send him reassurance and joy—they’d found it, they’d succeeded—but the emotions she was feeling from Damon didn’t calm down. He’d be happy once she was out of Lifetime Solutions. That black box would ensure Damon’s safety. Vengeance for Stefan’s death.

Coming down in the elevator, Elena allowed herself for a moment to wonder if now they’d be able to move on.

No one stopped her as she crossed the lobby. Elena’s heart beat faster. She was going to make it out.

Outside, it was now fully dark, and the plaza was deserted.

“Damon?” Elena called. “I’ve got it.” She could sense him, somewhere nearby.

“Elena.” Jack’s voice. A cold shiver ran down her back. Elena turned around.

Jack had his arm wrapped around Damon, a stake sunk halfway into Damon’s chest. As she watched, he pushed the stake in a little farther, and a circle of bright blood began to spread across Damon’s shirt. “Elena,” Jack said again. “I think we need to talk.”

Chapter 29

Bonnie clutched Matt’s hand, trying to hold him steady as Jasmine steered the car around a curve. Fresh blood was staining the bandage on his neck, and Bonnie’s stomach turned over. His neck had looked like a piece of raw meat.

“He’s bleeding again,” she told Jasmine, her voice thin.

Jasmine’s eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror. “Put pressure on it. We’re almost there.”

Bonnie took a cloth from the seat beside her and pushed it firmly against Matt’s neck. He gave a small pained grunt, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Sorry, so sorry. Is this right?”

“You’re doing great,” Jasmine told her.

Matt shifted, blinking his eyes open. “M’okay,” he muttered.

“Sure you are, cowboy,” Jasmine told him. “Just take it easy.” At the sound of her voice, Matt’s face relaxed, and his eyes fluttered shut again.

Jasmine pulled the car into a spot near the front door of Elena and Damon’s apartment building, and Meredith came around to the car to help Matt.

“Get the IV drip and the cooler of blood bags from the trunk, okay?” Jasmine asked Bonnie before she and Meredith hurried, supporting Matt, toward the front door, which Elena was already holding open.

Matt was in good hands, Bonnie thought, swinging open the trunk. Jasmine wasn’t a fighter or magical, but she was scarily efficient. The pole for the IV was in a couple of different pieces—light, made of hollow aluminum, but awkward to carry—and Bonnie had to gather them together a couple of times before she got them tucked securely under one arm and was able to pick up the cooler with the blood bags and the tubing with the other. Everyone else had disappeared into Elena and Damon’s apartment building by the time Bonnie slammed the trunk and headed inside.

Her steps faltered for a moment. When had she started thinking of it as Elena and Damon’s building, not Elena and Stefan’s? Sorrow shot through her, and she suddenly missed Stefan so much.

And now the man—no, the vampire—who’d killed him had gotten away. Bonnie swallowed back her tears, clutching the IV pole. They’d saved Matt. He was hurt, but they’d gotten him out of there. That was the most important thing.

Upstairs, Matt was lying on the couch, and Jasmine immediately got to work setting up the drip. “He lost a lot of blood, but that’s the worst of his injuries,” she said. “He’s going to be fine.” There were dried tear tracks on her cheeks, but her fingers were sure as they moved across the medical equipment.

“We’re back to square one, aren’t we?” Elena asked dismally from her chair near the couch. “Jack and his vampires can’t be killed, and he’ll keep coming after us.”

“He wants Damon dead,” Meredith said flatly, “and he wants me back at his side.”

Alaric put his arm around her, and she leaned against him, her dark head on his shoulder. “Maybe we should cut our losses and stop hunting him,” he said hesitantly. “It might be better to concentrate on keeping away from Jack if we don’t have a chance of killing him.”

“I agree,” Jasmine said, pausing with an IV needle in her hand. “We need to lay low. Matt could have been killed. Any of us could have.”

“We’re not giving up.” Meredith said, her jaw set. Elena nodded.

There was an uneasy silence. Jasmine was glaring down at her hands as she neatly set up the IV and began to rebandage Matt’s wounds. Matt moaned softly, and Bonnie saw him flinch, his eyes still firmly closed, but his lashes fluttering. He looked so vulnerable. She was used to thinking of Matt as tough, despite the fact that he was the most human of them.

Bonnie’s mouth was dry with nerves suddenly, and she cleared her throat. “I think they’re right,” she said. “We don’t have anything. Like Elena said, we’re back where we started. And we’re the only ones in danger from him here. We don’t need to protect anyone else.”

Elena and Meredith both stared at her, shocked. The three of them had always joked about their “velociraptor sisterhood,” that they always had one another’s backs. Bonnie felt a wriggle of guilt, deep inside. But if there was no way forward, maybe it was time to think about retreating.

“Just because we’re back to the beginning doesn’t mean we quit playing,” Elena said sharply. She looked to Damon for support.

But Damon was staring into space. “I’m not sure we have nothing.” His dark eyes narrowed as he spoke to Elena. “Think of what Siobhan told us. She knew Jack would always make himself a back door, in case he needed to get rid of the vampires. Doesn’t that sound right?”

Elena’s face brightened, her irritation turning thoughtful. “You think Siobhan was telling the truth about the poison?”

Damon arched an eyebrow at her. “The best lies always have some basis in reality.”

“So you think there really is a poison somewhere that’ll kill them?” Bonnie asked. “Like an antidote to whatever Jack does that makes them immortal?” There was a general stirring in the room as everyone sat up straighter.

“But Siobhan’s dead,” Elena said. “Even if she knew about a real poison, we can’t get the information out of her now.”

“I’ll go back to Jack’s laboratory in Zurich,” Damon said slowly. “That’s where I found his journal, it’s where everything started. If there’s a poison, he might keep it there.”

“I’m going with you,” Elena said immediately. She was leaning forward now, beginning to smile, her eyes locked on Damon’s as he met her smile with one of his own. They might have been the only two people in the room.

A small motion over by the couch caught Bonnie’s eye. Jasmine was holding Matt’s hand between both of her own, and she bent her head to kiss his knuckles. His eyes were open now, and they were gazing at each other with such a wealth of tenderness that Bonnie had to look away.

Alaric’s arms were wrapped around Meredith, supporting and protecting. She sighed and cuddled against his body. He kissed the top of her head. Elena and Damon were still grinning at each other, delighted with their own cleverness.

Bonnie suddenly ached for Zander, an empty hollow ache in the middle of her chest. She remembered the cascading purple blossoms of the mimosa in Mrs. Flowers’s garden, the way their sweet scent had risen from her hands and clothes all the way home, filling her car with the smells of summer. Joy rising from sorrow. Second chances. It was as if she could hear Mrs. Flowers whispering in her ear. Finally, Bonnie thought she understood the point of the story Mrs. Flowers had told her.

No one needed Bonnie now. They were peaceful and safe, each wrapped up with the one they loved. Things were bad, there was no question about it, but they had a moment of calm now, before the storm. She slipped quietly into the hall, pulling out her phone.

Zander picked up on the first ring. “Bon?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

His voice sounded so good, deep and warm with that familiar rough note in it. Bonnie closed her eyes, her whole body relaxing even as tears of relief came into her eyes. She’d been trying so hard not to miss him.

She could picture him clearly, his moonlight-blond hair hanging rattily down the back of his neck—he always needed a haircut—his ocean-blue eyes quizzical and gently concerned. She could imagine that he was standing, his weight balanced evenly on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action if she needed him. Even just if she wanted him.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m saying yes.”

“What?” Zander sounded wary, unsure.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll come to Colorado. I have to help the others with the Jack situation, but we’ll figure something out.” Bonnie sniffed. There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “Zander, are you there? I love you, Zander. I was an idiot to let you go.”

“And one thing we know is that Ms. Bonnie McCullough is not an idiot.” She could hear the smile in Zander’s voice now.

“Damn straight,” she said.

Life was short, for humans like her, and for werewolves, too. And even if she had to leave everything here behind, she was going to marry Zander. Warmth unfurled inside her, and her eyes filled with happy tears.

She’d figure out how to keep helping her friends. But she wasn’t giving up Zander. She was going to spend that life with him, no matter what. True love? True love was worth anything.

Chapter 28

The drive back had been far too long, Damon thought, even though they’d taken a straight route home instead of the wandering path that had led them to the caverns. In the back seat, Siobhan had grumbled constantly, complaining about the movement of the car, the confined space, the smells of gasoline and oil.

For his part, Damon had hardly been able to stand the smell of drying blood from her face and clothing. It made his teeth ache with hunger.

“It’s almost daylight,” she said now, as Damon took the side road that would lead them to Jack’s warehouse lair. “If the sun reaches inside this car, I’ll be sure to bring you both down with me.” Her tilted pale eyes were commanding, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“We’ll be in before dawn, and the warehouse doesn’t have any windows,” he told her reassuringly. “We can cover you with something to get you out after Jack’s dead.”

That would be a good way to kill her, he mused. A quick shove into the sunlight, a protecting blanket ripped away, and they’d be free of Siobhan before she could turn on them. He glanced at Elena, wondering if she’d caught the image through their bond.

But Elena was leaning forward, peering through the windshield at the warehouse. “Good, they’re already here.”

The others were waiting in a parking lot across the highway from Jack’s warehouse, far enough away that Jack’s vampires wouldn’t be able to hear them coming. Meredith, tall and poised, stood half-concealed in the shadows, her eyes shining in the reflected glare of their headlights. As the car turned into the lot, she raised a hand in greeting. Beside her was Alaric, his hands crammed into his pockets. A little behind them, Damon glimpsed two curly heads. Bonnie and Jasmine.

No Zander, no Pack. His little redbird had seemed strained the last time he saw her; there must be trouble in paradise. It was a pity. They could have used the wolves.

Damon dismissed the thought. They’d work with what they had. He parked the car, and he and Elena crossed the parking lot to their friends, Siobhan stalking behind them. There was a cold feeling on the back of Damon’s neck. He didn’t like not being able to see Siobhan’s every move.

“What a lot of humans,” Siobhan said. “Will we feed before we kill Jack?”

“No,” Damon said firmly, and the older vampire gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

“Jack’s in there,” Meredith said, as soon as they got close, jerking her head toward the warehouse on the other side of the highway.

“Oh, she’s one of Henrik’s nasty creations,” Siobhan said, sounding disgusted. “She’s not even real.” Meredith’s hand clenched on her stave.

Damon shook his head, and Meredith loosened her grip. She looked pale and drawn, which answered one question he’d had. She hadn’t been drinking human blood, not since she came back from Jack’s group. He hadn’t had anything but animal blood either, not since he’d fed from Elena. Neither of them were going to be at their best for this fight.

Still, they just had to overpower Jack long enough to inject him with the poison. And to rescue Matt, Damon supposed.

“Give me the poison,” he said, holding his hand out to Siobhan. She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Please.” She hesitated for a moment and then reached into her pocket and drew out a vial of dark liquid. She’d had it hidden somewhere at the back of the cave among her corpses. She hadn’t let them see exactly where.

Damon waited. Siobhan turned the vial over in her hands, watching the liquid flow back and forth. Her eyes were hooded and thoughtful.

She’s not going to hand it over. Damon sighed inwardly, preparing himself for the fight. Siobhan, freshly full of human blood, would be stronger than he was, but at least she was outnumbered.

“I don’t know,” Siobhan said slowly. “I’ve been waiting a long time to kill Henrik. And it was very clever of me to find the poison. This is mine.”

“Please,” Elena said. “Siobhan, you’ve been following him for so long. It must be a burden. Let us help you.”

The two pairs of blue eyes met squarely, and Damon was reminded of generals on a battlefield. They weren’t friends, would never be friends, but they had a common cause.

Siobhan broke their exchanged gaze first. With a scornful curl of her lip, she gave Damon the vial, her fingers cool as they brushed against his.

He looked at Jasmine. “Did you bring a syringe?” Jasmine nodded and bent her head to look through the medical bag she carried.

Damon prepared the syringe and tucked it carefully into his shirt pocket before turning to the others. “Ready?”

Everyone nodded. The humans each gripped a stake, while Meredith stood beside Damon. Her lips curled back in a snarl, showing her canines, already sharp and long.

“Breaking their necks will keep them down longest,” Damon told them, “but that’s tough for a human to manage. Strike hard and keep moving.” He shot Elena a small smile. She would be fine, he reminded himself. Nothing supernatural could kill her.

“Damon and I will go after Jack,” she said. “Everyone else needs to focus on Matt. Jasmine, you know where he is?”

Jasmine nodded, her eyes huge. “They have him chained up against the back wall.”

“I can break the chains,” Meredith said quickly. “Just be careful everybody, okay?”

Bonnie and Alaric linked their free hands, beginning to murmur a protective charm. Damon glanced at them all, the brave little group of humans—plus Meredith—he’d somehow gotten himself entangled with, and felt oddly fond. He could count on them to fight, to protect each other until their last breaths. Behind them, Siobhan stood statue still, her pale face blank, the splotches of blood on her dress dry now.

“Are you with us?” Damon demanded.

She stared at him. “I’m coming,” she said in her throaty, expressionless voice.

“Let’s go, then,” Damon said, and they crossed the highway.

Jack’s vampires depended too much on their deadbolts and their sharp hearing to protect them, Damon thought with disgust. When he picked the lock and swung the door quietly open, they caught the guards on duty by surprise. They were a young couple, still almost human, who’d been wrapped up in each other instead of watching for intruders.

Damon had the impression of a bewildered, young face as he snapped the neck of the guy. When he turned to take care of the girl, Meredith already had her down on the floor.

“Good work,” Damon muttered, and Meredith rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” she said softly, and Jasmine, Bonnie, and Alaric followed her farther into the warehouse. There were crates piled everywhere, and they were soon out of sight, although Damon could hear their footsteps. He frowned. If he could hear them, so could any other vampire.

Elena stood beside him, poised with a stake ready in her hand. A little behind her, Siobhan, cold-eyed and expressionless, walked across the girl vampire’s body, a rib snapping audibly beneath her feet. Damon repressed a shudder. He didn’t like her so close behind Elena, looming like an angel of death.

Turning his attention, Damon scanned the warehouse for Jack, keeping his eyes and ears open. “Over there,” he murmured, jerking his chin toward a stack of crates. There was someone behind them.

He cocked an eyebrow at Elena, and she nodded.

A grunt came from the other side of the warehouse, and he glanced over just in time to see another vampire fall, Alaric’s stake in his chest. They needed to find Jack, kill him, and get out, before his minions started recovering and they lost their advantage.

Senses on alert, Damon rounded the crates. Through his shirt pocket, he could feel the hypodermic needle.

A warm body slammed into his, kicking and punching, and he raised a hand to protect the syringe. His left hand cupping his pocket, he spun and kicked his attacker away. It was only another of Jack’s vampires, a round-faced blonde. Damon snapped his neck with his free hand without pausing.

“Use your teeth, idiot,” he muttered. He didn’t know how Jack chose his minions, but it wasn’t for their brains. Or, Meredith excepted, their fighting skill.

A voice came from behind him. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Damon turned. Jack was lightly poised on the balls of his feet, his eyes tracking Damon’s every move. He wasn’t underestimating Damon as an opponent, not anymore.

With a burst of energy, Damon charged, canines extended. He slammed into Jack, and they both fell heavily to the floor.

Sinking his teeth into Jack’s throat, Damon grappled with him, trying to keep him down as the strange taste of Jack’s blood filled his mouth. Damon grimaced in disgust, but kept biting, working his teeth back and forth in Jack’s throat to reopen the wound before it had time to heal. Jack grunted in pain and thrashed beneath Damon’s weight, but Damon had him pinned.

The chemical-laden blood was flooding into his mouth, and Damon swallowed rapidly, gulping it down despite the taste. Blood would make him stronger, and he desperately needed that if he was going to defeat Jack. Damon felt almost lightheaded with it, fireworks bursting behind his eyes.

Damon drew back to get his hands on the syringe, pulling his canines from Jack’s neck. Jack twisted and thrashed, bucking up and finally throwing Damon off. Damon rolled backward, crashing into the crate behind him.

Jack leaped to his feet in one smooth, controlled motion, his face twisted with rage. Then he froze, looking past Damon. “Siobhan?” he asked. There was a note of fear in his voice, the first Damon had ever heard from him.

“Hello, Jack.” Siobhan’s voice came from behind, cool and mocking, but Damon didn’t turn to look at her. This was his chance.

He pulled the syringe from his pocket. The liquid inside shimmered dark blue in the light of the warehouse. He began to inch toward Jack.

Jack suddenly gave a cut-off shout as his body flew backward like a rag doll’s and slammed into the warehouse wall. Suspended there, his feet dangled above the floor. His hands were pressed backward, flat against the wall. He was straining, the tendons in his neck visibly taut. He couldn’t move.

For a moment, Damon was stunned into stillness himself. Then he felt Elena’s concentration, her triumph coming through the bond. Being near Siobhan must have woken up her Powers. Damon glanced at Elena. Her hands were up, palms out, as if she was holding Jack in place, and her eyes were bright with intensity.

“Give it to me. I want to do it,” Elena muttered, and Damon snapped back into action.

He took two steps toward her and slapped the syringe into her palm. Let Elena have this kill. If finishing Jack would give her some peace, help her find solace for Stefan’s murder, then Damon would gladly give it to her.

Still holding Jack in place, Elena stepped forward and jammed the needle into Jack’s neck. As she pushed the plunger on the hypodermic, she smiled, a sharp, angry smile—no joy in it, but a great deal of satisfaction. From behind them, Siobhan began to laugh.

Jack blinked. And then he began to struggle, his head banging back against the wall and his arms coming up to grasp at Elena. Her hold on him must be slipping.

Damon ran forward and tackled him away, ripping his hands off of Elena. They fell to the ground together and rolled, Jack tearing at Damon with hands and teeth. He was as strong as ever.

It hadn’t worked, Damon realized, filling with heavy dread, as he felt blood run down his side. It hadn’t worked. Damon slammed Jack’s head against the concrete floor and snarled with rage and frustration.

Damon gasped and lost his focus on Jack, who kicked him away. A stake drove through his ribs from behind. They hadn’t hit the heart, though, he realized dazedly, or he’d already be dead. He tried to sit up as he heard Jack get to his feet, his footsteps quickly moving away.

Siobhan stood over Damon, her bloodred lips curled in a smile. “I wouldn’t give you a real poison, you fool,” she said coldly. “I love him. No one will kill him but me.”

From behind her came a growl of fury. Siobhan gasped, her face distorting with pain, and arched backward, her blue eyes wide and startled. Fresh red blood spread across the front of her stained white nightgown. Pulling the stake from his own back, Damon realized the tip of another stake was protruding from Siobhan’s chest.

This one, though, hadn’t missed the heart. Siobhan, her eyes suddenly blank, fell, her black hair spreading out around her. Behind her, with the face of an avenging angel, stood Elena.

Climbing to his feet, Damon caught Elena and pulled her against him. Her heart was beating hard, he could feel it pounding against him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

Elena shook her head. “No,” she said, sounding dazed. “Are you all right? She staked you.”

Jack was nowhere to be seen—he must have escaped when Siobhan staked Damon. But Damon managed to arrange his face into a smile. “It takes more than a stake to take me down, princess.” His back was aching horribly, and he could feel blood running down between his shoulder blades, soaking his shirt.

Scuffling footsteps came from behind them, and Damon wheeled around to see the others coming back, supporting Matt, who leaned heavily on Alaric. Jasmine was trying to check his vitals as she hurried beside them.

“The vampires are starting to wake up,” Meredith said sharply. “We have to go. Did the poison work?”

Damon held Elena closer. “No.” He could feel her shock and despair resonating through the bond, echoing his own. This had been their only chance. Siobhan had lied—and they had lost their chance to take vengeance for Stefan.

Jack was gone. They were no closer to finding a way to kill him, and their one lead had turned out to be worse than useless.

They had failed.

Chapter 27

“This is it,” Elena said, her mouth dry and her hands twitching with anticipation. Siobhan’s trail had led them westward, high into the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. And now, here they were, staring at a small cave entrance.

Elena bent to look more closely. A long cavern stretched further than she could see. They’d have to crawl to get through it. Elena cringed at the thought of moving into the damp and darkness, the heavy stone pressing down all around them.

But they didn’t have a choice. Siobhan’s bloodred aura, the color of death and violence, led straight into the cave. Despite her reluctance to crawl into the dark, Elena’s Guardian Powers were straining inside her, urging her forward. There was someone evil here, someone she was duty-bound to destroy.

No. Elena closed her eyes for a second and willed herself calm. She had to remember that they weren’t planning to kill Siobhan, not yet. Not until they had found out what she knew about Jack.

“I’ll go first,” Damon said. Elena opened her mouth to argue, and he raised an eyebrow at her challengingly.

Just then Elena’s phone rang. Jasmine, the display told her. Elena frowned. Jasmine never called her. Still, maybe it was good news about her research on Meredith’s blood.

“Hello?” she said, picking up. Immediately, she tensed.

Jasmine was crying, harsh sobs coming through the phone. Not good news, after all. “Jasmine? What is it? What’s happened?” Beside Elena, Damon stiffened.

“Jack has Matt,” Jasmine said, her voice rough and panicked. “He wants to trade him for Damon. He—it’s horrible, Elena, they’re feeding on him, and he’s only there because of me.”

For a moment, Elena froze. Not Matt. He was brave and strong, but he didn’t have special Power or protection, not like she did. Not like Damon did, or Bonnie, or Meredith.

Not like Stefan had, and Elena’s stomach knotted as the picture of Stefan falling, his expression of shock fading into blankness, flashed through her mind again. There was no way Matt could survive Jack, not if Stefan hadn’t.

Damon took the phone out of her hand. He’d heard everything, of course. “We’ll get your boyfriend back,” he said soothingly into the phone. “Once we take care of business here, find out the best way to handle Jack, we’ll be right there.” He paused to listen to Jasmine’s reply, but Elena couldn’t hear what she said. “They won’t kill him,” he said after a moment, his eyes meeting Elena’s. “Not if Jack wants to trade him for me.”

After he hung up, Damon looked at Elena again, his dark eyes unreadable. He’d been looking at her like that a lot, ever since they’d kissed a few hours ago. Unthinkingly, Elena touched her lips and felt herself flush as Damon’s gaze lingered on her fingers.

“We’d better get moving,” he said abruptly. “It appears that your friends can’t keep themselves out of trouble for even a couple of days without us.” Crouching down, he contemplated the cave entrance for a moment.

Something about the high defensive line of Damon’s shoulders, the pale skin at the nape of his neck made Elena say, impulsively, “We wouldn’t trade you, Damon. Not even for Matt.”

Damon looked back over his shoulder at her and flashed a brief, brilliant smile. “Good to know.” Ducking his head, he crawled through the mouth of the cavern. Pulling out the flashlight she carried, Elena followed.

The stone was cold and rough against her hands and knees, and it was difficult to hold on to the flashlight, which showed her little more than Damon’s heels. He could see in the dark as well as a cat, Elena knew, but her own view was restricted to the small pool of light thrown by her flashlight, and the red strands of Siobhan’s aura, strands as thick as Elena’s wrist, leading her steadily on.

Just as Elena began to feel that she couldn’t take the sensation of the stone walls pressing in on her from every direction, the tunnel opened up into a wider cavern. She straightened up with relief, her back and legs aching from the long crawl.

Siobhan wasn’t in this part of the cave, either, she realized immediately. The bloodred trail of her aura led further on, disappearing through another opening in the rock wall. Elena stood shoulder to shoulder with Damon, scanning the cavern with her flashlight.

The stone walls were rough and dark, glittering in places with mica, maybe, or fool’s gold. It was damp and cold—they must have come a good way underground.

“I smell blood,” Damon said, very quietly. “Human blood. Which way does the trail lead?” Elena pointed, and he nodded grimly.

Walking softly, their arms brushing, they followed the bloodred aura. Something was pushing eagerly inside Elena—find her, finish her, eliminate her—but she concentrated on keeping her Powers under control. Don’t attack unless you have to, she told herself. The Guardians wanted Siobhan dead, but Elena needed her alive.

They stepped through an opening in the rock wall, and Elena instinctively flinched backward, grabbing hold of Damon’s arm to steady herself.

Corpses were littered carelessly across the smooth stone floor, tumbled on top of each other like dolls dropped by a bored child, ten or twelve of them, all dead. Closest to Elena’s feet, an elderly woman stared up through empty eyes, her throat torn out.

Surrounded by the bodies stood a tall figure in a long, bloodstained white dress. Black hair flowed around her, twining over her shoulders and down to her waist. Siobhan. In her arms, half-wrapped in Siobhan’s hair, was another victim, Siobhan’s teeth working busily at his throat. Her eyes were closed.

Kill her. Elena started forward, all her strategies forgotten in the need to stop Siobhan, to protect her victim. Dangerous. Evil. Her Guardian Power bubbled up in her chest, ready to attack. Damon’s hand gripped her shoulder, trying to hold her back.

But they were too late. As soon as Elena moved, Siobhan’s eyes shot open, vividly blue, even in the shadowy light of the flashlight. She dropped the man she’d been feeding on, and he landed with a thud on the stone floor of the cave. He was clearly dead.

The heat in Elena’s chest dissipated, leaving an empty ache. There was no one to save here.

Siobhan’s eyes, gleaming with wicked joy, fixed on Elena. Her lips were red and slick with blood. “You…” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I dreamed of you.” Her gaze flickered to Damon. “And a little vampire, too.”

Elena felt Damon stiffen, and she shushed him with a touch on his arm. “We’ve been looking for you, Siobhan,” she said politely. “We came to ask for your help.”

Moving faster than Elena could track, Siobhan was suddenly terribly close. Elena struggled for breath, realizing only after a moment that Siobhan’s hand was tight around her throat. She was so fast.

Damon snarled, and Elena sent him a warning through their bond: Wait. Siobhan wasn’t hurting Elena. Not yet, anyway. And they needed her to listen to them.

Now that she was holding Elena, Siobhan was curiously still. Her eyes searched Elena’s. “You’re very…” she said, sounding puzzled and distant, like a sleepwalker. She looked Elena up and down. “… shiny. Gold. Not quite human. I don’t know what you are.”

Elena concentrated on breathing, slow and shallow. She needed to stay calm. Siobhan’s fingers were strong on her throat, and up close, the old vampire smelled like fresh blood, like death.

She can’t kill you, Elena told herself firmly, and kept her eyes steady on Siobhan’s. Her Guardian instincts squirmed inside her: kill her, kill her now, and Elena firmly restrained herself. She wouldn’t kill Siobhan, not yet. Not while she might be of use to them.

“Jack Daltry,” Damon said, watching them closely. “He’s killing vampires, like you and me. We want to kill him first. Can you help us?”

Siobhan grinned savagely, and Elena recoiled. The vampire’s canines were fully extended, stained with blood. Smiling, any illusion of humanity ripped away from her face. She looked like a monster. “That’s not even his name,” she said. “What chance do you have, knowing nothing? Idiots.”

“Henrik Goetsch, then,” Damon said, and Siobhan’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected them to know Jack’s real name.

“Henrik Goetsch,” she said thoughtfully, rolling the name over her tongue as if she was tasting it. “Yes, I remember Henrik.” Abruptly, she let go of Elena’s throat and strode away, her bare foot stepping on a corpse’s hand as nonchalantly as if it had been a twig. The edge of her long gown dragged through a pool of blood.

Elena sucked in a deep draught of air, her hand on her throat. “What do you remember about him?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

Siobhan swung around to face them. For a moment, she looked stricken, her eyes huge and unhappy, and then she laughed harshly. “He’s not a nice man, little sunshine,” she said.

“What did he do?” Elena asked softly. She smiled hesitantly at Siobhan—you can tell me, we’re just two girls—and the vampire’s eyes narrowed.

“Trapped me,” she said bitterly. “Tricked me. Pretended to love me. He took so much blood, and he wouldn’t let me feed.” Her lips curled into a smile. “I got loose, though, and killed his lab assistant. He wasn’t expecting that.” She licked her lips, reminiscing, and then scowled. “She tasted horrible, though. All wrong. Killed Henrik’s girlfriend, too.”

Satisfaction began to uncurl inside Elena, and she could feel the same emotion coming from Damon through their bond. They had been right. Siobhan was the vampire Jack had used to make his artificial vampires.

“Don’t you want revenge?” Damon asked, stepping toward Siobhan, his hands held out as if he was coaxing a skittish animal. “Don’t you want to kill Henrik? Can he be killed?”

“Oh, I’ll kill him one of these days,” Siobhan said, idly wandering among her corpses. She toed a middle-aged man over with her bare foot, so that he flopped onto his back, staring with empty eyes at the roof of the cave. Siobhan smiled down at him, as if she was laughing at a private joke. “I leave these bodies where I know he’s been. To remind him I know his secret, and that I’m coming for him.”

“His secret?” Elena said breathlessly. “So he can be killed.”

Siobhan looked coyly at them through her lashes and mimed zipping her lips. One of the smudges of blood on her face was definitely a handprint, Elena realized, feeling a little sick.

Siobhan cocked her head to one side, considering. “I knew Henrik would leave himself a back door. He wouldn’t create an army he couldn’t get rid of,” she said slowly. “So I watched and waited—I was very clever about it—and eventually I found out there was a poison that would kill the vampires he’d made. And I stole it.”

“It’ll kill Henrik, too?” Damon asked swiftly.

“Of course,” Siobhan said. “He’s just like the rest of them.” She wandered closer to them, her blue eyes fixed on Elena. With a thrill of disgust, Elena realized she was eyeing the vein on the side of Elena’s throat. “I’m not convinced I should let you have it, though. I don’t want anyone else getting my revenge. Maybe I should kill you instead. Eliminate the competition.”

An instinctual fear clenched Elena’s muscles. She can’t kill you. But she could hurt you trying. This old, wicked vampire had dragged so many victims deep underground and killed them all, just to prove a point. She was strong and determined.

“Please,” Elena said softly. She felt oddly as if she was rolling over to show her own underbelly, appeasing the vicious old vampire. “We need to kill Jack now. We want the same thing you do.” Her Guardian instincts were chanting kill her kill her now, but Elena swallowed them back and smiled at the vampire.

The edges of Siobhan’s lips curled up in a smile, and her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Take me with you.”

Damon shot Elena a look. His distrust of Siobhan came clearly through their bond.

Elena hesitated, and Siobhan’s smile widened. “Take me with you,” she said again. “The only way you’re getting the poison is if I can watch Henrik die.”

Damon was right; they couldn’t trust her. But they didn’t have a choice, not if they wanted Siobhan’s secret. She swallowed hard and said, as evenly as she could, “Okay. Let’s go.”

As they headed for the exit, Damon’s eyes met Elena’s. She could feel the same apprehension bubbling through them both. Siobhan was clearly vicious and unstable. What kind of ally would she be?

For now, they needed her. But as soon as Jack was dead, Elena promised inwardly, soothing her restless Guardian Power, she would kill Siobhan herself.

Chapter 26

Matt wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans and let his head rest against the driver’s seat for a moment. He took a deep breath before looking at the polished wooden stave in the passenger seat—one of Meredith’s old bo staffs. He gritted his teeth and picked it up. It was cool and sturdy in his hands, and he gripped it tightly, trying to remember all the moves Meredith had ever taught him.

Then he climbed out of the car, dread pooling in his stomach. Waiting wasn’t going to make this any easier.

Gravel scattered under his feet as he made his way across the parking lot toward Jack’s warehouse. Everything was silent, no signs of life in the empty lot. The silence seemed wrong, and, after a moment, Matt realized how weirdly complete it was: no sounds of traffic from the highway, no rustling of leaves from the trees, no birdsong. He shuddered, but kept walking.

Matt couldn’t wait for the others to make a plan, couldn’t wait for Elena and Damon to come home. Not while Jasmine was suffering.

Sweet, intelligent Jasmine with her shining eyes and softly curving mouth. Jasmine who loved him, who trusted him. Who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into trying to help Matt and his friends. Whatever happened, he had to at least try to save her. Tears prickled at the back of Matt’s eyes, and he blinked them away.

He wasn’t an idiot. There was a nest of vampires inside this warehouse. With his total lack of special powers, he was probably going to his death.

Matt swallowed hard. It would be better to die today trying to save Jasmine than to live sixty more years knowing he’d abandoned her.

Clutching the stave tightly, he considered his silent surroundings. The whole place seemed still and empty, as if it were deserted, but Matt knew better. He inspected the door. There was a little rust on its panels, but it was solid looking and made of steel. There was no way he’d be able to kick it down.

With a mental shrug, Matt raised his fist and pounded heavily on the door, which let out metallic echoing thuds. They were vampires, they would have heard him coming.

The door gave a long screech as a lanky dark-haired guy with close-set eyes—not a guy, a vampire—opened it. Acting on instinct, Matt moved fast.

One hard thrust from the stave in Matt’s hand, and the vampire staggered and fell, blood blooming red across his chest, his mouth open in a grimace of surprise. His eyes dimmed. He was dead, at least for the moment. Lucky hit. Matt knew with deadly certainty that his luck wasn’t going to last.

Matt stepped over the dead vampire and moved toward the next one, a slim blond girl with a short swinging bob.

She was just standing still, looking bewildered, as if events were happening too quickly for her to catch up. Beyond her, chained to the back wall of the warehouse, he glimpsed Jasmine and quickly looked away, his breath catching.

He couldn’t concentrate on the fight if he looked at her right now. He wouldn’t have much time before the vampires got over their surprise and their superior reflexes kicked in.

But maybe he could get past one more, maybe he could make his way to Jasmine. Please, he prayed silently, raising his stave again. Please. If I’m going to die, at least let me touch Jasmine again.

But as he moved toward the girl, a pair of strong arms, as unyielding as steel bands, wrapped around him from behind and pinned Matt’s arms to his sides.

He tried to struggle, but it was pointless; however much he strained, he couldn’t move at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall, thin vampire struggling to his feet, already beginning to recover. Giving in to despair, Matt sagged against his captor’s arms.

“Can you think of a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now?” Jack’s voice said, soft and low. His breath was warm against Matt’s ear, and Matt shuddered.

Jack squeezed him tighter, and Matt struggled to breathe. It was painful, the pressure of Jack’s arms compressing his ribs, slowly pressing the air from his lungs. Now that the fight was over, and he’d failed, just as he’d feared he would, he let himself look across the warehouse toward Jasmine for the first time.

Her arms were chained high above her head, her muscles taut with the strain, and she was looking straight back at him, her eyes shining with love. Tears ran down her cheeks, making long tracks through the dirt there. There were streaks of dried blood on the side of her throat. She gave Matt a tiny, tremulous smile, and his chest ached. He hadn’t saved her, and now she was trying to send him comfort.

“Take me instead,” Matt blurted out.

“What?” Jack sounded startled, and his arms loosened a fraction. Matt gasped in a quick breath.

“I’m better for your purposes than Jasmine is,” he said hurriedly. This was his only back-up plan, Jasmine’s only chance. He had to sell it. “I’m a better hostage. Elena and the others have known me longer, they’re more likely to trade Damon for me. You hunted with us. You know what I’m saying is true.”

Jack made a thoughtful humming noise in his throat, considering, and Matt clenched his teeth. This was the only way he could possibly save Jasmine, he realized, by throwing himself into the abyss. They were all watching him, five or six vampires, their eyes hostile. Everything was sharp and bright at the edges, and he wondered if he was going into shock.

Then Jack huffed, a short, amused sound. “Who says chivalry is dead?”

Fast enough so that the world blurred around him, Matt felt himself lifted and rushed across the warehouse. Jack slammed him back against the wall so hard that Matt was knocked breathless once more.

“Now, tell me why I shouldn’t keep you both?” Jack asked.

Matt felt sick. Jack wouldn’t really keep them both, would he? He gulped quickly, nervously. He had to think. “Jasmine has to tell the others what happened,” he said. “You won’t get Damon if they don’t need to trade for me. And you won’t get Damon if they think you can’t be trusted to trade me back. If you let her go, it’ll be a show of good faith.”

Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Good point. Sadie, get over here and unlock the cuffs.”

The blond girl hurried over and took the cuffs off Jasmine’s wrists, pulling her away from the wall. Jasmine was shaking, hard, and she reached out for Matt, her hands trembling. “Please…” she said, her voice strained. “Let me talk to him.”

Jack shoved Matt roughly into the place where Jasmine had been and began to lock the cuffs around his wrists, yanking his arms up with a vicious twist that made his shoulders burn. Matt grunted with pain. “Better get out while you can, sweetheart,” Jack said, indifferently, and pushed her away. “Sadie, take her home.”

As Sadie began to pull her away, Matt took one last look at Jasmine. Her beautiful liquid brown eyes were full of tears. Trying to fill his own gaze with all of his love and all the confidence he didn’t feel, Matt told her, “It’s all right. I’ll see you soon.”

Jasmine’s fingers brushed over his arm, featherlight, as Sadie pulled her away. At least they had touched one last time.