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

Chapter 20

The street lamps threw pools of light onto the dark sidewalk, and Bonnie and Zander walked from shadow to light to shadow, hand in hand. The day had been hot, but in the fifteen minutes or so since they’d left Meredith and Alaric’s apartment, it had gotten chilly. It felt like it was going to rain, and Bonnie shivered.

She snuck a peek at Zander out of the corner of her eye as they went, but his face was shadowed, the lights shining off his white-blond hair, and she couldn’t read him.

“Poor Meredith,” she said, hesitantly. Why did she feel so awkward talking to him suddenly? This was Zander.

“Mmm-hmm,” Zander said, not looking at her. He was gazing straight ahead, intently, a tiny crease between his eyebrows, as if he was thinking hard.

He’d barely said anything at Meredith’s, hanging back when he should have been participating, helping. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—and closed it again. She squeezed his hand instead, but he didn’t seem to notice.

They turned and began to walk past the botanical gardens toward home. A breeze blew Bonnie’s hair across her face, and the warm smell of summer roses came through the fence, a heavy, seductive scent. It could have been such a romantic moment that tears rose in Bonnie’s eyes. On a night like this, everything should be perfect.

Bonnie stopped dead under a streetlight.

“What is it?” asked Zander, coming to a halt beside her.

“ ‘What is it?’ ” Bonnie mimicked. She was furious suddenly, adrenaline pumping through her. “You’ve been acting like a total weirdo for days! And now you’re not even talking to me?”

Zander blinked. “What?” His face was washed out by the pale light, his gorgeous blue eyes looking gray.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me!” Bonnie snapped. “God, Zander, I thought you were braver than just blowing me off. If you want to break up with me, just do it.” Hot tears were beginning to stream down her cheeks, and she could feel her nose starting to run. She was an ugly, messy crier, and she hated it. “You’re being a jerk,” she said thickly, letting go of Zander’s hand to wipe her eyes with her arm.

“Bonnie—no,” Zander sounded desperate. “I don’t want to break up with you. I—this isn’t the way I planned it.” He took her hand again, tightly, and pulled her farther down the sidewalk, then through the gate to the botanical garden.

The scent of the roses was even stronger here, almost dizzying. Leaves brushed against Bonnie’s arms as Zander led her to a bench beneath an arch of climbing white roses.

“What’s going on?” Bonnie asked, sitting down, wiping at her eyes again. Fallen rose petals dotted the bench, and she flicked some of them off. A soft rumble of thunder came from far away.

Zander dropped to his knees in the dirt at her feet. “I don’t want to break up with you, Bonnie. I want to marry you.”

All the air rushed out of Bonnie’s chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but all she could do was squeak. Yes. Yes.

She reached forward and pulled him toward her. Zander shuffled closer, still on his knees. Their lips met, and a warm thrill shot through her. Here you are. This was the Zander she’d been looking for, his lips quirking into a smile and his eyes wide and loving and fixed on her, seeing her again.

“Wait,” he said, breaking the kiss. “I’ve got—I’ve been carrying it around, waiting for the right time.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

It was a ring. An amazingly gorgeous ring, shiny and bright, one big round-cut glittering stone on a golden band. “Will you?” Zander asked, holding it out.

“Okay,” Bonnie said. She was still breathless, but she could speak now, and she was absolutely sure. She was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. There was nothing she wanted more than to marry Zander. “Okay. I’d love to marry you.”

She was purely, blindingly happy. And behind that white glow of joy was a contented planning hum: have to call my mom, bridesmaids—Elena and Meredith and my sisters all look good in blue, big fluffy white dress.

But Zander didn’t slide the ring onto her finger. He stayed on his knees looking up at her. “I need to tell you something first.” He licked his lips nervously and reached out to take her hand again. “The Pack has to leave Dalcrest. I want you to come with us.”

Bonnie felt her mouth drop into an O of surprise. “What? Come where?”

Running his free hand through his hair, Zander sighed and sat back on his heels. “I’ve tried to find a way out of it. I didn’t want to have to tell you unless it was definite. I appealed to the High Wolf Council, but they said we’d been here a lot longer than they’d originally planned. They’ve cut me a lot of slack because I’m the Alpha and I wanted to stay, but now they say there’s trouble in Colorado and they want us there.”

“There’s trouble here!” Bonnie said indignantly.

“I know. But it’s Pack stuff. In the end, I’m sworn to them, and I have to do what they say. The whole Pack has to go where we’re needed.” He squeezed her hand tightly and looked back up at her, his eyes pleading. “Come with us. Marry me. I don’t want to lose you, Bonnie.”

Bonnie couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t with the happy surprise of a few moments ago. Instead her throat seemed to be closing up. She felt like she was going to die.

Colorado. Colorado was really far away.

The first tiny drops of rain hit her arms, one cold drop and then another. Wind blew through the rose arch and showered damp white petals down over Bonnie. One hit her face, a delicate blow, and she peeled it off her own cheek, soft and wilted.

It was beginning to rain more steadily, and the cold raindrops loosened Bonnie’s tongue and let her start thinking again. “I can’t. Zander, I can’t.” He was staring at her, his eyelashes wet with rain. “I love you, but how could I leave here with everything that’s going on? Meredith’s a vampire. Stefan’s dead. My friends need me here.”

Zander leaned closer, put a hand on Bonnie’s knee to steady himself. “I need you,” he said softly, almost whispering.

Rain plastered Bonnie’s hair against her forehead and ran down her cheeks, feeling almost like tears. “Please, Zander, I can’t.”

Zander’s eyes closed for a second, long pale eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, and then he opened his eyes, let go of her hand, and stood. “I understand,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll go tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to make things tense for everybody. Some of the guys can stay and patrol for a few days, until Damon and Elena are back.” Standing above her, he seemed impossibly tall. Bonnie couldn’t get a good look at his face, but his hands were clenched tightly. He backed away from her for a few steps, then turned and headed for the gate out of the botanical gardens, walking slowly with his head down.

Water was running down her arms, soaking her clothes. A white rose petal clung limply to the back of her hand, and Bonnie stared at it numbly, seeing the curve at its base, the line of brown at its edge. There was a terrible ache in her chest. Bonnie realized she was feeling her heart break.

Chapter 21

It had rained all night and through the day, and now it was late afternoon, the cloudy gray sky gradually getting darker. Damon drove his gleaming black car down the highway and let his Power loose around him, trying to sense if anything supernatural lurked in the woods on either side of the road. There was nothing, just the gentle hum of nondescript human minds from the cars on the road and the towns they swept by.

“There’s just a trace,” Elena said from the passenger seat beside him. She leaned forward and peered out through the windshield. “It’s very faint, but I think she kept heading north.”

They’d been on the road all day. Elena swore they were following slight signs of Siobhan’s aura. Damon couldn’t see them himself, but he trusted her. She’d always been clever. Terribly, frighteningly young, but clever. And he could feel her intentness coming through the bond between them, the careful way she scanned their environment, her excitement when she caught a glimpse of Siobhan’s aura trail. Sitting so close to her, he was more aware of her emotions than ever.

And now he was feeling something else from her. Hunger. He was about to comment, when she stretched, and said, “Let’s get something to eat.”

Damon felt his mouth twitch up into the beginnings of a smile—he’d read her so well—and he took the next exit. He drove a little farther, until they came to a likely looking diner. They pulled into the parking lot and climbed out, glancing up at the sullen glow of the low-hanging sun through the clouds. It would be evening soon, and it didn’t feel like they were getting much closer to their goal.

Crossing to the other side of the car, he opened Elena’s door for her. “Come on, princess,” he said. “The quest will wait while you have a cheeseburger.”

Inside the diner, gingham tablecloths covered each table, folk art pictures of roosters and ducks hung on the walls, and a child’s toy—an Etch-a-Sketch, Magic 8 Ball, or game—sat on each table.

“Aw, this is charming,” Elena said as the waitress, wearing a ruffled apron, led them to a table for two.

“The word you’re looking for is cloying,” Damon told her. The waitress glanced back at him, and he shot her a blinding smile.

Elena ordered a sandwich and iced tea, but Damon didn’t feel like eating. Human food gave him no nourishment, and there was nothing on the menu he was in the mood to sample. There was a low ache of hunger in his stomach, though, and he ran his tongue over his sensitive canines. He could last a little longer before he hunted, he supposed. He wasn’t desperate enough yet for fur or feathers in his mouth. “Just coffee, please,” he told the waitress.

“Want to play checkers while we wait?” Elena asked, stacking the red and black pieces across the miniature game board sitting on their table.

“Checkers?” Damon said with slight distaste.

“Sure, it’ll be fun.” Elena said. Damon hesitated for a split second, and Elena’s eyes widened. “You don’t know how to play checkers?”

“You’d be amazed how often it doesn’t come up,” Damon said dryly.

“Still,” Elena said. “You’re more than five hundred years old. You never learned? Five-year-olds can play checkers.”

“They didn’t when I was five,” Damon snapped. He felt ridiculously embarrassed—it wasn’t like he wanted to play a child’s game. “I can play chess.”

“I suppose that is much more suave and creature-of-the-night,” Elena agreed thoughtfully. “Come on, let me show you. Checkers is easy.”

There was a teasing glow in her eyes, and Damon couldn’t resist her. The checkers clicked together as she stacked them, and he took a moment to bask in the warmth coming through the bond between them. She still loved Stefan, he knew it, but she cared for Damon, too. “Go ahead,” he told her. “Whatever you want.”

Elena shot him a quick, triumphant grin. “Okay,” she said brightly, laying the checkers out on the board between them, black ones in front of Damon, red ones in front of herself. “So, you move diagonally forward, only on the dark squares. And if you’re next to one of my pieces and there’s an empty space on the other side, you can jump over it, and capture it. When you get to my side of the board, your piece gets kinged and can move forward and backward. You win if you get all my pieces off the board.”

“I see.” Damon sat back and regarded the board thoughtfully, pushing back the little swell of glee inside him so that Elena wouldn’t feel it through their bond. This game was just Alquerque, which had already been old when he was a child, only played on a chessboard. “I think I can handle it.”

Elena went first, and Damon bided his time for several moves. Then she jumped two of his pieces, sitting back with a smirk. “And that’s how you do it,” she said, pleased with herself.

“Impressive,” Damon said coolly, eyeing a hole she’d left in her defenses. Instead of taking advantage, he ignored the opening and moved another piece forward.

It was good to see Elena enjoying herself for a moment. She’d been too sad for too long. Maybe, Damon thought. Maybe someday she’ll get over Stefan. It was a betrayal of his little brother, but he couldn’t help the flush of hope the thought gave him. After all, Damon had all the time in the world to wait.

“You’ll get it,” Elena said encouragingly, taking another one of his pieces. “Checkers isn’t hard, I promise.” There was a smug little curl at the edge of her lips.

“Indeed,” Damon said. He could hear the waitress at the counter behind him, smell the warm salt of Elena’s fries. Lunch was ready. He leaned forward and jumped four of her men with a satisfying series of clicks. “King me.”

Elena blinked at the board, and Damon let a smile spread over his face. “You must be a wonderful teacher,” he told her.

Elena’s cheeks were prettily flushed, and she glanced up at him through her lashes as they crossed the parking lot together. Her arm pressed against his, and Damon was gloriously aware of the heat coming off her silky skin.

“You’re a quick learner,” she commented. “I can’t believe you won every game.”

Damon vaguely noted a few figures at the edge of the parking lot, looking toward them, and checked absently—human, harmless—his attention fixed on Elena. He watched as they got into their car and drove away. He’d been right: human.

“My life’s been long enough—” he began, and then a heavy body slammed into him, low and hard, knocking the breath out of him.

Vampires.

Damon hit the ground and rolled, grappling with the synthetic vampire above him. His back scraped painfully against the asphalt of the parking lot. A heavy, dark-skinned, muscular man, older than most of Jack’s protégés, snarled down at him, his teeth sharp and glaringly white against his skin.

“Damon!” Elena shouted.

The vampire pressed forward, his teeth scraping at Damon’s throat, and Damon yanked away. The vampire’s body was warm, as warm as a human’s, and his breath was hot and fetid, like something rotten. Damon shoved at him, trying to get some leverage to snap his neck. But his weight was too much—his canines sank into Damon’s throat, tearing at it.

The bite burned like fire, and Damon thrashed, trying to get free.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught more movement. Another vampire. Two vampires. No.

With a fresh surge of strength, Damon struggled harder, rolling over and slamming the larger vampire down against the asphalt of the parking lot. He needed to get up before the other two got to Elena. Maybe they couldn’t kill her, not with their bite, but they could take her, and Jack knew Elena’s secret. It was unlikely that she’d be able to raise her Guardian Powers against them—they weren’t her target, and she had no time to coax her Power to the surface.

He and the artificial vampire were gripping each other tight now, straining against each other. The other vampire’s muscles bulged with effort. Slowly, his teeth gritted, Damon forced his opponent’s arms back down and pinned them against the pavement, enjoying the expression of shock on his face.

He snapped the other vampire’s neck quickly and watched as his eyes glazed over. That would keep him down for a little while. Damon leaped gracefully to his feet.

As he turned, he heard a heavy thump. Behind him, a tall light-haired vampire had fallen at Elena’s feet, a stake protruding from his chest. The third vampire, a woman, hesitated, staring at Elena.

Before the fallen recovered, Damon took two long steps over and snapped her neck quickly. “That’ll knock her out longer than the stake,” he told Elena, and bent to snap the neck of the third vampire as well.

“We’d better get out of here while we can,” Elena said. She bent to tug her stake, with an audible huff of effort, from the tall vampire’s chest. Efficiently, she wiped it on a tissue and tucked the stake back into her purse.

“Nicely done,” Damon said, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t seem frightened, and there was nothing but adrenaline-fueled excitement and a certain smug pleasure coming through their bond. “You don’t need too much protecting, do you, Guardian?” Elena smirked at him, and he felt her spark of pride.

Then her face fell. The pride shifted to shock, then fear. “You’re hurt,” she said.

“Oh,” Damon said, reaching up to touch the bite. The blood was still trickling down his neck, hot and painful. He’d forgotten for a moment in his concern for Elena. “I’m all right.”

“No,” Elena said. “Come here.” She leaned back against the side of the car and pulled open the neck of her shirt, brushing back her hair from her throat. She cocked her head invitingly.

He could see the delicate veins beneath her skin, and his breath caught. Elena would be so soft, he knew, her neck like warm satin beneath his lips and teeth. And her blood was rich and sweet.

“Hurry,” she said urgently. “They’ll be waking up soon.”

Damon wanted. He really did.

But he swallowed and dragged his eyes away from her, licking his lips.

When he’d fed from her before, she’d turned away from him. She hadn’t wanted him to see inside her mind, hadn’t wanted him any closer than the bond between them already brought them.

He didn’t just want her blood. When he drank from Elena, he didn’t want it to be about food.

“No thank you, princess,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t be chivalrous, Damon,” Elena said, irritated. “You need this.”

Damon stared down at his feet. “Better not,” he said. “We need to get going.” He took a quick breath, and then looked up at Elena again, shooting her his most brilliant smile. “I really am perfectly fine. It’s healing already.” He brought his hand up to his neck, and found that it was true: The bite was messy and painful, but the wound was clotting.

Before she could argue, he opened his car door and reached over to unlock hers. Once they were in, he pulled out, tires squealing. The false vampires were already beginning to stir.

Elena felt a bit petulant, he thought, cautiously checking their bond—his princess liked everyone to fall in line with her plans—and he concentrated on shutting down the connection between them, trying to broadcast only thoughts about the road ahead.

He didn’t know if she could feel the small bitter ache in his chest, but he surrounded it with layers of don’t ask and private and hoped she would mind her own business.

“You’re being an idiot,” Elena told him sharply. Damon winced and didn’t answer. The warmth that had echoed through their bond earlier was gone.

He couldn’t bear to drink from her anymore.

It was an exquisite torture, tasting her sweetness, reaching out for her mind, her soul—only to have Elena pull away. Sharing blood like that should be for lovers, the most intimate connection there was.

Damon was tired of letting himself pretend. Stefan—his irritating, noble, beloved little brother—was dead, but he still occupied Elena’s heart. And if Damon couldn’t have that place, if that part of Elena was going to be closed to him, he had to let it go.

Chapter 22

“Let’s get just one more vial,” Jasmine coaxed, and Meredith held out her arm.

“Don’t you think you’ve taken enough blood today?” Matt asked, his forehead crinkling with concern. “You’re turning her into a pincushion.”

“It’s fine,” Meredith said tiredly. She hadn’t fed properly for days—just the occasional bird or beast—and her jaw ached. She felt slightly sick, and the smell of the blood flowing beneath Matt and Jasmine’s skin made her lightheaded. She blinked and tried to focus on what they were saying, which had been much easier when she was with Jack and the others. The regular human blood diet had kept her sharp.

Maybe Jasmine could hook her up with blood from the hospital.

Tightening her lips, Meredith shook her head sharply. She could control her cravings.

She had to remember what this was all about. Jasmine was going to find a cure. Meredith didn’t need access to stolen blood—she needed to be human again.

Jasmine drew blood from Meredith’s arm and took a few drops into a pipette to put into a blocky white machine. “I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “I’ve separated your blood out in the ultracentrifuge, and I’ve tried electrophoresis, and analyzed it every way I could think of. I can see that there are differences, and I can get some information on how you’ve changed, but I just don’t know what Jack did to make it happen.”

“Doesn’t his journal tell you?” Matt asked, picking up the leather-bound book and flipping through its pages. Damon had lent it to Jasmine to help with her research.

Jasmine’s mouth scrunched. “It’s big on the effects he observed, but he doesn’t really detail the exact procedures he used to get there. It’s not a scientific journal.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember more,” Meredith told her. “But it was all like a dream. He injected me with hypodermics, and it took several nights. I think I was under pretty strong sedation, but sometimes I’d wake up and see him standing over me.” Meredith shuddered. “Some of the injections went in at the base of my skull, he wasn’t lying about that, and some went into my arm. And he operated. I remember a scalpel, and other medical instruments.” Matt was staring at her in horror.

Jasmine looked at Meredith apologetically. “I can keep running the same tests and see if there’s something I missed. But I’m not sure how much I’m going to find.” Her eyes shone with tears.

“I understand—” Meredith began, but Matt was already moving forward to wrap his arms around Jasmine.

“It’s okay,” he said, pressing Jasmine’s head against his shoulder. “We won’t give up.”

Meredith stood back and watched them, feeling uncomfortably out of place as Matt lightly kissed the side of Jasmine’s head. Their hearts were beating in time, she could hear them, a steady rhythm.

Was she ever going to be like that again? Would she and Alaric, whom she loved so much, ever be simple and wholly human together?

Probably not. Meredith swallowed hard, tasting bitterness. She wasn’t going to let herself think that way. Jasmine and Bonnie. Science and magic. Maybe they could fix her, make her herself again.

She had to get out of there. Muttering a quick excuse, she swung out of the room, past their startled faces.

Keeping herself carefully to human speed, Meredith made her way toward the hospital exit. She could smell warm, fresh blood all around her, and her throat felt dry and tight. She walked a little faster.

Bursting out through the doors into the hospital parking lot, Meredith realized she was panting. The sun was shining brightly, and she squinted against the glare. She’d go to her car and go out to the woods and drink from a bird or a rabbit, she decided. She needed blood. Without it, she was weak and dizzy, and her emotions were swooping out of control. She felt like crying all the time.

At the far end of the parking lot, there was someone leaning against her car.

Jack.

Meredith slid her hand into her pocket and wrapped it around the cool wood of a stake, her heart pounding. If she could stake Jack, get him down long enough to snap his neck, maybe she could capture him.

Or maybe he was going to kill her first.

He had seen her, was watching her calmly. There was no point in running away, even if she wanted to. Meredith walked slowly across the parking lot toward him. She felt weirdly relaxed. Maybe she was going to die now. Did it matter? Really, she was already dead, wasn’t she? In all the ways that counted.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jack said when she got close enough. He held his hands out, loose and open, nonthreatening.

“Oh, yeah?” Meredith halted a few feet away from him. “Good to know.”

“I worked far too hard on you to just waste it all.” The corners of Jack’s eyes crinkled as he gave his familiar affable grin. “Plus, I’m rather fond of you, despite your betrayal.”

Something inside Meredith curdled, thick and sour. He was fond of her? Jack had destroyed her.

“So, let me make you a deal.” Jack boosted himself up to sit on the hood of Meredith’s car, perfectly relaxed. “Bring me Damon Salvatore and I’ll forgive you. The whole thing, erased. You can come back to us, back where you belong. You know living with humans isn’t working.”

Meredith froze, glaring at him. Did Jack really think that, after everything, she wanted to be one of them?

Jack paused, looking at her with his bright, inquisitive brown eyes, and then shook his head. “Take the deal, Meredith,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll come after your friends. I always get what I want.”

“Go to hell,” Meredith snarled. She clutched the stake in her pocket and gauged the distance between them, her muscles tensing. He was so relaxed on the car’s hood, not alert to danger. If she moved fast enough…

Jack smiled at her, his big, beautiful, warm smile. “Go to hell?” he echoed, his tone light. “This whole world is hell, Meredith, you should know that by now. The only choice is whether you’re a demon or a victim.”

His grin widened, and he leaned back on his hands, turning his face up to the sun. “You know which side you’re on, don’t you?”

Now. Yanking the stake from her pocket, Meredith lunged at him.

And, suddenly, Jack moved so fast that all she saw was a blur. Her hair lifted in the breeze as he passed.

He was gone.

Chapter 23

Dear Diary,

I shouldn’t be enjoying anything about this.

We’re in serious trouble. Jack won’t stop sending his vampires after us until either we kill him or he kills Damon. He’s powerful and relentless, and I know how intelligent he is—he fooled us all.

When I close my eyes, sometimes I see Damon falling, a stake through his chest, and it feels so real. I can see the pain in the tight lines of Damon’s body, the blood streaming from the wound. Agony rips through me—I’m losing something I thought was mine, that I thought was forever.

It feels just like when Stefan died.

Our search for Siobhan is the slenderest of leads. I should be panicking. Damon is in terrible danger.

And I should be grieving for Stefan just as hard as I was a month ago.

Nothing has changed. If anything, things have gotten worse.

And yet…

Elena glanced up from her journal toward the driver’s seat.

Damon was driving, his long, strong fingers curled around the wheel, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. He was so beautiful, Elena thought, examining the fine bones under his flawless pale skin, the soft curve of his mouth, the straight line of his nose. He glanced at her, and his lips curled into a brief smile before his eyes went back to the road. A pulse of affection went through the bond between them, and Elena wasn’t sure whom it had come from.

Damon hums when he doesn’t know I’m listening, she wrote, turning back to her journal. Tunes I don’t recognize, dances and holy music from the long centuries he lived in Europe, but other things, too: the ballet music Margaret dances to, old Beatles songs, pop from the radio.

Even though he technically died centuries ago, Damon’s more alive than most people. I remember what Stefan said, back when he first told me their story.

After they rose and realized what they had become, Stefan ran, horrified, far beyond the city gates, preying on animals for fear of harming humans. Damon joined a band of mercenaries, fighting his way across Europe, drinking human blood amid the slaughter and confusion of battle.

Stefan made the noble choice. Damon was wicked, then. But Stefan held himself apart from humanity, caring too much to endanger them by coming close. Damon was right there in the thick of it, always, and it’s kept him almost human, tangled up with our warm bodies and complicated, messy emotions.

I loved Stefan so much, with all my heart. I still love him. I’ll never stop.

Damon is flawed and quick tempered and selfish. He’s as likely to do the wrong thing as he is the right one.

Damon and I are more alike than Stefan and I ever were. I’m spoiled and headstrong, and I want everyone to fall in line with my plans. The worst things anyone ever said about me are sometimes true.

And despite everything—despite Jack, and poor Meredith, and everyone depending on the slimmest chance that we’re following the right lead here—I’m having fun. It feels easy and natural, gliding along the roads together, hunting for Siobhan.

This isn’t the first time we’ve traveled like this. When Stefan was missing, imprisoned in the Dark Dimension, we looked for him together. And it was fun then, too.

But then, Stefan was waiting for me. Now he’s gone. We’re going to avenge Stefan, not save him. It’s too late for that.

Elena’s breath hitched, and she tightened her jaw. She wasn’t going to cry again, not now. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Damon glance toward her and then his hand, cool and reassuring, brushed her shoulder. Elena sniffed and looked back down at her journal.

Would it be so wrong? If Damon and I stopped fighting these feelings we’ve always had for each other?

I made up my mind. I chose Stefan, and I’ve never regretted it.

But now he’s gone, and I’m going to live forever. Alone forever. I can’t help panicking every time I think of it.

I could turn to Damon. I’m not going to lie to myself about that. I can have him, if I want him. If I stopped holding myself back, I could fall into his arms, and I know he’d catch me.

But I don’t know if I can. For years, my feelings for Damon tainted what Stefan and I had. It hurt Stefan that I loved Damon, too.

Would turning to Damon now be my last, worst betrayal of Stefan?

Elena looked up again. Damon was humming to himself, softly. His eyes, fixed on the road, had a faraway look.

Something in her chest turned over, a tight, uncomfortable feeling. Elena realized that, for maybe the first time ever, she had no idea what she wanted.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t have any suggestions.” Mrs. Flowers sipped at her tea, holding the delicate china cup carefully. “Vampires created by science are a little outside my area of expertise. All I can recommend is increasing your use of the protection spells you already know. Try to keep your friends safe.”

Bonnie nodded. It had been a long shot, anyway, expecting her old friend to have a suggestion. But it just felt natural to come back to Fell’s Church and ask Mrs. Flowers, who had taught her so much of her magic, for advice.

Since Bonnie had broken up with Zander, she’d thrown herself into trying to find a way to help Meredith and to protect them all from Jack and his minions. It had made her feel a little better, helped her to avoid thinking about how empty her apartment was, how empty her big bed was.

How empty her heart was.

Mrs. Flowers was looking older and frailer than the last time they had seen each other, Bonnie realized with a pang. Her hand, pale and thin and spotted with age, shook as she placed her cup back on the table. A little tea sloshed into the saucer.

“Now tell me, Bonnie,” Mrs. Flowers said, fixing Bonnie with sharp blue eyes that were not in the least dimmed by age. “What else is bothering you?”

Bonnie fumbled for a reply. “Well, Meredith…”

“Not Meredith. Meredith’s problem is the same as the vampire problem. There’s something else.”

Bonnie heard herself give a funny, half-choked laugh. Mrs. Flowers had always been able to read Bonnie’s emotions.

“It’s Zander,” she said, as a hot tear ran down her cheek. “He’s left me.”

With that, the dam broke and she burst into sobs. By the time the frantic storm of tears stopped, Bonnie found herself sitting on the floor, her head in Mrs. Flowers’s lap as the old lady made soft tutting noises and stroked her hair. Mrs. Flowers’s dress smelled of lavender, and Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to care that she was probably staining it with tears and snot—it was amazingly comforting.

“Tell me everything,” Mrs. Flowers said, and Bonnie blurted out the whole story: Zander’s strange disconnectedness and the way Bonnie had finally confronted him about it; how he had proposed in the warm, fragrant rose garden and how Bonnie had said no, even though it broke her heart. That Zander was gone now, and that Bonnie ached with loneliness without him. That the few werewolves he had left behind to temporarily guard Dalcrest looked away, their faces stony, when they saw her now, and that Bonnie couldn’t blame them. Of course they hated her—she’d hurt their Alpha.

“But I had to,” Bonnie said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her eyes. “Didn’t I? I have to put my friends first right now. They need me.”

Mrs. Flowers sighed and sat very still for a moment, gazing off into the distance. Then she rose, resting one hand on the table as she shuffled toward the living room. “I want to show you something,” she said. “Wait here.”

After a moment, she returned, a framed picture in hand. Bonnie recognized it as one she’d seen before, sitting on the mantelpiece in the living room. A black-and-white photograph of a handsome young man in uniform. His dark hair was close cropped, and his eyes were pale, probably blue. His face was serious, but there was a natural curve at the corners of his mouth that suggested he had a sense of humor.

“He looks nice,” Bonnie said, scrubbing her hand against her face again. She felt exhausted and longed to just lie down on Mrs. Flowers’s floor and take a nice long nap. “Who is he?”

“William Flowers.” Mrs. Flowers gazed down at the picture, her smile soft and sad. “Bill.”

“Your husband?” Bonnie asked, peering at the picture with fresh interest.

Mrs. Flowers sighed again, a soft, almost soundless exhalation of breath, and shook her head. “Not quite, although I took his name,” she said. “He was my sweetheart. We grew up together and fell in love. It felt like it was meant to be. We laughed so much together, knew each other so well. Understood each other without having to try. I thought we’d go on like that forever.”

“So what happened?” Bonnie scrambled up off the floor, settling herself into the chair next to her mentor.

“We were engaged. And then he was drafted.” Mrs. Flowers passed a hand over her eyes. “I was so afraid of losing him. He wanted to get married before he went overseas, but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t start our married life with him in danger. And then he was killed in action. I lost everything.”

Bonnie gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Mrs. Flowers’s wise, calm face crumpled in well-remembered pain. “I spent years trying to contact him from beyond the veil. I wanted him to know how much I loved him. I tried everything: Séances, working with mediums, wandering the no man’s land between the living and the dead, inducing visions… nothing worked. Some people, when they die, pass out of our reach.”

“We couldn’t reach Stefan,” Bonnie said, feeling achingly sad.

“Come outside with me.” Mrs. Flowers rose stiffly and led the way out the kitchen door into her herb garden, moving more quickly than she had earlier.

It was warm and bright outside, and Bonnie automatically tipped her head back to feel the sun on her face. Mrs. Flowers led her through the winding paths of her herb garden. “Let’s see what you remember,” she said. “Tell me about this herb bed.”

“Oh. Um.” Bonnie scanned the plants. “Marjoram. For healing. And for cooking. Amaranth, also known as love-lies-bleeding. For healing and protection. Celandine, or swallow’s wort, for happiness.”

“Very good, I see you haven’t abandoned your training. And the bush next to them?”

The bush had long green leaves and cascading purple flowers, each made of a round spray of thin petals. “Pretty,” Bonnie said. “But I don’t know what it is.”

Mrs. Flowers picked one of the blossoms and sniffed it. “Mimosa, my dear. It’s for joy rising from sorrow. Second chances.” Smiling, she passed the flower to Bonnie, and Bonnie automatically brought it up to her face and sniffed. It smelled clean and fresh. “Sometimes, Bonnie, true love is worth fighting for,” Mrs. Flowers said gently.

Bonnie held the flower carefully, but her heart felt as heavy as a stone. Mrs. Flowers had loved her Bill, and despite everything, had lost him anyway. Mimosa or not, it was hard to believe that joy could come from sorrow.

Chapter 24

Matt shifted the two full bags of groceries he carried, balancing one against his hip as he dug his key to Jasmine’s building out of his pocket.

A little thrill of satisfaction shot through him as he twisted the key in the lock. They’d only exchanged keys last week, and it felt really important, another sign that they were all in, really and truly committed to being part of each other’s lives. Jasmine had kissed him hard, her lips firm and sure against his, after she pressed her keys into his palm, and it had been the best moment of a very tough week.

Jasmine had been stressing out. She’d run every test she could think of on Meredith’s blood but was still coming up empty.

He clumped up the stairs, swinging the bags and thinking about how a nice dinner might help Jasmine feel better. Stuffing the chicken with thyme, lemon, and garlic, he thought, would give it a nice flavor. And wine might help her relax. Matt was humming as he reached the top of the stairs and turned toward Jasmine’s apartment.

The door was hanging wide open.

Matt dropped his bags, hearing the wine bottle inside one of the bags smash, and ran toward it, his heart pounding. He barreled through the front door and stopped dead, horrified.

Jasmine’s living room had been trashed. The velvety-soft sofa was flipped over and disemboweled. The weavings she’d put on the walls were ripped down, her tables knocked over and broken.

“Jasmine?” Matt called, breaking out of his shock. He raced down the hall, checking the other rooms.

The kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom were more of the same, everything smashed and broken. The closet door had been ripped off, clothes trailing out as if someone had tried to hold onto them while being yanked out of the closet. “Jasmine!”

His phone rang. JASMINE, the display read. Thank God. She was okay. She would have some explanation. Tension flowed out of him, his shoulders relaxing.

“Where are you?” Matt answered the phone. “Are you okay?”

A low, warm, familiar chuckle. Not Jasmine’s. Everything went fuzzy around the edges, and Matt swayed on his feet, lightheaded. Jack.

“I’m fine,” Jack said. “Your girlfriend seems a little nervous, though.”

“You—” Matt clenched his teeth, snapping things back into focus. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her,” he spat.

Jack laughed again. “You can’t, can you?” he asked. “You know, I didn’t really get to know Jasmine back when you and I were hanging around together. I can see why you like her. She’s pretty tasty, isn’t she?” He moved the phone, and Matt heard a soft whimper.

“Jasmine?” he said, straining to hear. “Honey, be strong. It’ll be all right.” His pulse was pounding, his hands sweating. He couldn’t think.

“She’s fine,” Jack said. “For now.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” Matt said. “I’ll do anything you want.” He felt sick and dizzy. Not Jasmine, he prayed, not good, strong Jasmine, who’d been outside all of this, safe—until Matt brought her in.

“I want Damon,” Jack said, his voice suddenly cold and tight. “Bring me Damon, and I’ll let your girlfriend go.”

Chapter 25

“She’s got to be somewhere. Siobhan can’t have gotten away from us.” Elena had her hands balled into fists, pressed against her temples. She was concentrating hard, her pretty face twisted. “If I could just find her…”

“Calm down,” Damon told her as he steered the car down the highway, still heading north. It seemed as good a direction as any, although Elena had lost Siobhan’s trail earlier that day. “We’ll pull into the next motel we see. You need a good night’s rest. It’ll come back to you.”

The sun was setting, throwing long shadows across the road. If Elena ate and rested, maybe she’d be able to find her Power again.

He was having trouble, too. Anxiety radiated through their bond, making him jittery. Elena was in pain, her head aching, her muscles tense, and that made Damon hurt, too. He longed to pull her against him and stroke her soft golden hair, to press her face against his shoulder and hold her until she calmed.

“We can’t stop,” Elena said firmly. “There’s no time.” She leaned back against the window and shut her eyes, making little huffing noises as she drew in breaths through her nose, then let them out through her mouth.

Damon knew she was trying to force her Guardian Powers to the surface. They were strong, but fickle, these Powers. Even when she was working on a Guardian task, like now, she couldn’t always rely on them.

Ridiculous Celestial Guardians. They wielded huge Powers themselves, more than any vampire or witch, but they meted out tiny bits of Power to the Earthly Guardians like drips from a faucet. Damon had to wonder: Did the Celestial Guardians want to keep Earthly Guardians like Elena weak and dependent on them? Or were their own Powers on Earth limited?

In any case, it made no difference now. The important thing was Elena.

“Listen,” he said, and reached out to stroke her arm, gently reassuring her. “You’re strong as hell, princess. The strongest person I’ve ever met. You’ll do this stubborn and bull-headed, just like you’ve done everything else the whole time I’ve known you.”

He gave her his most blinding grin, and something softened in Elena’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, her gaze so deeply blue, as blue as the lapis lazuli that let Damon walk in sunlight.

Something in his chest tightened, and he felt it tug toward Elena, as sure as a magnet. They were breathing in time, he realized, their chests rising and falling in perfect accord. He couldn’t resist her anymore.

He didn’t want to resist. Elena was all he wanted, all he needed. She had been since the first time he saw her, a pretty high school girl in the morning sunshine, all pink and gold and flushed with the warmth of life. Since the first time his mind brushed hers, and he realized she was more than that: strong and fierce, stubborn and proud. Perfect for him.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, Damon slid closer. Elena didn’t back away, but held his gaze, her blue eyes almost challenging. She wanted this; he could feel that want burning through their bond. Gently, holding his breath, he pressed his lips to hers.

Her lips were impossibly soft and warm, the softest thing he’d ever felt. Damon’s eyes closed and he leaned closer, cupping her cheek with one hand. The connection between them throbbed with hot energy, with desire. His fingers tangled in her silky hair, and he pulled her closer still.

He could feel their auras blending. It was as if they were melting into each other. He could almost see them, the way Elena had described their auras to him, his peacock blue and rust-red, hers a soft gold. They were entwining—he could feel it. They were stronger like this, better together.

Damon thought briefly of his brother, then pushed the thought away. Stefan was gone. And Damon and Elena remained. He stroked Elena’s cheek, ran his hand over her shoulders, down her arm. She was his, he knew it as surely as he’d ever known anything. They belonged to each other.

And then, a sharp, hard jerk. All over, he felt exposed, strained. Something pulled at him, a brisk, insistent tug.

With a muffled gasp against Elena’s mouth, Damon realized she was drawing his aura into hers, his peacock blue slowly shading to gold. Her aura was growing bigger, brighter.

It hurt, a little, but it was somehow thrilling. The steady, draining pull made him lightheaded, made him sigh against her lips. Was this how it felt for her when he’d fed on her?

Just as when he’d fed on her, this was love, he was sure of it.

Damon tangled both hands in Elena’s hair, silken strands between his fingers, and tried to push his aura toward her, to give her whatever she needed.

Elena pulled away slowly and Damon sat back, drained and relaxed. His head was swimming. They stared at each other, and Elena licked her lips quickly, just a brief slide of her tongue.

“West,” she said.

“What?” Damon asked. His heart was pounding, slow and heavy, and it was an effort to speak.

“I see it now,” Elena said. “She went west.”

Shaking himself back into alertness, Damon started the engine. “We can turn west on I-64,” he said, his mouth dry. “About half a mile.”

“Good,” Elena said. She was looking straight ahead through the windshield. Damon checked the connection between them, but Elena was locked down tight. All he got was an intent concentration on the road ahead. Whatever else she was thinking, she wasn’t letting herself feel it, not yet. She wasn’t going to let him in.

Tentatively, he reached across the seat between them, his hand palm up, waiting for her hand to clasp his.

Elena did not take his hand.

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.

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 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 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.