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

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 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 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 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 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.