The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unmasked

by L. J. Smith

  He didn’t know where he was going. But there had to be something Damon could do, somewhere he could go to help Elena. He’d lost everyone. Everyone he’d ever truly cared for was dead. He wasn’t going to say good-bye to Elena—not now, not ever. He wasn’t going to lose her.

  “I love you, Damon,” Elena whispered.

  He couldn’t hear her. None of them could hear her. Most of the time she couldn’t hear them, either, just enough to get the fleeting impression of tears and whispers and arguments. She couldn’t understand more than a word or two, sometimes just enough to recognize a voice.

  She thought she’d heard Damon. But she had to admit there was the possibility she’d imagined it, that she was imagining all the familiar distant voices, just to keep herself company.

  She was dying. She must be. There had been that terrible pain, Mylea had appeared, and then Elena had found herself in this place of emptiness.

  Elena had hoped for a while that she might find Stefan. She’d seen his ghost, she knew his consciousness still lingered somewhere, but the place she was in now didn’t feel like any kind of spectral realm. She’d given up looking for Stefan when it became clear that there was no one here except Elena.

  A soft gray light shone all around her, just enough to illuminate what seemed like a fog. It felt like a fog, too. She was surrounded by a damp chill.

  She’d walked for miles, but nothing changed. She might not have believed she was moving at all, except for the ache in her feet. When she stopped and stood still, the fog was just the same.

  Elena clenched her fists and glared into the gray nothingness. She wasn’t going to let this happen. She wasn’t going to lie down and die, just because the Celestial Guardians wanted her to.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Hey! I’m still here!” Her words sounded muffled to her own ears, as if she was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton. “Let me out!” she shouted, trying to get louder, fiercer. Somebody had to be in charge here, and she would get their attention and make them let her go.

  Elena’s stomach jolted nervously. What if no one ever responded? She couldn’t stay here forever. The moment she thought this, finally, something changed. The fog drew back, and a sunlit road appeared.

  Elena recognized the street. If she ignored the banks of gray nothingness on either side, it was the road that led to the house she had grown up in, back in Fell’s Church. She recognized a long crack in the asphalt, the short grass growing at the edge of the road. But she hadn’t lived there for years, not since that final year of high school. Stefan had bought it for her before he died, but she had been able to bring herself to visit only once.

  Elena had a sudden, almost physical longing to walk down the path, to feel the sunlight on her shoulders, smell the summer scent of just-cut grass. As she watched, the sunshine intensified at the far end of the road, glowing so brightly Elena had to squint.

  It was pulling her toward it, a steady, warm tug somewhere in the middle of her chest. There was peace down that road, she knew.

  No. She stepped back, away from the road. They weren’t going to trap her so easily.

  “Walk into the light?” she shouted, suddenly furious. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  The longing only increased. At the end of that road, she was sure, was almost everything she had ever wanted. Stefan, alive again, his leaf-green eyes shining with excitement at seeing her. Her parents, just as young and happy as they’d been when they died. Elena could almost see their welcoming faces, and it made her ache with love and loneliness.

  Unwillingly, she raised a foot, ready to step forward, and then forced herself still.

  “No,” she said, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard and steadied it, then spoke again more firmly. “No. I refuse. I am Elena Gilbert, and I am a Guardian. I still have a part to play in the living world. Send me back.”

  The road stretched farther in front of her, sunlit and tempting. Grinding her teeth, Elena swung around and turned her back on it.

  When she turned, she could see the same formless fog. But now there was a dark shape moving through it. A person, Elena realized. Her heart began to pound harder, and her mouth went dry. Was it someone coming in response to her call? For a panicky moment, she imagined a Grim Reaper, silent in black, come to collect her.

  But no. As the figure came closer, Elena was able to make out that it was Mylea, the Celestial Guardian who had been overseeing Elena’s life for years. When she finally halted in front of Elena, Mylea looked as serene and unruffled as ever, her golden hair pulled back into a bun, her ice-blue gaze level and cool.

  “Elena, you made a bargain,” she said firmly. “Damon killed a human, and so you have to die. You agreed to this, years ago.”

  “That’s not fair,” Elena said, scowling. She sounded like a child, she realized, and she made an effort to temper her voice so that she sounded more reasonable. “Damon was working under the assumption that Jack Daltry was a vampire, and so he could be killed without breaking our agreement. Jack was a vampire. He drank blood, and he had all the strengths of a vampire. He was a monster.”

  Mylea sighed. “As I’ve already explained to you, the fact that Jack Daltry chose to use his scientific gifts to mutilate himself did not make him less human.” Her face softened, just a fraction. “He might have been a monster, but he was a human one.”

  “But we didn’t know that,” Elena told her, exasperated.

  “You knew that he had never died, that he had never gone through the transformations every vampire suffers through. You knew that he and his creations did not have the flaws that weaken true vampires.” Mylea spread her hands. “If anyone should have been able to recognize a true vampire, it would be you and Damon Salvatore.”

  “Jack was dangerous,” Elena snapped. “The Guardians ought to be thanking us. I’m supposed to protect people.”

  Mylea shrugged, a graceful tilt of her shoulders. “You were warned that he was not your concern.”

  It was true; the Guardians had warned her. But in such a roundabout way that she’d had no idea of the possible consequences of hunting Jack. Fear ran through Elena, and she swallowed hard. This was real. She hadn’t quite believed that the Guardians would kill her, but it was true. They would let her die.

  “Please,” she said impulsively, reaching out for Mylea’s arm. “There must be something I can do. Isn’t there any way to change this? I’ve served the Guardians for a long time.”

  Mylea’s expression remained as emotionless as ever, but Elena thought she saw a flash of sympathy deep in her eyes.

  “There must be something,” Elena said desperately.

  Mylea frowned, a tiny crease appearing between her slim eyebrows. “There is one way you can change your future,” she admitted.

  “Please,” Elena begged again. “Anything.”

  “If you can go back and change the course of things, prove that you and the Salvatore brothers can live without destroying one another or other people, you can have your life back.” Mylea tilted her head a little, watching Elena closely. Obviously, she thought that she had made herself clear.

  “What do you mean?” Elena asked, startled. Destroying one another? They loved one another.

  Mylea shook her head. “You and the Salvatore brothers have been in a dangerous cycle for years. You were the one who brought them back together after they’d been apart for centuries, Elena, and their rivalry over you led to everything that’s gone wrong here since then. The destruction of Fell’s Church was a direct effect of your relationship.”

  Elena gasped, stricken.

  Eyes narrowing, Mylea went on. “The vampire Katherine’s jealousy over both Salvatore brothers’ obsession with you led to the beginnings of death and violence in Fell’s Church. Her death as a result of her actions there led to the vampire Klaus’s attacks on the town. Damon Salvatore’s rage over your choosing his brother over him resulted in the kitsune demons gaining a foothold there and destroying Fell’s Church at last.”

&n
bsp; “But the Guardians brought Fell’s Church back,” Elena objected.

  “And yet the death continued,” Mylea told her. “The students at Dalcrest College, Klaus’s victims, the Guardian Andrés—all had their roots in the damaged love between the three of you. Everything has consequences, Elena.”

  Elena pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling dizzy and sickened. It wasn’t true, was it? She and Damon and Stefan were responsible for all the horror that had surrounded them. “What do you mean ‘go back’?”

  “I can send you back to when it all began,” Mylea said. Her eyes, a lighter blue than Elena’s own, held Elena’s gaze. “William Tanner’s death was the first time Damon Salvatore had killed in years, and it was the first link in the chain of violence. If you can prevent it from happening and keep Damon from giving in to the darkness within him, perhaps you can turn the course of events that will, in the present timeline, eventually kill you all.”

  “Damon hadn’t killed for years?” Elena said slowly. She hadn’t known that. Neither had Stefan, she was sure of it.

  She’d thought her love had saved him. Had saved both Damon and Stefan. The Guardians twist the truth, she reminded herself, and swallowed hard, pushing away the tears that prickled at the back of her eyes. She wanted to argue with Mylea, but instead she asked, “You can send me back in time?”

  Mylea nodded briskly. “You’ll be back in your old body, in your old life,” she said. “This is an opportunity to relive those days and change things.” Her eyes seemed to soften slightly, and she went on, “Don’t take this challenge lightly, Elena. What you change in the past will affect your future. Once you return, everything will be different. You might not be able to be with either of the Salvatore brothers.”

  The gray mist seemed to swirl before Elena’s eyes. She could lose Damon, too? But their love was strong, she reminded herself. Even when she had been determined to only love Stefan, fate had pulled her and Damon together.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, trying to feel confident. She didn’t know what she could do, not yet, but she would stop Damon from killing, somehow fix the hatred between the brothers before it could blossom into something that would affect more than the two of them. “But how?”

  Mylea’s lips quirked up in an almost tender smile. “Love is a very powerful force,” she said quietly, and raised one hand to press against Elena’s forehead. Elena had a moment to feel the cool strength of that slender hand, and then everything faded to black.

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t believe it.

  Here I am in my old home at 5:30 in the morning, just a few hours before my senior year of high school begins.

  Again.

  I remember this morning vividly, the last morning of my life before I met Stefan Salvatore. The Elena I was then—the one who should be here now—was so lost. I didn’t feel like I belonged here, or like I belonged anywhere. I was searching for something that was just out of reach.

  My bedroom looks just the way it always did, warm and cozy. My bay window gives me a view onto the quince tree outside. Down the hall are dear Aunt Judith and my darling baby sister, Margaret, who’s only four and tucked up tight in bed, not half-grown and miles away.

  Everything feels as if I might break it, it’s so fragile. This moment has been gone for years.

  Elena stopped writing and stared at her last line, shaking her head. Soon, she’d see everyone, everything, unchanged. They’d been so naïve—in a good way—focused on popularity and high school romances, and unaware of the darkness that hovered just outside their pleasant lives. She’d never appreciated what she had then. This time, she’d know to savor those moments of innocence.

  But she wasn’t just here to revisit her past.

  Tapping her pen against the pages of the small book with the blue velvet cover, she thought for a moment, and then bent her head and began writing again.

  Stefan is alive here. When I think about being with him, my hands start to shake and I can hardly breathe. Part of me died with him, and now I’m going to see him again. Whatever happens next, at least I’ll have that.

  If I’m going to save Damon, stop the destruction Mylea outlined, I can’t be with Stefan this time. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But if I want Damon to listen to me, I have to be with him, not Stefan. I already know how things turn out if I pursue Stefan now.

  I love them both. So much. I always have.

  But I’ve learned my lesson about trying to have them both. If I want them both in my life, things fall apart. They always fall apart, no matter what we do. I have to choose. And, if I can keep Damon from killing Mr. Tanner, maybe I can save us all.

  With a click and a buzz, Elena’s alarm clock went off. Closing her journal, she got up. Soon, it would be time to go to school. Would she remember enough about who she had been then? She worried that somehow, everyone would see that she was the wrong Elena, in the wrong time.

  A hot bath and some coffee, and I’ll calm down, she thought. She had time.

  After a leisurely bath, she took her time getting dressed. The clothes—all the gorgeous new outfits she’d gotten in Paris—looked outdated to her now, but she still sort of loved them. She remembered what she’d worn on this day, the first day of her senior year. A pale rose top and white linen shorts. She pulled them on again. They made her look tempting, as sweet and refreshing as a raspberry sundae, she thought as she looked critically into the mirror, pulling back her hair with a deep rose ribbon.

  “Elena! You’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Judith’s voice drifted up from below. Glancing in the mirror one last time—her face was a trifle grim, as if she were headed into battle, but that couldn’t be helped—Elena grabbed her backpack and headed for the stairs.

  Downstairs, Aunt Judith was burning something on the stove, and Margaret was eating cereal at the kitchen table. The sight of them stopped Elena in her tracks for a second. She’d forgotten how little Margaret was then. And Aunt Judith had still been wearing her flyaway hair long.

  Elena pushed herself back into motion and kissed Aunt Judith quickly on the cheek. “Good morning,” she said lightly. “Sorry, I don’t have time for breakfast.”

  “But, Elena, you can’t just go off without eating. You need your protein—”

  It was all coming back to her. She felt like an actress, mouthing familiar lines she’d said a hundred times before. “I’ll get a doughnut before school,” she said, dropping a kiss on the top of Margaret’s silky head and turning to go.

  “But, Elena—”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Judith,” Elena said cheerfully. “It’ll all be fine.” At the front door, she spun to take one last quick look at them. Margaret, still half-asleep, licked her spoon. Aunt Judith, her eyes full of love, gave Elena a small, worried smile.

  Elena’s heart ached a little. Part of her wanted to go back, forget school and the future, and sit down at the table with them. So much had happened since this moment, and she’d never believed she would be back here like this again. But she couldn’t stay. Margaret wiggled her fingers in a wave, and Elena, spurring herself into movement, winked at the little girl as she went through the door.

  “Elena,” Aunt Judith said. “I really think—”

  She closed the door behind her, cutting off Aunt Judith’s protests, and stepped out onto the front porch.

  And stopped.

  The world outside was silent, the street deserted. The tall, pretty Victorian houses seemed to loom above her. Overhead, the sky was milky and opaque, and the air felt oppressively heavy.

  It was as if the whole street were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw something move. Something was watching her.

  She turned and caught sight of a huge black crow, the biggest crow she had ever seen, sitting in the quince tree in her front yard. It was completely still, and its glittering black eyes were fixed on her with an intent, almost human gaze.

  Elena bit back
a laugh and turned away, letting her eyes slide over the crow as if she hadn’t noticed it.

  Damon. She had almost forgotten that this was the first time she’d seen him, that he’d watched her—frightened her—as a crow this first morning. There was a glad little bubble of joy rising in her chest, but she suppressed the urge to call out to him. It wasn’t the time, not yet.

  Instead, she took a deep breath, hopped off the porch, and strode confidently down the street. Behind her, she heard a harsh croak and the flapping of wings, and she smiled to herself. Damon couldn’t stand being ignored. She didn’t turn back around.

  It was only a few blocks to the high school, and Elena spent the walk reminiscing. There was the coffee shop she and Matt had gone to on their first date junior year; there was the little health food shop where Aunt Judith had insisted on buying her special organic cereal. There was the house of the terrible Kline twins, who Elena had babysat during her sophomore year of school.

  In her real life, it hadn’t been that long since Elena had been to Fell’s Church, but things had changed since she was in high school. Stores had closed and opened, houses were remodeled. This was the way it had been when she’d lived here, the way it was supposed to be.

  At the school, a crowd of her friends had gathered in the parking lot, chattering and showing off their new clothes. It was everyone who mattered, plus four or five girls who had hung around them in the hopes of gathering some scraps of popularity.

  Elena winced. Everyone who mattered. The nasty thought had slotted right into her mind. The Elena who belonged here had thought that.

  One by one, her best friends hugged her in welcome. They looked so young, Elena thought, her heart aching. They all thought they were so sophisticated, but their seventeen- and eighteen-year-old faces still had childish curves, and their eyes were wide with thinly veiled excitement at the first day of their senior year.

  Caroline, her green eyes narrow, laid one cool cheek against Elena’s for a second and then stepped back. “Welcome home, Elena,” she said dryly. “It must feel like the backwoods for you after Paris.”