by L. J. Smith
Meredith’s eyes were filling with tears. She looked to her mother, trying to silently tell her she couldn’t understand this.
“He was drinking my blood?” she guessed. “Klaus?”
“No!” cried her father as her mother whispered prayers.
“He was drinking Cristian’s, then.” Meredith was kneeling on the floor now, trying to look up into the face of her mother.
“No!” cried her father again. He choked.
“La sangre!” gasped her mother, covering her eyes. “The blood!”
“Querida—” her father sobbed, and went to her.
“Dad!” Meredith went after him and shook his arm. “You’ve ruled out all the possibilities! I don’t understand! Who was drinking blood?”
“You! You!” her mother almost screamed. “From your own brother! Oh, el aterrorizar!”
“Gabriella!” moaned her father.
Meredith’s mother subsided into weeping.
Meredith’s head was whirling. “I’m not a vampire! I hunt vampires and kill them!”
“He said,” her father whispered hoarsely: “‘Just see she gets a tablespoon a week. If you want her to live, that is. Try a blood pudding.’ He was laughing.”
Meredith didn’t need to ask if they had obeyed. At her house, they had blood sausage or pudding at least once a week. She had grown up with it. It was nothing special.
“Why?” she whispered hoarsely now. “Why didn’t he kill me?”
“I don’t know! We still don’t know! That man with his front all dripping with blood—your blood, your brother’s blood, we didn’t know! And then at the last minute he grabbed for the two of you but you bit his hand to the bone,” her father said.
“He laughed—laughed!—with your teeth clamped in him and your little hands pushing him away, and said, ‘I’ll just leave you this one, then, and you can worry about what she will turn out to be. The boy I’m taking with me.’ And then suddenly I seemed to come out of a spell, for I was reaching for you again, ready to fight him for both of you. But I couldn’t! Once I had you, I couldn’t move another inch. And he left the house still laughing—and took your brother, Cristian, with him.”
Meredith thought. No wonder they didn’t want to hold any kind of celebration on the anniversaries of that day. Her grandmother dead, her grandfather going crazy, her brother lost, and herself—what? No wonder they celebrated her birthday a week early.
Meredith tried to stay calm. The world was falling to pieces around her but she had to stay calm. Staying calm had kept her alive all her life. Without even having to count, she was breathing out deep, and in through her nostrils, and out through her mouth. Deep, deep, cleansing breaths. Soothing peace throughout her body. Only part of her was hearing her mother:
“We came home early that night because I had a headache—”
“Sh, querida—” her father was beginning.
“We got home early,” her mother keened. “O Virgen Bendecida, what would we have found if we had been late? We would have lost you, too! My baby! My baby with blood on her mouth—”
“But we got home early enough to save her,” Meredith’s father said huskily, as if trying to wake her mother from a spell.
“Ah, gracias, Princesa Divina, Vigen pura y impoluto…” Her mother couldn’t seem to stop crying.
“Daddy,” Meredith said urgently, aching for her mother but desperately needing information. “Have you ever seen him again? Or heard about him? My brother, Cristian?”
“Yes,” her father said. “Oh, yes, we have seen something.”
Her mother gasped. “’Nando, no!”
“She has to learn the truth sometime,” her father said. He rummaged among some cardboard file folders on the desk. “Look!” he said to Meredith. “Look at this.”
Meredith stared in utter disbelief.
In the Dark Dimension Bonnie shut her eyes. There was a lot of wind at the top of a tall building’s window. That was all her mind had a thought for when she was out of the window and then back into it and the ogre was laughing and Shinichi’s terrible voice saying, “You don’t really think we’d let you go without questioning you thoroughly?”
Bonnie heard the words without them making sense, and then suddenly they did. Her captors were going to hurt her. They were going to torture her. They were going to take her bravery away.
She thought she screamed something at him. All she knew, though, was that there was a soft explosion of heat behind her, and then—unbelievably—all dressed up in a cloak with badges that made him look like some kind of military prince, there was Damon.
Damon.
He was so late she’d long ago given up on him. But now he was flashing a there-and-gone brilliant smile at Shinichi, who was staring as if he’d been stricken dumb.
And now Damon was saying, “I’m afraid Ms. McCullough has another engagement at that moment. But I will be back to kick your ass—immediately. Move from this room and I’ll kill you all, slowly. Thank you for your time and consideration.”
And before anyone could even recover from their first shock at his arrival, he and Bonnie were blasting off through the windows. He went, not out of the building backward as if retreating, but straight ahead forward, one hand in front of him, wrapping them both in a black but ethereal bundle of Power. They shattered the two-way mirror in Bonnie’s room and were almost all the way through to the next room before Bonnie’s mind tagged the first “empty.” Then they were crashing through an elaborate videoset-window—made to let people think they had a view of the outdoors, and flying over someone lying on a bed. Then…it was just a series of crashes, as far as Bonnie was concerned. She barely got a glimpse of what was going on in each room. Finally…
The crashing stopped. This left Bonnie holding on to Damon koala-style—she wasn’t stupid—and they were very, very high in the air. And mobilizing in front of them, and off to the sides, and as far as Bonnie could see, were women who were also flying, but in little machines that looked like a combination of a motorcycle and a Jet Ski. No wheels, of course. The machines were all gold, which was also the color of each driver’s hair.
So the first word Bonnie gasped to her rescuer, after he had blasted a tunnel through the large slave-owner’s building to save her, was, “Guardians?”
“Indispensable, considering the fact that I didn’t have the first idea where the bad guys might have taken you and I suspected that there might be a time limit. This was actually the very last of the slave-sellers we were due to check. We finally…lucked out.” For someone who had lucked out, he sounded a little strange. Almost…choked up.
Water was on Bonnie’s cheeks but it was being flicked away too fast for her to wipe it. Damon was holding her so that she couldn’t see his face, and he was holding her very, very tightly.
It really was Damon. He had called out the cavalry and, despite the city-wide mind-gridlock, he had found her.
“They hurt you, didn’t they, little redbird? I saw…I saw your face,” Damon said in his new choked-up voice. Bonnie didn’t know what to say. But suddenly she didn’t mind how hard he squeezed her. She even found herself squeezing back.
Suddenly, to her shock, Damon broke her koala-grip and pulled her up and kissed her on the lips very gently. “Little redbird! I’m going to go now, and make them pay for what they did to you.”
Bonnie heard herself say, “No, don’t.”
“No?” Damon repeated, bewildered.
“No,” Bonnie said. She needed Damon with her. She didn’t care what happened to Shinichi. There was a sweetness unfolding inside her, but there was also a rushing in her head. It really was a pity, but in a few moments she would be unconscious.
Meanwhile, she had three thoughts in mind and all of them were clear. What she was afraid of was that they would be less clear later, after she had fainted. “Do you have a star ball?”
“I have twenty-eight star balls,” Damon said, and looked at her quizzically.
That wasn’t w
hat Bonnie meant at all; she meant one to record onto. “Can you remember three things?” she said to Damon.
“I’d gamble on it.” This time Damon kissed her softly on the forehead.
“First, you ruined my very brave death.”
“We can always go back and you can have another try.” Damon’s voice was less choked now; more his own.
“Second, you left me at that horrible inn for a week—”
As if she could see inside his mind, she saw this slice into him like some kind of wooden sword. He was holding her so tightly that she really couldn’t breathe. “I…I didn’t mean to. It was really only four days, but I never should have done it,” he said.
“Third.” Bonnie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think any star ball was ever stolen at all. What never existed can’t be stolen, can it?”
She looked at him. Damon was looking back in a way that normally would have thrilled her. He was obviously, blatantly distressed. But Bonnie was just barely hanging on to consciousness at this point.
“And…fourth…” She puzzled out slowly.
“Fourth? You said three things.” Damon smiled, just a little.
“I have to say this—” She dropped her head down on Damon’s shoulder, gathered all of her energy, and concentrated.
Damon loosened his grip a little. He said, “I can hear a faint murmuring sound in my head. Just tell me normally. We’re well away from anyone.”
Bonnie was insistent. She scrunched her whole tiny body together and then explosively sent out a thought. She could tell that Damon caught it.
Fourth, I know the way to the seven legendary kitsune treasures, Bonnie sent to him. That includes the biggest star ball ever made. But if we want it, we have to get to it—fast.
Then, feeling that she had contributed enough to the conversation, she fainted.
21
Someone was still knocking on Stefan’s door.
“It’s a woodpecker,” Elena said when she could speak. “They knock, don’t they?”
“On doors inside houses?” Stefan said dazedly.
“Ignore it and it will go away.”
A moment later the knocking resumed.
Elena moaned, “I don’t believe this.”
Stefan whispered, “Do you want me to bring you its head? Unattached from its neck, I mean?”
Elena considered. As the knocking continued, she was getting more worried and less confused. “Better see if it is a bird, I guess,” she said.
Stefan rolled away from her, somehow got on his jeans, and went reeling to the door. In spite of herself, Elena pitied whoever was on the other side.
The knocking started again.
Stefan reached the door and nearly wrenched it off its hinges.
“What the—” He stopped, suddenly moderating his voice. “Mrs. Flowers?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Flowers said, deliberately not seeing Elena, who was wearing a sheet and directly in her line of vision.
“It’s poor dear Meredith,” Mrs. Flowers said. “She’s in such a state, and she says she has to see you now, Stefan.”
Elena’s mind switched tracks as suddenly and smoothly as a train. Meredith? In a state? Demanding to see Stefan, even if, as Elena was sure she must have, Mrs. Flowers had delicately indicated just how…busy Stefan was at the moment?
Her mind was still solidly linked with Stefan’s. He said, “Thank you, Mrs. Flowers. I’ll be down in just a moment.”
Elena, who was slipping into her clothes as fast as she could, while crouching on the far side of the bed, added a telepathic suggestion.
“Maybe you could make her a nice cup of tea—I mean, a cup of tea,” Stefan added.
“Yes, dear, what a good idea,” Mrs. Flowers said gently. “And if you should see Elena, perhaps you could say that dear Meredith is asking for her, too?”
“We will,” Stefan said automatically. Then he turned around and hastily shut the door.
Elena gave him time to put his shirt and shoes on, and then they both hurried down to the kitchen, where Meredith was not having a nice cup of tea, but pacing around like a caged leopard.
Stefan began, “What’s—”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Stefan Salvatore! No—you tell me! You were in my mind before, so you must know. You must have been able to see—to tell—about me.”
Elena was still mindlocked with Stefan. She felt his dismay. “To tell what about you?” he asked gently, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table so Meredith could sit.
The very simple act of sitting down, of pausing to respond to civility, seemed to calm Meredith slightly. But still Elena could feel her fear and pain like the taste of a steel sword on her tongue.
Meredith accepted a hug and became a little calmer yet. A little more herself and less like a caged animal. But the struggle was so visceral and so clear within her that Elena couldn’t bear to leave her, even when Mrs. Flowers deposited four mugs of tea around the table and took another chair Stefan offered.
Then Stefan sat down. He knew Elena would stand or sit or share a chair with Meredith, but whatever it was, she would be the one to decide.
Mrs. Flowers was gently stirring honey into her mug of tea and then passing the honey along to Stefan who gave it to Elena who put just the little bit that Meredith liked into Meredith’s mug and stirred it gently, too.
The ordinary, civilized sounds of two spoons quietly clinking seemed to relax Meredith still further. She took the mug Elena gave her and sipped, then drank thirstily.
Elena could feel Stefan’s mental sigh of relief as Meredith floated down another few levels. He politely sipped his own tea, which was hot but not burning hot and made from naturally sweet berries and herbs.
“It’s good,” Meredith said. She was almost a human now. “Thank you, Mrs. Flowers.”
Elena felt lighter. She relaxed enough to pull over her own cup of tea and squeeze lots of honey in and stir it and take a gulp. Good! Calming down tea!
That’s chamomile and cucumber, Stefan told her.
“Chamomile and cucumber,” Elena said, nodding wisely, “for calming down.” And then she blushed, for Mrs. Flowers’s bright smile had knowledge in it.
Elena hastily drank more tea and watched Meredith have more tea and everything began to feel almost all right. Meredith was completely Meredith now, not some fierce animal. Elena squeezed her friend’s hand tightly.
There was just one problem. Humans were less frightening than beasts but they could cry. Now Meredith, who never wept, was shaking and tears were dripping into the tea.
“You know what morcillo is, right?” she asked Elena at last.
Elena nodded hesitantly. “We had it sometimes in stew at your house?” she said. “And for tapas?” Elena had grown up with the blood sausage as a meal or a snack at her friend’s house, and she was used to the bite-sized pieces as a delicious food only Mrs. Sulez made.
Elena felt Stefan’s heart sinking. She looked back and forth from him to Meredith.
“It turns out my mother didn’t always make it,” Meredith said, looking at Stefan now. “And my parents had a very good reason for changing my birthday.”
“Just tell it all,” Stefan suggested softly. And then Elena felt something she hadn’t before. A surge, like a wave—a long gentle swell that spoke right into the center of Meredith’s brain. It said: Just tell it and be calm. No anger. No fear.
But it wasn’t telepathy. Meredith felt the thought in her blood and bones, but didn’t hear it with her ears.
It was Influence. Before Elena could brain her beloved Stefan with her mug for using Influence on one of her friends, Stefan said, just to her, Meredith’s hurting, feeling scared and angry. She has reason to, but she needs peace. I probably won’t be able to hold her anyway, but I’ll try.
Meredith wiped her eyes. “It turns out that nothing was like what I thought happened—that night when I was three.” She described what her parents had told her, about everything that Klaus had
done. Telling the story, even quietly, was undoing all the calming influences that had helped Meredith maintain herself. She was beginning to shake again. Before Elena could grab her, she was up and striding around the room. “He laughed and said that I’d need blood every week—animal blood—or I’d die. I didn’t need much. Just a tablespoon or two. And my poor mother didn’t want to lose another child. She did what he told her to. But what happens if I have more blood, Stefan? What happens if I drink yours?”
Stefan was thinking, desperately trying to see if in all his years of experience he’d come across anything like this. Meanwhile he answered the easy part.
“If you drank enough of my blood you’d become a vampire. But so would anyone. With you—well, it might take less. So don’t let any vampire trick you into blood exchange. Once might be enough.”
“So I’m not a vampire? Now? Not any kind? Are there different kinds?”
Stefan answered seriously. “I’ve never heard of ‘different kinds’ of vampires in my life, except for Old Ones. I can tell you that you don’t have a vampire’s aura. What about your teeth? Can you make your canines sharp? Usually it’s best to test over human flesh. Not your own.”
Elena promptly stuck out her arm, wrist vein-side up. Meredith, eyes closed in concentration, made a great effort, which Elena felt through Stefan. Then Meredith opened her eyes, mouth also open for a dental inspection. Elena stared at her canines. They looked a little bit sharp, but so did anybody’s, didn’t they?
Carefully Elena reached a fingertip in. She touched one of Meredith’s canines.
Tiny pinch.
Startled, Elena pulled back. She stared at her finger where a very small drop of blood was welling up.
Everyone watched it, mesmerized. Then Elena’s mouth said without pausing to consult her brain, “You have kitten teeth.”
The next moment Meredith had brushed Elena aside and was pacing wildly all around the kitchen. “I won’t be one! I won’t be! I’m a hunter-slayer, not a vampire! I’ll kill myself if I’m a vampire!” She was deadly serious. Elena felt Stefan feeling it, the quick thrust of the stave between her ribs and into the heart. She would go on the Internet to find the right area. Ironwood and white ash piercing her heart, stilling it forever…sealing off the evil that was Meredith Sulez.