The Vampire Diaries: The Return: Midnight

by L. J. Smith

  Then Bonnie went down again and came up laughing.

  “And is that Stefan? It’s Stefan! Stefan, hello! Helloooo!”

  Stefan glanced back, as if trying to assess the suds situation. He seemed satisfied with it, turned slightly, and waved.

  “Hey, Bonnie?” he asked, voice muffled by the sounds of continual splashing. “Where are we?”

  “It’s Lady Ulma’s house! You’re safe—you’re all safe!” She turned a small hopeful face to Elena. “Where’s Meredith?”

  Elena shook her head, thinking of all the things about Meredith that Bonnie didn’t know yet. Well, she decided, this wasn’t the time to mention them. “She had to stay behind, to protect Fell’s Church.”

  “Oh,” Bonnie looked down, troubled. “Still bad, is it?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it. Really; it’s—indescribable. That’s where Matt and Mrs. Flowers and Meredith are. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m just so glad to see you! Oh my God, but you’re hurt.” She was looking at the small tooth wounds on Elena’s arm, and the blood on her torn T-shirt. “I’ll get out and—hey, no, you get in! There’s plenty of room; plenty of hot water, and…plenty of clothes! Lady Ulma even designed some for us, for ‘when we came back’!”

  Elena, smiling reassuringly at the bath girls, was already stripping as fast as she could. The tub, which was big enough for six to swim in, looked too luxurious to miss and, she reasoned, it made sense to be clean when you greeted your hostess.

  “Go have fun,” she shouted to Stefan. “Is Damon here?” she added in a whispered aside to Bonnie, who nodded. “Damon’s here, too,” Elena caroled. “If you find Lady Ulma, tell her Elena’s coming, but she’s getting washed up first.” She didn’t actually dive into the pearl pink steaming water, but she got onto the second step down and let herself slide from there.

  Instantly, she was immersed in delicious heat that seeped straight into her body, pulling some magic string that relaxed all her muscles at once. Perfumes suffused the air. She flung her wet hair back and saw Bonnie laughing at her.

  “So you got out of your hole and you’ve been here wallowing in luxury while we’ve been worried sick?” Elena couldn’t help but hear the way her voice went up at the end, making it a question.

  “No, I got picked up by some people, and—” Bonnie broke off. “Well…the first few days were tough, but never mind. Thank God we got to Lady Ulma’s in the end. Want a bath brush? Some soap that smells just like roses?”

  Elena was looking at Bonnie with slightly narrowed eyes. She knew that Bonnie would do just about anything for Damon. That included covering up for him. Delicately, all the while enjoying the brushes and unguents and many kinds of soaps laid out on a shelf for easy reach, she began an inquisition.

  Stefan got out of the steamy room before he was soaking wet. Bonnie was safe and Elena was happy. He found he had stepped into another room, in which were a number of couches made of some soft spongy material. For drying? Massage? Who knew?

  The next room he entered had gas lanterns that were turned high enough to rival electrical light. Here were three more couches—he had no idea what for—a full-length silvered-glass mirror, and smaller mirrors in front of chairs. Obviously a place for makeup and beautifying.

  This last room opened onto a hallway. Stefan stepped out and hesitated, spreading delicate tendrils of Power in different directions, hoping to find Damon before Damon noticed his presence in the estate. The Master Key had proved that it could overcome the fact that he hadn’t been invited here. That meant that maybe he could…

  At that moment he got a hit, and withdrew his probe immediately, startled. He stared down the long corridor. He could actually see Damon, pacing in the room at the end, talking to someone Stefan couldn’t see behind the door.

  Stefan crept very quietly down the hallway, stalking. He made it to the door without his brother even noticing, and there he saw that the person Damon was talking to was a woman wearing what looked like buckskin breeches and shirt, who had weathered skin, and a general aura of being more at home outside civilization than inside it. Damon was saying, “Make sure there are enough warm clothes for the girl. She’s not exactly hardy, you know—”

  “Then where are you taking her—and why?” Stefan asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

  He had the good fortune to once—just this once—take Damon unaware. His brother glanced up, and then jerked like a startled cat. It was priceless to watch Damon scrambling for a mask until he decided on the façade of absent amiability. Stefan guessed that no one had ever put so much effort into walking over to a desk chair, sitting down, and forcing himself to lounge.

  “Well, well! Little brother! You dropped in for a visit! How…nice. What a pity, though, that I’m practically running out the door on a journey, and there’s no room for you.”

  At this point the weather-beaten woman who had been taking notes—and who had risen when Stefan entered the room—spoke up. “Oh, no, my lord. The thurgs won’t mind the extra weight of this gentleman. They probably won’t notice it. If his baggage can be ready by tomorrow you can start out in the early morning just as you planned.”

  Damon gave her his best “shut up or die” glare. She shut up. Through clenched teeth, Damon managed to say, “This is Pelat. She’s the coordinator of our little expedition. Hello, Pelat. Good-bye, Pelat. You may go.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Pelat bowed and left.

  “Aren’t you taking this ‘my lord’ thing a bit too seriously?” Stefan asked. “And what is that costume you’re wearing?”

  “It’s the uniform of the captain of the guard of Madame le Princess Jessalyn D’Aubigne,” Damon said coldly.

  “You got a job?”

  “It was a position.” Damon bared his teeth. “And it’s none of your business.”

  “Got your canines back, too, I see.”

  “And that’s none of your business either. But if you want me to knock you out and trample over your undead body, I’ll be delighted to oblige.”

  Something was wrong, Stefan thought. Damon should be through the taunting phase and be actually trampling on him by now. It only made sense if…

  “I’ve already spoken to Bonnie,” he said. And so he had, to ask where he was. But to a guilty mind, apparent foreknowledge often worked wonders.

  And Damon hastily said exactly what Stefan hoped he wouldn’t. “I can explain!”

  “Oh, God,” Stefan said.

  “If she’d just done as I told her—”

  “While you were off becoming a princess’s captain of the guard? And she was—where?”

  “She was safe, at least! But, no, she had to go out into the street and then to that shop—”

  “Shocking! She actually walked in the street?”

  Damon ground his teeth. “You don’t know how it is around here—or how the slave trade works. Every day—”

  Stefan slammed both hands on the desk, now truly angry. “She was picked up by slavers? While you were sleazing around with a princess?”

  “Princess Jessalyn does not sleaze,” Damon replied icily. “Nor do I. And anyway it all turned out to be a good thing because now we know where the Seven Kitsune Treasures are.”

  “What treasures? And who cares about treasures when there’s a town being destroyed by kitsune?”

  Damon opened his mouth, shut it, then looked narrowly at Stefan. “You said that you’d talked to Bonnie about all this.”

  “I did talk to Bonnie,” Stefan said flatly. “I said hello.”

  Damon’s dark eyes flared. For a moment Stefan thought he was going to snarl or start a fight. But then, through clenched teeth, he said, “It’s all for the damned town, don’t you see that? Those treasures include the largest star ball ever to be filled with Power. And that Power may be enough to save Fell’s Church. At least to stop its total annihilation. Maybe to even clear out every malach that exists and destroy Shinichi and Misao with a single blow. Is that n
oble enough for you, little brother? Is it reason enough?”

  “But taking Bonnie—”

  “You stay with her here if you like! Spend your lives here! I might mention that without her I would never have been able to set up an expedition, and that she’s determined to go. Besides, we’re not coming back this way. There has to be an easier route from the Gatehouse to Earth. We wouldn’t survive coming back, so you’d better hope like hell that there is one.”

  Stefan was surprised. He had never heard his brother speak with such passion about anything that involved humans. He was about to reply, when behind him there came a scream of pure, unadulterated rage. It was frightening—and worrying, too, because Stefan would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. It was Elena’s.

  27

  Stefan whirled around and saw Bonnie, with only a towel wrapped around her, trying to physically restrain Elena, who was similarly clad. Elena’s hair was wet and uncombed. Something had caused her to leap out of the bathing pool and run directly into the corridor.

  Stefan was surprised by Damon’s reaction. Was that a spark of alarm in the endlessly dark eyes that had remained impassive watching a thousand disasters, calamities, cruelties?

  No, it couldn’t be. But it certainly looked like one.

  Elena was getting closer. Her voice rang out clearly through the hallway, which was spacious enough to give it a slight echo. “Damon! I see you! You wait right there—I’m coming to kill you!”

  This time the flicker was unmistakable. Damon glanced at the window, which was partly open.

  Meanwhile Bonnie had lost the fight and Elena was running like a gazelle toward the office. Her eyes, however, were definitely not doe-like. Stefan saw them glitter dangerously as Elena herself eluded him—mainly because he didn’t dare grab her by the towel, and every other part of her was slippery. Elena was now facing Damon, who had risen from his chair.

  “How could you?” she cried. “Using Bonnie like that—Influencing her, drugging her—all to get at what didn’t belong to you! Using almost all the Power that was left in Misao’s star ball—what did you think Shinichi would do when you did that? He came after us, that’s what he did—and who knows if the boardinghouse is still standing?”

  Damon opened his mouth, but Elena wasn’t finished.

  “And then to bring Bonnie to the Dark Dimension with you—I don’t care if you didn’t want to waste opening the Gate or not. You knew you shouldn’t be taking her here.”

  Damon was angry now. “I—”

  But Elena cut him off without even hesitating. “Then once you drag her here you abandon her. You leave her terrified, alone, in a room where she’s not even allowed to look out of the window, with a collection of star balls that you don’t even bother to examine—but which are completely unsuitable and give her nightmares! You—”

  “If the little dolt had just had the sense to wait quietly—”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I said, if the little dolt had just had the sense—”

  Stefan, who was already on the move, shut his eyes briefly. He opened them again in time to see the slap and to feel Elena putting all her Power into it. It snapped Damon’s head around.

  What astonished him—even though he positioned himself precisely in case of it—was to see Damon’s hand flash up as quick as a cobra’s strike. There was no follow-through, but Stefan had already picked Elena up bodily and pulled her back out of range.

  “Let go!” Elena cried, struggling to get out of Stefan’s arms, or at least get her feet on the ground. “I’m going to kill him!”

  The next astonishing thing—discontinuing the raw fury that Stefan could feel coursing through Elena’s aura—was that Elena was actually winning the struggle, despite the fact that he was orders of magnitude stronger than she was. Part of it had to do with the towel, which was threatening to drop at any moment. The other part was that Elena had acquired a unique style of fighting stronger opponents—at least those with any conscience. She deliberately threw herself against any point at which it would hurt her to restrain her, and she didn’t give up. Eventually he was going to have to choose between injuring her and letting her go.

  At that moment, however, Elena stopped moving. She froze, head turned as she looked behind him.

  Stefan glanced backward too, and felt an electrical shock shoot through him.

  Bonnie was standing directly behind them, looking at Damon, her lips parted in anguish, tears in her wide brown eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

  Instantly, even before he could register Elena’s pleading glance, Stefan released her. He understood: Her mood and the dynamics of this situation had just been turned upside down.

  Elena adjusted her towel and turned to Bonnie, but by then Bonnie was running away down the corridor. Elena’s longer strides allowed her to reach Bonnie in a moment and she caught the smaller girl and held her, not so much by force as by sisterly magnetism. “Don’t worry about that snake,” Elena’s voice came back to them clearly, as it was obviously meant to. “He’s a—” And here Elena indulged in some very creative cursing.

  Stefan could hear all of it distinctly and noticed that it broke off into tiny hushing sounds just as Elena turned into the door of the bathing salon.

  Stefan glanced sideways at Damon. He didn’t mind fighting his brother in the least right now; he was full of rage himself on behalf of Bonnie. But Damon ignored him as if he were part of the wallpaper, staring at nothing with an expression of icy fury.

  At that moment Stefan heard a faint sound from the farthest end of the corridor, which was quite a distance away. But his vampire senses informed him that surely the person in front was a woman of consequence, probably their hostess. He stepped forward so that at least she could be greeted by someone who was wearing clothing.

  However, at the last moment, Elena and Bonnie appeared in front of him, clad in dresses—gowns, rather—that were both casual and works of genius. Elena’s was an informal robe of deep lapis blue, with her hair drying into a soft golden mass around her shoulders. Bonnie was wearing something shorter and lighter: pale violet, shot with threads of silver in no particular pattern. Both outfits, Stefan grasped suddenly, would look as good in the interminable sunlight as in a closed room with no windows and gas lamps.

  He remembered the stories Elena had told about Lady Ulma designing gowns for her, and he realized that whatever else his hostess might be, she was truly a genius couturier.

  And then Elena was running, dainty gold sandals flying, and Bonnie’s silver slippers were following and Stefan began to run too, fearing some unknown danger. They all arrived at the far end of the hallway at the same time, and Stefan saw that the woman standing there was dressed even more splendidly than the girls. She was wearing a deep red raw silk gown with a heavy diamond-and-ruby necklace and ring—but no bracelets.

  The next minute the girls were both curtseying, deep, graceful curtseys. Stefan made his best bow.

  Lady Ulma held out both hands to Elena, who seemed to be almost frantic over something that Stefan didn’t understand. Elena took the extended hands, breathing quickly and shallowly. “Lady Ulma—you’re so thin—”

  Just then the babbling of a baby could be heard. Elena’s face lit up and she smiled at Lady Ulma, letting out a quick breath. A young servant—even younger-looking than Bonnie—gently put a tiny bundle made of lace and sheerest lawn into Lady Ulma’s arms. Both Elena and Bonnie blinked away tears, all the while beaming at the child and making little nonsense noises. Stefan could understand that—they’d known the Lady since she was a whip-torn slave, trying not to miscarry.

  “But how—?” Elena began spluttering. “We saw you only a few days ago, but this baby is months old—”

  “A few days? Is that how long it seems to you?” asked Lady Ulma. “To us, it has been many months. But the magic still works, Elena! Your magic remained! It was an easy delivery—easy! And then Dr. Meggar says that you saved me before she suffered injury fr
om the abuse I went through. She is trying to speak already! It is you, Elena, it is your magic!”

  At this the Lady made a movement as if to kneel at Elena’s feet. She got no farther than a few inches, though, because Elena caught her hands, crying, “Lady Ulma, no!” while Stefan, at his best speed, slipped beside the girl servant and caught the Lady by her elbows, supporting her weight.

  “And I’m not magic,” Elena added. “Stefan, tell her that I’m not magic.”

  Obediently, Stefan leaned toward the ear of the tall woman. “Elena is the most magic I’ve ever encountered,” he stage-whispered. “She has Powers that I can’t even understand.”

  “Ahh!” Elena made a wordless exclamation of frustration.

  “Do you know what I’m naming her?” the Lady continued. Her face, if not conventionally beautiful, was striking, with an aristocratic combination of Roman nose and high cheekbones.

  “No.” Elena smiled—and then “No!” Elena cried. “Please! Don’t condemn her to a life of expectations and terror. Don’t tempt anyone to hurt her while she’s still a child. Oh, Lady Ulma!”

  “But my dear savior…”

  Then Elena began to manage things. Once she took a situation in hand there was no way not to go with the flow of it. “Lady Ulma,” she said clearly, “forgive me for interfering in your affairs. But Bonnie has told me—” She stopped, hesitated.

  “Of the troubles of strong and hopeful young girls, for the most part poor or enslaved, who have taken on the names of the three bravest young women who ever graced our world,” Lady Ulma finished for her.

  “Something like that,” Elena said, flushing.

  “Nobody’s calling themselves Damon,” put in the young nurse cheerfully and with the utmost goodwill. “Neither boys nor girls.”

  Stefan could have kissed her.

  “Oh, Lakshmi!” Elena hugged the coltish-looking teenager. “I didn’t even see you properly. Let me look at you.” She held the girl at arm’s length. “Do you know, you’ve grown at least an inch since I last saw you?”

  Lakshmi beamed.