The Vampire Diaries: The Return: Shadow Souls

by Smith, L. J.

  “But you’ve already said that this monster that attacked him—”

  “Malach, Caroline. Learn the word. You’ve got one inside you!”

  Caroline smirked and waved a hand, dismissing this. “You said these things can possess you and make you do things out of character, right?”

  There was a silence. Bonnie thought, if we have said it, we’ve never said it in front of you.

  “Well, what if I admitted that Matt and I weren’t dating? What if I said that I found him driving around our neighborhood at about five miles an hour, just looking lost. His sleeve was torn to pieces and his arm was all chewed up. So I took him inside my house and tried to bandage his arm—but suddenly he went crazy. And I did try to scratch him, but the bandages were in the way. I scratched them off him. I even still have them, all covered in blood. If I told you that, what would you say?”

  I’d say that you were using us as a dry run before telling Sheriff Mossberg, Bonnie thought, chilled. And I’d say that you were right, you probably can clean up pretty normal looking when you make an effort. If you’d just stop that childish giggling and get rid of the crafty look, you’d be even more convincing.

  But Meredith was speaking. “Caroline—they’ve got DNA tests for blood.”

  “Of course I know that!” Caroline looked so indignant that for a moment she forgot to look sly.

  Meredith was staring at her. “That means they can tell if the bandages you’ve got have Matt’s blood on them or not,” she said. “And if it flows in the right pattern to match your story.”

  “There isn’t any pattern. The bandages are just soaked.” Abruptly, Caroline strode over to a dresser and opened it, plucking out a length of what might have originally been athletic bandage. Now it shone reddish in the faint light.

  Looking at the stiff fabric in the ruby light, Bonnie knew two things. It wasn’t any part of the poultice that Mrs. Flowers had put on Matt’s arm the morning after he’d been attacked. And it was soaked with genuine blood, right to the stiff tips of the cloth.

  The world seemed to be spinning around. Because even though Bonnie believed in Matt, this new story scared her. This new story might even work—provided that no one could find Matt and test his blood.

  Even Matt admitted that there was time unaccounted for that night…time he couldn’t remember.

  But that didn’t mean Caroline was telling the truth! Why would she start out with a lie, and only change it when the facts got in the way?

  Caroline’s eyes were the color of a cat’s. Cats play with mice, just for amusement. Just to see them run.

  Matt had run….

  Bonnie shook her head. All at once she couldn’t stand this house any longer. It had somehow settled into her mind, making her accept all the impossible angles of the distorted walls. She had even grown accustomed to the awful smell and the red light. But now, with Caroline holding out a blood-soaked bandage and telling her that it was Matt who had bled all over it…

  “I’m going home,” Bonnie announced suddenly. “And Matt didn’t do it, and—and I’m never coming back!” Accompanied by the sound of Caroline’s giggling, she whirled, trying not to look at the nest Caroline had made under her corner desk. There were empty bottles and half-empty plates of food piled in there with the clothes. Anything could be under them—even a malach.

  But as Bonnie moved, the room seemed to move with her, accelerating her spin, until she had gone twice around before she could put out a foot to stop herself.

  “Wait, Bonnie—wait, Caroline,” Meredith said, sounding almost frantic. Caroline was folding her body like a contortionist, getting back under the desk. “Caroline, what about Tyler Smallwood? Don’t you care that he’s the real father of your—your kids? How long were you dating him before he joined up with Klaus? Where is he now?”

  “Forrr all I know he’s dead. You and yourrr friends killed him.” The snarl was back, but it wasn’t vicious. It was more of a triumphant purr. “But I don’t miss him, so I hope he stays dead,” Caroline added, with a muffled giggle. “He wouldn’t marrrry me.”

  Bonnie had to get away. She fumbled for the doorknob, found it, and was blinded. She had spent so long in ruby dimness that the hall light was like the midday sun on the desert.

  “Turrn off the lamp!” Caroline snapped from under the desk. But as Meredith moved to do it Bonnie heard a surprisingly loud explosion and saw the red-swathed shade go dark by itself.

  And one thing more.

  The hallway light swept across Caroline’s room like a beacon as the door swung shut. Caroline was already tearing at something with her teeth. Something with the texture of meat, but not cooked meat.

  Bonnie jerked back to run and almost knocked over Mrs. Forbes.

  The woman was still standing in the hall where she had been when they went into Caroline’s room. She didn’t even look as if she’d been listening at the door. She was just standing, staring at nothing.

  “I have to show you out,” she said in her soft, gray voice. She didn’t lift her head to meet Bonnie’s or Meredith’s eyes. “You might get lost otherwise. I do.”

  It was a straight shot to the stairs and down and four steps to the front door. But as they walked, Meredith didn’t say anything, and Bonnie couldn’t.

  Once outside, Meredith turned to look at Bonnie.

  “Well? Is she more possessed by the malach or the werewolf part of her? Or could you tell anything from her aura?”

  Bonnie heard herself laugh, a sound that was like crying.

  “Meredith, her aura isn’t human—and I don’t know what to make of it. And her mother doesn’t seem to have an aura at all. They’re just—that house is just—”

  “Never mind, Bonnie. You don’t have to go there ever again.”

  “It’s like…” But Bonnie didn’t know how to explain the fun-house look of the walls or the way the stairs went down instead of up.

  “I think,” she said finally, “that you’d better do some more research. On things like—like possession of the American kind.”

  “You mean like possession by demons?” Meredith shot her a sharp look.

  “Yes. I guess so. Only I don’t know where to start listing what’s wrong with her.”

  “I have a few ideas of my own,” Meredith said quietly. “Like—did you notice that she never showed us her hands? That was very strange, I thought.”

  “I know why,” Bonnie whispered, trying not to let the sobbing laughter out. “It’s because—she doesn’t have fingernails anymore.”

  “What did you say?”

  “She put her hands around my wrists. I could feel them.”

  “Bonnie, you’re not making any sense.”

  Bonnie made herself speak. “Caroline has claws now, Meredith. Real claws. Like a wolf.”

  “Or maybe,” Meredith said in a whisper, “like a fox.”

  6

  Elena was using all her considerable talents at negotiation to calm Matt down, encouraging him to order a second and third Belgian waffle; smiling at him across the table. But it wasn’t much good. Matt was moving as if he were driven to rush, while at the same time he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He’s still imagining Damon swooping down and terrorizing some young girl, Elena thought helplessly.

  Damon wasn’t there when they stepped out of the coffee shop. Elena saw the frown between Matt’s eyebrows begin and had a brainstorm.

  “Why don’t we take the Jag to a used-car dealership? If we’re going to give up the Jaguar, I want your advice on what we get in return.”

  “Yeah, my advice on beat-up, falling-apart heaps has got to be the best,” Matt said, with a wry smile that said he knew Elena was managing him, but he didn’t mind.

  The single car dealership in the town didn’t look very promising. But even it was not as depressed-looking as the owner of the lot. Elena and Matt found him asleep inside a small office building with dirty windows. Matt tapped gently on the smudged window and eventually the ma
n started, jerked up in his chair, and angrily waved them away.

  But Matt tapped again on the window when the man began to put his head down once more, and this time the man sat up very slowly, gave them a look of bitter despair, and came to the door.

  “What do you want?” he demanded.

  “A trade-in,” Matt said loudly before Elena could say it softly.

  “You teenagers have a car to trade,” the little man said darkly. “In all my twenty years owning this place—”

  “Look.” Matt stepped back to reveal the brilliant red Jag shining in the morning sun like a giant rose on wheels. “A brand-new Jaguar XZR. Zero to sixty in 3.7 seconds! A 550-horsepower supercharged AJ-V8 GEN III R engine with 6-speed ZF automatic transmission! Adaptive Dynamics and Active Differential for exceptional traction and handling! There is no car like the XZR!” Matt finished nose to nose with the little man, whose mouth had slowly come open as his eyes flickered between the car and the boy.

  “You want to trade that in for something on this lot?” he said, shocked into frank disbelief. “As if I’d have the cash to—waitaminute!” he interrupted himself. His eyes stopped flickering and became the eyes of a poker player. His shoulders came up, but his head didn’t, giving him the appearance of a vulture.

  “Don’t want it,” he said flatly and made as if to go back into the office.

  “What do you mean you don’t want it? You were drooling over it a minute ago!” Matt shouted, but the man had stopped wincing. His expression didn’t change.

  I should have done the talking, Elena thought. I wouldn’t have gotten into a war from word one—but it’s too late now. She tried to shut out the male voices and looked at the dilapidated cars on the lot, each with its own dusty little sign tucked into the windshield: 10 PERCENT OFF FOR XMAS! EASY CREDIT! CLEAN! GRANNY-OWNED SPECIAL! NO DOWN-PAYMENT! CHECK IT OUT! She was afraid she was going to burst into tears at any second.

  “No call for a car like that around here,” the owner was saying expressionlessly. “Who’d buy it?”

  “You’re crazy! This car will bring customers flocking in. It’s—it’s advertising! Better than that purple hippo over there.”

  “Not a hippo. S’an elephant.”

  “Who can tell, with it half deflated like that?”

  With dignity, the owner stalked over to look at the Jag. “Not brand-new. S’got too many miles on it.”

  “It was bought only two weeks ago.”

  “So? In a few more weeks, Jaguar will be advertising next year’s cars.” The owner waved a hand at Elena’s giant rose of a vehicle. “Obsolete.”

  “Obsolete!”

  “Yeah. Big car like this, gas guzzler—”

  “It’s more energy efficient than a hybrid—!”

  “You think people know that? They see it—”

  “Look, I could take this car anywhere else—”

  “Then take it. On my lot, here and now, that car is barely worth one car in exchange!”

  “Two cars.”

  The new voice came from directly behind Matt and Elena, but the car dealer’s eyes widened as if he had just seen a ghost.

  Elena turned and met Damon’s unfathomable black gaze. He had his Ray-Bans hooked over his T-shirt and was standing with his hands behind his back. He was looking hard at the car dealer.

  A few moments passed, and then…

  “The…silver Prius in the back right corner. Under…under the awning,” the car dealer said slowly, and with a dazed expression—in answer to no question that had been asked aloud. “I’ll…take you there,” he added in a voice to match his expression.

  “Take the keys with you. Let the boy test-drive it,” Damon ordered, and the owner fumbled to show a key ring at his belt, and then walked slowly away, staring at nothing.

  Elena turned to Damon. “One guess. You asked him which was the best car on his lot.”

  “Substitute ‘least disgusting’ and you’d be closer,” Damon said. He flashed a brilliant smile at her for a tenth of a second, and then turned it off.

  “But, Damon, why two cars? I know it’s more fair and all, but what are we going to do with the second car?”

  “Caravan,” Damon said.

  “Oh, no.” But even Elena could see the benefits of this—at least after they held a summit to decide on a rotation schedule between the cars for Elena. She sighed. “Well—if Matt agrees…”

  “Mutt will agree,” Damon said, looking very briefly—very briefly—as innocent as an angel.

  “What have you got behind your back?” Elena said, deciding not to pursue the question of what Damon intended to do to Matt.

  Damon smiled again, but this time it was an odd smile, just a quirk of one side of his mouth. His eyes said it was nothing much. But his right hand came out and it was holding the most beautiful rose Elena had ever seen in her life.

  It was the deepest red rose she had ever seen, yet there wasn’t a hint of purple to it—it was just velvety burgundy, and open at exactly the moment of full bloom. It looked as if it would be plush to the touch, and its vivid green stem, with just a few delicate leaves here and there, was at least eighteen inches long and straight as a ruler.

  Elena resolutely put her own hands behind her back. Damon wasn’t the sentimental type—even when he got on his “Princess of the Night” soapbox. The rose probably had something to do with their journey.

  “Don’t you like it?” Damon said. Elena might be imagining it, but it almost sounded as if he were disappointed.

  “Of course I like it. What’s it for?”

  Damon settled back. “It’s for you, Princess,” he said, looking hurt. “Don’t worry; I didn’t steal it.”

  No—he wouldn’t have stolen it. Elena knew exactly how he would have gotten the rose…but it was so pretty….

  As she still made no move to take the rose, Damon lifted it and allowed the cool, silky-feeling petals to caress her cheek.

  It made her shiver. “Stop it, Damon,” she murmured, but she didn’t seem to be able to step backward.

  He didn’t stop. He used the cool, softly rustling petals to outline the other side of her face. Elena took a deep breath automatically, but what she smelled was not flowerlike at all. It was the smell of some dark, dark wine, something ancient and fragrant that had once made her drunk immediately. Drunk on Black Magic and on her own heady excitement…just to be with Damon.

  But that wasn’t the real me, a small voice in her head protested. I love Stefan. Damon…I want…I want to…

  “Do you want to know why I got this particular rose?” Damon was saying softly, his voice blending in with her memories. “I got it because of its name. It’s a Black Magic rose.”

  “Yes,” Elena said simply. She’d known that before he said it. It was the only name that fit.

  Now Damon was giving her a rose kiss by swirling the blossom in a circle on her cheek and then applying pressure. The firmer petals in the middle pressed into her skin, while the outer petals just brushed it.

  Elena was feeling distinctly light-headed. The day was warm and humid already; how could the rose feel so cool? Now the outermost petals had moved to trace her lips, and she wanted to say no, but somehow the word wouldn’t come.

  It was as if she had been transported back in time, back to the days when Damon had first appeared to her, had first claimed her for his own. When she had almost let him kiss her before she knew his name….

  He hadn’t changed his ideas since then. Vaguely, Elena remembered thinking something like that before. Damon changed other people while remaining unchanged himself.

  But I’ve changed, Elena thought, and suddenly there was quicksand under her feet. I’ve changed so much since then. Enough to see things in Damon I’d never imagined could be there. Not just the wild and angry dark parts, but the gentle parts. The honor and decency that were trapped like veins of gold inside that stone boulder in his mind.

  I have to help him, Elena thought. Somehow, I have to help him—and
the little boy chained outside the boulder.

  These thoughts had trickled slowly through her mind while it seemed separated from her body. She was so involved with them, in fact, that she somehow lost track of her body, and only now did she realize how much closer Damon had gotten. Her back was against one of the sad, sagging cars. And Damon was speaking lightly, but with an undertone of seriousness.

  “A rose for a kiss, then?” he asked. “It is called Black Magic, and I did come by it honestly. Her name was…it was…”

  Damon stopped, and for a moment a look of intense bewilderment flashed across his face. Then he smiled, but it was the warrior’s smile, the brilliant one he turned on and off almost before you were sure you had seen it. Elena sensed trouble. Sure, Damon still didn’t remember Matt’s name correctly, but she had never known him to forget a girl’s name when he was really trying to remember. Especially within minutes of when he must have fed from that girl.

  Shinichi again? Elena wondered. Was he still taking Damon’s memories—only the highlights, of course? The thrills, good or bad? Elena knew that Damon himself was thinking the same thing. His black eyes were smoldering. Damon was furious—but there was a certain vulnerability about his fury.

  Without thinking, Elena put her hands on Damon’s forearms. She ignored the rose, even as he traced the curve of her cheekbone with it. She tried to speak steadily. “Damon, what are we going to do?”

  That was the scene that Matt walked in on. Ran in on, actually. He came weaving through a maze of cars, and dashed around a white SUV with one flat tire, shouting, “Hey, you guys, that Prius is…”

  And then he stopped dead.

  Elena knew what he was seeing: Damon caressing her with the rose, while she was practically embracing him. She let go of Damon’s arms, but she couldn’t back away from him because of the car behind her.

  “Matt—” Elena began, and then her voice trailed off. She had been about to say “This isn’t what it looks like. We’re not in the middle of a cuddle. I’m not really touching him.” But this was what it looked like. She cared about Damon; she had been trying to get through to him….