The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unseen

by L. J. Smith

  They’d been traveling together since then. And this much could be said for Katherine: She was infuriating at times, selfish and conceited, but she was never, ever dull.

  More quickly than a human eye could have followed, Damon gracefully dropped from the balcony to the piazza below, his feet landing cat-soft on its cobblestones. Katherine smiled at him and patted the seat of the chair next to her.

  “I’m starving,” Roberto said sulkily, as Damon sat. “Where’s the waitress?”

  Roberto was always complaining, always on edge. Damon remembered what it was like to be a young vampire, restless and unable to settle, but surely he had never been as petulant as Katherine’s latest toy. At least, Damon consoled himself, Roberto wouldn’t be with them for long.

  He wasn’t the first handsome young man Katherine had picked up in their travels. There’d been Hiro in Tokyo and Sven in Stockholm, Nigel in London—Damon had actually liked Nigel, who’d at least had a sense of humor—and Jean-Paul in Paris. Roberto, with his dark hair and cleanly cut features, was just the latest. After a while, Katherine always left them behind.

  But for now, she was still enjoying her new toy, and so Damon would tolerate him. Katherine patted Roberto on the arm soothingly. “Look,” she said. “Here she comes.” A pretty girl from the restaurant at one side of the piazza was hurrying toward their table, carrying a tray piled high with food and drink.

  Damon smiled briefly at the girl as she placed a platter of figs and prosciutto before him. Picking up one of the ripe, firm fruits wrapped in salty meat, he bit into it and licked his lips. He didn’t have to eat human food, of course, but sometimes he enjoyed the novelty of it.

  “Bianca, come here,” Katherine said to the waitress.

  The waitress came and stood beside Katherine’s chair, her face half-eager and half-shy. “Si, signora?” she said breathlessly, “You want—you want something from me?”

  “Yes.” Katherine stood and cupped the girl’s face gently, gazing into her eyes. Damon felt a whisper of her Power. “You remember what I want,” she said softly, soothingly. “It’s all right with you. In fact, you’ll enjoy it. Afterward, you won’t remember anything about this until I tell you to. You’ll just know that you want to do whatever makes us happy.”

  “Of course, yes.” The girl nodded enthusiastically, her long chestnut hair falling across her face, brushing over Katherine’s hand. “Whatever you want.” She held out a hand to Roberto and he took it, cradling it against him as he bit deeply into her wrist and began to drink from the vein there.

  Katherine turned Bianca’s face toward Damon, both girls gazing at him with wide, untroubled eyes. “Do you want some?” Katherine asked. “I’m the one who’s compelled her, so it won’t violate your precious agreement with the Guardians.”

  Damon flinched involuntarily, then covered his reaction with a smile. Taking a sip from his bubbling glass of prosecco, he shook his head. “I don’t want her,” he said coolly, and watched, his face carefully blank and bored, as Katherine angled the girl’s head and sank her fangs smoothly into Bianca’s neck while Roberto continued to suck steadily at her wrist.

  He could, technically, have drunk from the girl. Katherine was right: His deal with the Guardians was that Damon could not compel people to let him feed on them, not without hurting Elena. He could have spent eternity following Katherine, or any other vampire, around the world, feeding on humans they’d compelled for him, like a parasite. But the very notion disgusted him. He was Damon Salvatore, and he was no one’s parasite.

  Besides, he was doing just fine on his own.

  Damon looked up to see Vittoria coming toward him, skirting around the fountain, where the dancing water reflected the lights of the piazza and made soft shadows across her skin. She was young, a university student, and still lived with her parents; she would have had to lie to them about where she was going. Her dark curls were knotted in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she held herself very straight, walking with the grace of a dancer. He got to his feet to meet her.

  Vittoria glanced at Katherine and Roberto, drinking steadily from Bianca, then walked around them gingerly, averting her gaze. She stopped to stand before Damon.

  “It doesn’t hurt her,” he said. “She’ll be all right; she won’t even remember.”

  “I know,” Vittoria said solemnly, her eyes wide and disconcertingly trusting. Damon held out his hand, and Vittoria took it. Hand in hand, they crossed the piazza and sat on the edge of the fountain together.

  “Are you sure about this?” Damon said, tracing the shape of Vittoria’s fingers with his own. “I don’t love you; you know that.”

  “I—I don’t mind,” Vittoria said, her cheeks flushing. “What you do to me. I like it,” she added in a hushed, half-embarrassed voice.

  “As long as you’re sure,” he told her, and she nodded, swallowing hard. Damon stroked a stray strand of hair back behind Vittoria’s ear and pulled her closer. His sensitive canines extended and sharpened, and, as gently as he knew how, Damon slid them into the vein at the side of Vittoria’s neck.

  She stiffened in pain and then relaxed against him, her blood bursting into his mouth like the juice of a ripe plum. It wasn’t as rich as Elena’s, but it was sweet, filling Damon’s mind with the images of young, soft-featured girls from his distant past, looking up at him with love and desire.

  He remembered how nervous he’d been when he’d left Elena, how worried that, if he couldn’t compel humans to let him feed, he would go hungry, or be reduced to stalking squirrels and foxes like his little brother. But it had turned out to be surprisingly easy.

  He couldn’t use his Power to compel human girls, but he could charm them. He could talk to them, flirt with them, smile into their eyes just as he had in Florence five hundred years ago, back when he was human and angling for nothing more than a kiss or two. It surprised him, how easily it came back to him. And he liked the girls he charmed, even loved each of them a little in his own way. Though he forgot them as soon as he and Katherine moved on.

  It was very late by the time he’d finished and released Vittoria. She brushed a shy kiss against his lips and hurried away with a murmured good-bye, twisting a silk scarf around her neck to hide the mark of his bite.

  Damon leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. He felt someone sit down beside him, and shifted over to make room for Katherine.

  “It’s a nice night,” she said, and Damon nodded.

  “Clear, too.” He pointed. “Polaris, the North Star,” he said. “Leda, the Swan. They don’t change, any more than we do.”

  Katherine laughed, a high, silvery sound like the ringing of a bell. “Oh, we change,” she said. “Just look at us.”

  It was true, Damon thought, smiling despite himself at the challenge in her eyes. He’d known quite a few Katherines: the shy, clinging girl he’d met back home when he was human and she was newly made; the madwoman who’d pursued him to Fell’s Church; and then this harder, brighter Katherine who had become, strangely, a friend. And he wasn’t the angry young vampire who had woken on a cold stone slab beside his brother all those centuries ago, not anymore.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted.

  “Of course I’m right. Now, I’m thinking we should stay here for a while,” Katherine said. “Roberto says the palazzo’s owner wants to sell. We could settle in.”

  Damon sighed. “Everyone here knows who we are already,” he said. “You feed on anyone who catches your fancy. It’ll all end in pitchforks and torches, like a horror movie.”

  Katherine laughed again and patted his knee. “Nonsense,” she said firmly. “They love us here. We haven’t killed anyone at all, thanks to your newfound morals. To them, we’re just the beautiful rich people in the palazzo who sleep all day.”

  Damon looked back up at the stars. Katherine was probably right; they were in no danger. He imagined staying here for a few years: eating figs, tossing coins in the fountain, drinking from sweet
Vittoria and eventually her replacement.

  But sooner or later, they would leave and continue their wanderings across the globe: Beijing next, maybe, or Sydney. He’d never been to Australia. He would charm another girl into loving him, taste the richness of her blood, be irritated by Katherine’s latest toy, gaze up at the stars. They were all the same after a while, Damon thought, all the places of the world.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, closing his eyes and reaching again for the faint thrum of Elena inside him. “Whatever you want.”

  “Bonnie liked her present, don’t you think?” Meredith asked, straightening the pillows on the couch. She cast her eye over the rest of the living room: her law books lined up neatly; the coffee table dusted and cleared of Alaric’s research; the carpet vacuumed. She’d been gone for three days tracking Celine with Stefan, and she’d had some tidying to do when she returned. Alaric wasn’t a slob, but he didn’t keep things exactly the way Meredith did.

  As she walked over to twitch the curtains straight, she caught Alaric’s eye. He was leaning against the doorframe and looking amused, a mug in one hand.

  “You knew I was compulsive when you married me,” she said, and Alaric’s face split into a grin.

  “I did,” he said, “and I married you anyway. But yeah, I think Bonnie loved the earrings.” He crossed the room and laid his free hand on Meredith’s arm, nudging her gently toward the couch. “Sit down and drink your tea. And then let’s go to bed, it’s late.” She let him pull her onto the couch with him and leaned against him, nestling in Alaric’s warmth. He smelled good, clean and soapy with an underlying Alaric-y whiff of spice.

  “I’m glad to be home,” she told him, and snuggled closer still. She was getting sleepy. “I’d better study some before I come to bed, though,” she added dutifully. “Mock trial Monday. We’re all really stressed out.” The mock trials competition was a big deal, and she was the prosecuting attorney for her team.

  Meredith adored law school. It was a culmination of all her love of logic and study, rules and case histories and solvable problems lining up in neat rows for her to master.

  Kicking off her shoes, she curled her feet under her and sipped her tea, grimacing at the bitter, acidic taste of vervain. The mix of herbs Bonnie concocted for her friends was heavy on the vervain—which protected the drinker from being compelled—but the first taste was always unpleasant.

  “More honey?” Alaric asked, but Meredith shook her head.

  “I want to taste all of it,” she said, and tried another sip, concentrating. The second time, it wasn’t quite so bad. Underneath the bitterness of the vervain was the faint sweetness of lavender and a rich touch of cinnamon.

  “I don’t know why you won’t just sweeten it up,” Alaric said, shifting so that he could dig his thumbs into her vertebrae, kneading her shoulders with his fingers. “That’s nasty stuff.”

  “I want to taste it all,” Meredith repeated sleepily. It had been a long day, several long days, and she was ready to spoon up against Alaric in their wide, soft bed and go to sleep. Work, she reminded herself. You’re going to win this trial.

  Alaric worked a knot out of her shoulders, and Meredith moaned in pleasure. “You have no idea how tight my back got while we were gone,” she told him.

  “Oh, Stefan doesn’t do this?” Alaric said teasingly. “Thank God, I was wondering what I had to offer that your hunting partner couldn’t.”

  “Trust me, you’ve got lots to offer,” Meredith said with a smile. Alaric brushed her hair aside and focused on the massage while she looked happily around the room. Her law books sat on the shelf, her slim silver computer on the desk next to a stack of Alaric’s old manuscripts. Her hunting stave, in its case, was tucked in the corner. On the side table were various pictures of their friends, their wedding.

  And a picture of Meredith, ten years younger, her arms around her twin brother, Cristian, both of them grinning. She didn’t really remember Cristian—this reality where they’d grown up together was one the Guardians had created—and she didn’t like to think about his death. Becoming a vampire was one of the worst fates she could imagine for a hunter.

  Half-consciously, she leaned back against Alaric’s hands, and he kneaded her muscles harder, comforting. Lately, she’d been coming to terms with the idea of Cristian. He’d grown up part of her family, in this life, and he mattered, whether Meredith remembered the young boy in the picture or not.

  All the elements that made up her life—hunting, school, becoming a lawyer, her friends, her family, Alaric—they all mattered. She’d been so used to thinking of hunting as what defined her—that everything else was a gloss over her secret life, part of her disguise. That all she truly was, was a hunter.

  But Meredith was going to be a lawyer now. She was somebody’s wife. She was a friend and a daughter, and once she’d been a sister. These things were real to her, and they all mattered. Just like Bonnie’s vervain tea, the bitter and sweet and spicy all mixing together, making up a whole.

  “I want to taste it all,” she murmured a third time, sleepily, and Alaric snorted with laughter.

  “You’re just about talking in your sleep,” he said. “Time for bed. Everything will still be there in the morning.” He swung her up into his arms, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, giggling sleepily, as he carried her to bed.

  It was a beautiful night. Stefan opened his senses to everything around him, unusually eager to drink it all in. He could smell magnolia flowers in the yard of a house a few blocks away, the spices and grease of three different restaurants on the street he and Elena were walking up, the sour scent of beer coming from a bar halfway down the street, the warring perfumes of three girls getting out of a car near the curb. He could hear a hundred conversations, from the drunken argument of four frat boys in the bar to the loving whispers of a newly engaged couple in the Indian restaurant. In the apartment over a storefront farther down the block, a sad song played on a cheap radio.

  The world had so much in it. He could feel the slow beat of his own heart, slower than a human’s, and for once, its pace didn’t feel like a reproach. For once, despite everything, despite what he was, Stefan felt alive.

  So much to hear, to smell, to see, to feel. And most of all, Elena. Her hand was soft and strong in his, and she smiled at him, radiating love like a vibrant, glowing sun. His mind brushed against hers, and he could feel her welcoming him home, the familiarity and warmth of her.

  He stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed her. All the sensations and impressions that had been flooding through him narrowed down into one thing: Elena’s lips, soft against his. Elena’s warm breath. He sent her thoughts of love, and of forever, and she sent them back to him.

  When they broke apart, they clung to each other for a moment breathlessly. Then Elena smiled and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “You’re happy to be home,” she said.

  Stefan took her hands in his. “Now that Celine is dead, there can’t be too many Old Ones left,” he said. “When we find them, we can kill them, and then we’ll be able to do anything we want, go anywhere we want.”

  Elena frowned, her eyes puzzled. “We can do anything we want now, Stefan,” she said. “We don’t have to wait and be sure all the Old Ones are dead. We can’t wait for that.”

  Twining his fingers with Elena’s, Stefan smiled down into her eyes. “Remember how, when you drank the water from the Fountain of Eternal Youth and Life, you told me you finally knew what our future would look like?” he asked. “I’ve always known—I’ve known for so long that you were my future, that you were the only thing I needed.”

  Elena’s eyes shone. “I know,” she said. “Stefan, I want that, too. I want forever.” Then her mouth lifted into a mischievous grin. “But we’ve got forever, don’t we?” She moved closer to him still, her soft hair brushing his cheek, her lips only millimeters from his, teasingly light. “I want to enjoy right now.”

  Stefan was
lowering his head to meet her lips once more when someone suddenly lurched against them. Elena’s breath puffed out in a soft huff of surprise, and she stumbled back a little, away from Stefan.

  Immediately tense, Stefan felt himself fall into a fighting stance, his hands drawn up in fists. It took him a moment to realize there was nothing sinister here, no one he needed to defend Elena from. Just a group of people coming out of a bar, accidentally brushing against them. He shook off his aggression; he’d spent too long on the hunt lately.

  “Sorry, sorry,” one of the guys said, holding up his hands apologetically. He smiled at them. “My fault. Are you okay?”

  The stranger was tall, taller than Stefan, with sharp cheekbones, longish sand-colored hair, and curiously yellowish-green eyes, glowing like a cat’s, or a coyote’s. He wasn’t a vampire, though, Stefan sensed with a quick brush of Power—just another human out for an evening with his friends. Elena murmured that everything was fine, no harm done.

  “It was our fault,” Stefan said courteously, and moved aside. But the stranger didn’t walk on right away. He was looking at Elena. Their eyes caught for a moment, Elena’s face creasing into a tiny frown as her clear blue gaze met the stranger’s yellowish-green one—and then the moment was over. Stefan shook off the strange feeling their locked gazes had given him. Elena was beautiful; he should be used to people looking at her. With another murmured apology, the stranger moved on down the street, his friends reforming into a group around him.

  Elena turned her attention back to Stefan, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him back down for another kiss. “Where were we?” she said, laughing up at him. “Right here? Right now?”