by L. J. Smith
Wavering, Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment. Her friends were in danger.
But it was true that she needed to be stronger if she was really going to be useful. The agate falcon rested cool against her collarbone—it never seemed to get warm—and she tried to take comfort in its calming properties.
“Trust us,” Zander said again. “We want you back, but not till you’re ready. Believe me, I miss you like crazy, but it’ll all be okay. We’ll hold down the fort.”
“Okay.” Bonnie bit her lip. “I’m going to learn everything that might help us, and then I’m on the first plane back.”
I hope I’m doing the right thing, she thought.
Stefan stared at the row of small white bottles on the drugstore shelf and looked at Elena’s list again. Moisturizer, he read. It seemed like that ought to be simple, but there were fifteen different brands lined up in front of him, divided into different categories: revitalizing, he read, and tone correcting, and age defying.
Age defying? Stefan shook his head. Elena was going to look eighteen forever; surely that wasn’t the one she wanted.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, hoping it wasn’t Elena with more additions to the shopping list.
Damon, said the display.
A bubble of relief rose up in Stefan’s chest. He’d been positive that Damon was fine and would get back in touch when he was ready, and he’d been right. But it was nice to have it confirmed.
“Elena’s been worried about you,” Stefan said in greeting when he answered the phone.
“I guess the Guardians’ bond is still good, then. Nice to know they do quality work,” Damon answered. His voice sounded tired, rougher than Stefan was used to hearing it, and very far away.
“Damon?” Stefan asked, gripping the phone. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
There was a shifting, as if Damon was looking around. “Let’s see,” he said. “Casinos. Sunshine. Yachts. Monaco. Not for long, though, I’m afraid.”
“What’s going on?” Stefan asked, grabbing a bottle of moisturizer at random and tossing it into his basket. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and he shifted the phone to his other ear. “Are you there?”
Damon sighed. “There’s something after Katherine and me,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed. “Wherever we go, packs of vampires come after us. I wanted to know if you had any idea who they are or what’s going on. They’re strong, and there are a lot of them. It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Damon added quickly. “But it’s getting tiresome.”
“That sounds strange,” Stefan began, worried, and then something Damon had said finally clicked. “Wait—you’re traveling with Katherine?” he asked sharply. “Is she hunting for you?” Trust Damon to find a way around the rules the Guardians gave him, he thought. And Katherine, of all people: After everything she’d done, how could Damon trust her?
“You think I’m cheating?” Damon asked, his voice flattening dangerously. “You should know better than anyone, I always keep my word.” There was a long pause, and Stefan kneaded the bridge of his nose between two fingers, feeling guilty. He always assumed the worst of Damon, but that wasn’t fair.
Damon sighed again, wearily. “I didn’t call to fight, little brother,” he said. “I just want to know if you have any idea what’s going on.”
“Right. Sorry. I don’t want to fight either. I know you’re not hunting,” Stefan apologized. It was true: Damon wouldn’t take an unwilling victim, not with Elena so linked to him that she’d be able to tell. “Well, I don’t know if this is related, but there’s another Old One here in town. Solomon. And he’s after Elena.”
“After Elena?” Damon’s voice got sharper, focused. A woman said something behind him—Katherine, Stefan realized—and he replied, his voice muffled, then came back on the line. “Is Elena in danger?”
“It’ll be okay. I’ve hunted a lot of Old Ones since you left. And you know how strong Elena is,” Stefan said. There was no point in making Damon worry; he couldn’t do anything more than the rest of them could. Which seemed to be nothing at this point. “Andrés just got here to help us track Solomon down.”
“And then bing, boom, you’ll take him out,” Damon said lightly. “Nice to know you’ve got things under control. I don’t see how this could be related, though. The vampires coming after us aren’t Old Ones. If anything, they feel … new.”
“New like newly made?” Stefan said. “You should be able to handle them easily, then.”
Damon laughed a short, dry laugh. “You’d think so,” he said. “No, it’s not that they feel newly made, exactly, they’re just … different, I suppose.”
“You’re not making a lot of sense, Damon,” Stefan told him. The drugstore was almost empty, but the elderly cashier was peering at him from the other end of the aisle, her eyebrows raised. Stefan turned away from her, hunching his shoulders. He needed to keep his voice down. That was the problem with small towns: Someone was always watching you.
“When you’ve dealt with your little problem there, why don’t you come out here?” Damon said. There was an artificial lightness to his voice as he added, “Come on, Stefan. It’ll be fun. A little gambling, a little sailing, a little vampire killing. When was the last time you were in Monaco?”
“I can’t,” Stefan said automatically. “I need to be here to protect Elena.”
There was another long pause, and Damon said, grimly, “I thought you said she was fine.”
“She is, but …” Stefan could hear his own voice rising in irritation, and he stopped himself. Damon was his brother, and he’d saved Stefan’s life more than once.
And he knew that, if Damon suspected how bad things were, he would come rushing back to fight on their side. He was better off out of it.
“I’m sorry,” Stefan said, his voice gentle. “Elena will be fine. And I know you and Katherine will survive. You always do.”
“I hope so,” Damon said. “But it sounds like you’ve made your choice, anyway.” The line went dead. Stefan stared down at the phone in his hand for a moment, wondering if he should call Damon back. The cashier down at the end of the store was still watching him. He tucked the phone back into his pocket.
Damon’s tone had been bitter at the end, and Stefan felt bad about it, he really did. His brother had called to ask him for help, something he rarely did, and Stefan had turned him down. Guilt ran sharp through his veins. He couldn’t worry about Damon, he reminded himself. Damon would be fine. It was Elena who mattered.
“Marisol’s amazing,” Andrés said happily. “We’ve been doing research in the rain forest, classifying plants no one knew about before, and we both love it. The life force there is so wonderful; even though she’s not a Guardian, I think she feels it as much as I do.”
Elena watched Andrés’s smile light up his face, his warm brown eyes shine. She remembered how much sorrow he’d carried with him when they first met, after the death of the man who’d raised him. It was good to see the joy shining through him now.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Have you told her you’re a Guardian?”
“Of course.” Andrés sounded surprised. “How could we love each other if she didn’t know the truth about me?”
Elena thought of Matt’s insistence on keeping the supernatural hidden from Jasmine, and shook her head. “I don’t think you could, not forever,” she agreed, feeling a pang of sorrow for Matt.
Stefan’s key rattled in the lock, and Elena and Andrés looked up, smiling in welcome. Stefan smiled back automatically, his eyes searching out Elena’s as they always did. As he leaned over to kiss her hello, Elena noticed tight lines of tension around his mouth.
“Did something happen?” she asked.
“I talked to Damon,” Stefan told her.
“You did?” Relief flooded through Elena, mixed with a slightly miffed feeling: Damon had called Stefan, but not her? After all the messages she had
left him? “Is he okay? Where is he?”
“He’s fine,” Stefan said. “He’s in Monaco.”
Monaco. Glamorous, full of life. Sounded like Damon. But then, why the angry, anxious emotions that had streamed—were still streaming—through the connection between them? “Did he get my messages?” she asked hesitantly. “And the e-mails?”
“He didn’t say,” Stefan told her. “We didn’t talk for very long.”
Elena frowned. “Well, why—” But Stefan was avoiding her eyes, his face closed off tightly. There was something he didn’t want to tell her. Elena bit her lip. Maybe she should let it rest for now. “I’m glad he’s all right, anyway,” she said. “And wait till you hear what we figured out.”
Andrés cleared his throat and broke into a grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We were talking over the situation,” he said, “and I thought of something that may help. Once, back when I first came into my Powers, I needed to trace an animal spirit who had been making trouble in town. The problem was, no one knew who the spirit was: She could have taken any kind of human disguise. My mentor, Javier, and I worked together and I learned how to do, er …” He waved his hand impatiently, looking for the words. “I guess you’d call it a vision spell? I was able to channel my Power through something we knew the spirit had seen in the past and find my way back to what she was seeing in the present.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Stefan said.
Elena bounced on her heels, tugging at his sleeve in her excitement. “If we find something that we know Solomon has looked at, Andrés might be able to see what Solomon’s looking at now!” she exclaimed. “We could figure out where he’s hiding!”
“But we don’t know what he’s seen,” Stefan said, frowning. “The things that happened here, with Sammy and my stave, he must have compelled humans to do.”
“The ice?” Elena wondered. “He wasn’t there, but he must have seen it somehow, right? Could we use the windows, or the bed …?”
Andrés was shaking his head. “I think it has to be something more specific,” he said. “Something Solomon actually laid eyes on, rather than controlling from a distance. And something recent, so a lot of people haven’t seen it since he did. Too many people have been in and out of this apartment since then.”
There was a baffled silence as they all thought.
“The car accident,” Stefan said suddenly. Andrés and Elena stared at him, and then Elena began to smile.
“Of course,” she said. “He would have watched, wouldn’t he? That open road, surrounded by tree cover. It would have been easy for him.” She got up and disappeared into the bedroom. “I haven’t worn this shirt since that day,” she said, coming out with a white shirt in one hand. “I washed out as much of the blood as I could, but it still needs to be dry-cleaned.”
Andrés took it from her, turning the soft fabric over in his hands. “I’ll try,” he said. “Help me. The more Power we can put into this, the better.” Elena took his hand and they both closed their eyes. For several moments, the only sound in the room was their breathing, deep and slow and in time with each other. Stefan held perfectly still.
Elena’s blue eyes and Andrés’s brown ones flew open at the same moment.
“Shining metal,” Andrés said. “A young girl, fighting a tall dark-haired man. No, they’re working out, very formal movements. A big open room.”
“That’s what Jack’s seeing, not Solomon,” Elena said instantly. “Jack saw me in that shirt, too. He must be training with his team.”
“Okay, yes.” Andrés’s eyes were tracking back and forth rapidly, but Elena was sure he wasn’t seeing the room they were in. “A library. Wooden tables, books. Oh, this one feels familiar. Meredith.” He swallowed and tried again, his eyes moving faster. “Oh! I’m seeing through Stefan’s eyes now.” His gaze focused for a moment, snapping out of the trance. “That was curious, seeing myself from outside.”
“Try again,” Elena said. “Push past the people you recognize if you can. I think, other than Jack, Solomon would be the only stranger.”
“Okay.” They closed their eyes and breathed together for a moment, then began again. This time Andrés didn’t speak immediately, his eyes moving more slowly back and forth, as if he was looking hard for something. There was a silence.
Elena was frowning, still holding tightly to Andrés hand, but her gaze shifted to meet Stefan’s. “The apple men,” she said slowly. “The ones who attacked us. They said something about Solomon having yellow eyes.”
The fact had gotten lost in everyone’s excitement over the supposed clue to where Solomon was going to be, but that was a clue, too, wasn’t it? The idea of yellow eyes teased at the back of her mind, reminding her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Does knowing he has yellow eyes help, Andrés?” Stefan asked quietly.
Andrés didn’t answer, but his eyes moved a little faster. When he spoke, he sounded breathless. “A big room,” he said. “Wainscoting, paneling. I can see a formal garden through the windows.” He frowned. “There’s a woman. No, a mannequin. In a long dress, blue, with a full skirt. A large fireplace.”
Stefan looked baffled. “An old mansion?” he asked doubtfully. “Something at the college, maybe?”
But Elena knew. “The Plantation Museum,” she gasped. “Down near the river. It’s got to be.”
Spontaneously, she hugged Andrés, then jumped to her feet and hurled herself into Stefan’s arms. “We can do it,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “We’ve finally got him.”
Stefan nodded and held her close for a second. His arms were strong around her, and, when he kissed her, soft and sweet, she felt a flash of how he wanted to protect her, hold her here forever safe in his arms.
Finally he let go and headed for the closet where they kept his weapons. “Call the others,” he said. “We should attack tonight.”
Meredith felt as tense as the string of a bow, taut and ready to fire. “And I have a crossbow,” she muttered to herself, “so that’s convenient.”
The weapon was smooth and reassuringly heavy in her hand, and she had her hunter’s stave strapped to her back. When she got close enough for the stave to be useful, she would drop the bow.
The sun was setting, its last long rays coloring the horizon. Meredith, Alaric, and Stefan were coming up on the east side of the Plantation Museum, concealed behind the remnants of what had once been slave cabins. Jack’s team, Matt, and the Pack would be circling around the house, ready to approach from any angle.
Her earpiece crackled to life as Jack’s voice said, “In position,” and Trinity answered “In position.”
“In position,” Meredith repeated. Alaric glanced over as he pulled out a crossbow of his own and headed farther into the garden: As the least powerful fighters, he and Matt were supposed to stick to the long-range weapons, keeping their distance from Solomon and whoever was in the house with him. Andrés would hang back, too, wielding his Guardian Powers if he could.
Stefan slipped away from them around the side of the cabins. A minute later, his voice chimed in. “In position.”
The earpieces belonged to Jack’s team, another clever tool from their arsenal. Meredith couldn’t believe she had never thought of using them before. It allowed them all—except for the Pack, who were in wolf form right now—to coordinate their attack from all over the museum and its grounds, fully aware of what everyone else was doing. And the Pack had their own forms of communication, could fight as a unit with no need for speech.
They were all here, and ready. Everyone but Elena. It felt weird to go into a fight without Elena, but Stefan had insisted: Solomon wanted Elena dead, and she would stay as far from him as possible. Elena had argued, but finally had agreed to go to the movies; Solomon wouldn’t come after her in the middle of a crowded theater. Or so they all hoped.
Elena’s lethal blood was with them, though. A thin coat, mixed with water, had been applied to the kill
ing edge of every weapon they carried, and filled the tiny hypodermics in the ends of Meredith’s special hunter’s stave. Meredith only hoped there would be enough to do the job.
The sun sank below the horizon, and the dim security lamps around the museum snapped on. Meredith tested her bowstring and fitted an arrow carefully into place.
At first she’d instinctively objected to the idea of coming after a vampire at night. But the Plantation Museum was full of visitors and workers during the day, and none of them were willing to endanger innocent people if they could possibly help it.
Now Andrés just had to use his Power, strengthened by the life force of the plants in the garden, to sense if Solomon was still seeing the museum, and they could begin. Meredith’s earpiece crackled again, and Andrés’s voice came through, hushed and excited. “He’s here. Solomon’s inside the house. He’s facing a wall, so I can’t tell which floor he’s on.”
Meredith adjusted her grip on her crossbow and slipped forward. The night was silent, almost as if she were alone, but she knew that all around her the others were coming forward, tightening around Solomon’s hiding place like a noose.
A shadowy figure crossed in front of the mansion—a guard, Meredith realized, and she glanced to her right. One of the wolves was already skulking through the bushes toward the figure. He raised his head and looked back at her, cocking his ears forward in a prearranged signal. A vampire, not a compelled human.
Without hesitating, Meredith aimed the crossbow and fired. There was a soft thwack as the bolt found its mark. The vampire fell with a thud. Meredith hurried across the open lawn, staying low, the wolf keeping pace beside her.
She knelt to check the vampire and found the bolt had gone through his heart. The wolf—Daniel, she now realized—sniffed cautiously at the wound and then looked up at Meredith, giving her a single tail wag of approval.