“Do you realize where we are?” Damon demanded in a furious whisper.
Bonnie nodded, seeming happy about having figured that out already. “We’re basically in deep burgundy—”
“Crap!”
Bonnie looked around. “I don’t smell anything,” she offered cautiously, and examined the soles of her feet.
“We are,” Damon said slowly and quietly, as if he needed to calm himself between every word, “in a world where we can be flogged, flayed, and decapitated just for stepping on the ground.”
Bonnie tried a little hop and then a jump in place, as if diminishing her groundinteraction time might help them in some manner. She looked at him for further instructions.
Quite suddenly, Damon picked her up and stared at her hard, as revelation dawned. “You’re drunk!” he finally whispered. “You’re not even awake! All this while I’ve been trying to get you to see sense, and you’re a drunken sleepwalker!”
“I am not!” Bonnie said. “And…just in case I am, you ought to be nicer to me. You made me this way.”
Some distant part of Damon agreed that this was true. He was the one who’d gotten the girl drunk and then drugged her with truth serum and sleeping medicine.
But that was simply a fact, and had nothing to do with how he felt about it. How he felt was that there was no possible way for him to proceed with this all-too-gentle creature along.
Of course, the sensible thing would be to get away from her very quickly, and let the city, this huge metropolis of evil, swallow her in its great, black-fanged maw, as it would most certainly do if she walked a dozen steps on its streets without him.
But, as before, something inside him simply wouldn’t let him do it. And, he realized, the sooner he admitted that, the sooner he could find a place to put her and begin taking care of his own affairs.
“What’s that?” he said, taking one of her hands.
“My opal ring,” Bonnie said proudly. “See, it goes with everything, because it’s all colors. I always wear it; it’s casual or dress-up.” She happily let Damon take it off and examine it.
“These are real diamonds on the sides?”
“Flawless, pure white,” Bonnie said, still proudly. “Lady Ulma’s fiancé Lucen made it so that if we ever needed to take the stones out and sell them—” She came up short. “You’re going to take the stones out and sell them! No! No no no no no!”
“Yes! I have to, if you’re going to have any chance of surviving,” Damon said.
“And if you say one more word or fail to do exactly as I tell you, I am going to leave you alone here. And then you will die.” He turned narrowed, menacing eyes on her.
Bonnie abruptly turned into a frightened bird. “All right,” she whispered, tears gathering on her eyelashes. “What’s it for?”
Thirty minutes later, she was in prison; or as good as. Damon had installed her in a second-story apartment with one window covered by roller blinds, and strict instructions about keeping them down. He had pawned the opal and a diamond successfully, and paid a sour, humorless-looking landlady to bring Bonnie two meals a day, escort her to the toilet when necessary, and otherwise forget about her existence.
“Listen,” he said to Bonnie, who was still crying silently after the landlady had left them, “I’ll try to get back to see you within three days. If I don’t come within a week it’ll mean I’m dead. Then you — don’t cry! Listen! — then you need to use these jewels and this money to try to get all the way from here to here; where Lady Ulma will still be — we hope.”
He gave her a map and a little moneybag full of coins and gems left over from the cost of her bread and board. “If that happens — and I can pretty well promise it won’t, your best chance is to try walking in the daytime when things are busy; keep your eyes down, your aura small, and don’t talk to anyone. Wear this sacking smock, and carry this bag of food. Pray that nobody asks you anything, but try to look as if you’re on an errand for your master. Oh, yes.” Damon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small iron slave bracelets, bought when he had gotten the map. “Never take them off, not when you’re sleeping, not when you’re eating — never.”
He looked at her darkly, but Bonnie was already on the threshold of a panic attack. She was trembling and crying, but too frightened to say a word. Ever since entering the Dark Dimension she’d been keeping her aura as small as possible, her psychic defenses high; she didn’t need to be told to do that. She was in danger.
She knew it.
Damon finished somewhat more leniently. “I know it sounds difficult, but I can tell you that I personally have no intention whatsoever of dying. I’ll try to visit you, but getting across the borders of the various sectors is dangerous, and that’s what I may have to do to come here. Just be patient, and you’ll be all right. Remember, time passes differently here than back on Earth. We can be here for weeks and we’ll get back practically the instant we set out. And, look”—Damon gestured around the room—“dozens of star balls! You can watch all of them.”
These were the more common kind of star ball, the kind that had, not Power in them, but memories, stories, or lessons. When you held one to your temple, you were immersed in whatever material had been imprinted on the ball.
“Better than TV,” Damon said. “Much.”
Bonnie nodded slightly. She was still crushed, and she was so small, so slight, her skin so pale and fine, her hair such a flame of brilliance in the dim crimson light that seeped through the blinds, that as always Damon found himself melting slightly.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked her finally.
Bonnie said slowly, “And — you’re going to be…?”
“Out getting the vampire versions of Who’s Who and the Book of Peers,” Damon said. “I’m looking for a lady of quality.”
After Damon had left, Bonnie looked around the room.
It was horrible. Dark brown and just horrible! She had been trying to save Damon from going back into the Dark Dimension because she remembered the terrible way that slaves — who were mostly humans — were treated.
But did he appreciate that? Did he? Not in the slightest! And then when she’d been falling through the light with him, she’d thought that at least they would be going to Lady Ulma’s, the Cinderella-story woman whom Elena had rescued and who had then regained her wealth and status and had designed beautiful dresses so that the girls could go to fancy parties. There would have been big beds with satin sheets and maids who brought strawberries and clotted cream for breakfast.
There would have been sweet Lakshmi to talk to, and gruff Dr. Meggar, and…
Bonnie looked around the brown room and the plain rush-filled pallet with its single blanket. She picked up a star ball listlessly, and then let it drop from her fingers.
Suddenly, a great sleepiness filled her, making her head swim. It was like a fog rolling in. There was absolutely no question of fighting it. Bonnie stumbled toward the bed, fell onto it, and was asleep almost before she had settled under the blanket.
“It’s my fault far more than yours,” Stefan was saying to Meredith. “Elena and I were — deeply asleep — or he’d never have managed any part of it. I’d have noticed him talking with Bonnie. I’d have realized he was taking you hostage. Please don’t blame yourself, Meredith.”
“I should have tried to warn you. I just never expected Bonnie to come running out and grab him,” Meredith said. Her dark gray eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Elena squeezed her hand, sick in the pit of her stomach herself.
“You certainly couldn’t be expected to fight off Damon,” Stefan said flatly.
“Human or vampire — he’s trained; he knows moves that you could never counter.
You can’t blame yourself.”
Elena was thinking the same thing. She was worried about Damon’s disappearance — and terrified for Bonnie. Yet at another level of her mind she was wondering at the lacerations on Meredith’s palm that she was trying to warm. The strangest thing was that the wounds appeared to have been treated — rubbed slick with lotion. But she wasn’t going to bother Meredith about it at a time like this.
Especially when it was really Elena’s own fault. She was the one who had enticed Stefan the night before. Oh, they had been deep, all right — deep in each other’s minds.
“Anyway, it’s Bonnie’s fault if it’s anyone’s,” Stefan said regretfully. “But now I’m worried about her. Damon’s not going to be inclined to watch out for her if he didn’t want her to come.”
Meredith bowed her head. “It’s my fault if she gets hurt.”
Elena chewed her lower lip. There was something wrong. Something about Meredith, that Meredith wasn’t telling her. Her hands were really damaged, and Elena couldn’t figure out how they could have gotten that way.
Almost as if she knew what Elena was thinking, Meredith slipped her hand out of Elena’s and looked at it. Looked at both her palms, side by side. They were equally scratched and torn.
Meredith bent her dark head farther, almost doubling over where she sat. Then she straightened, throwing back her head like someone who had made a decision.