And so they slowly spiraled up in the moonlight, the white nightgown sometimes wrapping itself around his black-clad legs, until they reached the top of the trees, living and standing but dead.
It was a very solemn, very private ceremony of their own, and they were far too lost in joy to look out for any danger. But Stefan had already checked for that, and he knew that Elena had, too. There was no danger; there was only the two of them, drifting and bobbing with the moon shining down like a benediction.
One of the most useful things Damon had learned lately — more useful than flying, although that had been something of a kick — was to shield his presence absolutely.
He had to drop all his barriers, of course. They would show up even in a casual scan. But that didn’t matter, because if no one could see him, no one could find him. And therefore he was safe. Q.E.D.
But tonight, after walking out of the boardinghouse, he had gone out to the Old Wood to find himself a tree to sulk in.
It wasn’t that he minded what human trash thought of him, he thought venomously. It would be like worrying what a chicken thought of him just before he wrung its neck. And, of all things he cared least about, his brother’s opinion was number one.
But Elena had been there. And even if she had understood — had made efforts to get the others to understand — it was just too humiliating, being thrown out in front of her.
And so he had retired, he thought bitterly, into the only retreat he could call home. Although that was a little ridiculous, since he could have spent the night in Fell’s Church’s best hotel (its only hotel) or with any number of sweet young girls who might invite a weary traveler in for a drink…of water. A wave of Power to put the parents to sleep, and he could have had shelter, as well as a warm and willing snack, until morning.
But he was in a vicious mood, and he just wanted to be alone. He was a little afraid to hunt. He wouldn’t be able to control himself with a panicked animal in his present state of mind. All he could think of was ripping and tearing and making somebody very, very unhappy.
The animals were coming back, though, he noticed, careful to use only ordinary senses and nothing that would betray his presence. The night of horror was over for them, and they tended to have very short memories.
Then, just as he had been reclining on a branch, wishing that Mutt, at least, had sustained some sort of painful and lasting injury,they had appeared. Out of nowhere, seemingly. Stefan and Elena, hand in hand, floating like a pair of happy wingèd Shakespearean lovers, as if the forest wast heir home.
He hadn’t been able to believe it at first.
And then, just as he was about to call down thunder and sarcasm on them, they had started their love scene.
Right in front of his eyes.
Even floating up to his level, as if to rub it in. They’d begun kissing and caressing and…more.
They’d made an unwilling voyeur out of him, although he’d become more angry and less unwilling as time passed and their caresses had become more passionate. He’d had to grind his teeth, when Stefan had offered Elena his blood. Had wanted to scream that there had been a time when this girl had been his for the taking, when he could have drained her dry and she would have died happily in his arms, when she had obeyed the sound of his voice instinctively and the taste of his blood would make her reach heaven in his arms.
As she obviously was in Stefan’s.
That had been the worst. He’d had to dig his nails into his palms when Elena had wrapped herself around Stefan like a long, graceful snake and had fastened her mouth against his neck, as Stefan’s face had tipped toward the sky, with his eyes shut.
For the love of all the demons in hell, why couldn’t they just get done with it?
That was when he noticed that he wasn’t alone in his well-chosen, commodious tree.
There was someone else there, sitting calmly right beside him on the big branch. They must have appeared while he was engrossed in the love scene and his own fury, but still, that made them very, very good. No one had snuck up on him like that in over two centuries. Three, perhaps.
The shock of it had sent him tumbling off the branch — without turning on his vampire ability to float.
A long lean arm reached out to catch him, to haul him to safety, and Damon found himself gazing into a pair of laughing golden eyes.
Who the hell are you? he sent. He didn’t worry about it being picked up by the lovers in the moonlight. Nothing short of a dragon or an atomic bomb would catch their attention now.
I’m the hell Shinichi, the other boy replied. His hair was the strangest Damon had seen in a while. It was smooth and shiny and black everywhere except for a fringe of uneven dark red at the tips. The bangs he tossed carelessly out of his eyes ended in crimson and so did the little wisps all round his collar — for he wore it slightly long. It looked as if tongues of dancing, flaring flame were licking at the ends of it, and gave singular emphasis to his answer: I’m the hell Shinichi. If anyone could pass as a devil come up straight from Hell, this boy could.
On the other hand, his eyes were the pure golden eyes of an angel.Most people just call me Shinichi alone, he added soberly to Damon, letting those eyes crinkle a little to show that it was a joke.Now you know my name. Who are you?
Damon simply looked at him in silence.
Elena woke up the next morning in Stefan’s narrow bed. She recognized this before she was fully awake and hoped to heaven that she had given Aunt Judith some reasonable excuse last night. Last night — the very concept was extremely fuzzy. What had she been dreaming to make this wakening seem so extraordinary? She couldn’t remember — jeez, she couldn’t remember anything!
And then she remembered everything.
Sitting up with a jolt that would have sent her flying off the bed had she attempted it yesterday, she searched her recollections.
Daylight. She remembered daylight, full light on her — and she didn’t have her ring. She took a frantic look at both hands. No ring. And she was sitting up in a shaft of sunlight and it wasn’t hurting her. It wasn’t possible. She knew, she remembered with a raw memory that pervaded every cell of her body, that daylight would kill her. She had learned that lesson with a single touch of a sunbeam to her hand. She would never forget the searing, scalding pain: the touch had imprinted a behavior on her forever. Go nowhere without the lapis lazuli ring that was beautiful in itself, but more beautiful in the knowledge that it was her savior. Without it, she might, she would …
Oh.Oh.
But she already had, hadn’t she?
She’d died.
Not simply Changed as she had when she’d become a vampire, but died the true death that no one came back from. In her own personal philosophy, she ought to have disintegrated into nameless atoms, or gone straight to hell.
Instead she hadn’t really gone anywhere. She’d had some dreams about fatherly or motherly people giving her advice — and of wanting very much to help people, who were suddenly much easier to understand. School bully? She had watched sadly as his drunken father took his own outrages out on him night after night. That girl who never got her homework done? She was expected to raise three younger sisters and brothers while her mother lay in bed all day. Just getting the baby fed and cleaned took all the time she had. There was always a reason behind any behavior, and now she could see it.
She had even communicated with people through their dreams. And then one of the Old Ones had arrived in Fell’s Church, and it was all she could do to stand his interference in the dreams and not run away. He caused the humans to call for Stefan’s help — and Damon had accidentally been summoned, too. And Elena had helped them all she could even when it had been almost unbearable, because Old Ones knew about love and which buttons to push and how to make your enemies run in all the right directions. But they had fought him — and they had won. And Elena, in trying to heal Stefan’s mortal wounds, had somehow ended up mortal again herself: naked, lying on the ground of the Old Wood, with Damon’s jacket over her, while Damon himself had disappeared without waiting for thanks.
And that awakening had been of basic things: things of the senses: touch, taste, hearing, sight — and of the heart, but not of the head. Stefan had been so good to her.
“And now, what am I?” Elena said aloud, staring as she turned her hands over and over, marveling at the solid, mortal flesh that obeyed the laws of gravity. She had said that she’d give up flying for him. Someone had taken her at her word.
“You’re beautiful,” Stefan answered absently, not moving. Then suddenly he rocketed up. “You’re talking!”
“I know I am.”
“And making sense!”
“Thank you kindly.”
“And in sentences!”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Go on, then, and say something long — please,” Stefan said as if he didn’t believe it.
“You’ve been hanging out too much with my friends,” Elena said. “That sentence has Bonnie’s impudence, Matt’s courtesy, and Meredith’s insistence on the facts.”
“Elena, it’s you!”
Instead of keeping up the silly dialogue with “Stefan, it is me!” Elena stopped to think. Then, carefully she got out of bed and took a step. Stefan hastily looked away, handing her a robe.Stefan? Stefan?