Hello Readers! Sorry for the late update. Here is an extra long chapters. Now, this is a very chaotic chapter. It has a lot of Damon in it as well as a little bit of Stefan. The best part though, you all get to see the OC Beatrice Blackwell in action and her to go head on with Damon. Lots of questions are answered, but many more questions are left unanswered and new questions are created. This a chapter of confrontations. I hope you like it, and I hope you find Beatrice interesting. I would really like all of your input on it. So, please review. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries...
Dying Once, Living Twice
Chapter Three
As soon as the next day came and Damon was sufficiently sure he wasn't hung over, he had his breakfast, a perky obviously fake redhead he picked up, and then compelled to forget everything, and he started implementing his new plan. Phase One was eyes on the target, the target being the ever elusive and sinfully sexy Ms. Blackwell.
So he did what he did best, what came naturally to a vampire, he started stalking her, following her constantly, finding out every little insignificant detail of her day-today life and since no one even knew, especially not her that he was following her around, he took his time enjoying the view she provided. He had to admit, this Blackwell was one tempting package. She teased all his senses just right.
He had been outside her house early in the morning. He wanted to get up in her balcony and take a peek inside, but his feet froze far away from the house. So he watched from the shadows of some trees. He knew that he was nervous and he didn't have it in him to use his favorite raven to spy on her by the window. He knew that she lived all alone in that house and there really wasn't anyone to stand in his way; it was all too easy. But he couldn't explain the sudden nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something felt wrong about it.
A part of his actually incredulously questioned himself. It couldn't be that he had suddenly gained morals and was opposed to peeking on a girl from the windows! But whatever it was, he stayed away from the house and spied as best as he could from his vantage point. A small part of him whispered how it maybe his guilt that was keeping him away from this Blackwell. He shook that thought away instantly.
Yet, he stayed far away from that cozy looking house and watched from afar. He knew her everyday routine very well. She woke up at six every morning and took a long time to get dressed, Damon always enjoyed staring at her via the large window of her bedroom. She took pride in her appearance and clearly made the effort. So very unlike his Elizabeth, who hated dresses with a passion and hair brushes even more. This Blackwell actually was the opposite, she loved dresses and skirts, and she spent some time in front of her dressing table.
Then she cooked breakfast for herself. It was quite clear that she loved cooking and from the smell of things, she was actually very proficient in it, again, something Elizabeth was terrible at when she had tried it a few times in secret. Damon thought she looked very lonely sitting at the kitchen table or the balcony, eating alone and always looking lost in her thoughts.
There were numerous instances when Damon wondered with fascination which thoughts plagued this Blackwell woman so often. Her face, was again very unusual from his Elizabeth's. No one needed to ever guess what Elizabeth was thinking, she was a very open and emotional person, her thoughts and feelings always reflected on her face; her expressions always gave things away. But this Blackwell, even with her resemblance with his Elizabeth, she was a locked up vault. Her face was always impassive and gave nothing away, an impressive and odd feat for a human, especially one as young as her.
It was during those times that Damon couldn't deny the fact that he felt that he and she both had so much in common. He knew the very definition of loneliness and how crippling it could be, he knew exactly how to put up fronts and the invincible of personas, he knew exactly how to become a bad guy so that no one dared to hurt him and most importantly he knew exactly how to mask all the inner workings of his mind and the chaotic storm deep inside himself and tucked safely behind a carefully put mask; she knew how to do it as well, she knew exactly what he went through because from what he could read on her, she was doing exactly what he had been doing since he was a human.
How strange it was that with both the Blackwells, first Elizabeth and now this one, he always found something that marked a commonality between them. Elizabeth was a ray of sunshine in his human life and she was so much different to him in personality, but she suffered some similar betrayals and pains in her life, so she provided him with empathy and understanding. This Blackwell, he hadn't interacted with her yet, but she was similar to him too. This one he just knew from the instant he saw her, this one wasn't anything like his cheery and sunny Elizabeth, this one was just as dark and twisted as him on the inside.
He continued watching her, observing her, analyzing her every small movement and memorizing her as much as he could from a distance. After her breakfast she would leave for her shop, always at the same time and always opening early, but before she opened her shop, she always made a stop to the shop beside hers. She always checked in on the old woman's book store beside her shop. Apparently the old woman was an early riser and this Blackwell always exchanged a few pleasantries with her and even bought a few items before she opened her shop, each day, every day.
But her interaction with the old lady lacked the warmth and kindness that his Elizabeth possessed. There was a certain quirky smile on her bright red lips and a mischievous glint in her grey-green eyes, but that was it. It looked more like the old woman was showering her with affection that only grandparents know how to bestow, and she was merely receiving it. She liked being pampered by the old lady, but still she kept her at a distance.
Then her day started off with the force of a human hurricane. It always amazed Damon when he saw her enter the shop first thing in the morning. All that calm impassive façade slipped away and she zoomed through her shop fixing, filing, making calls, taking things in and out of storage and organizing all the tasks for the day. She had this unwavering focus which fascinated Damon.
The hurricane in the shop never lasted for more than two hours. Then, she would lazily slip back into her calm and cool persona. She would wait around in the shop for another hour, if any customer did come or not. By the time one of her assistants arrived to take over the shop, she would leave if she had any meetings appointed. One of her assistants was a unique young man and a part of Damon scoffed at the face of the good-looking man. He was blind, who in hell's name hired a blind shop keeper? Damon smirked, so she must have pitied him. But that kind of went against her personality. She didn't have an ounce of kindness in her, at least not what she showed publicly.
It was after a few days of watching that he got the gist of it. The blind guy was particularly talented when it came to selling things, excellent salesman and while his employer was a cool detached person who took pleasure in talking down to people, he was the one with the charisma who sold things. The man could sell anything and he had charmed almost all the women in town, and it didn't hurt the fact that he was quick with numbers, knew the shop intimately and had very sensitive senses. He was a trustworthy employee, and from what he had overheard from some people in town, the blind man actually took extreme pride in the fact that Beatrice Blackwell had employed him and not anyone else, after all according to Beatrice Blackwell everyone in town was an incompetent fool and he was efficient and that was the highest compliment one could receive from her. Damon personally thought the blind idiot sounded like a love-sick fool.
While the blind salesman managed the shop, she would flit about town and handle her numerous other business meetings. The more Damon watched her meetings, the more he learned exactly how much influence and power she had over so many people in town. She literally owned half the town. Damon particularly enjoyed when she went into town going about collecting her dues, be it rent or interest owed or the payment of a deal made. She was manipulative, ruthless and cunning and conniving didn't even begin to describe her. Everything she did was always fool proof and the loopholes in the contract were only for her, she specialized in iron-clad contracts and she was always within the law. Damon actually enjoyed this side of hers; she was kind of an evil genius. Definitely the polar opposite of his Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a helpful soul who couldn't scheme to save her life and god, she was a terrible liar.
Everyday she had her lunch at various places scattered all over the town, sometimes she went to the Grill, or maybe to the quaint barista near her shop, sometimes she went all out and ate only at the exclusive restaurants in town, she was unpredictable when it came to her meals. Damon put it up with her love for cooking, because she cooked as well as she did, she wanted to eat just as well when she didn't cook. Damon watched her eat lunch for almost a week straight. He ordered whatever she did, always and he always took a seat far away from her and the seat always had a good view of her. Her choice in her food was excellent, he couldn't deny that. So while she ate, Damon watched her. She enjoyed her food, one could tell by the expressions she gave and she had a very healthy appetite.
So while she ate, Damon watched her with fascination and wondered, how was that she was so very different from his Elizabeth yet she felt so very, very familiar? What was it about her? The more he watched her, the more he found her physical appearances and features appealing and very similar to his Elizabeth's. The eyes, the dimpled smile, the lips, the nose, that chin, the skin, it all reminded him of Elizabeth and made his heart clench.
He especially found it hilarious and a primitive, almost possessive part of him found it satisfying that she found the men in town to be below her. They wanted her; it was so very clear and so blindingly obvious. Why wouldn't they? She was sexy, mysterious and she made herself unattainable. Men would fall all over themselves to get her and why wouldn't they? That combination was irresistible. So yes, he found it very satisfying and funny that she always turned them down, rejected them harshly, humiliated them and looked at them as if they were insignificant bugs.
Every afternoon she came back to her shop, she would let that blind always smiling dick a very long lunch break where he would leave for a very long lunch. Then something interesting happened, a little mousy looking girl would come into the shop. Her other assistant and this one would clumsily move about the shop doing various odd jobs.
Damon watched her closely, and he came to the conclusion that in this Beatrice Blackwell's life, there really wasn't a single person who was close to her. Only her two assistants were even remotely close to her and that was strictly in the most professional manner but her assistants didn't know that. Her assistants, both the mousy girl and the blind idiot adored her and from what it looked like, they were extremely loyal to her. Damon knew that she only returned their affections because she needed them with her.
By the time evening rolled in, her shop would be closed and she would be out once more. Most of the time there were certain business dinners set up for her evenings, or she went off to the Lockwood mansion, but whenever her evenings were free, she would be back home. Damon watched her disappear into her bathroom from afar and he waited while she took long baths or showers. She would cook dinner and desert. She would then settle in for a quite night, with movies or books and then sleep alone. Damon watched with a dark smirk, she didn't have someone to warm her on these cold lonely nights, how interesting.
He would watch her day and night and couldn't help himself from being fascinated. Stefan once accused him of being obsessed, Damon didn't agree with that assessment. No, he was merely studying his prey thoroughly, it was all a part of the hunt, what would he know, stupid Saint Stefan! Stefan was just uncomfortable with Damon keeping an eye on his interest, Damon scoffed at the thought. Like Stefan had any place to talk, Stefan had stalked Damon stalking Beatrice Blackwell.
It took a day or two, but Damon had decided that it was time; he had done enough research on her and seen to everything that was about her, he could now move onto the second phase of the plan. He had to meet the elusive Ms. Blackwell and get her attention.
So that afternoon, Damon caught her just outside the barista she decided to get her lunch. Stefan as always and like an elephant trying his best to be sneaky and stealthy followed him as well. Damon actually wanted to savor the look of worry and panic on Stefan's face when he did see Ms. Blackwell falling into Damon's open trap. Stefan did after all have a hero complex especially when it came to the villain named Damon Salvatore.
That particular day she was wearing a figure hugging grey dress. Damon had to admit he had grown rather fond of checking out and putting away all the delicious images of her different, very sexy outfits and those downright naughty shoes. One could even say that this was actually one of the favorite parts of his day, enjoying the tantalizing images of Ms. Beatrice Blackwell. That day's dress was interesting; it reached till her knees and was actually very appropriate, only she had a show-girl's long legs and the skirt caressed her hips, over her thighs and down her legs in the most sinful manner. It wasn't tight and it glided with her long legs striding confidently, the images were very arousing to say the least.
The top part of the dress was actually very conservative, it was sleeve less and had a long collar which covered up her delectable neck and collar, but it had a deep v-neck, which gave hints to what laid below and what laid below was entirely plentiful. To finish her conservative look, she made it spicy with her dark plum painted lips and those sky-high black leather stilettos which screamed fuck-me shoes. Damon wanted to spread her over a desk and he meant that with the utmost sincerity. Then again, so did all the other men who were ogling and drooling over her and Damon did not like it one bit. She was his prey not theirs.
The closer Damon got to her, the more potent her scent got and Damon had to once again make it an admirable fact that his new little toy, this Blackwell had to be one of the sweetest smelling humans he had ever encountered in his entire undead life time. He couldn't wait to see how her scent changed and became more intoxicating as she was aroused in so many different ways, be it despair, excitement, fear, anticipation, happiness or lust. There was also the fact that his mouth watered at the thought of feeding on her, he couldn't wait to taste how sweet her blood would taste.
Damon took out his phone from his pocket and pretended to fiddle with it as he made his way towards his object of fascination. He still found it a bit insulting that he couldn't get her attention as soon as he entered a room; whereas every other woman had their eyes on him. Never the less, eventually Ms. Blackwell would have to make it up to him however he wished later on after he got her. From the corner of his eye, he caught Stefan standing just about a few dozen feet away from him. Damon smirked darkly, he was so going to enjoy making Stefan witness once again how Damon always got what he wanted and whatever he did, it would only bring Stefan more misery.
Just as the plan went, he was about to bump into her, she was making her way out of the bistro and over to her car, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. He was probably an inch away from his shoulder bumping into her and making them both drop their things, 'an accident' really and he was kind of lost in her heady scent; that was when something went wrong. He did not expect it and frankly it couldn't have been possible and by the end of the day, Damon blamed it on her distracting scent.
She kind of moved ever so little to the left at the very last millisecond. She did it as an unconscious reflex, hell she didn't even notice him and moved forward as if nothing happened. The fact of the matter was that nothing had happened and Damon stood still for a second because the expected impact of his body on hers did not happen. For that lone second his body burned with disappointment, frustration, bewilderment and rage. He cursed internally and then swiftly made an impulsive move.
He turned around and strode up beside her and spoke to her in his most charming voice and that smile which usually melted the hearts of the iciest of women, "Hi. My name is Damon. Damon Salvatore."
His blue eyes were intensely studying her face for a reaction, the bare glimpse of some inner thought that escaped by her cold hard impassive mask. But he got nothing and that fact burned a hole in his stomach. Her steps did not stop and he had to walk with her, her cool green-grey eyes did not blink or emote anything, her face remained unmoved. She did not even look at him. Once more Damon was faced with that very same reaction from her, as if he was an invisible ghost.
It was his persistent walking with her and his unchanging smile that probably made her answer in a crisp smooth voice, "Good for you."
That was it and she had shut him out. What the fuck was wrong with her, Damon fumed on the inside. Fine, if she was going to be such a bitch he could play her game. He didn't need to be nice, he could make her the bad guy in this scene. He faked a slightly hurt look, which of course she didn't notice because she didn't even look at him and was already out the bistro. Damon retorted slightly playfully and more confronting, "Rude. I was just introducing myself! You seem very familiar. Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
Now, if it had been any other woman, they would have stopped and at least apologized or made excuses for their appalling behavior. Hell, they would have at least looked at him. But even his accusation and the backhanded comment on her behavior got nothing from her. He had made the comment about seeing her somewhere because she was usually all over the town and it should have piqued her curiosity. She should have been curious to know where he saw her. But once more he got nothing from her.
They were by the side walk where she stopped for a moment for a car to pass before she made her way to the other side to her car. She continued to ignore him. But when he stood too close to her, did she finally react and Damon was filled with a sense of excitement so strong he was practically vibrating with energy. Anticipation filled every pore of his body. He watched her blink those long dark lashes once before she tilted her head just a little and looked at him. Finally, Damon's chest puffed up, she was finally looking at him. He was sure that now he had her, he would have her complete and unwavering attention. She would be hooked by his appearance alone and if not that then he was not above using his power of compulsion on her.
She gave him a slow look from head to toe. Initially that look heated him up in more ways than one, then he noticed her expression. He felt cold with insult, her eyes were assessing him as if he were a frog pinned on a dissection table. Her look was the same look she gave to all those drooling men, the one that screamed that she thought of them as insignificant bugs under her shoes. Then she dismissed him instantly and it showed so clearly on her otherwise blank face. She looked back at the road and said, clearly and dismissively, "Yes and that is exactly why I don't go there anymore! Now, please introduce yourself elsewhere."
With that, she walked away, leaving Damon where he stood frozen and going through a storm of mostly negative emotions. Mostly negative because the only somewhat positive emotion he felt was arousal. Deep primal bone wrenching arousal, he was painfully hard as he watched Beatrice Blackwell walk away, that view of her perfect ass in that tight grey skirt would be imprinted on his mind until the day he disciplined her by bending her over his knee and spanking that very ass until she couldn't sit for this grave indiscretion of hers. She didn't know who she had just pissed off.
Along with arousal rage, frustration and deep irritation ran in his body. Her dismissal stung and quite frankly the whole failure of his clever ruse stung more. He hadn't expected her detached personality to be that anti-social and that it would be the downfall of his plan. There was also the fact that she had unknowingly saved herself from being compelled by him. She hadn't given him even the slightest of seconds to grab her as discreetly as possible and compel her. She hadn't looked directly into his eyes and while she had delivered her last blow at him, she had shocked him sufficiently enough to buy herself enough time to make her exit. He cursed silently, he had lost a very good opportunity to compel her and just sort everything out.
But there was also a fact that was more prominent than all the insult he felt. The fact being that he found this Blackwell, to be very refreshing and she was keeping him the farthest from being bored. He hadn't felt this challenged by a woman in ages. She was every bit worth his fascination and god being defied by her felt good. It would be that much sweeter when he would make her submit to him. She was a perfect challenge and the vampire within him reveled in the chase she was providing.
He stood there watching her get inside her car and he was swiftly making new plans and this time they wouldn't fail. His bubbling hot rage had cooled down to a cold mercuric anger as he watched her car speed away. He was eager to see more of this Ms. Blackwell and their next meeting would be a memorable one. While he stood there making dark promises to himself regarding Ms. Blackwell, his younger brother whom he had forgotten about stepped right beside him. Stefan had witnessed the entire thing and he too was stunned.
Damon's anger came back in force as well as the itching irritation. Anger at her for insulting him so and that too in front of his brother and irritation at Stefan and he hoped to god that Stefan would keep his mouth shut. He didn't have the patience or the mood to deal with a suddenly mouthy Stefan. Damon didn't even know how he would react. Public vampiric brawls were banned for now considering the town they were in.
Stefan stood beside him silently for a moment, looking at the way the car had left. Finally, after he had gotten somewhat over his shock, he exclaimed softly, his eyebrows raised and his face still maintaining its awed expression, "Wow, she is…"
Damon barely held in his snarl. He so did not need his brother's input in this matter. Damon's ice-blue eyes glared as he interrupted Stefan and sneered, "Hiding something, Stefan and I am going to find out what! No one is that touchy!"
There was a sudden shift in Stefan's demeanor. His face lost the shocked look and got more of a smug look. Stefan's mouth quirked up into a resemblance of a smirk, he suggested, "Or maybe she is late for something and you annoyed her by delaying her?"
Damon turned to his brother, glaring at him as if Stefan was besmirching their family name with his sheer stupidity. Damon snapped, "Don't be an idiot, Stefan! She was acting very fishy, of course she is hiding something."
Stefan blinked once and then asked half incredulously and half sardonically, "She is acting fishy simply because she didn't spare you a second glance?"
Damon's jaw tightened and he held in his urge to throw a punch at his stupid younger brother. Damon sneered, "Drinking all that rabbit blood is making your brain matter melt right out of your nose as well as making you weak!"
Stefan took a moment to look at his brother, as if considering his words. Then he shrugged, to Damon's great annoyance. Stefan agreed and then threw in his own question, "Well, fine, I accept that. But what's your excuse for getting burned like that by her? Too much bourbon making your charms resistible, hmmm?"
Damon rolled his eyes at his brother's weak attempt at an insult. Damon scoffed, "Oh please. My charms are working just fine, didn't you notice, she was overwhelmed by me!"
Stefan deadpanned, "She is either overwhelmed or touchy! Which is it?"
Damon looked eager as he answered and then went on his own tirade, "Both. You might not be familiar with the female species Stefan, but I am. Women are complex creatures, they feel way too many emotions and most of the time they feel it all at the same time. Now, go on, run off to your high school girlfriend and play the part of the awkward but perpetually horny boyfriend. If your good maybe she will reward you. I have a sexy woman in a deliciously tight skirt to chase down and have a talk with."
Stefan looked amused rather than the usual mix of embarrassed and irritated; that did not make Damon's own irritation lessen any. Stefan wasn't even bothered by his brother's words, he was enjoying his brother's humiliation. This was after all, a once in a decade sort of encounter and Stefan was lucky enough to witness it and he intended to milk it all for its worth. Stefan smirked and clarified, "You mean, you'll talk and she'll give you a whiplash?"
Damon shook his head and said slightly mockingly and more threateningly as he walked away, "Oh Stefan Stefan…not a good idea to agitate me, man. I know that you know better. See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya."
Stefan snorted as he watched his brother leave. But he couldn't help but throw in a last second comment, "Childish much?"
Although none of the brothers would ever admit it, but that banter between them was harmless and filled without a single hurtful exchange and for once in a very long time, they had exchanged words with each other and left with a good mood and a smile on their lips.
Stefan's good mood remained for the rest of the day, because he got to spend it with his Elena. Damon, on the other hand, had a much different day. His mood became darker and darker as the day moved on, his elusive Ms. Blackwell was constantly eluding him that day.
Because of his little talk with his brother, he had missed her. He didn't catch where she was going or where her next meeting was, because she sure as hell wasn't at her shop. So after a long and much needed visit to the Grill for a few dozen drinks and a bite to eat, his bubbling rage had calmed somewhat. He really didn't need to suddenly not be able to control his temper and tear into Beatrice Blackwell's neck before he could get have his fun with her. For the truly worthy females, the interesting ones, he always took his time. It was the honest truth, the fun really was in the chase and in the game.
By the time he had made it back to her house, well to be accurate near her house, he could see that she was getting ready for bed. He watched for a few more moments and then promised himself with a dark smirk, there was always tomorrow.
However, tomorrow didn't turn out to work in his favor either, or the day after. There wasn't one free moment that Damon could get to corner her. She somehow managed to avoid him like plague and always kept herself busy with numerous meetings and various people; to make things worse, she was always in public places. There was no way to get here alone for more than ten minutes and get all of her unwavering attention on him. He needed to talk to her first, to make his impact on her before he could decide whether to compel her or not. Maybe he'd wing it, he didn't know. Hell, he didn't even know what he was going to say to her once he got her cornered.
The past two nights she had someone drive her to and fro from home and Damon found that curious. He found the answer soon enough, the young man who had been driving her around town, well he owed her, so now she was making him pay it off by working for her. He was her chauffer slash errand boy slash body guard. Moreover, those two days, she wasn't even alone once in her shop. Her two assistants, her new errand boy, the delivery guy and some other people were always there. It was grating on Damon's very last nerves, he was close to compelling the new errand boy into ditching her somewhere deserted and Damon would just appear there like a hero and 'help' her out.
Stefan noticed his brother's more agitated attitude than normal for the past two days. Damon was increasingly more temperamental and acting like a pissy tiger in a very enclosed space. Stefan noticed that Damon hadn't been making digs at him recently; actually he had been busy staring obsessively into the fireplace while drinking more than copious amounts of alcohol. Stefan barely held in his shudder as he came to the realization that Damon was fixated; fixated on that Blackwell girl to be precise and to make matters worse it was the destructive kind of fixation. Stefan knew it, Damon was holding in a huge storm within himself and god forbid should he unleash it.
Stefan couldn't even stare at Damon too long before Damon would snap at him, so Stefan took to following Damon while Damon followed Beatrice Blackwell. That was how for the past day and half Stefan had come to know quite a bit about Beatrice Blackwell and all the other somewhat personal details he learned via good old fashioned research and digging at Elena discreetly for information.
So Stefan watched with utter fascination as Damon would stare unblinkingly and with unwavering attention at Beatrice Blackwell. Damon usually had a lascivious look on his face whenever he saw her and Stefan couldn't even feel the slightest urge to rebuke him, because unlike their Elizabeth, this Blackwell was actually very desirable. She had it all, the exotic look, the long legs, bountiful curves, the walk on a woman who knew she owned whichever man she desired to, and most importantly she had an aloofness that attracted men to her like flies. Stefan couldn't exactly explain it, but her aloofness was one of her strongest attractive points. Even he had been bothered and more than a little bit challenged when she had completely ignored him as if he were invisible that first time he saw her.
Stefan watched in complete regret, he couldn't exactly blame Damon for being fixated on her and neither could he completely distract Damon from her. She would be a perfect challenge for any vampire and Stefan admitted that to himself with his own experiences as a vampire who sought such challenges in his prey a long time ago.
But it was that other look which would sometimes cross Damon's face that gave Stefan hope that maybe Damon would spare this girl and leave her alone. Sometimes, some very rare times, Damon would stare at Beatrice Blackwell with a look of longing and sadness. The longing was something that Damon just didn't do; he did it for Katherine sometimes, but never for any human girl. Damon only did rage, lust and bloodlust. This longing paired with the sadness, Stefan knew that Damon did in fact pair up Beatrice Blackwell with Elizabeth Blackwell in his mind. He would look at Beatrice Blackwell and remember their Elizabeth.
Stefan had to admit he understood Damon's cause for frustration. Beatrice Blackwell was a very busy person and always in public places. Damon couldn't approach her or corner her. That was a very bad thing, a frustrated Damon meant an impulsive, reckless and wildly dangerous Damon.
Stefan found it odd that Damon always left her alone when she came home, no stalking or trying to peep on her by the window. In fact, Damon would stay quite a distance away from the house and watch from afar. He would only watch till she had her dinner and went to bed, then he would leave.
Stefan couldn't figure out the logic or the reasoning behind that curious action and he didn't dare to ask, god only knew what Damon would do. Moreover, by the way Damon kept on smirking at him Stefan knew that Damon knew that Stefan was following him around. It was bad enough he had to lie to Elena and take these two days away and follow Damon around like the stalker of a stalker. The only good thing that came out of this entire following around routine was that Stefan got to know more about Beatrice Blackwell as a person and he had to admit, she was nothing like Elizabeth.
Stefan was growing agitated and no matter how tired he was of following around Beatrice Blackwell, he couldn't stop. Damon was currently a ticking time bomb with the time part unknown, so Stefan just couldn't give up. He didn't exactly know what to do, but thankfully, Beatrice Blackwell herself gave them a window of opportunity.
Because the next day Beatrice Blackwell arrived at her shop, bright and early and she opened it without her assistants. She was all alone in the shop and by looking at the time Damon knew immediately that she had slipped back into her old routine; she would be alone for approximately the next two hours. Damon was almost giddy with excitement and anticipation.
He looked over to where Stefan stood. Really, the man had the subtlety of a big pink rhino, maybe it was the animal blood which was making him so incredibly stupid as well as incompetent. Damon smirked at his brother, which of course caused Stefan to frown in worry, then Damon swaggered off to the delightful little shop that belonged to one Ms. Beatrice Blackwell.
When he opened there was that generic jingle of the bell attached to the door. What he expected was Beatrice Blackwell to finally acknowledge his existence. To look at him and actually see him instead of acting that he was invisible. This time he was a customer, at least supposedly, so she had to greet him, right?
He stalked in slowly, taking his time and savoring everything. That was the first time he actually entered her shop, her space, her territory, her domain. There was something very thrilling about entering one's own castle and then making that person submit. Damon flicked his eyes all over the shop, there were glass counters holding various expensive jewelry pieces, watches, knick knacks, all antiques. There were shelves holding things that were incredibly old and things which were odd and out of place.
But despite all of that the shop had a kind of warmth in it, and a sense of detachment from the busy world outside of the shop's door. Damon breathed in deeply, shops like these usually smelt a little musty because all of the old, broken and crappy stuff in it. Her shop, it was unquestionable, it was indeed her shop because every inch of it smelt exactly like her. Damon's senses felt heady because of her scent's overload. He could breathe in her scent all day long; it was that sweet and intoxicating. Some humans just had that kind of effect to them, it made their blood taste much, much better. He couldn't wait to taste Beatrice Blackwell.
He looked right at her; she was behind a counter, making some notes in a ledger of some sort. For a moment, Damon took in her image. She once again had her shiny black hair up in a bun, and her lips were painted a dull shade of red, the kind that made it look like she had been thoroughly kissed and she had just managed to wipe off the smudges. Damon had seen her leave her house that morning and she did not disappoint him. She was as tantalizingly dressed as ever, in a sleeveless body hugging navy blue dress with a v-neck, cinched waist and a tight skirt which ended just above her knees. Damon didn't forget nor could he forget those bright red heels she had on. Not only did the view of her pale smooth and oh-so-long legs in those heels make him painfully hard, it even drove him to pure distraction. It was hard to think of a proper confrontation when all he could think of was undoing those red ankle straps with his mouth, or preferably how those pointed heels would feel digging into his back as he would have her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and would be pounding into her.
It was an unexplainable feeling unless you were a vampire, it was so euphoric almost when you had cornered your prey and there was no way she could go. The best part was that she didn't even realize what kind of a situation she was in. although after a few more moments of just watching the beauty in front of him he was going to ravish in every sense of the word, the smug smirk on his lips kind of melted off into a dark frown. She still was ignoring him.
He narrowed his eyes at her and cleared his throat loudly. No0thing, her hand was still swiftly scribbling across the pages and her attention completely focused on what the hell ever she was working on. Damon rolled his eyes, this was getting too old for him and fast. So he loudly exclaimed, "Well, isn't this a nice surprise! Nice shop, you got here!"
Damon felt a thrilling shot of satisfaction washing through him when her hand finally paused and she looked up. Damon was at best at a distance of ten feet away from her, but god her eyes, then burned through him. Green-grey eyes, they were intense as she looked over him. With a slight tilt of her head she silently contemplated him. Damon was smirking widely at her. Now how was she going to get out of this one, he wondered. Not that he was going to let her escape this time. The silent staring went on for a few more seconds and Damon would never admit it, but he was feeling a little bit uncomfortable under her unblinking gaze. It wasn't like she was mesmerized by his sight or the fact that she was unnerved. No, she wasn't even admiring him. She was just staring at him, dissecting every bit of him and then assessing him. A part of Damon seethed at the thought that she did not remember him from that day.
Finally, she blinked. For the briefest of seconds, those eyes reminded him of his Elizabeth. Damon shook himself off, now was not the time to get nostalgic. To make himself focus he wondered exactly how terrible a shopkeeper this woman was. No charming salesmanship quality in her at all. In fact, she was being rude and any other person in his place would have left the shop already. But Damon wasn't exactly there for purchasing something.
He took a step towards her. He just started to say something to her, when she interrupted. For a second Damon was caught off guard. The impassive look on her face slid off and her cool green grey eyes suddenly flashed and they had a glint in them, a sort of scheming impish gleam to be exact. Her red lips curved up into a smirk of her own, the dimple showing and she said in her smooth bedroom voice, "Hello Damon! Took you long enough! I thought you would have gathered your guts an hour ago to finally abandon your stalking to come inside and say hello to an old friend!"
Damon breathed in sharply. He frowned at her, confused and more than a little thrown off. Where was the cold ice bitch who kept everyone away from her with her Medusa stare and that whip of a tongue? What the fuck, she knew about him following her around? How did she notice? Damon seethed on the inside, it must have been during the last two days when Stefan started stalking him stalking her. Damon was always very careful and damn it he was a pro at this, no way in hell could someone catch him doing this. So clearly and obviously this was all on Stefan. Chasing squirrels and rabbits clearly got him all rusted.
He frowned even more and now started thinking rapidly as to what her game really was. If she knew he was following her around then why didn't she confront him about it if not report him to the authorities? Then he realized. He leered at her as the realization washed over him and did wonders for his ego. She was flattered and clearly she wanted him. This whole lone ranger slash ice-queen bit was a part of her personality. She wanted him and him following her around actually impressed her. She probably thought he was head over heels for her. Well, that was just great. It would work excellently for his plans for her. Clearly, it was working already since she was already coming onto him with all of her 'old friend' routine. Although, her come-ons needed a bit of work. No worries though, he'd teach her.
Damon shrugged, taking another step closer to her. He said charmingly, "Yes, well you were so unbelievably rude to me when I introduced myself that day. You scared me off temporarily."
There was no affect on her. No change in her breathing pattern, pupils were unaffected and undiluted, heart beat not elevated, her body very still and not even the most experienced of body language experts could find even the slightest change in her. She was calmly staring at him. Damon balked for a moment. His charms were ineffective against her. But how could that be when she clearly was expressing her interest not a moment ago?
Her grey green eyes lowered just a bit to the floor, her half lidded eyes, those long thick dark lashes created the most sensual effect for her but the chill of her eyes contradicted that. The lazy smirk on her lips was almost menacing. She hummed for a moment as if considering something and then her eyes flicked right to Damon. Damon felt a shock going through to his very dead heart, he almost gasped. Grey green eyes clashed against blue grey eyes, her voice softly said in the most condescending manner possible, "Hmmm…that doesn't sound very much like. For as long as I can remember you have always been a rather persistent fellow be it now or in 1864."
To say that violent shock and almost horror rocked Damon to the core would be an understatement. She couldn't be. Damon gasped out loud, his face twisting and contorting to show all of the feelings and emotions coursing through him. This was Elizabeth then. His Elizabeth. But how was that possible? Did she not die then? God, there was no way for her to know he was a vampire then. Even if she knew from the Blackwell journals then why would she call him her old friend and the exact year he ceased to be a human. To be more accurate it was their last year together as well, the year she died and he died as well.
She was alive, after all these years. But her body looked different. Was she turned later than he did? There were so many questions and the entire situation was impossible and unbelievable. Maybe she was a fake. God, he didn't know. He stared at her, willing her to say otherwise, to explain to make a lick of sense about any of this. To say it out loud, either she was a fake or a vampire. He breathed, "You can't be…How?"
She rolled her eyes. The look she sent Damon next made him feel like she could read his mind, her gaze was that calculative. She replied almost patronizingly, although her demeanor was still cold, "Oh no, Damon dear. Not a vampire. Just a reincarnation. Same soul, same body, just different time, different upbringing and of course different parents."
None of this was making sense to Damon. He scoffed and repeated incredulously, "Reincarnation? That sounds preposterous."
She raised a dark eyebrow at him. She then let out a laugh that was so similar to Elizabeth's that Damon went spiraling into those old times when Elizabeth used to laugh freely for him and with him; the good and golden days. Suddenly, all that rage, confusion and frustration in him seeped out. When he looked at her, all he saw was his Elizabeth, his Elizabeth.
She pointed out matter-of-factly, "Hmmm….you didn't question the Gilbert girl's resemblance to your one true love, so why question mine? Then again, your brain did always stop working when it came to anything remotely related to Katherine."
Damon's skin itched and his temper sizzled when she spoke of Katherine's name. No one really dared to do so, but Elizabeth had been an honest person who always spoke her mind to him, she never hesitated when it came to him. So he told himself to not be surprised or be bothered if his Elizabeth did so now. But where was Elizabeth's warmth, compassion and that incessant need to care for Damon. This Elizabeth seemed so jaded, cold and almost scheming. Maybe he should give her that much leeway after all, her death was gruesome and his very last experience with her hadn't been a good one at all. It was horrific. She had every right to be how she was right then, she had nearly a century and half to let all of that fester.
She knew a lot, it seemed. Then again she knew Elena Gilbert, it was obvious from their last interaction. Most of what Elena told them about her 'relationship' with her made sense now. She used to watch Elena closely and almost bully her, but after Elena's parents died, Elizabeth's compassion, understanding and empathy couldn't just stay hidden. It came out and despite Elena's resemblance to Katherine, his Elizabeth comforted her.
It was true and Damon felt almost weightless as he realized that maybe this reincarnation thing wasn't all that impossible. If Elena could have his Katherine's face, then why couldn't his Elizabeth come back? God, he was torn in between grabbing her and hugging her tight and just stay away from her, because he remembered what he did to her the last time they spoke. He was the one who tore her heart into shreds and pushed her off the edge. She jumped off their tree after he was done with her.
Damon just stared at her with dark eyes. A small smile unwittingly slipped onto his lips; he took another step towards her and decided that she was his Elizabeth. She had to be. His eyes flitted all over her, taking in every single detail. There was one thing he needed to check first. Her hair was pulled back almost tightly in a bun, so it was easy for him to check that one place.
With her head still tilted at the perfect angle, he looked at that spot slightly behind her ear where her neck connected to her jaw. Right there it was and Damon stared at it with a blooming happiness in his chest, a reddish pink spot. Her birthmark. The one Elizabeth had. The same one, he should know, he used to stare at it. It was one of the most attractive things about his completely unfeminine Elizabeth. It was inappropriate and ungentlemanly, but he did it so anyway. The very few times Elizabeth had caught him staring at it, she was so much younger than him and he had platonic feelings for her, yet she used to blush bright red and then promptly do something clumsy.
Back when she wasn't engaged to him, he used to think that that was the spot her future husband would lavish attention on someday. But after they were engaged to one another, Damon told himself that one day after she was a bit more grown up, more of a lady than a young girl and not to forget his wife, he would kiss her there. It was his spot after all, she was going to be his wife. He wanted more than anything to see how deeper her blush could get, would she faint?
Curious thing, he never felt any romantic feeling for her other than that. He never felt lust for her, any sort of attraction for her. He loved her, that was undeniable, but he wasn't in love with her. That spot was probably the only thing that made him think of kissing her in any manner other than her forehead or her cheek. He never even wanted to kiss her on the mouth. The only few times he did was after their engagement and because it was expected. He never thought of her as a lover and so he never kissed her as one. The last time he even attempted to kiss her as a lover was a punishment to her and that was the day he broke her.
Damon asked softly almost pleadingly, he couldn't help but slip back into the Damon who longed for his Elizabeth, his best friend, "So, you are Elizabeth?"
What happened next kind of broke Damon's heart a little and he cursed himself for hoping and for acting anything other than the vampire he was, he shouldn't have had acted like the pathetic human he was so long ago just because this woman before him was a direct connection to his Elizabeth. She blinked once and said a bit loudly, slowly and very clearly, "No, I am Beatrice. I just happen to have Elizabeth's memories."
What Damon wanted to do was rush through the shop and break everything in it, the destruction would have calmed him and made him feel better. But what he did do was calmly question this Beatrice. He needed to know what she knew and what her motives were as opposed to act out of impulse. He couldn't risk everything after coming this far and this Beatrice could very well be a risk in getting his Katherine out of the tomb.
Damon had made up his mind. This was getting risky; he had to do damage control. So he discreetly looked right into her eye and started to compel her, "So you know about Stefan and I being…"
Beatrice didn't move her eyes from his. In fact, she leaned in a bit closer, Damon thought he had her, it was obvious. His ice blue eyes were locked on hers, but when she spoke, her voice was clear and lacked the slight submission compulsion left in a victim, "Vampires? Yes, I know and compulsion doesn't work on me. So if I were you I wouldn't waste the effort."
Damon rolled his eyes in irritation. Figures, she was a Blackwell, a Founding Family member and she had Elizabeth's memories. He figured that she was vervain-ed. Damon knew that although the town of Mystic Falls lacked vervain in supply, the Blackwells were always resourceful and kept certain things for emergency purposes always. This particular Blackwell most probably was taught about vampire and hating them since she was a child like her mother was and her grandfather was. She also was taught to be precautious and always have vervain on her. Damon could see right through her. The Founding Families of Mystic Falls never changed. Everything was supposedly secretive, a conspiracy, and the council always got together to plot about existing or non-existing vampires. That was how his Katherine was trapped and for hell's sake, his dick of a father even killed his two sons because he was that prejudiced against vampires.
Damon put himself back together behind a mask of cool indifference and scoffed, "Vervain, rii-ght! So, what's the game plan? Reunion or revenge? I am going to take a wild guess and assume it is the latter."
Damon noticed with a small amount of contempt and more than a little admiration that his indifference had nothing on Beatrice Blackwell's casual nonchalance. She wasn't even bothered by the fact that she was all alone in a closed shop talking to a vampire who might just kill her. Her heart was beating perfectly steady. She looked absolutely bored as she answered, "Neither actually."
Damon couldn't help but let out a chuckle. It wasn't funny though, but her attempt at deceiving him was. He had enough of people trying to and sometimes even successfully manipulating him in his lifetime. He wasn't going to let a stupid little girl who looked a little like his dead best friend try to pull one over him. There was more than to what she was revealing and he knew it. He taunted half playfully half threateningly, "Oh come on, I am not that stupid, so don't play me like one."
Beatrice shook her head once, flashing Damon her birthmark for the briefest of seconds which almost made Damon wince. She stated in matter-of-factly and then reasoned, "No, you are not stupid. You're paranoid that I'll spill your secrets in hopes of some kind of retribution."
Damon challenged her, his eyes were promising her that if she lied, she would be paying ofr it dearly; he hoped she got the silent message, "So, will you?"
Fortunately for him and this also impressed him a little, she got the message right. She had the nerves of steel. Must be a fantastic poker player, he thought. She tilted her head to the side and her eyes were studying him like a puzzle, those grey green eyes haunted him, she said, "Interesting. A threat masked by a curious question. Don't fret, Damon, I won't say a word about your diet, age, aversion to a certain plant or choice in protective jewelry to anyone."
She was far too sassy in a dangerous situation like this. Couldn't she comprehend the fact that she was being threatened right then? Damon wanted to push her. That was the only way. Get her riled up and agitated and then she would be sure to slip. She said she had Elizabeth's memories. All of it. Could it be that she felt exactly like Elizabeth did and all of this was just a show for whatever plan she had? All this an incredible ruse? Most probably so. Damon set his face up as if he were concerned and then he mocked, "Still so loyal to your fiancé?"
She was far from being agitated. In fact, she looked amused, she was smirking and her dimple showed her amusement. She pointed out, "First of all, you were Elizabeth's fiancé or is it that she was yours? Regardless, my second point being that it doesn't benefit me in any manner to reveal your secrets, dirty or otherwise. So why would I bother with the effort?"
Damon glared at her and at her attempt of bluffing. He shrugged and spat out sarcastically, "Oh, I don't know! To get back at me?"
Beatrice rolled her cool green eyes and counter-argued all logic and no agitation and that grated on Damon's nerves, "Please. That wasn't me and it isn't my problem. I might be Elizabeth's reincarnation with all her memories, but I am not her. I don't feel for you like she did. So no love, no loyalty, no friendship, no desire for vengeance. You just aren't of any significance to me or in my life."
Damon did not know how to take it. Be offended or be relieved. Sure, his hopes were momentarily raised; all his fault really, but now that he did know better thanks to her pointing it out very clearly. She was not his Elizabeth. So he was back on track and so was she. What Beatrice Blackwell didn't know was that she had just made her own life very difficult. Damon wanted her as his distraction and something to entertain him when he was bored. By admitting that she was not his dead best friend her value to him quickly lowered and now he had no reason to hold back on her. He was going to have her however he wanted.
Although, her barriers were rather fun to break down. His previous assessment of her was right on the spot it seemed. She was interesting and he was going to take his time toying with her. The game was back on. But first, she needed to know the stakes and that the threats were very real when it came to him. She wasn't to do anything fishy. Whatever she knew about Stefan and him needed to stay in her pretty little head and whatever petty manipulation and intimidation tactics she used on the town's people needed to stay only with those people. Even the slightest attempt from her on him would end very sadly for her.
Damon laid his palms flat on the glass counter, leaning very close to her, getting in her personal space, he looked intensely into her eyes. He kept his ears peeled to her beating heart and to it was impressive how steady her pulse was and she didn't even falter for a mere second, she gazed right back into his eyes coolly. She gave nothing away; definitely a good poker player or at least she had the potential to be one. He whispered ominously with a dark promising smirk, "Do you have any idea how much you will pay if you are lying to me? So, I suggest you come clean right now rather than deal with me later."
Beatrice's only response was a raised eyebrow. Then she leaned a little closer to Damon's face, their faces a breath apart, her eyes never wavered from his eyes and Damon had to admit he felt the a jolt of heat run through him. She was hot, there was no denying that. She replied in an identical whisper to his, "Actually, if I did lie now then you'd be the one paying; either with money or some sort of favor. But I am not and really your paranoia and/or guilty conscience is kind of getting old."
Damon couldn't help it but be amused. He was tickled really. This one was very interesting. She knew how to play the game. Damon liked her nerves. They were made of steel and then he had another flash of nostalgia. She really was nothing like his Elizabeth. Elizabeth was far too sweet to be this challenging. Damon leaned back and shook his head amusedly and admitted, "You are right. You are nothing like her."
She shrugged her shoulders and sassed back, "To refer to a popular term from this century and here's to hoping you understand it, duh!"
Damon let out a chuckle. He pointed a finger at her and then leered, "Funny and sassy. Not to mention Elizabeth didn't have that body."
Beatrice took out a small cloth from a drawer and stared polishing a set of antique silver goblets. They were small and were probably for decoration purposes. It was as if she had somehow dismissed him. Again, it irked Damon. But watching her work was a soothing routine. She was graceful and he was far too used to watching her.
Damon was surprised when she spoke once more, still polishing the goblet, "Oh, she did. She was seventeen then and I had that exact body when I was seventeen. But I am a woman and if Elizabeth had lived till her twenty first birthday she'd have a body like mine. She would have been a late bloomer like myself, if only she had lived long enough."
Damon was kind of floored by that statement. His Elizabeth, his wild child of a fiancé, growing up and becoming woman with a body that was made of stuff from every red-blooded heterosexual male's wet dreams? That sounded impossible. She sounded wrong. But then he remembered her statement from earlier.
Same soul, same body, just different time, different upbringing and of course different parents.
This Beatrice also had his Elizabeth's birthmark. So maybe there was some truth behind her statement. Damon looked over the nonchalant working woman before him slowly, critically, a little longingly and more than a little nostalgically. So this was what had waited for him if he had stayed a human and Elizabeth had lived? The part of him which wanted to stay human, well that part felt more than a little cheated. His fiancé wouldn't have been his best friend who he had platonic feelings for, if he had seen her this grown up, he would have had such a passion filled marriage with her.
But if he had stayed with Elizabeth, then he wouldn't have had what he had with his Katherine. His Katherine was his entire reason for his existence. And the time was so close now, he would finally be with her. So he pushed all the regret and nostalgia behind him. He wanted to live in the moment now. For now the woman before him was a beautiful distraction and he could indulge in her and his stupid human desires for his Elizabeth or what a passion filled relationship with her could have been could be fulfilled now. No marriage, but a few sleepless nights filled with her moans and screams would do it, for sure.
Damon was curious though, something she had said had hit his mind. This time when he asked, there was no threat or tone of interrogation in his voice. He was genuinely curious and so he asked, "So, you expect me to believe that for all of twenty one years, more or less, you have had her memories and you don't plan on harming me?"
Her eyes flicked at him for a second and she was back to polishing the silver. Damon walked around poking around all the trinkets around him. Her voice was soft, silky and Damon wondered how her moans sounded.
She replied, "I don't expect anything from you. I am not Elizabeth. She was the one with expectations and what not. I just run a modest pawn shop where items of interest and certain antiquities can be bought and sold. So, if you wish to purchase something or sell something, then I am happy to see to you and do business with you. Otherwise, feel free to browse; I have some tasks I need to see to."
Damon smirked at her predatorily. He taunted her, "Oh, don't be all that modest. It doesn't suit you. From what the rumor mill says, you are one of the most powerful people in town."
She put the goblets aside and watched him pick up a puzzle box. She shrugged once more. Damon noticed she did it a lot and she never did flaunt or brag about her power. Not like most humans who loved to wield their power openly. It seemed like this one liked to play from the shadows. She said softly with a practiced smile, "I am flattered that people think so."
Damon tilted his head and watched her for a moment. He finally asked, "You don't give up anything, do you?"
Her grey-green eyes shone with mischief and god, the wicked smile on her red lips aroused him with surprising force. She brazen teased him, "If you asked something specifically then I'd give an answer. But as it happens you're vague and I am growing bored."
Now he was beginning to enjoy their little game. He wasn't going to be insulted so easily; because a part of the game was to agitate the other person. The one who did it the most and the quickest got a point, or so it went in Damon's head. Damon pressed a hand to his chest and mock-growled, "Bored? I am insulted."
The glow was gone from her eyes and she looked bored, really. For a moment Damon thought that maybe his game was a little rusty. But her reply told him otherwise and gave a new twist to the game. She drawled in most bored manner, "I apologize, but does that mean you will be threatening me with bodily harm in order to get whatever answer you are seeking, instead of just beating around the bush?"
Damon considered it for a moment and then asked her seriously, "Do you want me to tear you apart limb from limb?"
She deadpanned, "I don't know, never tried that before!'
Damon narrowed his eyes at her and then sneered, "You really have some nerve. You think just because you look like Elizabeth and know some things about her life; it will make me sentimental enough to spare you? News Flash, I don't do sentimentality!"
She rolled her eyes at him impudently. She scoffed and then started her own tirade to put an end to his threats, "Oh, please! You didn't hesitate to break Elizabeth when you were human, so I am kind of sure that her reincarnated form doesn't inspire any sort of icky-soft human feelings in you now that you are a ruthless vampire."
Damon would never admit it, but what she said truly stung him. It was his guilt over what he did to Elizabeth that kept him from tearing her throat out. When Elizabeth's mirror image stood before him with her accurate memory over what had happened and put the blame on him so nonchalantly, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't deny it when he knew it to be the truth. Who was he going to lie to or how could he possibly defend himself? She remembered what he did to Elizabeth.
But it was her perception which impressed him and turned him away from the dark path of self-loathing he was walking towards. He glared at her. Icky-soft human feelings, indeed. She certainly was a mouthy one and had a way with words. He smirked and told her meaningfully, "Very perceptive of you. I am a vampire who will not hesitate to drain you dry once you lose all sorts of entertainment value."
Beatrice tapped her finger nails against the cool glass of the counter and admitted dryly, "You are very easy to please then! I am not even trying anything with you, let alone entertain you so that you'd spare my life! Vampires really don't freak me out, Damon!"
Damon scolded her, he coldly did his best to put at least one crack on her mask. She couldn't be as unaffected as she was painting herself out to be. Because the truth of the matter was that she was a lonely scared girl and he was a ruthless vampire as she had so colorfully put it. He ripped her apart with his words, "You are not being brave; you are being very stupid. Who will care or even miss you once you are gone? All those people in the town who are intimidated by you? Who owe you money and would be glad to get out from under your thumb?"
To Damon's intense disappointment and more than a little amazement, his words slid right off her. He was angry, but she was cool and chilled out. Her reply was cool and distant, "I am neither brave nor stupid. I am going along with the facts about vampires I have known since I was a child. So I dare say, I know what I am doing and as for the people of the town and their feeling about me, Damon, that's purely business."
Founding Families and their arrogance. God, just because they had a vampire hating and fighting council did not make them invincible and passing their journals onto their descendants was just making the future generations even more delusional and arrogant. Stupidly suicidal, in fact. Damon scoffed, "You think you know how to handle vampires just because your parents read you stories of vampires from their Founder's Families Journals? Oh, you're in for such a nasty surprise!"
Once more she just had to turn things around her way. She deadpanned, "Nope, not from my parents. They preferred to read me the usual stories at bedtime. You know, Cinderella, Snow White, Aladdin and so on. It is from experience that I know so much about vampires. Elizabeth's experiences, to be exact."
That made Damon freeze up. Elizabeth and vampires? What the hell was she talking about? Elizabeth, his Elizabeth was a sweet, innocent, naïve and painfully transparent soul. There was no way in hell she had anything to do with vampires. If she had then she would have told him.
Damon glared at her hatefully and spat out, "Elizabeth? She never saw a vampire in her life and she didn't even know what they existed. If she did, then she would have told me."
Beatrice had a slight smirk on her lips as she answered matter-of-factly, "You'd think so, with the way she always spilled her secrets, desires, thoughts, dreams and wishes with you! But no. No need to be alarmed, though. She came across a vampire after you left her for good."
Damon shook his head as he went through his memories. There was no way that was possible. Because after that unfortunate incident where Damon did leave Elizabeth for good, well she couldn't have had any time to meet a vampire. Damon argued, "No, she didn't. She died a day later."
Beatrice reasoned, "You mean, she killed herself? Threw herself off the tree you both had dubbed 'your tree'? She didn't."
Damon's mouth fell open at that admission. No it couldn't be. His Elizabeth had committed suicide after he broke her heart. He had killed her spirit and she had killed herself. He had lived for nearly a century and half believing that. He had carried all that guilt and burden on his shoulder. It had to be true and what she was saying was wrong. But he couldn't make himself rage at her, or at least tell her to shut up, not when her green-grey eyes had pinned him to where he stood and kept his attention focused on her and her words.
She continued, pushed him really, her voice was hypnotic, "Now, think about it, you weren't a vampire and neither was Stefan. So, who could this mysterious vampire be who showed her the entire vicious and horrifying truth behind vampires and the next day Elizabeth was found dead?"
Damon didn't know what to think. He didn't know what the truth was. He felt floored. Like he went ten rounds with that crazy bitch of a vampire Sage. Damon jerked his head, finally breaking his gaze from her drowning one. He snarled out, "There were more than twenty vampires in Mystic falls back then. You think I'd let you distract me with your lies?"
She shrugged and answered in a manner which seemed innocent enough, but oh no Damon knew how manipulative she really was, "No, I was just stating the facts since you were digging around. If you don't like what you found, well you shouldn't have dug around in the first place!"
Oh she had no idea what she was starting. But fine, Damon would play along. At least she was keeping things interesting and there were many more uses of her as well as many more questions only she had the answers to. This time Damon trapped her with his eyes and challenged, "Fine, if you want to play it this way, then we shall. Fair warning though, I am far too good at these kinds of games to be bested by you and I have more than a century of experience to back that fact up. Meet me at the Grill tonight at eight, I am much more digging to do!"
She didn't even blink let alone be intimidated by him. It both made things interesting for Damon and it infuriated him to no end. She quipped and rejected him, "If that was an innuendo then it was terribly sad. But if not, then well, I am busy. Can't make it."
With her casual rejection of his offer, she was busy with looking over a ledger. Damon said in his most suggestive manner as he eyed the swell of her pale breasts exposed by the neckline of her dress, "I love a good challenge but something tells me that defying me isn't in your best interest, sweetheart."
She was busy with the ledger, she didn't even look back at him as she replied, "No, but denying you and your attempts of investigation is to my very best interest. Ask anyone in the town, no one knows about self-interest, benefit, profit gain and advantages better than I do."
Damon was amused. He liked it when she was feisty. She was so proud of the fact that she was a ruthless business woman and a part of Damon liked to see her revel in it because she was in fact a great business woman.
Damon teased, "Ah yes, your rather frightening and intimidating reputation that seems to be floating about in town; frankly, I don't see it. All I see is a very attractive woman I'd like to spend the evening with."
The way she was leaning over that ledger was offering him the most delicious view down the neckline of her dress and god, he could see the very slight bounce to those breasts. His eyes were glued to that exposed part of her skin and he was busy visualizing what was beneath the dark fabric of her dress and what kind of underwear she had on. She looked up at him. Even with noticing his distracted eyes, she was unbothered. She retorted, "True, there isn't anything intimidating about me, let alone frightening. But even your astute observations about my personality aren't enough to convince me to sit through your blunt attempts at interrogation and from the looks you are sending at my breasts, attempts of bedding me."
Damon's eyes flicked back on hers and he was excited. Especially when he saw that she was not insulted or interested. She was turning him down with her sass and although her sharp tongue worked on those other stupid wanna-be Casanovas, they had nothing on him and his persistent charms and her insults, barbs and that sharp tongue was only turning him on more and more and fanning the fire of anticipation.
He leered, "Oh, I like it when I don't have to beat around the bush. So, how about it? You and I, a bottle of champagne, strawberries and the whole night to get properly acquainted, preferably on every sturdy surface of my bedroom?"
This time she blinked and Damon was sure that she was affected. But then she just had to go and ruin everything. First she admitted with slight amazement, "Wow, you take sleazy to a whole new level."
Damon pouted at her. Then she continued coolly, "Regardless, with a very heavy heart I must decline this oh-so-nauseating offer. I think you'd have better luck at getting your answers by sticking to your initial method of investigation. That is, by stalking me. From afar. Just like dear Stefan seems to be doing right now from across the street."
Okay, what the hell? Damon didn't what to do. Be curious about how she knew about Stefan being there or be mad at Stefan for cock-blocking him? But it seemed like, Ms. Beatrice Blackwell made the call. She looked right through her shop's window to where Stefan was standing across the street. Damon knew that Stefan had been listening in on their conversation and a part of Damon felt smug when he saw that Stefan stood there with a deer in the headlight's expression. So, she didn't only like to floor him with her actions and words. She did so on Stefan as well. Damon was a little irritated that his time alone with her was cut short but he was more eager to see what would happen next.
He watched Beatrice Blackwell wave her hand in greeting to his flabbergasted brother and then waved at him to come over. Damon was almost squirming in glee. Things were about to get so much more interesting.