Author's Note: PHEW! I was so nervous about the last chapter, I can't even tell you guys! I am so glad that you're all enjoying the mythology I created, though! Such a relief! And thank you guys so much for all of the support... It really means the world to me! *huge hugs*
"So I'm evil," Elena stated, not quite sure how to react as she leaned back against the couch, letting the revelation and the story from the journal sink in.
"And Stefan and I were doomed from the very beginning," Damon drawled flatly.
She looked over at him, sucking in a quick breath of surprise. It was the first time Damon had made any reference to caring about her since the night he had laid dying in her arms, and she wasn't sure what to do… What to say back to him.
"I wonder if Stefan always gets the girl in every version of the story," Damon laughed shortly, more to himself than her. Her heart ached as she stared at him, wanting to apologize—wanting to refute the claim and not knowing how to start. He looked over at her, then, and offered a half-smile full of sorrow and affection. She could scarcely breathe as his fingers lightly traced a piece of her hair framing the edge of her face, his eyes caressing what his hands wouldn't, and then he stood, going to the serving table.
She swallowed hard, trying to clear the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. "The woman your mom was talking about… She said there had been others. Before you and Stefan. That she had tried to warn them all about the doppelganger." She looked up at him. "I wonder what happened to them."
He finished downing the contents in his glass, turning to look at her. Then his eyes fell to the floor, as if he could see through it. "I suppose anything about our ancestors would be in their books."
She stood. "Lead the way," she requested, gesturing to the hall.
He hesitated, but set down his glass. She followed him down the hall and down into the basement, to the back. On rows of old, rickety-looking shelves were stacked large boxes and trunks. Damon carefully began lifting them, setting them down on the ground.
He finally removed a heavy, solid-looking trunk, carved out of wood, a border of elegant carvings running along the sides of it. The hinges were rusted and black with age, nearly falling off. He set it down in at her feet and together they knelt down in front of it, Damon flipping the lid to unlock it.
A musty smell wafted from the trunk, the smell of untouched, ancient documents. Damon made a face, waving it over the trunk to clear the stench. "No wonder I never went through this," he complained. He reached into the trunk and removed a leather-bound book. He made a face. "Oh, look. Another journal."
Elena made a face at him, gently taking the ancient book from him. It was heavy and the smell of decay clung to it, as if it were barely holding together. She carefully peeled the pages apart, the paper brittle in her hands.
"Lorena Valentis," she read. She looked up at Damon, confused. "Who was Lorena Valentis?"
He peered over her shoulder, making a face. "My witch of an aunt." He shuddered. "God I hated that woman. She used to bring us the most sour, bitter jellies and demand that we eat them right in front of her while she watched so she could 'watch us enjoy them.'" He made a face. "I'm still convinced she knew they tasted horrible, but god forbid we made a face while we ate them. She feigned hysteria if we did anything but rave about how wonderful they were, and our father was quick with the switch."
Elena slowly closed the journal, unable to resist a small smile at the thought of Damon as a child, pretending to enjoy the taste of something he would rather be throwing on the floor. She could barely picture it, but the image was adorable.
He removed another book from the trunk, frowning down at it. He brushed off the silver name plate, tarnished with age, then flipped it open. "Whose is it?" she asked.
"I don't know." He scanned the front page. "Benevuto Valentis," he read. He grimaced. "They sure knew how to pick names back then."
"Who was Benevuto Valentis?" she asked.
"My mom's… uncle, I think. I never met him." He flipped through the pages, stopping short on one page.
"What is it?" Elena asked, her heart skipping. She quickly peered over his shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.
The sketch was dark with age, but it was unmistakable. The man was barely twenty, with a thick shock of dark brown hair, and bright, shining eyes. He wore a vest and a high-collared shirt, remnants of a time long-past.
And on his arm, wearing a long dress with a high collar and a coy, kittenish smile, was Katherine Pierce.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Damon declared, sounding irritated. He quickly snapped the book shut, handing it to Elena, who carefully held it in her arms. She watched, stunned, as he tore through the rest of the books in the trunk, flipping the delicate pages without reverence. She cringed as one tore, wanting to stop him, but knowing it wasn't her place—it wasn't her fight.
He swore again, setting another book on top of the other one she held. By the time he was done, a stack of seven books balanced precariously in herarms. Damon let out a deep breath, staring at the books she barely managed to keep on her lap.
"We really are cursed," Damon breathed, a look of sickened disbelief on his face. She met his eyes when they slowly drifted up, locking onto hers.
She abandoned the books, setting them onto the stone floor, and quickly took his hands, shaking her head. "We can fix it," she insisted, trying to break through the dazed look on his face. "Your mother's journal… It said the original woman needs to be restored. That you and Stefan need to be brought to the original woman. And then this will all be over. The curse will be lifted." She gave his hands a little shake. "Come on. Help me get these books up."
He nodded slightly. She nodded in confirmation, reassuring him, and together they hauled the books up the stairs, back to the living room. It was eerily quiet except for the crackle of the fire, and outside, the night sky seemed unusually black.
They set the books down on the table, settling back on the couch. Elena carefully reached for the first book, gasping when Damon's hand shot out, catching it around her wrist. She looked back at him, startled.
"Are you sure you want to read these?" he asked. She frowned, confused. "You're a doppelganger, Elena. Are you sure you want to read these?"
She nodded, despite her reservations. "I should know, shouldn't I?" she countered. "I am the doppelganger. Shouldn't I know what I am?" She detached her wrist, squeezing his hand. "I'll be fine, Damon. Really."
Damon didn't look convinced, but he reached for two books, handing one to her. And together, they settled in by the light of the fire to read about the fate of his ancestors… and the doppelganger.
Katherine Pierce smiled impishly as she watched the proud, muscular boy strip off his shirt. She catcalled wildly, looking over at her loyal and dear friend. The dark-skinned girl was studying the boy with deep eyes, not smiling, clearly disapproving of how Katherine chose to use her compulsions.
"We're not going to hurt him," she admonished her friend—her dearest witch companion. She turned to her, locking her eyes with the deep, dark ones. "Now. Tell me what you're going to do."
The elegant, graceful girl turned to face her. "Make sure Bonnie doesn't get her powers back and Elena is no longer… a bother."
Katherine smiled, delighted, and toasted the girl with a crystal wine glass of the compelled boy's blood. "Exactly." She eyed her sharply. "Just make sure your loyalties don't get crossed again."
The girl nodded. "I'm in your debt, Katherine."
Katherine leaned back against the couch, grinning to herself as Matt's hands lowered to the buttons on his pants. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes you are."