Chapter Eleven: A No Good, Very Bad Day
He woke to soft, golden light gleaming in through opaque windows. The violent storm had blown itself out at some point during the night while he and Elena slept, leaving in its wake a pleasant, though still somewhat shell-shocked, summer morning.
Consciousness returned to him in small doses. He became aware of the warm, sleepy girl in his arms first. Several strands of long, dark hair tickled his nose, but he didn't move, not even to brush them aside. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, infusing his whole being with the alluring combination of lavender and sunshine that was her unique scent.
The forearm across her stomach tightened, tucking her more securely against him, though not enough to wake her. He didn't want that - not yet. Not when he was content to milk this perfect moment for as long as possible. He might not remember yet why Elena was here next to him, but he was cognizant enough to be pretty sure this was what happiness felt like.
A happiness that came to an end when a flurry of memories bubbled up to the forefront of his mind, bursting one by one, demanding that he relive the events of last night.
Fleeing with Elena into the bayou.
Finding refuge in a hunter's cabin.
Exchanging blood.
Kissing her.
Touching her.
Being touched by her.
This doesn't change anything. I can't give up on him.
That last memory bubble popped with malice, vanquishing the hazy remnants of sleep. He closed his eyes again, listening to the birds and insects as they whirred and twittered beyond the walls of the cabin, wishing that he had the power to freeze time and thus avoid indefinitely everything real and painful.
But he didn't, and a brief while later, she stirred, shifting and adjusting her head on his arm. For the next few heartbeats, she was still, no doubt coming to as slowly as he had. He wondered if she was waking up from a sex dream starring yours truly. He knew for a fact it wouldn't be the first time.
She turned slightly and looked at him over her shoulder with sleep-swollen eyes. She smiled a slow, shy smile that he couldn't help but return.
"Hey." Her voice was raspy.
So sexy. "Hey." His voice was equally sleep-roughened. "You slept well, I hope?"
She nodded once, softly. "You?"
His grin broadened. "Never better."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yep."
"On this uncomfortable, little couch?"
"Mm-hmm." He slid a hand down her side, stroking the feminine curve of hip that neither a blanket nor an ill-fitting robe could muffle.
She laughed. "You are so full of it."
"You love it," he countered, blue eyes flashing. "Admit it."
She arched back against him, a slow rub that was guaranteed to drive him crazy. "I'm not admitting anything that will contribute to your ego."
He laughed, and then without thinking, moved, bringing his mouth dangerously close to hers, a bit reminiscent of a self-destructive moth drawn to its doom-by-flame. But he was helpless to do anything else. His instinct was to kiss her. Simple as that.
Only at the very, very, very last second did he catch himself.
As he hovered just above her, fighting the urge to finish what he'd begun, she traced gentle fingertips down the chiseled slope of his jaw, over the light black stubble growing there.
His eyes flickered with heat at her touch. There was a corresponding flash in hers, sparked by shared erotic memories of last night. Before he had time to recover from the sharp stabs of lust that sent through him, she rolled away and sat up, shedding the blanket. "I'm going to make sure our clothes are dry."
She rose from the couch and went on her merry little way like nothing had just happened, leaving him aching and off-balance in the wake of their abrupt separation. Good thing vampires didn't suffer from whip lash.
Once she was well out of ear shot, he rolled onto his back and heaved out a heartfelt sigh, running a hand through sleep-mussed raven hair, thinking how thoroughly fucked he was when it came to this girl – this girl who was expecting him to do the right thing.
As was his brother, who had not sacrificed everything to save Damon's life so that Damon could repay him by stealing forbidden moments of passion with his girl in his absence.
Before despair and self-loathing could tighten their hold too painfully on Damon's heart, he forced himself upright. He was tempted to go for the bottle of moonshine first but resisted the impulse. Instead, he went outside to scout the perimeter of the cabin. He found no signs of the last, unaccounted for vampire who'd been after them last night.
Maybe she'd given up and returned to the city.
Yeah, probably so she could gather reinforcements and finish hunting them down. He and Elena needed to be gone asap.
When he returned, Elena looked a lot more awake, and she was dressed in her own dry clothes. Likewise, he ditched the flannel for his designer shirt and jeans.
Not lingering for a moment, they set off through the swamp at a much more controlled pace than they'd been able to indulge in last night, eventually finding their way back to civilization.
First stop was his car, second the hotel.
That accomplished, he escorted Elena to her room.
Caroline opened the door. "Oh my god! Where have you guys been?" She paused just long enough to eye Elena up and down. "You look like you've been dragged through hell."
"That's pretty much what it feels like," Elena said ruefully.
Bonnie's head popped up over Caroline's shoulder. "Elena!"
Elena smiled weakly. "Hey, Bonnie."
"What happened?" Caroline glared at Damon. "What did you do?"
"Me?" he said, all wounded innocence.
"He saved my life," Elena quickly interjected. She looped her arm through Caroline's and about-faced her. "I'll tell you everything. Come on."
Ignoring Caroline's protests, Elena pulled the door closed behind them. Just before it closed completely, she looked back at Damon one last time, an angel's smile on her lips. Then she disappeared from sight and the door clicked shut.
For a brief moment, he stood there outside her door, wondering if she'd tell her friends everything. Probably not. If she was ashamed at the thought of anyone knowing they'd kissed, she'd hardly be likely to reveal their passionate interlude from last night. Guess it would just stay their dirty little secret.
He sought out the others. Ric, Tyler, and Jeremy were in the midst of planning their jailbreak and sounded like they needed his help. Initially, they found his change of heart rather … unexpected to say the least, especially Ric, but once Damon informed them that he was participating in this whether they liked it or not, they came around and the plotting truly got underway.
Caroline and Bonnie joined the pow-wow not long after, having satisfied themselves that Elena was alright after having spent so much time in his dubious company.
Once they had arrived at a feasible plan, there was nothing left to do except put it into action. No reason to wait.
Plus, it was the day before the night of the next full moon, so the longer they waited, the greater the odds a prisoner might wolf out and see him not as their rescuer but as their mortal enemy. And he'd been through the whole deadly werewolf bite thing and had less than zero desire to ever repeat it. So, the quicker they got this over with, the better.
First, however, he made a brief detour to Elena's room. Just to make sure she was alright. No other reason. He knocked on her door.
She opened it, looking so fucking beautiful in a plain, clean t-shirt and shorts that the sight of her was like a swift one – two combo to the gut. He couldn't tell if she was displeased or not to find him on the other side.
He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Hey."
"Hey."
"We're leaving, but I wanted to check in first. You know, to make sure you're okay after … everything. And to see if you need anything. Also, to make sure you're clear on the rules."
"I'm fine. Caroline has supplied plenty of caffeine and snacks, and Bonnie made me this." She lifted her wrist and shook the dangly bits on her vervain bracelet. "A protection charm." She lowered her arm. "What rules?"
Brushing past her into the room, he whirled to examine the door. In addition to a handle that locked automatically when closed, there was a security latch near the top that could be manually engaged.
He tested it. "This remains locked at all times."
She bristled at his dictatorial tone. "I know."
"Do not open this door for anyone," he went on. "We need a password. Only open the door for people who know the password."
"You're being ridiculous. And paranoid."
"I'm not being paranoid if I'm right. You are basically the human equivalent of catnip for ancient evil. A lightning rod for imminent peril. A walking, talking danger magnet." Which made her one of the strongest people he knew. Anyone else would've broken or given up by now. Or died - permanently.
She glared at him.
"Tell me I'm wrong." He waited a beat. She didn't say anything. "How about 'applesauce penguin'?"
"What?" She crossed her arms with an annoyed frown. "If we're discussing passwords, I take it this means you guys've come up with a plan?"
He moved away from the door. "One could say that."
"You don't think it'll work?"
He shrugged fatalistically. "We'll see, won't we?"
He paced the length of the room, musing that things really weren't as bad as he was putting on. Tyler had called upon the members of the local werewolf packs, most of whom were in deep hiding. Almost all of them knew or knew of someone who'd been kidnapped by Klaus. They'd responded to the opportunity to rescue their kin with enthusiasm, thereby swelling the group's numbers significantly.
He paused by the one small table in the room. On it was a bottle of water, a paper coffee cup, and a grocery bag filled with snacks - chips and candy bars and a banana. Curling his lip, he turned and headed swiftly to the bed.
"What're you doing?" she asked when he glared down at the duvet.
He glared at the duvet harder. "Contemplating tying you to the bed."
Her eyes widened with alarm. "Excuse me?"
He looked up. "I meant so you'd stay put." His eyebrows lifted. "But I take it you had something else in mind?"
She became a charming shade of rose pink. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm not going anywhere."
He took several steps toward her, invading her space, sleek and dangerous as a wild panther, fluid as a shadow. Blue eyes glowed. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
She gazed up at him steadily, but her voice trembled. "Because I've learned my lesson."
He scoffed. "Yeah, right, that'll be the day."
Her chin lifted. "I promise I'll stay here. I guess it's finally time to accept I'm the unluckiest person in the world." Hope manifested itself in those luminous eyes. "Unless you or Bonnie have made any headway in figuring out if there's a who who's really behind all these accidents?"
His expression darkened. He shook his head dismissively. "Not yet." A necessary lie, but one guaranteed to piss her off as soon as she uncovered the deception.
Perhaps she picked up on the tension arising in him, because her hands twitched suddenly in agitation. She clasped them in front of her, holding them still. She peered up at him through long, shining lashes. "You're all bad mood-y. We're okay, right? You and me?"
"Sure." Black brows arched in challenge. "Why wouldn't we be?"
Her lips curved downward the tiniest fraction. "I just wasn't sure if – if you were…."
"Nope." He didn't know what she'd been about to accuse him of. It didn't matter - his answer remained the same. He looked away. "What's not okay is that I agreed to this lunacy, for some godforsaken reason. I really don't like leaving you here alone."
In fact, the thought of leaving her here by herself filled him with a sense of dread he'd been trying to shake all morning and couldn't. Yes, Klaus wasn't in New Orleans currently, and yes, the magic should be dormant for a little while before it struck again. And yet ….
And yet.
Maybe it was just a lingering unease left over from not knowing for certain what had become of the third vampire chasing them last night. Or maybe it was because it felt like the harder he tried to keep her safe, the more determined Elena was to defy him at every possible opportunity.
Either way, he didn't like this at all.
She smiled. "Thank you for doing it anyway."
He scowled irritably.
"If it helps," she persisted, "if you guys succeed, you'll piss off Klaus."
He pressed his lips together but ultimately couldn't repress the reluctant smile that insisted on forming. "That does help."
"But you have to be careful, okay?"
"I hope that's a rhetorical question."
"Damon." The look she gave him was imploring.
He reached out and took her hand in both of his, hoping she would allow the touch. She did. He stroked his thumb over velvety soft skin. "Everything will be fine, I promise. They have no idea we're coming. We'll just slip in, stage a full-scale escape from Klaus-jail, and slip out. With any luck, they'll never even know we were there until it's too late and we're already long gone."
She frowned, whether at his glib tone or whether from contemplating all the things that could go wrong, he couldn't tell. "I wish I was going with you. Are you sure you don't want me to come?"
His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked in his cheek.
"A joke, I swear," she hurriedly assured him. "Please don't tie me to the bed."
"Not until you beg me to."
She gave him a scandalized look, jerking her hand from his.
He leaned in, let his breath warm the curve of her neck, filled his lungs with the balm of her sweet, clean fragrance. "And I think we both know that one day you will."
If she was ever ready to admit what she truly wanted.
And when and if that day ever came, he'd tie her to his bed and never let her leave. He'd devote himself to her pleasure so she'd never want to leave.
Her mouth opened, and she looked like she was about to deny his arrogant claim, but she must have discerned something of his thoughts in his heated blue gaze because her throat muscles froze and no sound emerged. As if they'd been drawn by a magnet, her eyes dropped to his mouth, to the seductive shape of full, masculine lips. Very deliberately, he wet those lips, a slow glide of tongue that made her pupils dilate. Her jaw slowly retracted. She swallowed, throat muscles convulsing.
Invisible currents of desire, hot and electric, flowed all around them, seething with intensity. A solitary spark would be all it took to start a raging inferno.
Wholly caught in the tug and pull of one of those dark currents, Elena swayed in his direction. Her blood was racing seductively through her veins, coloring her cheeks. Those rose petal lips parted again just the slightest bit, beckoning him to sample their lushness, to lose himself in her heavenly taste.
Christ. She was asking him for it with her eyes, her mouth, her body. No, begging for it.
As the scent of her arousal wreaked havoc on his senses, his fingers slowly curled inwards, clenching until they formed fists. Denying his need for her was, without a doubt, the hardest thing he'd ever done. It was sheer agony.
Especially now when he could recall the husky quality in her voice as she cried out his name in passion. And her mesmerizing response to his touch.
But he'd do it – or at least try - not because he wanted to, but because it was the right thing to do by her.
He had to try to be good for her.
She wasn't giving up on Stefan any time soon. She'd made that perfectly clear. Her passionate, intimate encounter with Damon last night, every detail of which had been scorched irrevocably upon the fabric of his soul, hadn't changed anything for her.
And why should it? This wasn't a contest. She'd made her choice long ago. She loved Stefan. Period. End of story. The two best people he'd ever known, and they deserved each other. They deserved to be happy. Resisting her was the right thing to do.
He needed to remember that.
Maybe if he told himself a thousand more times, it might start to feel true.
As he grappled fiercely with his self-control, a battle he was inevitably doomed to lose, his fingers clenched even harder, nails drawing blood from his palms. He teetered helplessly on the brink of snarling fuck it and kissing her senseless in spite of all the reasons not to.
Elena actually started to take a step, the step that would close the distance between them, when Caroline's voice resounded through the door, accompanied by a sharp knuckle rap. "Damon, it's time to go!"
The spell between him and Elena broke.
Even though it was for the best, because god knows what he'd been about to do, he still had a powerful urge to strangle Caroline. "I know," he groused.
"Then come on!" Elena's annoying blonde friend called back.
Elena had reversed course by then and stepped back, a small distance, and yet she'd never been further out of his reach. She crossed her arms, though she softened the warding gesture with some advice. "You should really call Elijah."
"I'd rather stab my eyes out."
She sighed, as resigned a sound as he'd ever heard. "Promise you'll be careful."
He stepped toward her until their foreheads were almost touching. He softly caressed her hair, just the sleek and glossy strands spilling forward over one of her shoulders. "I promise that as long as I have you worrying about me, I'll be fine."
Exasperation flared in her dark eyes. "That doesn't make any sense."
"It doesn't need to."
They both heard Caroline's impatient huff through the door.
He scowled.
Elena laughed. "You'd better go," she said. "Sounds like you're holding everyone up."
"Don't even so much as think about leaving," he warned. "Keep the door locked. Applesauce penguin."
"I won't, I will, and got it." She stared right into his eyes and smiled, her nose crinkling adorably. "Just think – keep this up and pretty soon you'll be a regular hero."
"I'm not changing my hair," he grumbled, referring to Stefan's hero hairdo.
"Don't change your hair," she agreed. "I'll be right here waiting when you get back."
With that assurance, he left her. He just needed to get this little insane mission over with, and then he could return to her and do whatever was necessary to kill Klaus, bring Stefan home, and ensure Elena was safe and happy.
They drove multiple vehicles and met up with the werewolves half a mile away from Klaus's compound. Damon was pretty positive this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd tried to convince Elena, but when a head count revealed their new total to be twenty-seven, he felt like their odds had greatly improved. That many werewolves might actually give them a fighting chance if it that's what it came down to.
And in his experience, that's always what it came down to.
They descended the nearest sewer hole and traveled through the tunnels, making their way toward a drainage grate that was going to be their ticket into the compound.
As they balanced carefully on the slim concrete walkway above the raw sewage flowing past, Caroline squeezed up beside him.
He slanted an irritated look her way. "What?"
"Elena told me what you did for her."
The topic of Elena slightly mollified him. "And?"
"I wanted to tell you I've come to the conclusion that maybe you're not a completely completely horrible person after all."
He rolled his eyes. "Gee, that's big of you, Caroline. I'm touched."
"Don't get me wrong, I still don't like you, but I do believe you'll protect Elena." She was silent for a moment. Then her forehead creased in concern. "I just hope that includes protecting her from you."
Sculpted features instantly hardened, as though he'd turned to frozen marble. He was not discussing this with Caroline.
"She's confused right now," Caroline plunged on. "She belongs with Stefan, and she knows that, but she's feeling lonely and vulnerable without him, and in the meantime she definitely does not need you screwing with her head, confusing her even more."
He rounded on Caroline, forcing her to halt or else collide with him. "Did she say something?"
"She didn't have to. Everyone can tell there's something weird going on between you two." She crossed her arms. "I just hope that deep down you're the person Elena for some reason thinks you are and that you aren't going to take advantage of her trust in you." She stepped right up to Damon until she was nose to nose with him. "Because if you do, if you do anything to hurt her, I'll drive a stake right through your black heart and not think twice about it."
Damon tensed, face expressionless.
Tyler walked up and laid a hand on the small of Caroline's back. "Is there a problem?"
"Nope, no problem," she replied perkily with a big smile. "Right, Damon?"
Rather than respond, he pivoted and walked away, vibrating with the urge to hit something. But that would solve nothing since what he really wanted was to snatch Caroline's words out of the air and rip them apart and smash them into oblivion. Destroy the truth in them that had gone through his heart like the serrated edge of a knife.
Unfortunately, that was impossible.
Not a moment too soon, they reached the correct spot beneath the bottom level of the compound.
Damon told Ric, "I'll go first, take a look around. Tell the others to wait."
He waited just long enough for his friend to nod assent. Then, he jumped straight up, applying a good bit of his strength to knock the grate out of the way. His fingers successfully curled over the slimy lip of the grate. Excellent, no boundary spell. He was free to enter.
Cautiously, he poked his head through. Didn't see anyone. He hauled himself in, then turned back down to Ric and Caroline and the others, all gazing up at him with round, wide eyed faces.
"It looks like a storage closet. There's no one here," he whispered. "I'll be right back."
He stood and walked up to the door. He gingerly rested his hand on it, stretching his senses out, searching, seeking. He detected the unpleasant smells associated with too many people crammed into close quarters for too long, as well as the sound of multiple hearts beating, a bewildering amount. He wasn't able to pick up on anything that indicated one way or the other whose hearts they were.
He gave the knob a try, alert for anything and everything. The door swung open easily, metal hinges creaking in protest.
He waited for an alarm to sound or voices to cry out.
Nothing happened.
Padding silently over the packed earth floor, he crossed the threshold into a large chamber.
He waited again.
Still nothing.
Something wasn't quite right. He could sense it.
His night vision pierced the flickering shadows cast by a few inadequate candles. The place was gloomy as a crypt. Had a definite dungeon vibe to it.
True to a dungeon were the lack of windows and the dozens of prisoners lining the slick, musty stone walls. They were fettered to the wall with heavy metal chains. Heavy metal cuffs encircled their ankles.
The prisoners barely reacted to his presence. Some of the dirty faces turned dully toward him, chains clinking together, but most didn't even glance his way.
There were no signs of any vampires. Which meant … no guards. That immediately triggered huge red flags in his brain. Perhaps they weren't suspecting a rear infiltration, but to not have a single guard watching over such crucial and rare hostages? Not likely.
He could see doorways branching off from this chamber, and Damon suspected this was but a single room in a sprawling, complex underground level. He fully intended to explore but decided the wisest course would be to update the others first.
He returned to the grate opening. "Found the prisoners. They're unguarded, but that might be because they're shackled to the wall."
This caused several of the wolves, still human, to bare their teeth in anger.
"Everything seems clear, but … this feels like a trap. I'm going to take another look around. Wait here."
Tyler shook his head. "No. We all go in now and get everyone out as fast as possible."
Damon snorted. "Are you really that big of a dumb-ass?"
Tyler just glared in challenge. Damon could read the alpha douche bag writing on the wall. He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, lead the way, Geronimo."
He moved aside when Tyler jumped up and then aided the others in climbing through the gate. The wolves raced to the sides of their chained brethren. Many of them were openly embracing and weeping at their reunion.
Doing his best to avoid all that, Damon went over to the nearest chained prisoner. He grasped the cool metal ring by which their chain was affixed to the wall and tugged. It didn't budge. He scowled and tugged harder, actually putting some effort into it this time. Not even a creak or a groan or a crack in the stone wall. He pulled with all his might, straining his muscles to their limits. Didn't do a damn thing.
Ric appeared beside him. "Tried picking one of the ankle cuffs with the same result. The chains are probably spelled."
Damon stepped back, shooting the chains a disgruntled look. "Clearly." He looked around for Bonnie and spotted her close by. Sidling up to her, he asked, "Got a spell handy in that witchy brain of yours for lock picking? Presto unlock-o?"
Bonnie made a face at his poor joke, then grew thoughtful. "Maybe I can come up with something."
"Good. Sooner's better than later."
He explored further through the dank basement, curious what else might be down here. And perhaps he harbored the tiniest hope of learning something useful in his quest to locate and kill Klaus. Maybe, just maybe, Stefan had left one of his journals lying around somewhere down here, and amidst all the mopey adjectives, he'd written down their projected summer travel itinerary?
Damon ducked through a doorway that turned out to be a long passageway. A sharp bend blocked the end from sight. He pressed on, conscious that the others were following behind him.
He had promised Elena to protect and look out for everyone, and here he was possibly leading them straight into the gaping jaws of danger.
Literally and metaphorically shrugging off a sense of foreboding, he rounded the bend and stopped abruptly when he found himself face to face with a veritable horde of vampires. The vampires all stared at him, grim-faced, as if they'd been waiting for an inconveniently long time.
Shit. What was the saying about cats and curiosity? And listening to one's gut?
One vampire stood apart from the rest, a good-looking young man dressed simply in black jeans and a solid grey fitted t-shirt. He had a power of presence that dominated the subterranean room, making him the likely leader of this group.
"Finally," the vampire said after a moment of tense silence. "I thought we were going to have to come get you ourselves."
Damon's fangs lengthened. Dark, angry veins pulsed around his eyes.
"No, no, relax. There's no call for alarm. Not yet." The vampire glanced at Bonnie, standing behind Damon and chanting away in low tones. "Save your breath, sweetheart. Witch magic's no good here." He spread his arms wide, a gesture of greeting. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marcel Gerard. Welcome to my humble abode."
All this was said pleasantly enough, but there was no misinterpreting the threat in the air.
Damon's mind raced with possibilities. It occurred to him that this Marcel might be close enough to Klaus to know the hybrid's whereabouts. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell. We were under the impression this place belonged to Klaus. You work for him, I presume? That must suck."
"You know Klaus?" Marcel laughed, a deep, rich sound. "You have my sympathies. I don't work for him – we work together, as partners. Klaus Mikaelson might be the name on the deed, but make no mistake, this is my house. My house, my rules. Did you really think you could just waltz in here and steal what doesn't belong to you?"
Damon decided not to quibble over internal politics. "Right, our bad. We thought we were just stealing from Klaus. Speaking of that rascally hybrid, you wouldn't happen to know which way he went or when he might possibly return?"
Marcel's gaze roamed over the people gathered behind Damon, ignoring the question. "I see Crescent and Guerrera wolves. They'll be dealt with accordingly. But you - I don't think we've met."
"We haven't," Damon said flatly.
Marcel's eyes narrowed. He was not amused. "A vampire working with wolves and witches. Who are you, and why would you betray your own kind?"
After a mini internal debate, he decided to go with the truth. "Damon Salvatore, and again, we were only trying to betray Klaus."
"Damon Salvatore." Marcel appeared to be thinking hard. "Huh, that's a strange coincidence. I think I have something of yours that you're probably gonna want back."
Damon smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Unless Klaus conveniently left my brother trussed up and lying around somewhere, I highly doubt it."
Marcel stroked his goatee. "Sorry, don't know anything about a brother." He tapped his forefinger against his bottom lip. "I may know something about a girl, though. Hey, Cheri, where are you, babe?"
"Here I am, Marcel." The third vampire who'd chased them into the bayou appeared at the top of the stairs, starkly back lit, a smug expression on her face. She held something in her hand. Someone's arm. Someone who looked exactly like Elena.
An instant of shock, of horror, so overwhelming and raw he couldn't speak. It was impossible. Elena was safe back in her hotel room. He'd left her there not that long ago. She couldn't be here with these fiends.
His brain was desperate enough to latch onto the idea that maybe it was really Katherine, and the evil bitch was playing a twisted joke on him. He dismissed it immediately when Cheri began descending the stairs and he was able to get a good look at the girl in tow. The fear in the girl's eyes was too real. The futile struggles to free herself too sincere.
Black ice invaded Damon's soul, paralyzing his limbs and numbing his whole body. His lungs refused to expand. How had this happened? How did this freak have Elena? Why wasn't she safe back in her hotel room?
Behind him, Caroline drew in a sharp breath. "Oh my god, Elena!"
Vampires parted before Cheri, granting her a path to Marcel's side. He smiled at her as she approached. Then, he cut a sly gaze back towards Damon. "Look familiar? Cheri says they caught you spying and chased you into the swamp, where you killed some of my men, including her Michel. She waited and followed you back to your hotel – didn't have a clue you were being tailed, either. Very careless. And then you left this sweet little thing all alone." Elena trembled when he trailed a light knuckle over her cheek. "And this." He held out his hand, palm up.
Cheri slid a bag off her shoulder and handed it to Marcel. So consumed was Damon with Elena's plight that that was the first time he even noticed Cheri was carrying a bag. It was a completely generic black duffel bag, except he somehow recognized it instantly as Ric's. Inside, he knew, were weapons and assorted vampire hunting paraphernalia - including all twelve white oak stakes.
Marcel unzipped the bag. "Hunters are not welcome in this city, so I'm sure you can understand why I'm getting rid of this."
He dumped the contents on the ground and let the bag drift down on top. He made a gesture and one of his followers stepped forward to pour gasoline over the pile. Marcel dropped the match that set it all ablaze - including the priceless, irreplaceable white oak stakes, his only hope of killing Klaus and restoring the balance of nature in Elena's favor.
Yes, Damon supposed, in retrospect, bringing all of them along was an incredibly shortsighted and costly mistake.
And right now he couldn't care less. All of his thoughts were full of Elena and the pain and terror stamped on her delicate features.
While the bag and its contents burned, everyone on both sides was still and silent, as though spell bound by the fire. The ice freezing Damon in place melted in the glow of the flames. A fury began simmering inside of him, a dark, deadly powder keg ready to blow sky high at the slightest provocation. His whole body trembled with barely harnessed aggression, with the imperative to act.
Marcel waited until everything that wasn't metal had burned to ash and the fire had put itself out, unable to turn packed earth into fuel, before he said, "Now, what I should do is kill all of you for trespassing. Might seem a little harsh but that's how you keep order, by enforcing the rules. But I realize you're not from around here, and I'm a civilized person, so to prove that, anyone who's not a wolf is free to go with just a stern warning. Yeah, that's right, you heard me. You can leave, so run along and don't come back."
Marcel's people immediately spread out and singled out the men and women who'd come to rescue their family and pack members. Scuffles broke out.
Damon stepped forward, demanding Marcel's attention. "Great. Let the girl go, and you'll never see us again."
Marcel's expression turned thoughtful. Elena stood stiffly beside Cheri at arm's length. He reached out and put an arm around her middle, taking her from Cheri who relinquished her hold willingly. He dragged Elena against him. Elena recoiled as he pressed his face into her hair and inhaled obscenely. White teeth flashed in a razor sharp smile. "I'm keeping the girl. Maybe next time you'll think twice before crossing me or Klaus again."
By this time, any resistance from the wolves had been ruthlessly eliminated. They were herded off to other chambers to be subdued and shackled, Tyler included. More of Marcel's vampires loomed nearby in case those who were left tried to cause any further trouble.
A growl entered Damon's tone. "We're not leaving without her."
Marcel tightened his grip on Elena. She sucked in a painful gasp. "Let me make this really simple. Leave and don't come back, or the girl dies."
Fuck that. The powder keg blew. Can't lose her.
Damon exploded into motion, impossibly fast, yet four of Marcel's thugs were faster. They jumped him before he made it halfway to Elena. He crashed into bare, unyielding earth, where they fell upon him with vicious enthusiasm.
He felt none of it, driven by single-minded intent, fighting back with nail and fang, desperation and adrenaline blunting the pain of each new injury. He had to get to her and would willing endure every second of this agony if that's what it took. Over the cracks and snaps of breaking bones and the thuds of steel-toed boots connecting forcefully with flesh, he dimly heard Elena screaming, "Please don't hurt him!"
"Enough."
Marcel's command rang out. The vampires backed off instantly.
Black boots appeared in Damon's blurry periphery, coming closer. He weakly rolled over onto his stomach and tried to push himself up. Before he could, Marcel planted one of those black boots on his hand. White hot pain electrified every single one of his nerve-endings as the small bones in his hand crunched. He let out an anguished moan and collapsed back to the ground. Blood seeped out past the edges of Marcel's boot.
Marcel knelt down beside him, weight bearing down mercilessly on Damon's hand, Elena still tight in his grasp. Tears streaked down her cheeks, hurting Damon more than any of the physical injuries he'd suffered.
"Hey, man, I get it," Marcel said. "She obviously means something to you, so I'm giving you a pass. I'm not giving you another. Try something like that again, and the girl dies. Try to rescue her - the girl dies. Try anything at all at any point in the future - the girl dies. Can't make it any simpler than that." He stood and removed his boot from the pulp he'd made of Damon's hand. "Welcome to New Orleans, by the way. Follow the rules, and you'll have a nice time. My personal guarantee."
Marcel turned his back on Damon and dragged Elena behind him up the stairs. The sight of her anguished, tear-stained face looking at him as she was hauled away almost annihilated him. Damon scrambled up on unsteady legs, out of his mind, half-blinded by pain and anguish, grunting with effort, but still prepared to drag his thoroughly kicked ass up those stairs after Elena.
"Stop!" Bonnie swiftly imposed herself in his path. She looked genuinely frightened for him, a grievous testament to how badly he'd been beaten. "Whatever you're about to do will only end in death. That won't help Elena."
His face contorted with a rage so thick he tasted its acidity on the back of his tongue. He burned with a desperate need to fight, to save Elena, to do something. The thought of waiting, of leaving Elena here to the mercy of their enemies, was untenable.
But the wisdom of Bonnie's words was undeniable. They needed to regroup.
Goddamn the witch.
To prevent a blood bath, he turned around. He cradled his crushed hand, spasming as it healed, to his chest and followed the others back through the grate into the sewers. His mind whirled with revenge plots, but none of them had a prayer of succeeding. Despair loomed bleak and pitiless over him.
Until it occurred to him what he had to do.
A cold certainty replaced the despair, wormed its way through him and settled deep in his bones. Every motherfucking vampire in that place was going to die for hurting what mattered most to him. He was going to make it happen. And it would be violent and painful. All of New Orleans would hear their screams.
He was the last one up the ladder. He placed the manhole cover back in place. When he looked up, he saw the others standing in the middle of the street. Caroline was beyond distraught, pacing and talking rapidly. Jeremy, Bonnie, and Ric hovered around her like nervous satellites.
When Caroline noticed Damon coming towards them, her eyes flashed, and she hurried over, meeting him halfway. "This is a disaster! What are we going to do? They have Elena and Tyler! They could be doing anything to them!"
"I know," Damon growled, his brain already filling in all the horrible possibilities. "I will fix this."
"How?" Caroline inquired with disbelief.
He ignored her and looked at Ric. "Get everyone out of here. Find a new hotel."
He spun on his heel and strode off. In the process of retrieving his phone from a back pocket, someone snagged his elbow.
"Hey!"
Damon looked back with an expression that caused Ric to immediately snatch his hand away.
Still, his friend demanded, "Where're you going?"
In his most glacial voice, Damon said, "To make a call."
He jerked back around and continued walking. Scrolling through his contact list, he arrived at the newest entry, put in just last night. With the thumb that had not been pulverized under Marcel's boot, he tapped the green call button. He put the phone to his ear and waited impatiently for Elijah to answer.
