~7~
~Chapter Seven~
I am building a fire, and every day I train, I add more fuel. At just the right moment, I light the match.
~Mia Hamm~
The flames shoot upward, licking the tiled ceiling and scorching everything they touch. I find myself enthralled by the sight of it, unable to look away as the fire overtakes the space between me and that monster who tried to kill Damon.
I know—logically—that I should probably be wary of the puddles of bourbon on the floor. It only makes the fire bigger, more imposing, and harder to control.
And I think I'm the only one who has the ability to do that.
The man looks stricken, as if he didn't expect things to go sideways.
His mouth forms an O-shape before he says, almost too quiet to discern, "uh-oh."
"Incendia," I don't know why I felt the need to say such a thing or what it truly meant, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.
The adrenaline rush is still strong, and things start to become a little clearer. I see glimpses of myself, almost like I'm a third-party observer inside my own head, sparking fires without a match, lighting candles by simply staring at them.
Damon… on the ground… writhing in pain as I incinerated the pavement mere feet away from him… overcome by hatred, excited over the fact that he would be burned alive…
This scares me—sheer terror settles over me like a weighted blanket—and the fire dulls. Damon is the last person I'd want to hurt. My eyes flicker to the ground, where he was just seconds prior, only to be surprised to see him standing behind his assailant a beat later.
Relief floods over me.
I want to erase the last hour or so from existence, pretend that we didn't have a fight, and go back to a time when we didn't know there was a crazy dude with us.
He grabs the guy by the neck, fingers digging into his flesh as he lifts him from the floor. I'm both surprised and unimpressed by Damon's show of force. It's an odd combination because I know that he is strong, but it's still weird to see him flaunt it like that.
"I'm sorry I called you annoying," says Damon glibly. "I hadn't met him yet."
The fire dies out completely and Damon crosses the room, boots crushing the broken glass into dust, splashing ash and bourbon in my direction.
The dark-haired man struggles as he gets dragged by Damon, feet kicking feebly, trying to get purchase on the slippery floor.
"I'm sorry!" he chokes out and he genuinely sounds as though he means it. There's something about his eyes, however, that gives me pause—they're empty, devoid of emotion.
The darkness I sense in him sends a chill down my spine.
When Damon releases him, his expression changes, and it's one of remorse. I don't trust it, not for a single second. However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about his motives.
"It's been awhile since I've seen anyone around here. My social skills are a little rusty."
"That's the understatement of the century," Damon huffs, dropping him at my feet.
"… Let's start over," he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm Kai Parker."
"So… you're saying you're like a less powerful, crazy version of Spider-Man?" Damon is underwhelmed, which he exaggerates by yawning in boredom.
I glare at Damon pointedly. Hopefully, my message is clear: play nice. Turning my attention to Kai, I say, "Why were you trying to kill my friend?"
"Man, you get right to the point, don't you? I'm not surprised."
"I'm waiting," my level of agitation is rising. I honestly don't know how long I can maintain this false sense of confidence. The longer we have to wait for his reply, the more I find myself questioning everything that just went down.
And that awful daydream.
Kai let's out a long sigh. "I didn't want to kill him… at first."
"How comforting!"
"Damon!"
"Why are you being so nice to him?" Damon asks, throwing his hands up. "If you hadn't come back, he would've impaled me with a cheap umbrella! I'd be a fucking shish-kabob!"
"I want answers," I respond. "And he's going to give them." I tilt my chin toward Kai.
"Or what?" he hedges. He seems to like pushing the envelope just as much—if not more—than Damon.
I don't have to give an explanation. The way my anger flares, lights flickering as it reaches its peak, says it all.
"No one else is supposed to be here. When I realized you guys were around, I got freaked out. I mean, it's like the start of a bad joke. A vampire and a Bennett witch walk into a bar…"
"Huh?"
Kai stands up slowly, turning to face Damon. "You haven't told her?"
"Told me what?"
"Well, to be fair to Damon, it should be pretty obvious. He's a vampire. A cheap, knockoff version of Count Dracula."
"Excuse me?"
"My bad," Kai says apologetically. "I meant to say Count Chocula."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I snap, eyeing both dark-haired men suspiciously.
That's absurd! Vampires aren't real. Though, a vehement tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach pulls me back to that horrific fantasy.
Damon was laying in the fire's path of destruction for a reason.
"I think you know," Kai says.
I look to Damon for clarification. He smiles at me—the very smile that I've gotten so used to seeing. The one that he flashes whenever he's done something particularly aggravating. The one I return before we both burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Rationally, I can't do anything but deny it. Only, I know that rationality flew out the window a long time ago. And, deep down, I know it's true. Those hospital runs in the middle of the night probably have nothing to do with creating a well-stocked first aid kit. Sure, he makes an effort to return with plenty of medical supplies, but he has other reasons for going.
Without me.
"The blood bank," I murmur, more to myself than either of them.
"Guilty as charged," Damon quips.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's not exactly something that comes up in conversation, Bonster."
"And it's not like he's the only one holding things back," Kai announces knowingly, raising his eyebrows.
A vampire and a Bennett witch walk into a bar…
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. It's a preposterous implication—I'm just Bonnie Bennett. A regular person, a human. But I can't help but remember the giant tomes I found in the hall closet, amongst boxes of games and other various knickknacks.
"I'm not hiding anything," I say, voice shaking.
The grin that spreads across Kai's features is one that exudes pity. "No, of course not, Bonnie." He grasps my hand, patting it gently.
His touch is both unexpected and weird. I can't quite put my finger on what it is that makes the gesture so odd, but I do know that I've had enough of Kai Parker for one day.
I yank my hand away, cradling it close to my chest. "Just keep explaining. Do you know why we're here… and why our memories are completely…" I struggle to find the right word for it.
"Fucked," Damon supplies, peering around the man standing in-between us.
"I'm not so sure you guys really want to know the answer to that…"
Damon cranes his neck, looking up and down the aisle, surveying the massive amount of destruction we caused. His face lights up and he grabs that broken umbrella handle from amongst the rubble. It's a sight for sore eyes—especially when you catch a glimpse of the side that ends in a sharp point.
It's dripping with Damon's blood.
I have to look away, but the offending object is placed squarely in my line of sight when Damon presses it against Kai's back.
"Talk," he commands through clenched teeth.
"Alright, alright," he holds his palms out in surrender. "You might want to sit down, though. It'll blow your minds." He pauses, waiting for either of us to wander over to the bloody, burned patio chairs on the opposite side of the bin where he got the umbrella. "o-kaaay," he stretches the word out awkwardly, "don't say I didn't warn you…"
"We won't."
"You're dead."
The silence that follows Kai's claim is abruptly shattered by the sound of Damon's laughter. "Okay, sure, sure… but what really happened?"
"You died," he reiterates.
"I'm undead," Damon insists. "Bonnie's a Bennett. Come up with a better lie."
"What does my last name have to do with all this?"
"Oh Bonnie… poor, sweet, confused, little Bonnie… surely you understand what I'm trying to tell you…"
I want to slap Kai. "Just get to the part where this all starts being believable."
"You're a witch. A dead witch, but a witch nonetheless."
"How can we be… dead? How am I supposed to take this seriously?"
"Let me show you…" Kai says, tone cajoling, as if he knows I'll resist his method of explanation.
Another dark chuckle from Damon. "Fat chance, kid."
"Come on Bonnie… you know you want to know what's going on… tell Frank Farmer over there to settle down."
"No," my voice is firm. Clear. "I won't."
Get rid of Damon… I don't bite. And unlike him, I mean it.
I keep my eyes trained on Kai's mouth, which never moves. It sounds like he's right next to me, whispering in my ear… breath tickling my skin…
Backing up, I shake my head. "Stay away from me."
"You heard her," Damon pushes his weapon into Kai's flesh ever so lightly. "Leave her alone."
"I want to know why you thought you could kill him—" I nod toward Damon, speaking as though he hadn't chimed in. "—if we're already dead."
"Easy," says Kai. I wonder how long he had been waiting for me to bring that particular caveat up. "This is not heaven—obviously. Believe it or not, it isn't even hell. It's the in-between space—a waiting room, almost. Well, for you two. For me, it's a prison, but that's another story for another day. Your grandmother—" he gestures to me. "brought you two here. Specifically. My family put me here, too, so don't feel too bad. It's a power thing. People get scared when they know someone else is stronger than them."
"My grandmother?"
"Sheila Bennett," Kai fills in.
Stay strong, Bonnie.
I don't know what to think as that statement rings in my ears. My grandmother… a warm feeling spreads throughout my chest at the mere mention of the word. I have such a strong association of love when Kai brought this unknown woman—Shelia—up that I can't imagine she would ever hurt me intentionally.
My gaze falls to the ground and I stare thoughtfully at a few sparkling glass shards as well as the tops of Kai's shoes.
"Well, that's not entirely true, I guess." Kai shrugs. "You're the one that sacrificed yourself for your friends… or so I've heard."
"What friends?" But I think I know who he's referring to; the girls in the photograph that I now keep in the drawer of my nightstand. After a bit, looking at them made me feel uncomfortable, and when I stashed it in my back pocket, the picture felt as though it would burn a hole in my pants.
"There's so much you still don't know; that even Barnabas Collins over there doesn't know. You could remember it all if you just trust me. I didn't try to kill you, did I?"
"Doesn't mean you won't try later," I say coldly.
Kai seems pleased by my counterargument. "You're smart, Bennett. I think I like you."
"The feeling isn't mutual."
If my reaction bothers him, he doesn't show it. The half-smile/half-smirk on his face doesn't waver. In fact, his eyes glimmer with what I can only describe as excitement. "I get it. And I even accept it, Bon Bon. You may not be able to see it right now, but we are on the same side. We want the same thing. You just have to figure out what that is."
"Don't call her that!" Damon snaps. "Nicknaming is my thing."
"Ooh, are you jealous Damon? Scared of a little competition? Afraid Bonnie won't want to shack up with a bloodsucker anymore?"
Damon clearly takes major offense to this and he takes the bait like a fish starving for worms. He engages Kai in a verbal battle even pettier than the ones we had this morning. They volley insults back-and-forth, completely forgetting about my presence. They are talking about me as if I'm not in the room.
The agitation I am experiencing, mixed in with a healthy dose of bewilderment, grows into fury. A very pure, uncontrollable type of rage. I wonder if my blood pressure is skyrocketing or if I'm hyper-sensitive to how tense my body is.
Probably a bit of both if I had to make an educated guess.
"Shut up!"
Both men freeze, their attention turned on the light fixtures above us.
They have begun to spark, and each one hits the floor, somehow just missing the puddles of bourbon. Is it sheer luck that the store doesn't go up in flames or something else entirely?
"I'm not a trophy and you will not speak about me like I am!" The lights begin to flicker again. "And you're fucking insane!" This is a statement meant solely for Kai Parker—if that is even his real name.
"See?" Damon interjects childishly. "She hates you!"
I whirl around to face my best friend. His blue eyes are staring back at me, mouth downturned into a slight frown when he realizes I'm not exactly happy with him either. "You! You knew about this!"
"Well, not completely… it was more of an inkling."
"Damon!" I'm a bit embarrassed by the sadness seeping into my voice. "Why'd you lie to me?"
"It wasn't a lie, per say. I just didn't tell you yet. I was going to bring it up that night," he doesn't need to specify an exact date for me to know what he's referring to. "I had to give you my blood… I didn't know what else to do." His tone is filled with regret.
"Your blood…"
"Yeah. It's better than regular medical intervention. Heals injuries way more efficiently. It's one of the perks of being doomed to walk the Earth for hundreds of years. It's only a matter of time before I have to endure a decade with worse fashion sense than the eighties." Damon shudders theatrically. "So much hairspray…"
"You know," Kai says lazily, examining his fingernails, as if he has more important things to do. "You'd have gotten that memo if you opened those books."
Reflexively, I reach up and pinch my arm.
Nope. I'm wide awake.
"I need air," I announce, though I don't really know who I'm addressing.
"Of course," Kai says sweetly. "Take all the time you need. Something tells me you'll know how to contact me when you're ready."
I make my way to the entrance.
Damon places a hand on my shoulder, which I promptly shrug off. I'm not in the mood to deal with the jolt that accompanies his touch.
Right now, despite the comfort it brings, it makes me feel ill.
"Bonster…"
"Just… leave me alone, Damon."
And for once, Salvatore doesn't have anything to respond with. I risk a backward glance at them. Kai, who is actually far glibber than my best friend, is waving at me pleasantly.
A kind farewell gesture.
Damon, however, can only stare back at me in silence, wearing an expression I never thought I'd see.
Regret.
~~X~~
I decide I can't go back to 22 Broken Arrow Road.
Well, I need to gather a few essentials before I find somewhere else to stay, but after that I plan on keeping far away from Damon and the home we created.
For a few days, at the very least.
There's so much I have to process, so much to think about. I mean, it's not every day that a person receives two completely insane pieces of news like this.
You're a witch. Oh, and by the way, as if that isn't crazy enough, you're also dead.
But it does seem true, the more I replay Kai's words over, analyzing everything from his tone of voice to his body language. Why else would a random aisle in a grocery store erupt into flames; at the very moment my emotions began going haywire? How else would it explain why I just seem to know things?
I stomp up the driveway and into the little house, wondering where I should start. I decide to grab a few necessities from my bedroom, mainly clothes, and work my way back to the foyer.
As I'm shoving things into my tote bag, I wince. I don't know how long I'll want space or if it's even safe for me to leave Damon alone with Kai lurking around Mystic Falls.
But if what Kai told us is real, if we are dead, could he really kill us? He could be playing the whole purgatory versus the afterlife schtick up. What—if any—difference is there between here and wherever it is that souls go when their human bodies are no more? Am I even grasping the point my new acquaintance was trying to make?
I trudge downstairs after I grab a few toiletries from the bathroom, circling back to my room at the last second to grab that picture I hid from myself. I have a hunch I might need it. The last items on my list are ones that I wish I could do without.
The tomes in the hall closet.
They are far too big (as well as ridiculously heavy) to fit in my travel bag. So, I have to carry them in my arms, as I try not to buckle under the extra weight.
An impossible task, seeing as I have no clue as to where I'll spend the night.