Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else is mine. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
* Author's Note(s)
Date posted: 17 February 2003
* Late again! Let me know if you think it was worth the wait. Thanks again to Moreta for beta-ing!
~ Thirty Nine ~
Samar rolled onto her back, drawing a deep, luxurious breath. Fragments of a bizarre but pleasant dream floated through her half-awake mind. The urgent beat of a flamenco-like melody had pounded through the air and she had been moving with it. Tristan, predictably, had been the _tocaor_, the guitarist. And her partner had been–
Her brow puckered in vexation. She couldn't remember. With a twitch of her nose, she dismissed that line of thought. Her fingers reached out, touching the headboard, her toes stretched and her back arched. She released her breath in a contented sigh.
The furniture in their underground prison may be mismatched but not at all shabby. She groped with one blind hand for the edge of the cover, ready to turn on her side again, pull the duvet up to her chin and snuggle back into dreamland.
Her fingers found the end of the material, but it resisted her tug. Frowning, she opened her eyes–
–and emitted a blood-curdling shriek.
"What are you doing in my room?" she yelped. Makoe, half-seen in the dark, even with vampire vision, had a fistful of her duvet in one hand and one hip perched on her bed.
"Get up," he said curtly instead of answering her question. She yanked the covers forcefully out of his grasp and scooted back against the headboard, glaring at him mutinously, while her racing heart slowed to a normal rhythm.
"Why?" she demanded, painfully conscious of the fact that she was only clad in a tank top and a matching pair of short shorts. She clutched her comforter to her chin convulsively, trying not to be too obvious as to draw his attention.
"We have a visitor."
The announcement captured her attention but only momentarily. "So? That doesn't explain what you're doing in my room?" she challenged.
The flat look he gave her was more felt than seen. She calmed down a little, but raised her eyebrows, knowing he would see the gesture. "Your presence was requested. Your brother won't let our visitor out of his sight and Leon refuses to 'invade the privacy of your room'. That leaves me, unless you'd rather have Salvatore come wake up you?"
Samar was assaulted with a sudden vision of waking up to the gorgeous Italian vampire. Her imagination got the better of her and she was carried off on a delicious flight of fancy for several moments.
"And what are the chances of Tristan allowing that?" Makoe's question jerked her awareness back to the present. Even in the darkness, she swore that she saw his eyes gleam knowingly.
She felt blood rise to heat her cheeks and hoped he wouldn't notice. "Who is it?" she asked, not budging.
"Jerrick."
Her expression went slack with surprise, then wary. What game was Jerrick playing now? "Fine," she said shortly. "Get out; I need to get dressed."
He rose, causing the bed to lift as his weight eased off it. Samar's shoulders relaxed. She had not realized how they had tightened defensively until that moment.
Makoe opened the door and was backlit briefly while he turned back to look at her. She kept perfectly still, huddled behind her concealing bedspread. "Be quick," he said before shutting the door and leaving her in darkness again.
* * *
Bare minutes later, Makoe heard a step in the corridor beside him; Samar had arrived. The tension in the main room was palpable by then. He was leaning against the wall beside the corridor that led to her room. Leon was seated sedately on the couch, seeming relaxed if one did not look too closely. Stefan resembled nothing so much as a watchful deer, poised and still, head raised alertly. Tristan was standing before the other hallway, radiating barely leashed force, hazel eyes trained steadily on the sixth person in the room.
Jerrick himself stood as if he had just stepped through the threshold. He turned his head towards Samar and nodded to acknowledge her presence. Wordlessly, he took three limping strides to the coffee table and opened his fist. Stepping back, he waved a hand as if in invitation. Four familiar amulets of lapis lazuli lay on the table; Samar's oval pendant on its slim silver chain, Tristan's wristband, Leon's plain gold ring and Makoe's own ornate silver one.
Everyone looked at the objects on the table, and then four pairs of eyes went to Stefan, and then to Jerrick.
"You four are free to go," their mysterious captor said dismissively.
"Four?" Leon leaned forward. "What about Stefan?"
"That does not concern you," Jerrick said tranquilly.
"The hell," Tristan scoffed. "You capture us, throw us in here for a month and now you say 'go' and expect us to just scuttle off like frightened mice?" He flashed his fangs threateningly.
"Stefan's one of us now," Leon said in quiet counterpoint to the tall, volatile vampire. "What concerns him concerns us all." Makoe noted the sharp, incredulous look the Italian threw Leon at the first pronouncement. He had obviously been a lone wolf for too long to realize when he had been adopted.
Jerrick looked from one speaker to another. It was hard to tell what he was thinking; his face was as bland as Makoe's own.
"Are you so certain you want to stay? What if his fate is to die?"
"Why keep us here for so long if all you wanted to do was kill us?" Leon countered reasonably.
"There may have been reasons for that," Jerrick parried casually. His tone hardened. "Or no reason at all. Will you take that chance?" The challenge hung in the air like a bad omen. Jerrick's gaze was fixed on Leon. Makoe stirred at last.
He carried the blood of the ancient free Gauls on the distaff side. His mother's people had once revered the elite fellowship who were the teachers, healers, judges and priests of their society; the druids. He had been brought up to hold them in esteem and never question them. He remembered the uncanny sense he had had when they were captured. The feeling had lingered in his mind, teasing him. Something in him looked at the lame man in their midst and said–
::Druid. Whatever your cause, I know your kind. You serve the greater good,:: he sent privately, straightening. The pale blue eyes flicked a glance his way but he got no recognition beyond that. Makoe folded his arms deliberately. "I'll stay," he cast his vote. Now Salvatore was looking at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. He met the green eyes blandly.
"Stay," Leon seconded. He hesitated momentarily but his answer came in a firm tone. Across the room, Tristan scowled, clearly unhappy with the decision.
"Me too," Samar piped up unexpectedly. Makoe felt his lips twitch, threatening to smile, as the other two turned to stare at her. Leon looked dismayed, either having forgotten her presence or expecting her to go back to the house and stay there until this matter had blown over. ::No such luck, hunt-mate,:: he thought to himself. Tristan opened his mouth to veto her decision but she beat him to it. "I'm _not_ about to sit this one out while you three – four – go off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what!" she said sharply. "If you're staying, then so am I. Or aren't I one of you, too?" she asked Leon, who had no answer for such a question. Her jaw tilted at an aggressive angle as she shot a look at her brother. "And if you say one word about me being a girl and not able to take care of myself, Tristan D'Angelo..." she trailed off meaningfully.
"You waste my time." Jerrick was looking at Stefan although he addressed the other four. "This is your last chance. There will be no turning back after this: decide."
Tristan looked torn. For a moment, it actually seemed as if he really would abandon his three hunt-mates and leave. Makoe watched his every move with cold eyes. Samar may have been a statue except that she blinked. Leon tensed visibly. Then Tristan's lips pulled back over his fangs. "Stay." His snarl of frustration was directed at the other three vampires.
Jerrick looked away from Stefan, resting his eyes on each of the other four in turn. "So." There was finality in that monosyllable. "Face the consequence of your choice," he said, all the warning they had. The next moment, Makoe felt excruciating pain lance him as his multiple shields were penetrated and control of his mind was ceased forcibly.
He heard Samar scream as he fell to his knees and curled forward, clutching his head in both hands. Tristan ripped off an oath. Makoe did not register Stefan or Leon's reactions. Images, concepts, accounts flashed in his head, lightning fast but, amazingly, his mind was able to absorb it. Knowledge and understanding, transferred in a bare eye blink.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Makoe tipped forward, one hand splayed on the floor, supporting him. He gasped for breath as if he had been running full tilt for miles. What had happened? He suddenly knew – understood – so many things. Elena and her return, her promise, the fights with the Old Ones, the nature of Old Ones and how vampires came into existence...
Jerrick had planted all this knowledge on him, he realized belatedly, through mind-to-mind contact, compressing and relaying the information in all its richness. There was so much to take in and digest at once; his senses were dazed and muddled. He felt oddly divided as if he had been in many places and times at once.
When the information had sorted itself out in his mind and he was able to take in his surroundings once again, he looked up to catch Samar pushing hair back from her face and looking murderous. Tristan had a matching expression on his face, apparently taking the invasion with bad grace.
Leon was shaking his head as if to clear it. And Stefan...
The Italian vampire was on his feet, tension in every line of his stance. His eyes were huge and ablaze like Makoe had never seen before. "Elena," the Italian breathed. The name was revelation and demand at once. Jerrick held out a hand, palm up, offering him something. It was a silver ring, as heavy and ornate as Makoe's, set with a familiar deep blue stone.
"Go. She needs you now," Jerrick said, sounding almost compassionate.
The Italian needed no second urging. Snatching up the talisman, he slipped it on with blind, familiar ease and left the room at a run. Watching him go, Makoe found himself able to pinpoint where the girl was and precisely how to get to her. The ward has been lifted, he noticed absently as Stefan catapulted through the threshold unhindered. Then Makoe turned his cool gray eyes back on the red-headed man standing gracelessly before him.
Jerrick was regarding the four remaining vampires. "I suppose you'll have questions," he said, sounding resigned. Without invitation, he hobbled to one of the armchairs, and sat down facing Leon. Makoe was struck by the incongruity of such physical frailness from one so Powerful.
::It serves its purpose as well,:: was the discreet reply to his unspoken thought. Makoe nearly recoiled at having his thoughts read so easily. He moved to take up the chair perpendicular to the newcomer. Samar flowed over to occupy the seat beside Leon. Tristan stood opposite Makoe, arms crossed and glowering at Jerrick.
"So... the prophecy was a sham," Leon began. It was more statement than question.
"A lure," Jerrick clarified. "To draw out the Old One known as Nigel Emery. You witnessed his unmaking, I believe." Leon nodded.
"That was one of the reasons for holding you captive. I had to make sure word did not reach the other Old Ones that one of their numbers had been destroyed."
"And now that's not a factor?" Samar asked, skeptical, colliding with Leon's, "What are the other reasons?"
"Not really," Jerrick said in answer to Samar's question. "For one, we have eradicated three of the seven Old Ones. We are – or more accurately, Elena is – now ready to face the other four. Her skills have developed and sharpened. We need not fear the other four anymore.
"For another, did you not just agree to join us?"
"What?" Tristan yelped. Samar stared at him, jaw gaping.
"Stefan's affair is your affair, you said. And, believe me, he _will_ be part of this." Jerrick smiled mirthlessly. "Because of Elena, you would not be able to pry him away with a crowbar."
"Get real," the tall vampire snorted. "Sure, you're not killing vampires but you certainly aren't doing us any favors. Give us _one_ good reason for joining you?"
A dark auburn eyebrow quirked. "Just one?" Jerrick asked.
Makoe could see that Leon was thinking better of the dare but Tristan did not give him time to intercede. "Just one."
Jerrick looked from one face to another, as if the reason could be found there. Maybe it was. At length, he said, quietly, "For the same reason you fight vampire hunters; for the thrill and the challenge." A beat of silence as everyone absorbed this. Jerrick leaned forward, mirroring Leon's pose. The change in posture added weight and emphasis to his words. "Think about it," he said persuasively. "Going up against an Old One? Wouldn't that be a greater challenge than fighting weakling humans?"
Makoe caught the odd, two-edged gleam in Leon's eyes. It was different from the spark he saw in Samar. She simply looked intrigued. Tristan's expression was uncharacteristically closed and guarded.
No one said anything for all of two seconds. Jerrick lost his sense of urgency and leaned back, a sweep of a hand at the amulets still lying on the table indicating that they should reclaim and don their respective talismans. "I'll let you think on these things. In the meantime, let me show you to the main house. Don't worry about your things; someone will be along presently to move them."
* * *
Elena...
Stefan was aware of nothing but his goal. He passed through the mansion full of hunters, unheeding of the danger. His new knowledge burned in him, a bright beacon, drawing him to the girl he knew slept in a room on the first floor.
She had not betrayed him.
Their time together – it had been no lie. She had done it all – was doing it all – for him. For them. For their life together. It gave him shivers to think of her facing such dangers alone, risking life, limb and sanity to gain them that second chance. As before, she had sacrificed for him.
And he had doubted her. He grimaced in self-disgust but pushed the emotion aside as irrelevant. What mattered was Elena. He would not doubt her again. And now she needed him.
Well, she would have him.
The little fool. His brow creased in frustration. Why hadn't she told him? Well, he thought with satisfaction as he took the stairs two at a time, he would get a chance to ask her. He went down the hallway at a half-run. He reached the appropriate door and found it open a crack. He reached out with fingers that trembled slightly and pushed.
* * *
"_You said you'd be my guardian angel._" Margaret reminded. She advanced, hands held out imploringly. "_Why, Elena? Why did you turn me into a monster instead?_"
"_No!_" she screamed. She backed away, matching her baby sister step for step. "_I didn't mean to–_"
"_Elena. It hurts._" Fangs slid out to indent Margaret's kewpie lips. "_It hurts so much._" She darted forward, vampire fast and Elena found herself held in unbreakable grip and wrestled to the ground. "_Help me,_" Margaret pleaded softly, innocently as she lowered her head to her older sister's neck. "_This will help._"
Elena woke up screaming.
Instantly, she felt warm and solid arms around her, comforting and secure. _Eiran._ These days, he kept her door slightly ajar. He did the same to his room just across the hall, so that he would hear and be ready if she needed him.
She mentally chastised herself for causing trouble. No matter how many times she had this dream, or some variation of it, it never failed to unnerve her. She drew air in gulps, half gasping in panic and struggling to calm herself. Her skin felt clammy with perspiration.
She closed her eyes and relaxed in the embrace. This was the first time Eiran had held her like this. A detached part of her mind told her that it was inappropriate but it felt so _good_ to be held. She hungered for touch. She had become used to having it, in her time with Stefan and its loss left an unexpected need in her. The same abstract part of her had realized, before they left Antalya, just _how_ long lonely she felt. Why, that first night, she had caught herself actually thinking of kissing Eiran! Had it been her imagination or had there been desire in his eyes as well?
Her reminiscing was interrupted as the hands that held her shifted familiarly, flattening against her back and applying pressure. Elena stiffened, alarmed. This touch, as much as she craved it, was not merely comforting, it was...loving.
She tried to draw back, but the arms were insistent. The man who held her buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Elena," he breathed. The voice sent tingles through her; it was achingly familiar and beloved. But it couldn't be...
A soft, choked sound of surprise came from the door. Elena turned her head to see the young man in the doorway. She recognized Eiran although all that was visible was a silhouette. Which meant...
She pushed insistently at the body holding her and lifted her head to look at the face that was half-lit from the wedge of light through the door.
Wavy black hair and sculpted features that could have graced the minted gold florin he kept in his little case. The proud brow, the firm jaw. Eyes with a thin band of brilliant green around fully-dilated pupils.
"Oh..." she gasped softly, staring at him wide-eyed. Disbelieving, she slowly laid a hand against his cheek. "Is it really–?"
The lips that she knew so well smiled, then lowered to caress hers. "Proof enough?" he asked. A silent kind of joy shone on out of his eyes and Elena catapulted back in time, to Fell's Church, a little more than a year ago.
Later, she would remember why she had wanted him gone, would wonder how he got there. But just then, she had no strength for pretense or questions, only emotion. "Stefan!" she cried and threw herself forward. His arms closed around her again and something in the way they held her promised that they would never let her go again.
Eiran and the rest of the world were forgotten until the light switch was abruptly flipped and a voice ordered sharply.
"Hold it right there, vamp!"
Recognizing Taura in battle mode, Elena instinctively twisted to interpose herself between the huntress and Stefan. "No!" she called desperately, but her cry went unheeded. Instead of feeling the blade of a knife busy itself in her flesh, Elena heard the discreet hiss of a silencer and she was jerked forward by the force of the bullet impacting her shoulder. In the ensuing silence, Karen's usually smooth voice delivered a ragged curse.
"Stop!" Elena half-gasped, half-shouted, trying to turn and keep Stefan shielded at the same time. Her left shoulder felt like it was on fire, causing tears to spring into her eyes.
Eiran, sounding stricken and more furious than she had ever heard him, barked, "Stop, you idiots. Karen, put it up." Elena finally managed to turn and knew the exact moment Stefan saw the gunshot wound by the tensing of his muscles. The blood must show up quite clearly against her beige T-shirt nightie. She knew that he would instinctively strike to retaliate. She also realized that she did not have the strength to hold him back.
Instead, she sagged against him as if her strength failed her. He caught and held her, concern overriding his urge to attack.
At the same time, Taura shrilled at Eiran, "Have you gone mad? He's a _vampire_, he'll _kill_ her–"
"No, he won't," Eiran cut her off flatly, interposing himself between the hunters and their prey, another living shield for Stefan. When Taura opened her mouth to retort, he snapped, "Whose ring do you think she wears?"
That shut her up. She stared at Eiran, then Stefan, and finally Elena, who nodded, trying to smile through the haze of pain. Karen looked ready to spit nails. She shot an apologetic look at Elena as she holstered her weapon. "I'll get Maddy," she said shortly and left on her errand. Elena kept one hand on Stefan to still him. She felt his tension as the markswoman left and tried desperately to convey to him that the wound was a small concern.
Eiran eyed Taura until she relaxed, still looking unhappy. The Turned threw a look at the couple on the bed, then clamped an uncharacteristically firm hand on the petite huntress' shoulder and began to steer her out of the room. Taura, blithely ignoring him, fixed Elena in a sharp look. "I'll get this story later, right?" she demanded. Elena nodded agreeably and suppressed a wince when the motion aggravated the injury. "Later," she said, both a promise and a subtle hint. The answer seemed to satisfy Taura; she let Eiran lead her out of the room.
Alone again, Elena relaxed minutely. She looked up to see Stefan's eyes trained on the door, jaw set. Her good hand went to touch his cheek. She was surprised that he caught it, his movements quick and predatory. Her action had the desired effect of gaining his attention, however. He held her hand against his face, as he had before, and looked down at her.
"You're losing a lot of blood," he said, helpless rage in his voice.
"It's all right. Really," she said, trying to sound earnest and dismissive at the same time. _Now_ the questions and complications were surfacing in her mind. "I'll explain – later. But you–how did you–"
She broke off as Maddy swept into the room, a very subdued Karen in her wake. "Excuse me," the healer said to Stefan, appearing completely unfazed to find a vampire in the middle of a hunter stronghold. Then again, it was hard to discern any reaction beyond the ire crackling about the normally tranquil healer.
Gently but deftly, she laid Elena on her stomach and examined the wound. "It just missed the bone," she observed. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw the undecipherable look she threw at Karen, who looked grimly stoic.
The healer wasted no time laying out her tools. It was unnerving and messy, getting the bullet out. It was wood-tipped and sharpened, so the results were nastier than if normal bullets had been used. Elena felt faint by the time Maddy dropped the projectile with an air of finality into the waiting bowl.
She sensed the healer gathering herself to do a healing and waved a hand weakly in protest. "You're in no shape to heal a paper cut. Just patch me up; I'll be fine," she insisted. "Then go back to your rest." The fact that the healer pursed her lips but did as Elena told her was a clear sign of just _how_ worn out she was. She cleaned out the wound and bandaged it, then left, taking the basin of bloodied water and her tools with her. Karen silently followed, shutting the door behind her. Something told Elena that the markswoman took a guard's stance on the other side of the wall.
Elena walked a little unsteadily to the bathroom to change into a clean nightie. Having accomplished the task rather awkwardly, she stared at herself in the mirror. There was a surreal quality to it all; Stefan being here, hunters barging into her room, shooting her, then attending to the wound and now leaving her alone with a vampire, and barely anyone even batting an eyelash. Granted, it was the middle of the night and some people tended to have their priorities reorganized when half-asleep, but still...
Grateful that the painkillers were starting to kick in, she went back into the room. Stefan had not moved from his position on the other side of the bed, where he could watch Maddy's ministrations while staying out of the way. She gazed at him, still hardly able to believe that he was truly there. Even half-alert as she was, she sensed the difference in him. Where previously there was stillness and reserve from inward-turned brooding, now he radiated quiet force and an alertness that was part predatory, part defensive watchfulness.
Sliding onto the bed, she took in the changes in him wonderingly. "Stefan," she began. There was so much to be said, so much to be asked, she didn't even know where to start. He solved her dilemma with a finger on her lips. She was momentarily reminded of Eiran doing the same, but Eiran's gesture had been impulsive, his touch shy and tentative. Stefan's finger rested warmly, assuredly on her mouth as he gave a quick shake of his head.
"Rest; let me do the talking," he said. A little taken aback at yet another sign of the change in him, she nodded, then slowly turned to lie on her side so that her good shoulder was propped beneath her. He lay down beside her, mirroring her position. Just having him there, even a foot away, was more blissful that she could ever have imagined.
"I know about why you came back, your bargain. I know about the Old Ones; I know that you've faced three of them already and that there are four more of them out there," he said. There was a pause and he drew a long breath. "What I _don't_ know – what I want to know – is why you didn't tell me. Why did you let me believe the lies?" The question was delivered forcefully, colored with anger and regret.
"To protect you," she said simply, honest at last. "I was – am – afraid for you." Her good hand reached out and her fingers twined with his, squeezing urgently. "Hear me out.
"I didn't remember anything until the Solstice. And then, when I did, I realized how dangerous this would be for you–"
"More dangerous than it is for you?" he rebutted.
"Yes," she said emphatically, and saw his surprise. "For one thing, you're a vampire and I'm working with vampire hunters. For another thing, you could die." She paused to make sure he understood her next words. "I won't. Until my task is done, I'll keep coming back." She let the statement sink in before indicating her wounded shoulder. "So you see, something like this is trivial. On the last strike, I was truly dead, stabbed through the heart, and yet, I came back."
"So, if you fail to complete your task, the price is immortality?" he asked, incredulous.
"Failure," she said ironically, "happens when one stops trying, not when one does not succeed. There can be no failure here; nothing will stop me from trying until I complete the task."
He was arrested, eyes intent on her. "And what if you abandon the task?" he whispered.
"Abandon it?" she breathed. Her mind whirled with new possibilities. Live forever, never having to worry about time or death. She would have the immortality of a vampire – no, an Old One – without any of the limitations and disadvantages. She would remain young and beautiful and she and Stefan would have all eternity together...
But she would spend all of her days running away, for Jerrick would never let her go. He would go to any lengths to force her to finish the task.
And she never be rid of her gift of Turning vampires. She would be cursed to answer their anguish for all time.
"No. I can't." Her voice sounded remarkably steady.
"Why not?" he demanded. No doubt, Elena guessed, he was thinking that this would resolve the issue of her being mortal. He didn't see the price it brought and she could not tell him. She could not explain Jerrick's obsession with the task. And if he found out about her Turning vampires into humans...
"There are reasons. Too many to go into just now." An unfamiliar look of obstinacy settled over his face. "Stefan," she implored softly. He wavered but clearly remained unhappy. "I'll think about it," she promised. "But...let's not discuss this right now." She pleaded silently with him until he gave a reluctant nod.
::Phew!:: she thought, breaking eye contact. ::I'm not sure I can deal with this new, 'strong' Stefan.::
"Now it's my turn," she said, changing the subject. "What are you –? How did you get here?" she blurted.
"It was Jerrick. He told me everything and sent me to you."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "Jerrick," she murmured, the rest of his words unheard. "He brought you here and told you everything?" she asked in a monotone.
She missed the look he shot her, an expression that said she had just confirmed something he had suspected. "No. He caught us that night we saw you in the woods. He's been holding us in one of the underground bunkers ever since."
Her eyelashes swept up and she stared at him wide eyed. "He caught you? But... he said..."
She froze. ::He lied! The bastard lied!:: Rage flowed in her blood like molten rock. ::He let me believe Stefan safely away when all the time, he had him imprisoned!:: Elena realized dimly that she was hyperventilating. She struggled to rise, feeling Stefan's hands help and hinder in turn as he tried to keep her lying down then gave up and supported her into a sitting position. The pain in her shoulder was a dim ache compared to the fury that burned uncontrollably in her mind. She wanted to break things and scream at the top of her lungs but retained enough presence of mind to grit her teeth and hold herself in check.
Her surroundings became a blur she did not register. She stalked out the door, unaware of a bewildered Stefan at her heels and Karen trailing behind them. Down the hall and the grand staircase. Midway, she saw a familiar figure and stopped, paying no attention to the four others with him.
Rage robbed her of words, leaving her speechless and staring at him, wild-eyed, for several seconds.
She didn't notice him glance past her to Karen before returning his attention to her. "Elena?" he asked politely. She was incensed by his bland tone. How dare he act as if nothing was wrong? The sheer force of her emotions felt too great to control. It threatened to overwhelm her. Unconsciously, the energy manifested in the glow she took on when facing an Old One.
"You have a lot to answer for," she hissed.
"Such as?" he asked, sounding almost bored.
"You know very well what I'm referring to. You've been holding him captive for over a month and you told me–"
"That the hunters couldn't find them," he interjected, his calm tone cutting through her tirade. She remembered, then, that those had been his exact words. "Which they didn't. I did." He inclined his head, as if presenting a reasonable fact. "I never said that they had escaped."
She descended the stairs until she stood face to face with him, her white aura growing with each moment. "Is that supposed to make it all right? 'You didn't lie, you merely misled me'?"
"I never pretended that my actions were ethical, Elena. Expedient, but not ethical. You should have realized that by now," he said unflinchingly.
"You...vile snake! You _knew_ that I wanted to keep him safely away and yet you tell him everything and bring him into this house full of hunters eager to kill him. What game are you playing now, Jerrick?" she spat his name out bitterly. She was glowing brightly enough for the people around her to throw shadows.
"I'm reminding you of your purpose, Elena. And since you're doing all this for _him_, isn't it only fair that he be a part of the effort as well?" His words, delivered in the same, reasonable tone, did nothing to pacify her. Her aura was incandescent by then. Anyone else would have trouble looking directly at her but Jerrick continued to gaze at her impassively. Their eyes met and locked; Elena's were blazing blue orbs that raged against him like violent waves, Jerrick's were the light azure of imperturbable rock.
Caught in helpless rage, Elena felt impelled to make one thing clear. "You had better _pray_ that nothing happens to him." Each word was enunciated clearly and heavy with the promise laced in them. "Because if he is harmed in any way, you will _never_ get what you want from me." She whirled and ran back to her room as quickly as her injury would let her, needing to get away, unable to contain her hatred anymore.
* If you read this, if you like it, if you hate it, please let me know! Your feedback _really_ makes a difference. Thanks. =)
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
* Author's Note(s)
Date posted: 17 February 2003
* Late again! Let me know if you think it was worth the wait. Thanks again to Moreta for beta-ing!
~ Thirty Nine ~
Samar rolled onto her back, drawing a deep, luxurious breath. Fragments of a bizarre but pleasant dream floated through her half-awake mind. The urgent beat of a flamenco-like melody had pounded through the air and she had been moving with it. Tristan, predictably, had been the _tocaor_, the guitarist. And her partner had been–
Her brow puckered in vexation. She couldn't remember. With a twitch of her nose, she dismissed that line of thought. Her fingers reached out, touching the headboard, her toes stretched and her back arched. She released her breath in a contented sigh.
The furniture in their underground prison may be mismatched but not at all shabby. She groped with one blind hand for the edge of the cover, ready to turn on her side again, pull the duvet up to her chin and snuggle back into dreamland.
Her fingers found the end of the material, but it resisted her tug. Frowning, she opened her eyes–
–and emitted a blood-curdling shriek.
"What are you doing in my room?" she yelped. Makoe, half-seen in the dark, even with vampire vision, had a fistful of her duvet in one hand and one hip perched on her bed.
"Get up," he said curtly instead of answering her question. She yanked the covers forcefully out of his grasp and scooted back against the headboard, glaring at him mutinously, while her racing heart slowed to a normal rhythm.
"Why?" she demanded, painfully conscious of the fact that she was only clad in a tank top and a matching pair of short shorts. She clutched her comforter to her chin convulsively, trying not to be too obvious as to draw his attention.
"We have a visitor."
The announcement captured her attention but only momentarily. "So? That doesn't explain what you're doing in my room?" she challenged.
The flat look he gave her was more felt than seen. She calmed down a little, but raised her eyebrows, knowing he would see the gesture. "Your presence was requested. Your brother won't let our visitor out of his sight and Leon refuses to 'invade the privacy of your room'. That leaves me, unless you'd rather have Salvatore come wake up you?"
Samar was assaulted with a sudden vision of waking up to the gorgeous Italian vampire. Her imagination got the better of her and she was carried off on a delicious flight of fancy for several moments.
"And what are the chances of Tristan allowing that?" Makoe's question jerked her awareness back to the present. Even in the darkness, she swore that she saw his eyes gleam knowingly.
She felt blood rise to heat her cheeks and hoped he wouldn't notice. "Who is it?" she asked, not budging.
"Jerrick."
Her expression went slack with surprise, then wary. What game was Jerrick playing now? "Fine," she said shortly. "Get out; I need to get dressed."
He rose, causing the bed to lift as his weight eased off it. Samar's shoulders relaxed. She had not realized how they had tightened defensively until that moment.
Makoe opened the door and was backlit briefly while he turned back to look at her. She kept perfectly still, huddled behind her concealing bedspread. "Be quick," he said before shutting the door and leaving her in darkness again.
* * *
Bare minutes later, Makoe heard a step in the corridor beside him; Samar had arrived. The tension in the main room was palpable by then. He was leaning against the wall beside the corridor that led to her room. Leon was seated sedately on the couch, seeming relaxed if one did not look too closely. Stefan resembled nothing so much as a watchful deer, poised and still, head raised alertly. Tristan was standing before the other hallway, radiating barely leashed force, hazel eyes trained steadily on the sixth person in the room.
Jerrick himself stood as if he had just stepped through the threshold. He turned his head towards Samar and nodded to acknowledge her presence. Wordlessly, he took three limping strides to the coffee table and opened his fist. Stepping back, he waved a hand as if in invitation. Four familiar amulets of lapis lazuli lay on the table; Samar's oval pendant on its slim silver chain, Tristan's wristband, Leon's plain gold ring and Makoe's own ornate silver one.
Everyone looked at the objects on the table, and then four pairs of eyes went to Stefan, and then to Jerrick.
"You four are free to go," their mysterious captor said dismissively.
"Four?" Leon leaned forward. "What about Stefan?"
"That does not concern you," Jerrick said tranquilly.
"The hell," Tristan scoffed. "You capture us, throw us in here for a month and now you say 'go' and expect us to just scuttle off like frightened mice?" He flashed his fangs threateningly.
"Stefan's one of us now," Leon said in quiet counterpoint to the tall, volatile vampire. "What concerns him concerns us all." Makoe noted the sharp, incredulous look the Italian threw Leon at the first pronouncement. He had obviously been a lone wolf for too long to realize when he had been adopted.
Jerrick looked from one speaker to another. It was hard to tell what he was thinking; his face was as bland as Makoe's own.
"Are you so certain you want to stay? What if his fate is to die?"
"Why keep us here for so long if all you wanted to do was kill us?" Leon countered reasonably.
"There may have been reasons for that," Jerrick parried casually. His tone hardened. "Or no reason at all. Will you take that chance?" The challenge hung in the air like a bad omen. Jerrick's gaze was fixed on Leon. Makoe stirred at last.
He carried the blood of the ancient free Gauls on the distaff side. His mother's people had once revered the elite fellowship who were the teachers, healers, judges and priests of their society; the druids. He had been brought up to hold them in esteem and never question them. He remembered the uncanny sense he had had when they were captured. The feeling had lingered in his mind, teasing him. Something in him looked at the lame man in their midst and said–
::Druid. Whatever your cause, I know your kind. You serve the greater good,:: he sent privately, straightening. The pale blue eyes flicked a glance his way but he got no recognition beyond that. Makoe folded his arms deliberately. "I'll stay," he cast his vote. Now Salvatore was looking at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. He met the green eyes blandly.
"Stay," Leon seconded. He hesitated momentarily but his answer came in a firm tone. Across the room, Tristan scowled, clearly unhappy with the decision.
"Me too," Samar piped up unexpectedly. Makoe felt his lips twitch, threatening to smile, as the other two turned to stare at her. Leon looked dismayed, either having forgotten her presence or expecting her to go back to the house and stay there until this matter had blown over. ::No such luck, hunt-mate,:: he thought to himself. Tristan opened his mouth to veto her decision but she beat him to it. "I'm _not_ about to sit this one out while you three – four – go off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what!" she said sharply. "If you're staying, then so am I. Or aren't I one of you, too?" she asked Leon, who had no answer for such a question. Her jaw tilted at an aggressive angle as she shot a look at her brother. "And if you say one word about me being a girl and not able to take care of myself, Tristan D'Angelo..." she trailed off meaningfully.
"You waste my time." Jerrick was looking at Stefan although he addressed the other four. "This is your last chance. There will be no turning back after this: decide."
Tristan looked torn. For a moment, it actually seemed as if he really would abandon his three hunt-mates and leave. Makoe watched his every move with cold eyes. Samar may have been a statue except that she blinked. Leon tensed visibly. Then Tristan's lips pulled back over his fangs. "Stay." His snarl of frustration was directed at the other three vampires.
Jerrick looked away from Stefan, resting his eyes on each of the other four in turn. "So." There was finality in that monosyllable. "Face the consequence of your choice," he said, all the warning they had. The next moment, Makoe felt excruciating pain lance him as his multiple shields were penetrated and control of his mind was ceased forcibly.
He heard Samar scream as he fell to his knees and curled forward, clutching his head in both hands. Tristan ripped off an oath. Makoe did not register Stefan or Leon's reactions. Images, concepts, accounts flashed in his head, lightning fast but, amazingly, his mind was able to absorb it. Knowledge and understanding, transferred in a bare eye blink.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Makoe tipped forward, one hand splayed on the floor, supporting him. He gasped for breath as if he had been running full tilt for miles. What had happened? He suddenly knew – understood – so many things. Elena and her return, her promise, the fights with the Old Ones, the nature of Old Ones and how vampires came into existence...
Jerrick had planted all this knowledge on him, he realized belatedly, through mind-to-mind contact, compressing and relaying the information in all its richness. There was so much to take in and digest at once; his senses were dazed and muddled. He felt oddly divided as if he had been in many places and times at once.
When the information had sorted itself out in his mind and he was able to take in his surroundings once again, he looked up to catch Samar pushing hair back from her face and looking murderous. Tristan had a matching expression on his face, apparently taking the invasion with bad grace.
Leon was shaking his head as if to clear it. And Stefan...
The Italian vampire was on his feet, tension in every line of his stance. His eyes were huge and ablaze like Makoe had never seen before. "Elena," the Italian breathed. The name was revelation and demand at once. Jerrick held out a hand, palm up, offering him something. It was a silver ring, as heavy and ornate as Makoe's, set with a familiar deep blue stone.
"Go. She needs you now," Jerrick said, sounding almost compassionate.
The Italian needed no second urging. Snatching up the talisman, he slipped it on with blind, familiar ease and left the room at a run. Watching him go, Makoe found himself able to pinpoint where the girl was and precisely how to get to her. The ward has been lifted, he noticed absently as Stefan catapulted through the threshold unhindered. Then Makoe turned his cool gray eyes back on the red-headed man standing gracelessly before him.
Jerrick was regarding the four remaining vampires. "I suppose you'll have questions," he said, sounding resigned. Without invitation, he hobbled to one of the armchairs, and sat down facing Leon. Makoe was struck by the incongruity of such physical frailness from one so Powerful.
::It serves its purpose as well,:: was the discreet reply to his unspoken thought. Makoe nearly recoiled at having his thoughts read so easily. He moved to take up the chair perpendicular to the newcomer. Samar flowed over to occupy the seat beside Leon. Tristan stood opposite Makoe, arms crossed and glowering at Jerrick.
"So... the prophecy was a sham," Leon began. It was more statement than question.
"A lure," Jerrick clarified. "To draw out the Old One known as Nigel Emery. You witnessed his unmaking, I believe." Leon nodded.
"That was one of the reasons for holding you captive. I had to make sure word did not reach the other Old Ones that one of their numbers had been destroyed."
"And now that's not a factor?" Samar asked, skeptical, colliding with Leon's, "What are the other reasons?"
"Not really," Jerrick said in answer to Samar's question. "For one, we have eradicated three of the seven Old Ones. We are – or more accurately, Elena is – now ready to face the other four. Her skills have developed and sharpened. We need not fear the other four anymore.
"For another, did you not just agree to join us?"
"What?" Tristan yelped. Samar stared at him, jaw gaping.
"Stefan's affair is your affair, you said. And, believe me, he _will_ be part of this." Jerrick smiled mirthlessly. "Because of Elena, you would not be able to pry him away with a crowbar."
"Get real," the tall vampire snorted. "Sure, you're not killing vampires but you certainly aren't doing us any favors. Give us _one_ good reason for joining you?"
A dark auburn eyebrow quirked. "Just one?" Jerrick asked.
Makoe could see that Leon was thinking better of the dare but Tristan did not give him time to intercede. "Just one."
Jerrick looked from one face to another, as if the reason could be found there. Maybe it was. At length, he said, quietly, "For the same reason you fight vampire hunters; for the thrill and the challenge." A beat of silence as everyone absorbed this. Jerrick leaned forward, mirroring Leon's pose. The change in posture added weight and emphasis to his words. "Think about it," he said persuasively. "Going up against an Old One? Wouldn't that be a greater challenge than fighting weakling humans?"
Makoe caught the odd, two-edged gleam in Leon's eyes. It was different from the spark he saw in Samar. She simply looked intrigued. Tristan's expression was uncharacteristically closed and guarded.
No one said anything for all of two seconds. Jerrick lost his sense of urgency and leaned back, a sweep of a hand at the amulets still lying on the table indicating that they should reclaim and don their respective talismans. "I'll let you think on these things. In the meantime, let me show you to the main house. Don't worry about your things; someone will be along presently to move them."
* * *
Elena...
Stefan was aware of nothing but his goal. He passed through the mansion full of hunters, unheeding of the danger. His new knowledge burned in him, a bright beacon, drawing him to the girl he knew slept in a room on the first floor.
She had not betrayed him.
Their time together – it had been no lie. She had done it all – was doing it all – for him. For them. For their life together. It gave him shivers to think of her facing such dangers alone, risking life, limb and sanity to gain them that second chance. As before, she had sacrificed for him.
And he had doubted her. He grimaced in self-disgust but pushed the emotion aside as irrelevant. What mattered was Elena. He would not doubt her again. And now she needed him.
Well, she would have him.
The little fool. His brow creased in frustration. Why hadn't she told him? Well, he thought with satisfaction as he took the stairs two at a time, he would get a chance to ask her. He went down the hallway at a half-run. He reached the appropriate door and found it open a crack. He reached out with fingers that trembled slightly and pushed.
* * *
"_You said you'd be my guardian angel._" Margaret reminded. She advanced, hands held out imploringly. "_Why, Elena? Why did you turn me into a monster instead?_"
"_No!_" she screamed. She backed away, matching her baby sister step for step. "_I didn't mean to–_"
"_Elena. It hurts._" Fangs slid out to indent Margaret's kewpie lips. "_It hurts so much._" She darted forward, vampire fast and Elena found herself held in unbreakable grip and wrestled to the ground. "_Help me,_" Margaret pleaded softly, innocently as she lowered her head to her older sister's neck. "_This will help._"
Elena woke up screaming.
Instantly, she felt warm and solid arms around her, comforting and secure. _Eiran._ These days, he kept her door slightly ajar. He did the same to his room just across the hall, so that he would hear and be ready if she needed him.
She mentally chastised herself for causing trouble. No matter how many times she had this dream, or some variation of it, it never failed to unnerve her. She drew air in gulps, half gasping in panic and struggling to calm herself. Her skin felt clammy with perspiration.
She closed her eyes and relaxed in the embrace. This was the first time Eiran had held her like this. A detached part of her mind told her that it was inappropriate but it felt so _good_ to be held. She hungered for touch. She had become used to having it, in her time with Stefan and its loss left an unexpected need in her. The same abstract part of her had realized, before they left Antalya, just _how_ long lonely she felt. Why, that first night, she had caught herself actually thinking of kissing Eiran! Had it been her imagination or had there been desire in his eyes as well?
Her reminiscing was interrupted as the hands that held her shifted familiarly, flattening against her back and applying pressure. Elena stiffened, alarmed. This touch, as much as she craved it, was not merely comforting, it was...loving.
She tried to draw back, but the arms were insistent. The man who held her buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Elena," he breathed. The voice sent tingles through her; it was achingly familiar and beloved. But it couldn't be...
A soft, choked sound of surprise came from the door. Elena turned her head to see the young man in the doorway. She recognized Eiran although all that was visible was a silhouette. Which meant...
She pushed insistently at the body holding her and lifted her head to look at the face that was half-lit from the wedge of light through the door.
Wavy black hair and sculpted features that could have graced the minted gold florin he kept in his little case. The proud brow, the firm jaw. Eyes with a thin band of brilliant green around fully-dilated pupils.
"Oh..." she gasped softly, staring at him wide-eyed. Disbelieving, she slowly laid a hand against his cheek. "Is it really–?"
The lips that she knew so well smiled, then lowered to caress hers. "Proof enough?" he asked. A silent kind of joy shone on out of his eyes and Elena catapulted back in time, to Fell's Church, a little more than a year ago.
Later, she would remember why she had wanted him gone, would wonder how he got there. But just then, she had no strength for pretense or questions, only emotion. "Stefan!" she cried and threw herself forward. His arms closed around her again and something in the way they held her promised that they would never let her go again.
Eiran and the rest of the world were forgotten until the light switch was abruptly flipped and a voice ordered sharply.
"Hold it right there, vamp!"
Recognizing Taura in battle mode, Elena instinctively twisted to interpose herself between the huntress and Stefan. "No!" she called desperately, but her cry went unheeded. Instead of feeling the blade of a knife busy itself in her flesh, Elena heard the discreet hiss of a silencer and she was jerked forward by the force of the bullet impacting her shoulder. In the ensuing silence, Karen's usually smooth voice delivered a ragged curse.
"Stop!" Elena half-gasped, half-shouted, trying to turn and keep Stefan shielded at the same time. Her left shoulder felt like it was on fire, causing tears to spring into her eyes.
Eiran, sounding stricken and more furious than she had ever heard him, barked, "Stop, you idiots. Karen, put it up." Elena finally managed to turn and knew the exact moment Stefan saw the gunshot wound by the tensing of his muscles. The blood must show up quite clearly against her beige T-shirt nightie. She knew that he would instinctively strike to retaliate. She also realized that she did not have the strength to hold him back.
Instead, she sagged against him as if her strength failed her. He caught and held her, concern overriding his urge to attack.
At the same time, Taura shrilled at Eiran, "Have you gone mad? He's a _vampire_, he'll _kill_ her–"
"No, he won't," Eiran cut her off flatly, interposing himself between the hunters and their prey, another living shield for Stefan. When Taura opened her mouth to retort, he snapped, "Whose ring do you think she wears?"
That shut her up. She stared at Eiran, then Stefan, and finally Elena, who nodded, trying to smile through the haze of pain. Karen looked ready to spit nails. She shot an apologetic look at Elena as she holstered her weapon. "I'll get Maddy," she said shortly and left on her errand. Elena kept one hand on Stefan to still him. She felt his tension as the markswoman left and tried desperately to convey to him that the wound was a small concern.
Eiran eyed Taura until she relaxed, still looking unhappy. The Turned threw a look at the couple on the bed, then clamped an uncharacteristically firm hand on the petite huntress' shoulder and began to steer her out of the room. Taura, blithely ignoring him, fixed Elena in a sharp look. "I'll get this story later, right?" she demanded. Elena nodded agreeably and suppressed a wince when the motion aggravated the injury. "Later," she said, both a promise and a subtle hint. The answer seemed to satisfy Taura; she let Eiran lead her out of the room.
Alone again, Elena relaxed minutely. She looked up to see Stefan's eyes trained on the door, jaw set. Her good hand went to touch his cheek. She was surprised that he caught it, his movements quick and predatory. Her action had the desired effect of gaining his attention, however. He held her hand against his face, as he had before, and looked down at her.
"You're losing a lot of blood," he said, helpless rage in his voice.
"It's all right. Really," she said, trying to sound earnest and dismissive at the same time. _Now_ the questions and complications were surfacing in her mind. "I'll explain – later. But you–how did you–"
She broke off as Maddy swept into the room, a very subdued Karen in her wake. "Excuse me," the healer said to Stefan, appearing completely unfazed to find a vampire in the middle of a hunter stronghold. Then again, it was hard to discern any reaction beyond the ire crackling about the normally tranquil healer.
Gently but deftly, she laid Elena on her stomach and examined the wound. "It just missed the bone," she observed. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw the undecipherable look she threw at Karen, who looked grimly stoic.
The healer wasted no time laying out her tools. It was unnerving and messy, getting the bullet out. It was wood-tipped and sharpened, so the results were nastier than if normal bullets had been used. Elena felt faint by the time Maddy dropped the projectile with an air of finality into the waiting bowl.
She sensed the healer gathering herself to do a healing and waved a hand weakly in protest. "You're in no shape to heal a paper cut. Just patch me up; I'll be fine," she insisted. "Then go back to your rest." The fact that the healer pursed her lips but did as Elena told her was a clear sign of just _how_ worn out she was. She cleaned out the wound and bandaged it, then left, taking the basin of bloodied water and her tools with her. Karen silently followed, shutting the door behind her. Something told Elena that the markswoman took a guard's stance on the other side of the wall.
Elena walked a little unsteadily to the bathroom to change into a clean nightie. Having accomplished the task rather awkwardly, she stared at herself in the mirror. There was a surreal quality to it all; Stefan being here, hunters barging into her room, shooting her, then attending to the wound and now leaving her alone with a vampire, and barely anyone even batting an eyelash. Granted, it was the middle of the night and some people tended to have their priorities reorganized when half-asleep, but still...
Grateful that the painkillers were starting to kick in, she went back into the room. Stefan had not moved from his position on the other side of the bed, where he could watch Maddy's ministrations while staying out of the way. She gazed at him, still hardly able to believe that he was truly there. Even half-alert as she was, she sensed the difference in him. Where previously there was stillness and reserve from inward-turned brooding, now he radiated quiet force and an alertness that was part predatory, part defensive watchfulness.
Sliding onto the bed, she took in the changes in him wonderingly. "Stefan," she began. There was so much to be said, so much to be asked, she didn't even know where to start. He solved her dilemma with a finger on her lips. She was momentarily reminded of Eiran doing the same, but Eiran's gesture had been impulsive, his touch shy and tentative. Stefan's finger rested warmly, assuredly on her mouth as he gave a quick shake of his head.
"Rest; let me do the talking," he said. A little taken aback at yet another sign of the change in him, she nodded, then slowly turned to lie on her side so that her good shoulder was propped beneath her. He lay down beside her, mirroring her position. Just having him there, even a foot away, was more blissful that she could ever have imagined.
"I know about why you came back, your bargain. I know about the Old Ones; I know that you've faced three of them already and that there are four more of them out there," he said. There was a pause and he drew a long breath. "What I _don't_ know – what I want to know – is why you didn't tell me. Why did you let me believe the lies?" The question was delivered forcefully, colored with anger and regret.
"To protect you," she said simply, honest at last. "I was – am – afraid for you." Her good hand reached out and her fingers twined with his, squeezing urgently. "Hear me out.
"I didn't remember anything until the Solstice. And then, when I did, I realized how dangerous this would be for you–"
"More dangerous than it is for you?" he rebutted.
"Yes," she said emphatically, and saw his surprise. "For one thing, you're a vampire and I'm working with vampire hunters. For another thing, you could die." She paused to make sure he understood her next words. "I won't. Until my task is done, I'll keep coming back." She let the statement sink in before indicating her wounded shoulder. "So you see, something like this is trivial. On the last strike, I was truly dead, stabbed through the heart, and yet, I came back."
"So, if you fail to complete your task, the price is immortality?" he asked, incredulous.
"Failure," she said ironically, "happens when one stops trying, not when one does not succeed. There can be no failure here; nothing will stop me from trying until I complete the task."
He was arrested, eyes intent on her. "And what if you abandon the task?" he whispered.
"Abandon it?" she breathed. Her mind whirled with new possibilities. Live forever, never having to worry about time or death. She would have the immortality of a vampire – no, an Old One – without any of the limitations and disadvantages. She would remain young and beautiful and she and Stefan would have all eternity together...
But she would spend all of her days running away, for Jerrick would never let her go. He would go to any lengths to force her to finish the task.
And she never be rid of her gift of Turning vampires. She would be cursed to answer their anguish for all time.
"No. I can't." Her voice sounded remarkably steady.
"Why not?" he demanded. No doubt, Elena guessed, he was thinking that this would resolve the issue of her being mortal. He didn't see the price it brought and she could not tell him. She could not explain Jerrick's obsession with the task. And if he found out about her Turning vampires into humans...
"There are reasons. Too many to go into just now." An unfamiliar look of obstinacy settled over his face. "Stefan," she implored softly. He wavered but clearly remained unhappy. "I'll think about it," she promised. "But...let's not discuss this right now." She pleaded silently with him until he gave a reluctant nod.
::Phew!:: she thought, breaking eye contact. ::I'm not sure I can deal with this new, 'strong' Stefan.::
"Now it's my turn," she said, changing the subject. "What are you –? How did you get here?" she blurted.
"It was Jerrick. He told me everything and sent me to you."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "Jerrick," she murmured, the rest of his words unheard. "He brought you here and told you everything?" she asked in a monotone.
She missed the look he shot her, an expression that said she had just confirmed something he had suspected. "No. He caught us that night we saw you in the woods. He's been holding us in one of the underground bunkers ever since."
Her eyelashes swept up and she stared at him wide eyed. "He caught you? But... he said..."
She froze. ::He lied! The bastard lied!:: Rage flowed in her blood like molten rock. ::He let me believe Stefan safely away when all the time, he had him imprisoned!:: Elena realized dimly that she was hyperventilating. She struggled to rise, feeling Stefan's hands help and hinder in turn as he tried to keep her lying down then gave up and supported her into a sitting position. The pain in her shoulder was a dim ache compared to the fury that burned uncontrollably in her mind. She wanted to break things and scream at the top of her lungs but retained enough presence of mind to grit her teeth and hold herself in check.
Her surroundings became a blur she did not register. She stalked out the door, unaware of a bewildered Stefan at her heels and Karen trailing behind them. Down the hall and the grand staircase. Midway, she saw a familiar figure and stopped, paying no attention to the four others with him.
Rage robbed her of words, leaving her speechless and staring at him, wild-eyed, for several seconds.
She didn't notice him glance past her to Karen before returning his attention to her. "Elena?" he asked politely. She was incensed by his bland tone. How dare he act as if nothing was wrong? The sheer force of her emotions felt too great to control. It threatened to overwhelm her. Unconsciously, the energy manifested in the glow she took on when facing an Old One.
"You have a lot to answer for," she hissed.
"Such as?" he asked, sounding almost bored.
"You know very well what I'm referring to. You've been holding him captive for over a month and you told me–"
"That the hunters couldn't find them," he interjected, his calm tone cutting through her tirade. She remembered, then, that those had been his exact words. "Which they didn't. I did." He inclined his head, as if presenting a reasonable fact. "I never said that they had escaped."
She descended the stairs until she stood face to face with him, her white aura growing with each moment. "Is that supposed to make it all right? 'You didn't lie, you merely misled me'?"
"I never pretended that my actions were ethical, Elena. Expedient, but not ethical. You should have realized that by now," he said unflinchingly.
"You...vile snake! You _knew_ that I wanted to keep him safely away and yet you tell him everything and bring him into this house full of hunters eager to kill him. What game are you playing now, Jerrick?" she spat his name out bitterly. She was glowing brightly enough for the people around her to throw shadows.
"I'm reminding you of your purpose, Elena. And since you're doing all this for _him_, isn't it only fair that he be a part of the effort as well?" His words, delivered in the same, reasonable tone, did nothing to pacify her. Her aura was incandescent by then. Anyone else would have trouble looking directly at her but Jerrick continued to gaze at her impassively. Their eyes met and locked; Elena's were blazing blue orbs that raged against him like violent waves, Jerrick's were the light azure of imperturbable rock.
Caught in helpless rage, Elena felt impelled to make one thing clear. "You had better _pray_ that nothing happens to him." Each word was enunciated clearly and heavy with the promise laced in them. "Because if he is harmed in any way, you will _never_ get what you want from me." She whirled and ran back to her room as quickly as her injury would let her, needing to get away, unable to contain her hatred anymore.
* If you read this, if you like it, if you hate it, please let me know! Your feedback _really_ makes a difference. Thanks. =)