Summary: Elena remembers why she came back and her world comes crashing down. Now she must face the terrifying Originals, risking life and sanity in a desperate bid for Stefan and for her humanity!
Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and any other names you recognize from the books, 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: 29 November 2003
* Rated for mild violence. See reviews section for author's ramble.
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~ Forty Nine ~
He had thought that if he put some distance between them, his feelings for her would fade with time. He had thought that keeping himself busy with the tasks assigned to him would distract him dwelling on her. He had thought that watching how well they fit together, she and her vampire beaux, would lay his restless longing to rest.
He had been so wrong.
::So Eiran Blake, what are you going to do about it?:: he found himself asking as the plane broke through the clouds and turned in its approach to the airstrip. Prominent Seattle landmarks could be made out from this height, if just barely.
::Just hold on a bit longer,:: his mind supplied, tired-sounding but logical. ::After the task is done, she will leave and you will never see her again. And then you can get on with rebuilding your life.::
::Or...you could try fighting for her?:: Eiran's head lifted sharply. ::Ridiculous!::
::Not so. We all know who treats her better. It's certainly not that self-centered, self-hating vampire.::
::She loves Stefan. Always have, always will. He's the reason she agreed to take on this task. How can I compete with that?::
::He's also the one who got her killed in the first place. You've heard the full story. Are you going to stand by and let him keep causing her hurt after pain? Oh, sure, it's not likely that either of them will get murdered again after this, but you know very well that there are things worse than death.::
The thought of Elena suffering jerked Eiran up short.
::Besides,:: the voice of reason and persuasion continued, ::You know that she does care for you. She's even attracted to you.::
An image of her face, that night he had comforted her in Antalya, flashed vividly in his mind's eye.
::If Stefan had stayed out of the picture a little longer... who know what might have been? And what you both would have shared might be greater than what she has with him.::
And suddenly, other voices, all his own, chimed in.
::All that might be needed is a chance...::
::If you try, you may lose Elena. But then, you will anyway, if you don't try. Then again, if you try, you might win her.::
::What have you got to lose?::
::This is madness!:: he exclaimed inwardly. Nothing of his private struggle shows on the outside, save the hardened intensity of his unseeing gaze out the jet's viewport.
Yet, the seed of thought, once planted, was not so easily killed...
When the plane finally taxied to a halt, it was almost a relief to turn his mind to more practical matters. He rose with the rest of the task force, picking up luggage and heading for the exits. His eyes fell on the still figure seated alone near the back of the passenger compartment.
Eiran reached out and touched Jerrick's sleeve as the latter passed. The witch looked exhausted and with good reason; he had been single-handedly keeping the Old One unconscious - had been the only one who could. The red-haired man looked frailer than ever.
"Jerrick, I'm concerned about Jason," Eiran confided in a low voice.
The other regarded him calmly, then shifted his gaze to where the vampire hunter was slouched in his seat, as if immune to the activity around him.
Jerrick turned back to Eiran. "What is on your mind?"
"He's soured on the mission. That's dangerous. He might...cause trouble," Eiran said vaguely. The sentiment was there, if the explanation was not very concise.
Jerrick appeared to consider this for a moment then nodded once. "Let me go talk to him."
Eiran did not look reassured but accepted that when Jerrick touched his arm in return briefly before moving on. The Turned spared the limping figure and his brooding destination another glance before going about his own tasks - and returning to his own ruminations.
* * *
"May I sit down?"
The fist on the armrest didn't clench, but the muscles of that arm did tighten at the sound of that voice. Jason barely flicked a glance up when Jerrick stopped in the aisle beside him. "If I said no, would you go away?" he asked rhetorically. "Besides, it's your plane."
Which was technically true, since Jerrick had chartered the jet from England. The task force had flown on regular transit from Seattle to New York and then to London on the Concorde and a short hop to Birmingham.
On the return journey, however, with Emson McModrey in custody, commercial flight had not been an option. Jerrick had directed them to a deserted airstrip where the jet waited to take them to Seattle. It was not as fast as the Concorde, but it was more direct and certainly more discreet. No one had argued at the need for stealth.
Still, it had made Jason rethink some basic assumptions he had made of this entire fight against the Old Ones. He had assumed that it had been Crystal financing the effort, with Jerrick supplying the knowledge to effectively combat the immortals.
But the jet had certainly not come from Crystal. Nor the sprawling estate from which the Turned operated now, come to think of it. It had all been arranged smoothly, with no sign of a new benefactor. Was Jerrick financially capable of carrying these operations out, then? He had often mentioned operatives that no one ever saw or heard. It pointed to vast resources.
So, if Jerrick had not allied with Crystal for her money, why had he done so in the first place? The question - and the lack of an answer to it - made Jason acutely uncomfortable. Which did nothing for his temper.
His eyes shifted to rest on the limp, senseless figure who was being lifted by two well-built Turned. Three witches stood nearby, continuously monitoring the unconscious Old One for signs of waking. The last estimate was that he would not wake for another two hours, but they were taking no chances.
Jason turned his eyes away from the activity there, reluctantly looking at the frail-looking, cold-blooded, arrogant son of a bitch in front of him.
"Was there something you wanted?" he asked, bluntly. He would have to get moving soon. Timing, timing...
With Elsa gone, it would be all up to him now.
Jerrick regarded him with deceptive placidity. "To talk."
By now the plane was empty, save the two of them. Jason folded his arms and got to his feet. "There's nothing for us to talk about," he snapped.
"Oh, but I think there is." Something in that calm statement made Jason pause in the act of stalking off. Almost unwillingly, he slanted a look over his shoulder to find Jerrick smiling faintly, eyes trained out the window. "What you have planned is really going to cause a lot of… trouble. For everyone. I would suggest you abandon that idea."
Jason stepped back and leaned down, putting himself intimidatingly close the witch. "And what is it you think I'm planning, Jerrick?" The name came out nastily.
"Hijack the Old One and go running back to Crystal."
Jason stilled. It was the stillness of a predator gathering itself to pounce as it calculated the movement with eyes steady on its prey.
The redhead turned to meet his eyes, unflinching despite the close proximity of their faces. "With Elsa gone, it must be so much harder on you to pull off that agenda, isn't it, Jason?" Jerrick went on, apparently unfazed.
Bringing up the dead huntress sparked the archer's anger anew. "Is that why you didn't mind that she died?" he hissed back before he could stop himself.
"No, of course not." The witch's tone was not exactly gentle, but it was soft, if a little absent. Then it strengthened. "But I do think you should forget about taking the Old One from us. After all, how can it succeed if we know what you already plan?"
Jason felt fury roar up, cold and hot at once, paralyzing him. After a moment, he found his voice. "You're bluffing. No one else knows, otherwise, they would have acted suspicious!" he scoffed.
"Would you take that chance?" Again, unruffled, utter calm. Somehow, it only incited the archer to greater anger. His hand slipped to his side.
"Yes, you bastard. If it will stink up your plans, I'm willing to gamble." Light reflected off the gleaming barrel that appeared between them suddenly. "And to better my odds, let's create a little distraction."
In the quiet of the deserted cabin, the shot sounded shockingly loud.
The witch bent in half in his seat as Jason stepped back, his hand falling to his side. A dark patch began to spread rapidly on the lame man's back.
"You have no idea how good that felt," Jason said in parting. His abrupt departure caused him to miss the sight of Jerrick smiling, through his pain, in satisfaction.
As he strode across the asphalt, three of the Turned were running back to the plane, no doubt having heard the gunshot. He angled himself away from them, heading to the car with the Old One inside it. _They_ were focused only on reaching Jerrick, though one wavered between heading him off and ensuring Jerrick's safety.
Jason reached the Old One unchallenged. Without hesitation, he struck all three attending witches in quick succession. Leaving the crumpled bodies on the ground, unconscious, but breathing, he slid behind the wheel and floored the accelerator.
One handed, he reached for his cell-phone and hit the speed-dial.
"Yes," the velvet voice on the other end answered on the first ring.
"Got him. Be prepared for fire," he said tersely.
There was a pause. "Right. Backup waiting for you as planned. I'll put them on alert."
He hung up with a curt sound of acknowledgement.
A glance in the rear view mirror showed the rest of the task force scrambling to give chase. So the witch had been bluffing, after all.
The archer glanced at the empty passenger seat beside him, where Elsa should have been. Another look in the rear view showed the Old One, still senseless and swaying helplessly with the car's motion.
After that, he focused his attention on the road and on staying ahead of the cavalcade on his tail.
Finally, the designated intersection loomed ahead. Jason barely tapped the brake pedal as he rounded the corner and gunned for the rendezvous point.
They were waiting there for him. As soon as he passed them, four cars drove off the shoulder of the all-but-deserted street, effectively blocking the cars that were bearing down on him.
Jason didn't hesitate: he kept right on going, though he eased the car back into speed limit once he had put some distance between himself and the impromptu roadblock.
They knew where he was going, so he had to choose a careful route back and still keep from being ambushed at the entrance to the Baron place.
Fortunately, the driveway was clear and he was admitted with alacrity. As he pulled up in front of the mansion, the front door opened. He tensed.
"Jason?" the petite figure in the doorway called disbelieving. Taura's brow furrowed and she stepped up to the car as he got out. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea of what's going on? Where's Elsa?" she asked, rapid fire.
She noticed the other figure in the car then, and stopped.
"Either help me or shut up and go away," he replied shortly, flinging open the backdoor and reaching for the Old One.
"What's going on?" Taura asked again but she did step forward to lend a hand. "Crystal's suddenly called the lieutenants for a meeting - in the basement." Unfortunately, her height proved a disadvantage and he had to manage on his own.
"Basement, huh?" Jason muttered, half grunting as he kicked the car door shut and hauled the inert body of the red-haired man into the hallway. Emson McModrey was as tall as Jason himself and of broader build. He didn't know how much longer before the Old One woke up and he intended to work as quickly as possible to avoid taking any chances.
He didn't answer her question of where Elsa was, though it burned in his mind.
Incongruously, Crystal had gathered the hunters around the indoor pool. She herself was lounging carelessly in the Jacuzzi, which was built into a raised platform.
Vivid green eyes rested appraisingly on him as he appeared in the room and heads turned to follow her stare. A hush fell over the gathering.
"Where is Elsa?" the vampire leader broke the silence.
That damned question again. "She's dead," he answered flatly, his hammered tone doing nothing to hide his fury. He thought he heard Taura draw a sharp breath behind him. The stillness grew profound.
"I trust it was worth it?" Crystal asked.
Jason's lips twisted and he stepped further into the room. A path cleared for him wordlessly. The archer dropped the limp body in front of the Jacuzzi.
"An Old One," he said shortly, with a graceless wave of a hand.
She leaned over the edge of the platform to peer down at the man on the floor, then sat back with a touch of satisfaction. She glanced to the side, signal enough that a pair of hunters came forward, lifted the Old One onto a chair and shackled him in place. They then picked up the chained immortal and proceeded to position place him in the middle of the indoor pool.
Jason turned away from the sight to notice an unfamiliar man standing at the base of the steps leading to the Jacuzzi. The cut of his grey-green suit looked faintly military.
"This is Austin," Crystal said, noting his attention. Jason looked up to catch her cat-like smile. "He's a witch of some repute, I've been told." She turned her attention back to the Old One, a slight frown touching her features.
"He hasn't woken up. Is he knocked out so badly?" she asked.
"Nope. He's under a spell."
"Ah. Well, then, Austin, would you..." Crystal trailed off and her pet witch looked at her attentively. "No, on second thought, let's see for ourselves what an _Old One_ is like. Mac," she nodded and a hunter with flax-like hair stepped forward. She simply tipped her chin towards the Old One and the young man half-bowed. Stripping off his t-shirt, he waded to the middle of the pool in boxers.
He held a bamboo blade in one hand.
* * *
It would be over soon.
Elena idly twirled a lock of hair around a finger as she stared out the window. The rest of her golden mane spilled down her back, almost touching the seat of her chair.
Jerrick would be returning soon with the fifth Old One. It will not take long to deal with the last two. By the Winter Solstice, it will be done and she will be free.
A stir at the entrance drew her attention.
"I guess I've got to get used to being only human again," a voice came, wry and clear. A new Turned, Bernard, came into view with an irate healer in attendance. The ex-vampire's left arm rested in a sling. A second Turned hovered nearby, painfully apologetic.
"Oh, I'll be fine, Macey. That'll teach me to block with my bare hand," Bernard flashed a smile at the concerned faces, then he caught sight of Elena and his expression canted from jovial to respectful.
Elena inclined her head in acknowledgement. The once-queen of Robert E. Lee could still put on royal airs, it seemed, she thought with amusement. A small gesture beckoned him over to her. When he got within reach, she laid a hand lightly on the cast-clad arm. For just a moment, she had the disorienting urge to heal it. But then, she didn't have that ability anymore.
"Take better care of yourself, Bernard," she admonished, lightly but meaningfully, as she took her hand away.
"Yes, ma'am!" To his credit, he didn't try and salute before he wandered off.
Elena watched him go then looked up with a smile as Stefan took the seat beside hers.
"What were you thinking that made you look so serious a moment ago?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Bernard, getting hurt like that," she said truthfully. Stefan waited for her to elaborate and finally, she sighed. "The downsides of being a human; we're frail compared to vampires."
"If you're thinking to try and dissuade me, Elena, don't bother. I was human once upon a time and, as I recall, it wasn't all that hazardous an undertaking," Stefan remarked dryly. He took her hand and squeezed reassuringly.
She tried to smile but worry still lingered in her eyes. He leaned in to brush a kiss on her temple. "Trust me and my strength of will. All will be well," he murmured. The warmth of his breath made her shiver and she turned her face to his-
"Elena!"
They jerked apart and Elena momentarily wanted to strangle whoever it was who had interrupted them. Suffocating someone would be a useful diversion to keep people from noticing her flaming face.
"Elena, Jerrick's back and... he's hurt!"
The blonde surged out of her chair in instinctive alarm, then her eyes narrowed and she calmed to grim purpose. Brisk but not hurried, she went to meet the returning party, guided by the sound of frantic activity.
People made way for her until she found herself in front of Jerrick. Eiran stood supporting him at one shoulder and nodded to him briefly, aware of Stefan's presence at her own side. Then cold lapis eyes went to the crusted bloodstain covering a good part of the redhead's abdomen.
Jerrick did look genuinely in pain and Madelene bustled to his side a moment later. While the healer worked, Elena spoke, "What happened?"
"The Old One killed Elsa. Jason was...understandably upset. We don't know the details, but Jerrick tried to talk to him when we landed here. We heard a gunshot and found Jerrick..." He waved a hand briefly to indicate that they could see for themselves.
Elena eyed Jerrick ironically. "Shot you, did he? You deserved it, no doubt," she commented acidly.
Pale blue eyes opened and regarded her, semi-clouded with pain but every bit as sardonic as hers. "No doubt," he agreed weakly, then quieted as Maddy made an annoyed sound at them both.
"Elena, that's not all."
Eiran's grim tone jerked her attention back to him.
"Jason took the Old One. He's taking him back to Crystal," the Turned said bluntly.
No longer sarcastic, Elena caught her breath and then let it out, hissing between her teeth. "Get the Turned ready; we're going over there. Work with the witches to get the vampires moved," she issued the orders. Eiran nodded readily and a young witch moved to take his place holding Jerrick up.
"Maddy, how much longer do you need?" Her eyes rested, unfriendly, on Jerrick. His lips curled in a barely perceptible smile.
"Not long. Ten minutes," was the brief reply.
Elena jerked her chin in assent. "Stefan, call the others." She lanced a look at him, sharp with irony. "They were promised a fight and now they're going to get one."
She took in the faces of the gathered, grim and eager, purposeful and fearful. They looked back at her, for hope, instruction, courage.
"Let's go," she said simply.
* * *
The four vampires were hit with the force of Stefan's mental summons at the same time.
The urgency in that telepathy could not be denied and even Samar, lounging sulkily in her room, sat up. ::What?:: was the babble of response from all four, mingled with alertness, the sharpening of a hunter's senses.
::The Old One's been taken to the hunters' place.::
::What the hell?:: This from Tristan, who was apparently getting excitable. Bad enough that they hadn't been send to England and the two hunters had. Now they had the _Old One_? ::How did that lame fool Jerrick let that happen?::
::No time. Just move. Elena and I will meet you there.:: And then Stefan cut them off, seeming to go blank.
Outside her door, Samar heard quick steps as the others headed for the garage. She was off her bed a moment later, pulling her bulky sweater over her head in favor of a sleek black spandex top with silky sleeves that covered her arms to mid-forearm. Denims would do, she decided, stuffing her feet into runners.
The sound of engines roaring to life heralded her arrival in the corridor. No way, she breathed to herself, freezing momentarily. They are _not_ leaving me behind now!
She burst out the front door just in time to see the pale streak that was the Lotus speeding past her.
::Tristan!:: she screamed after him.
::I mean it, Samar. Not a finger or toe,:: he sent back. ::Besides, you ought to stay out of this. It's going to be dangerous.::
::That's the _point_!:: she shouted back in frustration. He didn't reply.
She was standing there, fist clenched till her nails bit into the flesh of her palms, gritting her teeth and incoherent with anger when a smooth, purring announced the approach of the Supra. The window on the passenger side slid down and Samar could see Makoe looking at her.
Meeting his eyes, her breath caught and she clamped her jaw tight, refusing to look away. Get in the car with him? She'd rather die first. But then, if she didn't, she would be left behind. That thought swayed her and she bit her lip in indecision.
A few moments passed with neither of them moving, and only the subliminal purr of the Supra's engine between them. Then Makoe shrugged faintly, apparently losing patience. He faced forward and sent the Supra zipping after the Lotus.
Samar held herself stiffly proud until the blue sports car was out of sight, then put a hand to the threshold to steady herself. Fool! Now what was she going to do? Walk there? She didn't even know the way!
She was chewing her lip in thought, eyes fixed on where the two cars had disappeared. There has to be something she can do, some way she can still get there. If only...
Leon's car! The thought struck her, shocking her almost like a live wire. Then she was dashing back into the cabin. Where did Leon put his keys? Oh, please don't let him have taken them along with him!
But she could find them. Last chance, she thought and went to look in what was probably the most obvious place; the ignition.
Well, the keys were indeed in the ignition. But Samar saw the quiet figure behind the wheel first.
"I thought you might need a ride," the laid-back vampire said simply. "Get in."
And, after momentarily hesitation, she did.
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* Comment!
Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and any other names you recognize from the books, 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: 29 November 2003
* Rated for mild violence. See reviews section for author's ramble.
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~ Forty Nine ~
He had thought that if he put some distance between them, his feelings for her would fade with time. He had thought that keeping himself busy with the tasks assigned to him would distract him dwelling on her. He had thought that watching how well they fit together, she and her vampire beaux, would lay his restless longing to rest.
He had been so wrong.
::So Eiran Blake, what are you going to do about it?:: he found himself asking as the plane broke through the clouds and turned in its approach to the airstrip. Prominent Seattle landmarks could be made out from this height, if just barely.
::Just hold on a bit longer,:: his mind supplied, tired-sounding but logical. ::After the task is done, she will leave and you will never see her again. And then you can get on with rebuilding your life.::
::Or...you could try fighting for her?:: Eiran's head lifted sharply. ::Ridiculous!::
::Not so. We all know who treats her better. It's certainly not that self-centered, self-hating vampire.::
::She loves Stefan. Always have, always will. He's the reason she agreed to take on this task. How can I compete with that?::
::He's also the one who got her killed in the first place. You've heard the full story. Are you going to stand by and let him keep causing her hurt after pain? Oh, sure, it's not likely that either of them will get murdered again after this, but you know very well that there are things worse than death.::
The thought of Elena suffering jerked Eiran up short.
::Besides,:: the voice of reason and persuasion continued, ::You know that she does care for you. She's even attracted to you.::
An image of her face, that night he had comforted her in Antalya, flashed vividly in his mind's eye.
::If Stefan had stayed out of the picture a little longer... who know what might have been? And what you both would have shared might be greater than what she has with him.::
And suddenly, other voices, all his own, chimed in.
::All that might be needed is a chance...::
::If you try, you may lose Elena. But then, you will anyway, if you don't try. Then again, if you try, you might win her.::
::What have you got to lose?::
::This is madness!:: he exclaimed inwardly. Nothing of his private struggle shows on the outside, save the hardened intensity of his unseeing gaze out the jet's viewport.
Yet, the seed of thought, once planted, was not so easily killed...
When the plane finally taxied to a halt, it was almost a relief to turn his mind to more practical matters. He rose with the rest of the task force, picking up luggage and heading for the exits. His eyes fell on the still figure seated alone near the back of the passenger compartment.
Eiran reached out and touched Jerrick's sleeve as the latter passed. The witch looked exhausted and with good reason; he had been single-handedly keeping the Old One unconscious - had been the only one who could. The red-haired man looked frailer than ever.
"Jerrick, I'm concerned about Jason," Eiran confided in a low voice.
The other regarded him calmly, then shifted his gaze to where the vampire hunter was slouched in his seat, as if immune to the activity around him.
Jerrick turned back to Eiran. "What is on your mind?"
"He's soured on the mission. That's dangerous. He might...cause trouble," Eiran said vaguely. The sentiment was there, if the explanation was not very concise.
Jerrick appeared to consider this for a moment then nodded once. "Let me go talk to him."
Eiran did not look reassured but accepted that when Jerrick touched his arm in return briefly before moving on. The Turned spared the limping figure and his brooding destination another glance before going about his own tasks - and returning to his own ruminations.
* * *
"May I sit down?"
The fist on the armrest didn't clench, but the muscles of that arm did tighten at the sound of that voice. Jason barely flicked a glance up when Jerrick stopped in the aisle beside him. "If I said no, would you go away?" he asked rhetorically. "Besides, it's your plane."
Which was technically true, since Jerrick had chartered the jet from England. The task force had flown on regular transit from Seattle to New York and then to London on the Concorde and a short hop to Birmingham.
On the return journey, however, with Emson McModrey in custody, commercial flight had not been an option. Jerrick had directed them to a deserted airstrip where the jet waited to take them to Seattle. It was not as fast as the Concorde, but it was more direct and certainly more discreet. No one had argued at the need for stealth.
Still, it had made Jason rethink some basic assumptions he had made of this entire fight against the Old Ones. He had assumed that it had been Crystal financing the effort, with Jerrick supplying the knowledge to effectively combat the immortals.
But the jet had certainly not come from Crystal. Nor the sprawling estate from which the Turned operated now, come to think of it. It had all been arranged smoothly, with no sign of a new benefactor. Was Jerrick financially capable of carrying these operations out, then? He had often mentioned operatives that no one ever saw or heard. It pointed to vast resources.
So, if Jerrick had not allied with Crystal for her money, why had he done so in the first place? The question - and the lack of an answer to it - made Jason acutely uncomfortable. Which did nothing for his temper.
His eyes shifted to rest on the limp, senseless figure who was being lifted by two well-built Turned. Three witches stood nearby, continuously monitoring the unconscious Old One for signs of waking. The last estimate was that he would not wake for another two hours, but they were taking no chances.
Jason turned his eyes away from the activity there, reluctantly looking at the frail-looking, cold-blooded, arrogant son of a bitch in front of him.
"Was there something you wanted?" he asked, bluntly. He would have to get moving soon. Timing, timing...
With Elsa gone, it would be all up to him now.
Jerrick regarded him with deceptive placidity. "To talk."
By now the plane was empty, save the two of them. Jason folded his arms and got to his feet. "There's nothing for us to talk about," he snapped.
"Oh, but I think there is." Something in that calm statement made Jason pause in the act of stalking off. Almost unwillingly, he slanted a look over his shoulder to find Jerrick smiling faintly, eyes trained out the window. "What you have planned is really going to cause a lot of… trouble. For everyone. I would suggest you abandon that idea."
Jason stepped back and leaned down, putting himself intimidatingly close the witch. "And what is it you think I'm planning, Jerrick?" The name came out nastily.
"Hijack the Old One and go running back to Crystal."
Jason stilled. It was the stillness of a predator gathering itself to pounce as it calculated the movement with eyes steady on its prey.
The redhead turned to meet his eyes, unflinching despite the close proximity of their faces. "With Elsa gone, it must be so much harder on you to pull off that agenda, isn't it, Jason?" Jerrick went on, apparently unfazed.
Bringing up the dead huntress sparked the archer's anger anew. "Is that why you didn't mind that she died?" he hissed back before he could stop himself.
"No, of course not." The witch's tone was not exactly gentle, but it was soft, if a little absent. Then it strengthened. "But I do think you should forget about taking the Old One from us. After all, how can it succeed if we know what you already plan?"
Jason felt fury roar up, cold and hot at once, paralyzing him. After a moment, he found his voice. "You're bluffing. No one else knows, otherwise, they would have acted suspicious!" he scoffed.
"Would you take that chance?" Again, unruffled, utter calm. Somehow, it only incited the archer to greater anger. His hand slipped to his side.
"Yes, you bastard. If it will stink up your plans, I'm willing to gamble." Light reflected off the gleaming barrel that appeared between them suddenly. "And to better my odds, let's create a little distraction."
In the quiet of the deserted cabin, the shot sounded shockingly loud.
The witch bent in half in his seat as Jason stepped back, his hand falling to his side. A dark patch began to spread rapidly on the lame man's back.
"You have no idea how good that felt," Jason said in parting. His abrupt departure caused him to miss the sight of Jerrick smiling, through his pain, in satisfaction.
As he strode across the asphalt, three of the Turned were running back to the plane, no doubt having heard the gunshot. He angled himself away from them, heading to the car with the Old One inside it. _They_ were focused only on reaching Jerrick, though one wavered between heading him off and ensuring Jerrick's safety.
Jason reached the Old One unchallenged. Without hesitation, he struck all three attending witches in quick succession. Leaving the crumpled bodies on the ground, unconscious, but breathing, he slid behind the wheel and floored the accelerator.
One handed, he reached for his cell-phone and hit the speed-dial.
"Yes," the velvet voice on the other end answered on the first ring.
"Got him. Be prepared for fire," he said tersely.
There was a pause. "Right. Backup waiting for you as planned. I'll put them on alert."
He hung up with a curt sound of acknowledgement.
A glance in the rear view mirror showed the rest of the task force scrambling to give chase. So the witch had been bluffing, after all.
The archer glanced at the empty passenger seat beside him, where Elsa should have been. Another look in the rear view showed the Old One, still senseless and swaying helplessly with the car's motion.
After that, he focused his attention on the road and on staying ahead of the cavalcade on his tail.
Finally, the designated intersection loomed ahead. Jason barely tapped the brake pedal as he rounded the corner and gunned for the rendezvous point.
They were waiting there for him. As soon as he passed them, four cars drove off the shoulder of the all-but-deserted street, effectively blocking the cars that were bearing down on him.
Jason didn't hesitate: he kept right on going, though he eased the car back into speed limit once he had put some distance between himself and the impromptu roadblock.
They knew where he was going, so he had to choose a careful route back and still keep from being ambushed at the entrance to the Baron place.
Fortunately, the driveway was clear and he was admitted with alacrity. As he pulled up in front of the mansion, the front door opened. He tensed.
"Jason?" the petite figure in the doorway called disbelieving. Taura's brow furrowed and she stepped up to the car as he got out. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea of what's going on? Where's Elsa?" she asked, rapid fire.
She noticed the other figure in the car then, and stopped.
"Either help me or shut up and go away," he replied shortly, flinging open the backdoor and reaching for the Old One.
"What's going on?" Taura asked again but she did step forward to lend a hand. "Crystal's suddenly called the lieutenants for a meeting - in the basement." Unfortunately, her height proved a disadvantage and he had to manage on his own.
"Basement, huh?" Jason muttered, half grunting as he kicked the car door shut and hauled the inert body of the red-haired man into the hallway. Emson McModrey was as tall as Jason himself and of broader build. He didn't know how much longer before the Old One woke up and he intended to work as quickly as possible to avoid taking any chances.
He didn't answer her question of where Elsa was, though it burned in his mind.
Incongruously, Crystal had gathered the hunters around the indoor pool. She herself was lounging carelessly in the Jacuzzi, which was built into a raised platform.
Vivid green eyes rested appraisingly on him as he appeared in the room and heads turned to follow her stare. A hush fell over the gathering.
"Where is Elsa?" the vampire leader broke the silence.
That damned question again. "She's dead," he answered flatly, his hammered tone doing nothing to hide his fury. He thought he heard Taura draw a sharp breath behind him. The stillness grew profound.
"I trust it was worth it?" Crystal asked.
Jason's lips twisted and he stepped further into the room. A path cleared for him wordlessly. The archer dropped the limp body in front of the Jacuzzi.
"An Old One," he said shortly, with a graceless wave of a hand.
She leaned over the edge of the platform to peer down at the man on the floor, then sat back with a touch of satisfaction. She glanced to the side, signal enough that a pair of hunters came forward, lifted the Old One onto a chair and shackled him in place. They then picked up the chained immortal and proceeded to position place him in the middle of the indoor pool.
Jason turned away from the sight to notice an unfamiliar man standing at the base of the steps leading to the Jacuzzi. The cut of his grey-green suit looked faintly military.
"This is Austin," Crystal said, noting his attention. Jason looked up to catch her cat-like smile. "He's a witch of some repute, I've been told." She turned her attention back to the Old One, a slight frown touching her features.
"He hasn't woken up. Is he knocked out so badly?" she asked.
"Nope. He's under a spell."
"Ah. Well, then, Austin, would you..." Crystal trailed off and her pet witch looked at her attentively. "No, on second thought, let's see for ourselves what an _Old One_ is like. Mac," she nodded and a hunter with flax-like hair stepped forward. She simply tipped her chin towards the Old One and the young man half-bowed. Stripping off his t-shirt, he waded to the middle of the pool in boxers.
He held a bamboo blade in one hand.
* * *
It would be over soon.
Elena idly twirled a lock of hair around a finger as she stared out the window. The rest of her golden mane spilled down her back, almost touching the seat of her chair.
Jerrick would be returning soon with the fifth Old One. It will not take long to deal with the last two. By the Winter Solstice, it will be done and she will be free.
A stir at the entrance drew her attention.
"I guess I've got to get used to being only human again," a voice came, wry and clear. A new Turned, Bernard, came into view with an irate healer in attendance. The ex-vampire's left arm rested in a sling. A second Turned hovered nearby, painfully apologetic.
"Oh, I'll be fine, Macey. That'll teach me to block with my bare hand," Bernard flashed a smile at the concerned faces, then he caught sight of Elena and his expression canted from jovial to respectful.
Elena inclined her head in acknowledgement. The once-queen of Robert E. Lee could still put on royal airs, it seemed, she thought with amusement. A small gesture beckoned him over to her. When he got within reach, she laid a hand lightly on the cast-clad arm. For just a moment, she had the disorienting urge to heal it. But then, she didn't have that ability anymore.
"Take better care of yourself, Bernard," she admonished, lightly but meaningfully, as she took her hand away.
"Yes, ma'am!" To his credit, he didn't try and salute before he wandered off.
Elena watched him go then looked up with a smile as Stefan took the seat beside hers.
"What were you thinking that made you look so serious a moment ago?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Bernard, getting hurt like that," she said truthfully. Stefan waited for her to elaborate and finally, she sighed. "The downsides of being a human; we're frail compared to vampires."
"If you're thinking to try and dissuade me, Elena, don't bother. I was human once upon a time and, as I recall, it wasn't all that hazardous an undertaking," Stefan remarked dryly. He took her hand and squeezed reassuringly.
She tried to smile but worry still lingered in her eyes. He leaned in to brush a kiss on her temple. "Trust me and my strength of will. All will be well," he murmured. The warmth of his breath made her shiver and she turned her face to his-
"Elena!"
They jerked apart and Elena momentarily wanted to strangle whoever it was who had interrupted them. Suffocating someone would be a useful diversion to keep people from noticing her flaming face.
"Elena, Jerrick's back and... he's hurt!"
The blonde surged out of her chair in instinctive alarm, then her eyes narrowed and she calmed to grim purpose. Brisk but not hurried, she went to meet the returning party, guided by the sound of frantic activity.
People made way for her until she found herself in front of Jerrick. Eiran stood supporting him at one shoulder and nodded to him briefly, aware of Stefan's presence at her own side. Then cold lapis eyes went to the crusted bloodstain covering a good part of the redhead's abdomen.
Jerrick did look genuinely in pain and Madelene bustled to his side a moment later. While the healer worked, Elena spoke, "What happened?"
"The Old One killed Elsa. Jason was...understandably upset. We don't know the details, but Jerrick tried to talk to him when we landed here. We heard a gunshot and found Jerrick..." He waved a hand briefly to indicate that they could see for themselves.
Elena eyed Jerrick ironically. "Shot you, did he? You deserved it, no doubt," she commented acidly.
Pale blue eyes opened and regarded her, semi-clouded with pain but every bit as sardonic as hers. "No doubt," he agreed weakly, then quieted as Maddy made an annoyed sound at them both.
"Elena, that's not all."
Eiran's grim tone jerked her attention back to him.
"Jason took the Old One. He's taking him back to Crystal," the Turned said bluntly.
No longer sarcastic, Elena caught her breath and then let it out, hissing between her teeth. "Get the Turned ready; we're going over there. Work with the witches to get the vampires moved," she issued the orders. Eiran nodded readily and a young witch moved to take his place holding Jerrick up.
"Maddy, how much longer do you need?" Her eyes rested, unfriendly, on Jerrick. His lips curled in a barely perceptible smile.
"Not long. Ten minutes," was the brief reply.
Elena jerked her chin in assent. "Stefan, call the others." She lanced a look at him, sharp with irony. "They were promised a fight and now they're going to get one."
She took in the faces of the gathered, grim and eager, purposeful and fearful. They looked back at her, for hope, instruction, courage.
"Let's go," she said simply.
* * *
The four vampires were hit with the force of Stefan's mental summons at the same time.
The urgency in that telepathy could not be denied and even Samar, lounging sulkily in her room, sat up. ::What?:: was the babble of response from all four, mingled with alertness, the sharpening of a hunter's senses.
::The Old One's been taken to the hunters' place.::
::What the hell?:: This from Tristan, who was apparently getting excitable. Bad enough that they hadn't been send to England and the two hunters had. Now they had the _Old One_? ::How did that lame fool Jerrick let that happen?::
::No time. Just move. Elena and I will meet you there.:: And then Stefan cut them off, seeming to go blank.
Outside her door, Samar heard quick steps as the others headed for the garage. She was off her bed a moment later, pulling her bulky sweater over her head in favor of a sleek black spandex top with silky sleeves that covered her arms to mid-forearm. Denims would do, she decided, stuffing her feet into runners.
The sound of engines roaring to life heralded her arrival in the corridor. No way, she breathed to herself, freezing momentarily. They are _not_ leaving me behind now!
She burst out the front door just in time to see the pale streak that was the Lotus speeding past her.
::Tristan!:: she screamed after him.
::I mean it, Samar. Not a finger or toe,:: he sent back. ::Besides, you ought to stay out of this. It's going to be dangerous.::
::That's the _point_!:: she shouted back in frustration. He didn't reply.
She was standing there, fist clenched till her nails bit into the flesh of her palms, gritting her teeth and incoherent with anger when a smooth, purring announced the approach of the Supra. The window on the passenger side slid down and Samar could see Makoe looking at her.
Meeting his eyes, her breath caught and she clamped her jaw tight, refusing to look away. Get in the car with him? She'd rather die first. But then, if she didn't, she would be left behind. That thought swayed her and she bit her lip in indecision.
A few moments passed with neither of them moving, and only the subliminal purr of the Supra's engine between them. Then Makoe shrugged faintly, apparently losing patience. He faced forward and sent the Supra zipping after the Lotus.
Samar held herself stiffly proud until the blue sports car was out of sight, then put a hand to the threshold to steady herself. Fool! Now what was she going to do? Walk there? She didn't even know the way!
She was chewing her lip in thought, eyes fixed on where the two cars had disappeared. There has to be something she can do, some way she can still get there. If only...
Leon's car! The thought struck her, shocking her almost like a live wire. Then she was dashing back into the cabin. Where did Leon put his keys? Oh, please don't let him have taken them along with him!
But she could find them. Last chance, she thought and went to look in what was probably the most obvious place; the ignition.
Well, the keys were indeed in the ignition. But Samar saw the quiet figure behind the wheel first.
"I thought you might need a ride," the laid-back vampire said simply. "Get in."
And, after momentarily hesitation, she did.
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