Summary: Elena takes on the Old Ones, risking all to gain a life for herself and Stefan.
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: 8 January 2004
* Happy New Year, all! This is being posted without benefit of edits or beta reading beside my own. Comments and critique most welcome. If you'd like a closer look at the trials and joys of writing Leaf, I usually gabble about it on my LiveJournal http://www.livejournal.com/users/leian. To avoid confusion, this chapter begins a bit back in the timeline, overlapping with the events from the previous chapter.
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~ Fifty One ~
They gave Maddy a chance to patch Jerrick up, if just barely, and get him into a clean shirt, and then they set off. The rest of the combat witches and Turned had gone on ahead. Stefan had to hunt for a spot to put the Porsche amid the other cars already littering the Barons' tree-lined private road when they got there.
He noted Makoe's and Tristan's cars as they made their way up the driveway at as quick a pace as Jerrick could manage.
The signs of fighting increased the closer they got to the mansion; broken branches, charred trees and –
The forest green eyes moved on quickly. He could almost hear his brother's derisive laughter in his head. Death – unpleasant death – should be nothing new to you, little brother. You're supposed to be a vampire after all.
Stefan set his jaw grimly and thought back to the phantom voice, Not for long.
Glancing aside, he saw Jerrick staring at the trees with an oddly suffused expression on his face. The sounds of fighting grew and Stefan turned his attention elsewhere, his guard rising. Elena, beside him, seemed serene and a bit distracted. Stefan cast her a quick, worried look.
Dotting the emerald lawn, hunters faced Turned or battled with witches. Gunshots rang out. Blades caught the late afternoon sunlight. Tall wooden spears swung with deadly intent and once in a while, witch power flared. The hunters were doing everything they could to deny the invaders entry into their stronghold. The Turned were faring better than they would have not too long ago, but the hunters still had the advantage of skill.
But where were the vampires? Forest green eyes swept the scene before him. A sharp, enraged cry pierced the air just as he found them.
They stood on a slight incline, battling in earnest. He touched Elena's arm to catch her attention, then started towards the pair, not particularly sure what he would do when he reached them.
Makoe stood, cold and relaxed, matching Taura's stalking stride with ease. The petite huntress held her knife at an aggressive angle and she fairly bristled with hostility. She favored her left hand and blood dripped from her empty fingers.
Stefan stopped, hearing Elena come up behind him. "Will he kill her this time?" she asked softly.
::If I'd wanted her dead, do you think she'd still be standing?::
Makoe's words sounded in Stefan's head, faintly derisive, but he gave no outward sign of the communication, steady eyes never leaving his opponent, no muscle moving to change his expression.
Stefan shook his head to answer Elena; no.
But Taura caught sight of them and got distracted. She opened her mouth to speak but that was as far as she got.
They never saw Makoe move.
Suddenly, Taura was on the ground, her chin jerked back with the vampire's forearm pressed to her windpipe. Makoe's other hand squeezed Taura's right wrist until her blade fell from pain-numbed fingers.
When she twisted her head backwards to look at them, her eyes were furious but there was no fear in them, only desperate urgency. "Elena, Crystal—" she gasped, completely ignoring Makoe and the threat he posed to her.
The vampire suddenly relaxed his hold enough for her to breathe. Stefan saw her eyes roll up in unguarded surprise before she caught herself and refocused on Elena.
"Crystal's gone _mad_. She's got the Old One and they're torturing him—"
"_Torturing_ him?" Elena repeated, disbelieving. Stefan was just as stunned, partly for the hunters' folly but more because they had been _allowed_ to take such liberties with the Old One.
"Yes. He was unconscious and they couldn't wake him up—"
The world exploded with sound. Stefan flinched and cried out as the sudden cacophony assaulted his vampiric hearing. He clutched his head in pain, but still felt the force of it vibrating through his body.
As suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
It took him a few moments to recover before he straightened, looking about. The cause was obvious; the mansion on the top of the slope looked as if it had been gutted and then set ablaze. Flames licked out the windows and smoke escaped through gaping holes in the roof.
Everyone seemed to freeze, staring in horror and shock. Could anyone in the house have survived? Even as they watched, dust continued to waft out in a cloud and mortar started to crumble away from the building.
Scrambled movement behind him and a barely audible hiss; Stefan whirled to see Makoe facing Taura sardonically, his right hand holding his elbow. The dark vampire was pale; he must have been as incapacitated by the din as Stefan had been. Taura had evidently snatched the chance to break away from him. She was crouched with her knife in right hand.
Stefan saw a single rivulet of red run through Makoe's fingers where it pressed to the join in his arm.
"Come, Elena."
Jerrick arrived and gestured for the blonde after him as he turned to the mansion. He did not even spare the fighters a glance and Stefan knew, in a flash of insight, how Jason must have felt on seeing Elsa die unmourned.
Then the spurt of anger slipped away, leaving the Italian vampire torn; his place was with Elena, but he didn't want to leave Makoe and Taura battling it out. On the other hand, Makoe could certainly take care of himself. And he'd already said he didn't intend to kill the huntress...
Stefan half-pivoted, hesitated.
"Stay here, Stefan. We will come to you later," Jerrick told him calmly without needing to look.
Stefan shot Elena a questioning look; she nodded. She had slipped back into her earlier abstraction, but there was a grimness about her as well. He felt a stab of fear/regret, but acknowledged the silent signal and watched them go.
The combined shock of the house exploding and seeing Jerrick and Elena appear seemed to take the fight out of the hunters who recognized them while the invaders took advantage of their opponents' flagging spirits.
One figure caught Stefan's attention; a lean, lanky man who moved with barely leashed energy. Even from a distance, the manic grin was visible – and recognizable.
Stefan watched Tristan dispatch two hunters, then whirled to face another three that were closing on him. They rushed him at once, hoping to negate his advantage of speed and strength with sheer numbers.
Tristan wasn't daunted. Stefan watched in amazement as he kicked in one direction, catching one hunter in the stomach, swung his hand another way to knock down a second hunter and then pluck the third hunter's knife to impale the unfortunate individual with it. Unencumbered again, Stefan watched in amazement as Tristan looked around for a new opponent and ran to join the nearest fight.
He inadvertently came to the aid of the Turned who was struggling to hold his own against a skilled hunter, but that was incidental and secondary; Tristan merely wanted the hunter for himself.
The process repeated itself.
Stefan knew guns were Tristan's weapon of choice, but the tall vampire never pulled it out except to dispatch a troublesome sniper hiding in the trees. Otherwise, Tristan fought with a breezy lack of concern for style or finesse, doing whatever it took to win. Much like Samar, Stefan reflected idly.
But Tristan got regularly beaten up by Samar; how is he fighting so well now?
::He fights dirty, and he needs the battle rush to spur him on,:: came the calm explanation.
Stefan glanced at Makoe, still locked in a standoff against Taura, then back at Tristan. The excitable vampire actually laughed in delight as he spotted another group of hunters heading his way. ::He's mad.::
::Quite possibly. But at least he's good at it,:: was the unruffled response.
When Stefan looked back, Taura was still favouring her left hand but Makoe no longer supported his left elbow and stood normally again. The huntress feinted and Makoe caught her wrist and yanked hard. They did a rapid change of place, disengaged and spun to face each other again, silent, intent only on each other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan caught movement: Leon and Samar. Stefan frowned. They had come from the direction of the entrance. Where have they been?
They made their way towards the hillock. Samar pulled ahead, running full out and leaving Leon behind. She checked in mid-step, threw a look over her shoulder and slowed to a stalking stride.
"What's going on?" she asked when she got within earshot. She caught sight of Makoe and Taura and shot them a look. A bit of a sneer twisted her lips. "Where's Tristan?"
Stefan indicated the spot on the lawn where Tristan had been, but he was gone. "Somewhere," he said vaguely.
As Samar scanned the field, Stefan glanced at Leon. There was something different about phlegmatic vampire but Stefan couldn't put his finger on it. A lack of tension, but there was a greater liveliness at the same time. Perhaps it was just anticipation of a fight.
There was another flurry of rapid movement between Makoe and Taura, followed by a muffled thump. Taura was sprawled on the ground, senseless. Stefan took an alarmed step towards her.
"She's just unconscious," Makoe told him curtly, stepping past the fallen body and over to the other vampires. "Now that we're all here, let's go."
"Go?"
A jerk of the head in the direction of the mansion was all Stefan got for an answer and the dark vampire stalked forward.
Without warning, Samar let out an ear-splitting yell. Stefan felt something whistle through the air above his head, saw Samar lunge for Makoe––
Then there was a sickening thud as the crossbow bolt hit her unprotected back, burying itself between her shoulder blades.
She screamed.
Stefan froze. Leon reacted quicker, shouting as he ran forward to catch the falling girl. He went down on his knees, cradling her tenderly but awkwardly to his chest, carefully to avoid touching the bolt. Samar was gasping in pain, visibly holding back more cries.
Makoe–
Makoe had disappeared. After a moment, there was a crash behind them and a hunter fell out of the trees and hit the ground with an audible sound. Silent, a dark shadow landed beside him, hauled him up by the front of his shirt and threw him violently against the tree-trunk.
The vampire was shorter than the hunter, but the former effortlessly pinned the human to the tree with his feet dangling. The hunter tried to lash out with a foot.
Makoe snarled, fangs flashing white and feral.
Stefan felt a mental blast lance from the dark vampire's mind and the hunter cried out again and went limp.
The vampire kept his grip for another frozen moment, then jerked the hunter forward and threw him twenty paces to lie on the grass beside Samar. Leon raised his head slowly; he was as white as a sheet. He stayed blank with horror for another beat. Then his eyes fastened on Makoe and fury, jealousy and desperate fear chased each other across his face.
Makoe walked over and held up the hunter's crossbow. Staring down at the dazed human, he broke the weapon in half and tossed it aside. He addressed the injured vampire girl curtly, without looking at her. "Feed." His expression was stony and his tone flat.
Samar turned her head and bared her teeth – fangs – at him, but it was a silent grimace of pain, not an expression of hunger or acquiescence.
"You need the Power," Makoe told her in the same tone. "And this one," he caught the hunter's chin in his heel, nearly snapping his neck with the force of the kick, "Surely deserves to die."
Samar looked ready to fight for the sake of fighting. She glared, then pointedly ignored him. "Leon," she said lowly. The thin vampire pulled back enough to look at her. "Get that thing out of my back," she said, biting each word through clenched teeth with an effort not to scream.
Stefan saw Leon tense but he kept his voice calm. "You'll bleed to death." The last word hung heavy in the air after he had said it.
"The wood is killing me as surely," she snapped, voice skimming the edge of desperation. "And the bolt-head was tipped with something. It burns." She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips then.
When Leon hesitated, Makoe stepped up behind Samar abruptly and yanked out the protruding projectile. Samar, unprepared, threw back her head and screamed again, twice as anguished as before.
The scream freed Stefan from his paralysis. He staggered one step forward. It took an effort of will to keep his every action deliberate, controlled. He ripped his sleeve off – his father-the-count would have had an apoplexy – and bundled it to use as a compress against the wound.
He helped a trembling, distraught Leon support Samar. Looking down at the clammy, pale face and into the pain-bright hazel eyes, Stefan realized how unreal the situation felt. Samar could not be mortally wounded. The wound was serious, yes, but it could not be bad enough to kill her, surely. Samar die? Impossible. Stefan recognized that he was in shock, irrational.
Not half as irrational as Tristan was when he arrived.
"_Samar!_" he roared, madness and fury in his voice as he raced towards them. He was bloodied from the fight. Most of the blood wasn't his own, Stefan knew. A small part of him realized how irrelevant that thought was.
The hyperactive vampire all but shouldered him aside, almost dancing in panic. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded.
No one answered him when Makoe bent to grip the hunter by the hair on the crown and jerked his head back. "Drink," he snapped.
Samar glared at him with what came very close to virulent hatred. "It won't do any good."
"Yes, it will." Makoe hauled the vampire as if he were nothing more than a rag doll and thrust him over Samar's semi-prone form. With his free hand, he all but ripped the human's throat out. Bright blood dripped onto Samar's face. "Drink."
Stefan was sickened, but not as much as he had expected to be. He shared a bit of the grimness the others apparently felt. He was part of the hunt and they part of him.
So when Samar moved to sit up, grasping the hunter's shoulders, Stefan lifted her, held her up, helped her.
When she was done, Makoe and Tristan dragged the limp, cooling body away. Samar leaned back against Leon who cradled her with pain-staking care. Worry etching deep lines into his face.
They were silent, watching her with varying degrees of anxiety. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was easier, but she was wan and her body was unnaturally still, lacking the vibrant energy that was so much a part of her.
Tense minutes ticked by. Eventually, Samar sighed and opened her eyes. She looked at Makoe first. The dark vampire was silent and as expressionless as ever. If he felt any guilt, any remorse, that she had been injured protecting him, he gave no sign. Samar's lips twisted briefly but she didn't say anything.
She turned her attention to Tristan. Her brother was speechless, the uncharacteristic manner underscoring the severity of the situation. He stiffened like a drawn bow when their eyes met. He met her eyes for a second, then spun and stalked away to the nearest tree. There, he unleashed his pent up emotions in silent, physical fury.
Samar's hazel eyes went to Leon next, and her hand lifted to brush over his face. Tears, Stefan realized. Leon was weeping. "Just when we started, hm?" she murmured cryptically. Leon's eyes squeezed tightly shut and Stefan felt a pang of sympathy, having guessed how Leon felt about the vampire girl.
From her words, it would seem that Samar knew as well.
Fingers in Leon's hair, she finally looked at Stefan, and now the farewell – the resigned finality – in her eyes, was clear. The Italian vampire had the uncanny feeling of déjà vu, recalling how he had held Elena as she slipped away from him, that terrible day after she had defeated Katherine...
Stefan's head came up just as Tristan burst out finally, unable to stand it, "There has to be _something_ that can be done!".
"There is," he breathed. Tristan, fist still planted against the tree-trunk, twisted to look at him. So did the other vampires. "What?"
Samar was staring at him, Makoe watching coldly, Leon looking as if he dared not hope.
"There may be a way—" Stefan began a bit cautiously. "Elena—" He broke off as a bright figure exiting the smoking mansion caught his attention.
The pale white glow surrounding Elena was visible in the gold of the evening's rays. She faced the house, head tilted back. Nothing happened at first. Then clouds started to gather and darken the sky.
Rain fell, hissing, on the burning mansion. The vampires could feel the cool wind and smell the damp and the ozone before the fine drizzle reached them. Leon murmured something in wonder.
Leaving the building behind, Elena made her way to where the two-score vampires had gathered, waiting for her. Stefan saw Jerrick limping along after her.
He heard someone's breath catch; he thought it was Samar's. They all watched her with the intensity of predators. She didn't do anything, but then the first of the vampires began to fall. In ones and twos, the vampires collapsed and lay still. Stefan could sense, ever so faintly, the way the auras of each faded.
"Elena can Turn Samar. And save her," Stefan explained softly. "It may be the only way."
Tristan, of course, exploded. He came storming back to stand over Stefan with murder in his eyes. "Ridiculous. No sister of mine is going to be made human!"
"Would you rather she die instead?" Stefan challenged flatly. If earlier he had been in denial, now his mind was clinical and devoid of emotion. It was, he thought, a different kind of shock.
Tristan stopped short but the stubborn look on his face didn't change. He looked at Samar, seeking support. But Samar had her head angled to watch Elena. When the last vampire lay prone, the glowing figure glided over to them.
"She's coming for me," Stefan reminded them, tight-voiced, when Tristan looked ready to fight. "And she doesn't change the unwilling."
His eyes shifted to Samar resting doll-like in Leon's arms. "You can get someone to change you back into a vampire later," Stefan added compassionately. It could not be easy having such a decision forced on her suddenly and out of desperate need.
"We don't _know_ what happens if one of the Turned is changed back into a vampire!" Tristan protested. Stefan wondered if the arguments were a knee-jerk reaction, a way of dealing with the stress of the situation.
Then Elena was there. The glow, the expression in her face and eyes... She looked ethereal, otherworldly. Fey.
She didn't seem to see Stefan, stopping to stand beside Leon. "Samar. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked simply.
Stefan heard Samar's breath roughen as she battled out this decision. Leon slowly took her hand. "I'll be right behind you," he said, quietly reassuring.
Hazel eyes lifted and locked with forest green. Stefan tried to imagine how she felt at this moment, tried to understand what she might need. He gave her a look of calm understanding, but otherwise remained neutral, letting her take the time she needed to decide on her own.
At last, she pursed her lips and blinked slowly once, reminiscent of nodding. Her fingers in Leon's his hand a light squeeze. "No, don't. Wait a bit; I might not be Turned for long," she told him.
The mild vampire looked at her and it was she who gave him the reassuring smile. Drawing a deep breath carefully enough to avoid gasping in pain, Samar addressed Elena. "Yes. Yes, there is. Turn me."
"Are you sure?"
Samar braced herself. "Yes.
"Very well then." Elena didn't give her any time to reconsider. Power unfurled and coiled around Samar.
Stefan could almost feel the thrum and singing of raw Power. He felt her tense, then go lax. Her breathing evened out, then slowed and finally stopped. He found Leon's eyes clinging to him and nodded in reassurance. "That's supposed to happen."
The Italian vampire rose and stepped away. Tristan moved to take his place, crouching beside his sister.
Stefan walked to stand beside Elena and calmed his mind. His own transformation was suddenly upon him and he needed to prepare himself for it.
::Good hunting.::
Stefan slid Makoe a look for that incongruous wish, but took it in the spirit it was meant. ::Thank you.::
Then Elena faced him and all other thoughts disappeared. Stefan stared into her deep blue eyes, searching for a hint of the woman within the vessel of Power. ::Elena.::
He thought he saw a flicker of recognition amid the abstraction.
::I will not be able to do this anymore, not in this way. But for one last time, I wanted to tell you in a way you cannot doubt, in a way you can only feel, how much I love you.::
::Stefan...::
His eyes widened in shock and delight, hearing her own mental voice in his head.
And suddenly, he found himself looking at Elena, not the instrument of Nature but the girl he who meant more to him than life itself.
The white glow was gone, but he didn't noticed; love shone in her eyes and there was nothing distant or fey about them.
They closed the distance between them and the contact brought strength, comfort.
::I love you, too.::
Stefan held her tight, basking in the pure, clear emotion that flowed through those words. He suddenly felt the urgency to say a thousand things to her while they could share it mind to mind like this, but no words formed in his mind, only feelings. Some, he shared with her – anticipation, hope, eagerness, need. Others he carefully kept hidden – fear, uncertainty, regret-tinted nostalgia.
From her, he received love, answering need, echoed anticipation and a fierce protectiveness. How long they stood there, in wordless and intertwined communion, Stefan didn't know, but finally he roused to rest his lips on her temple.
::I'm ready,:: he told her softly.
Stefan felt her gather herself. Then, warmth spreading from her to him, enfolding him.
So this is what it's like, he thought. And in the back of his mind was the chant, Change. I want to be human again.
Odd images rose in his mind. Flashes of moments in the past five hundred years, things he had not thought about in decades and more. The pictures came faster, spinning dizzily out of control. They began to merge into a featureless blur, only a remembered scent, a snatched fragment of sound, brought back memories.
He felt Elena's mind touch his again, just as he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * *
Eiran watched her.
She sat on the damp grass beside Stefan's body with one of his hands nestled in hers. They were both so still, they could have been a single statue. Bright hair fell around her bent head, obscuring her face. He wondered what thoughts occupied her mind.
The instrument of Nature, the shining figure so removed from human cares, was gone. Now he saw only a young woman sitting anxious vigil over her beloved.
A second figure lay nearby; the vampire girl. She had her own attendees – her brother and the thin vampire. The cold-eyed vampire stood a little apart, one shoulder propped against a tree. Eiran had the odd sense that he was watching over all of them.
::Eiran.::
Eiran was abruptly aware of his surroundings again, his focus expanding beyond the little circle around Elena. The ex-vampire swiveled his head to meet Jerrick's gaze where he sat quietly on a blanket spread on the ground.
The rain had tapered off, leaving everything with a sheen in the twilight. Lamps and candles dotted the lawn. Inside the ruined mansion, the powerful beams from heavy-duty hand lights swiveled as some hunters and witches looked for survivors or retrieved valuables.
The news of Crystal's demise had hit the hunters hard, thrown them into disarray. Heated words had been exchanged between the dominants, who stormed off with their respective supporters. No clear leadership had emerged.
In the space of an hour, Crystal Baron's great hunter army broke up into small bands, diminishing in size and, more, in might.
The fractious ones had departed after an 'interview' with Jerrick. Eiran didn't know what it was the witch had said – or done – but the Turned and the witches had not been forcibly ousted from the Baron place. The hunters that remained now, incredibly, took direction from the red-headed witch. Eiran recognized them as those who had known and worked with Jerrick before Elena's arrival.
Just then, Taura stuck her head out a second-storey window of the mansion then and called something down to another of the hunters who replied. The petite huntress let out a frustrated yell, then ducked back inside.
Further along the treeline, a mixed group of Turned and witches had settled to wait in a small cluster, having made the new-Turned as comfortable as they could.
Jerrick lifted a hand and beckoned.
Eiran crossed the distance separating them, feeling his expression close to neutrality. He waited for Jerrick to speak, taking a patient stance beside him. The witch didn't keep him waiting for long.
"This is going to take a while," came the cryptic murmur. The pale blue eyes were focused on the little hillock where Elena was.
Eiran kept quiet.
"I want you to leave tomorrow."
He froze. "So soon?" he blurted then paused. And why not? a voice asked him logically. What was the point of waiting?
Except, he realized with a start, that he had wanted to spend some time with Elena before leaving on the next task Jerrick set for him. That realization made him uncomfortable even as conscious recognition of it increased its intensity.
Now Jerrick jerked about to look at him. "Emson McModrey managed to send out a message before he was unmade. I was too weak to block him." The frail fist clenched where it rested on one knee. Jerrick's voice remained low but what it lacked in volume was more than compensated in intensity. "His remaining brethren _know_, Eiran. The next one will be on his guard. It will make it so much more difficult to catch him. We have no time to waste. We _cannot_ let him thwart us like that. We are _so close_" The last came out almost hissed.
Eiran tensed, feeling fear shoot up his spine like an icy blast. It was perhaps the first time he had seen Jerrick show such strong emotion. Knowing full well how powerful Jerrick was, knowing just what he was capable of, Eiran was justified in his dread.
His first thought was to worry for Elena and her continued defiance of this man.
Jerrick was silent, appearing to compose himself. When he spoke next, he was once again the frail witch who guided with wisdom and a mild word.
"Eiran, I think I can manage things here with the other witches' help. Gather your people and return to the lodge. Make whatever preparations you will need. Rest. In the morning, I will confer with you and you will lead them out and bring me back the sixth Old One."
The ex-vampire took a breath to calm himself and give himself a moment to shake off his lingering visceral fear.
Tomorrow. Elena would not leave Stefan's side this night, even if he awoke in the next few hours. Eiran would not have the chance to speak to her at all.
Jerrick turned his eyes away from Elena and caught Eiran's gaze. "We're close now. She's almost free."
Free. The sooner they defeat all the Old Ones, the sooner Elena would be released from her promise and immortality. With Stefan now Turned, there would be nothing standing in their way once she completed her task.
Some of Eiran's resistance to leaving so soon melted in the face of that thought. His throat clenched as he walked away. He signaled one of the Turned who was part of the strike force and conveyed Jerrick's message. As the man ran to gather the rest of the strike force, Eiran made his way to Elena.
He called her name softly when he was in earshot. The two other vampires near the unconscious girl looked up, as did she. Makoe, who had watched him approach, continued to look at him in silence.
"Eiran," Elena acknowledged just as quietly, as if afraid to disturb Stefan or the vampire girl. She lifted a hand in tacit invitation for him to come closer.
He did, crouching on one knee beside her. His eyes went to Stefan's face. "How goes it?" he asked. Could she track the vampire as he or she Turned? The vampires had gone back to keeping watch over the girl, ignoring him.
Elena still held one of Stefan's hands in hers. "Well enough. It will be some time yet before we'll know for sure. But not too long." She sounded serene, confident; if there was worry there, it was well-hidden.
Eiran could only nod. He hesitated. "I will be leaving in the morning to track the next Old One."
Her head moved a little and her face lifted in a listening pose.
"Jerrick said the other Old Ones have been warned. We need to move quickly," he explained.
Elena was silent for a long moment. "I can understand his urgency," she said at last. Her tone surprised Eiran, holding none of the edge that usually emerged when she spoke of Jerrick. "Is he going with you?"
"Not that I know of, milady." He earned a quick, reproving look for slipping into that old form of address and flashed a small, unrepentant smile. The look reminded him of how anger could sharpen a woman's beauty.
"Am _I_ supposed to go with you?"
He shook his head.
"He can't mean to capture the Old One, then, without either of us with you," she mused, frowning. "That would mean he hasn't located the Old One yet." Her frown deepened. "I'd have thought he would be watching all of them by now," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He watched her eyes travel to rest on Jerrick and then narrow. Finally, she looked back at him and her expression softened, giving him a pang.
"Thank you for telling me, Eiran. Be safe," she said.
He bent his head in a combination of a nod and a bow and rose. She turned back to her Stefan before he had take two steps. Back to her, eyes on the ground, he walked away.
"And you, lady," he whispered, then raised his arm and voice to call the other members of his team.
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: 8 January 2004
* Happy New Year, all! This is being posted without benefit of edits or beta reading beside my own. Comments and critique most welcome. If you'd like a closer look at the trials and joys of writing Leaf, I usually gabble about it on my LiveJournal http://www.livejournal.com/users/leian. To avoid confusion, this chapter begins a bit back in the timeline, overlapping with the events from the previous chapter.
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~ Fifty One ~
They gave Maddy a chance to patch Jerrick up, if just barely, and get him into a clean shirt, and then they set off. The rest of the combat witches and Turned had gone on ahead. Stefan had to hunt for a spot to put the Porsche amid the other cars already littering the Barons' tree-lined private road when they got there.
He noted Makoe's and Tristan's cars as they made their way up the driveway at as quick a pace as Jerrick could manage.
The signs of fighting increased the closer they got to the mansion; broken branches, charred trees and –
The forest green eyes moved on quickly. He could almost hear his brother's derisive laughter in his head. Death – unpleasant death – should be nothing new to you, little brother. You're supposed to be a vampire after all.
Stefan set his jaw grimly and thought back to the phantom voice, Not for long.
Glancing aside, he saw Jerrick staring at the trees with an oddly suffused expression on his face. The sounds of fighting grew and Stefan turned his attention elsewhere, his guard rising. Elena, beside him, seemed serene and a bit distracted. Stefan cast her a quick, worried look.
Dotting the emerald lawn, hunters faced Turned or battled with witches. Gunshots rang out. Blades caught the late afternoon sunlight. Tall wooden spears swung with deadly intent and once in a while, witch power flared. The hunters were doing everything they could to deny the invaders entry into their stronghold. The Turned were faring better than they would have not too long ago, but the hunters still had the advantage of skill.
But where were the vampires? Forest green eyes swept the scene before him. A sharp, enraged cry pierced the air just as he found them.
They stood on a slight incline, battling in earnest. He touched Elena's arm to catch her attention, then started towards the pair, not particularly sure what he would do when he reached them.
Makoe stood, cold and relaxed, matching Taura's stalking stride with ease. The petite huntress held her knife at an aggressive angle and she fairly bristled with hostility. She favored her left hand and blood dripped from her empty fingers.
Stefan stopped, hearing Elena come up behind him. "Will he kill her this time?" she asked softly.
::If I'd wanted her dead, do you think she'd still be standing?::
Makoe's words sounded in Stefan's head, faintly derisive, but he gave no outward sign of the communication, steady eyes never leaving his opponent, no muscle moving to change his expression.
Stefan shook his head to answer Elena; no.
But Taura caught sight of them and got distracted. She opened her mouth to speak but that was as far as she got.
They never saw Makoe move.
Suddenly, Taura was on the ground, her chin jerked back with the vampire's forearm pressed to her windpipe. Makoe's other hand squeezed Taura's right wrist until her blade fell from pain-numbed fingers.
When she twisted her head backwards to look at them, her eyes were furious but there was no fear in them, only desperate urgency. "Elena, Crystal—" she gasped, completely ignoring Makoe and the threat he posed to her.
The vampire suddenly relaxed his hold enough for her to breathe. Stefan saw her eyes roll up in unguarded surprise before she caught herself and refocused on Elena.
"Crystal's gone _mad_. She's got the Old One and they're torturing him—"
"_Torturing_ him?" Elena repeated, disbelieving. Stefan was just as stunned, partly for the hunters' folly but more because they had been _allowed_ to take such liberties with the Old One.
"Yes. He was unconscious and they couldn't wake him up—"
The world exploded with sound. Stefan flinched and cried out as the sudden cacophony assaulted his vampiric hearing. He clutched his head in pain, but still felt the force of it vibrating through his body.
As suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
It took him a few moments to recover before he straightened, looking about. The cause was obvious; the mansion on the top of the slope looked as if it had been gutted and then set ablaze. Flames licked out the windows and smoke escaped through gaping holes in the roof.
Everyone seemed to freeze, staring in horror and shock. Could anyone in the house have survived? Even as they watched, dust continued to waft out in a cloud and mortar started to crumble away from the building.
Scrambled movement behind him and a barely audible hiss; Stefan whirled to see Makoe facing Taura sardonically, his right hand holding his elbow. The dark vampire was pale; he must have been as incapacitated by the din as Stefan had been. Taura had evidently snatched the chance to break away from him. She was crouched with her knife in right hand.
Stefan saw a single rivulet of red run through Makoe's fingers where it pressed to the join in his arm.
"Come, Elena."
Jerrick arrived and gestured for the blonde after him as he turned to the mansion. He did not even spare the fighters a glance and Stefan knew, in a flash of insight, how Jason must have felt on seeing Elsa die unmourned.
Then the spurt of anger slipped away, leaving the Italian vampire torn; his place was with Elena, but he didn't want to leave Makoe and Taura battling it out. On the other hand, Makoe could certainly take care of himself. And he'd already said he didn't intend to kill the huntress...
Stefan half-pivoted, hesitated.
"Stay here, Stefan. We will come to you later," Jerrick told him calmly without needing to look.
Stefan shot Elena a questioning look; she nodded. She had slipped back into her earlier abstraction, but there was a grimness about her as well. He felt a stab of fear/regret, but acknowledged the silent signal and watched them go.
The combined shock of the house exploding and seeing Jerrick and Elena appear seemed to take the fight out of the hunters who recognized them while the invaders took advantage of their opponents' flagging spirits.
One figure caught Stefan's attention; a lean, lanky man who moved with barely leashed energy. Even from a distance, the manic grin was visible – and recognizable.
Stefan watched Tristan dispatch two hunters, then whirled to face another three that were closing on him. They rushed him at once, hoping to negate his advantage of speed and strength with sheer numbers.
Tristan wasn't daunted. Stefan watched in amazement as he kicked in one direction, catching one hunter in the stomach, swung his hand another way to knock down a second hunter and then pluck the third hunter's knife to impale the unfortunate individual with it. Unencumbered again, Stefan watched in amazement as Tristan looked around for a new opponent and ran to join the nearest fight.
He inadvertently came to the aid of the Turned who was struggling to hold his own against a skilled hunter, but that was incidental and secondary; Tristan merely wanted the hunter for himself.
The process repeated itself.
Stefan knew guns were Tristan's weapon of choice, but the tall vampire never pulled it out except to dispatch a troublesome sniper hiding in the trees. Otherwise, Tristan fought with a breezy lack of concern for style or finesse, doing whatever it took to win. Much like Samar, Stefan reflected idly.
But Tristan got regularly beaten up by Samar; how is he fighting so well now?
::He fights dirty, and he needs the battle rush to spur him on,:: came the calm explanation.
Stefan glanced at Makoe, still locked in a standoff against Taura, then back at Tristan. The excitable vampire actually laughed in delight as he spotted another group of hunters heading his way. ::He's mad.::
::Quite possibly. But at least he's good at it,:: was the unruffled response.
When Stefan looked back, Taura was still favouring her left hand but Makoe no longer supported his left elbow and stood normally again. The huntress feinted and Makoe caught her wrist and yanked hard. They did a rapid change of place, disengaged and spun to face each other again, silent, intent only on each other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan caught movement: Leon and Samar. Stefan frowned. They had come from the direction of the entrance. Where have they been?
They made their way towards the hillock. Samar pulled ahead, running full out and leaving Leon behind. She checked in mid-step, threw a look over her shoulder and slowed to a stalking stride.
"What's going on?" she asked when she got within earshot. She caught sight of Makoe and Taura and shot them a look. A bit of a sneer twisted her lips. "Where's Tristan?"
Stefan indicated the spot on the lawn where Tristan had been, but he was gone. "Somewhere," he said vaguely.
As Samar scanned the field, Stefan glanced at Leon. There was something different about phlegmatic vampire but Stefan couldn't put his finger on it. A lack of tension, but there was a greater liveliness at the same time. Perhaps it was just anticipation of a fight.
There was another flurry of rapid movement between Makoe and Taura, followed by a muffled thump. Taura was sprawled on the ground, senseless. Stefan took an alarmed step towards her.
"She's just unconscious," Makoe told him curtly, stepping past the fallen body and over to the other vampires. "Now that we're all here, let's go."
"Go?"
A jerk of the head in the direction of the mansion was all Stefan got for an answer and the dark vampire stalked forward.
Without warning, Samar let out an ear-splitting yell. Stefan felt something whistle through the air above his head, saw Samar lunge for Makoe––
Then there was a sickening thud as the crossbow bolt hit her unprotected back, burying itself between her shoulder blades.
She screamed.
Stefan froze. Leon reacted quicker, shouting as he ran forward to catch the falling girl. He went down on his knees, cradling her tenderly but awkwardly to his chest, carefully to avoid touching the bolt. Samar was gasping in pain, visibly holding back more cries.
Makoe–
Makoe had disappeared. After a moment, there was a crash behind them and a hunter fell out of the trees and hit the ground with an audible sound. Silent, a dark shadow landed beside him, hauled him up by the front of his shirt and threw him violently against the tree-trunk.
The vampire was shorter than the hunter, but the former effortlessly pinned the human to the tree with his feet dangling. The hunter tried to lash out with a foot.
Makoe snarled, fangs flashing white and feral.
Stefan felt a mental blast lance from the dark vampire's mind and the hunter cried out again and went limp.
The vampire kept his grip for another frozen moment, then jerked the hunter forward and threw him twenty paces to lie on the grass beside Samar. Leon raised his head slowly; he was as white as a sheet. He stayed blank with horror for another beat. Then his eyes fastened on Makoe and fury, jealousy and desperate fear chased each other across his face.
Makoe walked over and held up the hunter's crossbow. Staring down at the dazed human, he broke the weapon in half and tossed it aside. He addressed the injured vampire girl curtly, without looking at her. "Feed." His expression was stony and his tone flat.
Samar turned her head and bared her teeth – fangs – at him, but it was a silent grimace of pain, not an expression of hunger or acquiescence.
"You need the Power," Makoe told her in the same tone. "And this one," he caught the hunter's chin in his heel, nearly snapping his neck with the force of the kick, "Surely deserves to die."
Samar looked ready to fight for the sake of fighting. She glared, then pointedly ignored him. "Leon," she said lowly. The thin vampire pulled back enough to look at her. "Get that thing out of my back," she said, biting each word through clenched teeth with an effort not to scream.
Stefan saw Leon tense but he kept his voice calm. "You'll bleed to death." The last word hung heavy in the air after he had said it.
"The wood is killing me as surely," she snapped, voice skimming the edge of desperation. "And the bolt-head was tipped with something. It burns." She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips then.
When Leon hesitated, Makoe stepped up behind Samar abruptly and yanked out the protruding projectile. Samar, unprepared, threw back her head and screamed again, twice as anguished as before.
The scream freed Stefan from his paralysis. He staggered one step forward. It took an effort of will to keep his every action deliberate, controlled. He ripped his sleeve off – his father-the-count would have had an apoplexy – and bundled it to use as a compress against the wound.
He helped a trembling, distraught Leon support Samar. Looking down at the clammy, pale face and into the pain-bright hazel eyes, Stefan realized how unreal the situation felt. Samar could not be mortally wounded. The wound was serious, yes, but it could not be bad enough to kill her, surely. Samar die? Impossible. Stefan recognized that he was in shock, irrational.
Not half as irrational as Tristan was when he arrived.
"_Samar!_" he roared, madness and fury in his voice as he raced towards them. He was bloodied from the fight. Most of the blood wasn't his own, Stefan knew. A small part of him realized how irrelevant that thought was.
The hyperactive vampire all but shouldered him aside, almost dancing in panic. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded.
No one answered him when Makoe bent to grip the hunter by the hair on the crown and jerked his head back. "Drink," he snapped.
Samar glared at him with what came very close to virulent hatred. "It won't do any good."
"Yes, it will." Makoe hauled the vampire as if he were nothing more than a rag doll and thrust him over Samar's semi-prone form. With his free hand, he all but ripped the human's throat out. Bright blood dripped onto Samar's face. "Drink."
Stefan was sickened, but not as much as he had expected to be. He shared a bit of the grimness the others apparently felt. He was part of the hunt and they part of him.
So when Samar moved to sit up, grasping the hunter's shoulders, Stefan lifted her, held her up, helped her.
When she was done, Makoe and Tristan dragged the limp, cooling body away. Samar leaned back against Leon who cradled her with pain-staking care. Worry etching deep lines into his face.
They were silent, watching her with varying degrees of anxiety. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was easier, but she was wan and her body was unnaturally still, lacking the vibrant energy that was so much a part of her.
Tense minutes ticked by. Eventually, Samar sighed and opened her eyes. She looked at Makoe first. The dark vampire was silent and as expressionless as ever. If he felt any guilt, any remorse, that she had been injured protecting him, he gave no sign. Samar's lips twisted briefly but she didn't say anything.
She turned her attention to Tristan. Her brother was speechless, the uncharacteristic manner underscoring the severity of the situation. He stiffened like a drawn bow when their eyes met. He met her eyes for a second, then spun and stalked away to the nearest tree. There, he unleashed his pent up emotions in silent, physical fury.
Samar's hazel eyes went to Leon next, and her hand lifted to brush over his face. Tears, Stefan realized. Leon was weeping. "Just when we started, hm?" she murmured cryptically. Leon's eyes squeezed tightly shut and Stefan felt a pang of sympathy, having guessed how Leon felt about the vampire girl.
From her words, it would seem that Samar knew as well.
Fingers in Leon's hair, she finally looked at Stefan, and now the farewell – the resigned finality – in her eyes, was clear. The Italian vampire had the uncanny feeling of déjà vu, recalling how he had held Elena as she slipped away from him, that terrible day after she had defeated Katherine...
Stefan's head came up just as Tristan burst out finally, unable to stand it, "There has to be _something_ that can be done!".
"There is," he breathed. Tristan, fist still planted against the tree-trunk, twisted to look at him. So did the other vampires. "What?"
Samar was staring at him, Makoe watching coldly, Leon looking as if he dared not hope.
"There may be a way—" Stefan began a bit cautiously. "Elena—" He broke off as a bright figure exiting the smoking mansion caught his attention.
The pale white glow surrounding Elena was visible in the gold of the evening's rays. She faced the house, head tilted back. Nothing happened at first. Then clouds started to gather and darken the sky.
Rain fell, hissing, on the burning mansion. The vampires could feel the cool wind and smell the damp and the ozone before the fine drizzle reached them. Leon murmured something in wonder.
Leaving the building behind, Elena made her way to where the two-score vampires had gathered, waiting for her. Stefan saw Jerrick limping along after her.
He heard someone's breath catch; he thought it was Samar's. They all watched her with the intensity of predators. She didn't do anything, but then the first of the vampires began to fall. In ones and twos, the vampires collapsed and lay still. Stefan could sense, ever so faintly, the way the auras of each faded.
"Elena can Turn Samar. And save her," Stefan explained softly. "It may be the only way."
Tristan, of course, exploded. He came storming back to stand over Stefan with murder in his eyes. "Ridiculous. No sister of mine is going to be made human!"
"Would you rather she die instead?" Stefan challenged flatly. If earlier he had been in denial, now his mind was clinical and devoid of emotion. It was, he thought, a different kind of shock.
Tristan stopped short but the stubborn look on his face didn't change. He looked at Samar, seeking support. But Samar had her head angled to watch Elena. When the last vampire lay prone, the glowing figure glided over to them.
"She's coming for me," Stefan reminded them, tight-voiced, when Tristan looked ready to fight. "And she doesn't change the unwilling."
His eyes shifted to Samar resting doll-like in Leon's arms. "You can get someone to change you back into a vampire later," Stefan added compassionately. It could not be easy having such a decision forced on her suddenly and out of desperate need.
"We don't _know_ what happens if one of the Turned is changed back into a vampire!" Tristan protested. Stefan wondered if the arguments were a knee-jerk reaction, a way of dealing with the stress of the situation.
Then Elena was there. The glow, the expression in her face and eyes... She looked ethereal, otherworldly. Fey.
She didn't seem to see Stefan, stopping to stand beside Leon. "Samar. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked simply.
Stefan heard Samar's breath roughen as she battled out this decision. Leon slowly took her hand. "I'll be right behind you," he said, quietly reassuring.
Hazel eyes lifted and locked with forest green. Stefan tried to imagine how she felt at this moment, tried to understand what she might need. He gave her a look of calm understanding, but otherwise remained neutral, letting her take the time she needed to decide on her own.
At last, she pursed her lips and blinked slowly once, reminiscent of nodding. Her fingers in Leon's his hand a light squeeze. "No, don't. Wait a bit; I might not be Turned for long," she told him.
The mild vampire looked at her and it was she who gave him the reassuring smile. Drawing a deep breath carefully enough to avoid gasping in pain, Samar addressed Elena. "Yes. Yes, there is. Turn me."
"Are you sure?"
Samar braced herself. "Yes.
"Very well then." Elena didn't give her any time to reconsider. Power unfurled and coiled around Samar.
Stefan could almost feel the thrum and singing of raw Power. He felt her tense, then go lax. Her breathing evened out, then slowed and finally stopped. He found Leon's eyes clinging to him and nodded in reassurance. "That's supposed to happen."
The Italian vampire rose and stepped away. Tristan moved to take his place, crouching beside his sister.
Stefan walked to stand beside Elena and calmed his mind. His own transformation was suddenly upon him and he needed to prepare himself for it.
::Good hunting.::
Stefan slid Makoe a look for that incongruous wish, but took it in the spirit it was meant. ::Thank you.::
Then Elena faced him and all other thoughts disappeared. Stefan stared into her deep blue eyes, searching for a hint of the woman within the vessel of Power. ::Elena.::
He thought he saw a flicker of recognition amid the abstraction.
::I will not be able to do this anymore, not in this way. But for one last time, I wanted to tell you in a way you cannot doubt, in a way you can only feel, how much I love you.::
::Stefan...::
His eyes widened in shock and delight, hearing her own mental voice in his head.
And suddenly, he found himself looking at Elena, not the instrument of Nature but the girl he who meant more to him than life itself.
The white glow was gone, but he didn't noticed; love shone in her eyes and there was nothing distant or fey about them.
They closed the distance between them and the contact brought strength, comfort.
::I love you, too.::
Stefan held her tight, basking in the pure, clear emotion that flowed through those words. He suddenly felt the urgency to say a thousand things to her while they could share it mind to mind like this, but no words formed in his mind, only feelings. Some, he shared with her – anticipation, hope, eagerness, need. Others he carefully kept hidden – fear, uncertainty, regret-tinted nostalgia.
From her, he received love, answering need, echoed anticipation and a fierce protectiveness. How long they stood there, in wordless and intertwined communion, Stefan didn't know, but finally he roused to rest his lips on her temple.
::I'm ready,:: he told her softly.
Stefan felt her gather herself. Then, warmth spreading from her to him, enfolding him.
So this is what it's like, he thought. And in the back of his mind was the chant, Change. I want to be human again.
Odd images rose in his mind. Flashes of moments in the past five hundred years, things he had not thought about in decades and more. The pictures came faster, spinning dizzily out of control. They began to merge into a featureless blur, only a remembered scent, a snatched fragment of sound, brought back memories.
He felt Elena's mind touch his again, just as he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * *
Eiran watched her.
She sat on the damp grass beside Stefan's body with one of his hands nestled in hers. They were both so still, they could have been a single statue. Bright hair fell around her bent head, obscuring her face. He wondered what thoughts occupied her mind.
The instrument of Nature, the shining figure so removed from human cares, was gone. Now he saw only a young woman sitting anxious vigil over her beloved.
A second figure lay nearby; the vampire girl. She had her own attendees – her brother and the thin vampire. The cold-eyed vampire stood a little apart, one shoulder propped against a tree. Eiran had the odd sense that he was watching over all of them.
::Eiran.::
Eiran was abruptly aware of his surroundings again, his focus expanding beyond the little circle around Elena. The ex-vampire swiveled his head to meet Jerrick's gaze where he sat quietly on a blanket spread on the ground.
The rain had tapered off, leaving everything with a sheen in the twilight. Lamps and candles dotted the lawn. Inside the ruined mansion, the powerful beams from heavy-duty hand lights swiveled as some hunters and witches looked for survivors or retrieved valuables.
The news of Crystal's demise had hit the hunters hard, thrown them into disarray. Heated words had been exchanged between the dominants, who stormed off with their respective supporters. No clear leadership had emerged.
In the space of an hour, Crystal Baron's great hunter army broke up into small bands, diminishing in size and, more, in might.
The fractious ones had departed after an 'interview' with Jerrick. Eiran didn't know what it was the witch had said – or done – but the Turned and the witches had not been forcibly ousted from the Baron place. The hunters that remained now, incredibly, took direction from the red-headed witch. Eiran recognized them as those who had known and worked with Jerrick before Elena's arrival.
Just then, Taura stuck her head out a second-storey window of the mansion then and called something down to another of the hunters who replied. The petite huntress let out a frustrated yell, then ducked back inside.
Further along the treeline, a mixed group of Turned and witches had settled to wait in a small cluster, having made the new-Turned as comfortable as they could.
Jerrick lifted a hand and beckoned.
Eiran crossed the distance separating them, feeling his expression close to neutrality. He waited for Jerrick to speak, taking a patient stance beside him. The witch didn't keep him waiting for long.
"This is going to take a while," came the cryptic murmur. The pale blue eyes were focused on the little hillock where Elena was.
Eiran kept quiet.
"I want you to leave tomorrow."
He froze. "So soon?" he blurted then paused. And why not? a voice asked him logically. What was the point of waiting?
Except, he realized with a start, that he had wanted to spend some time with Elena before leaving on the next task Jerrick set for him. That realization made him uncomfortable even as conscious recognition of it increased its intensity.
Now Jerrick jerked about to look at him. "Emson McModrey managed to send out a message before he was unmade. I was too weak to block him." The frail fist clenched where it rested on one knee. Jerrick's voice remained low but what it lacked in volume was more than compensated in intensity. "His remaining brethren _know_, Eiran. The next one will be on his guard. It will make it so much more difficult to catch him. We have no time to waste. We _cannot_ let him thwart us like that. We are _so close_" The last came out almost hissed.
Eiran tensed, feeling fear shoot up his spine like an icy blast. It was perhaps the first time he had seen Jerrick show such strong emotion. Knowing full well how powerful Jerrick was, knowing just what he was capable of, Eiran was justified in his dread.
His first thought was to worry for Elena and her continued defiance of this man.
Jerrick was silent, appearing to compose himself. When he spoke next, he was once again the frail witch who guided with wisdom and a mild word.
"Eiran, I think I can manage things here with the other witches' help. Gather your people and return to the lodge. Make whatever preparations you will need. Rest. In the morning, I will confer with you and you will lead them out and bring me back the sixth Old One."
The ex-vampire took a breath to calm himself and give himself a moment to shake off his lingering visceral fear.
Tomorrow. Elena would not leave Stefan's side this night, even if he awoke in the next few hours. Eiran would not have the chance to speak to her at all.
Jerrick turned his eyes away from Elena and caught Eiran's gaze. "We're close now. She's almost free."
Free. The sooner they defeat all the Old Ones, the sooner Elena would be released from her promise and immortality. With Stefan now Turned, there would be nothing standing in their way once she completed her task.
Some of Eiran's resistance to leaving so soon melted in the face of that thought. His throat clenched as he walked away. He signaled one of the Turned who was part of the strike force and conveyed Jerrick's message. As the man ran to gather the rest of the strike force, Eiran made his way to Elena.
He called her name softly when he was in earshot. The two other vampires near the unconscious girl looked up, as did she. Makoe, who had watched him approach, continued to look at him in silence.
"Eiran," Elena acknowledged just as quietly, as if afraid to disturb Stefan or the vampire girl. She lifted a hand in tacit invitation for him to come closer.
He did, crouching on one knee beside her. His eyes went to Stefan's face. "How goes it?" he asked. Could she track the vampire as he or she Turned? The vampires had gone back to keeping watch over the girl, ignoring him.
Elena still held one of Stefan's hands in hers. "Well enough. It will be some time yet before we'll know for sure. But not too long." She sounded serene, confident; if there was worry there, it was well-hidden.
Eiran could only nod. He hesitated. "I will be leaving in the morning to track the next Old One."
Her head moved a little and her face lifted in a listening pose.
"Jerrick said the other Old Ones have been warned. We need to move quickly," he explained.
Elena was silent for a long moment. "I can understand his urgency," she said at last. Her tone surprised Eiran, holding none of the edge that usually emerged when she spoke of Jerrick. "Is he going with you?"
"Not that I know of, milady." He earned a quick, reproving look for slipping into that old form of address and flashed a small, unrepentant smile. The look reminded him of how anger could sharpen a woman's beauty.
"Am _I_ supposed to go with you?"
He shook his head.
"He can't mean to capture the Old One, then, without either of us with you," she mused, frowning. "That would mean he hasn't located the Old One yet." Her frown deepened. "I'd have thought he would be watching all of them by now," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He watched her eyes travel to rest on Jerrick and then narrow. Finally, she looked back at him and her expression softened, giving him a pang.
"Thank you for telling me, Eiran. Be safe," she said.
He bent his head in a combination of a nod and a bow and rose. She turned back to her Stefan before he had take two steps. Back to her, eyes on the ground, he walked away.
"And you, lady," he whispered, then raised his arm and voice to call the other members of his team.