I am so, so, so sorry this took so long to get up. August and September were crazy months with job issues, relationship issues, family visits, and all that fun stuff. The good news is that everything has (mostly) mellowed out. I am taking an English class from now until December so updates won't be super frequent, but they definitely shouldn't take as long as this. Thank you very much to everyone who has read, enjoyed, and reviewed. This chapter was a blast to write when I found the time and longer than the others so you get more bang for your buck. Y'all are paying me for this, right? ;)

Chapter 9

Meredith gazed out the window of the taxi she'd hailed as it headed back to the Plaza. In spite of it being close to three in the morning, there were still people wandering along the narrow streets. Over-arcing street lamps cast them in a golden glow. Maybe it was the warm summer evenings or the many charms of the city, but everyone—tourists and locals alike—put off going inside until they absolutely had to. There definitely wasn't a lack of restaurants and cafes to accommodate them; the majority didn't shut their doors until midnight at the earliest.

How different Rome was compared to back home. In Fell's Church the streets were typically deserted by eleven, even on weekends. It wasn't exactly a thriving metropolis of culture and art. For anything resembling a movie theatre or bowling alley you had to drive at least an hour outside of town.

It surprised Meredith when she first realized she actually missed Fell's Church. Everyone in their group had made jeering fun of their small town where nothing ever happened (until a certain young man had come along, of course). Fell's Church was the type of place teenagers made vows to escape from. Meredith herself had sworn that she couldn't wait to go to Duke immediately after graduation. So she could finally be free to live life instead of watching everyone else live theirs.

At least in her barely-a-blip-on-the-map town she'd felt accepted. No one had questioned or challenged Meredith's detached coolness. They grew up with her sarcastic wit and calm veneer, simply assuming that was how she was. Bonnie and Elena were the only one's who had ever seen the side of her when that perfect control had faltered.

In Rome, Meredith was a complete stranger, not only to others, but sometimes even to herself. She'd begun to discover that sometimes the only way to slip into her fabricated persona was to simply delve into it completely. Not trying to think about it too much or act, but simply becoming a spoiled prima-donna. If she allowed herself to take over rather than the part it started to seem too rehearsed. While it was unnerving to allow "Madeline" to run the show, like a multiple personality rearing it's ugly head, at least it appeared to be working so far.

That was the only thing going according to plan.

It was only her first week in Rome and already Meredith was beginning to realize the insurmountable odds stacked against her. She'd arrived confident and eager that she could do this, but lately she'd begun to have her doubts.

Nearly every night of the past week had been spent out with the Bradford's and their friends. Saturday hadn't even arrived yet and Meredith had already attended a ballet, an art opening, and another cocktail party at the villa of someone Charles knew. There appeared to be a trend when it came to living like the privileged. Sleep in late, eat brunch—breakfast was so distastefully early as Vivienne put it—then get ready for whatever that evening's entertainment was.

Occasionally, if there was time amidst such a hectic schedule, they might gather for drinks on one of the hotel terraces. Meredith didn't really see the point of those get-togethers, though, since none of the ladies seemed to actually enjoy the sun. They wore giant hats, sunglasses, and commiserated about the hazard of UVA rays while lathering on sun screen.

Meredith had been certain at first that there was no way anyone in the Bradford's inner circle could possibly be a vampire. They all seemed so boring and normal, a far cry from the intrigue and excitement that fairly crackled in the air whenever Stefan and Damon were around. The more time she spent amidst the upper class, however, the more she began to question her original assessment. As evening after evening progressed, each one spent surrounded by a throng of faces, she'd begun to realize there wasn't one she could have definitively pin-pointed as a vampire.

What did she really know about vampires? Meredith tapped her fingers against the armrest as she tried to recall. There were certain rules governing their activities, of course. They couldn't enter a building unless first invited or maintain exposure to sunlight without some sort of special ring. And there was some type of plant that kept them from manipulating your thoughts and dreams. Meredith struggled to remember the name. Something like 'vermouth', except that was wine, or 'verve'…Vervain! That was it.

The triumph she felt at recalling the proper name quickly faded as she realized nothing in her limited knowledge of vampires could possibly help her identify one. With most of the events she'd been attending held in the evening and rings they could wear so they could go out during the day, sunlight was out as a way to detect them. Knowing about Vervain was equally useless since it was a vampire repellant. What was she supposed to do, bottle it like a perfume and see who didn't come near her?

Besides aversions to sunlight and Vervain, the only other distinguishing quality about vampires she was aware of was that they were typically beautiful. Ethereal and stunning, paintings of perfection come to startling life. Even Katherine and Klaus—both clearly deranged—had possessed that physical magnificence that was arresting to behold.

If she were still in Fell's Church Meredith could have identified a vampire in a cinch. There weren't many in a town of three-thousand who fit the profile of "stunningly gorgeous". In Rome things were more challenging.

In Rome there were super models, royalty, and those who could afford plastic surgery.

"Miss, we're here."

Meredith had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even realized the cab had come to a halt. Looking up, she blinked in surprise when she saw they were parked in front of the Plaza. "Oh yes, thank you," she said, hastily groping in her purse for a bill which happened to be a fifty.

"Thank you very much," the driver said eagerly when she handed him the money without indicating she wanted any change. Meredith hadn't mentally done the math, but it must have been a generous tip for he thanked her several more times as she exited the cab.

The heels of Meredith's Manolo shoes echoed loudly in the marble foyer as she crossed to the elevators. She couldn't wait to be rid of them. They were the prettiest pair of torture devices she'd ever seen granted, elegant and strappy, but they were killing her feet. Why did everything fashionable always take so long to break in?

Besides the shoes, Meredith was wearing a royal purple Chanel dress, strapless with an empire waist, a crystal-cut diamond necklace, and a bracelet adorned with sparkling amethysts. Maintaining the ruse of an heiress was rapidly depleting her trust fund.

Meredith let out a sigh of relief when she was in the solitude of her hotel room. The three-thousand dollar high heels were the first thing to go, kicked off as she wandered into the living room. Her jewelry was unceremoniously dropped on top of the fireplace mental. Just as she had the zipper of her dress all the way undone, intending to slip out of it and into a fluffy robe, her eyes suddenly adjusted to the dark—enough to realize she wasn't alone.

A figure cloaked in darkness sat in the chair nearest to the glass doors that led to the balcony. Saffron moonlight streaming through the glass allowed her to make out eyes that gleamed like polished ebony. White teeth flashed at her from the shadows.

"Don't stop on my behalf." The grin grew wider, making Damon look like a hungry wolf. "I was just beginning to enjoy the show."

The only response Meredith gave at first was doing the zipper back up on her dress and turning on the nearest lamp. There was something very disconcerting about being alone in the dark with Damon. Especially with those eyes watching you; they reminded her of a shark's. They glittered as though there ought to be something enticing in their depths, until you got close enough to realize there was only the abyss of a hungry predator.

"What—"

"In the hell am I doing here?" He concluded for her. Damon made a 'tsking' noise of disappointment. "You really need to come up with a new opening line, dear Meredith. Yours are becoming rather predictable."

With no one around to pretend for, Meredith glared at him freely. "Why is there never any white ash wood around when you really need it?" she muttered, loud enough for Damon to hear. "How did you get in here?"

"Through those doors."

He gestured absently to the balcony doors, one of which she noticed was slightly ajar.

"I thought you couldn't enter somewhere unless first invited. In fact, I was kind of counting on it."

"Oh, yes, that pesky little glitch to being undead." The corner of his mouth curled in distaste. "Hotel rooms are different for some reason. I have several theories, but I think it mainly comes down to there being an implied invitation with hotels. These walls aren't really meant for permanent human habitation so the regular rules of vampirism don't apply."

"How fascinating," Meredith said drolly. "I'll be sure to add that to my list of things that really suck about the undead—besides the obvious, of course. So you can enter my room any time you want…Great. What other good news have you come to bring me?"

It felt good to speak to Damon with sarcasm and derision—Meredith's greatest weapons when faced with an unpleasant situation. Seeing him at the party a week ago had admittedly thrown her. She hadn't been able to thoroughly channel all of the contempt she felt for Damon Salvatore. Tonight was different because she'd known he would be back. To think otherwise would have been imprudent.

Speaking to him contemptuously also helped keep her focused. She wasn't afraid of him per se, but he was volatile and unpredictable. Even simply sitting in a chair he managed to look lazy yet alert. It was a posture that had been perfected over centuries of evolution by felines and other hunting animals—the illusion of relaxed stillness even as they prepared to strike.

"Only that I think we might be able to help each other," Damon replied in a voice that was honeyed silk. The soft sound slid over her skin, leaving behind shivers of apprehension.

Covering her unease, Meredith let out a sharp, doubtful laugh. "What could you possibly help me with?"

"What about the Dark Veritas?" he returned casually.

Hooded eyes studied her intently as Meredith froze, wondering how much Damon knew. Possibly everything…What did it mean if he did?

Meredith mulled that probability over as she looked back at him balefully. Even if Damon did know everything, that still didn't give him anymore dirt on her than he already had. No, he had undoubtedly returned for more nefarious reasons than mere blackmail. She would have liked to think his interests extended from nothing more than bored curiosity. That would have only been deluding herself, however. Damon didn't do anything unless there was some way for him to benefit from it.

An idea suddenly popped into Meredith's head, one she couldn't believe hadn't occurred to her earlier. There might be something she could gain out of this situation; a silver lining to the dark cloud looming over her head. Maybe Damon could help her after all.

He was a vampire. There was a strong likelihood that he would know something about the Dark Veritas. More than George's valiant efforts at research had produced anyhow. The tricky part came in trying to extract that knowledge from Damon without giving away how eagerly she wanted it.

Owing Damon a favor was already one too many.

"What do you know about them?" Meredith asked, proceeding cautiously.

"Enough," he replied, so smugly and arrogantly that she wanted to hit him. "I know you want to join them."

"And why would I want that?"

"Because it's the only way you'll be able to destroy them. The only way to properly kill the beast is from within. It's where you'll do the most permanent, harmful damage."

"And you intend to help me with this?" Meredith frowned in doubt.

"Not entirely. When it comes to trying to destroy them you're on your own. I can, however, help you get in."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why would you help me?" Meredith repeated. She was automatically suspicious and on her guard. "You don't exactly strike me as the charitable type, prone to random acts of kindness. What's in this for you?"

"I helped save my brother from Klaus without some sort of incentive."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Stefan is your brother, naturally you felt compelled to help him. If he hadn't been involved I doubt you would have stepped back in to save any of our necks. Your conscience might be triggered unwillingly by family blood, but I'm betting it typically stays silent where complete strangers are concerned."

"Your insights into my character are most fascinating," Damon commented disdainfully. He leaned forward in his chair, meeting her gaze with an honesty she'd seldom seen him display. "I'll admit my interest in your plans isn't entirely innocent. I'm willing to help you because I want in."

"You want to join the Dark Veritas?" Meredith arched an eyebrow, surprised even though she knew she shouldn't have been. What was it George had said the Dark Veritas gave her grandfather? Money, power, women…Everything Damon could possibly want. "Why do you need me? You're already a vampire. What more does it take to qualify for a membership?"

"You really don't know a lot about the Dark Veritas, do you?" Damon replied. The look he gave her was probably meant to be one of pity, but from him it came across as contempt.

Meredith wished she could take back what she'd just uttered. Candidly admitting how little she knew about the Dark Veritas by asking too many questions had been foolish. If there was one thing she despised above all others it was looking stupid. And to do so in front of Damon was reprehensible. He was the sort who would instantly sense such weakness and exploit it to his advantage.

"I thought you came here to ask me a favor, not insult me," she said icily.

"A mutual favor."

"Whatever. Why do you need me so you can join the Dark Veritas?"

"I don't really need you," Damon replied. "I could easily go persuade any other human, but I thought you might like to take advantage of the opportunity I'm offering."

"I doubt that."

"And why would that be?"

"If you could simply go convince any human on the street, I'm betting you would already belong to the Dark Veritas," Meredith reasoned. "Yet here you are, in my hotel room, wasting my time. Either be honest about why you need my help or get out."

The haughty, superior look vanished from Damon's face, replaced by one of extreme irritation. So it was possible to get under his skin after all, Meredith thought to herself gleefully. "What is your plan for infiltrating the Dark Veritas exactly?" he asked after a brief pause. His expression had returned to its usual indecipherable calmness.

"It's in progress."

"Really?" Damon smirked knowingly. "So you know what your options are then?"

Meredith hesitated, momentarily torn between her pride and her curiosity to know more about the Dark Veritas. The latter won out. "If we're going to be discussing vampire bedtime stories, I'm going to do so comfortably." Reaching up, she released her hair from the clip that had secured it in an elegant knot for the evening. The dusky silk weight of her hair cascaded to her shoulders in soft waves. Then she took a seat on the couch parallel to where Damon sat, stretching out her legs. A sigh of satisfied relief escaped her before she recalled who her present company was—as if she could possibly forget.

"Yet another night of carousing with the bland and boring?" Damon commented, eyeing her legs appreciatively.

Noticing where he was looking, Meredith drew her legs up on the couch, tucking them to the side and covering them with the skirt of her dress. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Your alter ego and I do happen to frequent the same social circle."

"Right, because you're not remotely the stalker type," Meredith said sarcastically, but she let the subject drop. Crossing her arms over her chest, she decided it was time to get back to the business at hand. "We were discussing my options. I know the Dark Veritas consider themselves to be superior to humans. My kind has limited purpose in their world except to accommodate the wants of their members. Food, slavery, and entertainment are our most common uses I believe."

"I'm impressed. So you do have some idea of what you're getting yourself into."

"I wouldn't be sitting here, considering what you have to offer otherwise," Meredith said, smiling slightly at the irony of the situation. "Are those my only options?"

"Yes, those are the only three ways mortals are accepted as part of the Dark Veritas."

If Damon was telling the truth that meant her grandfather's induction into the vampire cult had been a rare exception. If being the key word. Meredith considered for a moment whether or not she thought Damon was being honest. Much to her own shock she realized she did. Despite occasionally being vague or ambiguous in how he answered direct questions, Damon had never proven himself to be a liar.

"Tell me more about each one," she prompted. "I suppose food is fairly self-explanatory."

"Yes. Those humans are captured and kept alive strictly for feeding purposes. Members are discouraged from draining them, but, from what I've heard, it's a common occurrence. Vampires, especially the elite, are low on will power."

Meredith ran a hand absently along her neck, swallowing hard. The notion of being nothing more than something to feast on was difficult to accept. Centuries of ingrained food-chain superiority rallied against the idea. Strong potential of death aside, Meredith was certain she wouldn't be able to willingly place herself in such a situation.

"Sounds…primitive. What about slavery?"

"You might live longer." Damon smiled, but it wasn't kind. "Slaves are responsible for serving all members of the Dark Veritas. They also maintain the cleanliness of their headquarters. The Dark Veritas are meticulous when it comes to being clean."

"Vampire OCD, now I've heard everything," Meredith murmured to herself. "So when you say serve I'm guessing that isn't limited to bringing them cocktails and doling out foot rubs?"

"That might be a part of it, if they're lucky. The Dark Veritas enjoy testing the slaves. If they can't meet their demands, they are punished—or put immediately to death. They can also be used as a food source so they may live longer than those humans used strictly for food, but probably not by much."

Meredith stared at him as he spoke, her horror mounting with every new revelation. "I am going to like the third option better than the first two, right?" she asked sharply.

"That all depends on how open-minded you are."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Making a steeple with his hands beneath his chin, Damon paused, appearing hesitant about how to begin. Meredith didn't take this as a good sign. "Part of the reason I was never allowed to join is because every member of the Dark Veritas is expected to have a human familiar of sorts. I've never really known why this is, but I was prevented from being accepted as a member because I didn't have one. You're supposed to have a certain bond with your familiar that leaves you more open and vulnerable than I felt comfortable with. There's a certain amount of trust inherent in such a relationship that I've never felt could be achieved with one of your kind."

Meredith chose to ignore this obvious slight. "Yet you'd trust me?" she asked in disbelief.

"Only because I know you wouldn't expect to have the same degree of closeness as an official familiar. We can always fake that part."

"What kind of 'closeness'?" Her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"We'll get to that later." He waved a hand dismissively. "Let's start with the positives. These companions—"

"Oh, they're 'companions' now, are they?" Meredith cut him off. "At first they were 'familiars'."

"Right, these familiars," Damon continued without missing a beat, "belong to one vampire. No one else can interfere with them unless the vampire who owns the familiar allows it. That means they can't be bitten or even touched without permission. To do so is taboo and there is a harsh punishment dealt."

"That sounds mildly promising," she admitted grudgingly. "Now why don't you tell me exactly what these familiars—or companions or whatever—are for? You've used a lot of indistinct words to describe them without telling me anything comprehensive."

"I guess you have a right to know what you'd be getting yourself into…"

"You won't get my co-operation unless I do."

"I used the word 'companion' because that's part of their main role. Everywhere their master—the vampire who owns them—goes, so do they. Some vampires use mind powers to keep their familiars infatuated with them. Others don't have to. The prestige of being draped on the arm of someone powerful and beautiful, even if they're technically dead, is often enough."

"They're trophies?" Forgetting her ire momentarily, Meredith found herself intrigued. It was like getting a glimpse into the traditions of certain foreign cultures; repulsive yet fascinating.

"That's a part of their role. Most familiars are pampered and lavished upon by their masters. The more attractive the familiar, the better the vampire they belong to appears. Jealousy is common amongst masters when it comes to familiars. Masters never willingly give up their familiars, but they can be challenged for them."

Damon raked his gaze over her appraisingly. "For you they'd probably start a war."

Meredith wasn't sure whether to feel flattered—or like a piece of meat at the auction. "Thanks…I guess. So they're beauty pageant contestants, escorts, and…" The third word from George's report slid into place, completing the puzzle. Entertainment. Realization dawned on her so abruptly that she wasn't sure whether to laugh or gasp.

"They're sex slaves," she whispered, appalled and dismayed.

"Well, not slaves exactly. Many of them quite enjoy their role. There can be many benefits to being a vampire's companion, in and out of the bedroom."

Damon spoke casually and conversationally, as though they were discussing the weather or plans for the weekend. "It's not like you'd actually have to do anything like that," he continued. "You'd only have to pretend as though you were infatuated with me. It's really the perfect scenario for both of us. I secure a place for myself in the Dark Veritas. You can investigate freely without having to worry about coming to any harm."

"No, no, and Hell no." Standing up instinctually, she was momentarily torn between anger and extreme embarrassment. Rage won out. "You actually thought I would be open to such an idea? Get out!" Meredith demanded, jerking her finger in the direction of the door. "I can't believe I actually considering using your 'help' for even five seconds."

Damon remained where he was sitting, appearing unperturbed by her anger. "This is really your best option, Meredith," he argued as though she weren't viewing the situation sensibly. "How else will you be able to infiltrate the Dark Veritas without being killed?"

"I'll figure something out. I'm sure I'll be better off than relying on you as my gigolo. Now get out." She emphasized her command through clenched teeth.

"Fine." Damon rose from his chair. "And here I always thought you were the more practical, sensible one of the group."

Meredith had been heading in the direction of the door to make sure he left, but now she spun on him furiously. "Well, there's where you made your fatal mistake," she seethed irately. "You would need someone out of their mind to consider what you want. Did you really think you could just stroll in here, say 'Hey, Baby, want to be my Playboy playmate' and I'd say 'sure, that sounds super keen'? Did you even think this out at all?"

"Yes, I did actually," Damon replied. His tone and expression had become cold and detached once again. "I thought that you would be logical enough to see that this was your only viable option."

"Well, I'm sorry to have disappointed you." Every word dripped with sarcasm.

Following Damon to the door, she opened it and ushered him into the hallway. He paused in the doorway, turning to face her. This brought them essentially face-to-face. Meredith supposed it was a tactic meant to intimidate, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of stepping back or cringing. His eyes, pools of inky blackness against the flawless ivory of his skin, bore into hers. Steeling herself, she looked back without flinching or looking away. Damon smiled, raising his hand as though to caress her cheek as he'd done at the party the other night.

"What a pity you won't be my companion," he purred, low and seductive. "With you on my arm, we could rule the underworld of the Dark Veritas. The Persephone to my Hades…"

Meredith slapped his hand away. "Thanks, but I'm not particularly fond of pomegranates or jackasses," she snapped.

Damon chuckled in amusement. "If you change your mind, I'll be around."

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

Meredith shut the door in his face.