Chapter 16: Damon's POV
It's been a long day.
And that's saying something. Considering I've been alive for over a hundred years, I've had my fair share of long days.
But in this moment, looking into Bella's warm, brown eyes, I'm feeling a little better. But then I remember the visit I had earlier today, and now I'm not feeling good at all.
Stefan had been right about the tomb vampires being angry. In a way, I understand their rage. Being locked in a tomb, slowly dying—I'd be pretty pissed off too. Although, my anger would lean more toward a kill-everyone-you-see kind of rage, not a let's-take-over-the-town kind.
But that's where Pearl is.
Her and Anna paid me a visit this morning to inform me just how angry they were.
It went something like this:
I was getting a drink—my usual blend of scotch and blood—when I was rudely interrupted.
One minute, I'm staring at my drink, contemplating the day's council meeting, and the next thing I know, I'm being forced against a wall with Anna's face inches from mine.
"Anna," I draw out her name slowly, trying to maintain composure, "How lovely of you to invade my property and personal space."
"My mother wants to talk to you," she says through gritted teeth.
"Well then," I push her off me and head back to my drink, "she can come and talk to me. No need to send a gopher." I take a long drink. For some reason, I think I'm going to need it.
"I'm not a gopher," Anna snarls.
"You sure do look like one," I retort, taking another swig.
"Damon," a cold voice says. Without looking, I know it's Pearl. I would recognize that voice anywhere. She had been a friend of the even bigger bitch, Katherine. "No need to be rude to my daughter."
I give her my best fake smile.
"Long time no see, Pearl." She doesn't answer, just hums softly as she slowly circles my living room, her pale hand grazing the furniture.
She looks exactly the same—more modern, perhaps—but still the same. Same black hair, same absent eyes, same, same, same.
But then again, she's a vampire. We're a constant in this forever-changing world.
"I need your help," Pearl says after a long pause, still not looking at me.
"For what?"
"To take back what is ours," Anna interjects with a snarl.
"And by 'we,' you mean the vampires?"
"Who else?"
I laugh. I can't help it.
"And why would I help you?" I lean back in my chair, trying to appear relaxed. Inside, I'm a mess. "I actually kind of like this town the way it is."
Anna hisses, and Pearl glares.
"Because if you don't, we'll poke and prod at your weak points until they break," Pearl threatens. "Literally."
"Go ahead. Personally, I'd like it if you started with Elena first. She's starting to get on my nerves. Of course, I won't mind if you want to throw Stefan into the mix. So be my guest, poke and prod to your heart's desire."
"A day ago, I would have gone after those two exact people," Pearl's smile is devious. "But then Anna told me of someone else."
I hold my breath.
No way does she know about Bella.
No way.
"What's her name again, Annabelle?" Pearl asks sweetly.
"Isabella, I believe, mother. Isabella Swan."
My unbeating heart drops. My stomach curls. And for the first time in years, I want to throw up.
It's a miracle that I somehow keep a neutral face.
That doesn't mean Pearl doesn't notice the effect that name has on me. She's had too many years on me, too many years of reading people not to notice the slight twitch in my jaw or the rapid blinking of my eyes.
"I think we've hit a nerve, Anna," Pearl muses. Anna nods.
I want to kill her. I want to stake her and watch her turn to a grey mummy. Then I'd turn around and kill her pathetic little daughter too.
But I can't.
I'm frozen to my spot, waiting to hear what she has to say next.
"Well, we'll leave you to think about it, Damon," Pearl's voice is sweet again, making it that much worse. "We'll be back. And please, make sure you think about poor Isabella Swan. We wouldn't want to poke and prod, would we?"
"You don't want to do that, Pearl," my voice is threatening, laced with hate. "You don't want to mess with me."
"Actually, Damon. I think I do."
Then they walk away—Anna on her heels—and they don't look back.
