The bustling newsroom is filled with the clatter of keyboards and the hum of conversation. A determined Elena enters Ric's office to talk about what Professor Natale told her.
Hunched over his desk, Ric looks up and walks over to push the door closed.
"I've got something big. Something that could change everything- an elixir."
"Go to journalism school," my father said. It's a good, sound, down-to-earth profession," Ric mutters under his breath at her.
"Don't you wanna hear this?" Elena retorts, drawing her brows together.
"I'd like to raise tulips for a living, but there's not too much of a demand," Ric mocks and sits back down.
Elena rolls her eyes. "Suppose an elixir of life could be produced, how do you think it'd work? Do you think that one treatment of it would cause everlasting youth? Or do you think that periodic treatments might be required, say..."
Ric raises his palm. "Wait a minute, don't tell me, let me guess. Every 21 years?"
"You're warm."
"Suppose at the end of these 21 years, the man who took the magic elixir begins looking a little...moldy, like...a 100-year-old man. Suppose he has to make a new batch of the elixir and has to make it within three weeks. And suppose that the one ingredient he needs to have is...blood."
"Very good, Ric. You've been paying attention," Elena smiles, amused.
"Suppose he had to go out late every night to get that blood and suppose he got it from the bases of his victims' skulls with a hypodermic needle. Suppose he was so strong that when he strangled his victims, he crushed their necks. Suppose his fingertips were starting to decompose and he left fragments of them on the women's throats..."
"Exactly!" Elena jumps up from her seat.
"Suppose you flap your arms and fly right out that door," Ric extends his arm, pointing toward it. "And then you can check the dictionary and discover what the word fact means. Fact. Fact. Facts!" he's screaming at her.
Elena hustles out of the office and slams the door closed on her way out.
As Elena rides home that night, she wonders where the killer is and if her theory about him is true, perhaps partly true, or as Ric would say fact less, hopeless, useless. She wonders when and how he'll get his next victim since the entire Pioneer Square area is now guarded so closely. The killer doesn't have a lot of time left if this series of murders follows every other pattern.
Elena enters her apartment and kicks off her heels. She crosses to the window, peering out at the city below. The neon signs flicker like dying fireflies.
"Breaking news," she mumbles to herself. As if the world isn't already shattered into a million jagged pieces. And what does she get for her hard work? A scolding by Ric.
Elena pours a glass of wine, the red liquid swirling like her thoughts. She slumps onto the couch, rubbing her temples.
She grabs the remote, flicks through TV channels, and comes across a breaking news alert.
"This is Andie Starr live on the scene for Channel 7 News. I'm standing outside Diamond Jack's Nightclub. Just moments ago, another lifeless body was discovered in the dressing room at Diamond Jacks Nightclub. The victim is an employee. Her identity remains unknown at this time. The area is cordoned off, and investigators are meticulously combing through the area. The atmosphere is tense. This marks the fourth body found in the past couple of weeks, all within the Pioneer Square area. Residents are growing increasingly alarmed, and speculation about a possible serial killer is rampant. Authorities are urging everyone to remain vigilant. If you have any information related to these deaths, please contact the Seattle Police Department immediately. We'll keep you updated as more details emerge. Back to you in the studio."
Elena slips her shoes on, grabs her bag, and is out of her house in minutes.
The dressing room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of perfume and sweat. Mirrors line the walls, reflecting the flickering neon lights from outside. The room is cluttered with sequined dresses, feather boas, and discarded high heels.
Krystal stumbles into the room after her performance to change clothes and go home. She stops short at the sight of Luna Eclipse sprawled out on the floor. Ghastly pale and her lips blue, obviously deceased. She clutches her throat as bloodcurdling screams escape. She knows she should tell someone, but fear roots her to the spot.
She glances around the room, searching for clues. The mirror reflects her wide-eyed panic. The door creaks open, and one of the bouncers steps inside, having heard her scream.
A short time later, Detective Salvatore and others enter the club and are directed to the dressing room. He stoops down to look at the body and sighs heavily. "Did anyone see anything, hear anything?" He looks at the bouncer.
Krystal stammers, "I-I found her like this. I swear!"
"Nobody stood out to you at the club tonight?" Damon asks.
She shakes her head. "Can I go home, please?"
Damon nods and looks at one of the uniformed officers. "Will." he gestures at him with a nod of his head. "Take her home, and I want to keep someone to guard her 24/7. She might be a target." He glances at Luna's lifeless form, torn between fear and curiosity, he looks up when he hears Elena's voice.
"How did you get in here?" he rises and approaches her.
"I heard a breaking news story...Her real name is Eloise Jacobs," Elena's voice trails off when she catches a glimpse of the dead girl's friend, Doris, sobbing.
As Damon leads her out of the room, the CSI technicians pour into the club to begin their all-important work. Elijah follows them inside to give the body a cursory examination.
Damon and Elena stand just outside the room and a short while later, Elijah comes out.
"Strangled with a broken neck and I saw a pinprick of blood at the base of her neck so it would appear your killer has claimed another victim."
"What about the debris on the throat?" Elena interrupts.
Elijah shares a look with Damon and nods at Elena before stepping aside to let the cart in to transport the body to the morgue.
"Listen, I'm going to be here all night. Go home, Elena," Damon tells her and excuses himself to walk her to her car. "Be careful, please?" He embraces her.
They hold onto each other for a long moment. When they pull apart, their eyes lock on one another, and breathe in unison.
Damon kisses her ardently. She tastes just as he remembered, sweet and dark like some tropical fruit, and she shifts against him, kissing him back with equal fervor.
When the part, Damon steps back allowing her to get into her car.
"Call me when you get home."
Elena waves as she drives away and Damon returns to the club for another long and challenging night
The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm halo around the edges. Elena tiptoes across the room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The sheets are cool against her skin as she slides under the covers, cocooning herself in warmth.
Her phone lies on the nightstand, its screen illuminating the room with a soft blue light. She picks it up, her fingers dancing across the screen to find his name. The familiar number appears, and she presses the call button.
The phone rings twice before he answers, his voice still thick with exhaustion. "Hey," Damon murmurs, his words a lazy caress.
"Hey," Elena whispers back, her heart fluttering. "I just wanted to let you know I got home safely and to say goodnight."
There is a pause on the other end, and she imagines him smiling, even though she can't see it.
"Goodnight," Damon says, his voice warm and full of affection. "Sweet dreams."
Elena closes her eyes, imagining him there beside her. The distance between them seems insignificant now as if they are sharing the same bed, breathing the same air. "You too," she whispers.
And then she hangs up, the room falling silent once more. She settles into the pillows, her heart still fluttering. As Elena drifts off to sleep, she knows that no matter how far apart they are, they will always find each other in their dreams.
The police station is abuzz with activity. Reporters huddle near the entrance, clutching notepads and cameras. Among them is Elena.
She approaches the imposing office of Chief Jordan and she knocks on the door.
"Come in," comes from the other side.
She enters. Chief Jordan, a grizzled man in his forties, sits behind a cluttered desk. His stern gaze meets Elena's.
"What do you want?"
"Chief Jordan, you have to put policewomen out there, attempt to lure him in."
"Do I?"
"Yes, you do. You only have a few days to catch the killer, otherwise he's going to disappear again," Elena insists.
"Is he, Miss Gilbert?"
"Yeah, he is, he is! Every 21 years since 1898 for certain and maybe even 1877, he has killed six women in 21 days precisely."
"Precisely? Chief Jordan leans back in his chair. "Who do you think you are to waltz in here and make demands!?"
"I'm reporting on these murders. People deserve to know the truth. And you've been turning a blind eye," Elena accuses.
Jordan leans forward. "You're treading dangerous waters, Miss Gilbert. Sometimes we make tough choices to keep it safe."
"Tough choices? Like letting a serial killer operate under your nose. Innocent lives are at stake!" Elena counters, glaring at him.
Chief Jordan's knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of his desk. "Why am I wasting my time on you? Facts mean nothing to at all!" his voice rising with each syllable he utters.
"There is one last fact, Captain Jordan, by the end of next week, the killer's going disappear for 21 years. And the way your police have Pioneer Square bottled up, he isn't going to show his face."
"Which face is that, huh? The rotted one of your so-called super killer your newspaper saw fit to print?" Jordan seethes.
"So-called?! I saw that so-called super killer jump off of a 10-story building and run away unscathed," Elena shoots back.
Chief Jordan narrows his eyes on her. "Listen, I don't like you, Miss Gilbert. You have barged around this building making demands. You've stepped on toes, muscled in, pushed, usurped, and generally conducted yourself with all the aplomb of a one-woman Gestapo."
"Gestapo!?" Elena hisses, her face contorting in rage.
"Yes, Gestapo! If I see or hear from you again, for quite some time, I'll personally have you thrown in jail!"
"You have no right!"
"Don't doubt me, Miss Gilbert," He rises to his feet and towers over her.
Elena tightens and curls her lips. She's absolutely enraged but somehow claws back what she wants to say to this insufferable man.
"And I'm telling you to get out! And stay out!" He yells, pointing at his door.
She leans in, her voice low and intense. "At least search the underground. He's probably hiding down there."
"The underground was searched, Nothing at all was found... Martha?" he yells aloud.
"Chief Jordan, is everything alright?" Martha barges into the room, ending the conversation.
Jordan's face reddens. He glances at the officer and then back at Elena.
"Show Miss Gilbert the door!" he bellows.
"Good day, sir," Elena mocks as she leaves the room.
A few hours later, Damon's nursing a glass of bourbon and poring over the case files at his desk. His eyes scan the interviews and photos looking for anything he might have missed when his phone rings.
"Today has been pretty horrible, and I just... I want to see you. I have something I need to tell you," Elena says.
"Come over. I'll cook you dinner, and we'll talk about our crappy days."
"I'll see you shortly. Bye, Damon." she ends the call.
A short while later he hears a rap on the door. He opens it to find Elena standing there and pulls her inside without hesitation.
"You do know there's a serial killer out there, right?"
"I figured I'd be safe with you," she counters playfully as she rises on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Damon smirks and closes the door behind her. "You want to talk about your crappy day?"
Elena shakes her head and mouth finds his again, kissing him hard as she knots her fingers in her hair. They're both breathless when she pulls away. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth as she hands her jacket on the coat rack. He watches as she pulls her shirt over her head before tossing it on the floor. Her chucks go next followed by her jeans. She faces him wearing nothing but pigeon-blood red lingerie.
Damon lifts her into his arms, carries her to his room, and sets her down on the bed. He's about to crawl onto it when she presses her palm to his chest. "Lose the shirt." He shrugs it and his pants off but his attempt to join her on the bed is stopped when she runs her foot down his stomach. "And the pants."
Elena leans back on her elbows as he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants to the floor, leaving him in only his boxer briefs.
The bed dips beneath them as he climbs on top of her to kiss her softly before sliding his mouth lower, sucking and licking down her body until he's staring up at her from between her parted thighs.
Elena's breath hitches when Damon presses a soft kiss to the edge of the lace before dragging them down her legs.
"Oh God," she softly whimpers, bringing her hands to her sides and gripping the sheets beneath her in anticipation. "Please."
Damon covers every sensitive inch with his mouth. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze shut with every swipe, lick, and touch of his tongue. He feels her fingers in his hair and hears a gasp fall from her lips, so he gives her fingers and mouth until her thighs tremble and she collapses back into the pillows, blissfully breathless.
Damon kisses his way back up her body and stares into Elena's eyes. "Listen, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone but there's something you should know before we go any further."
Elena stares at him for a moment. "Please tell me you're not married."
"No," Damon laughs, shaking his head.
"What is it?" Elena asks as she palms his cheek.
"I'm a vampire."
Thank you, everyone.
Chapter title: Creatures of the Night by Kiss.
Wildflowers has been completed.
Have a fabulous day and a wonderful week ahead.