Chapter 9
The walk back to the car was much faster than their trip into the woods. Damon practically dragged her out, as if he was afraid Stefan would come after the grimoire. Gwen's shins hit several logs as she tried to keep pace with him. She groaned, realizing they'd be very bruised tomorrow.
When they finally reached the car, she was out of breath and sweaty despite the cool night air. Her legs burned in protest as she almost stumbled to the passenger's side of the car. If she hadn't been so distracted, Gwen might have been concerned about how quiet Damon had been since leaving Stefan and Elena in the woods. However, she was too preoccupied by how nice it was to sit and catch her breath to notice. Gwen was so happy to be driving away from the woods and the open grave that she ignored the squealing of tires as they sped away.
"Open the book," Damon instructed after about five minutes driving, "and see if you can find anything about the tomb."
His voice was strained from trying to bury his hurt and anger. But Gwen could still hear an edge and knew one wrong word would push him to his breaking point. Too tired to even want to talk about what happened, she opened the spell book without a word.
Gwen took out her cell phone so that she could actually see the pages. She got the feeling that this book was very old; older than Damon even. Given how the handwriting changed as she progressed through it, she figured it must have been passed down from one generation to the next. Some of it was even written in a language she didn't recognize.
"Find it yet?" Damon snapped.
"No," she said slowly, momentarily forgetting his temper. "There's a lot here and I'm not sure what I'm looking for…. It might not even be in English."
Damon mumbled something about looking faster, but Gwen didn't hear him. She was too engrossed in the grimoire. In fact, she wished she had more time to study it. More of what she was finding was in English and the writings seemed to be a mix of spells, ways to cure different ailments, reflections, stories, possibly even the histories of the writers. It would have been fascinating to read through if she hadn't had an impatient vampire breathing down her neck.
"I think this might be it," she said, focusing her flashlight on one of the last entries in the book. The word "tomb" had caught her eye but, as she read, she realized it was the spell to close the tomb. Still hopeful, Gwen shifted the light to the next entry.
"This is it," she confirmed a moment later. "Bottom of the page, five pages from the back."
"What's it say?"
"There's some stuff here about how to prepare for it, but the actual spell isn't in English."
"Of course," Damon muttered.
A silence fell between them: Damon lost in his thoughts and Gwen focused on the spell in question. Her finger traced the inked script across the rough parchment. Without realizing it, she began silently mouthing the words of the first line, as if figuring out the pronunciation of the words would help her understand them.
Damon was too distracted by his plans to notice that she had gone from quietly perusing the book to mumbling nonsense under her breath. If he had, he probably would have stopped her. After all, he understood the dangers of messing with a witch's grimoire. But, as usual, he was too absorbed in freeing Katherine to pay attention to anything else.
As Gwen finished her slightly mangled reading of the line, several things happened at once. There was something like a spark between her fingers and the words on the page. At the same time, her wristband tightened and she was stuck with a blinding headache. The pain in her head seemed to last forever. Through the pain, she could hear Damon shouting at her but couldn't tell what he was saying. It was as if he was several yards away.
Then, just as she felt she was going to pass out, the pain stopped.
As she calmed down, Gwen realized she was holding her head in hands and her eyes were wet. Drying them, she sat up in the chair and took deep breaths. The pain hadn't been all that she'd experienced. She'd seen things. Flashes of women from a different times practicing magic or being killed for it. The worst had been a witch writhing on the ground in pain as she was consumed by some kind of black force as others watched on and chanted.
She felt her heart begin to race again as she remembered that scene and forced herself to stop thinking about it. It probably wasn't even real, she told herself. However, she knew that if witches and vampires were real, then so was whatever she had just experienced.
"What was that?" Damon asked. She could tell he was looking at her and was thankful she couldn't see his expression.
"I don't know," she said, closing the book in what she hoped was a subtle manner. "It was almost like a brain freeze."
"That was a pretty intense brain freeze," he commented and Gwen could hear the skepticism. "Especially since you weren't consuming anything that was cold."
"Just take me home. I'm supposed to be home at eight."
Damon let it drop for now, leaving Gwen to wonder about what she had seen and what it meant. They didn't speak again until Damon pulled up to her house.
"Leave the grimoire," he instructed said as she was gathering her things.
Gwen was all too happy to leave it behind. She checked her bag to make sure she had the Gilbert journal. She would have to figure out how to return it to Ric without being caught. Plus, she wanted Jeremy to get it back. It seemed like it was important to him.
She opened the door and was about to get out when he stopped her.
"Don't forget, part of our deal is that we find out what you are and you don't lie to me," he said, watching her for a reaction to his unspoken threat.
"I know what the deal is, Damon," she said. Her tone unusually cold. "When there's something to tell, I'll tell it."
Gwen slammed the door before he could say anything else and walked quickly to her door. She listened as he backed up out of the driveway, relaxing as the car drove away. She was going to have to break her promise with Damon, just a little. Something, a gut feeling maybe, was telling her to not share what she'd experienced with him. She would have to come up with a convincing lie before she saw him again.
She'd been hoping to get to her room without running into Ric. But this wasn't her night.
"Mind telling me why Damon Salvatore is dropping you off?"
He'd been in his office, which faced the front of the house, and had been able to see everything through his window. She stalled for time by pretending to fix something on her bag, mentally chiding herself for not having Damon drop her at the street corner.
"A bunch of us were at the Grill," she said, hoping he hadn't been there earlier. "I wasn't feeling well and Damon offered to drive me home when I said I would walk."
Ric's face was unreadable, which put Gwen on edge. She tried to keep a nonchalant manner as she kicked off her shoes and hung up her coat, deciding to act as if his reaction wasn't freaking her out. When his silence continued, she decided he must believe her but was still upset about it being Damon who had brought her home. As her panic passed, her stomach growled, prompting her to go to the kitchen.
It was late and she didn't feel like putting in a lot of effort, so Gwen decided to make a sandwich. She groaned when she heard the scratch of Ric's desk chair and his steps as he came to lean against the doorframe. The look of disappointment told her he hadn't believe her story.
"Are you going to tell me what's really going on?" he asked, his voice too calm.
Gwen couldn't tell if he knew what she was really doing with Damon or if he just thought he did. Either way, her best option was to play dumb.
"What do you mean?" she asked, continuing to assemble her sandwich.
He sighed; disappointment growing. Then he changed tactics. "I seem to have misplaced a journal. It belongs to Jeremy. It's old; made of leather. You haven't seen it, have you?"
If Ric thought he was a good actor, he was wrong. His careful facade of casualness didn't completely cover the accusation in his voice.
"Nope. Where'd you see it last?"
"Cut it out, Gwen," he snapped, losing his temper. Gwen's hands faltered a moment; startled by the sudden change. But she finished her making her dinner and turned to face him. "I know you're lying."
"Well that makes two of us, doesn't it?" she challenged.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a bewildered look on his face. She may not have covered her tracks well with Damon, but he'd never figured out she'd gone snooping through his research.
"Were you ever going to tell me the real reason we moved here?" She folded her arms and leaned against the counter as she watched his eyes widen in surprise before he regained his composure.
"They offered me a job — that I needed."
"So that's a no," Gwen sighed.
She knelt down and dug the journal out of her bag. She tossed it to him and he caught it out of reflex. His bewildered look growing as he realized what she'd thrown at him. Gwen could see his mind racing to figure out what she knew. She could end this now. Stop lying and have an honest conversation about Isobel, Damon, and vampires. But she was too annoyed at being called a lair by him, who'd been lying to her for far longer than she'd been to him, to be mature. Instead, she picked up her bag, grabbed her food, and walked passed him.
"When you're ready to tell me what's going on with you, I'll tell you what's going on with me," she called down as she ascended the stairs.
Unsurprisingly, Ric didn't follow her.
Even though they were both up for a few more hours, Gwen and Ric did not speak to each other again that evening. A few times, she heard him pause at her door. Each time he'd sigh and walk away again. Gwen was relieved. She wasn't ready to have a mature conversation either. She had no desire to tell him about the deal she made with Damon. As far as she could figure, there was no way to spin that in a positive light. It'd be best for everyone if that stayed secret a little longer. Gwen was so dedicated to avoiding Ric that she left her plate on her desk when she was finished eating rather than risk facing him on a trip to a kitchen. She even waited until an hour after he'd gone to bed to take a shower — which was badly needed after a night of blindly trekking through the woods.
Though she certainly felt cleaner after showering, it hadn't done anything to calm her. Gwen could not stop herself from thinking about what had happened to her in Damon's car. Upon reflection, she thought the memories, or whatever they were, were rather disjointed. From what she could recall, much of what she'd seen had been somewhat related. She was sure it must have been flashes from Bonnie's ancestors, as if their grimoire had captured brief echoes of their lives. The scene that disturbed her the most, the one that was the least gory but still somehow chilling, was the one of girl lying alone in the center of a circle and seemingly being attacked by some kind of black smoke.
Gwen couldn't explain why that one bothered her so much. Every time she remembered or tried to make it clearer in her mind, a chill ran through her. She was almost certain it had nothing to do with Bonnie's family, though. Something about it felt different than the other echoes.
Gwen sighed as she slid under the covers, thinking she must be losing her mind. The book was probably just cursed to mess with anyone who tried to use it and wasn't a Bennett. The thought, however, didn't comfort her as she tossed and turned, unable to quiet her mind.
Around two in the morning, she gave up on sleeping and grabbed her iPod from her bed. Gwen hoped the music would drown out her thoughts so she could finally get some sleep. She was absently tracing the symbols on her wristband when she froze.
The band had squeezed her wrist when she was seeing those echoes. Actually, she'd felt the pressure the exact moment when she saw the one of the girl. It'd been subtle compared to the pain in her head, but she had felt it. At least, Gwen was pretty sure she had. She huffed in frustration as she tossed onto her side to face the window. Questions she couldn't answered swirled around in a dizzying jumble in her mind. The only person she could ask about this was Damon, but she doubted he had the answers.
As she finally drifted to sleep around sunrise, Gwen realized she did know of someone who could help her. She just couldn't be sure they would.
Gwen woke up after ten later that morning and was surprised Ric had let her sleep for so long. Especially, after their fight from last night. Then she remembered that Ric had brunch plans with Jenna. He hadn't let her sleep out of kindness. He simply didn't have the time to wake her up and have a discussion before he had to go. Gwen took a moment to be grateful for Jenna's existence and then forced herself out of bed. If she was going to try to get answers, she needed to leave before Ric returned home.
With the only light source being what peaked in through the curtains, she stumbled over to her dresser where she dug through her drawer for an appropriate running outfit. Gwen finally found her winter running gear tucked into the bottom drawer. She didn't particularly enjoy running, but it would be the fastest way for her to get across town. After dressing, she brushed her teeth and put her hair up in a ponytail. It didn't make sense for her to worry too much about her presentation. She did hope she'd be forgiven for her sweaty appearance.
Stepping back into her room, Gwen paused. She didn't have a small bag to carry her phone, house key, and iPod. Her pants had a small pocket that would keep the key secure, but Gwen really didn't want to worry about her phone flying out of the shallow pocket on her running jacket. At least she could hold the iPod. After another moment of internal debate, Gwen picked up her iPod and key. It wasn't the end of the world to be without her phone for an hour or two.
The cold air went through her clothes as if they weren't even there when she stepped onto the front porch. Gwen fought the urge to go back inside and curl up under a blanket while she locked the door, reminding herself that it wouldn't feel so bad once she started running. Plus, if she was lucky, she would only be running for forty-five minutes. Gwen could survive the cold for forty-minutes, especially if it got her answers.
She took off, hoping it wasn't too early and Bonnie's grandmother wouldn't be put off by her random appearance.
Gwen had only met Shelia Bennett once when she'd gone with Caroline to pick up Bonnie for a night out. The conversation had, of course, been casual. Gwen doubted the woman would remember her. But she remembered Caroline saying she taught about the occult at a nearby college and often referred to herself as a witch. Gwen hoped Shelia would be able to help. During her tossing and turning, she'd remembered the weird incident with Bonnie at Halloween. She was starting to get the feeling that, despite Caroline's jokes, Shelia may not be exaggerating her family's ties to the supernatural.
It took her almost an hour, but Gwen finally reached Bonnie's grandmother's house. It was one in a long line of single-story homes. But, thankfully, they were older homes so they were each different enough that you could tell them apart, unlike the newer cookie-cutter style home she lived in with Ric. Shelia's house was painted a blue-gray color and trimmed in white. The front yard, which wasn't big, was full of flower beds and pots. Gwen was sure it was beautiful in the spring and summer. Right now, it was pretty barren except for a few year-round plans.
Gwen had slowed to a walk when she'd rounded the corner onto the street. Still trying to get her breathing under control and muscles burning, she walked up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. Nervous, she paced back and forth. Gwen hadn't thought about what she would say if Shelia actually agreed to speak to her — and didn't think she was insane. The squeak of metal alerted her to the door opening. She stopped pacing, turned around, and was surprised to find herself face-to-face with Bonnie.
Upon seeing Gwen, Bonnie's expression changed from one of relaxation to one of dislike. Great, Gwen thought, Elena had filled her in on the events from last night.
"What are you doing here?" Bonnie demanded.
"I need to talk to your grandmother," Gwen explained. Still a little winded, her voice was breathier than she would have liked.
"And why should she help you?" Bonnie folded her arms as she glared at Gwen, who fought the urge to roll her eyes at this act of righteousness. She'd dealt with worse.
"Because I saw something when I touched Emily Bennett's grimoire. I figured if anyone can make sense of it, she can."
Gwen's bluntness had the desired effect as she watched Bonnie's mouth opened in surprise. It was as if she had short-circuited, unable to find a retort that could cover her curiosity about what had Gwen might have seen. Gwen bit her lip to stop herself from smirking in satisfaction.
"Let her in Bonnie," a voice said from somewhere behind Bonnie. A moment later, Shelia appeared in the doorway, looking grim. "There's a lot we need to talk about."
AN: Hope you liked and that everyone is doing all right!
