Лиза Смит - The Return - Midnight

“Yes,” Stefan said softly. “I’ll tell them.” But he didn’t move until she actually turned her back on Bonnie and Damon.

After that she peeked over her shoulder and listened.

Stefan sat down by the sobbing girl and said, “Bonnie, can you look at me?

That’s all I want. I promise you, you don’t have to go across that bridge if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to stop crying, but try to look me in the eye. Can you do that? Good. Now…” His voice and even his face changed subtly, becoming more forceful — mesmerizing. “You’re not afraid of heights at all, are you? You’re an acrobat who could walk a tightrope across the Grand Canyon and never turn a hair. You’re the very best of all your family, the flying McCulloughs, and they’re the best in the world. And right now, you’re going to choose whether to cross over that wooden bridge. If so, you’ll lead us. You’ll be our leader.”

Slowly, while listening to Stefan, Bonnie’s face had changed. With swollen eyes fixed on Stefan’s, she seemed to be listening intently to something in her own head.

And finally, as Stefan said the last sentence, she jumped up and looked at the bridge.

“Okay, let’s go!” she cried, picking up her backpack, while Elena sat staring after her.

“Can you make it?” Stefan asked, looking at Elena. “We’ll let her go first — there’s really no way she can fall off. I’ll go after her. Elena can come after me and hold on to my belt, and I’m counting on you, Damon, to hold on to her. Especially if she starts to faint.”

“I’ll hold her,” Damon said quietly. Elena wanted to ask Stefan to Influence her, too, but everything was happening so fast. Bonnie was already on the bridge, only pausing when called back by Stefan. Stefan was looking behind him at Elena, saying, “Can you get a good grip?” Damon was behind Elena, putting a strong hand on her shoulder, and saying, “Look straight ahead, not down. Don’t worry about fainting; I’ll catch you.”

But it was such a frail wooden bridge, and Elena found that she was always looking down and her stomach floated up outside her body and above her head.

She had a death-grip on Stefan’s belt with one hand, and on the woven creeper with the other.

They came to a place where a slat had detached and the slats on either side looked as if they might go at any moment.

“Careful with these!” Bonnie said, laughing and leaping over all three.

Stefan stepped over the first chancy slat, over the missing one, and put his foot on the next.

Crack!

Elena didn’t scream — she was beyond screaming. She couldn’t look. The sound had shut her eyes.

And she couldn’t move. Not a finger. Certainly not a foot.

She felt Damon’s arms around her waist. Both of them. She wanted to let him support her weight as he had many times before.

But Damon was whispering to her, words like spells that allowed her legs to stop shaking and cramping and even let her stop breathing so fast that she might faint.

And then he was lifting her and Stefan’s arms were going around her and for a moment they were both holding her firmly. Then Stefan took her weight and gently put her feet down on firm slats.

Elena wanted to cling to him like a koala, but she knew that she mustn’t. She would make them both fall. So somewhere, from inner depths she didn’t know she had, she found the courage to take her own weight on her feet and fumbled for the creeper.

Then she lifted her head and whispered as loudly as she could, “Go on. We need to give Damon room.”

“Yes,” Stefan whispered back. But he kissed her on the forehead, a quick protective kiss, before he turned and stepped toward the impatient Bonnie.

Behind her, Elena heard — and felt — Damon jumping catlike over the gap.

Elena raised her eyes to stare at the back of Stefan’s head again. She couldn’t compass all the emotions she was feeling at that moment: love, terror, awe, excitement — and, of course, gratitude, all at once.

She didn’t dare turn her head to look at Damon behind her, but she felt exactly the same things for him.

“A few more steps,” he kept saying. “A few more steps.”

A brief eternity later, they were on solid ground, facing a medium-sized cavern, and Elena fell to her knees. She was sick and faint, but she tried to thank Damon as he passed by her on the snowy mountain trail.

“You were in my way,” he said shortly and as coldly as the wind. “If you had fallen you might have upset the entire bridge. And I don’t happen to feel like dying today.”

“What are you saying to her? What did you just say?” Stefan, who had been out of earshot, came hurrying back. “What did he say to you?”

Damon, examining his palm for creeper thorns, said without looking up, “I told her the truth, that’s all. So far she’s zero for two on this quest. Let’s hope that as long as you make it through they let you in the Gatehouse, because if they’re grading on performance we’ve flunked. Or should I say, one of us has flunked?”

“Shut up or I’ll shut you up,” Stefan said in a different voice than Elena had ever heard him use before. She stared. It was as if he’d grown ten years in one second.

“Don’t you ever talk to her or about her that way again, Damon!”

Damon stared at him for a moment, pupils contracted. Then he said, “Whatever,” and strolled away.

Stefan bent down to hold Elena until her shaking stopped.

And that’s that, Elena thought. An ice-cold rage gripped her. Damon had no respect for her at all; he had none for anyone but himself. She couldn’t protect Bonnie from Bonnie’s own feelings — or stop him from insulting her. She couldn’t stop Bonnie for forgiving. But she, Elena, was done with Damon. This last insult was the end.

The fog came in again as they walked through the cavern.

“Damon doesn’t mean to be such a — a bastard,” Bonnie said explosively. “He’s just — so often he feels like it’s the three of us against him — and — and—”

“Well, who started that? Even back riding the thurgs,” Stefan said.

“I know, but there’s something else,” Bonnie said humbly. “Since it’s only snow and rock and ice — he’s — I don’t know. He’s all tight. Something’s wrong.”

“He’s hungry,” Elena said, stricken by a sudden realization. Since the thurgs there had been nothing for the two vampires to hunt. They couldn’t exist, like foxes, on insects and mice. Of course Lady Ulma had provided plenty of Black Magic for them, the only thing that even resembled a substitute for blood. But their supply was dwindling, and of course, they had to think of the trip back, as well.

Suddenly Elena knew what would do her good.

“Stefan,” she murmured, pulling him into a nook in the craggy stone of the cave entrance. She pushed off her hood and unrolled her scarf enough to expose one side of her neck. “Don’t make me say ‘please’ too many times,” she whispered to him. “I can’t wait that long.”

Stefan looked into her eyes, saw that she was serious — and determined — and kissed one of her mittened hands.

“It’s been long enough now, I think — no, I’m sure, or I would never even attempt this,” he whispered. Elena tipped her head back. Stefan stood between her and the wind and she was almost warm. She felt the little initial pain and then Stefan was drinking and their minds slid together like two raindrops on a glass window.

He took very little blood. Just enough to make the difference in his eyes between still green pools and sparkling, effervescent streams.

But then his gaze went still again. “Damon…” he said, and paused awkwardly.