Лиза Смит - The Return - Midnight

What do you really need ten whole fingers for, anyway?

Oh, well, he thought, turning to go back into the front door. As long as he livedwhich, conceded, might not be too long — he would remember this moment.

As he went in, he bumped into Bonnie, who was rushing out.

“Oh, Matt, oh, Matt,” she cried. She was looking wildly around. “Did you hurt him?

Did he hurt you?”

Matt smacked his fist into the palm of his hand, once. “He’s still sitting down back there,” he added helpfully.

“Oh, no!” Bonnie gasped, and she hurried out the door.

Okay. Less spectacular of a night. But still a pretty good one.

“They did what?” Elena asked Stefan. Cold poultices anchored by tight bandages were wrapped around her arm, hand, and thigh — Mrs. Flowers had cut her jeans off short — and Mrs. Flowers was wiping away the dried blood on her neck with herbs.

Her heart was pounding with more than pain. Even she hadn’t realized that Stefan was tuned in to the entire house when he was awake. All she could do was to shakily thank God that he’d been asleep while she and Damon — no! She had to stop thinking about it, and right now!

“They went outside to fight,” Stefan said. “It’s idiotic, of course. But it’s a matter of honor, too. I can’t interfere.”

“Well, I can — if you’re done, Mrs. Flowers.”

“Yes, dear Elena,” Mrs. Flowers said, winding a bandage around Elena’s throat.

“Now you shouldn’t get tetanus.”

Elena stopped in mid-motion. “I thought you got tetanus from rusty blades,” she said. “Da — this one looked brand-new.”

“Tetanus comes from dirty blades, my dear,” Mrs. Flowers corrected her. “But this”—she held up a bottle—“is Grandmama’s own personal recipe that has kept many a wound disease-free down the cen — down the years.”

“Wow,” Elena said. “I never even heard of Grandmama before. Was she ahealer?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Flowers said earnestly. “She was actually accused of being a witch. But at her trial they could prove nothing. Her accusers seemed not even to be capable of coherent speech.”

Elena looked at Stefan only to find that he was looking at her. Matt was in danger of being dragged off to a kangaroo court — for allegedly assaulting Caroline Forbes while under the influence of some unknown and terrible drug. Anything to do with courts was interesting to both of them. But looking at Stefan’s concerned face, Elena decided not to pursue the subject. She squeezed his hand. “We have to go now — but let’s talk about Grandmama later. I think she sounds fascinating.”

“I just remember her as a crotchety old recluse, who didn’t suffer fools gladly and thought just about everyone was a fool,” Mrs. Flowers said. “I suppose I was going down the same path until you children came and made me sit up and take notice.

Thank you.”

“We’re the ones who should thank you,” Elena began, hugging the old woman, feeling her heart stop pounding. Stefan was looking at her with open love. It was all going to be all right — for her.

I’m worried about Matt, she thought to Stefan, testing the waters more vigorously. Damon’s still so fast — and you know he doesn’t like Matt a bit.

I think, Stefan returned with a wry smile, that that is a rather stunning understatement. But I also think you shouldn’t worry until we see who comes back injured.

Elena eyed that smile, and thought for a moment about impulsive, athletic Matt.

After a moment, she smiled back. She was feeling both guilty and protective — and safe. Stefan always made her feel safe. And right now, she wanted to spoil him.

In the front yard, Bonnie was abasing herself. She couldn’t help thinking, even now, about how handsome Damon looked, how wild and dark and ferocious and gorgeous. She couldn’t help thinking about the times he’d smiled at her, laughed at her, come to save her at her urgent call. She had honestly thought that someday…

But now she felt as if her heart were breaking in two.

“I just want to bite my tongue out,” she said. “I should never have assumed anything from what I saw.”

“How could you possibly have known that I wasn’t stealing Elena away from Stefan?” Damon said wearily. “It’s just the kind of thing I’d do.”

“No, it isn’t! You did so much to free Stefan from prison — you always faced the most danger yourself — and you kept us all from being hurt. You did all that for other people—” Suddenly Bonnie’s upper arms were being held by hands that were so strong that her mind was flooded with clichés. A grasp of iron. Strong as steel bands. An inescapable grip.

And a voice like an icy torrent was coming at her.

“You don’t know anything about me, or what I want, or what I do. For all you know I could be plotting right now. So don’t ever let me hear you talk again about such things, or imagine that I won’t kill you if you get in my way,” Damon said.

He got up and left Bonnie sitting there, staring after him. And she’d been wrong.

She wasn’t out of tears at all.

“I thought you wanted to get out so we could talk to Damon,” Stefan said, still hand in hand with Elena as she made a sharp right turn onto the rickety stairway that led to the second-floor rooms and, above that, to Stefan’s attic.

“Well, unless he kills Matt and runs I don’t see what’s to keep us from talking to him tomorrow.” Elena glanced back at Stefan and dimpled. “I took your advice and thought a little about the two of them. Matt’s a pretty tough quarterback and they’re both only human now, right? Anyway, it’s time for your dinner.”

“Dinner?” Stefan’s canine teeth responded automatically — embarrassingly quickly — to the word. He really needed to have a word with Damon later and make sure Damon understood his place as a guest at the boardinghouse — nothing more — but it was true, he could do that tomorrow. It might even be more effective tomorrow, when Damon’s own pent-up rage was spent.

He pressed his tongue against his fangs, trying to force them back down, but the small stimulation caused them to sharpen, nicking his lip. Now they were aching pleasantly. All in response to a single word: dinner.

Elena threw him a teasing glance over her shoulder and giggled. She was one of those lucky females with a beautiful laugh. But this was a clearly mischievous giggle, straight from her wicked, scheming childhood. It made Stefan want to tickle her to hear more; it made him want to laugh with her; it made him want to grab her and demand to know the joke. Instead he said, “What’s up, love?”

“Someone has sharp teeth,” she responded innocently, and giggled again. He lost himself in admiration for a second and also suddenly lost hold of her hand.

Laughing like a musical cascade of white water over rock, she ran up the stairs ahead of him, both to tease and to show him what good shape she was in, he thought. If she had stumbled, or faltered, she knew he would decide that her donation of blood was harming her.

So far it didn’t seem to be damaging any of his friends, or he would have insisted on a rest for that person. But even Bonnie, as delicate as a dragonfly, hadn’t seemed to be the worse for it.

Elena raced up the stairs knowing that Stefan was smiling behind her, and there was no shadow of mistrust in his mind. She didn’t deserve it, but that only made her more anxious to please him.

“Have you had your dinner?” Stefan asked as they reached his room.

“Long ago; roast beef — cooked.” She smiled.

“What did Damon say when he finally realized it was you and looked at the food you’d brought?”

Elena made herself giggle again. It was all right to have tears in her eyes; her burns and cuts hurt and the episode with Damon justified any amount of weeping.