Лиза Смит - The Return - Nightfall

“It may take some groveling from all of us,” Meredith said. “But meanwhile I want to make sure that this ‘angel unaware’ recognizes me.”

With an expression of tranquil sophistication, she took Elena out of Stefan’s arms and into her own, and then she kissed her.

Unfortunately, this coincided with Caroline stalking out of the bathroom. The bottom of her face was paler than the top, having been denuded of all makeup: lipstick, bronzer, blush, the works. She stopped dead and stared.

“I don’t believe it,” she said in scathing tones. “You’re still doing it! It’s dis—”

“Caroline.” Stefan’s voice was a warning.

“I came here to see Elena.” Caroline — beautiful, lithe, bronze-limbed Caroline — was twisting her hands together as if in terrible conflict. “The old Elena. And what do I see? She’s like a baby — she can’t talk. She’s like some smirking guru floating in the air. And now she’s like some kind of perverted—”

“Don’t finish that,” Stefan said quietly but firmly. “I told you, she ought to be over the first symptoms in just a few days, to judge by her progress so far,” he added.

And he was different, somehow, Bonnie thought. Not just happier to have gotten Elena back. He was…stronger somehow at the core of himself. Stefan had always been quiet inside; her powers sensed him as a pool of clear water. Now she saw that same clear water built up like a tsunami.

What could have changed Stefan so much?

The answer came to her immediately, although in the form of a wondering question. Elena was still part spirit — Bonnie’s intuition told her that. What did it do if you drank the blood of someone who was in that state?

“Caroline, let’s just drop it,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry for — you know. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry. Oh, that makes everything all right then, doesn’t it?” Caroline’s voice was pure acid, and she turned her back on Bonnie with finality. Bonnie was surprised to feel the sting of tears behind her eyes.

Elena and Meredith still had their arms around each other, their cheeks wet with the other’s tears. They were looking at each other and Elena was beaming.

“Now she’ll know you anywhere,” Stefan told Meredith. “Not just your face, but — well, the inside of you, too, or the shape of it, at least. I should have mentioned that before this started, but I’m the only one she’s ‘met,’ and I didn’t realize—”

“You should have realized!” Caroline was pacing like a tiger.

“So you kissed a girl, so what?” Bonnie exploded. “What do you think, you’re going to grow a beard now?”

As if powered by the conflict around her, Elena suddenly took off. All at once she was zipping around the room as if she’d been shot from a cannon; her hair crackled with electricity when she made sudden stops or turns. She soared around the room twice, and as she was silhouetted against the dusty old window, Bonnie thought,Oh, my God! We’ve got to get her some clothes! She looked at Meredith and saw that Meredith had shared her realization. Yes, they had to get Elena clothes — and most especially underclothes.

As Bonnie moved toward Elena, as shyly as if she’d never been kissed before, Caroline exploded.

“You just keep doing it and doing it and doing it!” She was practically screeching by now, Bonnie thought. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any morals at all?”

This, unfortunately, caused another case of the don’t-laugh-don’t-laugh choked giggles in Bonnie and Meredith. Even Stefan turned away sharply, his gallantry toward a guest clearly fighting a losing battle.

Not just a guest, Bonnie thought, but a girl he’d gone pret-ty darn far with, as Caroline hadn’t been shy about letting people know when she’d gotten her hands on him. About as far as vampires could go, Bonnie remembered, which was not the whole way. Something about the blood-sharing substituting for — well, for Doing It. But he wasn’t the only one Caroline had bragged about. Caroline was infamous.

Bonnie glanced at Elena, saw that Elena was watching Caroline with a strange expression. Not as if Elena were afraid of her, but rather as if Elena were deeply worried about her.

“Are you all right?” Bonnie whispered. To her surprise, Elena nodded, then looked at Caroline and shook her head. She carefully looked Caroline up and down and her expression was that of a puzzled doctor examining a very sick patient.

Then she floated toward Caroline, one hand extended.

Caroline shied away, as if she were disgusted to have Elena touch her. No, not disgusted, Bonnie thought, but frightened.

“How do I know what she’ll do next?” Caroline snapped, but Bonnie knew that wasn’t the real reason for her fear. What do we have going on here? she wondered. Elena afraid for Caroline, and Caroline afraid of Elena. What does that equal?

Bonnie’s psychic senses were giving her goose flesh. There was something wrong with Caroline, she felt, something she’d never encountered before. And the air…it was thickening somehow, as if it were building up to a thunderstorm.

Caroline made a sharp turn to keep her face averted from Elena’s. She moved behind a chair.

“Just keep her freakin’ away from me, all right? I won’t let her touch me again—” she began, when Meredith changed the whole situation with two quiet words.

“What did you say to me?” Caroline said, staring.

Damon was driving aimlessly when he saw the girl.

She was alone, walking down the side of the street, her titian hair blowing in the wind, her arms weighted down by packages.

Damon immediately did the chivalrous thing. He let the car glide to a stop, waited for the girl to take a few striding paces to catch up with him — che gambe! — and then jumped out and hastened to open the passenger side door for her.

Her name, as it turned out, was Damaris.

In moments the Ferrari was back on the road, going so fast that Damaris’s titian hair was flowing behind her like a banner. She was a young woman who fully merited the kind of trance-inducing compliments he’d been handing out freely all day — which was a good thing, he thought laconically, because his imagination was very nearly drained dry.

But flattering this lovely creature, with her nimbus of red-gold hair and her pure, milky skin, wouldn’t take any imagination at all. He didn’t expect any trouble from her, and he planned to keep her overnight.

Veni, vidi, vici,Damon thought, and flashed a wicked smile into the middle distance. And then he amended — Well, perhaps I haven’t conquered yet, but I’d bet my Ferrari on it.

They stopped by a “scenic view roundabout” and when Damaris had dropped her purse and bent to pick it up, he’d seen the nape of her neck, where those fine titian hairs were startlingly delicate against the whiteness of her skin.

He’d kissed it immediately, impulsively, finding it as soft as a baby’s skin — and warm against his lips. He’d allowed her complete freedom of action, interested to see whether she would slap him, but instead she had just straightened up and taken a few shaky breaths before allowing him to take her in his arms to be kissed into a trembling, heated, uncertain creature, her dark blue eyes entreating and trying to resist at the same time.

“I — shouldn’t have let you do that. I won’t let you again. I want to go home now.”

Damon smiled. His Ferrari was safe.

Her ultimate yielding would be particularly pleasant, he thought as they continued their drive. If she shaped up as well as she seemed to be doing, he might even keep her a few days, might even Change her.

Now, though, he was bothered by an inexplicable disquiet inside. It was Elena, of course. Being so close to her at the boardinghouse and not daring to demand to go to her, because of what he might do. Oh, hell, what I should have done already, he thought with a sudden vehemence. Stefan was right — there was something wrong with him today.