Destiny Rising (24 page)

Chapter 40

I
ce cubes clinked lightly in his glass as Damon raised it in a toast to Katherine. “Here’s to you, darling,” he said. “The last survivor of Klaus’s army. Lucky that you missed the battle, isn’t it?”

With a sly smile, Katherine fluttered her eyelashes expressively, taking a sip of her own drink, and patted the sofa cushion next to her, inviting Damon to sit.

“Thank you for warning me,” she said. “I may have been indebted to Klaus for bringing me back, but I didn’t think I owed him another death. I never had any intention of fighting you and your precious princess again. I may be older and stronger than you, but there’s always been too much luck on your side.”

“Not
my
precious princess,” Damon said with a grimace. “Stefan’s. She was never really mine.”

“Oh, well,” Katherine said lightly, “I think it’s always been a little more complicated than that, hasn’t it?”

Damon narrowed his eyes. “You knew about Elena being a Guardian, didn’t you?” he demanded. “And you never told Klaus. Why?”

A small, slightly smug smile crossed Katherine’s face. “You should have learned by now that you can never ask a girl to give up all her secrets. And I’m full of secrets. Always.” Damon frowned. He had never been able to get Katherine to tell him anything she didn’t want to.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Damon rose and opened the door to find Elena herself outside. Her face was pale and strained, and her jewel-blue eyes seemed huge as they stared at each other. Damon cocked an eyebrow and threw her his most brilliant smile, refusing to acknowledge the tremor of nervousness that ran through him.

She cared for him—he knew that. He’d tried to throw that fact back in her face, to deny it, and it hadn’t worked. But there was also something in her that was driving her toward
killing
him, her Guardian’s task pushing for fulfillment. Ever since he had saved her in the elevator, he had been able to feel that Elena was holding herself back. And he still loved her, would probably always love her. Part of him wanted to bow his head before her, take the punishment she was duty-bound to give him.

And whatever happened to him, he would probably deserve it.

Elena looked past him at Katherine and paled even further, although he wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Damon turned and found that Katherine was standing absolutely still just a few feet away, looking back at Elena with a faint, secretive smile.

“So now you know,” Katherine said to Elena. “And you’re smart enough to use it.”

“Did you know? Back when we first met?” Elena asked her abruptly, as if the words had been jerked out of her against her will.

Katherine shook her head. “You learn a lot when you’re dead sometimes,” she said, the faint smile spreading.

“Know what?” Damon said, looking back and forth between them.

Katherine came closer, trailing her fingers lightly across Damon’s arm. “Like I said,” she told him, “a girl has to have her secrets.” She winked at Elena. “I’m going to leave town for a little while. I think it’s better if I keep out of your way from now on.”

Elena nodded. “You’re probably right. Good-bye, Katherine,” she said. “And thank you.”

A flash of humor crossed Katherine’s face. “Right back at you,” she said, and for a moment, the resemblance between them struck Damon more strongly than it ever had before.

Then Elena, all business now, turned to Damon. “It’s time for us to face the Guardians. Are you ready?” she asked him.

Damon downed the rest of his drink quickly, then slammed the glass down on his polished steel coffee table, and inwardly cursed his vampiric tolerance for alcohol. It might have been easier, he thought, to face what was coming if he had been a little bit drunk. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he drawled.

Bonnie sniffed at the rich and varied scents as she turned over her store of herbs.

“Where does this one go?” Matt asked her, holding up a bag of purple petals.

“That’s aconite. It’s used for protection,” Bonnie replied. “Put it over there with the dogwood and agrimony.”

“Got it,” Matt said, placing the aconite in a neat pile amidst the other herbs, as if it was the most normal task.

For their lives, it was pretty much as close to normal as it got. She was low on a bunch of herbs, unsurprisingly, after all the spells for protection and strength she had been performing in the past few weeks. She would have to drive down to Fell’s Church soon and ask Mrs. Flowers to help her restock her supplies, now that things were quiet.

She wriggled with pleasure at the thought of a nice, normal visit home. It was so
good
to feel safe; it had been such a long time since she had.

Meredith and Elena were both out, and Bonnie had taken advantage of the room and the time without them to spread out piles of dried and fresh herbs all across the floor. Her best friends were both total neat freaks and would doubtless complain about the fragrant dust and crumbled bits of leaves this would leave behind. It was just
amazing
to worry about something as ordinary as what Meredith would say when she stepped in the remains of a pile of celandine (which was useful for happiness and aided in escaping entrapments).

Almost
amazing. There was a steady ache inside her these days, a reminder of what she had lost, one that couldn’t be cured by any herb. But she wasn’t the only one who was in pain.

“I think you’re really brave, Matt,” Bonnie said. Matt looked up at her, startled by the abrupt shift in the conversation.

“When life hands you lemons . . .” Matt drifted off, not even able to complete the halfhearted joke. She knew he was devastated by losing Chloe, but he never let it change him. Bonnie admired that.

Before she could tell him as much, there was a knock at the door, and she tensed. An unexpected tap at the door usually meant disaster.

Nevertheless, she got up and opened the door, managing at the last minute to stop herself from kicking a little pile of chinaberry seeds (for luck and change) into Elena’s slippers.

Slouched against her door frame, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, was Zander. He smiled at her tentatively. “Can I come in?” he asked.

He smelled so
good
, she thought
.
He looked gorgeous, too, and Bonnie just wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on. She had missed him so much lately.

But she’d lost the right to grab on to Zander whenever she felt like it; she’d been the one to walk away. So instead of leaping into his arms, Bonnie just stepped back to let him in, feeling some kind of powdery leaves crumble under her bare heel.

“Oh, hey, Matt,” Zander said as he stepped into the room, and then pulled up short, his eyes widening as he took in the little heaps of herbs on every available surface.

“Hey, Zander,” Matt said. “I was just heading out, actually. Football practice.”

Matt gave Bonnie a pointed look that said,
Don’t screw up a second chance.
Bonnie smiled at her friend as he slipped out the door.

“Jeez,” Zander said, impressed as he explored more of the room. Bonnie followed him. “Meredith is going to
murder
you. Do you want help cleaning this up?”

“Um.” Bonnie looked around. Now that she saw the room through Zander’s eyes, it looked much worse than she’d realized. “Wow. Maybe, yeah. But I know that’s not why you’re here. What’s up?”

Zander took Bonnie’s hand and together they carefully navigated their way through the room without knocking over any piles. When they finally arrived at her bed, which was probably the clearest surface in the room—she didn’t like the smell of mixed herbs all over her sheets—they sat down and he took her hands in his big, warm ones.

“Listen, Bonnie,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, that being Alpha to the Pack is such an important responsibility, and that I need another werewolf by my side who really understands that, to be my partner and help me. And you’re right. Shay’s perfect for that.”

“Oh,” Bonnie said, her voice tiny. Something was crumbling inside her, as fragile as a dead leaf. She tried to gently pull her hands away from Zander’s, but he tightened his grip.

“No,” he said, distressed. “I’m saying this wrong. Let me start over. Bonnie, look at me.” She looked up, her vision clouded with tears, and met Zander’s sea-blue eyes. “You, Bonnie,” he said softly. “I love
you
. When we were fighting Klaus’s army, I saw you casting spells to protect everyone, with this fierce kind of light in your face. You were so strong, and so powerful, and you could have been
killed.
Or I could have been killed, and we wouldn’t have been together at the end. It made me realize what I should have known all along: you’re the only one I want.”

The crumbling thing in Bonnie’s chest stopped its dry disintegration and began to melt instead, filling her with warmth. But she couldn’t let Zander sacrifice the good of his Pack for her. “But nothing’s changed,” she said at last. “I love you, too, but what if loving me destroys everything else that matters to you?”

Zander pulled her closer. “It won’t,” he said. “The wolves on the Council can’t choose who I love. I don’t love Shay. I love
you.
Shay and I can lead the Pack together, but if it ever came down to it, I would rather lose that than lose you.” He raised Bonnie’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes shining. “I can choose my own destiny,” he said. “And I choose
you
. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you?” Bonnie choked on her tears, wiped at her eyes, and then punched Zander softly in the shoulder. “You dork,” she said lovingly, and kissed him.

Chapter 41

“
A
re you sure this will do what we need?” Elena asked Bonnie. They’d chosen Stefan’s spacious, uncluttered single to summon the Principal Guardian. When Elena had called Bonnie, she’d come right up, her hand held tightly in Zander’s. She looked so happy, but when she handed Damon the potion she’d made for him, her small face creased with anxiety.

“I think so,” she said. “The valerian will slow his heart rate even more than usual, and the aconite ought to make his breathing really shallow. It will probably feel pretty weird,” she told Damon, “but I don’t think it’ll hurt you.”

Damon looked down at the thick green mixture in the cup. “Of course it won’t,” he said reassuringly. “You can’t poison a vampire.”

“I put honey in to make it taste better,” Bonnie said.

“Thank you, redbird,” Damon said, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Whether this plan works or not, I’m grateful.” Bonnie grinned, a little flustered, and he added, “You and your wolf had better go. We wouldn’t want the Guardians to think you were involved.” Zander and Damon nodded to each other and Zander took Bonnie’s hand again.

When they left, it was just the three of them: Elena, Damon, and Andrés. Stefan had wanted to come, to stand by his brother’s side in what might be Damon’s last moments, but Damon hadn’t let him.
An angry Guardian is dangerous,
he’d said. And, at best, Mylea would be very angry.

Damon drank Bonnie’s potion in one long swallow and grimaced. “The honey doesn’t help that much,” he commented. Elena hugged him and he gently rubbed her back. “Whatever happens, it’s not your fault,” he said. Then he shuddered and leaned back against the wall, pressing one hand against his chest. “Ugh,” he said faintly. “I don’t feel . . .” His eyes rolled back in his head and he slid down the wall, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Damon!” she cried, and then caught herself. This was
supposed
to happen. He looked vulnerable like that, she thought, and smaller, and she dragged her eyes away from him. This would be easier if she didn’t look at Damon.

“Are you ready to call the Guardian?” Elena asked Andrés, and he nodded, holding tightly to her hand. His mouth was tense, and there was none of the usual warmth and humor in his eyes.

Elena concentrated on the link between herself and Andrés, energy flowing back and forth between them, moving as steadily and rhythmically as the tide. As that energy found a balance and began to grow, she forced open the doors of Power inside herself.

OH.
As soon as her Power was unleashed, everything in her swung to attention, snapping toward Damon. She wanted to . . . she didn’t want to hurt him, exactly; it wasn’t anger the Power was nursing inside her, but something cold and clean that wanted to destroy him. Not vengeance, not passion, but a cool, urgent instruction:
This needs to be eliminated.

This must be what it was to have an unfulfilled task. It would be so easy to give in to that cold urgency, to do what she was expected to do. What she
wanted
to do.

No.
She couldn’t do it. Or, at least, she
wouldn’t.

With a physical effort, she turned her attention back to Andrés. With the doors inside her mind wide open, she could see his expansive aura, shimmering green around him, filling half the room. Using immense concentration, she tried to move her own aura, blending her gold into Andrés’s green. Slowly, the colors slid together and mixed, filling the room. Power sang through Elena’s veins, and everything she could see was touched with light. She met Andrés’s eyes, and his face was filled with wonder. They were stronger like this, more than twice as strong, and she felt the summoning go out with the Power of a shout.

“Guardians,” Elena said, holding on to Andrés’s hand. “Mylea. I call on you. My task is complete.”

Nothing happened.

For a long moment, they stood like that, hand-in-hand, eyes on each other, auras expanded to fill the room with Power, and felt nothing change.

Finally, something shifted infinitesimally, just a small adjustment in the universe. There was no physical change, but Elena knew that someone was listening at last, as if they’d flicked the call-waiting button on a phone.

“Mylea,” she said. “I have killed Damon Salvatore. Now that my task is complete, come and release me from my compulsion.”

There was still no answer. And then Andrés slowly stiffened. His eyes rolled back and his aura faded, changing from green to a clear wash of white. His fingers trembled in Elena’s.

“Andrés!” she called, alarmed.

His eyes, unseeing, fixed on hers. The eerie white aura around him throbbed.

“I am coming, Elena.” Mylea’s voice came through Andrés’s mouth, sounding crisply businesslike. Elena could imagine her ticking Elena’s name off a clipboard before stepping onto some kind of interdimensional escalator.

Released, Andrés gasped and staggered. Making a face as if there was a strange taste in his mouth, he said, “That was . . . weird.”

Elena couldn’t stop herself from looking at Damon. His bones stood out distinctly, as if his pale skin had grown a size tighter, and his straight black hair was tousled. She could snap his neck with her mind, she thought, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard, looking away again, shaking.

Mylea stepped through nothingness and into the room. Her eyes went immediately to Damon. “He’s not dead yet,” she said coolly.

“No.” Elena took a deep breath. “And I won’t let Damon die,” she said. “You have to revoke the task.”

The Principal Guardian sighed briefly, but her face was, Elena thought, slightly sympathetic, and when she spoke, her voice was calm. “I was concerned that a task so tied to your own life would be difficult for you as your first duty,” she said. “I apologize, and I understand why you have called me here to complete the job. You will not be punished for your foolish attachment to the vampire. But Damon Salvatore must die.” She reached for Damon, and Andrés and Elena moved to shield the vampire’s unconscious body.

“Why?” Elena burst out. It was so unfair. “There are worse vampires than Damon,” she said indignantly. “Until recently, he hadn’t killed anyone for”—she wasn’t sure, she realized, and this wasn’t her strongest argument, anyway—“a long time,” she finished lamely. “Why send me after Damon when truly evil vampires like Klaus and his descendants were around?” She could hear what she was almost saying:
He’s only a vicious killer some of the time. Let him go.

“It is not your job to question the decisions of the Celestial Court,” Mylea told her sternly. “Time and again, Damon Salvatore has proven himself unable to control his emotions. He has no concept of right and wrong. We feel that he may grow to be as great a danger to humanity as any of the Old Ones.”

“May,”
Elena said. “You mean you think he could just as easily go the other way. There’s as great a chance that he will never kill again.”

“It’s not a chance we’re prepared to take,” Mylea said flatly. “Damon Salvatore is a murderer and so has forfeited his right to any consideration on our parts. Now
step aside.
”

It was time to gamble. Elena took a deep breath.

“You need me,” she said, and the Guardian frowned at her. “I am the daughter of a Principal Guardian. I killed Klaus, and I can destroy the most dangerous Old Ones, the ones you haven’t found another way of getting rid of. I won’t help you if you kill Damon.”

She glanced at Andrés, just the tiniest flick of her eyelashes, and he nodded. They had agreed that the most difficult part of their plan was making the Guardian believe that Elena wouldn’t fight the Old Ones, would let innocent people suffer if she didn’t get her way. Apparently Andrés, at least, thought she sounded convincing enough for Mylea to believe her.

Mylea tilted her head to one side and stared at Elena, as if she was examining an interesting new specimen under some kind of special Guardian microscope. “The vampire is so important to you that you would risk punishment, risk being taken from your home and assigned to the Celestial Court?”

Elena nodded, her jaw clenched.

“The vampire should be conscious for this,” Mylea said. Before Andrés and Elena had a chance to block her again, she knelt beside Damon and pressed two fingers to his forehead. He blinked and stirred, and Mylea rose and left him without a glance, turning her gaze back to Elena.

“Would you risk your life for Damon Salvatore?” Mylea asked her.

“Yes,”
Elena said immediately. There didn’t seem to be anything else to add.

“And what about you, vampire?” Mylea asked, looking over Elena’s shoulder to address Damon. “Do you care so much for Elena that you would change your life for her?”

Damon pulled himself up to sit with his back against the wall. “Yes,” he said steadily.

Mylea gave a slightly unpleasant smile. “I suppose we will see,” she said, and reached for them both. She pressed their hands together, and Elena clasped her hand with Damon’s and gave him a small smile. He squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

“There,” Mylea said after a moment. “It is done.”

That pull toward Damon, that cold feeling that he was a problem that needed to be eliminated, was completely gone. It was as if that connection had just suddenly snapped. But it had been replaced. She still felt
connected
. There was a great sense of
Damon
permeating through her, as if the air she breathed was made of him. His eyes widened, and she realized she could feel his heart beating in time with her own. Amazement was coming from Damon, running through the connection between them, and the lightest touch of fear. Concentrating, she tried to see Damon’s aura.

A braided rope of light seemed to lead from her chest to Damon’s, her aura’s gold and the peacock-blue-and-black of Damon’s aura twisted together.

“Now you are connected,” Mylea said matter-of-factly. “If Damon kills, Elena will die. If Damon feeds on a human without their knowing, aware permission—no use of Power or illusion, but true agreement—Elena will suffer. In the event that Elena dies, the bond—the curse—will pass to a member of her family. If the bond is somehow broken, Damon will return to our attention and be eliminated immediately.”

Damon’s eyes widened. Through the bond between them, Elena felt a throb of dismay. “I’ll starve,” he said.

Mylea smiled. “You won’t starve,” she said. “Perhaps your brother will teach you his more humane methods of feeding. Or perhaps you will find willing humans, if you can honestly gain their trust.”

The bond was vibrating now with a curious mixture of disgust and relief, but Damon’s face was as closed off as Elena had ever seen it. She rubbed reflexively at her chest, pushing the intense emotions away.

“The bond will lose some of its intensity over time,” Mylea said, almost sympathetically. “You feel each other’s emotions strongly because it is so new.” She looked between them. “It will connect you forever, and it may be deadly to one or both of you in the end.”

“I understand,” Elena told her and then, ignoring Mylea, she turned to Damon. “I trust you,” she told him. “You’ll do whatever you have to do to save me. As I’ve done for you.”

Damon stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unfathomable, and Elena felt the connection between them flood with a sorrowful affection. “I will, princess,” he promised.

His lips curved into a smile Elena had never seen on Damon’s face before: neither his quick bitter smirk nor his brief and brilliant smile, but something warmer and gentler. And then the connection between them filled with love.