The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unseen (4 page)

“Y
ou’re being very boring, you know,” Katherine called up to Damon from the piazza. “Come join us.” Damon languidly waved at her from the balcony without looking up from the screen of his laptop. The sun had just set, but some light still lingered; dark shadows spread across the floor.

Something awful is going to happen
, he read.
I need you to be safe.
He closed the laptop without replying to Elena’s message and leaned back in his chair, frowning a little.

Then he felt for his connection with Elena—tentatively, as if he were lowering himself slowly into a deep, swirling river. The bond between them was always there, but Damon had gotten better at keeping it in the background, a mere comforting hum reminding him
Elena’s there. Elena’s there, and she’s fine
.

But now he let his barriers fall. The sense of
ELENAELENAELENA
hit him like a tidal wave, and Damon went under for a minute, his senses flooded by Elena’s emotions, Elena’s essence. He could almost smell her: her pomegranate body wash, the faint coconut scent of her shampoo, and underneath it all the warm, tantalizing smell of Elena’s rich blood. He caught a flash of quick images from her: the red of Bonnie’s hair, something shiny glittering at the edge of Elena’s vision. She was content right now, he realized, enjoying herself, and that told him all he needed to know. She was fine, and his brother, Stefan, was safe. Whatever new disaster was hovering at the edges of Elena’s life, and of Damon’s own, it had not yet arrived.

Maybe it never would. There would always be danger; Damon had accepted that centuries ago. And threats rarely came when you were expecting them. Even a Guardian like Elena could be wrong.

He stood up and stretched with a liquid grace, pushing his connection with Elena back to the edge of his consciousness. Sometimes, in the very early morning when he was settling to rest, Damon would open himself all the way to Elena just to feel her with him, the sense of her flooding through him as he lay back on his silken sheets. Usually she was sleeping then, deep in the dark of a Virginia night, and Damon could lose himself in Elena’s dreams.

But touching Elena’s mind like that always left a strange ache in Damon’s chest afterward, so he tried to resist as long as he could. He didn’t quite know what the sensation was. It couldn’t be loneliness, because Damon was never lonely.

He wandered to the edge of the balcony and looked down into the piazza below. There were a few tables set around the grand fountain in the middle of the square, but only one was occupied. Katherine was not in the mood to mix with the locals, and so the locals had found themselves deciding to stay inside tonight.

Katherine looked up at him, her long golden hair falling over the back of her chair, and beckoned imperiously. Beside her, her current boyfriend, Roberto, glanced at Damon and then down at the table. “Come here,” she said. “It’s time for dinner.”

Sometimes Damon couldn’t believe he was still traveling with Katherine. He had never expected to see her again. But then, two years ago while wandering the streets of Tokyo, he’d caught sight of her through the crowd, felt the familiar brush of her mind, and she’d turned and smiled at him. He hadn’t mistaken her for Elena—he never did, although they looked so much alike. And somehow, even after everything they’d been through, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to cut through the crowd and take her hand. After all, he’d spent most of his long life loving her.

They’d been traveling together since then. And this much could be said for Katherine: She was infuriating at times, selfish and conceited, but she was never, ever dull.

More quickly than a human eye could have followed, Damon gracefully dropped from the balcony to the piazza below, his feet landing cat-soft on its cobblestones. Katherine smiled at him and patted the seat of the chair next to her.

“I’m starving,” Roberto said sulkily, as Damon sat. “Where’s the waitress?”

Roberto was always complaining, always on edge. Damon remembered what it was like to be a young vampire, restless and unable to settle, but surely he had never been as petulant as Katherine’s latest toy. At least, Damon consoled himself, Roberto wouldn’t be with them for long.

He wasn’t the first handsome young man Katherine had picked up in their travels. There’d been Hiro in Tokyo and Sven in Stockholm, Nigel in London—Damon had actually liked Nigel, who’d at least had a sense of humor—and Jean-Paul in Paris. Roberto, with his dark hair and cleanly cut features, was just the latest. After a while, Katherine always left them behind.

But for now, she was still enjoying her new toy, and so Damon would tolerate him. Katherine patted Roberto on the arm soothingly. “Look,” she said. “Here she comes.” A pretty girl from the restaurant at one side of the piazza was hurrying toward their table, carrying a tray piled high with food and drink.

Damon smiled briefly at the girl as she placed a platter of figs and prosciutto before him. Picking up one of the ripe, firm fruits wrapped in salty meat, he bit into it and licked his lips. He didn’t have to eat human food, of course, but sometimes he enjoyed the novelty of it.

“Bianca, come here,” Katherine said to the waitress.

The waitress came and stood beside Katherine’s chair, her face half-eager and half-shy. “
Si, signora
?” she said breathlessly, “You want—you want something from me?”

“Yes.” Katherine stood and cupped the girl’s face gently, gazing into her eyes. Damon felt a whisper of her Power. “You remember what I want,” she said softly, soothingly. “It’s all right with you. In fact, you’ll enjoy it. Afterward, you won’t remember anything about this until I tell you to. You’ll just know that you want to do whatever makes us happy.”

“Of course, yes.” The girl nodded enthusiastically, her long chestnut hair falling across her face, brushing over Katherine’s hand. “Whatever you want.” She held out a hand to Roberto and he took it, cradling it against him as he bit deeply into her wrist and began to drink from the vein there.

Katherine turned Bianca’s face toward Damon, both girls gazing at him with wide, untroubled eyes. “Do you want some?” Katherine asked. “I’m the one who’s compelled her, so it won’t violate your precious agreement with the Guardians.”

Damon flinched involuntarily, then covered his reaction with a smile. Taking a sip from his bubbling glass of prosecco, he shook his head. “I don’t want her,” he said coolly, and watched, his face carefully blank and bored, as Katherine angled the girl’s head and sank her fangs smoothly into Bianca’s neck while Roberto continued to suck steadily at her wrist.

He could, technically, have drunk from the girl. Katherine was right: His deal with the Guardians was that
Damon
could not compel people to let him feed on them, not without hurting Elena. He could have spent eternity following Katherine, or any other vampire, around the world, feeding on humans they’d compelled for him, like a parasite. But the very notion disgusted him. He was Damon Salvatore, and he was no one’s parasite.

Besides, he was doing just fine on his own.

Damon looked up to see Vittoria coming toward him, skirting around the fountain, where the dancing water reflected the lights of the piazza and made soft shadows across her skin. She was young, a university student, and still lived with her parents; she would have had to lie to them about where she was going. Her dark curls were knotted in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she held herself very straight, walking with the grace of a dancer. He got to his feet to meet her.

Vittoria glanced at Katherine and Roberto, drinking steadily from Bianca, then walked around them gingerly, averting her gaze. She stopped to stand before Damon.

“It doesn’t hurt her,” he said. “She’ll be all right; she won’t even remember.”

“I know,” Vittoria said solemnly, her eyes wide and disconcertingly trusting. Damon held out his hand, and Vittoria took it. Hand in hand, they crossed the piazza and sat on the edge of the fountain together.

“Are you sure about this?” Damon said, tracing the shape of Vittoria’s fingers with his own. “I don’t love you; you know that.”

“I—I don’t mind,” Vittoria said, her cheeks flushing. “What you do to me. I like it,” she added in a hushed, half-embarrassed voice.

“As long as you’re sure,” he told her, and she nodded, swallowing hard. Damon stroked a stray strand of hair back behind Vittoria’s ear and pulled her closer. His sensitive canines extended and sharpened, and, as gently as he knew how, Damon slid them into the vein at the side of Vittoria’s neck.

She stiffened in pain and then relaxed against him, her blood bursting into his mouth like the juice of a ripe plum. It wasn’t as rich as Elena’s, but it was sweet, filling Damon’s mind with the images of young, soft-featured girls from his distant past, looking up at him with love and desire.

He remembered how nervous he’d been when he’d left Elena, how worried that, if he couldn’t compel humans to let him feed, he would go hungry, or be reduced to stalking squirrels and foxes like his little brother. But it had turned out to be surprisingly easy.

He couldn’t use his Power to compel human girls, but he could
charm
them. He could talk to them, flirt with them, smile into their eyes just as he had in Florence five hundred years ago, back when he was human and angling for nothing more than a kiss or two. It surprised him, how easily it came back to him. And he liked the girls he charmed, even loved each of them a little in his own way. Though he forgot them as soon as he and Katherine moved on.

It was very late by the time he’d finished and released Vittoria. She brushed a shy kiss against his lips and hurried away with a murmured good-bye, twisting a silk scarf around her neck to hide the mark of his bite.

Damon leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. He felt someone sit down beside him, and shifted over to make room for Katherine.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, and Damon nodded.

“Clear, too.” He pointed. “Polaris, the North Star,” he said. “Leda, the Swan. They don’t change, any more than we do.”

Katherine laughed, a high, silvery sound like the ringing of a bell. “Oh,
we
change,” she said. “Just look at us.”

It was true, Damon thought, smiling despite himself at the challenge in her eyes. He’d known quite a few Katherines: the shy, clinging girl he’d met back home when he was human and she was newly made; the madwoman who’d pursued him to Fell’s Church; and then this harder, brighter Katherine who had become, strangely, a friend. And he wasn’t the angry young vampire who had woken on a cold stone slab beside his brother all those centuries ago, not anymore.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted.

“Of course I’m right. Now, I’m thinking we should stay here for a while,” Katherine said. “Roberto says the palazzo’s owner wants to sell. We could settle in.”

Damon sighed. “Everyone here knows who we are already,” he said. “You feed on anyone who catches your fancy. It’ll all end in pitchforks and torches, like a horror movie.”

Katherine laughed again and patted his knee. “Nonsense,” she said firmly. “They love us here. We haven’t killed anyone at all, thanks to your newfound morals. To them, we’re just the beautiful rich people in the palazzo who sleep all day.”

Damon looked back up at the stars. Katherine was probably right; they were in no danger. He imagined staying here for a few years: eating figs, tossing coins in the fountain, drinking from sweet Vittoria and eventually her replacement.

But sooner or later, they would leave and continue their wanderings across the globe: Beijing next, maybe, or Sydney. He’d never been to Australia. He would charm another girl into loving him, taste the richness of her blood, be irritated by Katherine’s latest toy, gaze up at the stars. They were all the same after a while, Damon thought, all the places of the world.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, closing his eyes and reaching again for the faint thrum of
Elena
inside him. “Whatever you want.”

“B
onnie liked her present, don’t you think?” Meredith asked, straightening the pillows on the couch. She cast her eye over the rest of the living room: her law books lined up neatly; the coffee table dusted and cleared of Alaric’s research; the carpet vacuumed. She’d been gone for three days tracking Celine with Stefan, and she’d had some tidying to do when she returned. Alaric wasn’t a slob, but he didn’t keep things exactly the way Meredith did.

As she walked over to twitch the curtains straight, she caught Alaric’s eye. He was leaning against the doorframe and looking amused, a mug in one hand.

“You knew I was compulsive when you married me,” she said, and Alaric’s face split into a grin.

“I did,” he said, “and I married you anyway. But yeah, I think Bonnie loved the earrings.” He crossed the room and laid his free hand on Meredith’s arm, nudging her gently toward the couch. “Sit down and drink your tea. And then let’s go to bed, it’s late.” She let him pull her onto the couch with him and leaned against him, nestling in Alaric’s warmth. He smelled good, clean and soapy with an underlying Alaric-y whiff of spice.