Phantom, p.3
Phantom, page 3
They chatted for a few minutes before Elena casually asked, “How’s your grandmother, Isobel?”
Isobel looked at her blankly. “My grandmother?” she said. “You must be confusing me with someone else. Both my grandmothers have been dead for years.”
“Oh, my mistake.” Elena said good-bye and managed to contain herself until Isobel and Jim were out of earshot. Then she took Stefan by the arms, pulled him toward her, and gave him a resounding kiss, feeling delight and triumph passing back and forth between them.
“We did it,” she said when the kiss had ended. “They’re fine! And not just them.” More solemn now, she gazed up into his green eyes, so serious and kind. “We did something really important and wonderful, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Stefan agreed, but she couldn’t help but notice something hard in his voice as he said it.
They walked hand in hand, and without discussing it, they headed for the edge of town, crossing Wickery Bridge and climbing the hill. They turned into the cemetery, past the ruined church where Katherine had hidden, and down into the little valley below that held the newer part of the graveyard.
Elena and Stefan sat down on the neatly trimmed grass by the big marble headstone with “Gilbert” carved into the front.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” Elena whispered. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
Back in her old life, she had visited her parents’ graves often, just to talk to them. She’d felt like they were able to hear her somehow, that they were wishing her well from whatever higher plane they’d ended up on. It had always made her feel better to tell them her troubles, and before her life had gotten so complicated, she had told them everything.
She put out one hand and gently touched the names and dates carved on the tombstone. Elena bent her head.
“It’s my fault they’re dead,” she said. Stefan made a soft noise of disagreement, and she turned to look at him. “It is,” she said, her eyes burning. “The Guardians told me so.”
Stefan sighed and kissed her forehead. “The Guardians wanted to kill you,” he said. “To make you one of them. And they accidentally killed your parents instead. It’s no more your fault than if they had shot at you and missed.”
“But I distracted my father at the critical moment and made him crash,” Elena said, hunching her shoulders.
“So the Guardians say,” Stefan replied. “But they wouldn’t want it to sound like their fault. They don’t like to admit they make mistakes. The fact remains that the accident that killed your parents wouldn’t have happened if the Guardians hadn’t been there.”
Elena lowered her eyes to hide the tears swimming in them. What Stefan said was true, she thought, but she couldn’t stop the chorus of myfaultmyfaultmyfault in her head.
A few wild violets were growing on her left, and she picked them, along with a patch of buttercups. Stefan joined her, handing her a sprig of columbine with yellow bell-shaped blossoms to add to her tiny wildflower bouquet.
“Damon never trusted the Guardians,” he said quietly. “Well, he wouldn’t—they don’t think much of vampires. But beyond that . . .” He reached for a tall stalk of Queen Anne’s lace growing beside a nearby headstone. “Damon had a pretty finely tuned sense for detecting lies—the lies people told themselves and the ones they told other people. When we were young we had a tutor—a priest, no less—who I liked and my father trusted, and Damon despised. When the man ran off with my father’s gold and a young lady from the neighborhood, Damon was the only one who wasn’t surprised.” Stefan smiled at Elena. “He said that the priest’s eyes were wrong. And that he spoke too smoothly.” Stefan shrugged. “My father and I never noticed. But Damon did.”
Elena smiled tremulously. “He always knew when I wasn’t being totally honest with him.” She had a sudden flash of memory: of Damon’s deep black eyes holding hers, his pupils dilated like a cat’s, his head tilting as their lips met. She looked away from Stefan’s warm green eyes, so different from Damon’s dark ones, and twisted the thick stalk of the Queen Anne’s lace around the other flowers. When the bouquet was tied together, she placed it on her parents’ grave.
“I miss him,” Stefan said softly. “There was a time when I would have thought . . . when his death might have been a relief. But I’m so glad we came together—that we were brothers again—before he died.” He put a gentle hand beneath Elena’s chin and tilted her head up so that her eyes met his again. “I know you loved him, Elena. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend.”
Elena gave a little gasp of pain.
It was like there was a dark hole inside her. She could laugh and smile and marvel at the restored town; she could love her family; but all the time there was this dull ache, this terrible sense of loss.
Letting her tears loose at last, Elena fell into Stefan’s arms.
“Oh, my love,” he said, his voice catching, and they wept together, taking comfort in each other’s warmth.
Fine ash had fallen for a long time. Now it settled at last and the small moon of the Nether World was covered with thick, sticky piles of dust. Here and there, opalescent fluid pooled against the charred blackness, coloring it with the rainbow of an oil slick.
Nothing moved. Now that the Great Tree had disintegrated, nothing lived in this place.
Deep below the surface of the ruined moon was a body. His poisoned blood had stopped flowing and he lay unmoving, unfeeling, unseeing. But the drops of fluid saturating his skin nourished him, and a slow thrum of magical life beat steadily on.
Every now and then a flicker of consciousness rose within him. He had forgotten who he was and how he had died. But there was a voice somewhere deep inside him, a light, sweet voice he knew well, that told him, Close your eyes now. Let go. Let go. Go. It was comforting, and his last spark of consciousness was holding on for a moment longer, just to hear it. He couldn’t remember whose voice it was, although something in it reminded him of sunlight, of gold and lapis lazuli.
Let go. He was slipping away, the last spark dimming, but it was all right. It was warm and comfortable, and he was ready to let go now. The voice would take him all the way to . . . to wherever it was he would go.
As the flicker of consciousness was about to go out for the last time, another voice—a sharper, more commanding voice, the voice of someone used to having his orders obeyed—spoke within him.
She needs you. She’s in danger.
He couldn’t let go. Not yet. That voice pulled painfully at him, holding him to life.
With a sharp shock, everything shifted. As if he’d been ripped out of that gentle, cozy place, he was suddenly freezing cold. Everything hurt.
Deep within the ash, his fingers twitched.
Chapter 5
“Are you excited for Alaric to arrive tomorrow?” Matt asked. “He’s bringing his researcher friend Celia, right?”
Meredith kicked him in the chest.
“Oof!” Matt staggered backward, knocked breathless despite the protective vest he had on. Meredith followed up with a roundhouse kick to Matt’s side, and he fell to his knees, barely managing to raise his hands and block a straight punch to his face.
“Ow!” he said. “Meredith, time-out, okay?”
Meredith dropped into a graceful tiger stance, her back leg supporting her weight while her front foot rested lightly on her toes. Her face was calm, her eyes cool and watchful. She looked ready to pounce if Matt showed any sign of sudden movement.
When he’d arrived to spar with Meredith—to help her keep her hunter-slayer skills in top-notch shape—Matt had wondered why she had handed him a helmet, mouth guard, gloves, shin guards, and vest, while she wore only sleek black workout clothes.
Now he knew. He hadn’t even come close to hitting her, while she’d pummeled him mercilessly. Matt eased a hand up under the vest and rubbed ruefully at his side. He hoped he hadn’t cracked a rib.
“Ready to go again?” Meredith said, her eyebrows raised in challenge.
“Please, no, Meredith,” Matt said, raising his hands in surrender. “Let’s take a break. It feels like you’ve been punching me for hours.”
Meredith walked over to the small fridge in the corner of her family’s rec room and tossed Matt a bottle of water, then sank down next to him on the mat. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away. I’ve never sparred with a friend before.”
Looking around as he took a long, cool drink, Matt shook his head. “I don’t know how you managed to keep this place secret for so long.” The basement room had been converted into a perfect place to train: throwing stars, knives, swords, and staves of various kinds were mounted on the walls; a punching bag hung in one corner, while a padded dummy leaned in another. The floor was lined with mats, and one wall was completely mirrored. In the middle of the opposite wall hung the fighting stave: a special weapon for battling the supernatural that had been handed down through generations of Meredith’s family. It was deadly but elegant-looking, the hilt covered with jewels, the ends spiked with silver, wood, and white ash, and the needles steeped in poison. Matt eyed it warily.
“Well,” said Meredith, looking away, “the Suarez family has always been good at keeping secrets.” She began to move through a tae kwon do form: back stance, double fist block, left front stance, reverse middle punch. She was graceful as a slim black cat in her workout gear.
After a moment, Matt capped his water bottle, climbed to his feet, and began to mirror her movements. Left double front kick, left inside block, double-handed punch. He knew he was half a beat behind and felt shambling and awkward next to her, but frowned and concentrated. He’d always been a good athlete. He could do this, too.
“Besides, it’s not like I was bringing my prom dates down here,” Meredith offered after a cycle, half smiling. “It wasn’t that hard to hide.” She watched Matt in the mirror. “No, block low with your left hand and high with your right hand, like this.” She showed him again, and he shadowed her movements.
“Okay, yeah,” he said, only half concentrating on his words now, focused on the positions. “But you could have told us. We’re your best friends.” He moved his left foot forward and mimicked Meredith’s backward elbow blow. “At least, you could have told us after the whole thing with Klaus and Katherine,” he amended. “Before that, we would have thought you were crazy.”
Meredith shrugged and dropped her hands, and Matt followed before he realized that the gestures weren’t part of the tae kwon do form.
Now they stood side by side, staring at each other in the mirror. Meredith’s cool and elegant face looked pale and pinched. “I was brought up to keep my heritage as a hunter-slayer a deep, dark secret,” she said. “Telling anybody wasn’t something I could consider. Even Alaric doesn’t know.”
Matt turned away from Meredith’s mirror image to gape at the real girl. Alaric and Meredith were practically engaged. Matt had never been that serious with anyone—the girl he’d come closest to loving was Elena, and obviously that hadn’t worked out—but he’d sort of figured that, if you committed your heart to somebody, you told them everything.
“Isn’t Alaric a paranormal researcher? Don’t you think he would understand?”
Frowning, Meredith shrugged again. “Probably,” she said, sounding irritated and dismissive, “but I don’t want to be something for him to study or research, any more than I want him to freak out. But since you and the others know, I’ll have to tell him.”
“Hmm.” Matt rubbed his aching side again. “Is that why you’re pounding on me so aggressively? Because you’re worried about telling him?”
Meredith met his eyes. The lines of her face were still tense, but a mischievous glimmer shone in her eyes. “Aggressive?” she asked sweetly, falling back into the tiger stance. Matt felt an answering smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Elena surveyed the restaurant Judith had picked with a kind of bemused horror. Beeping video game machines vied for attention with old-fashioned arcade games like Whac-A-Mole and Skee-Ball. Bouquets of brightly colored balloons bobbed over every table, and a cacophony of song rose from various corners as singing waiters delivered pizza after pizza. What seemed like hundreds of children ran loose across the floor, shrieking and laughing.
Stefan had walked her to the restaurant, but, eyeing the neon paint job with alarm, he’d declined to come in.
“Oh, I shouldn’t intrude on girls’ night,” he’d said vaguely, and then disappeared so quickly Elena suspected he’d used vampiric speed.
“Traitor,” she’d muttered, before warily opening the bright pink door. After their time together in the graveyard, she felt stronger and happier, but she would have liked some support here, too.
“Welcome to Happytown,” chirped an unnaturally cheery hostess. “Table for one, or are you meeting a party?”
Elena repressed a shudder. She couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to come to a place like this by themselves. “I think I see my group now,” she said politely, catching sight of Aunt Judith waving to her from a corner.
“This is your idea of a fun girls’ night out, Aunt Judith?” she asked when she reached the table. “I was picturing something more like a cozy bistro.”
Aunt Judith nodded toward the other side of the room. Peering over, Elena spotted Margaret, happily whacking away at toy moles with a mallet.
“We’re always dragging Margaret to grown-up places and expecting her to behave,” Aunt Judith explained. “I thought it was time she got a turn to do something she enjoyed. I hope Bonnie and Meredith won’t mind.”
“She certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Elena said, studying her little sister. Her memories of Margaret from the last year were of strain and anxiety: During the fall Margaret had been upset by Elena’s fighting with Judith and Robert and by the mysterious happenings in Fell’s Church, and then, of course, devastated by Elena’s death. Elena had watched her through the windows afterward and seen her sobbing. She’d suffered more than any five-year-old should, even if she didn’t remember any of it now.
I’ll take care of you, Margaret, she promised fiercely and silently, watching the studious concentration on her sister’s face as Margaret practiced a little old-fashioned carnival violence. You won’t have to feel like that again in this world.
“Are we waiting for Bonnie and Meredith?” Aunt Judith prompted gently. “Did you end up inviting them to join us?”
“Oh,” said Elena, jarred out of her reverie. She reached for a handful of popcorn from the basket in the middle of the table. “I couldn’t get ahold of Meredith, but Bonnie’s coming. She’ll love this.”
“I absolutely, totally do love this,” a voice agreed from behind her. Elena turned to see Bonnie’s silky red curls. “Especially the expression on your face, Elena.” Bonnie’s wide brown eyes were dancing with amusement. She and Elena shared a look that was full of all the we’re back, we’re back, they did what they said and Fell’s Church is the way it should be again that they couldn’t say in front of Aunt Judith, then fell into each other’s arms.
Elena squeezed Bonnie tightly, and Bonnie buried her face in Elena’s shoulder for a moment. Her petite body quivered slightly in Elena’s arms, and Elena realized that she wasn’t the only one walking a fine line between delight and devastation. They’d gained so much—but it had come at a very high price.
“Actually,” said Bonnie with careful cheer as she released Elena, “I had my ninth birthday at a place very much like this. Remember the Hokey-Pokey Grill? That was the place to be when we were in elementary school.” Her eyes held a bright sheen that might be tears, but her chin stuck out determinedly. Bonnie, Elena thought with admiration, was going to have fun if it killed her.
“I remember that party,” Elena said, matching Bonnie’s lightness. “Your cake had a big picture of some boy band on it.”
“I was mature for my age,” Bonnie told Aunt Judith merrily. “I was boy crazy way before any of my friends were.”
Aunt Judith laughed and waved Margaret over toward their table. “We’d better order before the stage show starts,” she said.
Elena, eyes wide, mouthed, Stage show? at Bonnie, who smirked and shrugged.
“Do you girls know what you want?” Aunt Judith asked.
“Do they have anything besides pizza?” Elena asked.
“Chicken fingers,” answered Margaret, climbing into her chair. “And hot dogs.”
Elena grinned at her sister’s tousled hair and expression of delight. “What are you going to have, bunny?” she asked.
“Pizza!” Margaret answered. “Pizza, pizza, pizza.”
“I’ll have pizza, too, then,” Elena decided.
“It’s the best thing here,” Margaret confided. “The hot dogs are weird-tasting.” She squirmed in her chair. “Elena, are you coming to my dance recital?” she asked.
“When is it?” Elena asked.
Margaret frowned. “The day after tomorrow,” she said. “You know that.”
Elena glanced quickly at Bonnie, whose eyes were wide. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told Margaret affectionately, and her sister nodded firmly and stood up on her chair to reach the popcorn.
Under cover of Aunt Judith’s scolding and the semimelodious sound of their singing waiter approaching, Bonnie and Elena exchanged a smile.
Dance recitals. Singing waiters. Pizza.
It was good to live in this kind of world for a change.
Chapter 6
The next morning was clear and hot again, another beautiful summer day. Elena stretched lazily in her comfy bed, then pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and padded down to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.
Aunt Judith was braiding Margaret’s hair at the table.
“Morning,” Elena said, pouring milk into her bowl.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” said Aunt Judith, and Margaret gave her a big smile and a finger-wiggling wave. “Keep still, Margaret. We’re about to leave for the market,” she told Elena. “What are you doing today?”
