Contents 23 страница. seen it while climbing—the big pavilion?

seen it while climbing—the big pavilion? And then theah’s the White

Ballroom inside. That’s lit with candelabras and has the curtains drawn

all round. Sometimes it’s called the Waltz Room, since all that is played

in there is waltzes.”

But Bonnie was still caught in horror a few sentences back.

“There’s a ballroom outside?” she said shakily, hoping that somehow

she hadn’t heard right.

“That’s it, deah, you can see through that wall theah.” The woman

was telling the truth. You could see through the wall, because the walls

were all of glass, one beyond another, allowing Bonnie to see what

seemed to be an illusion done with mirrors: lighted room after lighted

room, all filled with people. Only the last room on the bottom floor

seemed to be made out of something solid. That must be the White

Ballroom.

But through the opposite wall, where the guest was pointing—oh,

yes. There was a canopy top. She remembered vaguely passing it. The

other thing she remembered was…

“They dance on the grass? That—enormous field of grass?”

“Of course. It’s all especially cut and rolled smooth. You won’t

trip over a weed or hummock of ground. Are you sure you’re feeling

quite well? You look rathah pale. Well”—the guest laughed—“as pale as

anyone can look in this light.”

“I’m fine,” Bonnie said dazedly. “I’m just…fine.”

The two parties met later and told each other of the horrors that

they had unearthed. Damon and Elena had discovered that the ground of

the outdoor ballroom was almost as hard as rock—anything that had

been buried there before the ground was rolled smooth by heavy rollers

would now be packed down in something like cement. The only place

that anyone could dig there was around the perimeter.

“We should have brought a diviner,” Damon said. “You know,

someone who uses a forked stick or a pendulum or a bit of a missing

person’s clothing to home in on the correct area.”

“You’re right,” Meredith said, her tone clearly adding for once.

“Why didn’t we bring a diviner?”

“Because I don’t know of any,” Damon said, with his sweetest,

most ferocious barracuda smile.

Bonnie and Meredith had found that the inside ballroom’s flooring

was rock—very beautiful white marble. There were dozens of floral

arrangements in the room, but all that Bonnie had stuck her small hand

into (as unobtrusively as possible) were simply cut flowers in a vase of

water. No soil, nothing that could justify using the term “buried in.”

“And besides, why would Shinichi and Misao put the key in water

they knew would be thrown out in a few days?” Bonnie asked, frowning,

while Meredith added,

“And how do you find a loose floorboard in marble? So we can’t

see how it could be buried there. By the way, I checked—and the White

Ballroom has been here for years, so there’s no chance that they dumped

it under the building stones, either.”

Elena, by now drinking her third goblet of Black Magic, said, “All

right. The way we look at this is: one room scratched off the list. Now,

we’ve already got half of the key—look how easy that was—”

“Maybe that was just to tease us,” Damon said, raising an eyebrow.

“To get our hopes up, before dashing them completely…here.”

“That can’t be,” Elena said desperately, glaring at him. “We’ve

come so far—farther than Misao ever imagined we would. We can find

it. We will find it.”

“All right,” Damon said, suddenly deadly serious. “If we have to

pretend to be staff and use pickaxes on that soil outdoors, we’ll do it.

But first, let’s go through the entire house inside. That seemed to work

well last time.”

“All right,” Meredith said, for once looking straight at him and

without disapproval. “Bonnie and I will take the upstairs floors and you

can take the downstairs ones—maybe you can make something of that

White Waltz Ballroom.”

“All right.”

They set to work. Elena wished that she could calm down. Despite

most of three goblets of Black Magic oscillating inside her—or perhaps

because of them—she was seeing certain things in new lights. But she

must keep her mind on the quest—and only on the quest. She would do

anything— anything —she told herself, to get the key. Anything for

Stefan.

The White Ballroom smelled of flowers and was garlanded with

large, opulent blooms in the midst of abundant greenery. Standing

arrangements were placed to shield an area around a fountain into an

intimate nook where couples could sit. And, although there was no

visible orchestra, music poured into the ballroom, demanding a response

from Elena’s susceptible body.

“I don’t suppose you know how to waltz,” Damon said suddenly,

and Elena realized that she had been swaying in time to the beat, eyes

closed.

“Of course I do,” Elena answered, a little offended. “We all of us

went to Ms. Hopewell’s classes. That was the equivalent of charm

school in Fell’s Church,” she added, seeing the funny side of it and

laughing at herself. “But Ms. Hopewell did love to dance, and she taught

us every dance and movement she thought was graceful. That was when

I was about eleven.”

“I suppose it would be absurd for me to ask you to dance with me,”

Damon said.

Elena looked at him with what she knew were large and puzzled

eyes. Despite the low-cut scarlet dress, she didn’t feel like an irresistible

siren tonight. She was too wrought up to feel the magic woven in the

cloth, magic which she now realized was telling her she was a dancing

flame, a fire elemental. She supposed that Meredith must feel like a

quiet stream, flowing swiftly and steadily to her destination, but

sparkling and glinting all the way. And Bonnie—Bonnie, of course was

a sprite of the air, meant to dance as lightly as a feather in that

opalescent dress, barely subject to gravity.

But abruptly Elena remembered certain glances of admiration she

had seen directed toward herself. And now suddenly Damon was

vulnerable? Yet he didn’t imagine she would dance with him?

“Of course I would love to dance,” she said, realizing with a slight

shock that she hadn’t noticed before, that Damon was in flawless white

tie. Of course, it was on the one night when it might hinder them, but it

made him look like a prince of the blood.

Her lips quirked slightly at the title. Of the blood…oh, yes.

“Are you sure you know how to waltz?” she asked him.

“A good question. I took it up in 1885 because it was known to be

riotous and indecent. But it depends on whether you are speaking of the

peasant waltz, the Viennese Waltz, the Hesitation Waltz, or—”

“Oh, come on, or we’ll miss another dance.” Elena grabbed his

hand, feeling tiny sparks as if she’d stroked a cat’s fur the wrong way,

and pulled him into the swaying crowd.

Another waltz began. Music flooded into the room and lifted Elena

almost off her feet as the small hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Her body tingled all over as if she had drunk some sort of celestial elixir.

It was her favorite waltz since childhood: the one she’d been

brought up on. Tchaichovsky’s Sleeping Beauty waltz. But some child

part of her mind could never help but pairing the sweet sweeping notes

that came after the thundering, electrifying beginning together with the

words from the Disney movie version:

I know you; I danced with you once upon a dream….

As always, they brought tears to her eyes; they made her heart sing

and her feet want to fly rather than dance.

Her dress was backless. Damon’s warm hand was on her bare skin

there.

I know, something whispered to her, why they called this dance

riotous and indecent.

And now, certainly, Elena felt like a flame. We were meant to be

this way. She couldn’t remember if it was an old quote of Damon’s or

something new he was just barely whispering to her mind now. Like two

flames that join and merge into one.

You’re good, Damon told her, and this time she knew that it was

him speaking and that it was in the present.

Y ou don’t need to patronize me. I’m too happy already! Elena

laughed back. Damon was an expert, and not just at the precision of the

steps. He danced the waltz as if it were still riotous and indecent. He had

a firm lead, which of course Elena’s human strength could not break.

But he could interpret little signals of her own, about what she wanted

and he obliged her, as if they were ice dancing, as if at any moment they

might twirl and leap.

Elena’s stomach was slowly melting and taking her other internal

organs with it.

And it never once occurred to her to think what her high school

friends and rivals and enemies would have thought of her melting over

classical music. She was free of petty spite, petty shame over

differences. She was through with labeling. She wished that she could go

back to show everyone that she’d never meant it in the first place.

The waltz was over all too soon and Elena wanted to push the

Replay button and do it from the beginning again. There was a moment

just when the music stopped where she and Damon were looking at each

other, with equal exaltation and yearning and—

And then Damon bowed over her hand. “There is more to the waltz

than just moving your feet,” he said, not looking up at her. “There is a

swaying grace that can be put into the movements, a leaping flame of

joy and oneness—with the music, with a partner. Those are not matters

of expertise. Thank you very much for giving me the pleasure.”

Elena laughed because she wanted to cry. She never wanted to stop

dancing. She wanted to tango with Damon—a real tango, the kind you

were supposed to have to get married after. But there was another

mission…a necessary mission that had to be completed.

And, as she turned, there were a whole crowd of other things in

front of her. Men, demons, vampires, beastlike creatures. All of them

wanted a dance. Damon’s tuxedoed back was walking away from her.

Damon!

He paused but did not turn back. Yes?

Help me! We need to find the other half of the key!

It seemed to take him a moment to assess the situation, but then he

understood. He came back to her, and taking her by the hand said in a

clear, ringing voice, “This girl is my…personal assistant. I do not desire

that she dance with anyone other than myself.”

There was a restless murmuring at this. The kind of slaves that got

taken to balls of this sort were not usually the kind that were forbidden

to interact with strangers. But just then there was a sort of flurry at the

side of the room, eventually pressing toward the opposite side where

Damon and Elena were.

“What is it?” Elena asked, the dance and the key both forgotten.

“Who is it, I’d ask, rather,” Damon replied. “And I’d answer: our

hostess, Lady Bloddeuwedd herself.”

Elena found herself crowding behind other people to get a glimpse

of this most extraordinary creature. But when she actually saw the girl

standing alone in the doorway to the ballroom, she gasped.

She was made out of flowers… Elena remembered. What would a

girl made out of flowers look like?

She would have skin like the faintest blush of pink on an apple

blossom, Elena thought, staring unashamedly. Her cheeks would be

slightly deeper pink, like a dawn-colored rose. Her eyes, enormous in

her delicate, perfect face, would be the color of larkspur, with heavy

feathery black lashes that would make them droop half-shut, as if she

walked always half in a dream. And she would have yellow hair as pale

as primroses, falling down almost to the floor, wound in braids that were

themselves incorporated into thicker braids until the whole mass was

brought together just above her delicate ankles.

Her lips would be as red as poppies, half-open and inviting. And

she would give off a scent that was like a bouquet of all the first

blossoms of spring. She would walk as if swaying in the breeze.

Elena could only remember standing, gazing after this vision like

the dozens of other guests around her. Just one more second to drink in

such loveliness, her mind begged.

“But what was she wearing?” Elena heard herself say aloud. She

could not remember either a stunning dress or a glimpse of lustrous

apple-blossom skin through the many braids.

“Some sort of gown. It was made out of what else? Flowers,”

Damon put in wryly. “She was wearing a dress made of every kind of

flower I’ve ever seen. I don’t understand how they stayed put—maybe

they were silk and sewn together.” He was the only one who didn’t seem

dazzled by this vision.

“I wonder if she would talk to us—just a few words,” Elena said.

She was longing to hear the delicate, magical girl’s voice.

“I doubt it,” a man in the crowd answered her. “She doesn’t talk

much—at least until midnight. Say! It’s you! How’re you feeling?”

“Very well, thank you,” Elena replied politely, and then quickly

stepped back. She recognized the speaker as one of the young men who

had forced their cards on Damon at the end of the Godfather’s

ceremony, the night of her Discipline.

Now she just wanted to get away unobtrusively. But there were too

many of the men, and it was clear that they were not about to let her and

Damon go.

“This is the girl I told you about. She goes into a trance and no

matter how she’s marked; she doesn’t feel a thing—”

“—blood running down her sides like water and she never

flinched—”

“They’re a professional act. They go on the road….”

Elena was just about to say, coolly, that Bloddeuwedd had strictly

forbidden this kind of barbarism at her party, when she heard one of the

young vampires saying, “Don’t you know, I was the one who persuaded

Lady Bloddeuwedd to ask you to this get-together. I told her about your

act and she was most interested to see it.”

Well, scratch one excuse, Elena thought. But at least be nice to

these young men. They might be helpful somehow later.

“I’m afraid I can’t do it tonight,” she said, quietly, so that they

would be quiet themselves. “I’ll apologize to Lady Bloddeuwedd

directly, of course. But it just isn’t possible.”

“Yes, it is.” Damon’s voice, just behind her, astounded her. “It’s

quite possible—given that someone finds my amulet.”

Damon! What are you saying?

Hush! What I have to.

“Unfortunately, about three and a half weeks ago I lost a very

important amulet. It looks like this.” He brought out the half of the fox

key and let them all take a good look at it.

“Is that what you used to do the trick?” someone asked, but Damon

was far too clever for that.

“No, many people saw me do the act just a week or so ago without

it. This is a personal amulet, but with part of it missing, I simply don’t

feel like doing magic.”

“It looks like a little fox. You’re not a kitsune?” someone—too

clever for their own good, Elena thought—asked next.

“It may look like that to you. It’s actually an arrow. An arrow with

two green stones at the arrowhead. It’s a—masculine charm.”

A female voice somewhere in the crowd said: “I shouldn’t think

you need any more masculine charm than you have right now!” and

there was laughter.

“N evertheless”—Damon’s eyes took on a steely glint—“without the

amulet my assistant and I will not perform.”

“But—with it you will? I say, are you saying that you lost your

amulet here?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Just around the time the party

arrangements were being set up.” Damon flashed a beautiful, haunting

smile at the young vampires and then turned it off suddenly. “I had no

idea I would have your help, and I was trying to find a way to get an

invitation. So I took a look around to see how the place would be laid

out.”

“Don’t tell me it was before the grass was rolled,” someone said

apprehensively.

“Unfortunately, yes. And I was given a psychic message, which

told me that the k—the amulet is buried somewhere here.”

There was a chorus of groans from the crowd.

Then there were individual voices raised, pointing out the

difficulties: the rock-hardness of the rolled grass, the many ballrooms

with their many floral arrangements in soil, the kitchen garden and

flower gardens (which we haven’t even seen yet, Elena thought.)

“I realize the virtual impossibility of finding this,” Damon said,

taking the half of the fox key back into his hand and making it disappear

neatly by passing it near Elena’s hand, which was ready to receive it.

She now had a special place for it—Lady Ulma had seen to that.

Damon was saying, “That is why I simply said no at the beginning.

But you pressed me, and now I’ve given you the full answer.”

There was some more grumbling, but then people began walking

out in ones and twos and threes, talking about the best places to start

looking.

Damon, they’re going to destroy Bloddeuwedd’s grounds, Elena

protested silently.

Good. We’ll offer all the jewels you three girls have on you, as

well as all the gold I have on me, as a recompense. But what four people

can’t do, maybe a thousand can.

Elena sighed. I still wish we’d had the chance to talk to

Bloddeuwedd. Not just to hear her speak, but to ask her some questions.

I mean what reason would a beautiful blossom like her have to protect

Shinichi and Misao?

Damon’s telepathic answer was brief. Well, let’s try the top rooms,

then. That was where she was headed, anyway.

They found a case of crystal stairs—quite difficult to locate when

all the walls were transparent, and frightening to ascend. Once on the

second floor they looked for another one. Eventually Elena found it, by

stumbling over the first step.

“Oh,” she said, looking from the step, which now showed itself

through a line of red across its front edge, to her shin, which showed the

same damage. “Well, it may be invisible, but we aren’t.”

“It’s not quite invisible.” Damon was channeling Power to his

eyes, she knew. She’d been doing the same—but these days she

wondered which of them had more of her blood in them: him or her?

“Don’t strain yourself, I can see the steps,” he said. “Just shut your

eyes.”

“My eyes—” Before she could ask why she knew why and before

she could scream he had picked her up, his body warm and solid and the

only solid thing anywhere around. He headed up the stairs holding her so

that her dress was out of the way of the blood droplets that fell freely

into space.

For someone afraid of heights, it was a wild, terrifying ride: even

though she knew Damon was in top condition and would not drop her

and even though she was certain he could see where he was going. Still,

left to herself and her own volition, she would never have made it farther

than the first stair. As it was, she didn’t even dare wiggle much in case

she threw Damon off balance. She could only whimper and try to

endure. When, an eternity later, they reached the top, Elena wondered who

would carry her down, or if she would be left here the rest of her life.

They were confronted by Bloddeuwedd, the most enchantingly

inhuman creature Elena had yet seen. Enchanting…but odd. Was there

not a slight primrose pattern to her hair in back and on the sides? Wasn’t

her face actually the shape of an apple-blossom petal as well as having

the petal’s faint bloom?

“You are in my private library,” she said.

And, as if a mirror had cracked, Elena came free of the last of

Bloddeuwedd’s glamour.

The gods had made her out of flowers…but flowers don’t speak.

Bloddeuwedd’s voice was toneless and flat. It ruined the image of the

flower-made girl completely.

“We’re sorry,” Damon said—naturally not at all out of breath.

“But we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“If you think I will help you, I will not,” the flower-petal girl said

in the same nasal tone. “I hate humans.”

“But I am a vampire, as you have surely already discerned,”

Damon was beginning, laying the charm on thick, when Bloddeuwedd

interrupted him. “Once a human, always a human.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Damon’s loss of control might have been the best thing that could

have happened, Elena thought, trying to keep behind him. He was so

clearly sincere about his scorn for humans that Bloddeuwedd softened a

little.

“What did you come to ask?”

“Only if you had seen one of two kitsune lately: they’re brother

and sister and call themselves Shinichi and Misao.”

“Yes.”

“Or they might—I’m sorry? Yes? ”

“The thieves came to my house at night. I was at a party. I flew

back from the party and almost caught them. Kitsune are hard to catch,

though.”

“Where…” Damon swallowed. “Where were they?”

“Running down the front stairs.”

“And do you remember the date that they were here?”

“It was the night that the grounds were made ready for this party.

Stone rollers went over the grass. The canopy was erected.”

Weird things to do at night, Elena thought, but then she

remembered—again. The light was always the same.

But her heart was beating fast. Shinichi and Misao could only have

been here for one reason: to drop off half of the fox key.

And maybe drop it in the Great Ballroom, Elena thought. She

watched dully as the entire outside of the library rotated, almost like a

giant planetarium, so that Bloddeuwedd could pick out a globe and place

it in some contraption that must make the music play in various rooms.

“Excuse me,” Damon said.

“This is my private library,” Bloddeuwedd said coldly against the

swelling of the glorious ending to the Firebird Suite.

“Meaning now we must leave?”

“Meaning now I am going to kill you.”

“W hat?” shouted Damon over the music, while adding: Run—go!

telepathically to Elena.

If it had merely been Elena’s life, she would have been glad

enough to die here with the thunderous beauty of Firebird all around

her, rathr than facing those steep, invisible steps alone.

But it wasn’t just her life. It was Stefan’s life, too. Still, the flower

maiden didn’t look particularly menacing, and Elena couldn’t summon

up enough adrenaline to try making it down that hidous stairway.

Damon, let’s both go. We have to search the Great Ballroom

outside. Only you’re strong enough….

A hesitation. Damon would rather fight than face that enormous,

impossible green field outside, Elena thought.

But Bloddeuwedd, despite her words, was now spinning the room

around them again, so that she, at the edge of some invisible walkway,

could find the exact orb she wanted.

Damon lifted Elena in his arms and said: Shut your eyes.

Elena not only shut her eyes, but put her hands over them as well.

If Damon was going to drop her, she wasn’t going to help matters by

shouting “Look out!” as he did it.

The sensations themselves were sickening enough. Damon leaped

from step to step like an ibex. He seemed barely to touch the steps in

going down and Elena wondered—quite suddenly—if anything were

after them.

If so, it was information she needed to know. She began to lift her

hands and heard Damon whisper-snarl “Keep them shut!” in a voice that

few people liked to argue with.

Elena peeked out between her hands, met Damon’s exasperated

eyes, and saw nothing following them. She clamped her hands back

together and prayed.

If you were really a slave, you wouldn’t last a day here, you know,

Damon informed her, taking a final leap into space and then setting her

down on invisible—but at least level—ground.

I wouldn’t want to, Elena sent coldly. I swear, I’d rather die.

Be careful what you promise, Damon flashed his splendid smile

down at her suddenly. You may end up in other dimensions trying to

fulfill your word.

Elena didn’t even try to one-up him. They were out, free, and

racing through the glass house down to the stairs to the lower floor—a

little tricky in her state of mind, but bearable—and finally out the door.

On the grass of the Great Ballroom they found Meredith and

Bonnie…and Sage.

He was actually in white tie as well, although his jacket strained at

his shoulders. In addition, Talon was sitting on one—so the problem

might be taken care of fairly soon, as she was ripping the material and

drawing blood. Sage didn’t seem aware of it. Saber was at his master’s

side, looking at Elena with eyes too thoughtful to be mere animal eyes,

but without malice.

“Thank God you came back!” Bonnie cried, running to them.

“Sage came and he has a marvelous idea.”

Even Meredith was excited. “You remember how Damon said we

should have brought a diviner? Well, we have two now.” She turned to

Sage. “Please tell them.”

“As a rule, I don’t take these two to parties.” Sage reached down to

scratch under Saber’s throat. “But a little bird told me that you might be

in trouble.” His hand moved up to stroke Talon, ruffling the falcon’s

feathers slightly. “So, dites-moi, please: Just how much have you two

been handling the half-key you do possess?”

“I touched it tonight and in the beginning, the night we found it,”

said Elena. “But Lady Ulma handled it and Lucen made a chest for it

and we’ve all handled that.”

“But outside the box?”

“I’ve held it and looked at it once or twice,” said Damon.

“ Eh bien! The kitsune smells should be much stronger on it. And

kitsune have very distinctive smells.”

“So you mean that Saber—” Elena’s voice gave out for pure

faintness.

“Can sniff out anything with the smell of kitsune on it. Meanwhile,

Talon has very good eyesight. She can fly overhead and look for the

glint of gold in case it’s in plain sight somewhere. Now show them what

they will be searching for.”

Elena obligingly held out the crescent shaped half-key for Saber to

sniff.

“ Voilà! And Talon, now you take a good look.” Sage backed away

to what was, Elena supposed, Talon’s optimal seeing distance. Then

when he came back, he said, “ Commençons! ” and the black dog

exploded away, nose to ground, while the falcon took off in grand, high,

sweeping circles.

“So you think the kitsune were on this grass?” Elena asked Sage,

as Saber began racing back and forth, nose still just above the

grass—and then suddenly veered out onto the middle of the marble

steps.

“But assuredly, they were here. You see how Saber runs, like a

black panther, with his head low, and his tail straight? He has business in

hand, him! He is hot on the scent.”

I know someone else who gives off the same feeling, Elena

thought as she glanced back at Damon, who stood with his arms folded,

motionless, coiled like a spring, waiting for whatever news the animals

would bring.

She happened to glance at Sage at the same moment, and she saw

an expression on his face that—well, it was probably the same