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Mrs. Flowers.”

“True,” Damon said coldly from behind Matt. “I couldn’t help her. If I were still a

vampire…but I’m not. Elena has burns, mainly. All I could think of was an ice pack

or some kind of poultice. Sorry to disprove all your clever theories.”

“Oh my heavens!” cried Mrs. Flowers. “You mean dear Elena’s waiting right now

in the kitchen for a poultice?” She hurried out of the foyer toward the kitchen.

Stefan was still coming down the stairs, calling, “Mrs. Flowers, she scalded her

arm and leg—she says because Damon didn’t recognize her in the dark and jostled

her. And that he thought it was an intruder in his room, and nicked her throat with a

knife. The rest of us will be in the parlor if you need help.”

Bonnie cried, “Stefan, maybe she’s innocent—but he isn’t! Even according to

you, he burned her—that’s torture —and he put a knife to her throat! Maybe he

threatened her to make her tell us what we wanted to hear. Maybe she’s still a

hostage right now and we don’t know it!”

Stefan flushed. “It’s so hard to explain,” he said very softly. “And I keep trying to

tune it out. But so far—some of my Powers have been growing…faster than my

ability to control them. Most of the time I’m asleep, so it doesn’t matter. I was

asleep until a few minutes ago. But I woke up and Elena was telling Damon that

Mrs. Flowers doesn’t have the star ball. She was upset, and injured—and I could

feel where she’d been injured. And then suddenly I heard you, Bonnie. You’re a

very strong telepath. Then I heard the rest of you talking about Elena….”

Oh my God. How insane, Matt was thinking. His mouth was babbling some “Sure,

sure, our mistake” gibberish, and his feet followed Meredith’s to the parlor as if

they were attached to her Italian sandals.

But the blood on Damon’s mouth…

There had to be some mundane reason for the blood, too. Stefan had said that

Damon had nicked Elena with a knife. As to how the blood got smeared around;

well, that actually didn’t sound like vampirism to Matt. He’d been a donor for Stefan

at least a dozen times in the last days and the process was always very neat.

It was strange, too, he thought, that it had never occurred to any of them that,

even from the top of the house, Stefan might be able to hear their thoughts directly.

Could he always do that? Matt thought, wondering at the same time whether

Stefan was doing it right now.

“I try not to listen to thoughts, unless I’m invited or I have a good reason,” Stefan

said. “But when anybody mentions Elena, especially if they sound upset—that I

can’t help. It’s like when you’re in a noisy place and you can barely hear, but when

somebody says your name you hear it instantly.”

“It’s called the Cocktail Party Phenomenon,” Meredith said. Her voice was quiet

and remorseful as she was trying to calm the mortified Bonnie. Matt felt another tug

at his heart.

“Well, you can call it whatever you want,” he said, “but what it means is that you

can listen in on our minds any time you like.”

“Not any time,” Stefan said, wincing. “When I was drinking animal blood I wasn’t

strong enough unless I really worked at it. By the way, it may please my friends to

know that I’m going back to hunting animals by tomorrow or the next day, depending

on what Mrs. Flowers says,” he added with a significant glance around the room.

His eyes lingered on Damon, who was lounging against the wall by the window,

looking disheveled and very, very dangerous. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget who

saved my life when I was dying. For that I honor and thank them—and, well, we’ll

have a party sometime.” He blinked hard and turned away. The two girls melted at

once—even Meredith sniffled.

Damon heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Animal blood? Oh, brilliant. Make yourself

as weak as you can, little brother, even with three or four willing donors around you.

Then, when it comes to the final showdown with Shinichi and Misao, you’ll be about

as effective as a piece of damp tissue paper.”

Bonnie started. “Is there going to be a showdown…soon?”

“As soon as Shinichi and Misao can manage it,” Stefan said quietly. “I think

they’d rather not give me time to get well. The whole town is supposed to go up in

fire and ashes, you know. But I can’t keep asking you and Meredith and Matt—and

Elena—to donate blood. You’ve already kept me alive the last few days, and I don’t

know how to repay you for it.”

“Repay us by getting as strong as you can,” Meredith said in her quiet, level

voice. “But, Stefan, can I ask a few questions?”

“Of course,” Stefan said, standing by a chair. He didn’t sit himself until Meredith,

with Bonnie almost in her lap, had sunk down on the love seat.

Then he said, “Fire.”

“F irst,” Meredith asked, “is Damon right? If you go back to animal blood, will you

be seriously weakened?”

Stefan smiled. “I’ll be the way I was when I first met you,” he said. “Strong enough

to do this.” He bent toward the fire irons right below Damon’s elbow, murmuring

absently, “Scusilo per favore” and removed the poker.

Damon rolled his eyes. But when Stefan, in one fluid motion, bent the poker into a

shape and then straightened it immediately back and replaced it, Matt could

swear that there was ice-cold envy in Damon’s usual poker-player expression.

“And that was iron, which is resistant to all eldritch forces,” Meredith said evenly,

as Stefan stepped away from the fireplace.

“But of course he’s been imbibing from you three charming girls for the past few

days—not to mention the nuclear powerhouse that dear Elena has become,”

Damon said, clapping his hands three times slowly. “Oh…Mutt. Sono spiacente —I

mean, I didn’t mean to add you in with the girls. No offense meant.”

“None taken,” Matt said through his teeth. If he could, just once, wipe that

flashing, there-and-gone smile off Damon’s face, he would die happy, he thought.

“But, the truth is that you have become a very…willing…donor for Dear Brother,

haven’t you?” Damon added, his lips twitching slightly, as if only the strictest control

kept him from smiling.

Matt took two steps toward Damon. It was all he could do not to get right up in

Damon’s face, even though something in his brain always screamed suicide when

he had thoughts like that.

“You’re right,” he said as evenly as possible. “I’ve been donating blood to Stefan

just like the girls. He’s my friend, and a couple of days ago he looked like he’d just

gotten out of a concentration camp.”

“Of course,” Damon murmured, as if chastened, but then he went on in even

softer tones, “My little brother has always been popular with both—well, with ladies

present, I will say genders. Even with male kitsune; which of course is why I am in

this mess.”

Matt literally saw red as if he were looking through a haze of blood at Damon.

“Speaking of which, what happened to Sage, Damon? He was a vampire. If we

could find him, your problem would be over, right?” Meredith asked.

It was a good riposte, just as all Meredith’s cool responses were. But Damon

spoke with his fathomless black eyes fixed on Meredith’s face. “The less you know

and say about Sage, the better. I wouldn’t speak of him lightly—he has friends in

low places. But to answer your question: No, I would not let Sage make me into a

vampire. It would just complicate things.”

“Shinichi said good luck on finding out who he is,” Meredith said, still calm. “Do

you know what he meant by that?”

Damon shrugged fluidly. “What I know is my own business. He spends time in the

lowest and darkest of the Dark Dimensions.”

Bonnie burst out, “Why did Sage go? Oh, Damon, did he go because of us? Why

did he leave Talon and Saber to watch over us, then? And, oh—oh— oh, Damon,

I’m so sorry! So, so sorry! ” She slid off the love seat and bent her head so that

only strawberry curls were visible. With her small pale hands on the floor to brace

her, she looked as if she were about to bow her head to the ground at his feet.

“This is all my fault and everyone’s angry—but it was just so horrible I had to

believe the worst things I could think of!”

It was a tension-breaker. Nearly everyone laughed. It was so Bonnie, and so

true of all of them. So human.

Matt wanted to pick her up and put her back on the love seat. Meredith was

always the best medicine for Bonnie. But as Matt found himself reaching for her, he

was confounded by two other pairs of hands doing the same thing. One was

Meredith’s own long, slender olive-skinned hands, and the other pair were male,

with even longer tapering fingers.

Matt’s hand clenched into a fist. Let Meredith take her, he thought, and his

clumsy fist—somehow—got in the way of Damon’s reaching fingers. Meredith lifted

Bonnie easily and sat back on the love seat. Damon lifted his dark eyes to Matt’s

and Matt saw perfect comprehension there.

“You really ought to forgive her, Damon,” Meredith, ever the impartial referee,

said bluntly. “I don’t think she’ll be able to sleep tonight otherwise.”

Damon shrugged, cold as an iceberg. “Maybe…someday.”

Matt could feel his muscles clench. What kind of bastard said that to little

Bonnie? Because of course she was listening.

“Damn you,” Matt said under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Damon’s voice was no longer languid and falsely polite, but

suddenly a whiplash.

“You heard me,” Matt growled. “And if you didn’t, maybe we’d better go outside

so I can say it louder,” he added, soaring on the wings of bravado.

He left behind a wail of “No!” from Bonnie, and a gentle “Sh,” from Meredith.

Stefan said, “Both of you—” in a commanding voice, but then he faltered and

coughed, which both Matt and Damon took as a chance to sprint for the door.

It was still very warm outside on the boardinghouse porch. “Is this the killing

ground?” Damon asked lazily when they had descended the steps and stood

beside the gravel path.

“It’s fine by me,” Matt said briefly, knowing in his bones that Damon would fight

dirty.

“Yes, this is definitely close enough,” Damon said, flashing an unnecessarily

brilliant smile in Matt’s direction. “You can yell for help while little brother is in the

parlor, and he’ll have plenty of time to rescue you. And now we’re going to solve the

problems of what you’re doing in my business and why you are—”

Matt punched him in the nose.

He had no idea what Damon was trying to do. If you asked a guy to step outside,

then you asked him to step outside. Then you went for the guy. You didn’t stand

around talking. If you tried that, you’d be stuck with the label of “coward” or worse.

Damon didn’t seem like the type who needed to be told that.

But then, Damon had always been able to repel any attack on him while he got as

many insults as he liked…before.

Before, he’d have just broken every bone in my hand and gone on baiting me,

Matt guessed. But now…I’m almost as fast as him, and he simply got taken by

surprise.

Matt flexed his hand gingerly. It always hurt, of course, but if Meredith could do it

to Caroline, then he could do it to…

Damon?

Damn, did I just take down Damon?

Run, Honeycutt, he seemed to hear the voice of his old coach telling him. Run.

Get out of town. Change your name.

Tried that. Didn’t work. Never even got a T-shirt, Matt thought sourly.

But Damon wasn’t leaping up like a flaming demon from hell, with the eyes of a

dragon and the strength of a raging bull to annihilate Matt. It looked and sounded

more as if he were shocked and indignant from his disheveled hair to his earthstained

boots.

“You…ignorant…childish…” He lapsed into Italian.

“Look,” Matt said. “I’m here to fight, okay? And the smartest guy I ever knew

said: ‘If you’re gonna fight, don’t talk. If you’re gonna talk, don’t fight.’”

Damon tried to snarl as he knelt up and pulled spiny teasel and prickly sida out of

his distressed black jeans. But the snarl didn’t come out quite right. Maybe it was

the new shape of his canines. Maybe it just didn’t have enough conviction behind it.

Matt had seen enough defeated guys to know that this fight was over. A strange

exaltation came over him. He was going to keep all his limbs and organs! It was a

precious, precious moment.

All right, then, should I offer him a hand? Matt wondered, to be answered

instantaneously by, Sure, if you’d offer a hand to a temporarily stunned crocodile.

What do you really need ten whole fingers for, anyway?

Oh, well, he thought, turning to go back into the front door. As long as he lived—

which, conceded, might not be too long—he would remember this moment.

As he went in, he bumped into Bonnie, who was rushing out.

“Oh, Matt, oh, Matt,” she cried. She was looking wildly around. “Did you hurt him?

Did he hurt you?”

Matt smacked his fist into the palm of his hand, once. “He’s still sitting down back

there,” he added helpfully.

“Oh, no!” Bonnie gasped, and she hurried out the door.

Okay. Less spectacular of a night. But still a pretty good one.

“They did what?” Elena asked Stefan. Cold poultices anchored by tight bandages

were wrapped around her arm, hand, and thigh—Mrs. Flowers had cut her jeans off

short—and Mrs. Flowers was wiping away the dried blood on her neck with herbs.

Her heart was pounding with more than pain. Even she hadn’t realized that

Stefan was tuned in to the entire house when he was awake. All she could do was

to shakily thank God that he’d been asleep while she and Damon—no! She had to

stop thinking about it, and right now!

“They went outside to fight,” Stefan said. “It’s idiotic, of course. But it’s a matter

of honor, too. I can’t interfere.”

“Well, I can—if you’re done, Mrs. Flowers.”

“Yes, dear Elena,” Mrs. Flowers said, winding a bandage around Elena’s throat.

“Now you shouldn’t get tetanus.”

Elena stopped in mid-motion. “I thought you got tetanus from rusty blades,” she

said. “Da—this one looked brand-new.”

“Tetanus comes from dirty blades, my dear,” Mrs. Flowers corrected her. “But

this”—she held up a bottle—“is Grand mama’s own personal recipe that has kept

many a wound disease-free down the cen—down the years.”

“Wow,” Elena said. “I never even heard of Grand mama before. Was she a—

healer?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Flowers said earnestly. “She was actually accused of being a

witch. But at her trial they could prove nothing. Her accusers seemed not even to

be capable of coherent speech.”

Elena looked at Stefan only to find that he was looking at her. Matt was in danger

of being dragged off to a kangaroo court—for allegedly assaulting Caroline Forbes

while under the influence of some unknown and terrible drug. Anything to do with

courts was interesting to both of them. But looking at Stefan’s concerned face,

Elena decided not to pursue the subject. She squeezed his hand. “We have to go

now—but let’s talk about Grand mama later. I think she sounds fascinating.”

“I just remember her as a crotchety old recluse, who didn’t suffer fools gladly and

thought just about everyone was a fool,” Mrs. Flowers said. “I suppose I was going

down the same path until you children came and made me sit up and take notice.

Thank you.”

“We’re the ones who should thank you,” Elena began, hugging the old woman,

feeling her heart stop pounding. Stefan was looking at her with open love. It was all

going to be all right—for her.

I’m worried about Matt, she thought to Stefan, testing the waters more

vigorously. Damon’s still so fast—and you know he doesn’t like Matt a bit.

I think, Stefan returned with a wry smile, that that is a rather stunning

understatement. But I also think you shouldn’t worry until we see who comes

back injured.

Elena eyed that smile, and thought for a moment about impulsive, athletic Matt.

After a moment, she smiled back. She was feeling both guilty and protective—and

safe. Stefan always made her feel safe. And right now, she wanted to spoil him.

In the front yard, Bonnie was abasing herself. She couldn’t help thinking, even now,

about how handsome Damon looked, how wild and dark and ferocious and

gorgeous. She couldn’t help thinking about the times he’d smiled at her, laughed at

her, come to save her at her urgent call. She had honestly thought that someday…

But now she felt as if her heart were breaking in two.

“I just want to bite my tongue out,” she said. “I should never have assumed

anything from what I saw.”

“How could you possibly have known that I wasn’t stealing Elena away from

Stefan?” Damon said wearily. “It’s just the kind of thing I’d do.”

“No, it isn’t! You did so much to free Stefan from prison—you always faced the

most danger yourself—and you kept us all from being hurt. You did all that for other

people—”

Suddenly Bonnie’s upper arms were being held by hands that were so strong that

her mind was flooded with clichés. A grasp of iron. Strong as steel bands. An

inescapable grip.

And a voice like an icy torrent was coming at her.

“You don’t know anything about me, or what I want, or what I do. For all you know

I could be plotting right now. So don’t ever let me hear you talk again about such

things, or imagine that I won’t kill you if you get in my way,” Damon said.

He got up and left Bonnie sitting there, staring after him. And she’d been wrong.

She wasn’t out of tears at all.

“I thought you wanted to get out so we could talk to Damon,” Stefan said, still hand

in hand with Elena as she made a sharp right turn onto the rickety stairway that led

to the second-floor rooms and, above that, to Stefan’s attic.

“Well, unless he kills Matt and runs I don’t see what’s to keep us from talking to

him tomorrow.” Elena glanced back at Stefan and dimpled. “I took your advice and

thought a little about the two of them. Matt’s a pretty tough quarterback and they’re

both only human now, right? Anyway, it’s time for your dinner.”

“Dinner?” Stefan’s canine teeth responded automatically—embarrassingly

quickly—to the word. He really needed to have a word with Damon later and make

sure Damon understood his place as a guest at the boardinghouse—nothing more

—but it was true, he could do that tomorrow. It might even be more effective

tomorrow, when Damon’s own pent-up rage was spent.

He pressed his tongue against his fangs, trying to force them back down, but the

small stimulation caused them to sharpen, nicking his lip. Now they were aching

pleasantly. All in response to a single word: dinner.

Elena threw him a teasing glance over her shoulder and giggled. She was one of

those lucky females with a beautiful laugh. But this was a clearly mischievous

giggle, straight from her wicked, scheming childhood. It made Stefan want to tickle

her to hear more; it made him want to laugh with her; it made him want to grab her

and demand to know the joke. Instead he said, “What’s up, love?”

“Someone has sharp teeth,” she responded innocently, and giggled again. He

lost himself in admiration for a second and also suddenly lost hold of her hand.

Laughing like a musical cascade of white water over rock, she ran up the stairs

ahead of him, both to tease and to show him what good shape she was in, he

thought. If she had stumbled, or faltered, she knew he would decide that her

donation of blood was harming her.

So far it didn’t seem to be damaging any of his friends, or he would have insisted

on a rest for that person. But even Bonnie, as delicate as a dragonfly, hadn’t

seemed to be the worse for it.

Elena raced up the stairs knowing that Stefan was smiling behind her, and there

was no shadow of mistrust in his mind. She didn’t deserve it, but that only made her

more anxious to please him.

“Have you had your dinner?” Stefan asked as they reached his room.

“Long ago; roast beef—cooked.” She smiled.

“What did Damon say when he finally realized it was you and looked at the food

you’d brought?”

Elena made herself giggle again. It was all right to have tears in her eyes; her

burns and cuts hurt and the episode with Damon justified any amount of weeping.

“He called it bloody hamburger. It was steak tartar. But, Stefan, I don’t want to

talk about him now.”

“No, of course you don’t, love.” Stefan was immediately contrite. And he was

trying so hard not to seem eager to feed—but he couldn’t even control his canines.

And Elena was in no mood to dally either. She perched on the bed, carefully

unwinding the bandage Mrs. Flowers had just wound on it. Stefan suddenly looked

troubled.

Love —He stopped abruptly.

What? Elena finished with the bandage, studying Stefan’s face.

Well—shall I take it out of your arm instead? You’re already in pain and I don’t

want to fool with Mrs. Flowers’s anti-tetanus treatment.

There’s still plenty of room around it, Elena said cheerfully.

But a bite on top of those cuts …He stopped again.

Elena looked at him. She knew her Stefan. There was something he wanted to

say. Tell me, she pressed him.

Stefan finally met her eyes directly, and then put his mouth close to her ear. “I

can heal the cuts,” he whispered. “But—it would mean opening them again so they

can bleed. That will hurt.”

“And it might poison you!” Elena said sharply. “Don’t you see? Mrs. Flowers put

heaven knows what on them—”

She could feel his laughter, which sent warm tingles down her spine. “You can’t

kill a vampire so easily,” he said. “We only die if you stake us through the heart. But

I don’t want to hurt you—even to help you. I could Influence you not to feel anything

—”

Once again, Elena cut him off. “No! No, I don’t mind if it hurts. As long as you get

as much blood as you need.”

Stefan respected Elena enough to know that he shouldn’t ask the same question

twice. And he could hardly restrain himself any longer. He watched her lie down and

then stretched out beside her, bending to get to the green-stained cuts. He licked

gently, at first rather tentatively, at the wounds, and then ran a satiny tongue over

them. He had no idea how the process worked or what chemicals he was stroking

over Elena’s injuries. It was as automatic as breathing was to humans. But after a

minute, he chuckled softly.

What? What? Elena demanded, smiling herself as his breath tickled.

Your blood’s laced with lemon balm, Stefan replied. Grand mama’s healing

recipe has lemon balm and alcohol in it! Lemon balm wine!

Is that good or bad? Elena asked uncertainly.

It’s fine—for a change. But I still like your blood straight the best. Does it hurt

too much?

Elena could feel herself flush. Damon had healed her cheek this way, back in the

Dark Dimension, when Elena had, with her own body, protected a bleeding slave

from a whiplash. She knew Stefan knew the story, and must know, each time he

saw her, that the almost-invisible white line on her cheekbone had been stroked just

this gently into healing.

Compared to that, these scratches are nothing, she sent. But a sudden chill

went through her.

Stefan! I never begged your pardon for protecting Ulma at the risk of not being

able to save you. Or, worse—for dancing while you were starving—for keeping

up the society pretense so we could get the Twin Fox key —

Do you think I care about that? Stefan’s voice was mock-angry as he gently

sealed one cut at her throat. You did what you had to in order to track me—find

me—save me—after I’d left you alone here. Don’t you think I understand? I didn’t

deserve the saving—

Now Elena felt a small sob choke her. Never say that! Never! And I suppose—I

suppose I knew you would forgive me—or I would have felt every jewel I wore

burning like a brand. We had to chase you down like a fox with hounds—and we

were so scared that a single misstep could mean you’d be hanged…or we would

be.

Stefan was holding her tightly now. How can I make you understand? he asked.

You gave up everything—even your freedom—for me. You became slaves. You

—you—were “Disciplined”…

Elena asked wildly, How do you know that? Who told you?

You told me, beloved. In your sleep—in your dreams.

But, Stefan —Damon took the pain for me. Did you know that?

Stefan was silent a moment, then responded, I…see. I didn’t know that before.

Scenes strewn from the Dark Dimension bubbled in Elena’s mind. That city of

tarnished baubles—of illusive glitter, where a whiplash that spread blood across a

wall was as much celebrated as a handful of rubies strewn on the sidewalk….

Love, don’t think about it. You followed me, and you rescued me, and now

we’re here together, Stefan said. The last cut closed, he lay his cheek on hers.

That’s all I care about. You and I—together.

Elena was almost dizzily glad to be forgiven—but there was something inside her

—something that had grown and grown and grown during the weeks she was in the

Dark Dimension. A feeling for Damon that was not just the result of her need for his

help. A feeling that Elena had thought Stefan understood. A feeling that might even

change the relations between the three of them: her, Stefan, and Damon. But now

Stefan seemed to assume that everything would return to the way it was before his

kidnapping.

Oh, well, why fret about tomorrow when tonight was enough to make her weep

with joy?

This was the best feeling in the world, the knowledge that she and Stefan were

together, and she made Stefan promise her over and over that he would not ever

leave her on another quest again, no matter how briefly, no matter what the cause.

By now, Elena could not even focus on what she had been worried about before.

She and Stefan had always found heaven in each other’s arms. They were meant

to be together forever. Nothing else mattered now that she was home.

“Home” was where she and Stefan were together.

B onnie couldn’t get to sleep after Damon’s words to her. She wanted to talk to

Meredith, but there was an unseeing, unhearing lump in Meredith’s bed.

The only thing she could think of was to go down to the kitchen and huddle up with

a cup of cocoa in the den, alone with her misery. Bonnie wasn’t good at being

alone with herself.

But as it turned out, when she got to the bottom floor, she didn’t head for the

kitchen after all. She went straight to the den. Everything was dark and strangelooking

in the silent dimness. Turning on one light would just make everything else

even darker. But she managed, with shaking fingers, to twist the switch of the

standing lamp beside the couch. Now if only she could find a book or something…

She was holding on to her pillow as if it were a teddy bear, when Damon’s voice

beside her said, “Poor little redbird. You shouldn’t be up so late, you know.”

Bonnie started and bit her lip.

“I hope you’re not still hurting,” she said coldly, very much on her dignity, which