In the moment that Damon's candle went out - and thank God it had gone out, Elena thought; Damon was apt to cling to his worst impulses - the rose in the phantom's chest dul ed again to a dark pink. Jealousy snarled and wobbled ever so slightly on its feet. At that same instant, Stefan lunged for the cut across the phantom's chest and got his hand inside it, inside the phantom's torso, and grabbed for the rose.
A gout of green, viscous fluid spurted from the wound as Stefan squeezed the rose, and then the phantom screamed, a long, unearthly howl that made al the humans flinch. Bonnie clapped her hands over her ears, and Celia moaned.
For a moment, Elena thought they were going to win that easily - that by attacking the rose at the phantom's heart, Stefan had defeated it. But then the phantom steadied itself and, with a huge flexing of muscle, pul ed suddenly out of Mrs. Flowers's control, and in one smooth motion ripped Stefan away from its side, his hand coming empty out of its chest, and threw him across the garage.
Stefan hit the wal with a muffled thump, slid to the floor, and lay stil . Evidently exhausted by her battle with the phantom, Mrs. Flowers also sagged backward, and Matt rushed to catch her in his arms before she hit the ground. The phantom smiled slowly at Damon, showing its sharp teeth. Its glacier-clear eyes glittered.
"It's time to go, Damon," Jealousy said softly. "You're the strongest one here. The best of al of them, the best of anyone. But they'l always fawn over Stefan, the weakling, the brat, your useless baby brother. No matter what you do, no one wil ever care for you the way these mortals do for him. The way everyone, for hundreds of years, has always cared for Stefan. You should leave them behind. Make them suffer. Why not leave them in danger? They'd do the same to you. Elena and her friends traveled through dimensions, faced slavery, braved the greatest perils, to save Stefan, but they left you lying dead, far from home. They came back here and were happy without you. What loyalty do you owe them?"
Damon, his face in shadow now that al the candles were out, gave a dark, bitter little laugh. His black eyes gleamed in the dimness, fixed on the phantom's clear ones. There was a long silence, and Elena's breath caught in her throat. Damon stepped forward, stil holding his candle. "Don't you remember?" he said, his voice cool. "I cast you out."
And with superhuman quickness, before anyone could even blink, he lit his candle again with a flick of Power and threw it, straight and true, directly into the phantom's face.
Chapter 35
Elena leaped backward as the phantom caught fire. She was so close that the heat of the flames burned her cheeks, and she could smel her own hair smoking. Shielding her face with her hands, she eased her way forward as silently and sneakily as she could, closer and closer to the phantom. Her legs shook, but she wil ed them stil and steady.
She was consciously not letting herself look at or think about Stefan's body crumpled on the floor of the garage, in the same way she had kept herself from looking at Damon and Stefan's fight when she needed to think. Suddenly a burst of flames shot into the air, and for one dazzling second, Elena dared to hope that Damon had done it. The phantom was burning. Surely no creature of ice could withstand that.
But then she realized that the phantom was not only burning. She was also laughing.
"You fool," the phantom said to Damon, in a soft and almost tender voice. "You think fire can hurt me? Jealousy can burn hotter than fire as wel as colder than ice. You of al people should know that, Damon." She laughed her strange clinking laugh. "I can feel the jealousy, the anger that burns in you al the time, Damon, and it burns so hot I can smel the hatred and despair that live in you, and your little petty hurts and rages are meat and drink to me. You clutch them to you and pore over them like treasure. You may have succeeded in casting out a tiny piece of the multitudes of hurts that burden you, but you'l never be free of me."
Around the phantom's feet, tiny blue lines of flame ignited and spread quickly across the floor of the garage. Elena watched in horror: Were these burning traces of oil left by Mrs. Flowers's ancient car? Or was it simply the phantom's maliciousness made solid, spreading fire among them?
It didn't real y matter. What mattered was that the garage was on fire, and while the phantom might be impervious to the flames, the rest of them weren't. Smoke fil ed the musty space, and Elena and her friends began to cough. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand.
Streaking past Elena, Damon snarled and leaped for the phantom's throat.
Even in their current dire situation, Elena couldn't help admiring Damon's speed and grace. He col ided with the phantom and knocked it to the floor, then recoiled, protecting his face with his leather-clad arm. Fire, Elena remembered with a frisson of terror. Fire is one of the few things that can kill a vampire.
Her eyes watered from the smoke, but she forced them to stay open as she moved closer, circling around behind the phantom, who was back on its feet. She could hear her friends shouting, but she concentrated on the fight. The phantom was moving more awkwardly than it had been earlier, and did not immediately attack Damon. Through the flames, Elena could see that thick greenish fluid was stil trickling down its solid torso from the wound Meredith had given it. Where the liquid touched the flames, they flickered with a greenish blue tint.
Damon lunged for the phantom again, and it flung him off with a shrug. Snarling, they circled each other warily. Elena skittered around behind them, trying to stay out of Damon's way, trying to see how she could help.
A crackling from across the room distracted Elena for a second, and she glanced back to see fire climbing the far wal , reaching for the wooden shelves set around the room. She missed seeing what exactly happened next, but suddenly Damon was skidding across the floor on his back, an angry red burn glowing on his cheek.