The bedroom door creaked open, and Damon came in, silent and graceful. He looked to the bed first, a quick, worried glance, and then leaned against the doorjamb as if he was suddenly too tired to stand. His eyes, red-rimmed, met Meredith’s, and she wondered if he’d been crying. Damon might rage or let himself be consumed with bitterness, but he never cried.
But maybe now, at the end of everything, he did.
Matt parked crookedly, one wheel up on the curb, and bolted out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “I knew this would happen someday,” he gritted out, teeth clenched, as he stormed down the sidewalk toward Elena’s apartment building. “I knew Stefan and Damon would get her killed.”
Jasmine followed more slowly, her golden-brown eyes serious. “Don’t say that,” she told him, laying a hand on his arm as they waited for the elevator. “Elena’s not dead. We can’t give up on her.”
Matt bit his lip and stayed silent for the elevator ride up to Elena’s apartment. The hall was quiet, and he hesitated a moment before knocking heavily on the apartment door.
“Take the worst possible thing you can imagine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with rage, “and that’s it, that’s the truth. Always.” Beside him, Jasmine sucked in a breath and raised a hand to touch him again, just as the door swung open.
Damon was in the doorway, his pale face pinched, his dark hair messy. He looked more human than Matt had ever seen him. Before anyone could speak, Matt balled up his fist and punched Damon in the face as hard as he could.
Damon’s head rocked back slightly and he blinked in surprise, a red mark on his white cheek.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said with a thin, joyless smile. He touched his cheek lightly, and then let his hand drop, the smile disappearing. “I probably deserved that.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Matt said, shouldering past him into the apartment.
He stopped in the doorway of Elena’s bedroom. His heart sank at the sight of her.
When he was little, there had been an amusement park up on Route 40 that had a fairytale theme to it. Matt’s dad used to take him up there on Saturdays sometimes. He hadn’t thought of it for years. But now it came rushing back. Silent and still, Elena reminded him of the Sleeping Beauty in the Hall of Fairies. The blonde princess, laid out like a sacrifice, not even a hint of movement. Pale and pretty and never changing.
Matt had always thought she’d looked dead.
Jasmine moved past him into the bedroom and felt Elena’s throat for a pulse, then lifted one eyelid to look at her pupils. She bit her lip and looked back toward Matt. He could read the regret in her face.
“The doctors in Paris were baffled,” Damon said from behind him. “They’d never seen anything like this. I tried the hospital there before booking a plane home, just in case. But it was useless.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Matt said. His mouth felt too dry, and his words sounded thick to his own ears. “The Guardians wouldn’t mess around with any kind of human illness. If they gave this to her, they’re the only ones who can fix it. We just need to make them do it.”
Even as he said it, a cold rush of hopelessness spread through him. What did they have to offer the Guardians? What could possibly entice those clear-eyed, emotionless judges to give back Elena?
3
“Well, how did you get the Guardians to come when Elena made the original bargain with them?” Meredith asked. “Maybe we can convince them …” Her voice trailed off, as she clearly tried and failed to imagine the Guardians of the Celestial Court being moved by anything they had to say. They had only listened to Elena because she was valuable to them.
Damon gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper. They were wasting time, he was sure of it. The Celestial Guardians had no interest in helping them.
“The little Guardian, Andrés, went into a trance and told them Elena was ready to kill me,” he said flatly. “That brought Mylea fast enough. Unfortunately, we’ve got a shortage of Earthly Guardians around here now.”
“They saved you. Funny, isn’t it, how everyone dies except you, Damon?” Matt said, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. “Andrés. Stefan. And now—” His words broke off, and his mouth closed in a thin, miserable line.
A hot ball of hate burned in Damon’s chest, and he momentarily imagined breaking Matt’s neck. He could easily envision the shocked expression in the boy’s blue eyes, the crisp snap of his spine. Then his shoulders slumped as he let the anger drain out of him. He deserved Matt’s scorn. Everything Matt had said was true. The thing Damon was best at was survival, and now he’d outlived everyone—almost—who’d ever managed, despite everything, to love him. If Elena died, there would be no one.
He didn’t want to think about it.
As footsteps approached the apartment door, he straightened, then rose from his seat. He thought he recognized the quick, light steps pattering down the hall, and the steady, heavier tread that followed. The door opened, and Bonnie burst in.
“We got here as fast as we could,” she said rapidly. “The airport was a zoo, and then the traffic coming down from Richmond was—” She broke off. “Oh, Meredith.” She flung herself across the room and into the taller girl’s arms.
They clung to each other for a minute, Bonnie’s face buried in Meredith’s shoulder, and then she raised her head and held it high, sticking out her chin bravely. “So, I’m gone for a couple of weeks and everything falls apart?” she said. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her tone was casual, even joking.