Good girl. Damon knew the little redbird would stay brave, even though she was as scared as they all were.
Zander was leaning in the doorway, watching them all patiently. His longish white-blond hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were solemn.
Letting go of Meredith, Bonnie took a deep breath. “So, what can I do?”
“Well,” Meredith said, “we think you’re probably our best chance of getting in touch with Mylea or the other Celestial Guardians. If you can go into a trance and reach them, maybe we can convince them to save Elena.”
Bonnie grimaced. “I’ve been trying,” she said. “Ever since you called me. But … nothing. If they can hear me, they’re not responding.”
“It’s not going to work,” Damon said, unable to stop himself. Why would the Guardians listen to them? If they were letting this happen to Elena, the Guardians had written her and her Powers off. They’d never had the slightest interest in the rest of them, other than planning to kill Damon himself.
“You have a better idea?” Matt sneered.
“Try to contact Elena instead,” Damon said quickly, the idea coming to him as he spoke. “You did it when Klaus had her, and we didn’t have anything, not even a body then. Now we’ve still got Elena, she’s just … We can’t reach her.” His chest felt uncomfortably tight as he finished the sentence.
Whatever Bonnie heard in his voice, her face softened. “I’ll try,” she said and made her way to where Elena laid.
The way Elena’s hands were folded across her chest was too much like a corpse, and Damon grimaced.
“Oh, Elena,” Bonnie said, her brown eyes shining with tears. Standing at the bedside, she touched Elena’s forehead gently, just for a moment.
The others trailed in after her. Jasmine and Matt stood on the other side of the bed, Matt only glancing at Elena briefly before fixing his gaze on the wall. Jasmine took his hand and squeezed it hard. Zander leaned against the wall, holding a bag of Bonnie’s supplies, while Meredith hovered at the foot of the bed, her fingers twisting nervously. Damon stood in the doorway.
Bonnie took Elena’s limp hands in hers and shut her eyes, her forehead crinkling in concentration. Then she opened her eyes again and shook her head, letting go of Elena. “I’m going to need to focus,” she said. “Can you guys wait outside?”
Damon stepped farther into the room, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m staying.”
Bonnie sighed. “Is it any use arguing with you about this?” she asked. When Damon stayed silent, she gave him a rueful half smile. “Then I won’t bother. But everybody else out. I need quiet.”
Matt looked like he wanted to object, but he filed out with the others. As Zander left, he handed the bag he was holding to Bonnie, brushing his fingers against hers as he passed it over.
“Okay,” Bonnie said, businesslike, when the others were all gone and the door was closed behind them. “If you want to stay, you have to help.” She handed him the bag. “Pull out the purple and blue candles, and put them on the nightstand near her head. They’re good for deep healing. I don’t know if they’ll help, but they can’t hurt.”
Damon followed her directions. He kept his eyes fixed on the candles as he arranged and lit them.
Once the candles were in place, Bonnie took out a bronze bowl and set it on the padded bench at the foot of Elena’s bed. Pulling out an assortment of little bags, she started adding pinches of dried herbs to the bowl. “Anise for dreams,” she told Damon absently, and tipped in some limp dry flower petals. “Chrysanthemum petals for healing and protection. Mugwort, that’s for psychic powers and traveling. I just have to reach her.” She added a splash of oil from a small bottle, then pulled out a silver lighter and, with a flick of her finger, set fire to the small pile of herbs in the bowl. They smoldered slowly, a trickle of black smoke rising up toward the ceiling.
“Since when do you need anything to light a flame, redbird?” Damon asked, and Bonnie tilted her chin in acknowledgment of his point.
“I figure I should save my energy,” she said, and dug a thin silver dagger out of the bag. “Cut me a piece of Elena’s hair, please.”
Damon hesitated before moving back to the head of the bed. Elena’s mouth was relaxed, a tiny bit open, and her thick golden lashes brushed her cheekbones. Thin, bluish capillaries ran across her eyelids, and her brow was smooth, untroubled. She looked like a doll or an empty image. As if there were no Elena left in there at all.
Her hair slid silkily across his fingers as he lifted a lock, and he could smell the citrus scent of her shampoo. Cutting through the hair, he winced as he accidentally pulled it tight, but Elena didn’t react.
“Okay,” Bonnie said, taking the lock of hair from him and dropping it into the bowl. The sickening smell of burning hair filled the room. “Now, cut her arm.”
Damon’s gaze shot up to meet hers. Bonnie looked at him squarely, her mouth set. “We need her blood,” she said.
Of course. It always has to be blood. If anyone ought to know that, it was a vampire. Blood and hair, intimate and primal, would lead Bonnie to Elena if anything would. He lifted Elena’s arm, and Bonnie slid the bowl beneath it as Damon used the silver knife to make a thin, shallow scratch on the underside of Elena’s forearm. He half hoped for a twitch of pain as he cut, but again, Elena didn’t react. A few drops of blood dripped into the bowl before Bonnie pulled it away. There was a soft, sizzling noise.