“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.
Damon could smell the richness of Elena’s blood, and his canines ached and sharpened in response, but he barely noticed. Taking a tissue from the box by the bed, he pressed it against the spreading red line on Elena’s arm for a few moments until the bleeding had stopped.
“Now what?” he began to say, but his voice died as he turned back to Bonnie. A sensation of Power rose and filled the room, making Damon’s skin tingle. Bonnie had already slipped into a trance, her eyes wide and blank. Her pupils dilated as she stared down into the flames in the brass bowl.
Her hands rested lightly on the end of Elena’s bed. Her breathing slowed and deepened. As Damon watched, Bonnie’s eyes flickered, tracking something that only she could see.
Crossing the room, Damon let himself lounge against the windowsill, gazing out. Bonnie could be in a trance for a very long time. Outside the window, it was still pitch-black, although it must be the early hours of the morning by now. He unloosed a questioning tendril of his own Power, searching into the darkness.
There wasn’t much out there. The sharp, predatory mind of an owl swooping silently through the sky. A wily fox slipped through the bushes near the apartment building. Farther away, he could sense the quiet consciousness of the humans asleep through the town.
Behind him, Bonnie’s mind was questing, gently but determined. He could feel the others, too, each one’s mind churning restlessly as they waited outside the bedroom.
But, even though she was right behind him, lying in that white-draped bed, he could feel nothing of Elena. Damon felt as if something inside him had been ripped apart. His Elena, just one last breath away from leaving him forever.
And then he thought he saw one slender golden eyebrow twitch, just a millimeter.
“Bonnie,” he said, his throat constricting. But the little witch, deep in her trance, didn’t hear him. He came closer to the bed again, close enough that he could feel the heat of the candles burning all around Elena.
Nothing. She could have been a statue. He sent his Power out desperately, but there was no glimmer of consciousness from her.
He must
have imagined it.
Damon crouched down and brought his face closer to Elena’s, watching her carefully. Time passed and he stayed still, his gaze intent on Elena’s face. He was a predator; he could keep his mind clear and his eyes sharp for hours. But there was nothing.
He couldn’t leave here, not while there was still that cruel drop of hope. But if Elena died, then it would be time to take off the ring that had let him walk in sunlight all these years. He could step into the sun and let go at last.