Paradise Lost (The Vampire Diaries 20)

Getting the notes would have meant asking a favor of a couple of juniors, and that must have been difficult for Matt, who was only a freshman. “Really,” Damon said for a third time.

Glances were exchanged between the three girls. Knowing glances, and for a moment Damon tensed. But then Bonnie said, her innocent brown eyes on the ceiling, “I think somebody doesn’t want to do his homework,” and all the humans laughed.

“What are you taking, anyway?” Meredith asked, just as Damon began to wonder. He had no idea, just as he had no idea why he’d allowed Stefan to sign him up as if he were going to attend classes. He must have been drunk, or mad, or thinking about girls. In other words, pretty much of in his normal state, so: classes, why?

“It’s Latin and History of the Italian Renaissance,” Matt supplied helpfully.

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Damon tried on a knowing look himself. He’d been thrown out of three Universities in Italy before he became a vampire, and had had Latin beaten into him by a tutor since he was a child. “Do, das, dat, damus, datis, dant, damon. I give, you give, he gives, we give, y’all give, they give, run away.”

Elena smiled. “So ‘Damon’ means ‘run away’ in Latin?” She reached to smooth his hair, which ought to have annoyed him, but the large IV needle still in her left arm gave a twinge and her smile froze. Damon hastily took her hand and pushed the pain out of her mind. She blinked at him with fuzzy love.

“Damon means ‘run away’ in every language,” he said softly. “Even in the original Greek, daµa?, where it also means ‘to tame.’ But princeps tenebrarum has no need to worry about such things.”

“What’s that?” Bonnie asked instantly.

“It’s—just a nickname.” Hastily Damon Influenced four minds to forget the second word. I have to be more careful than that, he scolded himself. I can’t just keep wiping their memories. And Elena may be my princess, but she’s not my princess of darkness yet.

“In any case, thank you . . . Matt,” he said, drawing on all his memories of human manners. His recollections indicated that it might be a good time for a manly handshake about now, but Matt wasn’t exactly a man yet, so instead Damon clapped him heartily on the back. He’d seen some college-age kid do that once to another.

Matt nearly turned a somersault. “Um—no problem,” he choked when Meredith had started him breathing again. “Glad to—help out.”

And for the god’s sake, remember that they breathe for their lives, Damon added to his internal memo. Not just to speak or to concentrate Power, but because they die otherwise.

In fact, it wouldn’t do him any harm to start breathing right now, when he wasn’t speaking. Just for practice. He took in a huge lungful of air, felt his Power sharpen, and let out the entire lungful in one go. It sounded like a heavy sigh.

“You’re sad,” Bonnie said. “Well, of course you are. Elena’s sick.”

“Elena is not sick!” cried Elena. “Elena’s perfectly fine except that she’s attached to a horrible metal needle and several stupid mechanical contrivances. “Bonnie: look at me! I mean, not just me, but my—my—”

Damon watched as Elena struggled to find the word aura. Clearly, she knew what she meant, but the word itself was missing from her vocabulary and therefore the concept was missing, too. Clever, clever little brother, he thought.

Elena collapsed back against the bed. “I’m healthy,” she said disconsolately, reaching for Damon’s hand for comfort. “Tell them, darling.”

“Elena is as healthy as fruit bat,” Damon declared instantly, smiling.

Elena’s classmates all looked doubtful.

“Actually,” Meredith said slowly, “I think it’s ‘as healthy as a hog.’ Or a horse. But neither of them sound very flattering. I suppose in Australia you could say ‘healthy as a wombat.’”

“One of my aunts married an Ozzie,” Matt said. “I know it’s ‘chuck a sickie’ if you pretend to be sick when you’re really fine.”

“Well, then I’m sicking a chuckie,” Elena said. “Except that it’s not me; it’s the doctors doing it. I shouldn’t have to stay.”

Meredith was still clearly traveling on her own track. “Or you could say ‘healthy as a vampire bat . . . in a blood bank.’”

“Meredith!” Bonnie cried. “Ixnay on the udblay.”

“Why?” Elena asked. “I don’t mind blood. I was thinking of kissing some donors. I’m alive because of donors.” She glanced at Damon, not for permission, but for backup.

“Ah,” he said, feeling trapped. “Hm. I was just going to make them rich beyond their wildest dreams of avarice. Does it have to come with a kiss?”

There was a long pause.

“Damon,” Bonnie said wistfully at last, “I brought Elena her toothbrush; will you buy me a Ferrari?”

“Bonnie!” Meredith and Matt got it out in chorus.

“It’s all right,” Elena said peaceably. “As long as she doesn’t ask to be my sister-wife.”