No answer. Damon dropped into the lounge chair in the opposite corner of the room. But it was difficult to stay seated. He was full of adrenaline and his pride was wounded. Even worse, this setup was no good. He needed to be within arm’s reach of Elena—in fact, he needed to be touching her. There was no other way to guarantee her safety. As it was, he might as well have gone to the woods like Stefan.
A minute passed. Five more slow minutes.
“Elena?”
“Go ’way.”
“I need your attention for a moment.”
“Attend this.” A pale hand appeared above the level of the bed that separated them. It was making a gesture that
, in Italy, was quite rude.
Damon succeeded in turning a chortle into a coughing spasm. He concluded that the wooden floor was uncomfortable.
Another five minutes passed, even more slowly than the last.
“Elena? Princess?”
No answer. But now that he wasn’t panicking Damon could see Elena’s aura in minute detail on the opposite side of the bed. She was wide awake.
“I know you’re not asleep.”
“How,” Elena asked, sighing heavily, “could I possibly sleep when you keep enthralling me with such fascinating tidbits of conversation?”
“Fascinating or not, you should listen to me. You must be thinking about what’s happening with Bonnie. I’m thinking about it, too. And I’m thinking about the news story on television.”
Elena sighed again, but she seemed to thaw slightly. “Bonnie—I’m starting to believe that she needs a doctor. Not like Dr. Alpert. A psychiatrist.”
“Maybe,” Damon temporized, having no idea what a psychiatrist would make of Bonnie’s trances. “But, you know, I have an idea about that girl at Beckley Memorial in Heron. Why don’t we go and see if we can visit her tomorrow? She may have some answers that bear on what happened to you.”
For a moment he thought that Elena was going to say something about missing more classes. Instead she finally murmured, “It’s a good idea—if they’ll let us speak to her. If she’s even conscious. After all, whatever is going on with Bonnie is my fault in the first place.”
“You what?”
“It’s true. The—the psychogenic trances started when she first came to visit me in the hospital. Something she saw there made her . . . freak out, and she’s been freaking out ever since.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Damon snapped.
“Thank you,” Elena blazed back. She sat up, which allowed Damon to see the top of her head. “Now you give me your theory about why she’s suddenly doing this and we can see which one is more ridiculous!”
Damon shut his mouth with a click of teeth. This was beyond the call of duty. To sit here knowing that Bonnie was a witch who was being used by a malign entity—and not to be able to say a word about it—was not a nurturing experience.
Little brother, he thought for the hundredth time, you’ve put me in an impossible position. And the wave of anger that he felt for Stefan’s lunacy merged with the waves of anger he was feeling for Elena’s stubbornness.
“We’ll go tomorrow,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’m betting she will be awake. And meanwhile, we’ll go to sleep—but not like this.”
Finally, Elena was goaded into standing up. Damon immediately stood as well. At least they could face each other now.
“It’s my room—or have you forgotten?” Elena said. “You have a perfectly good one of your own.”
If only you knew, Damon thought.
“I haven’t forgotten. And like I said, I don’t mean any disrespect to your aunt. But after what Bonnie just said, after what we saw on the news—I’m worried about you. I need to be close to you if I’m going to—” He suddenly realized where this sentence was going.
“To take care of me,” Elena finished. “Thank you very much, but I plan on taking care of myself.”
Damon ground his teeth. Against a copycat vampire? he thought. Against someone who wants your blood and death, because it’s fun?