Phantom (24 page)

“For passion,” said Elena, and snatched the candle out of Meredith’s hands and marched over, straight-backed and head high like a soldier’s, to the line of candles Alaric was relighting at the edge of the diagram. Meredith stared after her as Elena lit the candle and dripped a puddle of hot wax to stand it upon.

Stefan forced Damon backward, closer to the others and their line of candles. Damon’s boots scraped against the floor as he strained against Stefan.

“Okay,” Alaric said, looking at the candles apprehensively, then down at the book. “Each of us will declare the jealousies inside ourselves—the weaknesses that the phantom is able to play on—and cast them out. If we really mean it, if we manage, at least for the moment, to truly and sincerely cast out our jealousy, our candles will go out and the phantom will be weakened. The trick is to really be able to banish the jealousies from our hearts and stop feeding the phantom, and if we all can do it at once, the phantom ought to disappear, or maybe even die.”

“What if we can’t? What if we try to cast out jealousy, but it doesn’t go completely away?” Bonnie asked, her forehead crinkling with worry.

“Then it doesn’t work and the phantom stays,” said Alaric flatly. “Who wants to go first?”

Stefan slammed Damon down viciously onto the cement floor, a howl of anger coming from him. They were only a few feet from the line of candles, and Alaric stepped between them and the row of tiny flames, trying to shield the candles with his body. Celia shuddered as Stefan gave a low, furious growl and lowered his head to bite at Damon’s shoulder. Jealousy kept up a steady stream of venomous chatter, her eyes gleaming.

Mrs. Flowers clapped her hands to get everyone else’s attention, her face stern and encouraging. “Children, you will all have to be honest and brave,” she said. “You must all
truly
admit to your worst selves in front of your friends, which will be hard. And then you will need to be strong enough to cast these worst selves of yours away, which may be even harder. But you love one another, and I promise we will get through it.”

A thump and a muffled shout of rage and pain came from a few feet away, and Alaric glanced nervously over his shoulder at the battle behind him.

“Time is of the essence,” Mrs. Flowers said briskly. “Who will go first?”

Meredith was about to step forward, clutching her stave for comfort, when Bonnie spoke up.

“I will,” she said falteringly. “Um. I’ve been jealous of Meredith and of Elena. I always . . .” She swallowed, and then spoke more firmly. “I sometimes feel like I’m only a sidekick when I’m around them. They’re braver than me, and they’re better fighters, and smarter and prettier, and . . . and
taller
than I am. I’m jealous because I feel like people don’t respect me as much as they do them and don’t really take me seriously like they do Elena and Meredith. I’m jealous because sometimes I’m standing in their shadows, which are pretty big shadows . . . metaphorically speaking, I mean. And I’m also jealous because I’ve never even had a real boyfriend, and Meredith has Alaric, and Elena has Stefan, and because Elena
also
has Damon, who I think is pretty amazing, but who would never notice me when I’m standing next to Elena, because she’s all he can see.”

Bonnie paused again, and glanced at Elena, her eyes wide and shining. “But I love Elena and Meredith. I know I need to stop comparing myself to them. I’m not just a sidekick; I’m useful and talented, too. And”—she spoke the words Alaric had given them all—“I have fed the phantom of jealousy. But now I cast my jealousy away.”

In the semicircle of candles, the flame of Bonnie’s pink one flickered and went out. Bonnie gave a little gasp and smiled, half-shamefaced, half-proud, at Meredith and Elena. From inside the diagram, the phantom of jealousy snapped its head around and glared at Bonnie. “Bonnie—” Meredith started to say, wanting to tell her friend that of course she
wasn’t
a sidekick. Didn’t Bonnie know how amazing she was?

But then Elena stepped toward the candles and shook back her hair, head high. “I’ve been jealous of other people in Fell’s Church,” she declared. “I saw how easy it was for other couples to be together, and after all Stefan and I—and Damon, and the rest of my friends—have been through, and even after we saved Fell’s Church and made it normal again, everything just kept on being so
hard
and so
weird
and supernatural. I guess I’ve been realizing that things aren’t ever going to be just easy and normal for me, and that’s been tough to accept. When I watched other people and was jealous of them, I fed the phantom of jealousy. I cast that jealousy away.”

Elena smiled a little. It was a strange, rueful sort of smile, and Meredith, watching her, thought that, while Elena had cast out her jealousy, she was still haunted by regret for the easy, golden life she’d once had ahead of her and that had probably been taken away forever now.

The candle was still burning. Elena hesitated. Meredith followed her gaze past the line of candles to where Stefan and Damon struggled. As they watched, Damon heaved and rolled Stefan under him, leaving a long streak of blood across the floor of the garage. Stefan’s foot brushed the red candle at the end of the line, and Alaric leaped to steady it.

“And I’ve been jealous of Katherine,” Elena said. “Damon and Stefan loved her first, and she knew them before so much happened to change them, to . . . warp them out of who they ought to be. And even though I realize that they both know I’m not Katherine and that they love me for who I am, I haven’t been able to forget that they noticed me at first because I look like her. I have fed the phantom of jealousy because of Katherine, and I cast that jealousy away.”

The candle flame flickered, but did not go out. Jealousy smirked triumphantly, but then Elena went on. “I’ve also been jealous of Bonnie.” Bonnie’s head shot up, and she stared at Elena with an expression of disbelief. “I was used to being the only human Damon cared about, the only one who he would want to save.” She looked at Bonnie with tear-filled eyes. “I am so, so glad that Bonnie is alive. But I was jealous that Damon cared enough to die for her. When I was jealous of Bonnie, I fed the phantom of jealousy. But now I cast my jealousy away.”

The golden candle went out. Elena looked almost timidly at Bonnie, and Bonnie smiled at her, an open, loving smile, and held out her arms. Elena hugged her tightly.

Other than the grief she felt over Elena’s parents’ deaths, Meredith had never felt sorry for Elena. Why would she? Elena was beautiful, smart, a leader, passionately loved . . . but now Meredith couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. Sometimes it must be easier to live an everyday life than to be a heroine.

Meredith glanced at the phantom. It seemed to be simmering and was now wholly focused on the humans.

Alaric stepped around the candles toward the others, glancing back toward Damon and Stefan. Damon had pinned Stefan painfully against the wall behind Alaric. Stefan’s face was twisted in a grimace, and they could hear the scrape of his body against the hard surface. But at least Stefan and Damon weren’t endangering the candles for now.

Meredith turned her attention to her boyfriend. What could Alaric be jealous of? If anything, he’d been the focus of jealousy the last week or so.

He reached for Meredith and took one of her hands. “I’ve been jealous,” Alaric said, looking into her eyes. “Of you, Meredith. And of your friends.”

Meredith reflexively arched a brow at him. What did he mean?

“God.” He half laughed. “Here I am, a graduate student in parapsychology. I’ve been dying my whole life to prove to myself that there’s something more going on in the world than what everybody knows, that some of the things we think of as supernatural are real. And then I come to this small town in Virginia because there are rumors, rumors I don’t really believe, that there might be vampires here, and when I get here I find this amazing, beautiful, confident girl, and it turns out she comes from a family that hunts vampires. And her friends are vampires and witches and psychics and girls who come back from the dead to fight evil. They only just finished high school, but they’ve seen things I’ve never imagined. They’ve defeated monsters, and saved towns, and traveled to other dimensions. And, you know, I’m just this ordinary guy, and suddenly half the people I know—and the girl I love—are practically superheroes.” He shook his head, looking at Meredith admiringly. “I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy. But now I cast my jealousy away. I’ll just have to deal with being the boyfriend of a superhero.” Instantly, the dark green candle went out.

Sealed in the inner circle, the phantom hissed and paced back and forth in the small space like a trapped tigress. It looked angry, but not noticeably weaker.

Celia spoke next. Her face was tired but calm. “I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy,” she proclaimed. “I’ve been jealous of Meredith Suarez.” She didn’t say why. “But now I see that it’s pointless. I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy, but now I cast my jealousy away.”

She spoke as if she were dropping something into the trash. But still the pale purple candle went out.

Meredith opened her mouth to speak—she was clear on what she needed to say, and it wouldn’t be too hard, because she’d
won
, hadn’t she? If it had ever been a battle anywhere besides her own mind—but Matt cleared his throat and spoke first.

“I have . . .” He stumbled over his words. “I guess . . . no, I know I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy. I have always been crazy about Elena Gilbert, as long as I’ve known her. And I’ve been jealous of Stefan. All along. Even now, when Jealousy’s got him trapped in this bloody battle, because he has Elena. She loves him, not me. But, well, it doesn’t matter. . . . I’ve also known for a long time that Elena and I together don’t work, not for her, and that’s not Stefan’s fault. I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy, but now I cast my jealousy away.” He blushed and carefully did not look at Elena. The white candle went out, sending a long trail of smoke toward the ceiling.

Three candles left
, Meredith thought, looking at the last steady flames. Stefan’s dark green, Damon’s red, and her own brown. Was the phantom any weaker? From its invisible cage, the Phantom growled. If anything, it seemed to have made the space around itself bigger again, and it was once again pushing at it, seemingly feeling for a weak spot.

Meredith knew she had to keep the confessions going. “I’ve fed the phantom of jealousy,” she said in a strong, clear voice. “I was jealous of Dr. Celia Connor. I love Alaric, but I know I’m much younger than he is, not even in college yet, and I’ve never really been anywhere or seen anything of the world—the human world, at least—outside of where I grew up. Celia shares so much with him—experiences, education, interests—and I knew he liked her a lot. And she’s beautiful and really smart and poised. I was jealous because I was afraid she would take him from me. But if she had been able to take him, that would mean he wasn’t mine to keep. You can’t steal a person.” She smiled hesitantly at Celia, and after a moment, Celia smiled slightly in return. “I cast—”

“Watch out!” Alaric shouted. “Damon! Stefan! Stop!”

Meredith looked up. Damon and Stefan were staggering across the floor of the garage, past the line of candles, past Alaric, who grabbed at them. They broke out of his hold effortlessly without seeming to even notice his touch, shoving against each other desperately, struggling fiercely. Oblivious to anything but their battle, they were getting closer and closer to the phantom.

“No!” shouted Elena.

Damon shoved Stefan backward, and the heel of Stefan’s boot scraped across the chalk outlining the small circle that contained the phantom—scraped across the chalk line and smudged it, and the circle was no longer complete.

With a howl of triumph, the phantom was free.

W
e didn’t weaken it, not enough!” Meredith shouted to her friends over Jealousy’s shouts. The phantom, if anything, appeared stronger as it crossed the garage in one great leap and backhanded Meredith across the face. Meredith felt a searing pain, saw a bright flash of light, and felt herself slam against the wall. Dazed, she staggered back onto her feet.

The phantom was coming toward her again. More slowly this time, with a smile of anticipation.

The spell must be doing something then,
Meredith thought groggily,
or it wouldn’t care if I finished my part or not.

Meredith gripped her fighting stave. She wasn’t going down easily, not if she could prevent it. Alaric had called her a superhero. Superheroes kept fighting, even when the odds were stacked against them.

She sliced out viciously, expertly, with the end of the fighting stave. All those hours of practice paid off, because the phantom didn’t seem to expect the blow, and rather than the stave passing harmlessly through mist, Meredith caught the phantom in its solid form, just above the rose in its chest. The blade at the end opened a deep wound in the phantom’s chest, and when Meredith pulled it back for a second blow, viscous green fluid dripped from the end of her weapon.

As she swung again, Meredith’s luck ran out. The phantom reached out toward her, its hand moving so fast that Meredith didn’t see it until the phantom was holding the other end of the stave. Sharp as the stave was, poisonous as the coating of all those bits of silver and wood and iron were, the phantom held it lightly and easily, and
pulled.

Meredith went skidding across the garage floor toward the phantom, fast and helpless, and the phantom reached out lazily with its other hand to catch her, a sneer of contempt and anger on its glassy face.
Oh no,
Meredith’s internal voice babbled,
not like this. It can’t end like this.

Just before it touched Meredith, though, the phantom’s face changed, suddenly blossoming into an expression of confusion. It let go of the stave, and Meredith yanked herself back and caught her balance, wobbling furiously, gasping for breath.

The phantom stared past her, Meredith forgotten, at least for the moment. The phantom’s glassy teeth were bared, and there was an expression of terrible rage on its green-tinted face. As Meredith watched, the muscles in its icy-solid arms seemed to strain, then dissolve to swirls of arm-shaped mist, then solidify again, still in the same tense stillness.
She can’t move
, Meredith realized. She turned to look behind her.

Mrs. Flowers stood straight and tall, her blazing blue eyes fixed on the phantom. She held out her hands in front of her, her face set in strong, determined lines. Several strands of her gray hair had escaped from her bun, standing out in all directions as if caught by static electricity.

Mrs. Flowers’s lips moved soundlessly, and, as the phantom strained to move, Mrs. Flowers strained, too, looking as if she was struggling to support something cripplingly heavy. Their eyes, cool intent blue and glacier-clear green, were locked together in silent battle.

Mrs. Flowers’s eyes were steady, but her arms were shaking violently, and Elena didn’t know how much longer the older woman would be able to hang on and keep the phantom under control. Not long, she suspected. The battle with the kitsune had taken a lot out of Mrs. Flowers, and she hadn’t recovered fully yet. She wasn’t ready for a new fight.

Elena’s heart was thumping like crazy, and she couldn’t stand to look at the bloody figures of Damon and Stefan on the other side of the garage, because the one thing she knew she couldn’t do right now was panic. She needed to be able to
think
.

“Meredith,” Elena said crisply, with such a tone of authority that her friends all turned away from watching the struggle between Mrs. Flowers and the phantom to look at her. “Finish your part of the ceremony.”

Meredith looked at Elena blankly for a moment and then snapped into gear. That was one of the many wonderful things about Meredith: She could always be relied upon, no matter what, to pull herself together and get on with the job.

“I have fed the phantom of jealousy,” Meredith said, looking down at the floor where her brown candle still burned, “but now I cast my jealousy away.”

Meredith’s words rang with truth, and the candle went out.

The phantom flinched and grimaced, flexing its fingers angrily. The deep red of the rose in its chest dulled to a dark pink for a moment before flushing back to crimson. But . . . it didn’t seem like it was defeated; it seemed merely irritated. Its eyes never left Mrs. Flowers’s, and its ice-sculpted muscles still were straining forward.

Almost all the candles were out. Only two flames were flickering, from the blue and red candles, only two victims feeding the phantom with their jealousy.

So, with almost all its victims torn away from it, shouldn’t the phantom be
weaker
? Shouldn’t it be sick and struggling?

Elena turned to Alaric. “Alaric,” she whispered. “What did the book say? Shouldn’t the spell be starting to kill the phantom by now?”

Alaric was watching the silent showdown between Mrs. Flowers and the phantom again, his own fists clenched and his body straining as if he could somehow lend Mrs. Flowers his strength, and it took a little time—
time we don’t have
, thought Elena furiously—for him to drag his attention to Elena. When he did and she repeated her question, he turned a more analytical gaze on the phantom, and a new worry dawned in his eyes.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he said, “but the book did suggest . . . the book said something like, ‘Every word truly spoken by its victims, each dark emotion willingly rejected, will draw back to them the life the phantom has stolen from their thoughts and deeds. The creature will crumble with every honest word spoken against it.’ It could be just rhetoric, or maybe the person who wrote down the spell had heard about the ritual without seeing it performed, but it sounds . . .” He hesitated.

“It sounds like the spell ought to be killing the phantom by now,” said Elena flatly. “It sounds like this isn’t working right.”

“I don’t know what’s going wrong,” said Alaric unhappily.

The world shifted and everything snapped into focus.

“I do,” said Elena. “It must be because this is an Original, not an ordinary phantom. We didn’t create it with our emotions, so we can’t destroy it just by taking them away. I think we’re going to need to try something else.”

Stefan and Damon were still locked in combat. They were both bloody and battered. His hurt arm dangling at an unnatural angle, Stefan moved as though something inside him had been damaged, but they were both still attacking each other viciously, Stefan no less than Damon.

Elena reasoned that they must be fighting on their own initiative now. The phantom, absorbed in its battle with Mrs. Flowers, was no longer muttering poisonous encouragement to them. If Damon and Stefan weren’t being seduced by Jealousy’s voice, maybe they could be persuaded to listen to someone else. Elena, trying not to catch the phantom’s attention, eased her way toward the fighters.

Damon was bleeding from his neck and a long cut on his head, and the skin around both his eyes was bruising up. He was limping, but he was clearly gaining the upper hand. Stefan, circling warily now just out of arm’s reach, was not only curled forward to protect whatever was injured inside him but had a long strip of torn skin hanging from his cheek.

Damon was grinning savagely at him, moving closer with every shift of his feet. There was an alertness to Damon’s eyes that spoke only of the predator within, of his joy in the hunt and in the kill. Damon must have forgotten in the pleasure of the fight who he was battling, Elena told herself. He would never forgive himself, once he
was
himself again, if he really seriously hurt Stefan, or even killed him.
Although
, something inside her whispered,
part of him has always wanted this.

She shoved the thought aside.
Part
of Damon might want to hurt Stefan, but the real, whole Damon did not. If there was anything that fighting the phantom had shown her, it was that the dark emotions everyone hid in their depths weren’t all of who they really were. They weren’t their true selves.

“Damon,” she shouted. “Damon, think! The phantom is influencing you! It’s making you fight.” She heard her voice rise pleadingly. “Don’t let it beat you. Don’t let it destroy you.”

Damon didn’t seem to hear her, though. He still wore that feral smile, and prowled a little closer to Stefan, edging him farther and farther toward the corner of the garage. Pretty soon Stefan would be trapped, boxed in and unable to run.

And, catching a glimpse of the defiant expression on Stefan’s poor, battered face, Elena realized with a sinking heart that Stefan wouldn’t run, even if Damon gave him the chance. The part of Stefan that hated Damon was in control of him now.

Stefan bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. Damon pulled back his fist to deliver a powerful blow, his canines extending in anticipation of drinking his brother’s lifeblood.

More quickly than she had ever moved before, at least as a human, Elena flung herself between them as Damon’s fist swung forward. Eyes squeezed closed, she threw her arms wide to protect Stefan and awaited the impact.

Damon was moving so fast by the time she jumped in front of him that momentum was carrying his whole body forward. With his inhuman strength, it was a punch that would break her bones and crush her face.

But Damon stopped in time, as only a vampire could. She could feel the rush of displaced air from the blow, even the brush of his knuckles against her face, but there was no pain.

Gingerly Elena opened her eyes. Damon stood poised, coiled to strike, one arm still raised. He was breathing hard, and his eyes glittered strangely. Elena returned his gaze.

Was there a tiny bit of relief shining in Damon’s eyes? Elena thought so. The question was, was it relief that he had stopped himself before he killed her, or that she had stopped him from killing Stefan? Surely Damon could have thrown her out of the way by now and attacked Stefan again, if that was what he really wanted.

Elena took a chance and reached out toward Damon’s fist, folding those battered knuckles within her own smaller hand. He didn’t resist as she lowered his fist to his side, passively allowing himself to be moved.

“Damon,” she said softly. “Damon, you can stop now.” His eyes narrowed and she knew he could hear her, but his mouth was tight and fierce, and he didn’t answer.

Without letting go of Damon’s hand, Elena turned toward Stefan. He was close behind her, his eyes fixed on Damon. He was panting rapidly, and he wiped the back of his hand absently against his mouth, smearing blood across his face. Elena reached out and took his hand, sticky as it was with blood.

Damon’s hand tensed in hers, and she glanced at him to see he was staring at her other hand, the one that was holding Stefan’s. Stefan saw where Damon was looking, too, and the corners of his swollen mouth drew up in a bitter little smile.

Behind them, the phantom snarled as it fought Mrs. Flowers’s power. It sounded louder, fiercer.

“Listen,” she said urgently, looking from one brother to the other. “The phantom’s not focusing on you now, so you can think for yourselves. But Mrs. Flowers won’t be able to hold her for long. So you need to do it; you need to start thinking
now
, instead of just acting. I need to tell you . . . um.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I never told you this, but when Klaus was keeping me prisoner, after Katherine’s death, he used to show me . . . images. Memories, I guess, Katherine’s memories. How you both were with her, back when you were human. When you were young and alive and loved her. How
much
you loved her. I hated it, seeing how real that love was. And I knew that you noticed me at first only because of the love you had for her then. It’s always bothered me a little bit, even though I know your love for me now is deeper.”

Both brothers were looking at Elena now, and Stefan’s lips parted to speak. Elena shook her head briskly and went on. “No, let me finish. It’s bothered me
a little bit
. It hasn’t destroyed me, and it hasn’t changed what I feel . . . for either of you. Because I also know that you might have noticed me for Katherine’s sake, but that once you got past it, you both saw
me
, Elena. You don’t see Katherine in me anymore.”

She had to venture into dangerous territory now, so she proceeded cautiously, trying to lay out her argument with logic and sensitivity. “So, I know that, right? But when the phantom spoke to me, it dredged up that old jealousy and made it burn inside me again. And the other things the phantom said to me are partly true, too. Yes, I’m jealous sometimes of girls with”—she smiled despite herself—“normal love lives. But in my most centered moments, I know I wouldn’t want to be them. What I’ve got is amazing, even if it’s hard.” Elena swallowed. “And so I know that what the phantom said to you is partly true. You’re jealous of each other. You’re angry about things from the past, and you’re upset that I love both of you. But I also know that’s not
all
there is. It’s not the most important thing, either. Not anymore. Things have changed since the days when jealousy and anger were the only emotions between you. You’ve worked together, and you’ve protected each other. You’ve become brothers again.”

She gazed into Damon’s eyes, searching for a response. “Damon, Stefan was
devastated
when he thought you were dead. You’re his brother, and he loves you, and he didn’t know what to do with you gone. You’re a big part of his life—past and present. You’re the only one who’s been there with him throughout his history.”

She swung to look at Stefan. “Stefan, Damon didn’t hide from you the fact that he was alive because he wanted to make you suffer, or to be free of you, or whatever the phantom was convincing you of. He wanted to be able to come back in a way and at a time that he could show you things were going to be different. That he was capable of
changing
. And you were the person he wanted to change for. Not me. You. You’re his brother and he loves you, and he wanted things to be better between you.”