The Vampire Diaries: The Return: Shadow Souls (23 page)

Bonnie happily began to strip.

Lady Ulma turned out to have been right. Bonnie loved the way she looked that evening. Right now she was being given the finishing touches, such as a delicate spray of citrus and rosewater; a fragrance made just for her. She stood before a giant silvered-glass mirror, just minutes before they were due to start off for the gala given by Fazina, the Silver Nightingale herself.

Bonnie turned a little, looking at the strapless, full-skirted dress in awe. Its bodice was made—or seemed to be made—entirely of the eyes of peacock feathers, arranged in a spray that was gathered together at her waist, showing off how tiny it was. There was another spray of larger feathers that pointed downward from the waist, front and back. The back actually had a small train of peacock feathers against emerald silk. In front, below the larger, downward pointing spray, a design worked in silver and gold, of stylized undulating plumes, all upside down, made its way to the bottom of the gown, which was edged with thin gold brocade.

As if this were not enough, Lady Ulma had had a fan made with real peacock eyes set in an emerald jade handle, with a tassel of softly clinking jade, citrine, and emerald charms at the bottom.

Around Bonnie’s throat was a matching necklace of jade, inlaid with emerald, sapphire, and lapis lazuli. And around each of her wrists were several emerald jade bracelets that clicked together whenever she moved, the symbol of her slavery.

But Bonnie’s eyes could hardly linger on them, and she couldn’t summon up a proper hatred of the bracelets. She was thinking of how a special hairdresser had come to “slick back” Bonnie’s strawberry-colored curls until, darkened into true red, they were plastered flat against her skull and held in place with jade and emerald clips. Her heart-shaped face had never looked so mature, so sophisticated. To emerald eyelids and kohl-darkened eyes, Lady Ulma had added a vivid red lipstick and had for once broken her rule and cleverly, wielding the brush herself, had added touches here and there of blusher so that Bonnie’s translucent skin looked as if she were constantly coloring at some compliment. Delicately carved jade earrings with golden bells inside completed the ensemble, and Bonnie felt as if she were some Princess of the Ancient Orient.

“It’s really some kind of miracle. Usually, I look like a pixie trying to dress up as a cheerleader or a flower girl,” she confided, kissing Lady Ulma again and again, delighted to find that the lipstick stayed on her lips instead of transferring to her benefactress’s cheeks. “But tonight I look like a young
woman
.”

She would have kept on babbling, helpless to stop herself even though Lady Ulma already was trying to discreetly dab tears away from her eyes, except that at that moment Elena came in and she gasped.

Elena’s dress had already been finished by the afternoon and so all Bonnie had seen of it was the sketch. But somehow that had failed to convey just what this dress would do for Elena.

Bonnie had secretly wondered if Lady Ulma were leaving too much to Elena’s own natural beauty, and was hoping that Elena would be as excited about her own dress as everyone seemed to be about Bonnie’s and Meredith’s.

Now Bonnie understood.

“It is a called a goddess dress,” Lady Ulma explained to the stunned silence in the room, as Elena walked in, and Bonnie dizzily thought that if goddesses
had
ever lived up on Mount Olympus, they would certainly have wanted to dress this way.

The trick of the dress lay in its very simplicity. It was made of milk-white silk, with a delicately pleated waist (Lady Ulma called the irregular tight pleating “ruching”) which held two simple bodice panels that formed a V-neckline, showing off Elena’s peach-blossom skin between them and behind them. These panels in turn were held at the shoulders by two carved clasps—gold inlaid with mother-of-pearl and diamonds. From the waist, the skirt fell straight in graceful, silken folds all the way to Elena’s delicate sandals—again designed in gold, mother-of-pearl and diamonds. In the back, the two panels that clasped at the shoulder became straps and crossed over to once again meet at the pleated waist.

Such a simple dress, but so magnificent on the right girl.

At Elena’s throat, an exquisitely designed golden and mother-of-pearl necklace in the stylized shape of a butterfly was inset with so many diamonds that it seemed to blaze with multicolored fire each time she moved and they caught the light. She wore this over the lapis and diamond pendant Stefan had given her, since she had flatly refused to take the pendant off. It didn’t matter. The butterfly covered the pendant completely.

On each wrist Elena wore a wide bracelet of gold and mother-of-pearl inset with diamonds, creations that they had found in the secret jewel room, obviously made to go with the necklace.

And that was all. Elena’s hair had been brushed and brushed and
brushed
until it formed a silky golden tumble of waves that hung below her shoulders in back, and she was wearing a touch of rose-colored lipstick. But her face, with its thick black eyelashes and lighter arched brows—and just now its look of excitement that parted her rose-colored lips and brought brilliant color to her cheeks—had been left entirely alone. Earrings that were just cascades of diamonds peeped through her gold tresses.

She’s going to drive them crazy tonight, Bonnie thought, eyeing the daring dress with envy, but not with jealousy, instead rather reveling in the thought of the sensation Elena would make. She’s wearing the simplest gown of any of us, but she still completely puts Meredith and me in the shade.

Yet Bonnie had never seen Meredith look better—or more exotic. She’d also never known what a stunning figure Meredith had, despite her friend’s wide assortment of designer clothes.

Meredith shrugged when Bonnie told her this. She had a fan, too, black lacquer, that folded. Now she opened it and folded it shut again, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“We’re in the hands of a genius,” she said simply. “But we can’t forget what we’re really here for.”

“W
e have to keep our minds on saving Stefan,” Elena was saying in the room Damon had taken over for his own, the old library in Lady Ulma’s mansion.

“Where else would my mind be?” Damon said, never taking his eyes off her neck with its ornaments of mother-of-pearl and diamonds. Somehow the milk-white dress served to emphasize the slim soft column of Elena’s throat, and Elena knew it.

She sighed.

“If we thought you really meant it, then we could all just relax.”

“You mean be as relaxed as you are?”

Elena gave herself an inner shake. Damon might seem to be completely absorbed with one thing and one thing only, but his sense of self-preservation made sure that he was constantly on guard, and seeing not just what he wanted to see but everything that was around him.

And it was true that Elena was almost unbearably excited. Let the others think it was about her marvelous dress—and it
was
a marvelous dress, and Elena was profoundly grateful to Lady Ulma and her helpers for getting it done in time. What Elena was really excited about, though, was the chance—no, the certainty, she told herself firmly—that tonight she was going to find half of the key that would allow them to free Stefan. The thought of his face, of seeing him in the flesh was…

Was terrifying. Thinking about what Bonnie had said when she was asleep, Elena reached out for comfort and understanding, and somehow found that instead of holding Damon’s hand, she was in Damon’s arms.

The real question is: what will Stefan say about that night at the motel with Damon?

What would Stefan say? What was there to say?

“I’m frightened,” she heard, and a minute too late, recognized her own voice.

“Well, don’t think about it,” Damon said. “It’ll only make things worse.”

But I’ve lied, Elena thought. You don’t even remember it, or you’d be lying, too.

“Whatever happened, I promise I’ll still be around for you,” Damon said softly. “You’ve got my word on
that
, anyway.”

Elena could feel his breath against her hair. “And on keeping your mind on the key?”

Yes, yes, but I haven’t fed properly today.
Elena started, then clasped Damon closer. For just an instant she’d felt, not merely a ravaging hunger, but a sharp pain that puzzled her. But now, before she could quite locate it in space, it was gone, and her connection to Damon had been abruptly cut off.

Damon
.

“What?”

Don’t shut me out
.

“I’m not. I’ve just said all there is to say, that’s all. You know I’ll be looking for the key.”

Thank you.
Elena tried again.
But you can’t just starve—

Who said I was starving?
Now Damon’s telepathic connection was back, but something was missing. He was deliberately
holding
something back, and concentrating on assaulting her senses with something else—hunger. Elena could feel it rampaging in him, as if he were a tiger or wolf that had gone for days—for weeks—without making a kill.

The room did a slow spin around her.

“It’s…all right,” she whispered, amazed that Damon was able to stand and hold her at all, with his insides tearing at him that way. “Whatever…you need…take…”

And then she felt the most gentle probing at her throat of razor-sharp teeth.

She gave herself up to it, surrendering to the sensations.

In preparation for the Silver Nightingale’s gala, where they would be searching for the first half of the double fox key to release Stefan, Meredith had been reading some of the hard copy she’d stuffed into her bag, from the huge amount of information she had downloaded from the Internet. She had done her best to describe everything that she’d learned to Elena and the others. But how could she be sure that she hadn’t missed some vital clue, some vastly important thread of information that would make all the difference tonight between success and failure? Between finding a way to save Stefan and coming home defeated, while he languished in prison.

No, she thought, standing by a silvered mirror, almost afraid to look at the exotic beauty she had become. No, we can’t even think of the word
failure
. For the sake of Stefan’s life, we
have
to succeed. And we have to do it without getting caught.

E
lena felt confident and just a little light-headed as they set out for the Silver Nightingale’s gala. However, when the four of them arrived on litters—Damon with Elena, Meredith with Bonnie (Lady Ulma being forbidden by her doctor to go to any festivities while she was pregnant)—at the Honorable Lady Fazina’s palatial home, she was struck with something like terror.

The house was truly a palace, in the best of story-telling tradition, she thought. Minarets and towers soared above them, probably painted in blue and lavish gilt, but turned lavender by the sunlight, and looking almost lighter than air. To complement the sunlight, torches had been lit on either side of the path of the litters up the hill and some chemical had been added—or some magic used—to make their lights shine in varying colors so that they changed from golden, to red, to purple, to blue, to green, to silver, and these colors shone true. They took Elena’s breath away, as the only things that were not tinged with red in the whole world that she could see. Damon had brought a bottle of Black Magic with him and was almost too high-spirited—no pun intended, Elena thought.

As their litter stopped at the top of the hill, Damon and Elena were helped out and down a hallway that cut out much of the sunlight. Above them hung delicate, lighted paper lanterns—some larger than the litter they’d been in a moment ago—brightly lighted and fancifully shaped which gave a festive, playful air to a palace otherwise so magnificent that it was a little intimidating.

They passed by lighted fountains, some of which had surprises—like the line of magical frogs that constantly leaped from lily pad to lily pad:
plop, plop, plop
, like the sound of rain on a rooftop, or a huge gilded serpent that coiled among trees and over the heads of visitors, winding from there to the ground and then back up to the trees again.

Then again, it was the ground that would turn transparent with all manner of magical schools of fish, sharks, eels, and dolphins cavorting, while in the dim blue depths far below loomed the figure of a gigantic whale. Elena and Bonnie hurried quickly over this portion of the path.

It was clear that the owner of this estate could afford any kind of extravaganza her heart desired, and that above all things what she enjoyed the chiefest was music, for in each area, splendidly—sometimes bizarrely—dressed orchestra were playing, or there might be only one famous soloist, singing from a high gilded cage perhaps twenty-five feet above the ground.

Music…music and lights everywhere…

Elena herself, although thrilled by the sights, sounds, and glorious scents coming from huge banks of flowers as well as from the guests, both male and female, felt a slight fear like a small rock in her stomach. She had thought her dress and diamonds so elaborate when she had left Lady Ulma’s estate. But now that she was here at Lady Fazina’s…well, there were too many
rooms
, too many
people
, as fancifully and finely clad as herself and her sister “personal assistants.” She was afraid that—well, that that woman over there, dripping jewels from her delicate three-tier diamond and emerald tiara to her delicate diamond-circled toes, made her own unadorned hair look dowdy or laughable, at such a grand affair.

Do you know how old she is?
Elena almost jumped to hear Damon’s voice in her head.

Who?
Elena replied, trying at least to keep her envy—her worry—out of her telepathic voice.
And am I projecting that loudly?
she added in alarm.

Not all that loudly, but it never hurts to tune it down. And you know perfectly well “who”: that giraffe you were eyeing
, Damon replied.
For your information, she’s about two hundred years older than I am, and she’s trying to look around thirty, which is ten years younger than when she became a vampire.

Elena blinked.
What are you trying to say?

Send some Power to your ears,
Damon suggested.
And stop worrying!

Elena obediently increased slightly the Power to what she still thought of as her burst ear nodes, and conversations suddenly became audible all around her.

…
oh, the goddess in white. She’s just a child, but what a figure…

…
yes, the one with the golden hair. Magnificent, isn’t she?…Oh, by Hades, look at that girl……Did you see the prince and princess over there? I wonder if they’d swap…or—or—do a quartet, dear?

This was more like what Elena was used to hearing at parties. It gave her more confidence. It also, as she allowed her eyes to sweep more boldly across the opulently costumed crowed, caused her to feel a sudden surge of love and respect for Lady Ulma, who had designed and overseen the construction of three glorious dresses in only a week.

She’s a genius,
Elena informed Damon solemnly, knowing that through their mindlink he would see who she meant.
Look, Meredith already has a crowd around her. And…and…

And she’s not acting much like Meredith at all,
Damon finished, sounding slightly uneasy.

Meredith didn’t seem uneasy in the least. She had her face turned deliberately to show off a classical profile to her admirers, but it wasn’t the profile of level-headed, serene Meredith Sulez at all. It was a sultry, exotic girl, who looked as if she might very well be able to sing the Habanera from
Carmen
. She had her fan open and was gracefully, languorously fanning herself. The soft but warm indoor lighting made her bare shoulders and arms gleam like pearl above the black velvet dress, which seemed even more mysterious and striking than it had back at home. In fact, it seemed to have stricken one devotee to the heart already; he was kneeling before her with a red rose in his hand, so hastily picked from one of the arrangements that a thorn had pricked him and blood welled from his thumb. Meredith didn’t seem to have noticed. Both Elena and Damon felt for the young man, who was blond and extremely handsome. Elena felt sorry…and Damon felt hungry.

She certainly seems to have come out of her shell,
ventured Damon.

Oh,
Meredith
doesn’t ever really come out,
Elena replied.
It’s all playacting. But tonight I think it’s the dresses that are doing it. Meredith is dressed like a siren, and so she’s acting all sultry. Bonnie’s dressed like a peacock and…look.

She nodded down the long hallway that led to a huge room in front of them. Bonnie, dressed in what looked like real peacock feathers, had a crowd of her own followers—and that was just what they were doing: following. Bonnie’s every movement was light and birdlike and her jade bracelets clinked together on her small rounded arms, her earrings chimed with each toss of her head, and her feet seemed to twinkle in golden sandals in front of her peacock train.

“You know, it’s strange,” Elena murmured, as they reached the large room and at last sound was muted so she could hear Damon’s physical voice. “I didn’t realize it, but Lady Ulma designed our dresses at different levels of the animal world.”

“Hm?” Damon was looking at her throat again. But fortunately at that moment a handsome man dressed in formal Earth clothes—tuxedo, cummerbund, and so on—came by with Black Magic in large silver goblets. Damon drained his in one gulp and took another from the gracefully bowing waiter. Then he and Elena took seats—on the outside of the back row, even if this was a rudeness to their hostess. They needed to be free to maneuver.

“Well, Meredith is a mermaid, which is the highest order, and she’s acting like a siren. Bonnie is a bird, so that’s the next highest order, and she
is
acting like a bird: watching all the boys display themselves while she keeps laughing. And I’m a butterfly—so I suppose I’ll be a social butterfly tonight. With you beside me, I hope.”

“How…cute,” Damon said heavily. “But what exactly makes you think you’re supposed to be a butterfly?”

“Well, the designs, silly,” Elena said, and she lifted her mother-of-pearl and gold and diamond fan and gave him a tiny butterfly rap on the forehead with it. Then she opened it to show him a masterly sketch of the same design as her necklace on its front, decorated with tiny dots of diamond, gold, and mother-of-pearl where they would not be harmed by the folds.

“You see? A butterfly,” she said, not displeased with the image.

Damon traced the outline with one long, tapering finger that reminded her so much of Stefan’s that it hurt her throat, and stopped at six stylized lines above the head. “Since when do butterflies have hair?” His finger moved to two horizontal lines between the wings. “Or arms?”

“Those are legs,” Elena told him, amused. “What kind of thing with arms and legs and a head has six hairs and wings?”

“A tipsy vampire,” suggested a voice above them and Elena looked up, surprised to see Sage. “May I sit with you?” he asked. “I couldn’t manage a shirt, but my fairy godmother did conjure up a vest.”

Elena, laughing, scooted over a seat so that he could take the aisle seat by Damon. He was much cleaner than when she had last seen him working around the house, although his hair was still in long wild unruly curls. She noted however, that his fairy godmother had scented him with cedar and sandalwood, and provided him with Dolce & Gabbana jeans and vest. He looked…
magnifique
. There was no sign of his animals.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Elena said to him.

“You can say that? Garbed as you are in celestial white and gold? You mentioned the gala; I took your wish as a command.”

Elena giggled. Of course, everyone was treating her differently tonight. It was the dress. Sage, murmuring something about his latent heterosexuality, swore that the image on her necklace and fan was a phoenix. The very polite demon on her right, who had deep mauve skin and small, curling white horns, deferentially submitted that it looked to him like the goddess Ishtar, who had apparently sent him to the Dark Dimension a few millennia ago for tempting people to sloth. Elena made a mental note to ask Meredith whether this meant tempting them to eat sloths, which she knew were some kind of wild animal that didn’t move around much, or something else.

Then Elena thought that Lady Ulma had called the dress a “goddess dress,” hadn’t she? It was certainly a dress you could only wear if your body was very young and very close to perfection, because there was no way to fit corsetry into it or even to drape it to minimize an unflattering feature. The only things under the dress were Elena’s own firm young physique and a pair of scant, soft flesh-colored lace underwear. Oh, and a spray of jasmine perfume.

So it’s a goddess I feel like, she thought, thanking the demon (who stood and bowed). People were taking their seats for the Silver Nightingale’s first performance. Elena had to admit to a longing to see Lady Fazina, and besides, it was too early to try for a restroom trip—Elena had already noticed that guards were posted at all the doors.

There were two harps on a dais in the middle of a great circle of chairs. And then suddenly everyone was on their feet and clapping, and Elena would have seen nothing, if the Lady Fazina had not chosen to walk down the same aisle Elena and Damon had taken. As it was, she paused right beside Sage to acknowledge the roar of acclamation, and Elena had a perfect view of her.

She was a lovely young woman, who to Elena’s surprise looked hardly older than twenty, and was nearly as small as Bonnie. This diminutive creature obviously took her sobriquet very seriously: she was dressed entirely in a gown of silver mesh. Her hair was metallic silver, too, swept high in front and very short in back. Her train was barely attached to her, by two simple clasps at the shoulders. It floated horizontally behind her, constantly in motion, more like a moonbeam or a cloud than like real material until she got to the central dais and ascended it, then walked once around the tall uncovered harp, at which point the suspended part of the cape fell softly and gracefully to the floor in a semicircle around her.

And then came the magic of the Silver Nightingale’s voice. She began by playing the tall harp, which seemed even taller in comparison to her small body. She could make the harp sing under her fingers, coax it to cry like the wind or make music that seemed to descend from heaven in glissandos. Elena wept throughout her first song, even though it was sung in some foreign language. It was so piercingly sweet that it reminded Elena of Stefan, of the times they had been together, communicating by only the softest words and touches…

But Lady Fazina’s most impressive instrument was her voice. Her tiny body could generate an extraordinary volume when she wanted it to. And as she sang one poignant, minor-tuned song after another, Elena could feel her skin break out into gooseflesh, and a trembling in her legs. She felt that at any moment she might fall to her knees as the melodies filled her heart.

When someone touched her from behind, Elena started violently, brought back too quickly from the fantasy world the music had woven around her. But it was only Meredith, who despite her own love for music had a very practical suggestion for their group.

“I was going to say, why not start now, while everyone else is listening?” she whispered. “Even the guards are out of it. We agreed on two by two, yes?”

Elena nodded. “We’re just having a look around the house. We may even find something while everyone is still
here
, listening, for nearly another hour. Sage, maybe you could sort of liaise between the two groups, telepathically.”

“It would be my privilege,
Madame
.”

The five of them set out into the Silver Nightingale’s mansion.