"Fel 's Church," he said into the empty air. "The United States, the mortal realm. Somewhere I can hide."
He raised a hand in solemn salute to Sage and pushed the elevator's single button.
Elena woke up in darkness. She ran a quick and automatic mental check: smooth, fabric-softener-scented cotton sheets, dim light from the window past the foot of her bed on the right, the faint sound of Robert snoring in his and Aunt Judith's bedroom at the other end of the hal . Her own old familiar room. Home again.
She heaved a deep sigh. She didn't feel quite as mired in despair as she had when she climbed into bed; things were dark, but she could admit there was a possibility they might someday get better again. But her eyes and throat felt raw from crying. She missed Damon so much. A floorboard creaked. Elena stiffened. She knew that creak. It was the high, complaining whine the floorboard over near her window gave if you stepped right in the middle of it. Someone was in her room.
Elena lay very stil , running through the possibilities. Stefan would have announced himself as soon as he heard her sigh. Was it Margaret, quietly wandering in to crawl into bed with Elena?
"Margaret?" she asked softly.
There was no answer. Her ears straining, Elena thought she could make out the sound of slow, heavy breathing. Suddenly the lamp on her desk was switched on, and Elena was temporarily dazzled by the bright light. She could see only the silhouette of a dark figure.
Then her vision cleared. And at the foot of her bed, a half smile on his chiseled face, dark eyes wary, as if he was unsure of his welcome, stood a figure dressed al in black. Damon.
Chapter 22
Elena couldn't breathe. She could vaguely feel her mouth opening and closing, but she found she wasn't able to say anything. Her hands and feet had gone numb. Damon gave her an almost shy smile - which was funny, because Damon didn't do shy - and shrugged. "Wel , princess? You wanted me to be here with you, didn't you?"
As if a rubber band holding her back had snapped, Elena leaped out of bed and hurtled into Damon's arms.
"Are you real?" she said, half sobbing. "Is this real?" She kissed him fiercely, and he met her kiss with equal fervor. He felt real, cool skin and leather, the surprising softness of his lips familiar under hers.
"Here I am," he murmured into her hair as he pul ed her close to him. "It's real, I promise you."
Elena stepped back and smacked him hard across the face. Damon glared at her and reached up to rub his cheek. "Ouch," he said, and then cracked a narrow, irritating smile. "I can't say that was completely unexpected
- I get slapped by women more often than you'd think possible - but not a nice welcome for the long-lost love, sweetheart."
"How could you?" Elena said, dry-eyed now and furious.
"How could you, Damon? We've al been mourning you. Stefan's fal ing apart. Bonnie blames herself. I... I... A piece of my heart died. How long have you been watching us? Didn't you care? Was this al some kind of joke to you?
Did you laugh when we cried?"
Damon winced. "Darling," he said. "My princess. Aren't you glad to see me at al ?"
"Of course I am!" said Elena indignantly. She took a breath and cooled down a little. "But, Damon, what were you thinking? We al thought you were dead! Permanently dead, not show-up-in-my-bedroom-a-few-days-laterlooking-perfectly-healthy dead! What's going on? Did the Guardians do this? They told me they couldn't when I begged them to, that death is permanent for a vampire once it happens."
Damon graced her with a genuine, laughing smile. "Wel , you of al people ought to know that death isn't always permanent."
Elena shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself.
"They told me that when I came back, it was different," she said in a smal voice, her emotions zigzagging al over the place. Because you're in shock, a tiny voice at the back of her head said wisely. "Mystical stuff, you know. My time wasn't up. Hey!" She poked him with one finger, perking up.
"Are you human now? I was human when I returned."
Damon gave a long, theatrical shudder. "God forbid. I had enough of that when that meddling kitsune made me a mortal. Thank heaven - or whoever - I don't have to go looking for an obliging vampire princess to turn me back this time." He grinned slyly at Elena. "I'm as bloodsucking as ever, darling." He eyed her neck. "Speaking of which, I'm rather hungry..."
Elena smacked him again, though more gently this time.
"Knock it off, Damon."
"Can I sit down now?" Damon asked and, when she nodded, settled himself on the foot of her bed and drew her down to sit beside him. Elena looked searchingly into his eyes, then gently traced her hand over his sharp cheekbones, his sculpted mouth, his soft raven hair.
"You were dead, Damon," she said quietly. "I know it. I saw you die."
"Yes," he said, and sighed. "I felt myself die. It was horribly painful and it seemed to both go on forever and be over in a few moments." He shuddered. "There was a little bit left of me even then though" - Elena nodded - "and Stefan told me, told him, to fly away. And you held him -
held me - and told me to close my eyes. And then that last little bit of me was gone, too, and even the pain was gone. And then... I came back." Damon's dark eyes were wide with remembered wonder.
"But how?" asked Elena.
"Remember the star bal ?"
"How could I forget? It was the root of al our problems with the kitsune. It was vaporized when I... Oh, Damon, I used my Wings of Destruction on the tree on the Nether World's moon. But they destroyed the kitsune's star bal , too, and I had to go to the Guardians to save Fel 's Church. The Wings of Destruction were... like nothing I've ever seen or felt before." She shivered.
"I've seen what you did to that moon," Damon said, smiling slightly. "Would it make you feel better, my lovely angel, if you knew that using your Powers like that and destroying the star bal is what saved me?"
"Don't cal me that," said Elena, scowling. The Guardians were the closest thing she had ever seen to real angels, and she did not have fond memories of them. "How did it save you?"
"Do they explain how condensation works in modern schools?" Damon asked with the supercilious expression he always wore when he teasingly criticized her world in comparison to the one he had grown up in. "Is it al sex education, empathy, and second-rate novels now, or do they stil tel the children a little about science? I know they've dropped Latin and Greek in favor of theater and consciousness-raising." His voice dripped with contempt. Elena told herself not to rise to his bait. Instead she folded her hands neatly in front of her in her lap. "I think you may be a few decades out-of-date. But please, O wise one," she said, "assume that my education didn't include the connection between condensation and rising from the dead, and enlighten me."