Vampire Diaries - The Return Nightfall Part 17

"Yes," Elena said with quiet certainty. "But Matt, you're wrong if you think Damon would do anything to keep Stefan away from me. Damon's not what you all think. He really was trying to save Bonnie that night. And he truly felt hurt when you all hated him." "This is what is called 'evidence of motive,' I think," Meredith remarked.

"No. It's character evidence-evidence that Damondoes have feelings, that he can care for human beings," Elena countered. "And he would never hurt Stefan, because-well, because of me. He knows how I would feel."

"Well, why won't he answer me, then?" Bonnie said querulously.

"Maybe because the last time he saw us all together, we were glaring at him as if we hated him," said Meredith, who was always fair.

"Tell him I beg his pardon," Elena said. "Tell him that I want to talk with him."

"I feel like a communications satellite," Bonnie complained, but she clearly put all her heart and strength into each call. At last, she looked completely wrung out and exhausted.

And, at last, even Elena had to admit it was no good.

"Maybe he'll come to his senses and start callingyou ," Bonnie said. "Maybe tomorrow."

"We're going to stay with you tonight," Meredith said. "Bonnie, I called your sister and told her you'd be with me. Now I'm going to call my dad and tell him I'll be with you. Matt, you're not invited-"

"Thanks," Matt said dryly. "Do I get to walk home, too?"

"No, you can take my car home," Elena said. "But please bring it back here early tomorrow. I don't want people to start asking about it."

That night, the three girls prepared to make themselves comfortable, schoolgirl fas.h.i.+on, in Mrs. Flowers' spare sheets and blankets (no wonder she washed so many sheets today-she must have known somehow, Elena thought), with the furniture pushed to the walls and the three makes.h.i.+ft sleeping bags on the floor. Their heads were together and their bodies radiated out like the spokes of a wheel.

Elena thought, So this is the Awakening.

It's the realization that, after all, I can be left alone again. And, oh, I'm grateful to have Meredith and Bonnie sticking with me. It means more than I can tell them.

She had gone automatically to the computer, to write a little in her diary. But after the first few words she'd found herself crying again, and had been secretly glad when Meredith took her by the shoulders and more or less forced her to drink hot milk with vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg, and when Bonnie had helped her into her pile of sleeping blankets and then held her hand until she went to sleep.

Matt had stayed late, and the sun was setting as he drove home. It was a race against darkness, he thought suddenly, refusing to be distracted by the Jaguar's expensive new-car smell. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was pondering. He hadn't wanted to say anything to the girls, but there was something about Stefan's farewell note that bothered him. The only thing was, he had to make sure it wasn't just his injured pride speaking.

Why hadn't Stefan ever mentionedthem ? Elena's friends from the past, her friends in the here and now. You'd think he'd at least give the girls a mention, even if he'd forgotten Matt in the pain of leaving Elena permanently.

What else? There definitely was something else, but Matt couldn't bring it to mind. All he got was a vague, wavering image about high school last year and-yeah, Ms. Hilden, the English teacher. Even as Matt was daydreaming about this, he was taking care with his driving. There was no way to avoid the Old Wood entirely on the long, single-lane road that led from the boardinghouse to Fell's Church proper. But he was looking ahead, keeping alert.

He saw the fallen tree even as he came around the corner and hit the brakes in time to come to a screeching stop, with the car at an almost ninety-degree angle to the road.

And then he had to think.

His first instinctive reaction was: call Stefan. He can just lift the tree right off the ground. But he remembered fast enough that that thought was knocked away by a question. Call the girls?

He couldn't make himself do it. It wasn't just a question of masculine dignity-it was the solid reality of the mature tree in front of him. Even if they all worked together, they couldn't move that thing. It was too big, too heavy.

And it had fallen from the Old Wood so that it lay directly across the road, as if it wanted to separate the boardinghouse from the rest of the town.

Cautiously, Matt rolled down the driver's side window. He peered into the Old Wood to try to see the tree's roots, or, he admitted to himself, any kind of movement. There was none.

He couldn't see the roots, but this tree looked far too healthy to have just fallen over on a sunny summer afternoon. No wind, no rain, no lightning, no beavers. No lumberjacks, he thought grimly.

Well, the ditch on the right side was shallow, at least, and the tree's crown didn't quite reach it. It might be possible- Movement.

Not in the forest, but on the tree right in front of him. Something was stirring the tree's upper branches, something more than wind.

When he saw it, he still couldn't believe it. That was part of the problem. The other part was that he was driving Elena's car, not his old jalopy. So while he was frantically groping for a way to shut the window, with his eyes glued to thething detaching itself from the tree, he was groping in all the wrong places.

And the final thing was simply that the beast was fast. Much too fast to be real.

The next thing Matt knew, he was fighting it off at the window.

Matt didn't know what Elena had shown Bonnie at the picnic. But if this wasn't a malach, then what the h.e.l.l was it? Matt had lived around woods his entire life, and he'd never seen any insect remotely like this one before.

Because it was an insect. Its skin looked bark-like, but that was just camouflage. As it banged against the half- raised car window-as he beat it off with both hands-he could hear and feel its chitinous exterior. It was as long as his arm, and it seemed to fly by whipping its tentacles in a circle-which should be impossible, but here it was stuck halfway inside the window.

It was built more like a leech or a squid than like any insect. Its long, snakelike tentacles looked almost like vines, but they were thicker than a finger and had large suckers on them-and inside the suckers was something sharp. Teeth. One of the vines got around his neck, and he could feel the suction and the pain all at once.

The vine had whipped around his throat three or four times, and it was tightening. He had to use one hand to reach up and rip it away. That meant only one hand available to flail at the headless thing-which suddenly showed it had a mouth, if no eyes. Like everything else about the beast, the mouth was radially symmetrical: it was round, with its teeth arranged in a circle. But deep inside that circle, Matt saw to his horror as the bug drew his arm in, was a pair of pincers big enough to cut off a finger.

G.o.d-no. He clenched his hand into a fist, desperately trying to batter it from the inside. The burst of adrenaline he had after seeingthat allowed him to pull the whipping vine from around his throat, the suckers coming free last. But now his arm had been swallowed up past the elbow. Matt made himself strike at the insect's body, hitting it as if it were a shark, which was the other thing it reminded him of.

He had to get his arm out. He found himself blindly prying the bottom of the round mouth open and merely snapping off a chunk of exoskeleton that landed in his lap. Meanwhile the tentacles were still whirling around, thumping against the car, looking for a way in.

At some point it was going to realize that all it had to do was fold those thras.h.i.+ng vine-like things and it could squeeze its body through.

Something sharp grazed his knuckles. The pincers! His arm was almost completely engulfed. Even as Matt was focused entirely on how to get out, some part of him wondered: where's its stomach? This beast isn'tpossible .

He had to get his arm freenow . He was going to lose his hand, as sure as if he'd put it in the garbage disposal and turned it on.

He'd already undone his seat belt. Now with one violent heave, he threw his body to the right, toward the pa.s.senger seat. He could feel the teeth raking his arm as he dragged it past them. He could see the long, b.l.o.o.d.y furrows it left in his arm. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting his armout .

At that moment his other hand found the b.u.t.ton that controlled the window. He mashed it upward, dragging his wrist and hand out of the bug's mouth just as the window closed on it.

What he expected was a crackling of chiton and black blood gus.h.i.+ng out, maybe eating through the floor of Elena's new car, like that scuttling thing inAlien .

Instead the bug vaporized. It simply...turned transparent and then turned into tiny particles of light that disappeared even as he stared at them.

He was left with one arm with long b.l.o.o.d.y scratches on it, swelling sores on his throat, and sc.r.a.ped knuckles on the other hand. But he didn't waste time counting his injuries. He had to make it out of there; the branches were stirring again and he didn't want to wait to see whether it was wind.

There was only one way. The ditch.

He put the car in drive and floored it. He headed for the ditch, hoping that it wasn't too deep, hoping that the tree wouldn't somehow foul the tires.

There was a sharp plunge that made his teeth clash together, catching his lip between them. And then there was the crunch of leaves and branches under the car, and for a moment all movement stopped, but Matt kept his foot pressed as hard as he could on the accelerator, and suddenly he was free, and being thrown around as the car careened in the ditch. He managed to get control of it and swerved back onto the road just in time to make a sharp left turn where it curved abruptly and the ditch ran out.

He was hyperventilating. He took curves at nearly fifty miles an hour, with half his attention on the Old Wood-until suddenly, blessedly, a solitary red light stared at him like a beacon in the dusk.

The intersection with Mallory. He had to force himself to screech to another rubber-burning stop. A hard right turn and he was sailing away from the woods. He'd have to loop around a dozen neighborhoods to get home, but at least he'd stay clear of any large groves of trees.

It was a big loop, and now that the danger was over, Matt was starting to feel the pain of his furrowed arm. By the time he was pulling the Jaguar up to his house, he was also feeling dizzy. He sat under a streetlight and then let the car coast into the darkness beyond. He didn't want anyone to see him so rattled.

Should he call the girlsnow ? Warn them not to go out tonight, that the woods were dangerous? But they already knew that.

Meredith would never let Elena go to the Old Wood, not now that Elena was human. And Bonnie would kick up a huge noisy fuss if anyone even mentioned going out in the dark-after all, Elena had shown her thosethings that were out there, hadn't she? Malach.An ugly word for a genuinely hideous creature.

What they really needed was for some official people to go out and clear the tree away. But not at night. n.o.body else was likely to be using that lonely road tonight, and sending people out there-well, it was like handing them over to the malach on a platter. He would call the police about it first thing tomorrow. They'd get the right people out there to move that thing.

It was dark, and later than he'd imagined. He probably should call the girls, after all. He just wished his head would clear. His scratches itched and burned. He was finding it hard to think. Maybe if he just took a moment to breathe...

He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. And then the dark closed in.

18.

Matt woke, fuzzily, to find himself still behind the steering wheel of Elena's car. He stumbled into his house, almost forgetting to lock the car, and then fumbling with keys to unlock the back door. The house was dark; his parents were asleep. He made it up to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed without even taking off his shoes.

When he woke again, he was startled to find it was nineA.M . and his mobile phone was ringing in his jeans pocket.

"Mer'dith?"

"We thought you were coming over early this morning."

"I am, but I've got to figure outhow first," Matt said-or rather, croaked. His head felt twice its usual size and his arm at least four times too big. Even so, something in the back of his mind was calculating how to get to the boardinghouse without taking the Old Wood Road at all. Finally a few neurons lit up and showed him.

"Matt? Are you still there?"

"I'm not sure. Last night...G.o.d, I don't evenremember most of last night. But on the way home-look, I'll tell you when I get there.

First I have to call the police."

"Thepolice ?"

"Yeah...look...just give me an hour, okay? I'll be there in an hour."

When he finally arrived at the boardinghouse, it was closer to eleven than to ten. But a shower had cleared his head, even if it hadn't done much for his throbbing arm. When he did appear, he was engulfed in worried femininity.

"Matt,what happened ?"

He told them everything he could remember. When Elena, with set lips, undid the Ace bandage he had wrapped around his arm, they all winced. The long scratches were clearly badly infected.

"They're poisonous, then, these malach."

"Yes," Elena said tersely. "Poisonous to body and mind."

"And you think one of these can getinside people?" Meredith asked. She was doodling on a notebook page, trying to draw something that looked like what Matt had described.

"Yes."

For just a moment Elena's and Meredith's eyes met-then both looked down. At last Meredith said, "And how do we know whether one is inside...someone...or not?"

"Bonnie should be able to tell, in trance," Elena said evenly. "Even I might be able to tell, but I'm not going to use White Power for that. We're going down to see Mrs. Flowers."

She said it in that special way that Matt had learned to recognize long ago, and it meant that no argument would do any good. She was putting her foot down, and that was that.

And the truth was that Matt didn't feel very much like arguing. He hated to complain-he'd played through football games with a broken collarbone, a sprained knee, a turned ankle-but this was different. His arm felt in danger of exploding.

Mrs. Flowers was downstairs in the kitchen, but on the family room table were four gla.s.ses of iced tea.

"I'll be right with you," she called through the swinging half-door that divided the kitchen from where they were standing. "Drink the tea, especially the young man who's injured. It'll help him relax."

"Herbal tea," Bonnie whispered to the others, as if this were some trade secret.

The tea wasn't all that bad, although Matt would've preferred a c.o.ke. But when he thought of it as medicine, and with the girls all watching him like hawks, he managed to get over half of it down before the landlady came out.

She was wearing her gardening hat-or at least a hat with artificial flowers on it that looked as if it had been used for gardening. But on a cookie tray, she had a number of instruments, all gleaming as if they'd just been boiled.

"Yes, dear, I am," she said to Bonnie, who had stood up in front of Matt protectively. "I used to be a nurse, just like your sister.

Women weren't encouraged to be doctors then. But all my life I've been a witch. Gets kind of lonely, doesn't it?"

"It wouldn't be so lonely," Meredith said, looking puzzled, "if you lived closer to town."

"Ah, but then I'd have people staring at my house all the time, and children daring each other to run and touch it, or to throw a stone through my window, or adults peering at me every time I went shopping. And how could I ever keep my garden in peace?"

It was the longest speech any of them had ever heard her make. It took them so by surprise that it was a moment before Elena said, "I don't see how you can keep your garden in peace outhere . What with all the deer and rabbits and other animals."

"Well, most of it isfor the animals, you see." Mrs.

Flowers smiled beatifically and her face seemed to light up from within. "They surely enjoy it. But they don't enjoy the herbs I grow for putting on sc.r.a.pes and cuts and sprains and such. And perhaps they know I'm a witch, too, since they always leave me a bit of the garden for myself and maybe a guest or two."

"Why are you telling me all of this now?" Elena demanded. "Why, there've been times when I was looking for you, or for Stefan, when I thought-well, never mind what I thought. But I wasn't always sure you were our friend."

"The truth is that I've gotten solitary and unsociable in my old age. But now you've lost your young man, haven't you? I wish I had gotten up a little earlier this morning. Then I might have been able to speak to him. He left the money for a year's rental of the room on the kitchen table. I've always had a soft spot for him, and that's the truth."

Elena's lips were trembling. Matt hastily and heroically lifted his wounded arm. "Can you help at all with this?" he asked, peeling the Ace bandage away again.

"Oh, my, my. And what sort of critter gave you these?" Mrs. Flowers said, examining the scratches while the three girls winced.

"We think it was a malach," Elena said quietly. "Do you know anything about those?" "I've heard the word, yes, but I don't know anything specific. How long ago did you get them?" she asked Matt. "They look more like tooth marks than claw marks."

"They are," Matt said grimly, and he described the malach to her as best he could. It was partly to keep himself distracted, because Mrs. Flowers had picked up one of the gleaming instruments from the cookie tray and was starting to do things to his red and swollen arm.

"Hold as still as you can on this towel," she said. "These have already scabbed over, but they need to be opened and drained and cleaned out properly. It's going to hurt. Why don't one of you young women hold his hand to help keep his arm steady?"