"Welcome," the phantom said to her in a tone of pleasure, as though they were old friends. "I've found you and your friends so refreshing, al your little jealousies. Each of you with your own special flavor of envy. You've got an awful lot of problems, don't you? I haven't felt so strong or so wel -nourished for mil ennia." Its face became thoughtful, and it began to shake Damon gently up and down. He was making a guttural choking noise now, and tears of pain ran down his face.
"But you real y should have stayed where I put you," the phantom continued, its voice a little colder, and it swung Damon casual y in a great arc through the air. He wheezed and pul ed at its huge hand. Was it even true that he didn't need to breathe? Elena didn't know. Damon wasn't above lying about it if he had a reason, or even for no reason except to annoy his opponent.
"Stop it!" Elena shouted.
The phantom laughed again, genuinely amused. "Go ahead and make me, little one." Its grip tightened around Damon's throat and he shuddered. Then his eyes rol ed back until Elena could see only the ghastly, red-veined whites of his eyes, and he went limp.
Chapter 32
Matt watched in horror as the phantom shook Damon like a rag dol .
Elena spun around to lock eyes with Matt and Bonnie.
"We have to save him," she whispered, a fierce determination on her face, and immediately took off running, shoving her way through the piles of ash. Matt figured that if Damon, with al his vampire strength and fighting skil s honed over the centuries, was so completely helpless in the hands of this phantom - and jeez, with the way it was yanking him back and forth now, his head real y was going to pop off - then Matt, Bonnie, and Elena had less than a snowbal 's chance in hel of making any difference to this fight. The only real question would be whether the phantom would kil them, too. And the truth was that Matt didn't even like Damon, not one tiny little bit. Sure, Damon had helped save Fel 's Church from Katherine and Klaus, and from the kitsune demons, but he was stil a murderous, sarcastic, unrepentant, cocky, arrogant, nasty, usual y unpleasant vampire. Damon had undoubtedly hurt more people than he had helped over his long life, even if you generously credited him with saving every single resident of Fel 's Church. And he always cal ed Matt "Mutt," pretending that he couldn't remember his actual name, which was completely infuriating. As Damon meant it to be. Stil , Elena loved Damon. For whatever reason. Probably the same inexplicable reason that regular girls loved regular old bad boys, Matt suspected. A dyed-in-the-wool good guy, he'd never seen the appeal himself. But Elena did.
And Damon was part of the team, sort of, and you didn't leave your teammates to get decapitated by demon icewomen on ash-blanketed moons in other dimensions without at least doing your best to put up a fight. Not even if you didn't like them at al .
Matt ran after Elena, and Bonnie fol owed. When they reached the phantom, Elena was already scrabbling at the icy blue hand clutched around Damon's throat, trying to pry its fingers up enough to slip her own underneath. The phantom barely glanced at her. Matt gave an inward sigh at the hopelessness of it al and swung a powerful roundhouse blow toward the phantom's stomach.
Before his fist could connect, his target turned from ice to swirling, intangible mist, and his punch passed right through the phantom. Thrown off balance, Matt staggered and fel into the phantom's now-vaporous torso.
It was like fal ing into a freezing-cold river of sewage. A numbing chil and a horrible, sickening smel washed over Matt. He pul ed back out of the mist, nauseous and shivering but upright. He blinked dazedly around. Elena was grappling with the phantom's fingers, scratching and yanking, and the phantom watched her with a kind of distant amusement, not the least bit alarmed or discomforted by the girl's efforts. Then it moved, so quickly Matt saw only a blur of bluish green, sending Elena flying, her arms and legs flailing, into a heap of ash. She scrambled to her feet immediately, blood trickling from her hairline, leaving red tracks through the ash that now coated her skin.
Bonnie was trying, too: She'd worked her way around behind the phantom and was hitting and kicking at it. Mostly, her feet and fists swung harmlessly right through the phantom's mist, but occasional y a blow would connect with the more solid ice. These blows seemed like they were total y ineffective, though: Matt couldn't tel whether the phantom had even noticed Bonnie was attacking it. Veins were bulging out of Damon's face and neck, and he hung from the phantom's hand. The flesh of his neck was white around the stretched tendons. Superpowered strong old vampire or not, Damon was hurting. Matt tossed up a prayer in the direction of whatever saint looked after people pursuing hopeless causes, and threw himself back into the fight.
There was blackness. And then there was pain, and the darkness reddened, then cleared, and Damon could see once more.
The phantom - that bitch of a phantom - was holding him by the neck, and her skin was so cold, so cold it burned everywhere it touched him. He couldn't move. But he could see Elena standing below him. Beautiful Elena, covered in ash, streaked with blood, her teeth bared and her eyes flashing like a warrior goddess. His heart swel ed with love and fear. The brave little redbird and the boy Mutt fought beside her.
Please, he wanted to say. Don't try to save me. Run. Elena, you have to run.
But he couldn't move, couldn't speak.
Then the phantom shifted her stance and, as Damon watched, Elena stopped her attack and clutched at her stomach, grimacing in pain. Matt and Bonnie were holding themselves as wel , their faces pale and strained, their mouths open in screams. With a wail, Bonnie col apsed. Oh no, Damon thought with a bolt of horror. Not Elena. Not the redbird. Not for me.