Where is it?
Damon had thrown himself into the flames alongside Stefan, yanking at the phantom's arms and neck, keeping its torso clear for Elena, preventing the phantom from ripping free and throwing her across the room. Meredith beat at Jealousy's side with her stave. Behind her, her friends' voices rose in a babble of confessions and spel s as they did their part to keep the phantom off balance and disoriented.
At last Elena's hand found the cut and she pushed inside. It was icy cold in the phantom's chest, and Elena yelped at the contrast - the cold was excruciating after the heat, and the flames stil licked at her wrist and arm. The freezing liquid inside the phantom's chest was so thick, it was like feeling through gelatin. Elena shoved and reached, and the phantom screamed with pain.
It was a horrible sound and, despite al that the phantom had done to her and her friends, Elena could not help flinching in sympathy. A moment later, Elena's hand closed on the rose's stem and a thousand thorns pierced her burned flesh. Ignoring the pain, she pul ed the rose out of the freezing liquid, out of the fire, and staggered backward, away from the phantom.
She didn't know what she'd expected to happen, exactly. For the phantom to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, perhaps, leaving nothing but a puddle of vile greenish water. Instead, the phantom stared at her, its mouth open, its pointed, shining teeth on ful display. The tear in its chest had expanded, and fluid oozed rapidly, like an untended faucet. The flames burned low and green where the liquid tracked down its body and dripped to the floor.
"Give it to me," Stefan said, appearing at Elena's side. He took the rose from her hand and ripped at its petals, now fading to a lighter pink, and scattered the petals into the fire burning up the sides of the garage. The phantom watched with a stunned expression, and gradual y its blazing fire thinned to smoke, its solid form slowly vaporizing. For a moment, a smoky, malevolent image hung in the air before them, its eyes fixed sul enly upon Elena. And then it was gone.
Chapter 36
Damon was the first to move, which didn't surprise Elena. His leather jacket scorched, long burns running across his face and arms, he staggered past the others through the fire and threw open the garage door. Outside, thunder rumbled overhead and a heavy rain was fal ing. Despite the rain, the garage was burning ferociously, flames licking their way up the sides of the smal building and across the roof. As they al stumbled outside, Meredith, coughing, turned her face up to the rain. Matt and Alaric supported Mrs. Flowers and placed her in the driver's seat of her car. Elena held her hands out, letting the driving rain wash away the soot and soothe her burns. The rest of her friends mil ed around not far from the burning garage, stil stunned.
"Oh, Damon," said Bonnie. She paused to cough and wheeze for a few seconds, then leaned careful y toward Damon, avoiding his injuries, and kissed him on the cheek.
"I'm so happy you came back."
"Thank you, redbird," Damon said, patting her on the back. "Excuse me for a second; I need to take care of something." He stepped away and caught Elena by the hand.
In the distance came the wail of sirens, signaling the advance of fire trucks and police cars drawn by the fire. Damon pul ed Elena toward the dark shadows under a tree near the house. "Come on," he said. "You need blood now." He felt his throat with charred fingers, then drew a fingernail against one of his veins. His leather jacket was practical y destroyed, just rags and ashes hanging from him, and the long burns on his face and body were stil red and raw-looking, but already better than they had been a few minutes before.
"I could do that," said Stefan, approaching them and leaning against the wal of the house. He looked tired and bedraggled, but his injuries, too, were already healing.
"Elena's always welcome to my blood."
"You can definitely pitch in. But that's a bad injury she's got," said Damon matter-of-factly, "and you don't have the Power to heal it right now."
Elena had been trying not to look at her right hand. Although she couldn't real y move it, it didn't hurt much anymore. Which was probably a bad sign, actual y. Did that mean the nerve endings were dead? A quick, anxious glance down at her hand made her stomach churn. Even that tiny glimpse showed her horribly blackened and reddened flesh and peeling skin and - God - she thought she'd seen a glimpse of bone beneath the flesh. She let out a low, involuntary whimper.
"Drink," said Damon impatiently. "Let me fix it before they come and drag you off to the burn unit." Elena stil hesitated, and Damon sighed and turned to Stefan again.
"Look," he said, his voice softening, "it's not always about Power. Sometimes the blood is just about taking care of someone."
"I know that," Stefan replied, blinking tiredly at him. "I just wasn't sure that you did."
Damon's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm an old man, little brother," he said. "I know a lot of things." He turned back to Elena. "Drink now," he insisted, and Stefan smiled reassuringly at her.
Elena nodded at Stefan before pushing her mouth tightly against Damon's neck. The second she tasted his blood, Elena became wrapped in warmth and the pain in her hand stopped. She no longer felt the unpleasant cold drumming of the rain on her head and shoulders, the icy trickle of water down her body. She was cozy and safe and loved, and time had stopped just long enough for her to catch her breath.
Damon? she thought, and reached out to his mind with hers. He answered her without words, but with a wave of affection and care, of undemanding love. Through the haze, Elena realized there was something new here... When she and Damon had al owed their minds to touch in the past, she had often sensed that Damon had been holding back a part of himself. Or, on the rare occasions when she got past the inner barriers he'd thrown up against intruders, she'd found hurt and rage, a lost child chained to a rock.