The Return: Shadow Souls

“Two cars.”

The new voice came from directly behind Matt and Elena, but the car dealer’s eyes widened as if he had just seen a ghost.

Elena turned and met Damon’s unfathomable black gaze. He had his Ray-Bans hooked over his T-shirt and was standing with his hands behind his back. He was looking hard at the car dealer.

A few moments passed, and then…

“The…silver Prius in the back right corner. Under…under the awning,” the car dealer said slowly, and with a dazed expression — in answer to no question that had been asked aloud. “I’ll…take you there,” he added in a voice to match his expression.

“Take the keys with you. Let the boy test-drive it,” Damon ordered, and the owner fumbled to show a key ring at his belt, and then walked slowly away, staring at nothing.

Elena turned to Damon. “One guess. You asked him which was the best car on his lot.”

“Substitute ‘least disgusting’ and you’d be closer,” Damon said. He flashed a brilliant smile at her for a tenth of a second, and then turned it off.

“But, Damon, why two cars? I know it’s more fair and all, but what are we going to do with the second car?”

“Caravan,” Damon said.

“Oh, no.” But even Elena could see the benefits of this — at least after they held a summit to decide on a rotation schedule between the cars for Elena. She sighed. “Well — if Matt agrees…”

“Mutt will agree,” Damon said, looking very briefly—very briefly — as innocent as an angel.

“What have you got behind your back?” Elena said, deciding not to pursue the question of what Damon intended to do to Matt.

Damon smiled again, but this time it was an odd smile, just a quirk of one side of his mouth. His eyes said it was nothing much. But his right hand came out and it was holding the most beautiful rose Elena had ever seen in her life.

It was the deepest red rose she had ever seen, yet there wasn’t a hint of purple to it — it was just velvety burgundy, and open at exactly the moment of full bloom. It looked as if it would be plush to the touch, and its vivid green stem, with just a few delicate leaves here and there, was at least eighteen inches long and straight as a ruler.

Elena resolutely put her own hands behind her back. Damon wasn’t the sentimental type — even when he got on his “Princess of the Night” soapbox. The rose probably had something to do with their journey.

“Don’t you like it?” Damon said. Elena might be imagining it, but it almost sounded as if he were disappointed.

“Of course I like it. What’s it for?”

Damon settled back. “It’s for you, Princess,” he said, looking hurt. “Don’t worry; I didn’t steal it.”

No — he wouldn’t have stolen it. Elena knew exactly how he would have gotten the rose…but it was so pretty….

As she still made no move to take the rose, Damon lifted it and allowed the cool, silky-feeling petals to caress her cheek.

It made her shiver. “Stop it, Damon,” she murmured, but she didn’t seem to be able to step backward.

He didn’t stop. He used the cool, softly rustling petals to outline the other side of her face. Elena took a deep breath automatically, but what she smelled was not flowerlike at all. It was the smell of some dark, dark wine, something ancient and fragrant that had once made her drunk immediately. Drunk on Black Magic and on her own heady excitement…just to be with Damon.

But that wasn’t the real me, a small voice in her head protested. I love Stefan. Damon…I want…I want to…

“Do you want to know why I got this particular rose?” Damon was saying softly, his voice blending in with her memories. “I got it because of its name. It’s a Black Magic rose.”

“Yes,” Elena said simply. She’d known that before he said it. It was the only name that fit.

Now Damon was giving her a rose kiss by swirling the blossom in a circle on her cheek and then applying pressure. The firmer petals in the middle pressed into her skin, while the outer petals just brushed it.

Elena was feeling distinctly light-headed. The day was warm and humid already; how could the rose feel so cool? Now the outermost petals had moved to trace her lips, and she wanted to say no, but somehow the word wouldn’t come.

It was as if she had been transported back in time, back to the days when Damon had first appeared to her, had first claimed her for his own. When she had almost let him kiss her before she knew his name….

He hadn’t changed his ideas since then. Vaguely, Elena remembered thinking something like that before. Damon changed other people while remaining unchanged himself.

But I’ve changed, Elena thought, and suddenly there was quicksand under her feet. I’ve changed so much since then. Enough to see things in Damon I’d never imagined could be there. Not just the wild and angry dark parts, but the gentle parts. The honor and decency that were trapped like veins of gold inside that stone boulder in his mind.

I have to help him, Elena thought. Somehow, I have to help him — and the little boy chained outside the boulder.

These thoughts had trickled slowly through her mind while it seemed separated from her body. She was so involved with them, in fact, that she somehow lost track of her body, and only now did she realize how much closer Damon had gotten. Her back was against one of the sad, sagging cars. And Damon was speaking lightly, but with an undertone of seriousness.

“A rose for a kiss, then?” he asked. “It is called Black Magic, and I did come by it honestly. Her name was…it was…”

Damon stopped, and for a moment a look of intense bewilderment flashed across his face. Then he smiled, but it was the warrior’s smile, the brilliant one he turned on and off almost before you were sure you had seen it. Elena sensed trouble. Sure, Damon still didn’t remember Matt’s name correctly, but she had never known him to forget a girl’s name when he was really trying to remember. Especially within minutes of when he must have fed from that girl.

Shinichi again? Elena wondered. Was he still taking Damon’s memories — only the highlights, of course? The thrills, good or bad? Elena knew that Damon himself was thinking the same thing. His black eyes were smoldering. Damon was furious — but there was a certain vulnerability about his fury.

Without thinking, Elena put her hands on Damon’s forearms. She ignored the rose, even as he traced the curve of her cheekbone with it. She tried to speak steadily. “Damon, what are we going to do?”

That was the scene that Matt walked in on. Ran in on, actually. He came weaving through a maze of cars, and dashed around a white SUV with one flat tire, shouting, “Hey, you guys, that Prius is…”

And then he stopped dead.

Elena knew what he was seeing: Damon caressing her with the rose, while she was practically embracing him. She let go of Damon’s arms, but she couldn’t back away from him because of the car behind her.

“Matt—” Elena began, and then her voice trailed off. She had been about to say “This isn’t what it looks like. We’re not in the middle of a cuddle. I’m not really touching him.” But this was what it looked like. She cared about Damon; she had been trying to get through to him….

With a small shock, that thought repeated itself with the force of a shaft of sunlight shooting through an unprotected vampire’s body.

She cared about Damon.

She really did. It was usually difficult being with him because they were alike in so many ways. Headstrong, each wanting their own way, passionate, impatient…

She and Damon were alike.

Small shocks were going though Elena, and her entire body felt weak. She found herself glad to lean against the car behind her, even though it must be getting dust all over her clothes.

I love Stefan, she thought almost hysterically. He’s the only one I love. But I need Damon to get to him. And