The Return: Shadow Souls

“Stay here. Come with me; a bridal bed sounds big enough for two people. You’re one of us, now.”

The look Lakshmi gave her was one of sheer thunderstruck gratitude. Not at being given a place to stay, Elena understood. For the statement, “You’re one of us, now.” Elena could feel that Lakshmi had never been “one of” any group before.

Things were quiet until almost “dawn” the next “day,” as the city’s inhabitants called it, although the light hadn’t varied all night.

This time a different sort of crowd had gathered outside the doctor’s complex. It was mostly made up of elderly men wearing threadbare but clean robes — but there were a few old women, too. They were led by a silver-haired man who had a strange air of dignity.

Damon, with Sage as backup, went outside the doctor’s complex and spoke to them.

Elena was dressed but still upstairs in the quiet bridal suite.

Dear Diary,

Oh, God, I need help! Oh, Stefan — I need you. I need you to forgive me. I need you to keep me sane. Too much time around Damon and I’m completely emotional, ready to kill him or to…or to — I don’t know. I don’t know!!! We’re like flint and tinder together — God! We’re like gasoline and a flamethrower! Please hear me and help me and save me…from myself. Every time he even says my name…

“Elena.”

The voice behind Elena made her jump. She slammed the diary shut and turned around.

“Yes, Damon?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, great. Fine. Even my leg is b — I mean, I’m fine all over. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…well enough,” he said, and he smiled — and it was a real smile, not a snarl twisted into something else at the last second, or an attempt to manipulate. It was just a smile, if a rather worried and sad one.

Elena somehow didn’t notice the sadness until she remembered it later. She simply suddenly felt that she weighed nothing; that if she lost grip on herself she could be miles high before anyone could stop her — miles away, maybe even as far as this insane place’s moons.

She managed a shaky smile of her own at him. “That’s good.”

“I came to talk to you,” he said, “but…first—”

In another moment, somehow, Elena was in his arms.

“Damon — we can’t keep on…” She tried to pull away gently. “We really can’t keep doing this, you know.”

But Damon didn’t let go of her. There was something in the way he held her that half terrified her, and half made her want to cry with joy. She forced back the tears.

“It’s all right,” Damon said softly. “Go ahead and cry. We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

Something in his voice frightened Elena. Not in the half-joyful way she’d been fearful a minute ago, but entirely frightened.

It’s because he’s afraid, she thought suddenly in wonderment. She had seen Damon angry, wistful, cold, mocking, seductive — even subdued, ashamed — but she had never seen him afraid of anything. She could hardly get her mind around the concept. Damon…frightened…for her.

“It’s because of what I did yesterday, isn’t it?” she asked. “Are they going to kill me?” She was surprised at how calmly she said it. She felt nothing except a vague distress and the desire to make Damon not afraid anymore.

“No!” He held her at arm’s length, staring. “At least not without killing me and Sage — and all the people in this house, too, if I know them.” He stopped, seeming out of breath — which was impossible, Elena reminded herself. He’s playing for time, she thought.

“But that’s what they want to do,” she said. She didn’t know why she was so certain. Maybe she was picking up something telepathically.

“They have…made threats,” Damon said slowly. “It’s not the case of Old Drohzne really; I guess there are murders around here all the time and winner takes all. But apparently overnight word of what you did has been spreading. Slaves in nearby estates are refusing to obey their masters. This entire quarter of the slums is in turmoil — and they’re afraid of what will happen if other sectors hear about it. Something has to be done as soon as possible or the whole Dark Dimension may just explode like a bomb.”

Even as Damon spoke, Elena could hear the echoes of what he’d been told by the assembly who had come to Dr. Meggar’s door. They had been afraid, too.

Maybe this could be the start of something important, Elena thought, her mind soaring away from her own small problems. Even death wouldn’t be too high a price to pay to free these wretched people from their demonic masters.

“But that’s not what will happen!” Damon said, and Elena realized that she must be projecting her thoughts. There was genuine anguish in Damon’s voice. “If we had planned things, if there were leaders who could stay here and oversee a revolution — if we could even find leaders strong enough to do it — then there might be a chance. Instead, all the slaves are being punished, everywhere that the word has spread. They’re being tortured and killed on mere suspicion of sympathy with you. Their masters are making examples all over the city. And it’s only going to get worse.”

Elena’s heart, which had been soaring on a dream of actually making a difference, came crashing down to the ground and she stared, horrified, into Damon’s black eyes. “But we’ve got to stop that. Even if I have to die—”

Damon pulled her back in close to him. “You — and Bonnie and Meredith.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Plenty of people saw the three of you together. Plenty of people now see all three of you as the troublemakers.”

Elena’s heart went cold. Maybe the worst thing was that she could see from a slave economy’s point of view that if one incident of such insolence went unpunished and word of it spread…the tale would grow in the telling….

“We became famous overnight. We’ll be legends tomorrow,” she murmured, watching, in her mind, a domino toppling into another which hit another until a long string had fallen down spelling the word “Heroine.”

But she didn’t want to be a heroine. She had just come here to get Stefan back. And while she could have faced giving her life to stop slaves from being tortured and killed, she would herself kill anyone who tried to lay a hand on Bonnie or Meredith.

“They feel the same way,” Damon said. “They heard what the congregation had to say.” He held her arms hard as if trying to brace her. “A young girl named Helena was beaten and hung this morning because she had a similar name to yours. She was fifteen.”

Elena’s legs gave out, as so often they had done in Damon’s arms…but never for this reason. He went with her. This was a conversation you had sitting on bare floorboards. “It wasn’t your fault, Elena! You are what you are! People love you for what you are!”

Elena’s pulse was hammering frantically. It was all so bad…but she had made it worse. By not thinking. By imagining that her life was the only one at stake. By acting before evaluating the consequences.

But in the same situation she would do it again. Or…with shame, she thought, I would do something like it. If I knew that I would put everyone I loved in danger I would have begged Damon to bargain with that slave-owner worm. Buy her for some outrageous price…if we had the money. If he would have listened…If another stroke of the whip hadn’t killed Lady Ulma…

Suddenly her brain went hard and cold.

That is the past.

This is the present.

Deal with it.

“What can we do?” She tried to pull free and shake Damon; she was that frantic. “There must be something we can do now! They can’t kill Bonnie and Meredith — and Stefan will die if we don’t find him!”

Damon just held her more tightly. He was keeping his mind shielded from hers, Elena realized. This could either be good or bad. It might be that there was a solution he was reluctant to put to her. Or it could mean that the death of all three of the “rebel slaves” was the only thing the city leaders would accept.

“Damon.” He was holding her much too tightly to get free, so Elena couldn’t look him in the face. But she could visualize it, and she could also try to address him squarely, mind to mind.