07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

What astonished him—even though he positioned himself precisely in case of it—was to
see Damon’s hand flash up as quick as a cobra’s strike. There was no follow-through, but Stefan had
already picked Elena up bodily and pulled her back out of range.
“Let go!” Elena cried, struggling to get out of Stefan’s arms, or at least get her feet on the
ground. “I’m going to kill him!”
The next astonishing thing—discontinuing the raw fury that Stefan could feel coursing
through Elena’s aura—was that Elena was actually winning the struggle, despite the fact that he was
orders of magnitude stronger than she was. Part of it had to do with the towel, which was threatening
to drop at any moment. The other part was that Elena had acquired a unique style of fighting stronger
opponents—at least those with any conscience. She deliberately threw herself against any point at
which it would hurt her to restrain her, and she didn’t give up. Eventually he was going to have to
choose between injuring her and letting her go.
At that moment, however, Elena stopped moving. She froze, head turned as she looked
behind him.
Stefan glanced backward too, and felt an electrical shock shoot through him.
Bonnie was standing directly behind them, looking at Damon, her lips parted in anguish,
tears in her wide brown eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
Instantly, even before he could register Elena’s pleading glance, Stefan released her. He
understood: Her mood and the dynamics of this situation had just been turned upside down.
Elena adjusted her towel and turned to Bonnie, but by then Bonnie was running away
down the corridor. Elena’s longer strides allowed her to reach Bonnie in a moment and she caught the
smaller girl and held her, not so much by force as by sisterly magnetism. “Don’t worry about that
snake,” Elena’s voice came back to them clearly, as it was obviously meant to. “He’s a—” And here
Elena indulged in some very creative cursing.
Stefan could hear all of it distinctly and noticed that it broke off into tiny hushing sounds
just as Elena turned into the door of the bathing salon.
Stefan glanced sideways at Damon. He didn’t mind fighting his brother in the least right
now; he was full of rage himself on behalf of Bonnie. But Damon ignored him as if he were part of the
wallpaper, staring at nothing with an expression of icy fury.
At that moment Stefan heard a faint sound from the farthest end of the corridor, which
was quite a distance away. But his vampire senses informed him that surely the person in front was a
woman of consequence, probably their hostess. He stepped forward so that at least she could be
greeted by someone who was wearing clothing.
However, at the last moment, Elena and Bonnie appeared in front of him, clad in dresses
—gowns, rather—that were both casual and works of genius. Elena’s was an informal robe of deep
lapis blue, with her hair drying into a soft golden mass around her shoulders. Bonnie was wearing
something shorter and lighter: pale violet, shot with threads of silver in no particular pattern. Both
outfits, Stefan grasped suddenly, would look as good in the interminable sunlight as in a closed room
with no windows and gas lamps.
He remembered the stories Elena had told about Lady Ulma designing gowns for her, and
he realized that whatever else his hostess might be, she was truly a genius couturier.
And then Elena was running, dainty gold sandals flying, and Bonnie’s silver slippers
were following and Stefan began to run too, fearing some unknown danger. They all arrived at the far
end of the hallway at the same time, and Stefan saw that the woman standing there was dressed even
more splendidly than the girls. She was wearing a deep red raw silk gown with a heavy diamond-