07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

Suddenly, a huge shudder—a convulsion—went through Damon’s entire body. Elena
heard broken words behind her.
“Love, love—you really have to let him go. He’s living in—in intolerable pain, just
because you’re keeping him here,” the voice said, and it was Stefan’s. Stefan, who would never lie to
her.
For just an instant Elena wavered, but then a blazing rage came rushing up through her
body. It gave her the strength to cry hoarsely, “I…won’t! I won’t ever let him go! Damn you, Damon,
you have to fight! Let me help you! My blood—it’s special. It’ll give you strength. You drink it!”
She fumbled for her knife. Her blood was magical. Maybe if she gave enough, it would
give Damon the strength to fight off the wooden fibers that were still spreading through his body.
Elena slashed at her throat. Maybe subconsciously she avoided doing more than nicking
her carotid artery, but if so it was entirely subconsciously. She simply reached down, found a metal
knife, and with one sweep set the blood to gushing out. Bright red arterial blood, that even in the
semi-darkness was the color of hope.
“Here, Damon. Here! Drink this. As much as you want—all you need to heal yourself.”
She got into the best position that she could, hearing but not hearing Stefan’s horrified gasp behind her
at the recklessness of her slashing, not heeding his grip on her.
But—Damon didn’t drink. Not even the heady blood of his Princess of Darkness—and
how did the phrase go? It was like rocket fuel compared to the gasoline found in other girls’ veins.
Now it just ran out of the sides of his mouth. It flowed onto his pale face, soaking his black shirt and
pooling in his leather jacket.
No…
Damon, Elena sent, please. I’m—begging you. Please. I’m begging you for me, for
Elena. Please drink. We can do this—together.
Damon didn’t move. Blood spilled into the mouth she’d opened and it filled and spilled
out again. It was as if Damon were taunting her, saying, “You wanted me to give up human blood?
Well, I have—forever.”
Oh, dear God, please…
Elena was dizzier than ever now. Outside events passed dimly around her, like an ocean
that only slightly bobbed a person out deep in the swells. She was entirely focused on Damon.
But one thing she did feel. Her bravery—Damon had been wrong about that. Huge sobs
were rising from somewhere deep inside her. She had made Stefan let go of her and now she couldn’t
hold herself up any longer.
She fell right on top of her blood and Damon’s body. Her cheek fell against his cheek.
And his cheek was cold. Even under the blood, it was cold.
Elena never knew when the hysterics began. She simply found herself shrieking and
sobbing, beating on Damon’s shoulders, cursing him. She had never properly cursed him before, not
directly to his face. As for the shrieking, that wasn’t just a sound. She was once again screaming at
him to find some way to fight.
And finally, she began the promises. Promises that deep in her heart, she now knew were
lies. She was going to find a way to fix him in a moment. She already felt a new Wings power coming
to save him.
Anything so as to not face the truth.
“Damon? Please?” It was an interlude in the shrieking, when she was talking softly in her
new husky, hoarse voice. “Damon, just do one thing for me. Just squeeze my hand. I know you can do