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10<br />
Damon was making his way up the beautiful rose-covered trellis below the window of the<br />
bedchamber of M. le Princess Jessalyn D’Aubigne, a very wealthy, beautiful, and much-admired girl<br />
who had the bluest blood of any vampire in the Dark Dimension, according to the books he’d bought.<br />
In fact, he’d listened to the locals and it was rumored that Sage himself had changed her two years<br />
ago, and had given her this bijoux castle to live in. Delicate gem that it appeared, though, the little<br />
castle had already presented Damon with several problems. <strong>The</strong>re had been that razor-wire fence, on<br />
which he ripped his leather jacket; an unusually dexterous and stubborn guard whom it had really<br />
been a pity to strangle; an inner moat that had almost taken him unawares; and a few dogs that he had<br />
treated with the Saber-tranquilizer routine—using Mrs. Flowers’s sleeping powder, which he’d<br />
brought with him from Earth. It would have been easier to poison them, but Jessalyn was reputed to<br />
have a very soft heart for animals and he needed her for at least three days. That should be long<br />
enough to make him a vampire—if they did nothing else during those days.<br />
Now, as he pulled himself silently up the trellis, he mentally added long rose thorns to<br />
the list of inconveniences. He also rehearsed his first speech to Jessalyn. She had been—was—<br />
would forever be—eighteen. But it was a young eighteen, since she had only two years’ experience at<br />
being a vampire. He comforted himself with this as he climbed silently into a window.<br />
Still silently, moving slowly in case the princess had guardian animals in her<br />
bedchamber, Damon parted layer after layer of filmy, translucent black curtains that kept the bloodred<br />
light of the sun from shining into the chamber. His boots sank into the thick pile of a black rug.<br />
Making it out of the enfolding curtains, Damon saw that the entire chamber was decorated in a simple<br />
theme by a master of contrast. Jet-black and off-black.<br />
He liked it a lot.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re was an enormous bed with more billowing filmy black curtains almost encasing it.<br />
<strong>The</strong> only way to approach it was from the foot, where the diaphanous curtains were thinner.<br />
Standing there in the cathedral-like silence of the great chamber, Damon looked at the<br />
slight figure under the black silk sheets, among dozens of small throw pillows.<br />
She was a jewel like the castle. Delicate bones. A look of utter innocence as she slept.<br />
An ethereal river of fine, scarlet hair spilling about her. He could see individual hairs straying on the<br />
black sheets. She looked a little like Bonnie.<br />
Damon was pleased.<br />
He pulled out the same knife he had put to Elena’s throat, and just for a moment hesitated<br />
—but no, this was no time to be thinking of Elena’s golden warmth. Everything depended on this