The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation, Unspoken(57)

“I smell blood,” Damon said, very quietly. “Human blood. Which way does the trail lead?” Elena pointed, and he nodded grimly.

Walking softly, their arms brushing, they followed the bloodred aura. Something was pushing eagerly inside Elena—find her, finish her, eliminate her—but she concentrated on keeping her Powers under control. Don’t attack unless you have to, she told herself. The Guardians wanted Siobhan dead, but Elena needed her alive.

They stepped through an opening in the rock wall, and Elena instinctively flinched backward, grabbing hold of Damon’s arm to steady herself.

Corpses were littered carelessly across the smooth stone floor, tumbled on top of each other like dolls dropped by a bored child, ten or twelve of them, all dead. Closest to Elena’s feet, an elderly woman stared up through empty eyes, her throat torn out.

Surrounded by the bodies stood a tall figure in a long, bloodstained white dress. Black hair flowed around her, twining over her shoulders and down to her waist. Siobhan. In her arms, half-wrapped in Siobhan’s hair, was another victim, Siobhan’s teeth working busily at his throat. Her eyes were closed.

Kill her. Elena started forward, all her strategies forgotten in the need to stop Siobhan, to protect her victim. Dangerous. Evil. Her Guardian Power bubbled up in her chest, ready to attack. Damon’s hand gripped her shoulder, trying to hold her back.

But they were too late. As soon as Elena moved, Siobhan’s eyes shot open, vividly blue, even in the shadowy light of the flashlight. She dropped the man she’d been feeding on, and he landed with a thud on the stone floor of the cave. He was clearly dead.

The heat in Elena’s chest dissipated, leaving an empty ache. There was no one to save here.

Siobhan’s eyes, gleaming with wicked joy, fixed on Elena. Her lips were red and slick with blood. “You…” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I dreamed of you.” Her gaze flickered to Damon. “And a little vampire, too.”

Elena felt Damon stiffen, and she shushed him with a touch on his arm. “We’ve been looking for you, Siobhan,” she said politely. “We came to ask for your help.”

Moving faster than Elena could track, Siobhan was suddenly terribly close. Elena struggled for breath, realizing only after a moment that Siobhan’s hand was tight around her throat. She was so fast.

Damon snarled, and Elena sent him a warning through their bond: Wait. Siobhan wasn’t hurting Elena. Not yet, anyway. And they needed her to listen to them.

Now that she was holding Elena, Siobhan was curiously still. Her eyes searched Elena’s. “You’re very…” she said, sounding puzzled and distant, like a sleepwalker. She looked Elena up and down. “… shiny. Gold. Not quite human. I don’t know what you are.”

Elena concentrated on breathing, slow and shallow. She needed to stay calm. Siobhan’s fingers were strong on her throat, and up close, the old vampire smelled like fresh blood, like death.

She can’t kill you, Elena told herself firmly, and kept her eyes steady on Siobhan’s. Her Guardian instincts squirmed inside her: kill her, kill her now, and Elena firmly restrained herself. She wouldn’t kill Siobhan, not yet. Not while she might be of use to them.

“Jack Daltry,” Damon said, watching them closely. “He’s killing vampires, like you and me. We want to kill him first. Can you help us?”

Siobhan grinned savagely, and Elena recoiled. The vampire’s canines were fully extended, stained with blood. Smiling, any illusion of humanity ripped away from her face. She looked like a monster. “That’s not even his name,” she said. “What chance do you have, knowing nothing? Idiots.”

“Henrik Goetsch, then,” Damon said, and Siobhan’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected them to know Jack’s real name.

“Henrik Goetsch,” she said thoughtfully, rolling the name over her tongue as if she was tasting it. “Yes, I remember Henrik.” Abruptly, she let go of Elena’s throat and strode away, her bare foot stepping on a corpse’s hand as nonchalantly as if it had been a twig. The edge of her long gown dragged through a pool of blood.

Elena sucked in a deep draught of air, her hand on her throat. “What do you remember about him?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

Siobhan swung around to face them. For a moment, she looked stricken, her eyes huge and unhappy, and then she laughed harshly. “He’s not a nice man, little sunshine,” she said.

“What did he do?” Elena asked softly. She smiled hesitantly at Siobhan—you can tell me, we’re just two girls—and the vampire’s eyes narrowed.