What's At Stake, Part Seven

I dunno, you guys. This one was grueling. Not too thrilled with it, but I wanted to touch on events to date to get Elijah's take on them. Once I get through the next section and up to the daggering, THEN I can have fun without the constraints of what has already happened. Hang in there with me!


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Snap the neck of that one with the right hand while ripping this one's heart out with the left. Whirl around 150 degrees. Tear the spine out. Toss this one against the wall to crush bone and speed over to block that group from escaping through the door. Throw the serving fork to spear the one crouching in the corner before she escapes out the back exit –

"...in Richmond for your book? There's such a wealth of history."

Elijah left off amusing himself with possible ways to liven up this absurd tea party and focused his attention back on Carol Lockwood. "Oh, no, I'm focusing mostly on the smaller regions of Virginia, doing lots of research. It's strictly academic," he answered inanely.

"That's fascinating," she said, stepping into his personal space for the fourth or fifth time during the conversation. He wondered idly just how long she had been widowed; he was rather unaccustomed to being the prey in the equation.

Glancing toward the archway, he saw Damon Salvatore make an entrance, greeted with reserve by Jenna Sommers and with a bit more enthusiasm by a woman who looked vaguely familiar. Shaking her loose, he approached.

"Damon!" Carol stepped away from him and turned toward the other vampire.

"Carol," Damon greeted her back warmly, clasping her outstretched hands.

"What a surprise! Hi! Elijah, I want you to meet Damon Salvatore. His family is one of Mystic Falls' founding families."

"Mm-hm. It's such a pleasure to meet you." Damon said, and extended his hand, wearing much the same look as he had when he was ramming a pole through Elijah’s heart and killing him.

Elijah held the eye contact and gripped Damon’s hand back, perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary. "No, the pleasure's mine."

"Oh, there's Mrs. Atwood. I should introduce you!" Carol went to attach herself to some old woman in a ridiculous hat who had just entered the room.

Damon freed his hand and gestured toward a closed door across the room. "Why don't we slip into the study for a moment."

This should be amusing. Elijah nodded briefly and wove his way through the crowd of women. He preceded Damon into the room, waiting until the latter had closed the door and crossed the room before speaking. "What can I do for you, Damon?"

"I was hoping we could have a word."

"Where is Elena?"

"Safe, with Stefan. They're laying low. You know, we've had a bit of a werewolf problem."

Elijah ran his fingers over the back of the leather sofa. "Oh yeah, I heard about that," he said, playing along. Jonas had filled him in on the previous evening's festivities. Since he very much doubted that the mongrels had taken the advice to 'flea' town, both he and the warlock remained on alert.

"I'm sure you did, since it was your witch who saved the day," Damon sing-songed.

"You are welcome."

Damon perched on the large desk. "Which adds to my confusion. Exactly why are you here?"

He was obnoxious, to be sure, but at least this one thought to ask the pertinent questions. "Why don't you just stay focused on keeping Elena safe, and leave the rest to me." He turned toward the door, only to find it suddenly blocked.

"Not good enough," Damon said, going toe-to-toe with Elijah.

Elijah gave him a hard stare for a moment. The next second, his left hand was wrapped around Damon Salvatore's throat and he had the younger vampire slammed up against the wall. Damon reached his right hand up to grip his neck in response. Elijah peeled it off, crushing the bones in Damon's wrist as though they were made of fragile glass. "You young vampires... so arrogant." He pushed the broken limb down to dangle at Damon's side. "How dare you come in here and challenge me?"

The Salvatore brother, though so clearly overpowered, still glared at him, defiant. "You can't kill me, man. It's not part of the deal," he gritted out.

Unfortunately, that much was true. "Silence," he told him softly. Reaching down with his right hand, Elijah grabbed a wooden pencil from the desk and stabbed it into Damon's larynx, pitching him forward over the desk.

The younger man clawed at it as Elijah whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped blood from his hand. "I'm an Original," he said mildly. "Show a little respect." He held he bloodied cloth out to Damon, who snapped it out of his fingers and held it to his bleeding neck, wisely remaining silent. Or perhaps he just couldn't speak around the wood still embedded in his throat. "The moment you cease to be of use to me, you're dead," Elijah advised him, heading toward the door. "So," he smiled, "you should do as I say. Keep Elena safe."

Elijah exited the office, closing the door behind him to allow time for Damon to heal and to clean himself up enough to be once again seen in public. Jenna and the other woman he'd seen earlier waylaid him between there and the archway. "Elijah, this is Andie Starr," Jenna began. "She's a reporter for the local news station."

So that's why she looked familiar. "Miss Starr," Elijah said, taking the woman's outstretched hand.

"Mr. Smith. It's nice to meet you. I was hoping to do a feature on the book you're writing. Do you have a few moments to talk?" The reporter smiled at him hopefully.

"Oh, well, that's very flattering," he demurred, "but I'm afraid I'm only in the very beginning stages of my research. There's very little to tell, yet. Perhaps another time, when the project draws closer to fruition?"

"Actually, I think people here will be very interested in the whole process, and more than willing to help, if they know how. What types of information are you looking for?"

"Nothing very newsworthy, I'm afraid, Miss Starr. Family histories, property ownership, all very mundane things. It was a pleasure meeting you, though," he said dismissing her with a smile.

The reporter looked slightly disappointed, but acquiesced. "Fair enough. Maybe we can revisit this with an interview when the book comes out." She glanced around the room. "And, I should probably try and find my boyfriend. Did you see which way Damon went, Jenna?"

"Damon Salvatore?" Elijah asked, before Jenna could answer. "I believe I saw him head out toward the gardens a moment ago with some acquaintance of Mayor Lockwood's."

"Oh, good. Perhaps we'll meet again soon," she said, heading toward the french doors that led out to the terrace.

Elijah turned toward Jenna and gave her a charming smile. "I'm glad you're here, Jenna. This has been..." He let his eyes wander the over the flocks of women strewn about the room, grouped more or less by age and by how expensive their outfits and accessories were, and no doubt remarking on how expensive those of the other groups were. He turned back to her. "I'm glad you're here."

She laughed. "Yup. I've seen that look. You've been 'Caroled'."

"She's quite the social..." Terrorist? Nazi? Barracuda? "...Planner, isn't she?"

"You have. No. Idea. Fundraisers, galas, historical reenactments, town celebrations... It's like there's an event every week." Jenna took his arm conspiratorially. "I should get you out of here before she drags you to the portrait room."

"There's a portrait room?"

"Oh yeah. And if you survive that, it will be a full, guided tour of the gardens."

Elijah feigned horror. "Not that!"

"And if you still haven't escaped, it will be an invite for dinner, an assignment to some committee or ten, and then... You, um, didn't tell her you were single, did you?"

Elijah winced and nodded.

Jenna looked around, then leaned in and dropped her voice. "It look's like Mrs. Fell has her cornered for the moment. You wanna make a break for it?"

"And leave you to her mercy? I wouldn't dream of it." He made a show of steeling himself, as though for battle. "At least not without first making my apologies. And not without you agreeing to go have coffee with me afterward," he added.

Jenna surveyed the room again, as though looking for someone. Someone she didn't find. "You know what? That's the best offer I've had all day."


                                                      *************

His self-imposed embargo on ‘distractions’ notwithstanding, coffee with Jenna had extended into dinner, and it was dark by the time he took his leave of her and headed out toward the Salvatore boarding house. According to Jonas, the werewolves did not appear to have departed town, and Elijah rather expected another attempt on the Salvatores. He hoped that Elena was indeed safe with Stefan, wherever they were, and wasn't attacked while they were divided from the others.

Elijah rather thought that he’d prefer to have Elena in Damon’s company, all things considered. Damon was still a very young vampire, but Elijah thought he showed potential. There was evidence of cunning in him, and a calculated ruthlessness to go with it. Couple those things with an acceptance of – if not a delight in – what he was, and Elijah could see Damon as a power player down the road, if only his impulsivity didn’t lead him to do something lethally stupid over the next few centuries.

Then again, he thought ruefully, he’d done his share of rash and ill-conceived things when he was younger; they’d taught him some lessons, albeit the hard way, that he may otherwise not have learned. Perhaps when all this with Klaus was over he would consider employing Damon in some capacity – provided, of course, that the young vampire didn’t drive Elijah to murder him himself between now and then.

Stefan Salvatore, though… Elijah didn’t like that one’s odds, long term. From what he had gathered, the younger Salvatore still clung to the semblance of a normal human life. Not that there was anything wrong with playing the part for others; that was only smart. But he suspected that Stefan was deceiving himself as well, and that particular charade didn’t bode well for his long term survival. There came a time when a vampire either accepted what he was and learned to live within those new parameters, or he was dragged under by the chains that still bound him to a humanity he no longer truly possessed. Elijah feared that Stefan’s time, though not yet quite expired, was drawing perilously close to its end. He would soon have to choose a side, because he would no longer be able to span the gap in between without snapping.

Elijah parked about a quarter of a mile away from the house, off of the road and in a spot where the car would be camouflaged by trees. Walking silently from there toward the boarding house, he heard voices from inside, and the unmistakable clank of chains. He sped the rest of the way down the driveway, quiet as the grave as he stole into the foyer.

“Where's the moonstone?" he heard Jules say, from a room off to the left. It figured. He had half expected the were-bitch to go off script. He only hoped his upcoming demonstration would convince her that she better get back with the program.

“Get over it, honey. You're never going to get it.”

Elijah crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned casually against the door casing, sliding the moonstone from his pocket. “Are you looking for this?” The five werewolves turned and watched as he walked over and placed the moonstone on a table behind the sofa. Damon was chained to a chair in front of the fireplace, with a metal collar around his neck, wooden spikes on the inside jabbing into his neck and sending the occasional rivulet of blood down his throat. He looked almost as nonplused as the werewolves to see him.

Stepping back a couple of paces, Elijah gestured toward the rock. “Go ahead. Take it,” he invited. One of the pack made a dash forward. Elijah was faster. He caught the man and punched into his chest cavity, pulling out his heart, then eased the body down onto the sofa in one smooth motion. Two more broke for the moonstone; he stopped one with each hand, ripping their hearts out as well and earning an approving look from Damon. Elijah locked eyes with Jules, who cut and ran for the door. He would ‘discuss’ this breach of behavior with her later.

The sole remaining werewolf squatted down on the floor and pulled his collar up around his head. Elijah had to pause a moment and marvel at how completely ludicrous it was. “What about you, sweetheart? Hmm?” he asked. Strolling over, he pulled the boy up by his jacket, sliding one hand inside, over the heart. “Want to take a shot? No? Yes? No?” Elijah made a show of looking around the room. “Where’s the girl?”

“I don’t know,” Damon replied, glancing around.

“It doesn’t really matter.” He pulled his hand out of the young werewolf’s jacket, only to draw his fist back and give him a neck-snapping right-cross. He was dead before he hit the floor. Elijah left him in a heap and went to stand in front of Damon.

Admiration warred with suspicion for supremacy over Damon’s expression. Elijah smirked as he bent and broke the chain pinning Damon’s arm to the chair, then took a firm grasp on the loops of chain around the younger vampire’s stomach and snapped those. Stepping back, he shook hair out of his eyes. “You realize this is the third time I've saved your life now,” he reminded him.

Damon wisely remained silent. Elijah recovered the moonstone from the table and left, leaving behind the four dead werewolves for the Salvatores to deal with.

                                                                 *************

Once he reached his car, he took his phone out and dialed Jonas, wondering where the warlock was and, more importantly, whether there were still more out there on Elena’s tail. The call went to voicemail. Frowning, Elijah ended the call and dialed again. Again it rang six times and then went to voicemail.

Pulling out onto the road, he dialed Jules’s number. That too went to voicemail, though he’d been expecting that from her. Once the pre-recorded message finished and he heard the requisite beep, he spoke: “Someone’s been a very bad dog. I suggest you collect the Lockwood boy and remove yourselves from town until your presence is required. Because if you don’t? I will kill you along with any other werewolf I find in Mystic Falls. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

He disconnected and drove over to Jonas’s. The warlock’s car was in the lot, so Elijah ascended the stairs toward the apartment. As he drew near the landing, he heard the sounds of shouting coming from the Martins’ apartment. “… I said I’m sorry! Jesus!”

“You were supposed to be home three hours ago!” Jonas shouted. “Where the hell have you been?!”

“I was at the Grill!”

“With Bonnie Bennett?”

“Yes. No! I don’t know!!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know?!”

Having assured himself that the argument was a father-son squabble and not a more sinister conflict, Elijah turned back down the stairs and left. He could wait and speak with Jonas in the morning.