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I hate this. I should know better than to take a hiatus from writing, even for a few days of dog shows. My brain goes mushy, I lose what little semblance of continuity I have, and my characters punish me by refusing to do what I want them to. Harumph. I am Grumpy and Out Of Sorts, people.
Fanfiction.net link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6910203/12/
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CHAPTER TWELVE
The call from Damon could not possibly have come at a better time. The officer investigating the bombing had been easy enough to compel into believing that the investigation was over and done with, but getting to that particular gentleman had been a veritable obstacle course of peons and red tape, so much so that he had at one point begun to consider the massacre of everyone in the building an actual, viable option. After that experience, he was looking forward with particular relish to the opportunity to “interrogate a hapless subject. Slipping his phone back into his breast pocket as he exited the police station, Elijah unlocked his new vehicle – a Range Rover this time – and headed toward the Salvatore house, where Damon and Marcus were sitting on an unknown vampire that they had dragged home during the wee hours of the morning.
Elijah had spent the first half hour or so after Jenna left berating himself for the mess he'd made of things. Not that he could imagine any scenario in which a woman would prefer to be informed by her paramour of such matters, rather than the turnabout. As if the baptism-by-fire into the world of the supernatural weren’t enough, now Jenna had this all too human situation to contend with. The one, he would do all he could to protect her from. The other… well, the choice of how to handle that would be hers, and hers alone.
And what of the child’s father? Elijah was in no way anxious to see a return of Alaric Saltzman to Mystic Falls
Where did he want to stand?
Question for another time. Elijah shook it off and turned his attention to matters about which he could do something. Such as their little “friends” on campus… He would need to somehow convince Jenna to stay away from there until the professor and whatever cohorts he had could be dealt with. He didn’t believe for a moment that the location of the car bombing was a coincidence, especially when the professor himself had handed Jenna the parking pass for a reserved space. That, coupled with his strange behavior and his digging at Jenna for information, made his involvement highly probable. The question was at whose behest.
And yet… something felt off. Of all the ways for another vampire – another Original – to come at him, a car bomb wouldn’t have made his list of top one hundred guesses. It was too public, too indiscriminate, too unsubtle… and too ineffective. But if Mitchell wasn’t in league with Sebastian or one of the others, why the full court press? Surely Jenna’s scribbled notes regarding the supernatural weren’t enough to draw such a target on her back that a bombing was the de facto solution. Either way, it was time he took a more proactive approach to dealing with the problem. With that in mind, Elijah took his phone out again and began a series of phone calls.
~~~~~
Elijah's last call as he neared the Salvatore house went to Jenna’s number. He was expecting to get her voicemail, so he was more than a little surprised when she answered with her usual, “Hey.”
“Jenna. I wanted to call and check in. How are you?”
“Pregnant.”
“Yes, I… think we covered that earlier.”
“I took a test anyway, just to be sure. Well okay, I took six of them.” He heard her sigh. “Couldn’t you have been wrong, just this once?”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too. I think the donuts and the girl-talk have averted the five-alarm freakout. I’m progressing to the ‘holy shit, what the hell do I do now?’ phase.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless Originals can alter the space-time continuum.”
“Sadly, no.”
“I figured. What are you doing today?”
“Right now I’m headed out to the Salvatores’. You?”
“I’m headed home shortly. Conner has been fighting a nap for the last hour and he’s working himself up to a full-blown tantrum. I’d prefer to spend a little more time in denial before facing the fact that I’m going to have one of those tantrum-throwing things.”
“Do you want me to come by later?”
“Would you be mad if I said no? I want to talk to Elena and Jeremy, let them know about… you know.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“How about later tonight, though? I could drive up to your place. I somehow doubt I’m going to be able to focus on my abstract anyway.”
“About that… I think it would be wise for you to stay away from campus until we have a better handle on all of the factors in play.”
“I don’t think that’s an option.”
“Neither is getting yourself killed. Work from home. The panel will accept your abstract.” He’d seen to that.
“Can we argue about this later?”
“I prefer to think of it as a discussion.”
“Whatever. And Elijah?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t even think about locking me up in your house again.”
God, it was tempting. “How about a vacation somewhere? You could take Jeremy and Elena, go someplace warm…”
“I’m not running. Or hiding. Deal with it.”
“Duly noted.” Elijah signaled and turned into the Salvatore driveway. “I’m here. I’ll see you later, then?”
“Yeah.”
Elijah ended the call and let himself into the house. Damon, Stefan and Marcus were in the library. He didn’t need super-hearing to hear the protests emanating from the cell down in the basement. “Gentlemen.”
Damon rose and went to the bar to pour him a drink. “That was quick.”
“I wasn’t far. So, tell me about your guest. Where did you find him?”
“Actually, he found us. Showed up at the Grill after Caroline left.” Damon shot Marcus a sidelong glance. “He hit on Sophia.”
“It follows. She's a beautiful woman. Was she able to glean any information from him?”
“She might have, if Caveman here hadn’t gone all He-Man on him and invited him to step outside.”
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “He was all over her.”
“He had a hand on her elbow!”
Stefan leaned forward on the couch. “Why don’t we go downstairs and see what he has to say?” he interjected, forestalling further argument between the other two vampires.
Elijah made an ‘after you’ motion, following the Salvatore brothers down the basement steps, Marcus bringing up the rear. As they rounded the corner, the captive directed a string of invective in their general direction, invective that sharpened when he saw Marcus. Damon threw the bolt on the door with a “yeah yeah yeah.” The captive, outnumbered four to one, wisely chose to stand rather than making a break for it.
Saying nothing, Elijah casually slipped his jacket off and hung it on a hook outside the door. Unbuttoning his cuffs, he made a show of rolling up his sleeves. Not until he’d done so did he step forward and address the unknown vampire. “What is your name?” he asked, conversationally.
“What the fuck is it to you?”
Too fast for the other vampires to see, Elijah shot his foot out, shattering the man’s left knee and bending his leg backward to about a 45-degree angle. The vampire let out a loud shriek and sank down onto his good knee, fighting to stay upright even that much. Elijah examined his fingernails, then asked, in the same tone of voice as before, “Your name?”
“Geoffrey Landan,” he spat out.
“See, that wasn’t so difficult. Do you know who I am, Geoffrey?”
“Should I?”
With a roll of his eyes, Elijah wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him up so they were eye to eye. "Perhaps I should explain how this works. I ask you questions, and you answer them. Without editorializing. Now, I'll ask you again: do you know who I am?"
The vampire eyed him contemptuously, but resisted the urge to smart off. "No."
"Why are you here?"
“Because these assholes grabbed me and threw me in here!” he answered, glaring at Damon and Marcus in turn.
"Why are you here in town?"
"I was just passing through. Jesus, is that a crime?"
Elijah gave him a small, cold smile and patted his cheek as he released the vampire's neck and set him on his good leg – only to kick it out from under him. "I believe I warned you about editorializing." Crouching down, Elijah balanced on the balls of his feet to put them at an even height, and tried to catch his eyes. As he exerted his will, he could feel the younger vampire resisting him, setting off a mental tug of war between them. Not vervain; the vampire's mind would have slid harmlessly away from his if he were dosed with the herb. More likely he had been previously compelled to avoid further compulsion, or to resist Elijah specifically. Landan kept his gaze on Elijah's though, giving him a strange smile. He shifted his lower jaw to the side, grinding his teeth together.
A bright light flared from the vampire's mouth as it dropped open, giving his face a strange, eerie, lit-from-within effect and drawing a startled yelp from Marcus. A split second later, flames poured out of his mouth, nose, eyes and ears as his head was consumed in a flash inferno. Elijah shot backward, away from the intense heat, as the chest split open. Fire flowed like magma down over Landan’s ribs, igniting clothing and flesh as the flames fed greedily on the vampire’s corpse. Hungry fingers of it reached out, seeking other materials it could use as fuel. The rock floor and walls offered it nothing, but it made a couple of leaping grabs for the wooden beams overhead.
Damon zipped around the corner and back in with a fire extinguisher. Pulling the pin, he aimed and sprayed a layer of foam over what was left of the body, adding a chemical smell to the aroma of charred flesh. Suffocated, the fire quickly sputtered and died out. Damon remained poised with the extinguisher, watching for secondary flare-ups, but none sprang up, and he gradually relaxed his stance.
Once assured that the fire was indeed out, Stefan and Marcus crept closer to the body, peering at it with twin expressions of confusion. Marcus cleared his throat. “I think I speak for all of us when I say: What the fuck just happened?”
Elijah sauntered closer, making a slow circle around the corpse as he studied it. Globs of foam oozed off of the charred remains, taking with it blackened flakes of clothing and flesh. Little remained of the vampire’s head; the skin and hair had burned away completely, while the skull had split from the sudden heat and its accompanying pressure, leaving the lower jaw swinging loose from one half as he stooped and picked up the two pieces. He pulled the lower jawbone away from the upper and studied it, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Tossing it down next to the body, he flipped the pieces of the upper jaw over, squinting at the nubs of bone that had been teeth.
There. On the left hand side, one of the back molars had been hollowed out. If he looked closely, Elijah could see blackened, molten fragments of what had at some point been some sort of capsule. He would have to have it examined to find out what it had held that could have caused the vampire to combust so quickly, but whatever the material used, one thing was clear – whoever had placed it there had gone to great pains to ensure that this particular minion would not talk if captured.
Elijah tossed the irrelevant half of the skull away and held up the part with the hollowed-out molar for them to see. “Suicide capsule.”
“Capsule of what?” Damon asked, giving it that wild-eyed look of his.
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Vervain wouldn’t do that,” Stefan pointed out.
“No,” Elijah agreed. “Some chemical that ignites when exposed to oxygen, perhaps…?”
Marcus stepped forward. “Whatever it was, that light it gave off at the beginning was ultraviolet. I felt it burn when it hit my skin.”
“Whereas we all have sun rings so it wouldn’t have affected us,” Damon finished the thought.
Elijah lifted his brows as he examined the upper jaw again, nodding in appreciation. “How perfectly elegant,” he said, impressed. He would most definitely have to have someone analyze the compound used.
“Elegant?” Stefan sputtered.
“Ultraviolet radiation to guarantee a rapid death and consumption. Like a tiny sun, devouring him from the inside,” he breathed. “It’s almost… poetic.” And terribly, terribly clever. Oh, he wanted some!
“You want some alone time with that?” Damon snarked, going across the hall and coming back with a large plastic tarp. “A little help, here,” he added, shooting a look at Marcus and Stefan.
One corner of Elijah’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “No, but I’ll be taking this with me. I have people who can analyze what was used.”
And hopefully duplicate it.
~~~~~
Dusk was just falling by the time Elijah and Damon returned from disposing of the body. Elijah had secured his ‘prize’ at home, where it would await pick-up. Stefan and Marcus had cleaned the room in the basement while they were out, and were settled in the great room, in front of the fireplace. Damon broke out a new bottle of whiskey and passed four tumblers around.
Marcus accepted it and pulled out his cell phone to check it, huffing out a sigh and tossing it onto the coffee table when it showed no messages. Downing the whiskey, he rose and refilled the glass, this time to the brim, before settling back onto the sofa. Elijah lifted a brow in inquiry and tried to catch his eye, but Marcus was apparently settling himself in for a good long sulk.
“Sophia told him off and left him high and dry at the Grill last night, after the attack of the green-eyed monster,” Damon offered, by way of explanation. “Speaking of women,” he continued, turning toward his brother, “where’s little miss Elena tonight? Isn’t Saturday ‘date night?’”
“Jenna asked her to stay home this evening.”
“Cock-blocked by her aunt,” Damon drawled. “Guess it’s just you and the five pointer sisters tonight.”
Stefan raised his glass to him in a mock salute. “I’m sure you know them well.”
Damon settled into the wingback chair and put his feet on the ottoman. “So I’m guessing we have this Sebastian guy to thank for our fiery friend?” he asked Elijah.
Elijah had been considering that. “I don’t think so.” Like the car bombing, it didn’t strike him as a move Sebastian would make. Whereas the bombing was too loud and showy, this level of sophistication and elegance argued for a cooler and more subtle head than Sebastian’s. “I would say Edmund, if I were to guess.”
That pulled Marcus out of his reverie for a moment. “I thought you and he got along?”
“We do – to a point,” Elijah said, sipping his drink.
“I’m guessing not so much, now that you’ve killed his lackey,” Damon put in.
Elijah shrugged. “Happens.” His phone buzzed; Sophia, according to the caller ID. He pushed the button to answer it. “Sophia.”
Marcus sat bolt upright, looking at him expectantly.
“I think I may have a lead on where your professor and his little plaything will be this evening,” Sophia told him. He could hear lots of background noise, as though she were at a party, or in a rather raucous bar. “It sounds like they’re going to a meeting of sorts. Shall I follow up?”
“Please.”
Where is she? Marcus mouthed at him, sotto voce.
“Marcus is here, Sophia. He’d like to speak with you.”
“And I would like him to grow up and stop acting like a 203 year-old imbecile, but we don’t all get what we want, do we?” No need to repeat for Marcus’s benefit; they could all hear both sides of the conversation perfectly well. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Elijah.” Sophia disconnected the call.
“Oooh, burn,” Damon muttered into his drink.
Marcus shot off of the couch and went back to the bar for another refill. “You know, there was a time when women knew their place and did as they were told,” he spat as he seated himself again.
Elijah snorted. He was absolutely certain no such time had ever existed, and he had lived through many different times. “Sophia is perfectly capable of handling herself with respect to the opposite sex. In fact, as I recall, she was handling herself eighty years before you were born.” Sophia’s calm and self-possession were two of the qualities that had made her stand out from amongst her peers at the expensive and highly exclusive French pleasure-house where Elijah had found her. Two qualities that had eventually led him to turn her.
“Chill, Romeo,” Damon told him. “And show some respect: that’s good whiskey, not a ‘whine’ cooler. How long have you been with this chick, anyway?”
“A hundred and eighty years. Since she turned me.”
Damon let out a low whistle. “No wonder. Wait, you’re not saying you’ve been monogamous this whole time, right?”
“Yes, we have.” His expression turned dark. “Or at least I have.”
“I don’t understand; if you’ve been together for so long, why would you worry about some jerk in a bar?” Stefan asked.
Marcus looked like he was about to bolt his drink, but after a sidelong glance at Damon, he took a discreet sip instead. “I think I’m losing her,” he admitted morosely.
“A hundred and eighty years is a pretty good run. Don’t you think it’s time?” Damon asked.
“No, I don’t think it’s time! I turned so I could be with her forever. If it’s not forever, what was the point?”
Elijah stood, straightening his jacket as he did so, and fishing his keys out of his pocket. “’Forever,’ when applied to love, is a concept meaningful only to those for whom there is zero possibility of it. The rest of us would do well to simply appreciate what we have, while we have it.” Seeing himself out, he planned to go and do just that.
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