Midnight

She has been pampered too much already! ( But what harm can it do to try again? ) All right! If you must know, Susurre has already forced us to try. And nothing came of it!

Damon…is…gone! His spirit was nowhere to be found in the ether! That is what happens to vampires, and everyone knows it!

Elena found herself looking down at her own hands, which were very clean but with broken nails and every knuckle bleeding. The outside world had become unreal again. She was inside herself, struggling with her grief, struggling with the knowledge that Idola, the central ruler of Guardians, hadn’t even mentioned before that they had looked for Damon’s spirit. And that it was…gone.

Suddenly, the room was pressing in on her. There wasn’t enough air. There were only these women: these powerful, magical Guardian women; who Stilldid not have enough power or magic to save Damon – or at least didn’t even care enough to try twice.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to her. Her throat felt puffed out, her chest was both huge and tight. Each heartbeat sounded through her as if trying to shake her to death.

To death. In her mind’s eye, she saw a hand hold up a glass of Clarion Loess Black Magic.

And then, Elena knew that she had to stand a certain way, and hold her arms a certain way, and whisper certain words in her own mind. But the last, the naming of the spel , had only to be said aloud at the end.

At the end – when things slowed. When green-eyed Idola –

what a perfect name for someone who idolized herself, Elena thought – and fair businesslike Ryannen and nurturing Susurre – al stared at her with open mouths, too shocked to move even a finger as, quietly and calmly, Elena said,

"Wings of Destruction – "

It was a soldier, just an ordinary one of the rank and file, one of the dark women, who stopped it. She leaped up onto the dais, and, with inhuman speed, slapped her hand over Elena’s mouth, so that the final syl able was a mumble, and the golden, green, and blue hal did not explode into fragments with hot metal running in rivulets like lava, and the flower-fountain did not vaporize, and the stained-glass windows didn’t shatter into atoms.

Then there were more arms around Elena, holding her down, scarcely letting her breathe, even when she went limp for lack of air. Elena fought like an animal, with her teeth and nails, to escape. But she eventual y was completely restrained, pinned to the floor. She could hear Sage’s deep voice raging and Stefan, in between desperate telepathic bursts to her, pleading and explaining, "She’s Stillnot in reality! She doesn’t even know what she’s doing!"

But louder, she could hear the voices of the Guardians. "She would have kil ed us al !""Those Wings – I’ve never seen anything so deadly!""A human! And with just three words, she could have wiped us out!""If Lenea hadn’t tackled her – ""Or if she had been another few feet away – ""She destroyed a moon, you know! No life on it at allnow, and ashes Stillfal ing from the sky!""That isn’t the point. The point is that she shouldn’t have Wings powers at all. She’s got to be clipped of them.""That’s right – clip her Wings! Do it! "

Elena recognized Ryannen’s and Idola’s voices at the end there. She was Stilltrying to fight, but they held her so tightly and piled on her so ruthlessly that it had become a fight simply to get air and al she did was exhaust herself.

And then they clipped her Wings. It was quick, at least, and Elena felt very little. What hurt most was her heart. Some proud, stubborn streak had been brought out with the fighting, and now she was ashamed to feel each pair cut off.

First went Wings of Redemption, those great rainbow-hued arches. Then Wings of Purification, white and iridescent as frosted cobwebs. Wings of the Wind, like honey-colored thistledown. Wings of Remembrance, soft violet and midnight blue. And then Wings of Protection – emerald green and gold, the Wings that had saved her friends from Bloddeuwedd’s frenzied attack on them the first time they had entered the Dark Dimensions.

And, final y, Wings of Destruction – high, ebony arches with edges as delicate as black lace.

Elena tried to keep silent as each power was taken. But after the first one or two had fal en at her sides, in shadows that perhaps only she could see, she heard a smal gasp, and realized that it was her own voice. And with the next cut, an involuntary little cry.

For a moment there was silence. And then suddenly there was overwhelming noise. Elena could hear Bonnie keening and Sage roaring, and Stefan, gentle Stefan, shouting blasphemies and curses at the Guardians. Elena guessed from the stifled sound of his voice that he was fighting them, fighting to get to her.

He reached her, somehow, just as the deadly, delicate Wings of Destruction were sheared from her shoulders and mind, and fel like tal shadows to the ground. It was good that he did reach her then, because at last, when Elena was the least dangerous she had been since the Powers of Wings had begun awakening in her, suddenly the Guardians seemed afraid. They stepped back from her, these strong and dangerous women, and only Stefan was there to catch her and hold her in his arms.

Stunned, dazed, she was an eighteen-year-old girl who was ordinary. Except for her blood. They wanted to rob her of her blood as well…to "purify"it. The three rulers and their attendants had already gathered in a determined, multihued triangle around her and were working their magic when Sage bel owed, "Stop!"

Elena, drooping over Stefan’s shoulder, could see him vaguely, his velvety black wings Stillspread from wal to wal , Stilltouching the golden ceiling. Bonnie clung to him like a bit of stray dandelion fluff. "You have already diminished her aura to almost nothing,"he growled. "If you ‘purify’the blood of this pauvre petite completely, she wil die – and then she wil awaken. You wil have created un vampire, Mesdames. Is that what you wish?"