The Hunters: Destiny Rising
Elena's shoulder banged against something hard, and she made a small sound of protest. All she wanted to do was sleep, but someone wouldn't let her rest. Her legs hurt.
Her head jolted against something, and Elena's perspective shifted. Someone was pulling her along by her legs, she realized, the rest of her body sliding along on the ground. Her hair caught, jerking her head before it came loose, and she groaned again. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
"Back with me, little one?" Klaus said, sounding disconcertingly jovial. He was the one dragging her, Elena realized, and although it was dark, he clearly had sensed when she awoke. He laughed, his dark, disturbing chuckle making her cringe. "I can't kill you with my teeth, or with my dagger, but an ordinary knife will work, won't it? I could tie you up and drop you in the lake to drown. What do you think?"
Elena's mouth was dry, and it took a couple of tries to get any sound out. "I think," she said at last, thickly, "that Stefan is going to save me."
Klaus laughed again. "Your precious Stefan won't be able to find you," he said. "No one can save you now."
They hadn't been to the safe house since they had left with Chloe, the night of Klaus's resurrection. When they arrived, the faint scent of vervain still lingered in the basement, and Stefan's skin itched in reaction. Meredith pried up a trapdoor in the floor, and Stefan lowered himself in first, the others following.
Everyone but Matt had come, weapons in hand, carrying flashlights and lanterns, tense and ready to fight. Matt had stayed behind to search for Chloe. Bonnie, Alaric, and Meredith stuck close together, their faces pale and strained. Shay, Zander, and the other werewolves stayed together, too, alert to every noise or scent in the darkness. And Damon, Stefan, and Andres formed the vanguard, each one of them straining for some sign of Elena.
They seemed to walk for miles, through underground passages that narrowed as they went, changing from concrete passages to dusty tunnels carved from dirt. Andres stopped frequently and touched the floor and walls, listening with his hands before picking a direction.
"Did you come this way when you smoked the tunnels?" Stefan asked Meredith as they waited impatiently during one of these stops, and she shook her head, wide-eyed.
"We're a lot deeper underground than I knew the tunnels went," she said. "I had no idea the Vitale Society had anything this elaborate."
"I wonder if it was the Vitale Society, actually," Bonnie interjected suddenly. "They used these tunnels, but I keep getting a sense that there's something older here. Something creepy."
Silently, Alaric raised his flashlight higher, illuminating a series of runes carved deep into the rock above them. "I can't read them," he said, "but these must predate Dalcrest by centuries."
The steady thump of Klaus's footsteps stopped, but Elena was still sliding forward. With a shock, she realized that he was pulling her to him and she flailed desperately, trying to jerk herself away.
She was so tired, though. She'd used more of her Power than she ever had before, and she felt drained and helpless. Elena could do no more than struggle weakly as Klaus picked her up, gathering her in his arms as gently as if she was a baby.
"No," she whispered hoarsely.
She felt Klaus's hand stroking her hair back, and she shuddered with repulsion at the gentle touch in the dark. She struggled weakly, but his Power was holding her in place.
"I could have let the fire kill you," he whispered, his voice intimate and almost tender, "but what's poetic in that? My bite may not hurt you, but I want a taste of the girl that fascinates vampires so much. I've never tasted a Guardian before. Is your blood especially sweet?"
He pressed his mouth against her neck and Elena cringed. She couldn't fight anymore. His fangs pushed into her, rough and demanding, and it felt as if her throat was being split open. She tried to scream, but only a whimper came out.
He can't kill me this way, she reminded herself desperately. And yet it felt as if her life was draining away.
Andres was standing perfectly still, one hand pressed against the rock.
"What is it?" Stefan said sharply.
Andres opened his eyes. His face was desolate. "I've lost her," he said. "She was so close but now . . . she's not touching the Earth anymore. I don't know where she is."
Just ahead of them, Klaus raised his head, blood streaming from his mouth and dripping down his chin. In his arms, Elena lay limply, her silken, golden hair tangled and dirty, hanging down over Klaus's arm. Stefan snarled and rushed forward.
Klaus licked at his lips, his pink tongue slow, and then he shuddered, a smile on his face. Slowly, still smiling, he collapsed to the ground, Elena landing with a thud in front of him. Stefan's heart plummeted even as he leaped toward her. Elena lay in the center of the path. She was motionless and very pale, her head turned to one side, eyes closed.
Blood was everywhere, staining her once-white top a deep, rich red. Her throat was covered with gore.
And beyond her, as limp as a discarded toy, lay Klaus. Although there was no mark on him other than a thin streak of blood at the corner of his mouth, Stefan had no doubt that he was dead. No one living looked like that, as if everything that had been part of him was gone, leaving a wax dummy in his place. Especially not the lightning-handler Klaus, who had shimmered with golden, filthy rage. He looked like a badly preserved corpse.
Elena, though . . .
To Stefan's wonder, Elena stirred, her eyelashes fluttering.
Stefan gathered her into his arms. She was so pale, but her heartbeat was steady. Above him, Damon hovered, his mouth twisted with anxiety.
"She'll live," Damon muttered, partly to himself, partly to Stefan.
Stefan opened his mouth to agree, but all that came out was a broken sob. He began to kiss Elena, peppering her cheeks and mouth and forehead and hands with light kisses.
"Stefan," she murmured weakly, and smiled. "My Stefan."
"What happened?" Bonnie asked as the others rounded the bend and ran forward. Only Andres stood still just past the bend in the tunnel, staring at Elena, his face full of wonder.
"The One what?" Elena asked, still smiling dazedly. She raised her hand and stroked Stefan's cheek.
Andres seemed to be having trouble speaking. He swallowed, licked his lips, and swallowed again, looking a little lost. "There's a legend," he said finally, hesitantly. "A Guardian legend. It says that one day a sworn Guardian, one born of a Principal Guardian, will come to Earth. Her blood, the blood of Guardians carried through generations, will be anathema to the Oldest creatures of darkness."
"What does that mean?" Stefan asked sharply.
Andres lifted his flashlight, lighting up Klaus's pathetic, diminished corpse. "It means," he said, his voice full of wonder, "that Elena's blood has killed Klaus. It would kill any of the Old Ones, the handful of vampires and demons that have walked the Earth since the dawn of human civilization . . . maybe before. It means," he said, "that Elena is a very valuable weapon."
"Hang on," Damon said. "That can't be right. I've drunk Elena's blood. Stefan's drunk Elena's blood."
Andres shrugged. "Perhaps its qualities are only fatal to the Old Ones. That's all the legend tells of."
"And her blood is special," Stefan said, his voice rough. He and Damon exchanged quick, embarrassed glances. Elena's blood was rich and heady, countless times more potent than any other blood Stefan had ever tasted. He had thought the difference was because of the love they shared.
"But . . ." Bonnie said, frowning. "Your parents weren't Guardians, were they?" she asked Elena. Elena shook her head, but her eyes were clouding over and her eyelids drooping. She needed rest, and proper medical care.
"We can talk about this later," Stefan said abruptly, and stood, lifting Elena carefully and gently into his arms. "She needs to get out of here."
"Well, whether she's the One or not," Meredith said, looking at the dead monster at her feet, "Elena killed Klaus." They all straightened unconsciously, smiling. They had nothing left to fear.