The Vampire Diaries: The Return: Shadow Souls Read Free Page A

clues, and they went like this: The first half is ‘in the silver nightingale’s instrument.’ And the second half is ‘buried in Bloddeuwedd’s ballroom.’
    “I need to see if Damon has any ideas about these. Because it sounds as if once we get to the Dark Dimension we’re going to have to infiltrate some people’s houses and other places. To search a ballroom, it’s best to somehow get invited to the ball, right? That sounds like ‘easier said than done,’ but whatever it takes, I’ll do. It’s simple as that.”
    Elena lifted her head in determination and went still, then said in a whisper, “Would you believe it? I looked up just now and I can see the palest streaks of dawn in the sky: light green and creamy orange and the faintest aqua…. I’ve talked all through the darkness. It’s so peaceful now. Just now the sun peeked up o—
    “What the hell was that? Something just went BANG on the top of the Jag. Really, really loud.”
    Elena clicked off the recorder on her mobile. She was scared, but a noise like that—and now scrabbling sounds on the roof…
    She had to get out of the car as fast as possible.

2
    E lena burst out of the backseat of the Jaguar and ran a little way from the car before turning to see what had fallen on top of it.
    What had fallen was Matt. He was in the process of struggling to get up off his back.
    “Matt—oh, my God! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Elena cried at the same time as Matt was shouting in tones of anguish:
    “Elena—oh, my God! Is the Jag all right? Is it hurt?”
    “Matt, are you crazy ? Did you hit your head?”
    “Are there any scratches? Does the moonroof still work?”
    “No scratches. The moonroof is fine.” Elena had no idea if the moonroof worked, but she realized that Matt was raving, off his head. He was trying to get down without getting any mud on the Jag, but he was handicapped since his legs and feet were covered with mud. Getting off of the car without using his feet was proving difficult.
    Meanwhile, Elena was looking around. She herself had once fallen from the sky, yes, but she had been dead for six months first and had arrived naked, and Matt fulfilled neither requirement. She had a more prosaic explanation in mind.
    And there it was, lounging against a yellowwood tree and eyeing the scene with a very slight, wicked smile.
    Damon.
    He was compact; not as tall as Stefan, but with an indefinable aura of menace that more than made up for it. He was as immaculately dressed as always: black Armani jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket, and black boots, which all went with his carelessly windblown dark hair and his black eyes.
    Right now, he made Elena acutely aware that she was wearing a long white nightgown that she had brought with the idea that she could change her clothes underneath it if necessary while they were camping. The problem was that she usually did this just at dawn, and today writing in her diary had distracted her. And all at once the nightgown wasn’t the correct attire for an early-morning fight with Damon. It wasn’t sheer, being more akin to flannel than to nylon, but it was lacy, especially around the neck. Lace around a pretty neck to a vampire—as Damon had told her—was like a waving red cloak in front of a raging bull.
    Elena crossed her arms over her chest. She also tried to make sure that her aura was pulled in decorously.
    “You look like Wendy,” Damon said, and his smile was wicked, flashing, and definitely appreciative. He cocked his head to the side coaxingly.
    Elena refused to be coaxed. “Wendy who?” she said, and at just that moment remembered the last name of the young girl in Peter Pan , and winced inwardly. Elena had always been good at repartee of this kind. The problem was that Damon was better.
    “Why, Wendy… Darling ,” Damon said, and his voice was a caress.
    Elena felt an inward shiver. Damon had promised not to Influence her—to use his telepathic powers to cloud or manipulate