The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unmasked Read online

  BOOKS IN THE VAMPIRE DIARIES SERIES

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  VOL. I: THE AWAKENING

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  VOL. II: THE STRUGGLE

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  VOL. III: THE FURY

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  VOL. IV: DARK REUNION

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE RETURN VOL. 1: NIGHTFALL

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE RETURN VOL. 2: SHADOW SOULS

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE RETURN VOL. 3: MIDNIGHT

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE HUNTERS VOL. 1: PHANTOM

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE HUNTERS VOL. 2: MOONSONG

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE HUNTERS VOL. 3: DESTINY RISING

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE SALVATION VOL. 1: UNSEEN

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  THE SALVATION VOL. 2: UNSPOKEN

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 1: ORIGINS

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 2: BLOODLUST

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 3: THE CRAVING

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 4: THE RIPPER

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 5: THE ASYLUM

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES:

  STEFAN’S DIARIES VOL. 6: THE COMPELLED

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The Vampire Diaries: The Salvation: Unmasked © 2014 by L.J. Smith

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Alloy Entertainment. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), write to [email protected].

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Produced by Alloy Entertainment

  1700 Broadway

  New York, NY 10019

  www.alloyentertainment.com

  Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2013958185

  First edition May 2014

  Published by 47North, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  ISBN 10: 1477823352

  ISBN 13: 9781477823354

  Cover design by Liz Dresner

  Contents

  A Note About the Hashtags in This Book

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  About the Author

  A Note About the Hashtags in This Book

  Elena’s diary may be private, but this book doesn’t have to be.

  Everyone’s talking about the biggest shockers, twists, and swoon-worthy moments.

  Look for the hashtags throughout this book and share your own reactions on Twitter. To connect with other readers right now, tag your tweets with #TVD13.

  “I’m going to plant the herb garden right there,” Bonnie told Zander, gazing out across their new yard. Green grass spread out in front of her, running right to the edge of a winding country road. There was a little space, half in sun and half in shade, that would be perfect for growing herbs for her spells and charms. Beyond the road rose white-topped mountains—real mountains, much higher than the rolling hills of Virginia.

  Behind her, Zander wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his chin against her shoulder. Bonnie leaned back comfortably against his warm bulk. Taking a deep, satisfied breath of the crisp Colorado air, she told him, “It’s absolutely gorgeous here.”

  They’d only been here for a few days, and each morning when Bonnie opened her eyes, she was startled by her own happiness. She’d moved here because she couldn’t bear to lose Zander, but she had never considered that she might actually like it.

  Even on the plane flying here, she’d had an anxious pit in her stomach. Bonnie had never lived so far away from her family before, never spent more than a few months some place where she couldn’t drive to her mom or one of her sisters if she needed them. And she’d always had her other sisters, the ones she’d chosen, Elena and Meredith, by her side.

  Bonnie had felt like a traitor leaving Elena and Meredith. They’d assured her that they understood and reminded her she was only a phone call away. But that didn’t relieve Bonnie’s guilt. Stefan, Elena’s true love, had died. Meredith had been turned into a vampire. Surely it was wrong for Bonnie to abandon them, especially now.

  But being here felt right. The Colorado sky stretched bright and blue overhead, so clear and deep that Bonnie almost thought she could hold her arms above her head and fly straight up into its limitless space.

  There was something about that endless sky, something about the open country and nature all around her that made Bonnie feel like she was bursting with Power.

  “I’m getting stronger every day,” she said, twining her fingers with Zander’s and pulling his arms tighter around her.

  “Mmhmm,” Zander agreed, kissing her neck softly. “This place is really alive. Jared told me he ran for miles last night in the mountains as a wolf, and there was nothing to avoid, no cars or towns in his way. Pretty cool.”

  He tugged her around by the hand, and Bonnie followed him into the house. Our house. How awesome is that? she thought. She’d liked their old apartments, she guessed, but this little white ranch house had no neighbors to complain about noise, no landlord laying down rules. It was theirs.

  “We can do anything we want here,” she told Zander.

  He grinned down at her with his slow, devastating smile. “And what is it that you want to do, Miss Bonnie?”

  Bonnie’s face widened in a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas,” she said lightly, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, her eyes fluttering closed.

  The same familiar zing that Zander’s kisses always gave her was there, but with something extra: They were married now. Till death do us part. He was hers.

  She opened her eyes and looked up into Zander’s warm, ocean-blue ones. A thrill of happiness shot through her. Channeling a shred of Zander’s energy into herself, Bonnie concentrated for a moment. Joy shot through her as she felt the essence of her sweet, cheerful husband. In the fireplace, violet and green sparks flew, filling the space with light and color.

  “Beautiful,” Zander said. “Like tiny fireworks.”

  Bonnie was about to say something cheesy but honest, something like, That’s how I feel with you all the time—fireworks. But before she could, her phone rang.

  Meredith. Her friend no doubt wanted to know how the honeymoon had been and what Colorado was like. Bonnie answered, still smiling, “Hey! What’s up?”

  There was a pause. Then, Meredith’s voice, thin and ragged. “Bonnie?”

  “Meredith?” Bonnie stiffened. Her friend sounded b
roken.

  “It’s Elena,” Meredith said, almost too quietly for Bonnie to hear. “Can you come home?”

  Sitting on the edge of Elena’s bed, Damon closed his eyes, just for a moment. He was so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion worse than any he could remember feeling before. He’d sat by Elena’s bedside for hours, her hand in his, silently willing her to keep breathing, and her heart to keep pounding.

  Willing Elena to wake up.

  And she’d kept breathing, somehow, although each slow, rattling breath seemed like it would be her last. All the way across the Atlantic from Paris, back to her home here in Virginia, she’d kept breathing. He could hear her heart beating, but weakly and irregularly.

  But still, she was unconscious. It didn’t matter how hard Damon willed her to wake up. It didn’t matter if he pleaded with Elena herself, or if he pulled out all the half-forgotten prayers of his childhood and begged a god who he was sure had turned away from him long ago.

  Nothing Damon did mattered.

  Gently, he brushed back a long strand of Elena’s hair from her cheek. The once bright gold was duller now, tangled and matted, and her cheeks were sallow. She looked so close to death that Damon’s heart clenched.

  Lifting his hand away from Elena’s face, Damon pressed his fist briefly against his chest. There was a dull empty ache there, where he was used to feeling Elena’s emotions running bright and strong through the bond between them. He hadn’t felt anything from their bond since Elena had fallen unconscious.

  “Come as fast as you can,” he heard Meredith say in the living room. On the other end of the phone line, he could hear Bonnie’s distressed voice promising to drop everything, to catch the first plane out. When Meredith finally hung up, there was a moment of pure silence before she gave a tearful sniff.

  She was pinning her hopes on the little redbird’s magic, he knew. Damon couldn’t help a traitorous little spark of hope himself—Bonnie was so Powerful now—but, deep inside, he knew that even Bonnie wouldn’t be able to help. The Guardians had made up their minds, and Elena was doomed.

  Damon stood and paced across the bedroom to stare out of the open window. Outside, the sun was setting. The bedroom’s walls pressed in around him. He was achingly conscious of Elena, lying silent and still behind him.

  Enough. He could sit by her bedside as long as he liked, but he wasn’t helping her. Damon was useless. He had to get out of here, away from Elena’s shallow breaths and the faint, dreadful scent of death that was slowly filling the room.

  Damon concentrated and felt his body compact, his bones twisting and hollowing. Shining black feathers sprang from his new form. After a few moments, a sleek black crow spread his wings wide and flew through the window and out into the night.

  Angling his wings to catch the evening breeze, Damon turned toward the river. Above him, dark gray clouds gathered, mirroring his emotions.

  Without consciously directing his flight, he soon found himself above Stefan’s grave on the riverbank. Landing and transforming gracefully back to his natural form, Damon looked around. It had only been a few weeks since they’d buried Stefan, but grass had already grown over the earth where his younger brother lay. As Damon gazed at it, the ache in his chest intensified.

  He bent and laid one hand against the ground over Stefan’s grave. The earth was dry and crumbled under his fingers. “I’m sorry, little brother,” he said. “I failed you. I’ve failed Elena.”

  Straightening, he wondered what he was doing. Dead was dead. Stefan couldn’t forgive him now, as much as it pained Damon to want him to.

  They’d spent so much time hating each other. Damon could admit now that it was his fault. He’d resented his younger brother for a host of reasons, beginning with the fact that their father had loved Stefan best. His hatred had intensified after that dreadful day that they’d killed each other, and through centuries of watching from a distance as Stefan suffered through his vampirism and refrained from killing humans, Damon had grown more and more bitter. Even as a monster, Stefan had been more virtuous than Damon had been as a man, and Damon had loathed him for it.

  But by the time Jack came along, Damon didn’t hate Stefan anymore. Jack. Damon’s jaw tightened with hatred, and overhead, thunder rumbled in response.

  Jack Daltry had pretended to be a human hunting a vicious, ancient vampire. It had all been a lie: Jack was a scientist who had created a new faster, stronger vampire race, who was on a mission to destroy older vampires. Including Stefan, Katherine, and Damon himself.

  Damon hadn’t even been on the same continent when Stefan was killed. He’d come home in time for Stefan’s funeral, in time to helplessly witness Elena’s devastation. Damon rubbed at his chest with one hand, wincing at the memory of how Elena’s pain had resonated through the magical bond between them, drawing him home. That pain was how he had known Stefan was dead. Nothing else could have hurt Elena so much.

  Damon and Elena’s bond was at the root of what had happened to Elena now. The Guardians had linked them to keep Damon under control. They’d rightly decided that if Damon and Elena were connected, it would prevent Damon from following his worst impulses. They’d spelled it out for him: If he fed on the unwilling, Elena would suffer. If he killed a human, Elena would die.

  Fat raindrops were beginning to fall, the light brown earth of the riverbank turning a splotchy brown. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Damon spoke again, staring down at his brother’s grave. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

  All they had wanted, what had consumed him and Elena both, was vengeance. And they had succeeded. They had tracked Jack down and Damon had killed him, had avenged Stefan’s death.

  After Jack died, Elena had finally felt at peace about Stefan. She’d turned to Damon, and for the first time they could love each other, without feeling that they were betraying Stefan. Damon knew he didn’t deserve her. Whatever soul he’d once had, it had been corrupted long ago. But Elena had wanted him anyway.

  They’d had two glorious weeks traveling together, enraptured with each other. Then Elena had collapsed, writhing in pain, and Mylea, the cold-faced Guardian who had bound them, arrived.

  Damon had assumed it was safe to kill Jack Daltry because Jack was a vampire. It was humans who were forbidden; monsters were fair game to Damon. He’d been a fool. Jack had made himself a vampire, used science to replicate the strength and ferocity of the vampire while getting rid of a vampire’s traditional vulnerabilities to wood, fire, sunlight.

  He had changed himself through mortal means. He had never died; his human life had never ended. Jack wasn’t a real vampire, just an imitation. There wasn’t a drop of magic in him. As far as the Guardians were concerned, Damon had broken their bargain. And now was paying the price.

  Dying.

  Damon had brought her back to Dalcrest. Something in him had made him sure that she would want to be here, among the people she loved.

  They’d battled unkillable monsters, saved the world together. Part of him, maybe foolishly, hoped that, together, they could all help him save her.

  But, now that they were here and nothing had changed, he was terrified that they couldn’t. Maybe Elena was beyond their reach. Damon shuddered at the thought, hunching his shoulders against the pounding rain.

  “Stefan,” he whispered, looking at the rain-soaked dirt of his brother’s grave, “what can I do?” He had tried forcing his blood down her throat—she wouldn’t have wanted it, but better a vampire than gone—but when he’d finally succeeded in making her swallow, it had done nothing.

  Rage rose in him, and thunder cracked overhead. Damon turned his face up toward the sky, streams of water running through his hair, soaking his clothes. “Mylea!” he shouted, his own voice sounding raw and broken beneath the steady pounding of the storm. “I surrender! Punish me, I don’t care. Anything. Just tell me what to do!” He paused and held his breath, listening and watching for some sign that the Guardians were prepared to bargain. He could feel tears running
down his face, a little warmer than the raindrops. “Please,” he whispered. “Save her.”

  There was no response, nothing but the sounds of the river and the rain. If the Guardian could hear him, she clearly didn’t care.

  Meredith smoothed her hand across Elena’s forehead. It was cold and clammy, and there were dark circles beneath Elena’s eyes, startling against her pale skin. Meredith couldn’t pull her eyes away from Elena’s sleeping face, hoping against hope that something would happen, that she would suddenly crinkle her face in the half-annoyed way she always did in the mornings.

  Stiffening, Meredith stared. Had there been a flicker of motion beneath Elena’s closed eyelids?

  “Elena?” Meredith said, keeping her voice soft and calm. “Can you hear me?”

  There was no response. Of course there wasn’t. They’d been trying for days, first Damon in Paris and then, once he’d gotten Elena home, Meredith had tried to wake her every way she could think of.

  In all that time, nothing had changed. Elena had lain as still and passive as a mannequin, with only a shallow, steady breathing to show that she still lived.

  Damon had said that, before she fell into this coma, Elena had been in terrible pain. Meredith was glad she had missed that, glad that Elena wasn’t suffering now. But this—this silent, pale creature—terrified Meredith. It couldn’t be Elena. Not clever, quick Elena who had survived so much, who had been closer than a sister to Meredith since they were kids.

  Meredith rose from her chair next to the big white bed, unable to bring herself to look at Elena anymore. Instead, she moved around the bedroom, efficiently tidying: books off the nightstand and back onto the shelves, shoes neatly straightened on the closet floor. She kept her eyes fixed on what she was doing. She was not going to think about the still figure in the bed.

  Meredith’s teeth gave a hollow throb, and she rubbed absently at her gums with one finger. She would need to slip out to the woods soon to feed, but she couldn’t leave Elena alone.

  Alone. Their ranks were dwindling. Stefan was dead. Elena was dying. Alaric, Bonnie, and Matt were all still on their way: Bonnie from her new home, Alaric from an academic conference, Matt from visiting his girlfriend, Jasmine’s, parents. Who knew where Damon was? He had disappeared hours ago.