The next morning Elena got up and dressed quietly in the motel room, grateful for the extra space. Damon was gone, but she had expected that. He usually got his breakfast early while they were on the road, preying on waitresses at all-night truck stops or early-morning diners.
She was going to discuss that with him someday, she thought as she put the packet of ground coffee in the little two-cup percolator the motel provided. It smelled good.
But more urgently, she needed to talk to someone about what had happened last night. Stefan was her first choice, of course, but she'd found that out of body experiences weren't just to be had for the asking. What she needed to do was call Bonnie and Meredith. She had to talk to them - it was her right - but now, of all times, she couldn't. Intuitively, she felt that any contact between her and Fell's Church might be bad.
And Matt had never checked in. Not once. She had no idea where he was on the road, but he had better be in Sedona on time, that was all. He had deliberately cut off all communication between them. Fine. As long as he showed up when he had promised.
But...Elena still needed to talk. To express herself.
Of course! She was an idiot! She still had her faithful companion that never said a word, and never kept her waiting. Pouring herself a cup of scalding black coffee on the way, Elena dug her diary out of the bottom of her duffel bag and opened it to a fresh, clean page. There was nothing like a fresh page and an ink pen that ran smoothly to start her writing.
Fifteen minutes later there was a rattle at one window and a minute later Damon was stepping through. He had several paper bags with him and Elena felt unaccountably pleased and homey. She had provided coffee, which was rather good even if it came with dried cream substitute, and Damon had supplied...
"Gasoline," he said triumphantly, raising his eyebrows significantly at her as he set the bags on the table. "Just in case they try to use plants against us. No, thanks," he added, seeing she was standing with a full cup of coffee held in his direction. "I had a garage mechanic while I was buying this. I'll just go wash my hands."
And he disappeared, walking right past Elena.
Walking right past her, without a glance, even though she was wearing her only clean pair of clothes left: jeans and a subtly colored top that looked white at first glance and only in the brightest light revealed that it was ethereally rainbow-shaded.
Without a single look, Elena thought, feeling a strange sensation that somehow her life had just lapped itself.
She started to throw the coffee away but then decided she needed it herself and drank it in a few scalding gulps.
Then she went and stood by her diary, reading over the last two or three pages.
"Are you ready to go?" Damon was shouting over the sound of running water in the bathroom.
"Yes - in just a minute." Elena read the diary pages from the previous entry, and began skimming the one before that.
"We might as well go straight west from here," Damon shouted. "We can make it in one day. They'll think it's a feint for one particular gate and search all the small ones. Meanwhile we'll go on heading for the Kimon Gate and be days ahead of anyone tracking us. It's perfect."
"Uh-huh," Elena said, reading.
"We ought to be able to meet Mutt tomorrow - maybe even this evening, depending on what kind of trouble they cause."
"Uh-huh."
"But first I wanted to ask you: do you think it's a coincidence that our window is broken? Because I always put wards on them at night and I'm sure - " He passed a hand over his forehead. "I'm sure that I must have done that last night, as well. But something got through and broke the window and got away without a trace. That was why I bought all the the gasoline. If they try something with trees, I'll blast them all back to Stonehenge."
And half the innocent residents of the state, Elena thought grimly. But she was in a state of such shock that not much could make an impression on top of it.
"What are you doing now?" Damon was clearly ready to get up and going.
"Getting rid of something I don't need," Elena said, and flushed the toilet, watching the torn-up bits of her diary swirl round and round before disappearing.
"I wouldn't worry about the window, though," she said, coming back into the bedroom and slipping her shoes on. "And don't get up for a minute, Damon. I've got to talk to you about something."
"Oh, come on. It can wait until we're on the road, can't it?"
"No, it can't, because we've got to pay for that window. You broke it last night, Damon. But you don't remember doing it, do you?"
Damon stared at her. She could tell that his first temptation was to laugh. His second temptation, to which he gave in, was to think that she was nuts.
"I'm serious," she said, once he had gotten up and started to pace toward the window with a distinct look of wanting to be a crow flying out of it. "Don't you dare go anywhere, Damon, because there's more."
"More stuff I did that I don't remember?" Damon lounged against the wall in one of his old, arrogant poses. "Maybe I smashed a few guitars, kept the radio on until four A.M.?"
"No. Not necessarily things from - last night," Elena said, looking away. She couldn't look at him. "Other things, from other days - "
"Like maybe I've been trying to sabotage this trip all along," he said, his voice laconic. He eyed the ceiling and sighed heavily. "Maybe I've done it just to be alone with you - "
"Shut up, Damon!"