the foxes, are much more powerful magically, but werewolves tend to kill before they think.” He struck his knee with his fist. “I wish I could be there!”
Elena burst out with mixed wonder and despair, “And instead here I am—with you! I never knew I could do this. But I haven’t been able to bring you anything this way, not even myself. My blood.” She made a helpless gesture and saw the smugness in Stefan’s eyes.
He still had the Clarion Loess Black Magic wine she’d smuggled to him! She knew it! It was the only liquid that would—in a pinch—help keep a vampire alive when no blood was available.
Black Magic “wine”—nonalcoholic and never made for humans in the first place, was the only drink that vampires really enjoyed aside from blood. Damon had told Elena that it was magically made from special grapes that were grown in the soil at the edges of glaciers, loess, and that they were always kept in complete darkness. That was what gave it its velvety dark taste, he’d said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Stefan said, undoubtedly for the benefit of anyone who might be spying. “Exactly how did it happen?” he asked then. “This out of body thing? Why don’t you come down here and tell me about it?” He lay back on his pallet, turning aching eyes on her. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a better bed to offer you.” For a moment the humiliation showed clearly in his face. All this time he’d managed to hide it from her: the shame he felt in appearing before her in this way—in a filthy cell, with rags for clothes, and infested with God knew what. He—Stefan Salvatore, who had once been—had once been—
Elena’s heart truly broke then. She knew it was breaking, because she could feel it inside shattering like glass, with each needle-like shard skewering flesh inside her chest. She knew it was breaking, too, because she was weeping, huge spirit tears that dropped on Stefan’s face like blood, translucent in the air as they fell, but turning deep red when they touched Stefan’s face.
Blood? Of course, it wasn’t blood, she thought. She couldn’t even bring anything so useful to him in this form. She was really sobbing now; her shoulders shaking as the tears continued to fall onto Stefan, who now had one hand held up as if to catch one…
“Elena—” There was wonder in his voice.
“Wha—what?” she keened.
“Your tears. Your tears make me feel…” He was staring up at her with something like awe.
Elena still couldn’t stop weeping, although she knew that she had soothed his proud heart—and done something else.
“I d-don’t understand.”
He caught one of her tears and kissed it. Then he looked at her with a sheen in his own eyes. “It’s hard to talk about, lovely little love….”
Then why use words? she thought, still weeping, but coming down to his level so she could snuffle just above his throat.
It’s just…they’re not too free with the refreshments around here, he told her. As you guessed. If you hadn’t—helped me—I’d’ve been dead by now. They can’t figure out why I’m not. So they—well they run out before they get to me, sometimes, you see —
Elena lifted her head, and this time tears of pure rage fell right onto his face. Where are they? I’ll kill them. Don’t tell me I can’t because I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way to kill them even though I’m in this state—
He shook his head at her. Angel, angel, don’t you see? You don’t have to kill them. Because your tears, the phantom tears of a pure maiden —
She shook her head back at him. Stefan, if anyone knows I’m not a pure maiden, it’s you—
—of a pure maiden, Stefan continued, not even disturbed by her interruption, can cure all ills. And I was ill tonight, Elena, even though I tried to hide it. But I’m cured now! As good as new! They’ll never be able to understand how it could happen.
Are you sure?
Look at me!
Elena looked at him. Stefan’s face, which had