chapter seven — gwyn's rules and gwyn's way

      The Salvatore Boarding House was placid and serenely quiet as Gwyn gazed at the flickering flames of the parlor's fireplace. There was an orange glow illuminated on her face, her docile eyes reflected like poisonous waters. She was wrapped with a small blanket, her ankles crossed beneath her thighs. Damon strolled into the room, two ornate teacups in both hands. As he perched himself beside her, he offered one of the glasses to her and sipped his own. It was Gwyn's raspberry tea, brewed and made to her liking. "So, we need the grimoire." She mused, sipping the tea fondly. She wasn't particularly keen on him revealing this revelation only now, but she was far more focused on a possible solution. "And this dude that was harassing Elena knew about the tomb and grimoire, too?"

      When Gwyn declined his invitation to attend some high school decade's dance, she didn't realize she would be missing a night of confessions and epiphanies that brought them closer to opening the tomb. She was especially shocked when Damon agreed to allow Stefan to work with them. She definitely wasn't keen on that decision, either. She was going to Elena's home to search for the journal later that day. "Yeah, and we need Jonathan Gilbert's journal for more information," Damon said, reclining back. He seemed as exhausted as she was.

      She exhaled a slow, deliberate breath as she mimicked him. "I remember Jonathan Gilbert," She began, an amused expression enlightened on her tired face. "He was a shitty inventor that needed his inventions enchanted with magic to work. I remember your asshole dad, Giuseppe, too. Actually, the whole circle of Founding Families were a bunch of useless dicks that couldn't get their dicks up. I would know."

      Damon couldn't suppress the laughter. "Remind how this whole memory thing works."

       Gwyn placed her teacup down on the small table, turning her body to face him. She didn't appear discomposed at the inquiry. "The Desdemona Coven came from Catemaco, Mexico in the late eighteenth century. We were known for our power with the practice of Void Magic, the source of the occult. Think of it as the stump of magic where the roots are richest, and the more acceptable variations of magic are merely the branches. My coven perfected their practice centuries ago and became extremely powerful. Our power is passed onto a promising witch of the coven and the leader of the coven then retires their role by transferring all memories and power onto the next suitable leader through some stupid complex ritual. All learned spells and memories of past coven leaders that were alive centuries prior are now inside the newest leader's mind." She jutted a finger towards her chest. "That's me. But I completed the ritual much earlier than I was supposed to. My father attempted a spell that needed much more power than he had and he almost died if I hadn't absorbed everything and saved him." Her eyes wavered for a brief moment as she remembered her father nearly dying but she instantly composed herself.

      Damon listened intently as she spoke, his eyes never faltering from her. "If you're the leader of your coven, why aren't you there?" Well, besides the obvious that he coerced her to return to Mystic Falls, he was confused with her absence.

      She smiled wistfully as she admired the flickering flames. "Because I killed them," Her voice was casual and unconcerned. And when her gaze bore into his bemused eyes, he witnessed unfathomable darkness. "People do bad things to survive. And I don't regret it in the slightest."

<<>>

      An immense tide of emotion coursed through Gwyn as she stepped inside Elena's home; the air was thick and concentrated as she subtly caressed her fingertips across the polished wood of the interior. She closed her eyes, listening to the wispy voices that echoed through the home, fragments of different times. Elena stopped by the living room entryway, eyes furrowed with confusion. Stefan's hand was interlaced with her smaller hand, reassuringly squeezing. "Your home is filled with so many feelings. Passion, love, happiness," Gwyn said, her voice was uncharacteristically soft, sympathetic even. "Mourning, grief, hopelessness." Her eyes opened, dark and colorless.

      Elena released a wavering sigh as she glanced upward through her lashes, her eyes meeting Stefan's soothing stare. She appeared unnerved by her observations, so they continued onward through the hallway and into the dining room as if Gwyn hadn't spoken. Elena pulled a chair from beneath the table for her and Gwyn, opening one of the boxes and sorting through the items she had already looked through. "So, how does it work," Elena questioned, avoiding Gwyn's eyes. "Your magic?" She said the word 'magic' as if she couldn't believe that it was as authentic as she was.

      Gwyn pulled a collection of meaningless papers, quickly going over them before discarding them. "How does anything work? Energy, nature, pulses of life—I can feel it all. Every witch can, but I'm just more sensitive to it. More in tune with it, I suppose." She paused, glimpsing at the photograph Elena was examining inquisitively. It was Jonathan Gilbert, and with that realization, Gwyn snorted at the memories she had of him.

      Footsteps filled the room and the floorboards creaked. "What are you guys doing?" Gwyn chanced a brief glance at the source of the voice, gaze meeting Elena's younger brother. His eyes widened as he noticed the unfamiliar person in the room and she was smoking hot. Gwyn rolled her eyes at the teenage hormones that radiated off of him and continued with her task.

      Elena placed the smaller box down, smiling at Jeremy. "Just going through some stuff. Feeling sentimental. Dad had this whole family journal from years ago. I thought I'd dig it up."

      Jeremy pushed himself on the countertop, recognition heavy on his expression. "Jonathan Gilbert's journal," He asked, "I just did a history report on it."

      Elena seemed relieved. "Oh. So where is it now?"

      "I gave it to Mr. Saltzman. He wanted to see it."

      Gwyn and Stefan exchanged a knowing look and hurried out the house.

<<>>

      "If we're going to do this, we're going to need—"

      Stefan interrupted her sentence, unlocking the school's entrance for both of them. "A plan where we don't kill anybody?"

      Gwyn chuckled, checking each classroom for any signs of someone's presence. "No, I was thinking more like codenames."

      Stefan didn't appear amused by her jokes and ignored her while they continued to stroll through the corridors. She was beginning to regret agreeing to join Stefan on his search for the journal. He was suffused with gloom, constant seriousness that didn't seem to have an end. Damon would have laughed at her joke.

      At the other end of the hallway, light seeped through an open door, the only opened one they've come across. They glanced at each other and imperceptibly nodded. Stefan entered the room first, sweeping the area to make sure it was safe. Gwyn followed after him, immediately dashing to the desk where several papers were strewn across the table. She opened and closed the drawers, messily searching.

      A small whooshing sound barely passed Gwyn's face, a faint breeze followed. As she looked away from the dozens of papers, she saw Stefan holding a wooden stake inches away from her face. Following the source, there was a man warily standing at the door frame, a gun-like contraption in both hands that was aimed in her direction. His hands shook as he attempted to reload. Within milliseconds, Stefan was behind him, hands clutching the man's shirt. "You shouldn't have done that." He forcefully tossed him into the rows of chairs and glared daggers as the man hurriedly stood up, nearly collapsing onto one of them. "Have a seat."

      The man hesitated, carefully observing Stefan's movements. Gwyn cruised to Stefan's side, a tiny jut of her chin made the man forcibly drop onto the chair with a grunt. "Who are you," She asked, leaning close to his nervous face. When he didn't answer, she sneered. "Better start listing some names, Van Helsing, before I shove my limited edition Jimmy Choos so far up your ass you'll taste dirt." Stefan furrowed his brows in concern. "What? This cock just tried to kill me!"

      He shook his head disapprovingly before returning his attention back to him. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

      "I am—"

      "Gwyn, stop." Stefan exhaled slowly, moving to a seat across from him. "Now, who are you?" His voice transformed into a harsh, demanding tone, all signs of kindness completely eradicated.

      The man's voice wavered as he answered. "I'm a teacher," Gwyn narrowed her eyes as she inched closer, threateningly, like a lion stalking its prey. "I'm also a historian. And while researching Virginia, I made a few discoveries about your town." Gwyn's eyes bore into his, cold and ruthless. She wasn't impressed by his answers. It was as if she knew he wasn't telling the entire truth. He relented. "My wife was a parapsychologist. She spent her life researching paranormal activity in this area. It was her work that led me here."

      "Where's your wife," Stefan asked. She glanced down at his hand. The absence of his wedding ring was evident.

      The man hesitated. "Dead," He answered, "A vampire killed her."

      Gwyn cocked her head, lips pursed. "What a tragedy," She replied, sarcasm thick in her tone. She wasn't interested in unlocking this teacher's personal life and backstory. She honestly couldn't care less. "Anyway, as interesting as that was, where's the Gilbert journal? We're on a tight schedule here."

      "What do you want with it?"

      She sneered, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were playing twenty questions. Where is the damn journal?" Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk she was sitting on, fingertips turning pale.

      "It's on my desk."

      "No, it's not. You watched me look through your desk before you tried to kill me."

      The man seemed as confused as she was. He peered over his shoulder, finally noticing the journal's disappearance. "It was on my desk."

      Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Great, the mystery thickens." She took a seat beside Stefan. "So, how long have you been aware of him?" She asked, motioning towards Stefan.

      "I learned just recently. What about your brother?"

       Stefan nodded. "You met Damon." It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

       It was the man's turn to look unimpressed. "Who do you think killed my wife?" There was silence in the air for a moment as they processed the revelation.

      Gwyn paused, resting her chin on her palm. "Yeah, that sounds like something Damon would do." She pondered for a moment. "You sure it was him?" She wasn't sure why she was searching for reassurance.

      "I witnessed it."

      Gwyn smiled, leaning forward. There was nothing kind or reassuring about the gesture. "If you're here for revenge, this is going to end very badly for you." Her eyes flickered to darkened shade for a second, a flash of achromatic rage. The man wasn't sure if he had seen what he thought, there was no way this woman's eyes just changed colors.

      He hurriedly glanced away from her stare. "I just want to find out what happened to my wife," Upon noticing their confusion, he continued. "I saw him draining the life out of her. He must have heard me coming. He just disappeared. So did her body. They never found her."

      Gwyn's phone buzzed in her back pocket. She fished for it and hopped off the desk, pressing it between her ear and shoulder. Stefan heard Damon's concerned voice on the other end and she exited the room to speak privately. Stefan turned to the teacher. "Damon and Gwyn can never know what you're actually here to do. They'll kill you without blinking."

      The man seemed entirely amused by his theatrics. "I can take care of myself."

      Stefan chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you can't. I can help you. If you let me."

      Gwyn listened carefully from behind the door frame, anger boiling her blood. Stefan had ulterior motives, which didn't surprise her, but it would destroy Damon. She knew from the beginning that taking the risk to trust Stefan and his useless girlfriend was unwise, but Damon was primarily focused on the possible reconciliation that might've bloomed between him and his brother. She departed the hallway, not bothering to offer Stefan a reason for her departure. Dialing Damon's number, she stepped inside her car. "Hello—"

      "I'm leaving the school to meet with you. Stefan and I ran into some vampire-hunter teacher that had the journal, but someone else took it," She didn't give him a chance to utter a word. There wasn't any time to waste. They were both so close to discovering the grimoire's location, she wasn't going to let some douchebag with bad hair ruin her chance. She was already driving and she wasn't even sure where. "He told us that you killed his wife, that's why he's here in town. And when you called me, I left the room and Stefan thought I couldn't hear him, but he was trying to work with him—told him we both couldn't know why he was actually here."

      Damon cursed over the phone. "Who took it?" He sneered, frustration clear in his voice, but it wasn't directed towards her.

      "I don't know, someone took it before we got there," She responded, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. "Who else knew it was there?"

      He was quiet for a moment before he began speaking again. There was shuffling in the background. "So, I heard you found a really cool journal from back in the day. Who else did you show it to?" He asked.

      "Why is everybody so obsessed with that thing?" Gwyn heard Elena's little brother ask.

      "Who else did you tell?" The urgency was obvious and Jeremy noticed.

      "Just that girl Anna."

      "The hot weird one?" Gwyn rolled her eyes at the description.

      "Yeah, she wants me to meet her at the grill tonight."

      Damon seemed satisfied. "Perfect. I'll drive."

<<>>

      Gwyn arrived at the location Damon instructed her to meet her. The night was soundless and the stars twinkled in the midnight sky. It was a dingy motel near the outskirts of town, barely occupied by anyone so she easily spotted Damon casually leaning against one of the door frames. He met her halfway and the wounded glimmer in his eye was piercing. She knew he wasn't going to have any desire to speak about the hurt he was experiencing from the unexpected revelation so she remained quiet. "Jeremy's little stalker girlfriend is Anna, as in eighteen-sixty-four Anna." She furrowed her brows together, recalling the memories that weren't hers. "Pearl's sweet, innocent daughter?" She asked, incredulous. Following Damon to one of the several doors, she concealed him as he messed with the lock with a pick.

      Anna was a dainty young girl, barely spoke a word if her mother wasn't around and was a curious soul. The door creaked open with a small click. "That's the one. She's gonna be here any minute." They stepped inside, rummaging through her discarded possessions in hopes of coming across the journal. The possibility of her leaving the journal behind was low, but they were clinging to hope. As Damon closed one of the nightstand's drawers, he paused. His attention was quickly diverted to the door and he pulled Gwyn close behind the door, pressing his hand against her mouth. "She's here." He whispered, his face incredibly close to hers.

      The doorknob shimmied and the locks were unlocked before the door was opened. Damon, in a blur, wrapped his hand against Anna's throat, speedily pushing her against the wall across the room. She replicated him and they both winced and groaned as they struggled to breathe. "Okay, I give." Damon choked out and they both released each other. Damon coughed while massaging his throat. "Damn. You're strong for a little thing."

      Anna gasped heavily. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to find me."

      Gwyn strolled beside Damon. "Well, rats are hard to catch."

      Anna glanced at her, a flash of remembrance in her eyes. "You would think a Desedemona witch would have no problem finding me." Was all she said.

      "I've been a little preoccupied dealing with teenage angst and bullshit."

      It was Damon's turn to roll his eyes. "How long have you been here?"

      Anna removed her bag from around her shoulder, setting it on the dresser. "I arrived around half-past comet, watching you screw up every chance you had to open that tomb."

      Damon didn't let her words affect him. "How'd you know about the spell?"

      She shrugged. "I didn't say much then, which means I heard everything."

      Gwyn stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. "So if you've been here this entire time, why are we barely crossing paths?" She made a theatrical gasp. "Aren't you trying to get into some emo teenager's pants? He's like fifteen."

      Anna ignored her comment, regardless of how true it was, and pushed passed her. "I like to use others to do my dirty work."

      Gwyn saw a glimpse of someone passing through Anna's mind. "Like Logan Fell? The moron of the century?"

      "Logan was an idiot. We slipped him some blood when he started getting all poser slayer with that compass. I needed his family journal. I couldn't let him die."

       Damon furrowed his brows with confusion. "What'd you want with the Fell journal?"

      "I thought it contained the location of the witch's spellbook. I was wrong. According to her journal, Honorea gave the grimoire to Jonathan Gilbert." Anna revealed the bound journal from her military-green bag. "And, according to this, he gave it to your father. So now you're going to help me find it."

      Gwyn stole a glimpse at the muddy-brown journal. "Why would we help you?"

      "Because we all want that tomb open." She opened the journal and flipped to the page where it disclosed the location, offering it to Damon. He quickly scanned over the cursive writing, chuckling as he discovered the whereabouts.

      He closed it, wrapping the string around the bound papers. "Sorry, I already have a partner." He then grabbed Gwyn's hand and led her outside the motel without another word.

<<>>

      Of course the grimoire was in his father's grave.

      Stupid of Gwyn to think the grimoire's whereabouts were in an average and normal location. She trudged beside Damon with a childish pout, listening to the trees creak and leaves crunch beneath their weight. She was not wearing the right shoes to go grave-digging.

      As they inched closer to Damon's father's grave, there was an orange illumination encircling the area; Elena and Stefan. They were already there, covered in dry soil and holding the large grimoire in their traitorous hands. Damon stomped forward. "Well, what do you know," Elena hurriedly stood and aimed her flashlight in their direction. "This is an interesting turn of events."

      Stefan mimicked Elena, hesitantly standing upright. "I can't let you bring her back. I'm sorry."

      Gwyn could see Damon's aura swirl into a muddy mixture of anger and despair. "So am I. For thinking for even a second that I can trust you."

      Stefan chuckled humorlessly. "Oh. You're not capable of trust." Each word was thick with frustration. "The fact that you're here means you read the journal and you two were planning on this yourselves."

      "Of course we were going to do it ourselves because the only one I can count on is me and Gwyn! You made sure of that many years ago, Stefan." He turned his betrayed gaze onto Elena. "But you had me fooled." Elena looked down at the empty grave, ashamed of the feeling boiling in her stomach. She did feel horrible despite all that Damon has done. "So what are you going to do now? Because if you try and destroy that, I'll rip her heart out."

      Stefan stiffened, shaking his head. "You won't kill her."

      Gwyn stepped forward, her eyes transforming into colorless lagoons. "But I will," Her entire demeanor had shifted as black smoke dripped from her body. Her open palm was directed towards Stefan, planting him to the floor as she menacingly stalked towards Elena. "We're doing this my way, now. I'm done holding back. Give me the book or I kill her right now."

      Stefan's eyes were pleading. If it were Damon, he might've had a chance to convince him to release her, but this was Gwyn—an irate coven leader who was quite literally oozing dark magic. "Let her go first."

      Gwyn's black eyes narrowed as her hands curled, resulting with Elena collapsing to the floor, clutching her neck. Blood streamed down the sides of her mouth as she struggled to breathe. "The book, now."

      "I'm not going to give this to you until she is standing next to me."

      The darkness that shrouded the witch was unbearably thick. "Stefan, give me the grimoire or I will make you watch me kill Elena, her family, her friends, and then you. I will burn this whole town to the ground if I need to. I will make sure you suffer and I'll enjoy every second of it."

      Stefan's eyes teared up as he shakingly tossed the grimoire onto the ground. Gwyn smiled, it was unbelievably cold and calloused as she released her grasp on Elena, allowing her to stumble into her boyfriend's concerned grasp. Gwyn's eyes returned to their normal dark brown. "Was that so hard?" She motioned for Damon to retrieve the book from the dirt and he complied. "Let's go. We're doing things my way, now."