What Doesn't Kill You...

Divided and Doomed

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

Damon opened his eyes and saw Charlie smirking down on him.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" He sat up grimacing at yet another ruined shirt. A chill ran down his spine. "Did you have to bring me here?" He gestured at the morgue.

Charlie shrugged casually. "This is where we bring dead bodies...and you...weren't rising as quickly as you normally do."

"What?" Panic squeezed his stomach. "What do you mean I didn't come back as quickly?"

"You were doing some heavy thinking in the Veil. I don't think you were ready to come back." Charlie replied ruefully. That's why I could never stand your presence...your  will supersedes my own.

Damon's brow furrowed. Heavy thinking? He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about in the Veil. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty when he opened his eyes was that Isabella's days were numbered. He was no longer a pawn to be pushed around her chess board. "I'm back now. We need to hurry. Whatever Isabella is planning has to be stopped. Where's Violet? Did she find anything out from Liz?"

"About that." Charlie spoke, her words soft. "It seems that Violet has gone missing."

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"Of aaaaaaalllllllll the dungeons in aaaaaaaallllllll the world, you had to walk into mine." Violet wailed dramatically, the silver chains binding her wrists jingling melodically.

Alistair glowered at her from across the bare stone floor. He too was chained up. He scowled at her. "Why couldn't Liz have given you a fatal dose of Nightshade?" Violet had only just regained consciousness after that traitor tossed her in here. Vampires recovering from Nightshade were like drunk humans. Loud and obnoxious.

"Why didn't she give you a fatal dose? She reaaaallllly hates you....and so do I." Violet pointed at herself and slumped back against the wall.

The door to the basement creaked open. Alistair stared at a spot on the brick wall near the ceiling. He refused to dignify anyone walking through that door with his attention. The unmitigated gall of Liz to think she could overthrow him? Him?! 

"Are we still pouting?" Isabella cooed at him. She stepped into the room and crouched beside him. "Are you still ignoring me?" When Alistair didn't respond, Isabella continued. "Fine. Pout away. That isn't going to stop what's about to happen."

"What iiiiiis about to happen, you necrotic hag?" Violet retorted from the other side of the room.

Isabella sighed with exasperation and looked over her shoulder at Violet. "Something your puny brain can't possibly fathom. Something great...something unprecedented...something---"

"By the night! Will you just say it?!" Alistair snapped. His patience was rapidly fraying between effects of Violet's nightshade poisoning and this necrotic hag's--it really was a fitting description-- rambling.

"He speaks." Isabella gasped and laid a hand over her chest. She rose and straightened her dress. "Tonight. The dead will rise. An army of the dead."

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"She's not dead if that's what you're wondering." Charlie interrupted Damon's outburst. "I would know."

"Then where the hell is she?!" Damon yelled sliding off the metal slab, his shoes hitting the tile floor with a loud click.

Charlie folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "My guess is she's with Isabella. Imprisoned or under her control. But that's not the real problem."

Damon replied bitterly. "Of course. We're just cannon fodder to you."

"Don't think that just because you can't die that you're safe from me. I don't need to kill you to make you suffer." It wasn't Charlie speaking, but Death. Her voice weighed heavy in the room and in his soul. He knew she was right, but it didn't make him feel any less furious. Violet didn't deserve to be at Isabella's mercy. No one did.

"The real issue is what Isabella's planning and with whom."

Charlie's words got his attention. Isabella was always planning some evil machination to wreck the lives of others. That was nothing new. However, she always worked alone. Sure, she had underlings do her dirty work, but never had she worked "with" someone. Never a partner, only subordinates. "Who is she working with?"

She raised her hand, revealing a faint scar of the demonic sygil on her palm. "A demon."

"I take it that it's not just any demon?" Damon replied quietly.

She inclined her head. "He's one of the 9 demon kings of Hell who were locked away for all eternity. This one in particular leads an army of the dead that can sweep across this planet like a plague."

Damon swallowed nervously. "Is that all?"