Read Online The War of Roses by L. J. Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. J. Smith
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“I’m going to look at Mrs. Flowers’s encyclopedia set, if that’s all right with her.”
“Of course it’s all right, my dear. But what will you be looking for?”
“Oh—well, I thought I might as well see if there’s a picture of Dante’s nine circles of Hell,” Elena said, still without expression. “I mean, we’re looking everywhere else for Damon. And there are other worlds down there, aren’t there? I mean the Nether World is below the Dark Dimension, and there are still more worlds beneath it, right?”
“Ye-es,” Stefan replied slowly. “Sage’s father is at the very bottom, I think. I don’t have any idea how the worlds above it are ordered, and I doubt that it’s much like Dante’s Inferno described, but the pendulum might take our intentions into account and react.”
“Good,” Elena said briskly, although she could see that both Bonnie and Stefan were horrified at the idea that Damon might be in some deep hell undergoing the tortures of the damned. She was as determined as Bonnie to find Damon, wherever he was, and that included marching into hell if necessary.
Once she’d had a chance to wash and drink some lemony iced tea, she thumbed through the musty volumes of Mrs. Flowers’s antique Encyclopædia Britannica until she found a suitable painting done by Hieronymus Bosch, who had been born around the year 1450.
“Might as well get it over with before you start on the Earth,” she said to Bonnie, putting the heavy book on the table as Stefan returned with his old atlas.
Bonnie gulped but picked up the piece of quartz by its golden chain. Her small hand shook so badly at first that the crystal bobbed and swung in all different directions.
Elena held the page open and stable for her. Mrs. Flowers and Stefan murmured encouragement now and then and eventually Bonnie calmed enough to move the quartz pendulum steadily across each of the nine rows.
When she finished, Elena was finally able to take a deep breath and she saw that everyone around the table was doing the same.
“Now for the atlas,” Elena said with brittle cheer.
“ Good,” Bonnie managed to say, although she was obviously having trouble sitting up straight.
“I think only one or two pages for the moment,” Mrs. Flowers put in quickly. “Spiritual powers are like any other ability. At some point you simply do too much too quickly and they run out.”
“Well . . . I suppose I could use a little nap,” Bonnie admitted. “ Especially since we know that he’s not being tortured in hell somewhere and we need to get him out right away.”
“Exactly,” Stefan said.
“I mean, there’s not much rush . . . if he’s just been . . . reincarnated as some . . . somebody’s unborn baby . . .”
Elena glanced at Stefan. He smiled at her with his eyes only, and she smiled back the same way.
Bonnie had melted like a candle. She was slumped with her cheek pillowed on her crooked arm, which was on the table. In a moment she was breathing slowly and regularly, asleep as soundly as a baby in its cradle.
Stefan looked at Mrs. Flowers and Elena, his eyebrows up to ask if he should carry Bonnie to a bedroom. Elena found herself shaking her head and watching Mrs. Flowers do the same. Bonnie looked consummately comfortable—like an exhausted little kitten, Elena thought with a rush of tenderness.
Amid the tenderness, there was a tiny thread of concern. Elena didn’t want to examine it, but she couldn’t help it. It was a worry that Bo nnie cared too much about Damon; that somehow she was inevitably going to get hurt.
Or . . . maybe that I’m going to get hurt, Elena admitted truthfully. It astonished her sometimes, that Bonnie could be so much of a woman, so much more forgiving and—well, mature—than Elena was. Wasn’t it Bonnie who truly deserved, who truly had proven herself worthy of . . .
Elena turned away sharply, startled and
“Of course it’s all right, my dear. But what will you be looking for?”
“Oh—well, I thought I might as well see if there’s a picture of Dante’s nine circles of Hell,” Elena said, still without expression. “I mean, we’re looking everywhere else for Damon. And there are other worlds down there, aren’t there? I mean the Nether World is below the Dark Dimension, and there are still more worlds beneath it, right?”
“Ye-es,” Stefan replied slowly. “Sage’s father is at the very bottom, I think. I don’t have any idea how the worlds above it are ordered, and I doubt that it’s much like Dante’s Inferno described, but the pendulum might take our intentions into account and react.”
“Good,” Elena said briskly, although she could see that both Bonnie and Stefan were horrified at the idea that Damon might be in some deep hell undergoing the tortures of the damned. She was as determined as Bonnie to find Damon, wherever he was, and that included marching into hell if necessary.
Once she’d had a chance to wash and drink some lemony iced tea, she thumbed through the musty volumes of Mrs. Flowers’s antique Encyclopædia Britannica until she found a suitable painting done by Hieronymus Bosch, who had been born around the year 1450.
“Might as well get it over with before you start on the Earth,” she said to Bonnie, putting the heavy book on the table as Stefan returned with his old atlas.
Bonnie gulped but picked up the piece of quartz by its golden chain. Her small hand shook so badly at first that the crystal bobbed and swung in all different directions.
Elena held the page open and stable for her. Mrs. Flowers and Stefan murmured encouragement now and then and eventually Bonnie calmed enough to move the quartz pendulum steadily across each of the nine rows.
When she finished, Elena was finally able to take a deep breath and she saw that everyone around the table was doing the same.
“Now for the atlas,” Elena said with brittle cheer.
“ Good,” Bonnie managed to say, although she was obviously having trouble sitting up straight.
“I think only one or two pages for the moment,” Mrs. Flowers put in quickly. “Spiritual powers are like any other ability. At some point you simply do too much too quickly and they run out.”
“Well . . . I suppose I could use a little nap,” Bonnie admitted. “ Especially since we know that he’s not being tortured in hell somewhere and we need to get him out right away.”
“Exactly,” Stefan said.
“I mean, there’s not much rush . . . if he’s just been . . . reincarnated as some . . . somebody’s unborn baby . . .”
Elena glanced at Stefan. He smiled at her with his eyes only, and she smiled back the same way.
Bonnie had melted like a candle. She was slumped with her cheek pillowed on her crooked arm, which was on the table. In a moment she was breathing slowly and regularly, asleep as soundly as a baby in its cradle.
Stefan looked at Mrs. Flowers and Elena, his eyebrows up to ask if he should carry Bonnie to a bedroom. Elena found herself shaking her head and watching Mrs. Flowers do the same. Bonnie looked consummately comfortable—like an exhausted little kitten, Elena thought with a rush of tenderness.
Amid the tenderness, there was a tiny thread of concern. Elena didn’t want to examine it, but she couldn’t help it. It was a worry that Bo nnie cared too much about Damon; that somehow she was inevitably going to get hurt.
Or . . . maybe that I’m going to get hurt, Elena admitted truthfully. It astonished her sometimes, that Bonnie could be so much of a woman, so much more forgiving and—well, mature—than Elena was. Wasn’t it Bonnie who truly deserved, who truly had proven herself worthy of . . .
Elena turned away sharply, startled and
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