hem out of the slave-holding area, they were stopped by what Elena
would later learn was a Guardian.
She would learn that in a way, the Guardians were the rulers of the
Dark Dimension, although they themselves came from another place far
away and it was almost as if they had permanently occupied this little
slice of Hell, trying to impose order on the slum king and feudal lords
who divided the city among themselves.
This Guardian was a tall woman with hair the color of Elena’s
own—true gold—cut square at shoulder length, and she paid no
attention at all to Damon but immediately asked Elena, who was first in
line behind him, “Why are you here?”
Elena was glad, very glad, that Damon had taught her to control
her aura. She concentrated on that while her brain hummed at supersonic
speed, wondering what the right response to this question was. The
response that would leave them free and not get them sent home.
Damon didn’t train us for this, was her first thought. And her
second was, no, because he’s never been here before. He doesn’t know
how everything works here, only some things.
And if it looked as if this woman was going to try to interfere with
him, he might just go crazy and attack her, a helpful little voice added
from somewhere in Elena’s subconscious. Elena doubled the speed of