Elena thought, trying to cut through Bonnie’s mental haze
even at the cost of the Guardian hearing her. These are the police.
At the same moment, Damon took over. “She’s the same as the
others,” he said. “Except that she’s psychic.”
“No one asked your opinion,” the Guardian snapped at him,
without even glancing in Damon’s direction. “I don’t care what kind of
bigwig you are down there”—she jerked her head contemptuously at the
city of lights—“you’re on my turf behind this fence. And I’m asking the
little red-haired girl: is what he is saying the truth?”
Elena had a moment of panic. After all they’d been through, if
Bonnie blew it now…
This time Bonnie blinked. Whatever else she was trying to
communicate, it was true that she was the same as Meredith and Elena.
And it was true that she was psychic. Bonnie was a terrible liar when she
had too much time to think about things, but to this she could say
without hesitation, “Yes, that’s true.”
The Guardian stared at Damon.
Damon stared back as if he could do it all night. He was a
champion out-starer.
And the Guardian waved them away.
“I suppose even a psychic can have a bad day,” she said, then
added to Damon, “Take care of them. You realize that all psychics have
to be licensed?”
Damon, with his best grand seigneur manner, said, “Madam, these