she was standing straight-backed and proud, yel ing at the top of her lungs. "I know I'l never be as good at school as she is, but that's okay. I cast my jealousy out!"
The phantom's rose dimmed to a dark pink for a moment, and it staggered ever so slightly. It glanced at Bonnie and hissed. It was only a tiny pause in the phantom's advance, but it was enough for Damon to spring to his feet. He stepped in front of Meredith, shielding her as she clambered up. Without even looking at each other, Meredith and Damon began circling in opposite directions again. "I've been jealous that my friends have more money than I do!" Matt shouted, "but I cast the jealousy out!"
"I envy the way Alaric truly believed in something unproven, and turned out to be right!" Celia yel ed. "But I cast it out!"
"I've envied Elena's clothes!" Bonnie cried. "I'm too short to look good in lots of things! But I cast that out!"
Damon kicked at the phantom, pul ing his smoldering leg back quickly. Meredith swung her stave. Mrs. Flowers chanted in Latin, and Alaric joined her, his low voice in counterpoint to hers, reinforcing her spel . Bonnie, Celia, and Matt kept shouting: dredging up smal jealousies and hurts that they were probably usual y hardly aware of, casting them out to pepper the phantom with tiny blows. And for the first time, the phantom looked... baffled. It swung its head slowly from one to another of its opponents: Damon stalking toward it, fists raised; Meredith, her stave swinging surely as she watched the phantom with a cool and considering gaze; Alaric and Mrs. Flowers reciting strings of Latin words, hands lifted; Bonnie, Matt, and Celia shouting confessions as if they were throwing rocks at it. Jealousy's glassy eyes passed over Elena without real y seeming to notice her: Standing stil and quiet among the entire hubbub, she was not a threat.
This was the best chance Elena was going to get. She nerved herself to move forward, then froze as the phantom turned toward her.
Then, miraculously, Stefan was there. He grappled at the phantom's back, throwing one arm around its neck as the flames licked at him. His shirt caught fire. The phantom, briefly, was pul ed backward past Elena, its torso toward her, unprotected.
Without hesitation, Elena plunged her hand into the fire. For a moment, she barely felt the flames, just a gentle, almost cool touch against her hand as the flames flickered around her. Not so bad, she had a moment to think, and then she felt the pain.
It was pure and agonizing, and dark fireworks of shock went off behind her eyes. She had to fight to overcome the almost irresistible instinct to pul her hand back out of the fire. Instead, she groped at the phantom's torso, searching for the cut Meredith had made just above its rose. It was slippery and smooth, and her hand fumbled. Where is it?
Where is it?
Damon had thrown himself into the flames alongside Stefan, yanking at the phantom's arms and neck, keeping its torso clear for Elena, preventing the phantom from ripping free and throwing her across the room. Meredith beat at Jealousy's side with her stave. Behind her, her friends' voices rose in a babble of confessions and spel s as they did their part to keep the phantom off balance and disoriented.
At last Elena's hand found the cut and she pushed inside. It was icy cold in the phantom's chest, and Elena yelped at the contrast - the cold was excruciating after the heat, and the flames stil licked at her wrist and arm. The freezing liquid inside the phantom's chest was so thick, it was like feeling through gelatin. Elena shoved and reached, and the phantom screamed with pain.
It was a horrible sound and, despite al that the phantom had done to her and her friends, Elena could not help flinching in sympathy. A moment later, Elena's hand closed on the rose's stem and a thousand thorns pierced her burned flesh. Ignoring the pain, she pul ed the rose out of the freezing liquid, out of the fire, and staggered backward, away from the phantom.
She didn't know what she'd expected to happen, exactly. For the phantom to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, perhaps, leaving nothing but a puddle of vile greenish water. Instead, the phantom stared at her, its mouth open, its pointed, shining teeth on ful display. The