The War of Roses Read Online Free PDF

“He’s as cold as—ice!  He doesn’t even care about a poor, scared dog that’s outside getting frozen—”
    “He’s an Alaskan Husky—or a wolf-dog ,” Damon said.  “They’ve both got coats that let them sleep on glaciers!  I don’t think a little October Virginia weather is going to freeze him.  Even if it snowed on him, he—”
    “You’re going to make it snow on him!  Don’t make it snow on him!” Bonnie cried, bursting into all-encompassing sobs.  Even as she heard the words she realized that she must be having one of her psycho trances, where she said peculiar things without knowing it.  Weird that this time she was aware of speaking. 
    Damon made a gesture of flinging out his hands and looking pointedly for other-worldly intervention.  Instead of rolling his eyes upward, however, he looked sideways, toward the wall with the large wooden turquoise and gold letter E.  Matt, Caroline and Meredith glanced back and forth between the wall, Damon, Elena, and Bonnie.  Eventually, though, they all focused on Bonnie, maybe because Elena had never taken her eyes off her.
    Matt ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even higher on one side.  He wet his lips.  “She’s . . .”
    “Yeah,” Meredith said. 
    “ No ,” Elena corrected.  “She isn’t having an episode.  She’s scared to death, is all. And I don’t think I feel well, either.”  She massaged her forehead with both hands, then began rubbing her closed eyes with her palms.  “Bonnie?  Why . . . do you think that Damon can . . . damn it! . . . make it snow?”
                  Bonnie was surprised into trying to stop her sobbing, although she couldn’t really, not on full flow like that.  Hearing Elena say that she, Bonnie, was scared to death, made Bonnie feel even more frightened.  Having Elena ask her a question with no sensible answer was even worse, because Bonnie knew Elena and Elena was in earnest.
    “I didn’t mean it,” Bonnie said feebly, still crying.
    “Of course you meant it.  But why?”  Elena’s hand beat on the air, softly impatient.
    “ Yes,” Damon said suddenly, his voice grim.  “Look at me, Bonnie.  Can I make it snow?  Look hard .”
    Something deep inside Bonnie unfurled and looked.  It stared at Damon and all around him and came back with a shocking report. 
    “No,” Bonnie said, surprised that she was shocked.  “You’re totally . . . you don’t even have any . . .” 
    “Can you make it snow?” Damon persisted, still grim, watching her narrowly.
    “ Me?   Of course not.”
    “All right, then.   Did I have anything to do with the attack on Elena?  I mean, that’s what Elena really wants to know.  Isn’t it, princess?”
    Bonnie hiccupped.  She was too shocked now to keep crying.  “Of course you didn’t !  You . . . no!  Anyone could tell that.”
    Elena nodded at Bonnie and then turned to Damon.  “Okay.  Fine.  I’m still going to hit you, though, because I dreamed that you did it.”
    “You dreamed that I did it,” Damon echoed , sounding as if nothing would surprise him anymore.  “Bonnie sleepwalks and you dream that . . . I mean, how?   With a giant straw?  No, on second thought, don’t answer that.”
    “Can everybody just stop being so . . . bizarre?  Just for a few minutes?” Meredith pleaded.
    “Some of us are crazy,” Bonnie said darkly.
    “And some us are dreamers,” Elena said, at her most mysterious and deliberately obstinate. 
    “Yeah, and some of us are a purple duck, or a mountainside, or a quarter after three,” Mat t contributed, brightening suddenly.
    “Is it that late?” Caroline asked, frowning.
    “It’s Hans Christian Andersen .”
    “I thought it was an ugly duckling,” Damon muttered. “Purple—wouldn’t it end up a slightly effeminate lavender swan?”
    “Why is it that saying a woman is like a man is usually positive, while calling anything masculine feminine is the kiss of