Now here, Damon thought smugly, is the good stuff.
It had taken awhile to find it. At first, Lifetime Solutions' offices seemed disappointingly reputable. There was a room full of caged lab rats, none of them growing fangs or second heads. The notes on their treatments were incomprehensible to Damon, just lists of experimental medications and reactions in highly technical jargon. The papers in the filing cabinets were similarly dull, and he hadn't been able to bypass the passwords to investigate the computers properly.
Everything seemed boringly, incomprehensibly normal. If Damon hadn't found a business card from this company in the pocket of one of those strange vampires, he would have dismissed it as completely ordinary.
Now he was standing in what was clearly the CEO's office. Bigger and more richly furnished than any of the others, with wide floor-to-ceiling windows and a large seating area. Damon had gone through the desk drawers, the cabinets at one side of the room, the coat closet in the corner. Nothing.
Nothing except that the top drawer of the desk seemed shallower than it ought to be. Damon jiggled it, then carefully tilted the drawer back and slid it forward. Just as he'd thought, there was a small keyhole at the top of the back of the drawer. A secret, locked compartment. Interesting.
The lock wasn't much of a challenge; lock picking was a skill Damon had learned centuries ago. Inside the compartment was a thick notebook bound in brown leather.
Damon quickly flipped through the pages, growing ever more curious. It seemed to be some kind of journal: part philosophical musings, part the record of a series of experiments.
There must be a way to improve with science what can be imperfectly wrought by magic, Damon read. My subjects begin to develop, then die without warning, their hearts bursting under their new stresses. Is there a way to strengthen the circulatory system and allow improved capacity? Multiple surgeries will be necessary.
Subject K4 showed promise, but the side effects of the adrenaline and stimulants were too great. Subject proved ungovernable and prone to uncontrollable fits of rage. After dismemberment of lab assistant, subject was destroyed.
"Subject K4 didn't want to bow down to you, did he, Doctor?" Damon muttered. The back of his neck was prickling uneasily as he read: There was something very, very wrong here. He flipped forward a few pages and read on.
After the deaths of the first batch of test subjects and the disaster of Subject K4, the doctor had adjusted the dosages and streamlined a course of surgeries, not just on the circulatory system but on the muscles, digestive system, brain, and even facial structure and teeth.
And, gradually, his experiments began to survive.
A high dose of iron and protein is necessary to combat the anemia that results from the new bone density. Is the traditional blood diet less mystical and more practical than previously thought?
Blood diet. Damon suddenly realized what he was reading. This person was trying to make vampires.
Trying, and apparently succeeding. As the doctor fine-tuned the surgeries and medications for his experiments, the pages Damon was reading became a record of triumphs.
As I had suspected, there is no reason but mysticism for the limitations of the natural vampire. By rerouting the circulatory system and adding a large dose of melanin to the initial medication, I have made my subjects impervious to the traditional methods of controlling their population: Subjects can walk easily in the sun and are not harmed by wood to the heart.
Nonphysical methods of identification proved more difficult at first to bypass. Test subjects were readily identified as unnatural by humans with highly developed senses: so-called "psychics" and "seers."
Auras, Damon thought. He's talking about people who can read auras, like Elena. The doctor had eventually found a way around this, too. Through intensive meditation and a high dosage of serotonin inhibitors, the lab-created vampires had managed to learn to hide or disguise their auras.
This, Damon thought, absently tapping the page with one finger, could be useful. He read on.
Finally, after so many trials and errors, the experiment has been an unqualified success. My subjects have all the advantages of the natural vampire: They do not appear to age or contract illnesses, they are stronger and faster than humans, they have highly developed senses. And yet I have been able to circumvent the disadvantages that keep natural vampires from being the perfect predators: Unlike their wild cousins, my subjects are not endangered by wood or sunlight. The time has come to move on to Stage B of the experiment.
Stage B? Damon flipped forward again and blinked in surprise at what he found. In the next stage of his experiment, the doctor had used the technique on himself. It made sense, Damon supposed. Certainly if he had created the ultimate predator, he wouldn't want to remain prey.
This didn't really explain why the doctor's lab-manufactured vampires had been coming after Damon, though. He kept reading.
To take dominance in the natural world, it is necessary to eliminate competitive species. The vampire has survived unchanged for too long; in some cases for thousands of years. These targets must be eliminated for my bold new world to be possible. The greatest threat to my new creations is their inspiration: the traditional vampire.
Turning one more page, Damon found two lists of names.
The first was Old Ones, he recognized immediately. First names only-the Old Ones came from a time before people needed more than one name. Klaus, Celine, Benevenuto, Alexander-Old Ones he knew Stefan and his friends had killed, each one crossed out in black ink. Other names he didn't recognize-Chihiro, Gunnar of the North, Milimo, Pachacuti-were crossed out in red.
Only one name remained unmarked: Solomon.
"You've been busy, Doctor Jekyll," Damon muttered, tracing over the red-crossed names with one finger.
The second list was much longer-and much worse. Many of these crossed-out names were vampires Damon knew.
Anne Grimmsdotir: a quiet, fierce girl who had wandered the North since the days of the Vikings. She didn't talk much, but she was graceful and quick.
Sophia Alexiou: beautiful, elegant Sophia, whom Damon had spent a Mediterranean winter with once, more than a century ago.
Abioye Ogunwale: Sharp-tongued and stubborn, he'd always been a gambler. He'd won Damon's favorite boots in a card game, back in the seventeenth century.
Damon stared at the names, an uncomfortable tightness growing in his chest. They hadn't been friends, these vampires-Damon didn't really make friends-but they were people Damon had met again and again over the course of a very long life. Old vampires, strong vampires, who'd hunted and traveled and survived for centuries. All of them murdered for a bold new world of man-made vampires?
Halfway down the page was written: Katherine von Swartzschild. It hadn't been crossed out yet. "Behind the times, Doctor," Damon said softly, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of her name.
At the bottom of the page, the last names on the list: Damon Salvatore. Stefan Salvatore. Dalcrest, Virginia.
Damon placed his hand flat on the book and took a breath, thinking hard.
There were very few people in the world about whom he gave a damn. Now that Katherine was dead, that list was pretty much limited to Elena and Stefan. If pushed, he might admit to a sentimental fondness for his little redbird Bonnie, and a grudging respect for Meredith, the hunter. And every single one of these people was in Dalcrest, Virginia.
Damon stuffed the book into the front of his coat pocket and slipped out of the lab, as silent as a shadow, almost as if he were already becoming a ghost.
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"A toast!" Alaric said, raising his glass high. "To the end of the Old Ones!" Everyone clinked their glasses as a wave of giddy laughter flooded Elena and Stefan's apartment. Wrapping her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, Elena looked around and smiled at their gathered friends.
It was hard to believe that a few hours ago they'd been in the dim, cold underground, unable to move. Elena had been so sure it was the end for all of them.
And then, in the midst of the cold, she'd felt a tiny spark of warmth. Bonnie's hand, where it touched her arm, was the only warm thing in the whole world. I'm here, Elena, she heard Bonnie say into her mind. Let me in. Focusing all her energy on that one spot, Elena had sent Power to Bonnie in a steady, thin stream. And Bonnie had freed Stefan.
Stefan's arms wrapped around her from behind, jarring her from the unsettling memory. He kissed her neck lightly, then laughed, more relaxed than Elena had seen him in a long, long time. We're free, he told her silently whenever their lips touched, we're free. You're safe.
Tomorrow they would make plans-head out to Europe to find Damon, and make sure he was safe. Then together they would wander Europe, all of it, the cobblestone streets of Stefan's past and the tall, glass cities of the modern age. Paris, Elena thought, remembering the time she had been there in high school, before she even met Stefan. It felt like a lifetime ago. She couldn't wait to go back and see it all again, with Stefan by her side.
Tomorrow they would begin the rest of their endless lives. But for now they were with their friends, and Elena was happy.
Even Trinity was with them, looking pale and thin, but alive.
Jack stood, and Trinity looked up at him, her gaze full of hero worship. I wonder if he'll tell her he was planning to kill her, part of Elena wondered, somewhat cynically.
Jack smiled widely and warmly around at them all. He was using his hunter's stave like a walking stick, resting his weight on it lightly. "To unlikely allies and unexpected friends," he said, raising his glass.
Elena joined in the toast and then felt her phone vibrate. She paused to discreetly fish it out of her bag and glance at the screen. It was a voice mail from Damon. Tentatively, she poked at the connection between them, and almost recoiled at the anxiety pulsing through their bond.
Before she could slip quietly out of the room, Jack walked over to her and Stefan, blocking her exit. "Stefan, you've been a huge help in this hunt," he said. Elena nudged Stefan with her foot, and they exchanged a private smile. She was pretty sure that Stefan had ended up leading the hunt, not just helping with it.
"I can't thank you enough," Stefan told Jack solemnly. "To know that all the threats we've been chasing for so long are gone at last. Elena and I are so happy."
"Almost all the threats," Jack said thoughtfully, and Elena's head snapped up at the new, darker tone in his voice. And then she saw, panicking, that Jack's aura was wrong. Rusty red, the color of dried blood, was running through the familiar warm brown, spreading like a web of veins. Elena opened her mouth to shout a warning, but she was too late.
Baring his teeth to show his elongated canines-and how could he be a vampire, Elena would have known, Stefan would have known-Jack moved, faster and smoother than Elena would have believed possible, and slammed his stave cleanly through Stefan's chest. Stefan gasped, a long, rattling gasp, then fell heavily to the floor. Jack ran out the door before Elena could even scream.
Elena fell to her knees as the room erupted into chaos around her. Alaric laid a hand on the stave to pull it from Stefan's chest but Meredith stopped him. "Pulling it out won't help," she said. "If it's still there, it might give him more time."
Elena only had eyes for Stefan, but he was blurry through her tears. "Hold on, Stefan," she said desperately, stroking his face. He muttered something and scrabbled at her arm, his fingers weak. "Bonnie!" Elena screamed. "Bonnie, can't you fix-?" Bonnie dropped to her knees beside them, her face white, but shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't think there's a spell for this-" she said frantically.
Elena reached for her Guardian Power and sent its golden light racing through Stefan, trying to heal what was broken. But the dark and cold radiating from the stake in his heart swallowed up the light as fast as she could feed it to him. He was sinking; she could feel it. He was slipping away.
Stefan's eyes were glazing over, and his grip on Elena's arm loosened. "No, no!" Elena was yelling, grabbing at him, trying to keep him with her. "Please, Stefan."
Tears were dripping off her face onto Stefan's, running over his pale cheeks. No, no, no, Elena's mind babbled frantically. Not like this; we're supposed to have forever together. Please. Please.
Stefan's eyes were moving beneath his lids, flicking from side to side. His breath rattled in his chest. His face was tight, almost fearful. Elena took his hand in hers and pressed her lips to his.
Her mind and Stefan's touched, the instant connection between them as strong as ever, and she wrapped him in her consciousness, trying to hold him, to keep him safe. She would never let him be afraid, not if she could help it.
But darkness and emptiness were spreading through him. Stefan, my love, my darling, she thought, please. That was all she could think of, protestations of love, pet names, and the single word please. Please stay with me, my darling one. Hang on. I love you. Her tears fell against his cold face, her lips warm against his cold ones.
Elena? His mind reached out for hers. He was disoriented, and she clung to him, trying to reassure him. It's all right, she thought desperately. It'll all be okay.
You can't save me, Elena. Stefan's thought was terribly sad, but there was no trace of fear in it. I'm so sorry. I thought we'd be safe. I thought we'd have our whole, long lives together. I wish there were time.
No! Don't go, Elena thought, pleading, frantic. Please, I can't let you go.
I don't want to. But be happy without me. Promise me you'll find a way to be happy.
Elena couldn't imagine ever being happy again. I promise, she thought, tears running down her face.
Believe in yourself. Trust your friends. He sounded terribly tired, but there was a warmth in his thoughts that felt like a smile. Never forget how much I love you. You deserve to be loved.
Elena choked back a sob. Stefan, you're the love of my life. My whole life. His consciousness brushed against hers like a caress.
The darkness that had infected Stefan rolled on, taking over more and more of him, as unstoppable as a tide. Elena held onto him, sending more of her Power through him, but the darkness swallowed it like a black hole, swallowed everything, until she was just lying with her arms around him, murmuring, Stefan, I love you, I love you, please ...
The dark tide rolled out, and took Stefan with it.
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