“Okay,” he said. “Don’t be gone long, though. We should all be sticking together right now.”
Elena frowned. “You’re probably the best one to figure out how to kill this vampire.”
Damon put a hand on Elena’s shoulder, and she leaned toward him. “I can handle the fake vampire,” he said smoothly. “Meredith should do what she has to do.”
It would be good to get away, Meredith thought. She had to get away before she hurt the people she loved.
She couldn’t live like this. Jack must know something. There had to be a way to undo what he had done to her. All she had to do was make him trust her.
Meredith left the next day, amid a flurry of a send-off. She kissed Alaric, hugged Elena and Bonnie and the others. Damon hung back, watching her with sharp, half-amused eyes. Meredith promised to touch base often, told them she’d let them know when she got to Atlanta. The whole time she concentrated on not breathing, to avoid catching anyone’s scent, and managed to keep herself from sinking her teeth into anyone’s throat.
Once she had driven a few miles away from home, Meredith pulled onto the shoulder to take a breath and let herself think.
“We can find out more by infiltrating Jack’s group than by capturing him,” Damon had said. “That’s where you come in.”
Licking her lips nervously, she reached into her bag and pulled out the business card she had found in her pocket that first terrible day, now creased and fuzzy at the edges. I can do this, she told herself. I am a hunter. It doesn’t matter if I’m afraid, I’ll still keep fighting. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed the number written on the card.
“It’s Meredith,” she said when Jack picked up. “You were right. Please. I have to see you.”
Jack’s hideout wasn’t far away. Following the directions he’d given her over the phone, Meredith found a road that ended outside a long-abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. She got out of the car, slamming the door behind her, and crunched her way across the gravel parking lot.
The warehouse was dilapidated, and there were no cars in the lot except hers. A fast-food wrapper blew across the ground in front of her. Everything was eerily silent.
It didn’t matter. She knew Jack was here.
The warehouse’s big metal door rattled when Meredith knocked on it. She could hear footsteps coming. When it opened, there stood Jack, his face carefully neutral.
“Meredith,” he said, a little warily.
“I still hate you,” Meredith said quickly. “You killed Stefan, and I can’t forgive that. But—” She paused, her heart pounding, uncomfortably aware that what she was about to say was only partially a lie. “I don’t belong anywhere else. I can’t—all I want to do is bite people. I need to be in a place where my friends are safe from me. I need to be away from them.”
There was a long pause while Jack looked her up and down, his mouth pursed. Meredith shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Could he tell that she had come to spy on him, that she and Damon were working together?
“Please,” she dropped her voice as if she was telling him a shameful secret. “You were right. It feels good. I didn’t—don’t—want to be a vampire, but physically, I feel alive for the first time in my life. I want you to show me what I’m capable of.”
Jack stared at her, his face unreadable. Meredith kept her eyes steady on his, trying to project sincerity and pleading. She needed him to believe her, or she’d lose all chance of finding a cure.
Jack frowned, and for a moment she thought he’d slam the heavy metal door in her face. But then his lips turned up in the warm smile she had loved, back when she thought he was her friend. “Come on in,” he said. “We’ve all been waiting.”
#TVD12MerediththeSpy
The trapped vampire let out a high, wordless shriek and tried to scrabble away from Damon, his chains clanging against the bars of his cage. Streams of gasoline ran down his legs, leaving long, wet patches on his clothes. Elena gritted her teeth and kept herself from looking away. This was important. This was to avenge Stefan, to save Damon. Besides, she thought wearily, he would be healed again in a matter of seconds.
“Stop fighting,” Damon said, his voice flat. The young vampire kicked at him, but Damon grabbed hold of his leg through the bars and pinned it for a moment as the vampire tried to twist away. “Hand me the lighter, Elena.”
Holding her breath to keep from inhaling the fumes, Elena reluctantly pulled the lighter from her pocket and handed it over, then backed a few steps away, watching them nervously. Damon flicked it and reached through the bars to touch the flame to the edge of the vampire’s pant leg.