“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jack said when she got close enough. He held his hands out, loose and open, nonthreatening.
“Oh, yeah?” Meredith halted a few feet away from him. “Good to know.”
“I worked far too hard on you to just waste it all.” The corners of Jack’s eyes crinkled as he gave his familiar affable grin. “Plus, I’m rather fond of you, despite your betrayal.”
Something inside Meredith curdled, thick and sour. He was fond of her? Jack had destroyed her.
“So, let me make you a deal.” Jack boosted himself up to sit on the hood of Meredith’s car, perfectly relaxed. “Bring me Damon Salvatore and I’ll forgive you. The whole thing, erased. You can come back to us, back where you belong. You know living with humans isn’t working.”
Meredith froze, glaring at him. Did Jack really think that, after everything, she wanted to be one of them?
Jack paused, looking at her with his bright, inquisitive brown eyes, and then shook his head. “Take the deal, Meredith,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll come after your friends. I always get what I want.”
“Go to hell,” Meredith snarled. She clutched the stake in her pocket and gauged the distance between them, her muscles tensing. He was so relaxed on the car’s hood, not alert to danger. If she moved fast enough…
Jack smiled at her, his big, beautiful, warm smile. “Go to hell?” he echoed, his tone light. “This whole world is hell, Meredith, you should know that by now. The only choice is whether you’re a demon or a victim.”
His grin widened, and he leaned back on his hands, turning his face up to the sun. “You know which side you’re on, don’t you?”
Now. Yanking the stake from her pocket, Meredith lunged at him.
And, suddenly, Jack moved so fast that all she saw was a blur. Her hair lifted in the breeze as he passed.
He was gone.
Dear Diary,
I shouldn’t be enjoying anything about this.
We’re in serious trouble. Jack won’t stop sending his vampires after us until either we kill him or he kills Damon. He’s powerful and relentless, and I know how intelligent he is—he fooled us all.
When I close my eyes, sometimes I see Damon falling, a stake through his chest, and it feels so real. I can see the pain in the tight lines of Damon’s body, the blood streaming from the wound. Agony rips through me—I’m losing something I thought was mine, that I thought was forever.
It feels just like when Stefan died.
Our search for Siobhan is the slenderest of leads. I should be panicking. Damon is in terrible danger.
And I should be grieving for Stefan just as hard as I was a month ago.
Nothing has changed. If anything, things have gotten worse.
And yet…
Elena glanced up from her journal toward the driver’s seat.
Damon was driving, his long, strong fingers curled around the wheel, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. He was so beautiful, Elena thought, examining the fine bones under his flawless pale skin, the soft curve of his mouth, the straight line of his nose. He glanced at her, and his lips curled into a brief smile before his eyes went back to the road. A pulse of affection went through the bond between them, and Elena wasn’t sure whom it had come from.
Damon hums when he doesn’t know I’m listening, she wrote, turning back to her journal. Tunes I don’t recognize, dances and holy music from the long centuries he lived in Europe, but other things, too: the ballet music Margaret dances to, old Beatles songs, pop from the radio.
Even though he technically died centuries ago, Damon’s more alive than most people. I remember what Stefan said, back when he first told me their story.
After they rose and realized what they had become, Stefan ran, horrified, far beyond the city gates, preying on animals for fear of harming humans. Damon joined a band of mercenaries, fighting his way across Europe, drinking human blood amid the slaughter and confusion of battle.
Stefan made the noble choice. Damon was wicked, then. But Stefan held himself apart from humanity, caring too much to endanger them by coming close. Damon was right there in the thick of it, always, and it’s kept him almost human, tangled up with our warm bodies and complicated, messy emotions.
I loved Stefan so much, with all my heart. I still love him. I’ll never stop.
Damon is flawed and quick tempered and selfish. He’s as likely to do the wrong thing as he is the right one.
Damon and I are more alike than Stefan and I ever were. I’m spoiled and headstrong, and I want everyone to fall in line with my plans. The worst things anyone ever said about me are sometimes true.
And despite everything—despite Jack, and poor Meredith, and everyone depending on the slimmest chance that we’re following the right lead here—I’m having fun. It feels easy and natural, gliding along the roads together, hunting for Siobhan.