Without Stefan, it’s like I’m dead, too.
A key rattled in the lock of the front door, and Elena looked up from her computer screen to see Damon coming in. The cold apartment warmed a bit, as if the sleek, dark-haired vampire had brought some of the late summer breeze into the air-conditioned room. He seemed to get smaller as he came in, though, hunching his shoulders. Through the bond between them, Elena sensed his wistful ache at finding himself once again surrounded by Stefan’s possessions, resenting the reminder that his brother was gone.
“You’ve been feeding,” she commented, looking at the near-human flush of his cheeks.
“If you want to call it that. ” Damon curled his lip in disgust. “Stefan’s animal diet is utterly vile, just as I always suspected. ”
Elena flinched, and Damon glanced up, his face falling. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t—” She could see her own pain at the mention of Stefan reflected in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head hard. “You should be able to say his name, he’s your brother. I just—” Tears were rising up in her eyes again, and she willed them back. She needed to stop crying.
Damon took her hand, his fingers cool and smooth. “I promise you that Jack will pay,” he said quietly, his eyes as dark as night. “Whatever it takes. ”
A wave of panic hit Elena, knocking the breath out of her, and she clutched Damon’s hand between hers. “No,” she said. “Damon, you have to be careful. Even if it means letting Jack go. ”
Damon stiffened, his dark eyes fixed on hers. “We promised each other we would take vengeance on Jack,” he said firmly. “We owe it to Stefan. ”
Elena shook her head. “I can’t lose you, too. ” She hated the weak waver in her voice, but she straightened her shoulders and looked at Damon levelly, her face resolute. Sometimes it felt like Damon’s presence was the thin barrier between her and madness. Damon was the only one who understood, who’d really loved Stefan as deeply as she had.
Every night, she heard Damon’s soft footfalls pacing through the apartment, living room to kitchen to hall, hesitating sometimes outside her bedroom but never coming in, even when she yearned for his comfort. Guarding her as he wandered, and also pacing out the slow beats of his own sorrow, unable to settle. The thought of Damon falling like Stefan had, his handsome face suddenly blank and still, made Elena’s heart pound frantically. “Please, Damon,” she begged.
His eyes softening, Damon sighed and brushed a finger gently over her knuckles, then pulled his hand back quickly, his jaw tightening. “I won’t do anything foolish. Remember, I’m good at taking care of myself. ”
Elena started to nod gratefully, then paused as she thought through what he’d said. He hadn’t promised to stay out of danger, not really. “You can’t kill anyone,” she reminded him stubbornly. “The Guardians told you, if you kill anyone, I’ll die. So there’s not much point in looking for revenge. ”
Damon smiled without humor, his features sharp. “Vampires aren’t human,” he said. “I can kill Jack, and I will. ”
Elena let go of his hand. Damon would never stop hunting Jack.
Damon would die on this hunt, she was sure of it. And then Elena would truly have nothing.
Chapter 3
Damon paced across Elena’s living room, glaring at the afternoon sunlight stretching through the windows and across the floor. When he’d woken from his restless sleep an hour earlier, the apartment had already been empty.
Brushing his fingers across his chest absently, he let Elena’s emotions thrum through the bond between them. Nothing had changed; he still felt the same sharp, angry grief that had brought him back to Dalcrest, that had let him know his brother was dead. But nothing new. Wherever Elena had gone, she wasn’t in danger.
He ached to be out hunting Jack, to find him and tear him apart. Rage burned under his skin—how dare anyone touch his little brother. Even when he and Stefan had hated each other, no one else had been allowed to hurt him.
But for now, Damon was keeping a low profile, guarding Elena, waiting for the right time.
Meredith had tried laying down the law to him after Stefan’s funeral. “As far as Jack knows, you’re still in Europe,” she’d said. “We need to keep it that way. You might be the best weapon we’ve got. ”
Every line of the gray-eyed hunter’s body had been tense with irritation at having to ask Damon for something; and under other circumstances, this would have amused him. Meredith had no right to tell him what to do, and he had no reason to do what she asked.
But then Elena, with a desperate pleading look in her eyes, had said, “Please, Damon. I can’t lose you, too. ” And Damon had agreed to do whatever she wanted.
He sighed and sat down on the couch, glancing around. He was beginning to loathe this room, pretty as it was, with its heavy antique furniture and art on the walls. It was decorated to Stefan’s taste: dark, traditional, cozy. Stefan’s taste, Stefan’s possessions, Stefan’s Elena.
On the table beside the couch lay a thick notebook bound in brown leather: Jack’s journal, the record of the series of experiments he had done to create his new race of vampires. Damon had found it when he’d infiltrated Jack’s company in Switzerland.
Near the end was a list of vampires Jack had destroyed—and a list of those he still planned to hunt down. Damon picked up the journal and turned to the long column of names. Many were vampires Damon had known over the years, their names scratched through. Near the bottom of the page, three names, not yet crossed out: Katherine von Swartzchild. Damon Salvatore. Stefan Salvatore.
Damon traced the names lightly with his finger, remembering how Katherine’s face had paled as her life ebbed away. He felt again the sudden spike of anguished horror from Elena that had told him Stefan was dead. At least Damon had stolen the book before Jack had the opportunity to cross out their names.
Clenching his jaw, he flipped forward through its pages again. If he couldn’t just go out and hunt Jack down—yet—he could still look for clues on how to defeat him.
But there was nothing new written here. He’d gone through it dozens of times. After a few minutes, he groaned softly and closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub his temples.