Stefan drove like the immortal he was—ninety miles per hour on winding back roads, cornering with impossible precision. My truck would have rolled twice on the first turn. The Porsche hugged the asphalt like it was welded there.
"You said you don't know where your powers came from." His voice was calm, conversational, like we were discussing the weather instead of supernatural abilities. "But you've clearly been training. That level of control doesn't happen by accident."
"I figured out the basics a few months ago. Spent the summer practicing."
"In secret?"
"Would you announce it if you suddenly developed blood manipulation?"
He acknowledged the point with a slight nod. "Fair enough."
The forest blurred past, dark shapes barely visible in the Porsche's headlights. We were heading toward the old part of town, where the founding family estates sprawled across acres of Virginia wilderness.
"Why help me?" I asked. "Damon's your brother."
Stefan's jaw tightened. "Damon's my burden. There's a difference."
"That's not an answer."
For a long moment, he was silent. The speedometer climbed past a hundred.
"145 years ago, Damon and I were human. We both fell in love with the same woman—a vampire named Katherine Pierce. She turned us against our will, set us on a path of destruction, and then disappeared."
Katherine. The one Damon thinks is in the tomb.
"For over a century, Damon has been searching for a way to free her from the tomb beneath Fell's Church. He's killed, manipulated, and destroyed countless lives in pursuit of that goal." Stefan's voice was flat, emotionless. "I've spent the same century trying to minimize the damage."
"And Vicki?"
"Vicki is leverage. Against Elena, against you, against anyone who might interfere with his plans." Stefan glanced at me. "He was fixated on Caroline until you blocked him. Now he's found a new target. Someone who was already under his control."
The compulsion from the bonfire. Still active because it happened before the vervain.
"How do we break the compulsion?"
"You don't. Not without killing the vampire who placed it." Stefan's expression was grim. "Even I can't undo Damon's commands. Our blood is too similar."
"So we kill Damon?"
"We can't." The admission seemed to cost him. "He's older than me, stronger, and I can't bring myself to destroy my own brother, no matter what he's done."
"Then what's the plan?"
"We find Vicki before he does something irreversible. We convince him to release her. Or we make him think keeping her is more trouble than it's worth."
The Salvatore boarding house emerged from the darkness—a massive Victorian structure, all turrets and gingerbread trim, illuminated by scattered lights behind heavy curtains.
Stefan parked at the end of the driveway. "He'll know we're here the moment we enter. Probably knew the moment we turned onto the property."
"Then let's not keep him waiting."
I climbed out of the Porsche, my hand finding the stakes hidden in my jacket. The motion felt natural now—reach, grip, ready. Three months of training converting nervous gestures into combat reflexes.
"Your abilities." Stefan stood beside me, studying the house. "How far can you push them?"
"Defensive, mostly. I can form weapons, throw projectiles. But I can't match vampire speed, and sustained combat exhausts me faster than I'd like."
"Honest assessment. That's rare."
"Lying about my limits would get me killed."
Stefan almost smiled. "There might be hope for you yet."
He offered me something—a small vial of dark liquid that caught the moonlight. "My blood. If you're injured, drink it. You'll heal."
"I have my own methods."
His eyebrows rose, but he didn't push. He pocketed the vial and turned toward the house.
"Stay behind me when we go in. Damon will want to talk before he acts—he loves an audience. Don't give him an excuse to escalate."
"And if he's already hurt Vicki?"
Stefan's expression hardened. "Then we'll deal with the consequences."
We walked toward the boarding house together—an 163-year-old vampire and a transmigrated blood mage, united by circumstance against a common enemy. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Three months ago, I'd been dying at a desk in a life that didn't matter. Now I was storming a vampire's lair to rescue my sister from compulsion.
Progress.
The front door was unlocked. Stefan pushed it open, and the smell of old wood and older secrets washed over us.
"Damon!" Stefan's voice echoed through the foyer. "I know you're here. Let's end this game."
Silence.
Then, from somewhere deep in the house, a slow clap.
"Brother." Damon's voice drifted down from the upper floors. "And the blood mage. I was wondering how long the heroic rescue would take."
Stefan started up the stairs. I followed, hands ready, blood singing through my veins.
The boarding house was a maze of corridors and antique furniture, every shadow potentially hiding a threat. We climbed to the second floor, then the third, following Damon's voice.
We found him in what looked like a study—leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fire crackling in the hearth. Vicki sat in one of the chairs, staring at nothing, her expression blank.
"She's fine," Damon said, lounging against the mantle. "Physically, anyway. Mentally, she's been mine since the bonfire. Your little healing trick didn't change that."
"Let her go, Damon." Stefan positioned himself between his brother and me. "She's not part of whatever game you're playing."
"But she is." Damon's smile widened. "She's a message. To little Matt here, to his vervain network, to everyone in this town who thinks they can interfere with my plans."
"What do you want?" I stepped forward, past Stefan's protective stance. "This isn't about Vicki. Tell me what you want, and maybe we can deal."
Damon's eyebrows rose. "The busboy wants to negotiate. How refreshing."
"You want Katherine out of the tomb. I know about the tomb. I know about the Bennett witch's seal. Maybe I know things that could help."
Bluffing. I'm bluffing with everything I have.
But Damon's expression flickered—just for a moment, calculation replacing cruelty.
"Interesting," he said slowly. "The blood mage knows about Katherine. About the tomb. How wonderfully unexpected."
"Let Vicki go. I'll tell you what I know."
"Or I could just torture it out of you."
"Try it." I let blood seep from my palm, forming into a sphere that hovered between us. "I survived one encounter tonight. I'll survive another. And every time you fail, I learn a little more about how you fight."
Stefan shot me a look that suggested I'd lost my mind. Damon looked... intrigued.
"I like you, Matt Donovan." He stepped away from the mantle. "You've got exactly the kind of desperate stupidity that makes life interesting. Tell you what—we'll table this discussion for now. Take your sister. She'll be useless to me once I've made my point."
"Your point being?"
"That I can take whatever I want, whenever I want." He gestured toward Vicki. "The compulsion stays. Consider it insurance. If you interfere with my plans again, I'll use her to hurt everyone you love. Starting with the pretty blonde."
I wanted to throw every stake I had at his heart. Instead, I walked to Vicki's chair and helped her stand.
"This isn't over," I said.
"No." Damon's smile was almost genuine. "I suspect we're just getting started."
Stefan escorted us out of the boarding house, his expression troubled. As we loaded Vicki into my truck, he caught my arm.
"That was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."
"Probably both."
"He'll come after you again. You know that."
"I know." I climbed into the driver's seat. "But tonight, Vicki goes home. That's what matters."
Stefan watched us drive away, a silhouette against the lights of the boarding house.
An 163-year-old vampire and a transmigrator blood mage. Temporary allies against a common enemy.
The drive home was quiet. Vicki slept in the passenger seat, exhausted from whatever Damon had done to her. The compulsion was still active—I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, reaching for something invisible.
I can't undo it. But I can protect her from acting on it.
The trailer appeared out of the darkness. Home. Safety. At least for tonight.
I carried Vicki inside and put her to bed, then sat in the kitchen until dawn.
Damon Salvatore knew about my powers. He knew about my protection network. And he'd promised retaliation.
The war had escalated.
But Vicki was alive, and that was all that mattered.
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