Six days of silence.
Vicki was home, physically present, but the compulsion made her a stranger in her own body. I watched her wander the trailer like a sleepwalker, drawn toward windows that faced the direction of the cemetery, her fingers constantly reaching for a phone that I'd hidden.
The vervain tea helped a little. Every morning, I made sure she drank a full cup of the bitter blend I'd been brewing since June—the same recipe that had accidentally protected her before the bonfire. It couldn't undo what Damon had already planted in her mind, but it prevented new commands from taking root.
Small mercies.
Stefan checked in daily, appearing at odd hours with information about Damon's movements. The older Salvatore had gone quiet—no attacks, no appearances, no contact. Just silence that felt worse than violence.
"He's waiting," Stefan said on the third night. "Letting you stew. He wants you off-balance before his next move."
"When does he move?"
"When it hurts the most."
The answer came on September 25th.
I'd locked Vicki's window after finding her sleepwalking toward it for the fourth time. I'd hidden her car keys. I'd done everything I could think of to keep her contained.
It wasn't enough.
I came home from the Grill at midnight to find the back door open and Vicki gone.
No.
My hands found my phone, dialing Stefan before conscious thought caught up.
"She's gone. The compulsion took her again."
"I'll meet you at the boarding house. That's where he'd bring her."
The drive was a blur of dark roads and darker thoughts. I'd spent three months preparing for vampires, and Damon had still outmaneuvered me at every turn. My blood could heal wounds but not compulsion. My stakes could slow vampires but not stop them. Everything I'd built was crumbling.
Stefan's Porsche was already at the boarding house when I arrived. We searched together—room by room, floor by floor, the massive Victorian structure revealing nothing but shadows and old furniture.
Zach Salvatore met us in the kitchen at 2 AM, nervous and helpful in equal measure. The older human had made coffee, hands shaking as he poured.
"Damon brought a girl here earlier tonight," he said. "I heard them on the second floor. Then they left—maybe an hour ago."
"Where did they go?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry. I stay out of his way as much as possible."
The coffee was bitter and too hot. I drank it anyway, grateful for something to do with my hands.
Stefan found Vicki's phone in the cellar—dropped or deliberately left, I couldn't tell. A single text message from Damon lit up the screen:
She's not dead. Yet. But your little light show in the cemetery was entertaining. I'll be in touch, blood boy.
I stared at the message until the screen went dark.
"He's enjoying this," Stefan said quietly. "Every day you spend worrying is a day he wins. That's how Damon operates—the psychological torture is as satisfying as the physical."
"Then what do I do?"
"Wait. Prepare. Be ready when he makes his move." Stefan's expression was grim. "He wants attention. If you chase him, you're giving him what he wants. If you wait, you take back control."
It was sound advice. I hated every word of it.
We searched the grounds until dawn—the gardens, the outbuildings, the woods surrounding the property. Nothing. Damon had taken Vicki somewhere else, somewhere we couldn't reach.
The sun rose over the Salvatore boarding house, painting the Victorian architecture in shades of gold and rose. Beautiful. Indifferent to the horrors it sheltered.
"You should sleep," Stefan said. "Use one of the guest rooms. I'll keep watch."
"I can't sleep knowing she's—"
"You can't help her exhausted either." He steered me toward the stairs. "A few hours. Then we'll figure out our next move."
I collapsed onto a dusty bed in a room that smelled of old wood and forgotten time. Sleep came despite my resistance, dragging me under with dreams of red eyes and endless fog.
When I woke, the sun had shifted. Afternoon light streamed through the windows.
My phone showed three missed calls from Caroline.
I called her back, forcing normalcy into my voice. "Hey. Sorry I missed you."
"Where are you? You weren't at school, and Vicki's not at work, and Elena said something about—"
"Family emergency. Vicki's not feeling well. I'm with her."
"Is she okay?"
She's been kidnapped by a vampire who's using her to torture me.
"She'll be fine. Just needs rest. I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"Okay." Caroline's voice softened. "I love you. Tell Vicki I hope she feels better."
"I will."
The words stuck in my throat as I hung up. Caroline was safe—her bracelet still protected her, the vervain in her system still active. But how long until Damon found another way to reach her? Another weakness to exploit?
Stefan appeared in the doorway. "Damon called. Said he'll release Vicki tonight. He sounded... satisfied."
Satisfied about what?
The answer came six hours later, when my sister stumbled through the front door of the trailer looking like death.
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