The gymnasium was a graveyard of fake tombstones and plastic skeletons.
Someone on the decorating committee had gone overboard with the fog machines, filling the space with swirling mist that caught the colored lights and turned everything into a fever dream. Students in costumes milled between attractions—a haunted house in the corner, a fortune teller's booth, a DJ spinning monster-themed music.
I entered through the side door, stakes hidden under my jacket, blood bag strapped to my ribs. Vicki was beside me, her costume a simple black dress that hid her pallor, her eyes scanning the crowd with barely-controlled hunger.
"Stay close," I murmured.
"I'm trying." Her voice was strained. "There's so many heartbeats. So much blood. It's overwhelming."
The bond flickered between us—weak, barely there, a thread instead of a chain. I'd given it one last renewal that afternoon, draining myself to the edge of unconsciousness. Stefan had caught me when I collapsed, forced water and food into me until I could function again.
Maybe twenty-four hours. Probably less.
Caroline found me within minutes, bouncing through the crowd in a witch costume that was probably supposed to be sexy.
"Matt! Finally!" She kissed my cheek. "I've been texting you for days. Is everything okay? You look terrible."
"Family stuff." The lie was becoming habit. "Vicki's been having a rough time."
Caroline glanced at my sister, who was standing rigid beside me, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
"Is she sick? She looks really pale."
"Something like that."
Before Caroline could push further, Elena appeared with Bonnie in tow. Stefan was somewhere behind them—I could feel his presence, the particular emptiness that registered where a heartbeat should be.
"Hey, Matt." Elena's smile was warm. "I heard Vicki was unwell. I hope she's feeling better."
"She's getting there."
Vicki made a small, strangled sound. Her eyes were fixed on Jeremy Gilbert, who was crossing the gymnasium dressed—ironically—as a vampire.
I felt the bond strain.
"Vicki. Look at me."
She turned, and I saw the veins starting to appear under her eyes. The hunger was winning.
"Breathe. Focus on my heartbeat. You're stronger than this."
The veins receded. Slightly.
"I need to step outside," she whispered. "Just for a minute. The air is too thick in here."
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral for the others. "I'll come with you."
"No. You'll draw attention." She squeezed my hand—cold, too strong, wrong. "I just need a minute alone."
Against every instinct, I let her go.
She made it three steps toward the exit before the bond snapped.
I felt it like a physical blow—the rubber band breaking, the chain dissolving, the connection between us severed completely. Vicki stumbled, caught herself, and when she turned back, her eyes were completely black.
"Vicki—"
She moved.
Vampire speed. Too fast to track, too fast to stop. One moment she was ten feet away, the next she had Jeremy Gilbert by the throat, dragging him toward the gymnasium's back exit.
"VICKI, NO!"
I sprinted after her, shoving through costumed students, abandoning any pretense of subtlety. Someone screamed. Someone else called for security. The fog machines continued pumping out mist, turning the pursuit into a nightmare of swirling white and colored lights.
Stefan intercepted me near the exit. "I've got a visual. She's heading for the parking lot."
"Jeremy—"
"Still alive. She's not feeding yet. She's running."
Running where? Running from what? The Vicki I knew was in there somewhere, fighting the hunger, trying to escape before she killed someone. But the monster Damon had made was stronger.
We burst through the back doors into the parking lot. Cars everywhere, shadows between them, the fog leaking out from the gymnasium into the October night.
A scream echoed from somewhere to my left. Jeremy's voice.
I ran toward it, blood bag in hand, feeling the liquid respond to my will. A stake formed in my palm, hardened to killing sharpness.
Please don't make me use this. Please, Vicki. Please.
Stefan was faster. He rounded a row of cars and disappeared into the darkness. I heard the sound of impact—vampires colliding—and then silence.
When I finally caught up, I found Stefan on the ground, blood leaking from a wound in his side. Vicki's nails. She was stronger than she should be—newborn strength combined with Damon's bloodline.
"She's gone," Stefan gasped. "Took Jeremy and ran. Toward the school."
I helped him up. His wound was already healing, but he was winded.
"Where would she go?"
"Somewhere private. Somewhere she can feed without interruption."
The roof. The basement. The auditorium.
A thousand hiding spots in a building full of students.
I activated the blood bag, letting the liquid spiral around my arm. It wouldn't be enough against a vampire, but it was all I had.
A small figure in a ghost costume appeared at my elbow. "Mister, why are you bleeding?"
I looked down. My palm was cut again—old habit, preparing for renewal that would never come. Blood dripped onto the pavement.
"Stay inside," I told the kid. "Get a teacher."
I didn't wait for a response.
The school doors were propped open for the party. I slipped inside, following sounds that might have been screams, might have been music, might have been my imagination.
Stefan caught up at the first intersection. "She doubled back. The auditorium."
We ran.
The auditorium was dark, lit only by emergency exit signs casting red pools across empty rows of seats. The stage was set for some Halloween performance—more tombstones, more fog, a backdrop painted with a haunted house.
And there, center stage, was my sister.
She had Elena Gilbert by the throat.
Not Jeremy. Elena. The doppelganger, the one whose face had launched a thousand supernatural disasters.
"Vicki." My voice echoed through the empty space. "Let her go."
Vicki's head turned toward me, her face a mask of hunger and confusion. The veins were fully visible now, her fangs extended, her eyes empty of anything human.
"Matt?" Her voice was a rasp. "I can't... I can't stop. The hunger. It's too strong."
"You can. You're stronger than this. Remember the training. Remember who you are."
"I don't know who I am anymore."
Elena whimpered, hands scrabbling at Vicki's grip. Stefan was circling, looking for an opening, but Vicki was positioned with her back to the wall. No angle for a clean intervention.
"You're Vicki Donovan," I said, stepping closer. "You're my sister. You hate mornings and love sour candy and you sing in the shower when you think no one's listening. You stayed up all night with me when Dad left. You covered for me when I broke Mom's favorite lamp. You're difficult and stubborn and I love you."
The words hit her. I saw it—a flicker of recognition, a moment where the human fought through the monster.
"Matty..."
"Let her go. We can figure this out together."
Her grip loosened. Elena gasped.
Then Damon's voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness.
"Finish it, Vicki. Drink deep. Become what you were meant to be."
His compulsion hit her—the original commands, the ones he'd planted before the bonfire, the hooks that had never been removed.
Vicki's fangs descended toward Elena's throat.
I threw the stake.
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