“Use your teeth, idiot,” he muttered. He didn’t know how Jack chose his minions, but it wasn’t for their brains. Or, Meredith excepted, their fighting skill.
A voice came from behind him. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Damon turned. Jack was lightly poised on the balls of his feet, his eyes tracking Damon’s every move. He wasn’t underestimating Damon as an opponent, not anymore.
With a burst of energy, Damon charged, canines extended. He slammed into Jack, and they both fell heavily to the floor.
Sinking his teeth into Jack’s throat, Damon grappled with him, trying to keep him down as the strange taste of Jack’s blood filled his mouth. Damon grimaced in disgust, but kept biting, working his teeth back and forth in Jack’s throat to reopen the wound before it had time to heal. Jack grunted in pain and thrashed beneath Damon’s weight, but Damon had him pinned.
The chemical-laden blood was flooding into his mouth, and Damon swallowed rapidly, gulping it down despite the taste. Blood would make him stronger, and he desperately needed that if he was going to defeat Jack. Damon felt almost lightheaded with it, fireworks bursting behind his eyes.
Damon drew back to get his hands on the syringe, pulling his canines from Jack’s neck. Jack twisted and thrashed, bucking up and finally throwing Damon off. Damon rolled backward, crashing into the crate behind him.
Jack leaped to his feet in one smooth, controlled motion, his face twisted with rage. Then he froze, looking past Damon. “Siobhan?” he asked. There was a note of fear in his voice, the first Damon had ever heard from him.
“Hello, Jack.” Siobhan’s voice came from behind, cool and mocking, but Damon didn’t turn to look at her. This was his chance.
He pulled the syringe from his pocket. The liquid inside shimmered dark blue in the light of the warehouse. He began to inch toward Jack.
Jack suddenly gave a cut-off shout as his body flew backward like a rag doll’s and slammed into the warehouse wall. Suspended there, his feet dangled above the floor. His hands were pressed backward, flat against the wall. He was straining, the tendons in his neck visibly taut. He couldn’t move.
For a moment, Damon was stunned into stillness himself. Then he felt Elena’s concentration, her triumph coming through the bond. Being near Siobhan must have woken up her Powers. Damon glanced at Elena. Her hands were up, palms out, as if she was holding Jack in place, and her eyes were bright with intensity.
“Give it to me. I want to do it,” Elena muttered, and Damon snapped back into action.
He took two steps toward her and slapped the syringe into her palm. Let Elena have this kill. If finishing Jack would give her some peace, help her find solace for Stefan’s murder, then Damon would gladly give it to her.
Still holding Jack in place, Elena stepped forward and jammed the needle into Jack’s neck. As she pushed the plunger on the hypodermic, she smiled, a sharp, angry smile—no joy in it, but a great deal of satisfaction. From behind them, Siobhan began to laugh.
Jack blinked. And then he began to struggle, his head banging back against the wall and his arms coming up to grasp at Elena. Her hold on him must be slipping.
Damon ran forward and tackled him away, ripping his hands off of Elena. They fell to the ground together and rolled, Jack tearing at Damon with hands and teeth. He was as strong as ever.
It hadn’t worked, Damon realized, filling with heavy dread, as he felt blood run down his side. It hadn’t worked. Damon slammed Jack’s head against the concrete floor and snarled with rage and frustration.
Damon gasped and lost his focus on Jack, who kicked him away. A stake drove through his ribs from behind. They hadn’t hit the heart, though, he realized dazedly, or he’d already be dead. He tried to sit up as he heard Jack get to his feet, his footsteps quickly moving away.
Siobhan stood over Damon, her bloodred lips curled in a smile. “I wouldn’t give you a real poison, you fool,” she said coldly. “I love him. No one will kill him but me.”
From behind her came a growl of fury. Siobhan gasped, her face distorting with pain, and arched backward, her blue eyes wide and startled. Fresh red blood spread across the front of her stained white nightgown. Pulling the stake from his own back, Damon realized the tip of another stake was protruding from Siobhan’s chest.
This one, though, hadn’t missed the heart. Siobhan, her eyes suddenly blank, fell, her black hair spreading out around her. Behind her, with the face of an avenging angel, stood Elena.
Climbing to his feet, Damon caught Elena and pulled her against him. Her heart was beating hard, he could feel it pounding against him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said, sounding dazed. “Are you all right? She staked you.”
Jack was nowhere to be seen—he must have escaped when Siobhan staked Damon. But Damon managed to arrange his face into a smile. “It takes more than a stake to take me down, princess.” His back was aching horribly, and he could feel blood running down between his shoulder blades, soaking his shirt.
Scuffling footsteps came from behind them, and Damon wheeled around to see the others coming back, supporting Matt, who leaned heavily on Alaric. Jasmine was trying to check his vitals as she hurried beside them.
“The vampires are starting to wake up,” Meredith said sharply. “We have to go. Did the poison work?”
Damon held Elena closer. “No.” He could feel her shock and despair resonating through the bond, echoing his own. This had been their only chance. Siobhan had lied—and they had lost their chance to take vengeance for Stefan.
Jack was gone. They were no closer to finding a way to kill him, and their one lead had turned out to be worse than useless.
They had failed.
Chapter 29
Bonnie clutched Matt’s hand, trying to hold him steady as Jasmine steered the car around a curve. Fresh blood was staining the bandage on his neck, and Bonnie’s stomach turned over. His neck had looked like a piece of raw meat.
“He’s bleeding again,” she told Jasmine, her voice thin.
Jasmine’s eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror. “Put pressure on it. We’re almost there.”
Bonnie took a cloth from the seat beside her and pushed it firmly against Matt’s neck. He gave a small pained grunt, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Sorry, so sorry. Is this right?”
“You’re doing great,” Jasmine told her.
Matt shifted, blinking his eyes open. “M’okay,” he muttered.
“Sure you are, cowboy,” Jasmine told him. “Just take it easy.” At the sound of her voice, Matt’s face relaxed, and his eyes fluttered shut again.
Jasmine pulled the car into a spot near the front door of Elena and Damon’s apartment building, and Meredith came around to the car to help Matt.
“Get the IV drip and the cooler of blood bags from the trunk, okay?” Jasmine asked Bonnie before she and Meredith hurried, supporting Matt, toward the front door, which Elena was already holding open.
Matt was in good hands, Bonnie thought, swinging open the trunk. Jasmine wasn’t a fighter or magical, but she was scarily efficient. The pole for the IV was in a couple of different pieces—light, made of hollow aluminum, but awkward to carry—and Bonnie had to gather them together a couple of times before she got them tucked securely under one arm and was able to pick up the cooler with the blood bags and the tubing with the other. Everyone else had disappeared into Elena and Damon’s apartment building by the time Bonnie slammed the trunk and headed inside.
Her steps faltered for a moment. When had she started thinking of it as Elena and Damon’s building, not Elena and Stefan’s? Sorrow shot through her, and she suddenly missed Stefan so much.
And now the man—no, the vampire—who’d killed him had gotten away. Bonnie swallowed back her tears, clutching the IV pole. They’d saved Matt. He was hurt, but they’d gotten him out of there. That was the most important thing.
Upstairs, Matt was lying on the couch, and Jasmine immediately got to work setting up the drip. “He lost a lot of blood, but that’s the worst of his injuries,” she said. “He’s going to be fine.” There were dried tear tracks on her cheeks, but her fingers were sure as they moved across the medical equipment.
“We’re back to square one, aren’t we?” Elena asked dismally from her chair near the couch. “Jack and his vampires can’t be killed, and he’ll keep coming after us.”
“He wants Damon dead,” Meredith said flatly, “and he wants me back at his side.”
Alaric put his arm around her, and she leaned against him, her dark head on his shoulder. “Maybe we should cut our losses and stop hunting him,” he said hesitantly. “It might be better to concentrate on keeping away from Jack if we don’t have a chance of killing him.”
“I agree,” Jasmine said, pausing with an IV needle in her hand. “We need to lay low. Matt could have been killed. Any of us could have.”
“We’re not giving up.” Meredith said, her jaw set. Elena nodded.
There was an uneasy silence. Jasmine was glaring down at her hands as she neatly set up the IV and began to rebandage Matt’s wounds. Matt moaned softly, and Bonnie saw him flinch, his eyes still firmly closed, but his lashes fluttering. He looked so vulnerable. She was used to thinking of Matt as tough, despite the fact that he was the most human of them.