Chapter Text
Damon’s heart was pulsing, thudding in his ears. He was panting, running, each step like a thunder clap as he raced across the old summer camp. Sweat was soaking his clothes to his skin and every muscle in his body was aching, but he couldn’t even dare to think about stopping. Not when that maniac in the plague doctor mask was still behind him, chasing him around with a friggin’ machete.
Seriously, who used a machete as a murder weapon?!
This whole mess started as a stupid spring break vacation; Stefan’s idea. They’d decided to go visit their old friends, the Mikaelsons, who had bought this dump of an old summer camp for some reason, hoping to revamp it as camping grounds or something.
Who cares, really? All Damon knew was that his friend Kol was dead, as was his sister Rebekah. Kol’s girlfriend Davina had run off, distraught, and his older brother Klaus and his friend Marcel were both in the wind. The aforementioned Stefan had taken Caroline for some romantic walk in the woods (cuz nothing said romance like poison ivy and mosquito bites, right?), and Bonnie was probably dead too, because he’d seen that axe go right through her. He didn’t even want to think about the others that came with.
That left him as the only non-missing, living person in this Godforsaken hellhole, because yeah, everyone was gone. Even Damon’s best friend Enzo and girlfriend Elena. He was worried beyond belief that this psychopath had gotten to them too, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
He just had to keep running. Wet grass crunched beneath his feet as he swerved between the rustic, rundown cabins and the unlit fire pit, haphazard stones and scorched kindling causing him to jump to remain on his feet.
All the while he heard the steady grunting and panting of the sociopathic machete-wielder behind him, drawing ever closer. If he made it out of this alive, Damon was going to kill Stefan for planning this stupid trip.
And if Elena was dead, he was going to bring Stefan back from the dead and kill him again. Rinse and repeat for each of their friends. But for now, he had to focus on keeping his feet underneath him and his head on his shoulders…and all of his blood in his veins.
He was burning out of energy fast, but if he found a decent hiding place, he could recharge and then kill the bastard after him. But not before seeing who was behind that mask. Not after looking right into the face of the person who was chasing him down, who had probably slaughtered everyone he knew, because there was no way everyone was alive after the amount of blood he found in Rebekah’s room with her body, nor the bloody jacket in Marcel’s.
Not to mention the fact that Kol was already dead. His body was mangled almost beyond recognition; no wonder Davina had run off.
Still, Damon couldn’t dwell on that right now. No, he had to run. He had to THINK. He could pull that trick in the lake with a canoe and an underwater air pocket, but that would mean he couldn’t keep an eye out for the killer; it was too compromising of a spot.
He could hide in the woods. He could find a shadowy ditch with a lot of tree and shrub coverage and pray he was camouflaged well enough, but that felt like something a character in a horror movie would do: the kind of character that got killed in the first five minutes, before the friggin’ intro even happened.
No, Damon wasn’t too eager to be added to the kill count. But hey, the night was still young.
Frantically, he made a split second decision to just go hide in Klaus’ cabin and hope the older man was around there somewhere…though it seemed like wishful thinking. Klaus was probably floating face down in the swimming pool, or dangling from the maw of a rabid brown bear in the woods.
Who freaking knew?!?
He switched directions and veered towards the biggest of the cabins, the one Klaus normally shared with his girlfriend Cami, except that she was down in the nearby town for a couple of days, visiting her sick uncle. Lucky her; she’d get to come back and find all of their butchered bodies.
…Unless she was the killer…
Too lost in thought, Damon tripped on the rotting wood planks of the porch outside Klaus’ cabin, and he hit his knees hard. Splinters lodged in his jeans and the palms of his hands. Great. He really should’ve been paying better attention. Cursing every deity under the sun, Damon got to his feet and tried to gather his speed back up as he reached for the door to the cabin, but a hand grabbed his shoulder, hot breath beating down the back of his neck.
He was out of time.
He was hit with the primal, instinctual need to lash out with his fists and fight tooth and nail to get free from this maniac, to find his girl and take her far away from here. But he was tired. It was bone deep and weary, cutting through his whole being and draining through him like water down a drain.
He was sweaty and tired and bruised and bloody, and he was done running. If he died now…well, they couldn’t say he’d never tried. He’d made it this long after all. So when the figure pulled back on the cuff of his shirt and threw him off the porch, back onto the dewy lawn (soon to be slick with his blood), he just braced for the impact.
Damon stared up at the night sky, the moon absent in the dark cloud cover overhead. The trees framed his view, the tips of evergreens and pines glistening in dim starlight. If this was the last thing he ever saw, well it could be worse.
He was just glad that he was being ended now. This way, Elena could still be alive. Enzo too, maybe. He’d never found them, so he had nothing to prove him otherwise. Nothing to change this steady comfort, this peace of mind, that the two people he cared about most might still be fighting and hell, even winning.
He was glad he never had to find them dead like Kol. It was something he could go a million lifetimes without ever seeing again. That was without even thinking of everyone else. Of Jeremy and Anna…
But he didn’t have that long. He just had now.
‘Come on, you moron,’ he thought bitterly. ‘End this stupid introspection.’ He was done thinking. He was letting his mind shut off.
End of the line.
Damon closed his eyes. He waited for the impact, the swing of that machete, the pain, the stickiness of the blood. Anything.
He sure as hell hadn’t been expecting the laughter. And not crazy, ‘I’m about to kill you’ laughter either. This was ‘April Fool’s!’ kind of laughter, ‘made you look’ kind of laughter. He opened his eyes.
Standing over him, plague doctor mask in hand, was Marcel Gerard. His face was bloodied and bruised, his nose was crooked like it had been broken or sprained, but he was laughing like the miserable S.O.B he was.
“What the hell?!” Damon shouted, his heart still pounding in his ears. What was supposed to be funny about this? Marcel had just killed his best friend’s younger brother, and his own girlfriend, if the body in Rebekah’s room was anything to go by. He’d put an axe through Bonnie, taken a baseball bat to Lexi’s head, played archery with Jeremy as a target. And let’s face it, Matt and Tyler were probably dead too. Those idiots couldn’t survive a horror movie.
There was nothing humorous about the oceans of blood on his hands.
“Oh God, you actually fell for it!” Marcel wheezed, and he hefted the machete upright before pressing his other palm right onto the tip. Instead of drawing blood, the top collapsed in with the sound like plastic on plastic…
It was a prop.
A prop knife.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Damon spat, sitting up. Marcel was still laughing, tossing his rubber mask onto the ground. Now that he was thinking about it, the mask looked pretty off brand too; not even good quality.
It looked like the bull he could buy at Party City.
Wow.
Just wow.
“Aww man, you should’ve seen your face,” Marcel said, finally sobering up. “I mean, we didn’t even pull out all the stops for this script, but man, you were about ready to just lie down and die!”
The script?!
“Are you telling me,” Damon gritted out. “That you get paid to do this?!”
Marcel straightened up. “Duh. You really think Klaus just randomly decided to buy a creepy ass summer camp for no reason!? Nah, man, it’s a murder camp!”
Unbelievable. Seriously, what sick idiot would fake a murder spree just to scare-
Oh. Oh, Damon knew exactly who.
“Stefan,” he growled.
Marcel grinned. “Bingo.”
He wiped at some of the blood on his black hoodie, which now looked more like the consistency of corn syrup. God, he should’ve known. Rebekah Mikaelson was a beauty queen, and by association, a special effects makeup wizard. Fake blood would be kindergarten for her, and no doubt some fake arrows through someone’s skull were too.
And here he was feeling bad that she was dead.
Son of a-
“Ah sweet revenge.” Speak of the devil. Stefan himself was engaging in the classic slow clap from his place on Klaus’ porch. He was leaned against the rickety banister like some kind of freaking god, smirking like he’d just been crowned emperor of the galaxy, and jeez, Damon had never hated his younger brother more in his entire life.
“You are messed up in the head, you little-“
Stefan cut him off. “Oh please, this was just a little innocent payback for all sixteen years of my life, spent with you terrorizing me.”
Damon got to his feet, itching to punch the smile right off of his brother’s face, but the others were showing up now. All smiling and soaked in blood, dirt and leaves in their hair and fake cuts on their faces.
Jerks.
Jeremy was sporting his archery accident, and Caroline had pine needles in her blonde hair, purple bruises around her neck like fingerprints. Lexi was the poster child for gory death by baseball equipment, and Bonnie looked like her lumberjack boyfriend had lost it. Tyler and Matt were both covered in mud, and Davina still had mascara smeared on her cheeks from crying. Obviously she was a good actress. Klaus and Rebekah were scratched up and beaten, and they too were laughing like maniacs.
Even Vicki was laughing, which looked terribly gruesome due to the slit across her throat that she paid no mind to, one arm around Anna, who had her cheeks sliced open like someone had carved a smile onto her face.
Sick. His friends were sick.
“Boy,” Lexi chuckled. “If we can scare the great Damon Salvatore this badly, imagine how scared your siblings are gonna be,” she told Klaus. He laughed harder.
“Can’t wait to see Elijah finally lose his cool.”
Damon stared at all of them with their corn syrup blood and their purple blush-bruising, their rubber weapons and lackadaisical smiles. He might almost smile himself if he weren’t so mad that he’d been played. That the whole thing had been a trick.
“So you were all in on this?” He felt a stab of betrayal that all of his so-called friends would take something this far.
“No, not everyone. Enzo and Elena were just as clueless as you,” Tyler said. “We knew they wouldn’t turn on you.”
Damon made a mental note to never tease Enzo again, and to kiss Elena extra just for that. At least he could trust some of them. If they’d been in on it too, God knew what he might’ve done. Hell, he might’ve found new friends.
He might still.
“So where are they then?”
Bonnie giggled bashfully. “Well, since we had to scare them both and get them away from you as soon as possible so you’d be on your own, Cami came out of hiding and went after Enzo and locked him in a closet, and Marcel chased Elena into the woods.”
“That girl’s a spitfire,” Marcel agreed, grinning. “How d’you think my face got busted?”
He could imagine Elena running from Marcel, only to whip around and beat his punk ass, and Damon felt a surge of pride. That was his girl.
“We should probably get them,” Matt admitted, and Klaus tossed him a silver key ring. Him and Bonnie wandered off, no doubt to go free Enzo was from his supply closet jail cell. Damon couldn’t help but feel relieved that he wasn’t the only one being tricked; Enzo would flip when his crush came to let him out with an axe through her chest.
“Can we change now?” Caroline asked, scraping at the dirt on her skin. “All this mud and makeup is itchy.”
Klaus nodded. “Yeah, everyone better have this place in tip top shape in an hour. Then we’re doing a bonfire before you guys head home.” Damon scowled as they all split ways, stripping off artfully torn sweaters and jackets.
“You coming?” Kol asked him.
“Nope. I’m going to find my girlfriend.” He shot Marcel a dirty look. “You know, the one you chased into the forest and then abandoned.”
Marcel held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t blame me. Your brother paid me to.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“ELENA?!?” Damon, moving his flashlight around to illuminate the dense woods. “EL?!?” It had been half an hour and she wasn’t responding. A cold feeling traveled down his spine, but he dismissed it. It was just the lingering fear from that stupid prank.
“Elena?” He tried again. “El?” Nothing. How far did Marcel even chase her anyways? She could’ve run back to town for all they knew; she might even have the police on their way. Or she could’ve tripped and fallen…
Hit her head, broken something…
She wasn’t answering her phone. And that wasn’t like Elena at all.
“Ellie?” He shouted, quieter this time as the gravity of the situation set in. To Stefan and the rest of the Stooges, this was just a funny little practical joke, but to him and El and Enzo, this was real.
Enzo had spent over an hour in a closet, no idea what was happening. Who was alive or dead. He probably heard the staged screams and had to cover his ears to tune them out, trying not to figure out who they belonged to for the sake of his sanity. And Elena had obviously run like hell, had probably been on the verge of a panic attack.
She’d seen her father, John, murdered right in front of her; barely made it out with her life. She was probably freaking out, if she was even coherent. Classy, Stefan, real classy.
Something cracked behind him, and Damon whipped around, his flashlight clutched tightly in hand. He expected to see a squirrel or something, his nerves getting the best of him. He didn’t expect his girlfriend to have snuck up on him like that. Honestly, he’d given up hope on finding her at all.
Elena was about ten feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, shaking. She was a mess, her gray tank top torn by sharp branches and her ankles scratched and dripping scarlet. One of his flannels was unbuttoned over her top, covered in dirt and leaves, and her jean shorts were soaked with what looked like…tar? He also noticed that she was completely barefoot.
“Jeez,” he gaped, turning his flashlight off so her eyes could readjust to the darkness. “Elena, what happened?”
“You’re a-alive!” She whispered, and when he only nodded, she sprinted the last few feet between them and threw herself into his arms. “I thought you were dead!”
Damon pulled away, keeping one arm around her shoulders as he led them back towards the road. “Yeah, I’m alive, Ellie. You had me worried there for a minute,” he sighed.
Noticing where he was taking her, Elena stopped. “No, Damon, you don’t understand. We can’t go back! There’s-“
“A psychopath in a Spirit Halloween mask? Yeah, I’ve met the creep. It’s just Marcel.”
Elena’s lips parted, looking overwhelmed. Join the club. “Marcel? But he tried to kill me!”
“No, he just wanted you to think that. Stefan paid them all to make this whole thing up to scare me.”
Anger flitted across her features. “I saw Caroline’s dead body, Damon! So, what then?! Marcel just fake strangled her?!”
Damon nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. Him and Klaus’ girlfriend shared the costume to con us.”
“Care was in on it, then?”
“Yup. They all were. Save for me, you, and Enzo of course.”
Elena looked down at herself. Her bloody ankles and matted tangles of brunette hair. Then she looked back up at Damon.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
“You and me both, kid.”
When they got back to the camp, it had to have been the allotted hour by now, but there was no one in sight. “The hell?!” Elena mumbled, sticking to his side. She was extra jumpy now, not that he blamed her. He’d probably be glancing around corners from then until he graduated next year thanks to the prodigal brother.
“Maybe this is all still part of the trick,” Damon grumbled, kicking at the grass angrily. Elena shivered next to him, sinking into the sweatshirt he’d lent her. “Yeah. Maybe.”
She didn’t sound like she believed it.
He wasn’t sure he did either.
“Let’s just go see if Bonnie and Matt got Enzo, or if they decided to keep him in the closet for fun, okay?” Elena nodded, and he led her off towards the cabin Caroline and Bonnie had shared with her before they’d decided to do a live action reenactment of the Friday the 13th franchise.
If Cami had chased Enzo to anyone’s closet, he would’ve gone to the girls’ cabin, hoping to find Bonnie and be her knight in shining armor. Poor sap was probably rethinking his love interests right then, wasn’t he?
Damon pushed the door open and peered in, finding the room empty. The beds were all made, though Caroline’s was mussed up, and there was some barely concealed purple makeup under the covers, in the same shades as the bruises on her throat.
Traitorous minx. No doubt she helped Stefan think this whole ruse up; she was his girlfriend after all. Lexi probably helped too, because she’d do anything to make Damon absolutely miserable.
Elena separated from his side, creeping over to the closet and opening it. “Enzo?” She whispered, clicking on the light and looking through all of the hoodies and messily thrown in pairs of shoes. “Enz?!”
Damon sighed at the lack of response and sat back on Elena’s bed. “So they came and got him, and then..what? Vaporized into thin air?!”
Elena shrugged, her eyes far away. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. He’d like to chalk it off to the fact that all of her friends had thought it would be funny to make her think someone was trying to kill her family AGAIN. And maybe that was part of it, but he knew that neither of them would be getting over this for a while.
Elena came to sit beside him, holding a pair of sneakers; he’d almost forgotten she was barefoot. Running full speed through the woods with almost zero visibility had to have been a massive pain.
After putting them on, she fiddled with the laces for a while. “I saw Jer too, ya know.” Her voice was quiet. She ducked her head. “I thought he was dead. He thought it was funny, and I thought he was dead.” There was so much bitterness lying in her voice that Damon automatically pitied her younger brother for what a lecture he was going to get later.
He didn’t dare feel too bad for the kid though. He kinda deserved it.
“Believe me, I get it.” He responded. He still couldn’t shake that fear. That adrenaline pumping through his veins as the pounding footsteps of mortality followed in hot pursuit was still lingering.
He felt yet another surge of pride that Elena had whooped Marcel’s ass.
Suddenly, they heard shouts from outside the cabin, and they exchanged looks. Elena set her lips in a firm line, grabbing something from her pocket while Damon went for his flashlight. On closer inspection, he saw that she was holding a pocket knife, small but sharp, and definitely lethal. It was John’s old one, he knew.
Bet Marcel was glad he hadn’t gotten too into his little act, wasn’t he? Otherwise he might be lying gutted in the forest right then. Damon didn’t feel particularly bad about that thought either.
Together, they ventured back out of the cabin and through the small copse of trees towards the clearing where Klaus’ cabin sat by the fire pit.
Up ahead…
There were all of their friends, howling and shouting like wolves as they chased each other around the roaring orange flames. Rebekah had a bag of marshmallows, and some of the boys were chucking Hershey’s chocolate bar pieces at each other.
Oafs.
Enzo came jogging over, smelling like wood smoke and bug spray and his hair soaking wet. “Can you believe this?” He said, the minute he was within earshot. He gave Elena and Damon a once-over, wincing at their scraped appearances.
“I know right,” Damon growled, equally annoyed. “What’d they do to you?” Unless Enzo had fallen in a vat of bleach while in that closet, he had no idea how the guy got soaked.
“They let me out of the closet, Matt and Bonnie did,” Enzo said, gritting his teeth. “They talked all hushed, saying they were sneaking me out while the “killer” was distracted. Then they led me down to the lake and had Camille jump-scare me. I fell in.” He threw his hands up angrily. “I had to change clothes.”
“This was so mean,” Elena shook her head, as though she couldn’t believe her friends were capable of that. It was just like her to think so highly of them. No doubt she put way more faith in them than they did in her.
Backstabbers.
He’d never trust any of them again.
“Well,” Damon sighed. “Let’s just get this over with so we can leave in the morning.” The sooner the better.
Enzo nodded. “Can I ride with you two on the way home? The fewer of THEM I have to sit with, the better.”
“Sure, man,” Damon grinned. “We gotta stick together.”
“And get them back big time,” Elena muttered darkly, getting that vengeful gleam in her eyes that reminded Damon she wasn’t just some naive kid. She was a lot more formidable than she looked.
He sure as hell was glad she hadn’t helped out on this joke. Otherwise he might’ve actually been screwed.
“Oh, we’re definitely getting ours,” Enzo agreed, and the three of them walked back over to the fire pit, entertaining thoughts on the best ways to top a spring vacation with Jason and the rest of the Friday the 13th cast.
Oh, were they in for it.
They took their seats by the fire, grabbing marshmallows from Rebekah without a word. The blonde tried her best to get at least Elena to talk to her, since the two were normally joined at the hip, but Elena wouldn’t bite.
“What did they expect?” She asked the two boys, holding her marshmallow over the fire and glaring at Jeremy from afar. “Did they really think we’d just laugh this off?”
Damon was glad she and Enzo were so mad too. Otherwise he’d be inclined to think he was overreacting, and there was no way he was just going to give in and have a jolly old laugh with Stefan the Schemer.
“Apparently they only have forethought when it comes to committing fake murder,” Enzo sighed. Bonnie was trying to catch his eye, to no avail.
“Aww, don’t be like that,” Klaus chuckled, sitting on the other side of the fire. Everyone else trickled over, for when Niklaus Mikaelson took his seat, it was usually time to tell creepy stories until someone got jump-scared.
Not tonight, Damon hoped. He’d had enough of a horror story the last two hours, thanks.
Elena glared daggers at him, which was completely justified, given that she’d developed a limp from the amount of times she’d gotten the bottoms of her feet cut open on sharp stones and sticks while running for what she thought was her life.
“Look, we’re sorry you got tricked too, Ellie,” Rebekah started. “But we knew you’d never help with this one, especially since we were after Damon.”
Elena scoffed. “Nice try, Becky. You’re not sorry I got tricked. You’re just sorry I’m mad.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Oh get over it, sis. At least you didn’t have to lie on an archery target for an hour and a half with fake arrows sticking out of your whole body. I felt like a freaking pincushion.”
Damon was about to point out that he really wasn’t helping their case, but the others piped up too.
“Ugh, tell me about it,” Anna groaned. “Those cuts on my face were itchy!”
“I think I’ll have pine needles in my hair for the rest of my teenage years,” Caroline laughed.
“Serves you all right,” Enzo interrupted. “Bloody jerks.”
“Yeah!” Elena agreed. “What kind of friends chase their friends around the woods with a chainsaw?!?”
Marcel frowned. “Chainsaw? I didn’t have a chainsaw.” Cami nodded in agreement, looking concerned. Like Elena was the crazy one in this situation. “I used a fake saw on Bex,” Marcel jerked his head in his girlfriend’s direction. “But not a chainsaw. We don’t have a prop one of those.”
“Ha ha,” Elena glared. “Nice try. You chased me around in that stupid doctor mask and then you hid, and came back with the chainsaw and the sack over your head. I’m done falling for your tricks, Marcel.”
Enzo nodded vigorously, much to Damon’s surprise. He hadn’t seen this other mask they were talking about. “I saw you down by the lake too. After Cami jumped me. When I fell in and resurfaced, Marcel had that stupid burlap sack on with holes cut out for eyes. You were hiding by the tree line over there.” He pointed down by the rickety docks.
Marcel and Cami exchanged looks. “Marcel wasn’t with us when we scared you, Enzo.”
“He was with me,” Lexi continued. “I can vouch for him. We were cleaning up the fake blood in the mess hall.” He wondered vaguely who’d been playing dead in there. Vicki, maybe, collapsed with her slit throat across one of the lunch tables.
“God, guys,” Damon sneered. “Jig’s up. I thought you were done trying to mess with us.”
“Real mature,” his girlfriend growled, looking ready to push someone on the open flames. He could still see the pocket knife, now clipped to the waistband of her jean shorts, which were still stained black from whatever that tar stuff was. Now that he noticed it again, it was smeared on her legs too, even a bit on her shirt, the very ends of her hair too.
“We’re not lying!” Matt insisted. Damon ignored him.
“What’s that stuff on your jeans?” He asked Elena. She frowned at him. “I dunno. Tar, I think. Some clever trap to keep me from running,” she flipped Marcel off. “Funny, by the way. Making me think I was about to be slaughtered and then making me slip and fall in the tar you spread on the road. I had to ditch my shoes cuz they got stuck, Einstein.”
Marcel looked even more puzzled. “Tar? Why would I spread tar on the road? That stuff’s impossible to wash away. It would make leaving really hard until it dried.”
Elena’s angry expression faltered. “You…you didn’t do that?” Damon felt that coldness down his spine again. Enzo was paler than a ghost.
“And…you didn’t have that mask? Or the chainsaw?” He asked, glancing at Damon and Elena like they might already be dead.
‘I should’ve written a will,’ Damon thought dizzily.
Cami shook her head, one hand covering her mouth. Suddenly, Bonnie flew to her feet, eyes glued to the lake, the dark waters stirring up silver sparkles as the moon peeked out through the dark clouds that had earlier been covering it, reflecting on the smooth surface.
And the dark shape floating on that surface too. It was a dead, rotted log. That was what it was. What it had to be.
Bonnie screamed, high pitched and bloodcurdling and too chilling to be fake. He felt like someone’s hypothermic fingers were curling around his heart, cold and dead and blackened.
Davina screamed too then, and threw herself against Kol, her head burying into his neck. “Oh my God,” she shrieked. Klaus stood quickly, whispering some meaningless reassurances in Cami’s ear, before he and Marcel ventured closer to the water’s edge, their footsteps thunking hollowly on the dock.
Damon half-expected the figure with the sack over his head to launch out of the water and grab someone, chainsaw revving in the night.
Instead, Klaus and Marcel just looked out over the lake for a long while, until the former ran a hand through his strawberry blonde curls and kicked at the rotting wood docks angrily. Marcel grabbed his arm and dragged him back towards the fire.
They were both pale.
Klaus was panting. “It’s Freya. She’s dead.” His eyes were shining. Freya was his oldest sibling, and his only sister besides Rebekah.
“What?!” Rebekah gasped, and Cami immediately wrapped Klaus in a hug.
“So that’s where she’s been all day,” Tyler muttered, and Damon remembered vaguely hearing that she’d disappeared earlier in the day. But he’d dismissed it after Marcel unmasked himself. It had slipped his mind in general, so why not just believe it was all part of the script?!
But no. Someone was dead. Someone was really dead.
“How are we going to tell Keelin?” Kol muttered, saying Freya’s wife’s name like it was something reverent, something holy that couldn’t be spoken above a whisper. “She’s still in New Orleans for three more days. She’s got no clue.”
Good. She could enjoy some bliss before she found out.
“So this really isn’t part of the game?” Enzo whispered.
“ARE YOU MAD?!?” Rebekah shouted.
“I’m calling Ric!” Jeremy said, standing and going for his phone.
“There’s no point!” Elena shouted, looking panicked. “He won’t get here on time. Mystic Falls is five hours away and he and Jo are probably asleep!”
“We’ll be dead by then,” Damon said darkly, and he felt everyone look at him, as if he hadn’t just spoken the truth.
“Call the police!” Anna told Jeremy, hugging herself and glancing around. “The nearest town is only twenty minutes away. They’ll get here.”
“There’s tar on the road,” Marcel interrupted. “I don’t know how much, but their cars could get stuck.”
“That’s not even possible, is it?” Vicki asked nervously. Everyone just shrugged frantically.
“It was really sticky,” Elena whispered, playing with the tar-blackened tips of her hair nervously. He wondered how she’d gotten out if she managed to get it all over her legs and shorts…yet again, the things he had managed to do while running from Marcel were a little unbelievable too…
Adrenaline was like a super steroid or something.
“I’m calling them anyways,” Jeremy said. Everyone fell silent as he fiddled with the buttons on his cell. Just as he was about to make the call, they heard a chainsaw running somewhere nearby.
“Oh God,” Elena whispered, grabbing his hand. Then Vicki took off running, because if there was one rule the survivors in horror movies explicitly followed, it was that you always, ALWAYS go running off on your own.
Genius, really. “Ivy League school” kind of genius.
“Vicki!” Matt and Tyler chased after her like the “Dumb and Dumber” reboot they were, and with that, all hell broke loose.
People ran in every direction. Someone extinguished the fire, and next thing Damon knew, he was running too. Elena was following, still clutching his hand like it was a lifeline. Enzo was on his heels too, swearing more colorfully than the paint in the original version of Starry Night. He knew they were screwed. Damon knew it too.
And he was pretty sure Elena had known all along, deep down, ever since he’d found her in the woods.
“We stick together,” Damon reminded them, grabbing Enzo’s arm to make sure he kept up. His best friend only nodded, and Elena shot them both a helpless glance.
“This isn’t the revenge I had in mind.”