Chapter 27 : Bonfire Blood
The flames climbed twenty feet into the night sky.
The bonfire at the Falls was a Mystic Falls tradition—senior year kickoff, a chance to drink illegally and pretend the future wasn't barreling toward us. The clearing by the falls filled with students, the air thick with smoke and music and the particular energy of teenagers convinced they were immortal.
I moved through the crowd with my eyes on Vicki.
She was with Jeremy Gilbert and Tyler Lockwood, which was exactly the volatile combination I'd feared. Jeremy's puppy-dog crush was obvious; Tyler's possessive aggression was barely contained. Vicki navigated between them with the expertise of someone who'd learned to manage male attention as a survival skill.
I positioned myself nearby, close enough to reach her if something went wrong.
The stakes in my jacket pressed against my ribs. Three of them, vervain-soaked, ready for use. I'd slipped away from Caroline with an excuse about getting drinks, and now I watched my sister laugh at something Tyler said while every instinct screamed that tonight was wrong.
The bonfire. Vicki's attack. The first time Damon draws blood in Mystic Falls.
I knew the script. I'd prepared for this moment. And I still couldn't guarantee I could change it.
Stefan and Elena were by the fire, lost in each other's gravity. The connection between them was almost visible—the pull of a century-old obsession meeting its echo in the modern world. Elena didn't know she was dancing with a vampire. Stefan didn't care.
Caroline appeared at my elbow. "You've been distracted all night."
"Sorry." I pulled my attention back to her. "Worried about Vicki."
"She's fine. She's always fine." Caroline glanced at my sister with minimal interest. "Stop being overprotective and dance with me."
I let her pull me toward the makeshift dance floor, keeping Vicki in my peripheral vision. The music was loud, the beat steady, and Caroline's body was warm against mine.
For a few minutes, I almost forgot what was coming.
Then Tyler threw a punch at Jeremy.
The fight erupted with the sudden violence of teenage boys with too much to prove. I pushed through the crowd, trying to reach them, but the chaos was too thick. Bodies pressed in from all directions, people shouting, someone screaming.
When I finally broke through, Tyler was on top of Jeremy, fists flying. I grabbed Tyler's shoulder and hauled him back.
"Enough!"
Tyler shoved me. "Stay out of this, Donovan."
"Jeremy's a kid. You're better than this."
For a moment, I thought Tyler would hit me instead. The rage in his eyes was primal, the werewolf gene expressing itself in violence he couldn't control. Then something shifted, and he turned away, storming into the darkness.
I helped Jeremy to his feet. His lip was split, his eye swelling.
"You okay?"
"Fine." He shrugged me off. "I don't need help from Vicki's brother."
He stumbled away, and I realized I'd lost track of Vicki.
No.
I scanned the crowd. By the fire—no. At the drink table—no. Heading toward the woods—
There. A flash of blonde hair disappearing between the trees.
I ran.
The forest swallowed the noise of the party within seconds. Dark and close, the trees pressing in, the only light the distant glow of the bonfire filtering through branches. I moved as fast as I dared, following the path Vicki must have taken.
Then the screaming started.
I sprinted toward the sound, stakes in hand, blood pounding in my ears. The clearing materialized out of the darkness—a small space between ancient trees, moonlight filtering down, and Vicki collapsed on the ground.
Her throat was torn open. Blood everywhere, pooling beneath her, soaking into the earth.
Above her, in the branches of an old oak, something watched.
Eyes that glowed in the darkness. A smile that showed too many teeth.
Damon.
Time stretched. I could see him clearly now—dark hair, leather jacket, the cruel beauty of a predator at play. He wasn't feeding. He was watching. Enjoying the moment.
Our eyes met.
His smile widened.
Then Stefan crashed through the underbrush, and the moment shattered.
"Damon!" Stefan's voice was fury and fear combined. "What did you do?"
"Just having fun, little brother." Damon dropped from the tree, landing soundlessly. "She tastes like disappointment and cheap vodka. Remind you of anyone?"
Stefan positioned himself between Damon and Vicki's body. "You need to leave."
"Or what?" Damon's laugh was soft, dangerous. "You'll brood at me? Please."
I moved while they argued.
Dropping to my knees beside Vicki, I pressed two fingers to her throat. Pulse there, weak but present. Breathing shallow, bubbling through the blood that filled her torn windpipe.
She was dying. Seconds, maybe a minute.
Do it.
I palmed the small knife from my pocket and drew it across my palm in one quick motion. The pain was sharp, familiar from a dozen training sessions. Blood welled from the cut.
Without hesitation, I pressed my bleeding palm against Vicki's wound.
Please work. Please work. Please—
My blood mingled with hers, seeping into the torn flesh, flowing along the exposed vessels. I couldn't feel anything special—no surge of power, no magical connection—but I held my hand there anyway, willing my healing factor to transfer.
"Matt?" Stefan's voice cut through my focus. "The ambulance is coming. Step back."
I looked up. Damon was gone, vanished into the night. Stefan was on his phone, projecting calm authority.
"She's my sister."
"I know. But help is coming." His eyes met mine, and I saw the calculation behind them. Assessing what I'd witnessed. Deciding whether I was a threat. "You should step back."
I pulled my hand away, hiding the cut against my jeans. The bleeding had already stopped—my own healing working its magic—but Vicki's wound...
Was it my imagination, or was the bleeding slowing?
Sirens in the distance. Flashlights through the trees. The chaos of help arriving.
I held Vicki's hand as the EMTs loaded her onto a stretcher. Her eyes fluttered open once, found mine, and closed again. But she was breathing. She was alive.
In the ambulance, her vitals stabilized faster than the EMT expected. I saw the puzzled look on his face as he checked the monitors.
"She's stabilizing," he said, sounding confused. "This kind of wound... she shouldn't be stabilizing this quickly."
My hands trembled.
The cut on my palm had healed to a thin pink line.
Vicki's throat was still torn, still horrible, but the bleeding had stopped. Completely.
It worked. My blood... it worked.
Or she was dying anyway, and I'd just given myself false hope.
The hospital loomed ahead. The EMT was calling for a trauma team. And I sat there with my sister's blood on my clothes and my own healing blood drying on my palm.
The first battle of the vampire war was over.
I had no idea if I'd won.
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