Stephen Salvatore's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

The flask kept Stephen steady for two days, and Damon never left his side. His brother slept on the motel couch and drove when Stephen drove. Every time Stephen reached for a door, Damon was already there. The leash was invisible, but Stephen felt it on his throat. He decided to test it. If he could feed himself, on his own terms, without a hunt and without Damon's flask, then he could start pulling free. He watched a white two-story house down the block. A neat mailbox stood by the walkway. He had seen the family leave each morning, all but one. An old man stayed behind on the porch, alone, slow. Stephen did not plan to hurt him. He planned to take a small drink, prove he could stop, and prove he needed no keeper. That was the whole test. He waited until Damon went for coffee. Then he crossed the street and climbed the porch steps. The old man smiled at him, trusting. Stephen felt the pulse under the thin skin of the wrist. His control was steady. This time he could stop. He leaned in. A hand closed on his collar and yanked him back off the steps. "No," Damon said. He set his coffee on the mailbox and steered Stephen down the walkway by the neck. His grip did not loosen. "You think you picked him. You picked the easy one. That's the thirst choosing, not you." "I had it," Stephen said. "I was going to stop." "You say that every century." Damon shoved him against the car. His blue eyes were calm, and that was worse than anger. "I let you walk to that porch. I wanted you to see how fast I get there. There is no move you make that I can't beat. Not one." Stephen understood then. Damon had not stumbled onto him at the motel or here. Damon had let the test happen. He had let Stephen climb the steps so the lesson would land in Stephen's own body. The leash was not going to slip. Damon would always arrive first. So Stephen stopped fighting him. He went limp, and he made himself smile. "You're right," he said. "I can't outrun you." Damon studied him, pleased. He handed Stephen the flask again. "Now you learn." Stephen drank. But something had turned. He could not beat his brother by running, so he would stop trying to escape the leash. He would use it. If Damon wanted to stay this close, then Stephen would let him close enough to learn what Stephen learned. There were rumors, older than both of them, of a cure. Stephen would hunt it in plain sight, one careful question at a time, while Damon believed he had won. He let Damon drive. He looked out the window and started counting the days he would need.