Chapter 20: Flames of Fury
Damon's vision swam back into focus, a dull ache throbbing in his skull. He was sprawled on the cold concrete floor, the stench of gasoline stinging his nostrils. Disoriented, he tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him back down.
His gaze fell upon a scene ripped straight from his nightmares. Deputies, faces contorted in a mixture of fear and grim determination, were dragging unconscious vampires into the building. A wave of nausea rose in his throat. John's invention. It was working. Too well.
John himself stood nearby, his face devoid of any emotion as he barked orders at the deputies. A growing pool of gasoline spread across the floor, catching the flickering light from a nearby lamp. Damon's heart hammered against his ribs. John was going to burn them all.
A choked sob escaped his lips, drawing John's attention. Anna lay crumpled on the floor a few feet away, her eyes wide with terror. John regarded her with a chilling indifference.
"Anna," he said, his voice flat.
Damon's blood ran cold. He watched, helpless, as John reached for the stake strapped to his back.
"Please...no!" Anna rasped, her voice weak with fear.
But John was unmoved. In his eyes, she wasn't a former lover, a friend, or even a human being. She was a vampire, a threat to be eliminated. With a swift, practiced movement, John plunged the stake into her chest.
A guttural scream tore from Anna's lips, followed by a sickening thud as her body went limp. John didn't even flinch. He simply tossed the bloody stake aside like a used napkin and grabbed a canister of gasoline, dousing the area around her lifeless form.
Rage, hot and primal, surged through Damon. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but his body remained sluggish, his limbs heavy with a mixture of vervain and his own injuries. He could only watch in numb horror as John ascended the stairs, a trail of gasoline marking his path.
Reaching the top floor, John surveyed the scene below with a cold satisfaction. The captured vampires, weak from the vervain coursing through their veins, huddled together, whimpers and moans escaping their lips.
With a cruel twist of his lips, John tossed a lit match into the pool of gasoline. Flames erupted in an instant, a monstrous inferno engulfing the building. Shrieks of terror filled the air, quickly drowned out by the crackling roar of the fire.
...
The fire raged on, casting grotesque shadows on the concrete floor. The air crackled with heat and the stench of burning flesh hung heavy. Damon, his vision blurry from smoke and exhaustion, struggled to his hands and knees. The vervain coursing through his veins mocked his every attempt to rise. He was weak, vulnerable, a stark contrast to the predator he usually was.
A groan from behind him drew his attention. Mayor Lockwood lay sprawled on the cold floor, his face pale and clammy.
"Mayor? Is that you?" Damon rasped, surprised to see the human leader amidst the carnage.
Richard Lockwood turned his head slowly, his eyes vacant and unfocused. "What are you doing here?" he mumbled, slurring his words.
"I could ask you the same question," Damon replied, pushing himself up on one shaky arm. The vervain's effects were starting to wane, a sliver of his strength returning. "No, really," he pressed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "The vervain didn't affect you. You're not a vampire... what the hell are you?"
Richard scrambled backwards, fear flickering in his eyes. His retreat was cut short by a sudden jolt as he bumped into another figure. A figure Damon recognized all too well.
The leader of the tomb vampires, his face twisted in a feral grin, rose from the ground. His eyes, glowing a menacing red, locked onto Richard Lockwood.
"Mayor Lockwood!" he snarled, his voice dripping with a chilling delight.
The vampire leader reached a hand behind Richard's neck, his grip surprisingly strong. He yanked Richard's head up with a sickening snap, followed by a sickening crack. The Mayor's eyes bulged, his body went limp, and then slumped lifelessly to the floor.
Damon watched in a horrified daze as the vampire leader discarded Richard's body like discarded clothing. A wave of nausea washed over him, a combination of the fire's heat and the vervain.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the burning building, momentarily pushing the flames back. Stefan, battered and singed but determined, stood in the doorway, the remnants of Bonnie's spell clinging to his clothes. He had fought his way through the smoke and collapsing debris, driven by a relentless need to find his brother.
With a burst of vampire speed, Stefan rushed towards Damon, scooping him up in his arms with surprising ease. Damon, still weak, offered no resistance. The weightlessness as Stefan carried him was both disorienting and strangely comforting. They were a blur as Stefan tore through the smoke-filled basement, the roar of the fire fading behind them.
As they exited the building, Elena collided with them in a tight embrace. Relief and worry battled in her eyes as she looked between the two brothers. Stefan, his face etched with concern, offered a single reassuring nod.
Damon, finally regaining a semblance of control over his lungs, coughed violently, expelling a plume of black smoke. He rolled onto his back, his gaze meeting Stefan's. A ghost of a smile played on his lips.
"Thank you, brother," he rasped, his voice hoarse but sincere. Stefan simply squeezed Damon's shoulder in a brief gesture of acknowledgment, a silent promise of a conversation for another time. He knew Damon understood. Right now, they had bigger concerns.
The fire, though subdued, continued to smolder, casting an eerie orange glow over the destruction. Fire trucks swarmed the area, their flashing lights reflecting off the charred remains of the building.