The lock wasn't much of a challenge; lock picking was a skill Damon had learned centuries ago. Inside the compartment was a thick notebook bound in brown leather.
Damon quickly flipped through the pages, growing ever more curious. It seemed to be some kind of journal: part philosophical musings, part the record of a series of experiments.
There must be a way to improve with science what can be imperfectly wrought by magic, Damon read. My subjects begin to develop, then die without warning, their hearts bursting under their new stresses. Is there a way to strengthen the circulatory system and allow improved capacity? Multiple surgeries will be necessary.
Subject K4 showed promise, but the side effects of the adrenaline and stimulants were too great. Subject proved ungovernable and prone to uncontrollable fits of rage. After dismemberment of lab assistant, subject was destroyed.
"Subject K4 didn't want to bow down to you, did he, Doctor?" Damon muttered. The back of his neck was prickling uneasily as he read: There was something very, very wrong here. He flipped forward a few pages and read on.
After the deaths of the first batch of test subjects and the disaster of Subject K4, the doctor had adjusted the dosages and streamlined a course of surgeries, not just on the circulatory system but on the muscles, digestive system, brain, and even facial structure and teeth.
And, gradually, his experiments began to survive.
A high dose of iron and protein is necessary to combat the anemia that results from the new bone density. Is the traditional blood diet less mystical and more practical than previously thought?
Blood diet. Damon suddenly realized what he was reading. This person was trying to make vampires.
Trying, and apparently succeeding. As the doctor fine-tuned the surgeries and medications for his experiments, the pages Damon was reading became a record of triumphs.
As I had suspected, there is no reason but mysticism for the limitations of the natural vampire. By rerouting the circulatory system and adding a large dose of melanin to the initial medication, I have made my subjects impervious to the traditional methods of controlling their population: Subjects can walk easily in the sun and are not harmed by wood to the heart.
Nonphysical methods of identification proved more difficult at first to bypass. Test subjects were readily identified as unnatural by humans with highly developed senses: so-called "psychics" and "seers."
Auras, Damon thought. He's talking about people who can read auras, like Elena. The doctor had eventually found a way around this, too. Through intensive meditation and a high dosage of serotonin inhibitors, the lab-created vampires had managed to learn to hide or disguise their auras.
This, Damon thought, absently tapping the page with one finger, could be useful. He read on.
Finally, after so many trials and errors, the experiment has been an unqualified success. My subjects have all the advantages of the natural vampire: They do not appear to age or contract illnesses, they are stronger and faster than humans, they have highly developed senses. And yet I have been able to circumvent the disadvantages that keep natural vampires from being the perfect predators: Unlike their wild cousins, my subjects are not endangered by wood or sunlight. The time has come to move on to Stage B of the experiment.
Stage B? Damon flipped forward again and blinked in surprise at what he found. In the next stage of his experiment, the doctor had used the technique on himself. It made sense, Damon supposed. Certainly if he had created the ultimate predator, he wouldn't want to remain prey.
This didn't really explain why the doctor's lab-manufactured vampires had been coming after Damon, though. He kept reading.
To take dominance in the natural world, it is necessary to eliminate competitive species. The vampire has survived unchanged for too long; in some cases for thousands of years. These targets must be eliminated for my bold new world to be possible. The greatest threat to my new creations is their inspiration: the traditional vampire.
Turning one more page, Damon found two lists of names.
The first was Old Ones, he recognized immediately. First names only-the Old Ones came from a time before people needed more than one name. Klaus, Celine, Benevenuto, Alexander-Old Ones he knew Stefan and his friends had killed, each one crossed out in black ink. Other names he didn't recognize-Chihiro, Gunnar of the North, Milimo, Pachacuti-were crossed out in red.
Only one name remained unmarked: Solomon.
"You've been busy, Doctor Jekyll," Damon muttered, tracing over the red-crossed names with one finger.
The second list was much longer-and much worse. Many of these crossed-out names were vampires Damon knew.
Anne Grimmsdotir: a quiet, fierce girl who had wandered the North since the days of the Vikings. She didn't talk much, but she was graceful and quick.
Sophia Alexiou: beautiful, elegant Sophia, whom Damon had spent a Mediterranean winter with once, more than a century ago.
Abioye Ogunwale: Sharp-tongued and stubborn, he'd always been a gambler. He'd won Damon's favorite boots in a card game, back in the seventeenth century.
Damon stared at the names, an uncomfortable tightness growing in his chest. They hadn't been friends, these vampires-Damon didn't really make friends-but they were people Damon had met again and again over the course of a very long life. Old vampires, strong vampires, who'd hunted and traveled and survived for centuries. All of them murdered for a bold new world of man-made vampires?
Halfway down the page was written: Katherine von Swartzschild. It hadn't been crossed out yet. "Behind the times, Doctor," Damon said softly, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of her name.
At the bottom of the page, the last names on the list: Damon Salvatore. Stefan Salvatore. Dalcrest, Virginia.