Okay, that'll be all for tonight. Next ten chapters tomorrow... more or less.

Yes, strange and old names are a thing in the Saltzman Family. Got a problem with that?

Adjusting to our reality, part 10: The same eyes

The Grill was so silent that Damon almost thought somebody had turned the sound off.

He had been surprised by Alaric's intervention. Surprised and many other things. Disappointed because he had hoped he could have beaten this guy and his friends to a pulp almost legitimately. Pleased to hear the sound of the nose breaking. Thunderstuck with the efficacity of the punch. Relieved that Ric wouldn't let him do something stupid. Heartened to have a friend who cared enough about him to stop any moron from insulting him.

This whole situation was so heartwarming that the vampire didn't even react at the scent of blood.

Not even interested.

Alaric saw the man leering at some completely dumbfounded customer holding a dinner knife. This idiot was definitely full of bad ideas.

"You get out of here. Now."

"Don't believe the likes of you can order us around, you little shi..."

The man reached out for the knife, but the hunter was faster than him.

Ric seized his arm and pinned it to the bar counter. Then, as the man struggled to get free from his grip, he squezzed so hard his fingers began to ache and he heard some crackles. He wasn't sure if it was his or the man's bones that were announcing an upcomming shattering.

The guy wasn't exactly unable to move, as the blood running down his face, the forced position and the strain on his arm were so much that he began to shake. Shaking was no immobility. It was way worse. Way more painful.

He lifted his head, ready for another round of verbal abuse. Then his eyes met with the teacher's, and what he saw was so terrifying his face went blank. No word, let alone insult, was uttered.

"I won't say it again."

That was kind of awesome to see the local history teacher outpowering a thug with no difficulty, but it was also kind of problematic. People were already whispering about setting an example and a lot of things Damon chose not to hear.

Alaric let go of the man who basically ran away as soon as he could walk straight again.

"I'm so used to see you battling against monsters with supernatural strength that I forgot yours isn't so common as well..."

The hunter grimaced. His fingers were still shaking, but he suspected it was his own fault. He just needed to realize that his opponent, even if he could hardly call him that, was ultimately alright. Or at least alrighter than he would have been if the hunter had let Damon deal with it. A lot less dead, to begin with. So, what he did was a good thing. He used his capacities for the well-being of someone, which was pretty ironic. He hadn't lost control.

His fingers weren't shaking anymore.

"I simply train a lot."

"Not so much. Not as much as you should to be able to pull such a stunt. And let's not talk about your muscular mass, that is perfectly formed but nowhere near enough to explain your prowess."

"What do you want me to say? Some people have more efficient bodies, that's all. And what, are you spying on me?"

Damon didn't answer. He had other things on his mind.

"What about the fools? For what you know, they could as well be waiting for you outside?"

"They are. They always are."

So the teacher had some experience with bar fights.

That wasn't the most intriguing thing. Damon had other interests, right now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Many reasons. Pick the one you like best."

That was an evasive answer if Damon had ever hear one. But the vampire wanted to know if his friend had acted for him, if he had thought about him, even just a little, when his fist had came into physical contact with the disgusting face of the moron.

"Let's try again: did you do it for him, or for me?"

Alaric frowned, unsure of what his friend meant.

"I could say both, I guess. But, Damon, who do you want it to be for?"

The question was left unanswered.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back. And to take care of some garbage."

The hunter paid for his drinks, and left. Damon was so uneasy about the question that he didn't understand what Ric meant for at least fifty seconds.

Right. There was human trash waiting for Alaric outside.

The vampire supposed the teacher could handle it, but he didn't want him to be injured. And he had to return the courtesy, somehow. He should really go after him.

Ric was standing next to his car, listening to a deplorable conversation between three drunkards who weren't even able to notice he was here. It wasn't so difficult to see him, but well. He had already guessed they weren't so bright.

The man whose nose he had broken was pressing a tissue on his face and talking in a low, wasted voice – so to say, loudly – to his two acolytes.

"You don't get it, guys. This man was a monster."

"You're only saying that because he ridiculed you..."

At least that was not so stupid a theory. Still, even if one out of three was a bit smarter than the others, the teacher could tell they wouldn't leave him alone. Too bad for them.

"Not at all! That wasn't his strength or his skills, and believe me, he has some, but his eyes that made me unable to fight back. I had this feeling that he would have killed me without a second thought. And a man like that, you can't leave him in the streets. It's our duty to get rid of him!"

Yeah, Alaric had had this idea too, after the accident. But self-murder was such a hassle.

Really, had people who had killed themselves thought about the friends they'd left behind? About the ones who would have to clean their mess? About the person who would discover their corpse?

And there was the hesitation. And there was the pain. And there was the possibility of a failed attempt. And there was the eventuality of sequelae.

Also, back then, he was only fifteen. He couldn't say he had been very eager to end his life.

"So, when he get out, the two of you grab him, and then I..."

The thug took a knife from one of his friends' hand.

Alaric sighed. Why were they all so fond of knives?

Knives were dangerous. It was so much easier to kill a man with something sharp than without.

The fool was just boosting his odds to be killed.

Not that the teacher wanted to kill him. Simply, if he ever got hold of the weapon, if the man ever tried to retaliate, he couldn't swear he wouldn't use every means available to stop the fight.

Ric coughed to avert them of his presence.

When Damon finally came out of the Grill, the first thing he saw was his friend kneeing someone in the sternum violently, knife in hand.

"I guess you did not need my help after all..."

"They've been drunk for hours. It's not much of a challenge."

The guy fell on the ground with a dull noise. One of his friends was pucking from a fist in the stomach, and the last one was simply unconscious. Alaric embed the knife in the ground, next to a small tree.

"Now I really need to go home."

"I'll take you back."

"I can walk."

"You prevented me from killing somebody tonight, I'm going to take you back to your apartment. I won't take no as an answer, because it's not a suggestion."

The ride was silent. Neither of them wished to talk about it.

When Damon dropped the teacher at his loft, a woman was waiting for him at the door.

The vampire saw Ric stiffen at the sight.

She lifted her head.

"Alaric."

So they knew each other.

Then again, that was pretty obvious. Why would an unknown woman be waiting at a man's door, if they weren't acquainted? The vampire gave her a quick look. She was kind of beautiful, not exactly his type, but well, that wasn't the point. In her twenties, tall enough, thin and sporty, she had blue eyes and dark hair. In fact, she had the same eyes as Ric did.

"Cassandre."

And a strange name too. Must be a family thing.

Damon wasn't saying that the hunter's name was lame. Alaric was a great name, but uncommon.

The vampire frowned when he noticed there was a suitcase against the wall.

"I need your help. It happened."

Damon looked at the teacher, waiting for explanations. All he saw was emptiness, struggling with sadness, in Alaric's eyes. There was definitely something odd going on. Something wrong.

Ric confirmed his thoughts by shutting him out to talk with the mysterious woman who looked a bit like him. His friend only muttered so that the girl wouldn't hear him.

"If you dare to listen to any of the words that are going to be said, Damon, I swear I'll stake you in the guts once a day for a whole year."

And he shut the door to his loft. That was really not to the vampire's liking. But what could he do? Pretend to be a jackass and eavesdrop? That wouldn't do any good to their friendship. Damon knew he wouldn't be able to pretend that he hadn't heard everything.

The only thing he could do was going back to the boarding house.

Alaric listened to the infuriated footsteps of the vampire before saying anything.

Once he was certain Damon had left, he sat next to his cousin.

"Twenty-four. You're luckier than I am."

Luck. What a joke!

"There is no luck in this."

Cassandre was right. Yet she wasn't. She was lucky in her misfortune. A lot more than he had been.

"At least you're an adult. I was only fifteen. Your father?"

"Abroad. With yours."

That was surprising. Edward Saltzman usually stayed away from the rest of the family, and so did Alden Saltzman. The two brothers were in good terms, but seeing each other was too much of a reminder of their sister Landyn, the current head of the family.

But it wasn't the moment to ask. Cassandre needed his attention, and privacy.

That was why Alaric couldn't let Damon hear what was going to be said. His family legacy wasn't so much compared to the well-being of his cousin.

"And your brother?"

"He got a contract in Philadelphia. And he is one of those amongst us who chose to embrace what we are. I want nothing to do with such a person. Besides, you were always my favourite cousin, and I like to think we're somewhat similar, family inheritance put aside."

The teacher could only agree. No one outside of the main house wanted anything to do with Theodoric. To put it simply, Theodoric was the worst of the Saltzmans currently alive. If Ric were to compare Cassandre's brother to Damon, the vampire would have won in terms of humanity.

"And what happened exactly?"

What Cassandre needed right now was someone to talk to, and not a psychopath who'd tell her it was absolutely normal not to care at all. Someone like Alaric, who had always hated this side of his personality, and yet had managed to move on.

The thing was that she didn't know what he had been up to since Isobel's disappearance. Ric ignored this thought. He still hated being as he was, even if he used it to his advantage. He could be of help.

"Forty-eight years old. He grabbed me outside of the university. I was late, it was dark. I think he wanted to rape me."

A lot more common than Ric's. For him, it had been a hold-up at the bank. Dozens of people had seen him. Even if his name had never been given to the media, he had seen his face in the newspapers for days.

No one was ever spared by their own, personal, family curse.