And that's all for tonight, folks! I'll try to post ten other chapters tomorrow.
I'm so sorry, Ric. I worsened your life a little more. You won't mind, will you?
Adjusting to our reality, part 20: Because today is sunday
Damon was kind of ashamed of himself for thinking that Ric was even sexier when he pictured the hunter covered in blood. Not that it wasn't the truth, blood really suited him. But now wasn't the time, everybody was serious as hell, so maybe the vampire should keep his fantasies down.
"Can I ask a question, Mr. Saltzman?"
And there he was, ruining the mood. Damon really couldn't behave, could he?
Alaric raised an eyebrow, not even annoyed. When you were friends with Damon Salvatore, you learned to be tolerant pretty fast.
"How come you're here with us, moreover a high school teacher, if you killed a man before the eyes of dozens of people?"
"If you know how to read, you'll find the answer in this article."
"I'm illiterate."
As hell he was. But Alaric wasn't in the mood to feel offended. After all, he knew how to deal with his best friend's cheekiness. He had a lot of practice.
"I'll play along, then. Hold-up in a bank, one of the perps threatened a child when the police arrived, and things were going bad for his accomplices, so he shot a man in the leg and turned his weapon to the kid's face. He had this knife in his other hand, I was on the floor, next to him, and I did what I thought was the best at the time. The other criminals had been knocked out, but we were too far away, the police was unlikely make it in time. I caught his leg, pulled him to the ground, he struggled, I snapped his wrist, he tried to shoot me, I had my hand on the knife. He shot the ground next to my head. I sliced his throat. End of story."
For the man it really had been end of his story.
For the teenager, it had led to a very particular outcome. He hadn't been an adult to begin with, and his family wasn't to be taken lightly. He had saved a child's life, as it later appeared that the assaulter had a record which seemed to denote a certain tendency to extreme violence. It was clearly a case of self-defense, the bullet impact on the floor of the bank could attest to it.
No charges could be brought against him, but rumors couldn't be avoided. People were saying things behind his back, how odd it was that the boy in the pictures looked a bit like the student who hadn't come to school since the hold-up, why was everyone forbidden to go and see Ric? The police and the psychologist he had been sent to to make sure he was okay after the events were giving him the cold shoulder because he actually was okay. Sometimes, being traumatized was better.
Saying it out loud made Ric feel relieved. Complaining could be a great way to let off some steam.
"So you're kind of a human killing machine, if I got it right?"
That hurt. A lot. And it was true. It was so fucking true Damon could see the shame in Alaric's eyes.
But the way Vanessa said it wasn't harsh or anything. Actually, she was more like sparlkles in the eyes and repressed smile from ear to ear. She was way too enthusiastic for someone who just heard there were psychos out there who were pretty much born to kill.
As Isobel had been obsessed with people who ate humans.
Let's hope Vanessa wouldn't end up being a soulless bitch one of those days.
The only answer Ric gave her was throwing a shirt stained with dried blood, which was way too small for him now, in her arms. It looked like someone had bleed all of their blood over it. And it was probably the case.
"You still have the clothes you wore back then?"
"If you read the book Isobel had in her drawer carefully, you know we have our rituals. Keeping what has been desecrated during our first kill is a custom most of us still follow, though I don't have the knife, as it's a piece of evidence."
Alaric guessed the young woman was just going to annoy him some more when she finally yawned.
Fatigue saved the natural born killer.
"Sorry, I haven't sleep for hours. Maybe I should look for a motel or something."
And so she left them, alone, in a square, at dawn. Damon and the teacher exchanged a glance. This girl really was trouble.
Alaric rolled his eyes, and packed his stuff inside the cardboard box once again.
They went back to the loft, so that he could hid the box under his bed as usual. Damon was contemplating an early bourbon party, since his friend was wide awake thanks to him.
But they found Gal waiting for Ric at his doorstep, fully awake too.
The hunter checked his watch. Six in the morning.
She was wearing some high-price clothing, very classy and all, still no sleeves, but a dress this time.
Gal glanced at the carton box. There was no way she wouldn't have recognized it. That, added to the suspicious ring-wearing friend, and to the early hour, was dubious.
"What are you doing here at this hour?"
Damon was the one who had spoken first, and already Ric could see where this was going. No way he was going to enjoy a peaceful morning, right? Well, maybe if he hadn't lived in Mystic Falls. But shit, he lived there, and you had no peaceful times in Mystic Falls. When no one was trying to murder half of the town, there still was someone whose life was in danger somewhere, and when no one was about to die, people used their free time to have sentimental drama scenes.
Why was Alaric out at such an early hour? Gal could have returned the question, but no, she wouldn't, because she was a polite person. Unlike someone else.
Instead, she looked at the teacher.
"Do you know why I came yesterday?"
"Because you had a vacation?"
"Because today is sunday, and you, Alaric, have no kids to teach history to. So I'm going to have my way with you, and you will comply, as you always do."
That sounded so ambiguous to Damon that the vampire stiffened and gulped.
Ric, on the other hand, let out a vivid "No!" and locked himself in his apartment.
Gal raised an eyebrow, amused. Trying to escape, once again. She'd have to play the friendship card to get her favorite kid to do what she wanted sooner than expected.
"Come on, Ric. You know I need to relax too. It's been five years, it's not like I've asked you to do that every single day. The guys I work with in New York are great and all, but they're terrible at the same time, I won't do that, I'm a star, if it's no good it's because of you, not because of me, and so on and so forth..."
No answer.
Damon frowned, dumbfounded.
"What exactly do you want to do with him?"
Gal cocked her head slightly to the left. She had almost forgotten the man was here too.
"I'm a photographer, and Mister-reluctant is awesome when I can get him to dress appropriately and posture. And when I say awesome, I mean it."
Damon could totally agree with that. He needed to see Alaric modeling now that the woman had evoked the idea. But he couldn't imagine him doing that...
"I'm kind of baffled by the idea of Ric posturing, to tell you the truth. He's always so discreet..."
Gal grinned. Of course, no one would think that the man was able to be so yummy just because she'd ask him to.
"Well, that's because you've never met Sexylaric."
And Damon blushed.
Damn.
Damon blushed.
Damn Damon blushed.
Damned damn Damon blushed because a woman had talked about his Alaric as "Sexylaric".
And Gal couldn't overlook that. Let's turn the tables. Right now.
"What exactly do you want with him?"
The vampire tensed, and, on guard, replied.
"I asked first."
The second his mouth shut, Damon saw Ric's friend move incredibly fast, faster than any human could, faster than any werewolf could, even faster than he could. Before he could do anything, a hand was strangling him to what would have been death if he had needed to breathe, and he was pinned against the wall.
Galswinthe had those black veins under her eyes, and sharp fangs revealed by a ferocious grin.
Damon coughed blood. He most likely had a misplaced bone somewhere around his stomach, according to the pain. The unexpected collision with the wall had done damage, and some of his internal organs had been pierced by a broken rib.
Gal was strong as hell. Stronger than Damon. Stronger than Lexi. Stronger than Katherine, even.
Damon went vampire-mode too, and the grip became even more fierce. He really couldn't do anything, so he reversed to his human face.
Gal loosened her grip a little.
"Blue earrings. I wasn't mistaken."
Damon's voice was weak.
"Blue ring. The Bennett Family goes way back."
So each of them had been right about the other: both of them were vampires, and both of them were interested in Ric. How, exactly, they had no idea, but for sure, they would find out.
Galswinthe wasn't going to let any vampire near her beloved kid.
"Let me ask again: what do you want with my descendant?"
Damon's eyes widened.
It wasn't so strange. Vampires were beings that had existed for centuries, and the woman was obviously pretty old. Many humans surely had one or two fanged ancestors, or at least fanged distant cousins in their family tree.
But most of the time, vampires cut ties with their family, and if not right away, they did it after one or two centuries. If the Salvatore brothers hadn't done so yet, it was only because of convenience. And, well, Damon had kind of severed the family tree lately, so this wasn't going to be of his concern anymore. Now that he thought about it, he felt bad for killing Zach.
A blow to his stomach forced him to reconsider his priorities.
As well as Gal's tone did.
"Seeing as he showed you that box, I guess you know he's cursed, and he knows you're not human, am I right?"
"I'm the one who... turned... his wife... when she asked me to. He tried... to kill me, ... stuff happened, and now we're... besties."
This time it was Gal who was astonished – so astonished she let him go.
Damon took a look at the woman's bare shoulders. No scar. Not a Falkenbach.
After a short respite, no more than one minute, she was back on track, and if she wasn't threatening him physically anymore, her tone wasn't exactly gentle.
"You compelled him?"
"Why would I do that!? And he has vervain on him all the time, anyway."
"Good. You're so clingy around him I was wondering if you weren't using him as your personal blood bank. If you had been, I whould have taken measures, of course."
Damon wasn't going to ask what she meant when she said measures. He had a very good idea, and it wasn't to his liking at all.
"I'm not clingy."
And that sounded so false even he could hear it.
Damn it, he was being clingy.
How Alaric hadn't noticed anything yet was completely uncomprehensible.
Speaking of the hunter, Alaric opened his door again, finally resigned to accept to take part in Gal's modeling entertainment.
Gal and Damon were sitting on the floor of the corridor, with strange looks on their faces, and for once, the one who had been attacked was Damon, as the laceration in his t-shirt attested.
None of them reacted when Ric closed the door. None of them said a word when he opened it again.
It wasn't an hallucination – or if it was, it was a pretty persistent one.
"If what I see right now means what I think it means, we should go and plunder your wine cellar, Damon, because I feel I'm going to need a drink very soon."
