The Hunters: Moonsong (The Vampire Diaries #2)

The Hunters: Moonsong (The Vampire Diaries #2) Page 16

When Stefan walked by Elena's room again, the daisy was gone, and the subtle scent of her citrusy shampoo lingered in the hal way.

No doubt she was out with Meredith and Bonnie, and he could depend upon Meredith to protect her. He wondered if Damon was watching them, if he'd approach Elena. A bitter strand of envy curled in Stefan's stomach. It was hard being the good one sometimes, the one who would abide by the rules, while Damon did whatever he wanted.

He leaned back against the door to Elena's room.

There was a window across the hal , and as he watched the cold crescent of the moon sailing high in the sky, he thought of his silent room, of the books of economics and philosophy waiting for him.

No. He wasn't going back there. He couldn't be with Elena, but he didn't have to be alone.

Outside, there was a chil in the air for the first time since school had started; the sultry heat of a Virginia summer was final y giving way to autumn. Stefan hunched his shoulders and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.

Not real y knowing where he was going, Stefan headed off campus. Vague thoughts of hunting in the woods crossed his mind, but he wasn't hungry, just restless, and he turned away from the trail that led that way. Instead he wandered the streets of the smal town around the col ege.

There wasn't much to do. There were a few bars hopping with col ege kids and a couple of restaurants, already closed up. Stefan couldn't imagine wanting to press into a hot and crowded bar right now. He wanted to be around people, maybe, but not too many, not too close, not close enough to sense the thrum of blood beneath their skins. When he was unhappy, like tonight, he could feel something hard and dangerous rising up inside him, and he knew he needed to be careful of the monster he carried within him.

He turned down another block, listening to the soft pad of his own steps against the sidewalk. Near the end of the street, a faint thud of music came from a dilapidated building whose buzzing neon sign read EDDIE'S BILLIARDS.

None of the few cars in the parking lot had a Dalcrest parking sticker. Clearly a townie spot, not a student one.

If Stefan hadn't had this burning, angry loneliness inside him, he wouldn't have gone in. He looked like a student - he was a student - and this didn't look like a place that welcomed students. But the ugly thing inside him stirred at the thought of maybe having a reason to throw a punch or two.

Inside, it was Welllit but dingy, the air thick and blue with smoke. An old rock song was playing on a jukebox in the corner. Six pool tables sat in the middle of the room, with smal round tables around the sides, and a bar at the far end. Two of the pool tables and a few of the round tables were occupied by locals, who let their eyes drift over him neutral y and then turned away.

At the bar, Stefan saw a familiar back, a sleek dark head. Even though he'd been sure Damon would be fol owing Elena, he wasn't surprised to see him. Stefan had reined his Power in, concentrating on his own misery, but he'd always been able to sense his brother. If he had thought about it, he would have known Damon was there.

Damon, equal y unsurprised, turned and tipped his glass to Stefan with a wry little grin. Stefan went over to join him.

"Hel o, little brother," Damon said softly when Stefan sat down. "Shouldn't you be holed up somewhere, crying over your loss of the lovely Elena?"

Stefan sighed and slumped on the barstool. Propping his elbows on the bar, he rested his head on his hands.

Suddenly, he was terribly tired. "Let's not talk about Elena," he said. "I don't want to fight with you, Damon."

"Then don't." Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Damon was up and out of his seat. "Let's play some pool." One thing about living for hundreds of years, Stefan knew, was that you had time to get real y good at things.

Versions of bil iards had been around as long as he and Damon had, although he liked the modern version best - he liked the smel of the chalk and the squeak of the leather tip on the cue.

Damon's thoughts seemed to be running on the same track. "Remember when we were kids and we used to play bil iart on the lawns of Father's palazzo?" he asked as he racked up the bal s.

"Different game, though, back then," Stefan said. "Go ahead and break."

He could picture it clearly, the two of them fooling around when the adults were al inside, shoving the bal s across the grass toward their targets with the heavy-headed maces, in a game that was a cross between modern pool and croquet. Back in those days, Damon was wild, prone to fights with stable boys and nights prowling the streets, but not yet as angry as he would be by the time they grew into young men. Back then, he let his adoring, more timid younger brother trail after him and have a share in his adventures.

Elena was right about one thing, he admitted to himself.

He liked hanging out with Damon, being brothers again.

When he'd spotted Damon at the bar just now, he'd felt a little lightening of the loneliness he was carrying around with him. Damon was the only person who remembered him as a child, the only person who remembered him alive.

Maybe they could be friends, without Katherine or Elena between them for a while. Maybe something good could come out of this.

Bil iart, bil iards, or pool, Damon had always liked playing. He was better than Stefan, and, after hundreds of years of practice, Stefan was pretty good.

Which was why Stefan was so surprised when Damon's break sent bal s spinning merrily al over the table, but none into the pockets.

"What's up?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Damon as he chalked his own cue.

I've been watching the locals, Damon said silently.

There are a couple of slick hustlers in here. I want to draw them over to us. Hustle them for a change.

Come on, Damon added quickly when Stefan hesitated. It's not wrong to hustle hustlers. It's like killing murderers, a public service.

Your moral compass is seriously skewed, Stefan shot back at him, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling.

What was the harm, real y? "Two bal in the corner pocket," he added aloud. He made the shot and sank two more bal s before intentional y scratching and stepping back to let Damon take his turn.

They went on like that, playing pretty Wellbut not too Well, careful to look like a couple of cocky col ege kids who knew their way around a pool cue but would be no chal enge to a professional hustler. Damon's pretense of frustration when he missed a shot amused Stefan. Stefan had forgotten, it was fun to be part of Damon's schemes.

Stefan won by a couple of bal s, and Damon whipped out a wal et ful of money.

"You got me, man," he said in a slightly drunken voice that didn't sound quite like his own and held out a twenty.

Stefan blinked at him.

Take it, Damon thought at him. Something about the set of his jaw reminded Stefan again of the way Damon was when they were children, of the way he lied to their father about his misadventures, confident Stefan would back him up. Damon was trusting him without even thinking about it, Stefan realized.

Stefan smiled and slipped it into his back pocket. "Rack'em up again?" he suggested, and realized he was also pitching his voice a little younger, a little drunker, than he normal y would.

They played another game, and Stefan handed the twenty back. "Another?" he asked.

Damon started to rack the bal s, and then his hands slowed. He flicked a glance up at Stefan and then back down at the bal s. "Listen," he said, taking a deep breath,

"I'm sorry for what's happening with Elena. If I - " He hesitated. "I can't just stop feeling the way I do about her, but I didn't mean to make things harder for you. Or for her." Stefan stared at him. Damon never apologized. Was he serious? "I - thank you," he said.

Damon looked past him and his mouth twitched into his sudden, bril iant smile. Bait taken, he said silently. So much for the heartfelt brother moment.

Two guys were coming toward them. One was short and slight with sandy hair, the other big, bulky, and dark.

"Hi," the shorter one said. "We wondered if you guys wanted to play teams, mix it up a little." His smile was bright and easy, but his eyes were shrewd and watchful. The eyes of a predator.

Their names were Jimmy and David, and they were real pros. They kept the games close, waiting until after the third game to suggest raising the stakes to make things a little more interesting.

"A hundred?" Jimmy suggested casual y. "I can just about do it, if you want."

"How about more?" Damon said, sounding drunk again.

"Stefan, you stil got that five hundred in your wal et?" Stefan didn't, nowhere near it, but he didn't think he'd need to pay up. He nodded but, at a glance from Damon, played reluctant. "I don't know, Damon..." he said.

"Don't worry about it," Damon said expansively. "Easy money, right?"

Jimmy was watching them, his eyes alert. "Five hundred it is," he agreed, smiling.

"I'l break," Damon said, and went into action. After a moment, Stefan rested his pool cue against the wal . He wasn't going to get a chance to shoot, none of them were; Damon was moving with clockwork precision to pocket one bal after another.

He wasn't making any effort to hide that he and Stefan had been running a hustle, and Jimmy's and David's faces darkened dangerously as the last few bal s rattled into their pockets.

"Pay up," Damon demanded sharply, setting down his cue.

Jimmy and David were moving toward them, scowling.

"You two think you're real smart, don't you?" David growled.

Stefan poised himself on both feet, ready to fight or run, whatever Damon wanted. They wouldn't have any trouble fending off these guys, but with the disappearances and attacks al over campus, he'd rather not cal attention to themselves.

Damon, cool and relaxed, gazed at Jimmy and David, his hands open. "I think you want to pay us the money you owe us," he said calmly.

"Oh, that's what you think, do you?" Jimmy said sarcastical y. He shifted his grip on his pool cue, and now he was holding it more like a weapon.

Damon smiled and unleashed a wave of Power into the room. Even Stefan, who was half expecting it, was chil ed as Damon lifted his human mask for a moment, his black eyes cold and deadly. Jimmy and David staggered backward as if they'd been shoved by invisible hands.

"Okay, don't get upset," Jimmy said, his voice shaking.

David was blinking as if he had been slapped with a wet towel, clearly unsure of what had just happened. Jimmy opened his wal et and counted out five hundred dol ars in fifties into Damon's hand.

"Now it's time for you to go home," Damon said softly.

"Maybe you don't want to play pool for a while." Jimmy nodded and didn't seem to be able to stop nodding, his head bobbing like it was on a spring. He and David backed away, moving quickly toward the door.

"Scary," Stefan commented. There was a hol ow place inside his chest stil , an empty ache of missing Elena, but he felt better than he had since that day she walked out the door alone. Tonight, he realized with a slight shock, he'd had fun with Damon.

"Oh, I'm a terror," Damon agreed lightly, pocketing al the money. Stefan raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't care about the money, but it was typical of Damon to assume it was his. Damon grinned. "Come on, little brother, I'l buy you a drink."