L. Smith - Moonsong

“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 wel but not too wel , 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.”

17

“That was amazing! Seriously,” Bonnie said happily, skipping along with her hand in Zander’s. “I am, like, the Queen of Quarters. Who knew I had this hidden talent?” Laughing, Zander threw his arm around her shoulders and pul ed her closer. “You are pretty awesome,” he agreed. “Drinking games, visions, astrology. Any other skil s I should know about?”

Snuggling against him, Bonnie frowned in mock concentration. “Not that I can think of. Just be aware of my general wonderfulness.” His T-shirt was soft and worn, and Bonnie tilted her head a bit to rest her cheek against it. “I’m glad we got our friends together,” she said. “I thought Marcus and Meredith real y hit it off, didn’t you? Not romantical y, at al , which is good since Meredith has a super-serious boyfriend, but it was like they shared the same secret jock language. Maybe we can al hang out in a group again sometime.”