The Grill was the social heart of Mystic Falls, which essentially made it a high-end buffet for anything with fangs.
I sat at the bar, nursing a bourbon that tasted like watered-down disappointment compared to the stuff my "uncle" kept in the cellar back in the city. I wasn't here for the drink, though. I was here for the ripples.
In a town like this, a Hunter's presence is a stone dropped into a still pond. The water doesn't just move; it reacts.
"You're the new guy," a voice drawled behind me.
I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The air behind me suddenly felt like a static charge arrogant, ancient, and smelling of expensive leather and old blood.
"And you're the 'bad' brother," I said, swirling the ice in my glass. "Damon, right? I'd say it's a pleasure, but I've been trained not to lie to my food."
I heard a sharp intake of breath—a mock gasp. Damon Salvatore swiveled the stool next to me and sat down. He was leaning in, his eyes wide and bright with a predatory curiosity. Up close, I could see the way his pupils dilated. My blood was singing to him, a siren song of "Universal" quality that usually turned vampires into junkies.
"You've got a lot of nerve for someone whose neck looks that soft," Damon whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Stefan told me about you. Said you were... intense. But he didn't mention you smelled like a literal miracle."
I finally turned my head, meeting his gaze with my glacial blue eyes. I didn't look away. Most humans flinch when a vampire locks onto them; the Hunter in me just looked for the most efficient way to sever his carotid artery.
"It's a gift," I said, flashing a smirk that was all teeth. "It draws you in, doesn't it? Makes you want to skip the foreplay and go straight for the vein. But here's the problem, Damon: I'm the poison at the bottom of the bottle."
Damon's smirk didn't falter, but his jaw tightened. "You talk a big game for a mortal. What are you, some kind of legacy? Van Helsing's long-lost emo cousin?"
"Something like that," I mused. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, jagged piece of dark wood—white oak, tipped with a silver alloy. I rolled it over my knuckles like a coin. "My family doesn't use names you'd find in a history book. We're the footnotes. The reason certain 'accidents' happen to certain 'people' who live too long."
Damon's eyes tracked the movement of the stake. The atmosphere between us turned from a flirtation with death into a promise of it.
"You think you're the first Hunter to walk into this town?" Damon asked, his voice dropping an octave. "I've killed dozens of you. You bleed just like the rest."
"Oh, I definitely bleed," I agreed, leaning in until we were inches apart. "But you should ask yourself: why did Stefan come home looking like he'd seen a ghost today? And why am I sitting here, completely unbothered, while you're vibrating with the urge to rip my head off?"
I patted his cheek a move so patronizing it was practically a death wish.
"It's because you know," I whispered. "Deep down in those dried-up instincts, you know that if you move, I move. And I'm faster than the stories told you I'd be."
Damon's face shifted for a split second—the veins beneath his eyes darkened, his fangs threatening to drop. Then, with a Herculean effort of will, he forced the mask back on. He laughed, a dry, barking sound.
"You're fun. I think I'll keep you for a while. Maybe see how long it takes for that confidence to turn into a scream."
"I'll put it on my calendar," I said, standing up and tossing a few bills onto the bar. "But fair warning I don't play well with others. Just ask the last guy who tried to 'keep' me. They're still looking for his left leg in the Blue Ridge Mountains."
I walked toward the exit, feeling his eyes burning into my back.
As I stepped out into the cool night air, I felt another presence. Not a vampire. Something... buzzier.
Bonnie Bennett was standing by her car, clutching her keys. She was staring at me with a look of pure confusion. To a witch, I probably looked like a void in the natural order—a human with a hunter's soul and blood that defied the laws of magic.
"Kaelen, right?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm Bonnie. I'm a friend of Elena's."
"I know who you are, Bonnie," I said, my voice softening just a fraction. I didn't hate witches; they were the janitors of the supernatural world, constantly cleaning up the vampires' messes. "You've got a lot of power tucked away in those genes. Pity you're wasting it being a shield for bloodsuckers."
Bonnie stiffened. "They're my friends."
"They're predators," I corrected, stepping closer. "And predators don't have friends. They have pets, and they have snacks. Which one are you tonight?"
Before she could respond, a scream echoed from the woods near the old cemetery.
It wasn't a human scream. It was the sound of a vampire being caught in something they couldn't escape.
I checked the silver-trimmed watch on my wrist.
"Right on time," I murmured. I looked at Bonnie and winked. "Stay here, little witch. The adults are going to work."
I broke into a run, disappearing into the shadows of the forest with a speed that shouldn't have been humanly possible.
The hunt wasn't just beginning. It was already underway.