Alaric Saltzman didn't seem surprised when I stayed after class.
The other students filtered out, chattering about weekend plans and assignments due, leaving the two of us in the history classroom's artificial silence. I waited until the last footsteps faded before standing from my desk.
"We need to talk."
Alaric's hand moved toward the concealed weapon under his jacket—subtle, professional. "About what?"
"About the fact that you're a vampire hunter. About your wife Isobel, who disappeared while researching vampires. About the fact that I have abilities that might help you, and I need allies badly enough to offer."
The mask dropped. His expression shifted from friendly teacher to something harder, more focused. The real Alaric, stripped of pretense.
"Talk fast."
I reached into my jacket—slowly, making sure he could see my hands—and pulled out the blood bag I'd brought for this exact purpose. His eyes tracked the motion, tension coiling in his shoulders.
"Watch."
I opened the bag and let my power flow into the liquid. The blood rose, shaped itself, hardened into a small blade that hovered between us.
"I can manipulate blood," I said. "Control it, shape it into weapons, heal wounds with my own. I don't know where the ability came from, but I've had it for months. Long enough to know it's real and long enough to know it's not enough."
Alaric stared at the floating blade. "That's... not something I've ever encountered."
"I'm not a vampire. Not a witch. Something else." I dissolved the blade, let the blood splash back into the bag. "Three months ago, I started preparing for the supernatural threats in this town. I put vervain in the food at the Grill. I made protection jewelry for my girlfriend. I trained until I could form weapons in under two seconds."
"And?"
"And it wasn't enough." The words hurt to say. "Damon Salvatore turned my sister. Used her as a weapon. I tried everything I could to save her, and she died anyway. Now Damon's coming for me because I interfered with his plans, and I can't fight him alone."
Alaric was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was different—less teacher, more soldier.
"What do you know about Isobel?"
"She was your wife. Researched vampires for her graduate work. Disappeared two years ago. You came to Mystic Falls because you believe a vampire took her, and you think you'll find answers here."
"How do you know all that?"
"Internet searches and educated guessing." Not entirely a lie. "The point is, we want the same things. You want to find out what happened to your wife and kill the vampires responsible. I want to protect my friends and survive Damon Salvatore. We can help each other."
He considered that. I could see him calculating—risks and benefits, trust and necessity, the same kind of math I'd been doing since the day I woke up in Matt Donovan's body.
"Show me again," he said finally. "The blood thing."
I formed the blade again, then shifted it into a stake, then let it hover toward him like an offering. He reached out and touched it—solid, real, deadly.
"How does it work?"
"I don't fully understand it. External blood responds to my will. I can shape it, harden it, throw it. My own blood has healing properties. I can create bonds with vampires if they drink from me." I paused. "I'm trying to develop the ability to sense blood at a distance. If I can do that, I'll know when vampires are nearby before they can ambush me."
"That would be useful." He handed the stake back—or rather, let go of it, watching as I dissolved and reformed it with a thought. "I have weapons. Crossbows, vervain grenades, stakes designed to shatter and spread wooden fragments. Hunter tech accumulated over two years of research and preparation."
"I have local intelligence. I know who the vampires are in this town, what they want, where they're vulnerable."
"Then we're complementary." He extended his hand. "I won't ask you to kill for me. But I need to know you'll fight when it matters."
I showed him the scars on my palm—the thin lines where I'd cut myself dozens of times to feed my power, to heal others, to forge bonds that ultimately weren't enough.
"I already have."
We shook on it.
Alaric produced a protein bar from his desk drawer and tossed it to me. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
"I haven't." I tore open the wrapper and ate mechanically. The calories helped, even if I couldn't taste them. "Damon visited my house two nights ago. Couldn't get in, but he made it clear he's not done."
"Then we need to accelerate your training." Alaric pulled out a notepad, jotting something down. "Your blood abilities are impressive, but they're not enough on their own. What happens when you're drained or surprised?"
"I die."
"Exactly. We need to make sure that doesn't happen."
We spent the next hour mapping out a training schedule. Conventional combat three times a week. Tactical thinking exercises. Study of building layouts and escape routes. The hunter curriculum, applied to a blood mage who'd been relying too heavily on a single edge.
When I finally left the classroom, the sun was setting and my head was spinning with new information. But for the first time since Lexi's escape, I felt something like hope.
I wasn't alone anymore. Alaric Saltzman was a trained hunter with years of experience fighting vampires. Between his knowledge and my abilities, we might actually survive this.
The fight just got more even.
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