Chapter Fifteen, The Big Bad Wolf

When I'd done the locating spell, after having sneaked into Tyler's bedroom and after searching through it (deciding to use a picture and his well-hidden teddybear from a forgotten childhood beneath a loose floorboard under his bed), I'd looked up the way on Google maps. Eventually, I'd decided on taking the train and the bus, travelling after him.

After arriving at the Central station of Charlotteville I'd taken the Metro, and then hired a rental car to get as far up into the mountains as possible. I'd found Tyler and Jules (who'd definitely tried to kill me) easily enough. As well as the Wolfpack she now travelled with. To be honest, it was almost anti-climatic the way I managed to take them down.

I guessed I was that angry and as my magic ran wild, even several trees cracking under its pressure. The only one who hadn't been treated to a massive aneurism was Tyler. Every other had dropped like lead balloons and Tyler had watched me wide-eyed as I'd turned to Jules, fully intending to repay the due. I didn't think she found me as useless as I'd often felt and I was already whispering my next spell. Fires had started around me, around Jules and I was hurting her. I meant to hurt her, chanting; "Phasmatos Morsinus Pyrox Allum," and watched in satisfaction as Jules writhed on the forest floor. I was under the impression I was doing well. Doing very well, until Tyler had started pleading. Had started pleading to not do it.

My best friend—

And that was probably exactly why I let the spell up, leaving Jules twitching on the forest floor, blood already drying around her ears, her nose and her eyes. I'd never been this angry— and equally as hurt.

My teeth ground together in fury and irritation as I emerged from the metro station again, my hair pulled together in a short ponytail, only to be drenched by an onslaught of rain. The sky was a dark, swirling grey and I curled my fingers tightly around the strap of my weekend bag. I would admit it if only to myself. I was furious. I'd known of course that Tyler would never purposefully hurt me, but to see him stand up for the woman who'd almost caused my early demise, that was a slap in the face I hadn't been expecting. How could my best friend choose some random girl's side?

Jules had tried to murder me and Tyler acted like she hadn't meant for anything bad to happen. The accident had still fractured my spine and if was only because of the woman calling herself my birthmother that I held no lasting scars and limps. The heavy rain had already saturated my clothes to my body and I took shelter beneath the doorway of what looked like a museum.

My eyebrows furrowed in thought. How long had it been when I and Tyler or even me and Jeremy used to draw together in the kitchen of my parents home? Or the way we'd browse through art catalogues and I missed the time where everything was easier. Mystic Falls was still a good hour with the bus and I glanced down the entrance hall, down the gleaming marble floor.

Browsing through a museum, a jolt of need curled around my spine...

While I was here, I could pretend to be normal for a moment. Could even pretend I was here with the school acting as if I was displeased about being there but secretly loving it and I bought a ticket at the register. A red-headed woman grinned at me in a way that reminded me painfully of my mom and after thanking her, I quickened my pace.

After leaving my jacket and my bag at the garderobe, I took a flight of stairs upstairs. The cold marble stones sounded hollow beneath my combat boots, echoing in the quiet hallway and I raked my fingers through my unruly hair, wrestling it back into a curly ponytail before stepping out into a large spacious pale hall with tints of gold and bronze. A numerous amount of paintings, oil and otherwise, hung on the walls, golden plaques beneath describing the name and artist that made them.

I'd breezed past most landscapes, enjoying the wildlife and medieval portraits more and by the time I'd been there for a bit over an hour, my anger had died down to a rumbling irritation. Outside the rain had lessened to a soft pitter-patter against the windows of the museum and I listened absentmindedly to a guide who was guiding an elderly couple around. I'd followed them for a while, following the way the guide would explain the time in which a painting was made and what he thought was reflected in one.

I was perfectly content for a moment and stopped in front of a green landscape with three dark-cloaked people crouching in front of a narrow river. In the distance, dark clouds were gathered and somehow I found myself staring at it, head cocked to the side.

Even after the elderly couple had left, hurrying along the spacious hall to the next painting, I remained in front of it.

"What do you think, Luv?" A voice next to me inquired and I almost dropped my bag, twirling around to the man that had stopped next to me. He was taller than me (wasn't everyone), yet not that tall, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a matching dark henley and as he turned to smile at me his lips spread wide enough that dimples appeared into his cheeks.

I rolled my shoulders, trying not to blink stupidly, profusely at him and said: "I— It's good I guess. Pretty accurate. A bit like nothing lasts forever?"

He pursed his lips indulgently, and I let my eyes flit over his face again. He was quite handsome, twenty-something, with curls the colour of burned sugar, the longer locks a blond caramel and along his square jawline was the suggestion of stubble. "I could follow the assessment."

"Hm,"

"You're alone?"

"Yes," I agreed, belatedly realising that telling an unknown man I was here alone might not be my wisest idea. Then again, after all the mumbo-jumbo I'd been through, I doubted a man not much older than me, would try and off me in a museum. He seemed amused as if he too was realising it wasn't exactly a wise thing to do.

"What do you think it means?" I asked, more out of courtesy than real curiosity. I was still a bit too annoyed with Tyler to find my usual curiosity.

"Life and what it means to be mortal."

"That's—" I mulled over my words for a moment before looking at him again, "—I suppose we both have a rather pessimistic view on the world."

That made him laugh, rich and strong, which brightened his face, eyes glinting: "What a view of the world we have, Sweetheart. This hardly the best example of Richard's work, though."

"You're from England?" I asked, and he waved to the next painting with two fishermen on a little fisher boat being pushed around on a very unstable, swirling sea. I fell into an easy step with him.

"I've been to a lot of places." He answered and my curiosity was truly piqued.

"That's very vague," I muttered and he grinned at me, waving his hands to a beautiful medieval painting, explaining how the period was palpable in the brush strokes. I gave him an amused smile when he lost himself a bit in the next one and at some point, as he offered me a cup of coffee, I realised I hadn't even asked his name. It felt a bit silly to try and ask him now and as he led me out of the museum I cunningly pointed at a Starbucks.

"Really Sweetheart?"

"Their coffee is good," I responded unapologetically and he shrugged before following me across the street, for all appearances indulging me. The street was still wet and the sky a swirling mass of dark grey, and we had to skip over the many puddles of dark, muddy water on the uneven sidewalk. However, inside the coffee shop, it was pleasantly warm. Beams of faint sunlight falling in through the dimmed windows and I rolled the sleeves of my button-up up over my elbows.

"Any suggestions?" He asked eyeing a woman who was tending to the scratched knee of a little boy before rolling his eyes at me. I sniggered, which made the mother's eyes flash in irritation and I turned towards the man again.

"Depends on what you like," I answered, ignoring the furious stare the mother was giving me and pointed at the colourfully decorated blackboard. "I'm quite taken with their Frappuccinos, but their hot drinks are good too. Perhaps a cappuccino with a shot of pumpkin spice or I don't know, hazelnut?"

He cocked his head to the side and I ordered an iced coffee without whipped cream and with an extra pump of hazelnut and waited patiently as my all-knowing art mystery man ordered his cappuccino with a pump of spicy pumpkin ('an autumn flavour').

"What name shall I put on the cup?" The perky blonde barista asked and I peered at him from my peripheral vision.

"Nick," he stated pleasantly and I grinned smugly. Mission accomplished.

I fell back in a booth at the back of the cafe and nursed my iced coffee with a content smile, while Nick was sniffing his drink with a look I'd call contempt. "I'm sure they didn't poison it."

He rolled his shoulders and I sat back, intertwining my fingers around the To-Go-Cup: "You said you went to a lot of places?"

"I did," he agreed and I curiously cocked my head to the side.

"Where have you been?"

"Several places in Europe, briefly to Asia, lived in New Orleans for a while. Quite enjoyed it there."

I nodded: "I've been to England for an exchange project. That was rather enjoyable."

"Rather enjoyable?"

"We didn't do a lot of sight-seeing. The school, boarding school, was in a village East and although I liked it, I didn't see much of the country."

"Were your parents comfortable with you leaving for Europe?" He asked and my shoulders locked, muscles tense waiting for the raw pain to constrict my stomach and make breathing difficult. It was there but for once, with someone who didn't know my parents or who hadn't meant to push me for a knee-jerk reaction to freeze, it wasn't as all-consuming.

"They died, almost a year ago."

"Ah," he responded, "I'm sorry to hear. No other family?"

"Oh, no, I do have some family. I've got a brother and a sister. We live with my aunt and she's wonderful." I softly explained. "And my uncle— I didn't like him at first, not so much at least, but now—"

"It sounds complicated."

I grinned and took a long sip of my drink: "It could be worse. Do you have siblings? You mentioned you'd travelled— How old are you?"

"You've got many questions." He told me and I shrugged unapologetically. His eyebrows furrowed in thought while a frown passed over his lips and he seemed to consider my questions for a while: "Let me see, I have three brothers and one little sister— I adore to travel, at some point the same old town gets boring and I'm twenty-one years old. And you, you look a little young for your private excursion."

Unsure if I should feel annoyed about that comment or not, I chose to absorb the information he provided me with and crossed my ankles: "I'll turn seventeen in three weeks so I am not that young."

"A minor," he told me dryly, obviously making fun of me and I took another long sip of my drink.

"Legally," I agreed, marshalling my thoughts a bit before continuing, "Do you study?"

"Art." I thought that was very vague and wrapped my arm loosely around my knee and he smiled. "It calms me."

"You paint?" I guessed, which would be quite fitting with all his knowledge of the works in the museum and he nodded in agreement.

"I do," and reached over to pick up a coaster and turned it around, revealing the unblemished carton underside before yanking a pen free from the pocket of his pants. I curiously stared at him as he crossed his legs and used his knee to settle the coaster on and I watched him curiously as he started to sketch.

"What are you doing?" I asked after a moment and he smirked balefully, reminding me of Jeremy when he tried to hide something from me and huffed. Men were all alike weren't they— just like children. "Really now—"

"Don't frown, Luv, it's unbecoming." He told me and I craned my neck. He was drawing a face and for a moment I was supremely impressed because he was almost exactly copying my eyes.

"You're good," I whispered, the awe in my voice heightening it and he grinned again. Good was an understatement. I knew no one who could draw like that and I'd drawn with Tyler for as long as I could remember. I would never say I was the best but it was my creative drawing that qualified me for the exchange program (and I had decent grades that helped a little bit too) and I was almost ready to tell him to move over and start explaining why he started with the eyes instead of the rounding of the face. "You're really, really good!"

"Move back to your original position, Luv."

I didn't argue and leant back, my hands fisting around my upper arms. The next fifteen minutes passed by quickly, with Nick muttering instructions to lower my head a bit, to smile, to pull my hair free from the messy ponytail I'd managed to pull it in and I laughed when he said something entirely improper about the annoying mother ('She and whoever shouldn't have bothered with those genes') who was still fuzzing over her screaming toddler.

"There. Here you go!" He announced and I jerked to my feet, hurried around the booth and leant my arms on the back of his seat, staring at my face. My hair was just as unruly as it was in real life, as it been ever since I'd had the questionable good idea to cut it and I blinked.

"Wow— I get why you are into art! This is so good!"

He smiled, offering it to me and I almost snatched it from his fingers staring at it happily. "So a sister?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "Elena, she's the oldest."

"Elena."

"Hm," I agreed, "I'm actually surprised she hasn't called me by now."

"Overbearing?"

"Older siblings are often like that, in my experience." I retorted before frowning. "Actually, younger siblings tend to do that too. My younger brother doesn't let me dote too much on him anymore either."

"Family is everything." He agreed.

I smiled ruefully: "I used to think family was more than just blood."

"More than blood?" He had turned in his seat, turning the ballpoint pen through his fingers and again, for all appearances, indulging me.

"Yeah, I used to think my best friend was practically the best family I'd got. We shared everything— Why am I even— I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm even telling you this. I'm sure you have more interesting things to listen to." I muttered, averting my eyes to the coaster again. From the artfully drawn lines of my oval face and almond-shaped eyes to my wealth of frizzy, curly hair.

"A bit of a luvrs' tiff?"

I almost laughed at that: "No, although I'm sure his mother thinks differently, we've never been lovers. Not like that. Anyway—" I bit my lower lip, staring at the colourful display of my cellphone. It was almost five o'clock and I still had to return home. A journey that would take me over an hour and I moved back to my seat, swallowed the last of my iced coffee and adjusted the straps of my bag.

"You only have one friend?" Nick asked and I shrugged. "How about your sister? Don't girls like to do things together?"

"My sister has other friends. Two actually— Oh, and a boyfriend of course."

"You don't approve?"

I rolled my shoulders: "It's not like that. Elena— her boyfriend is nice enough, but he has a big brother. I'm pretty sure there is a reason why almost everyone at school thinks she's dating them both." I pressed my lips together at that because while true, I didn't think my sister was stringing them both along, however, even I could see that there was a spark between Damon and Elena.

"Two brothers?"

"Yeah, Stefan and Damon—" I agreed, sticking the coaster in my wallet to preserve it and shouldered my bag.

"They don't have a last name?" His question was not strange per se, but it struck me as odd. I hadn't supplied him with my surname yet, he hadn't asked, and his curiosity at the vampire brothers—

However, the best way to get out of there would be to play along and who knew. Perhaps I was just cautious for nothing: "Oh, Salvatore— I do have to go. My aunt will lose her shit if I'm not home at seven sharpish."

"Hm," he hummed watching me with an expression I couldn't quite name before I pulled down the sleeves of my button-up and shrugged on my jacket. Outside the late sultry, afternoon sunlight and the blueish sky were reflected like mirrors in the puddles on the sidewalk and I managed a smile.

"Well," I said, zipping my jacket up as far as it would go, "it was nice meeting you, Nick. I hope you'll enjoy any further travelling."

"Niklaus, really."

"Niklaus?" I echoed dumbly and he grinned.

"Yes," he agreed, "Although usually, people call me Klaus."

I scrambled to my feet, my face blanching and he watched me like an amused cat. My breathing sped up and I made an attempt for the door. He appeared in front of me a moment later, intercepting me before I'd even made it across half of the room and I screamed. Vases and glasses shattered in the surge of magic that ran free and he grunted when it smacked him against the glass of the door. It cracked from the impact before cracking open. I'd never moved quite as fast, but I shouldered my way out of the Starbucks. In my haste, I almost slipped on the damp, uneven stones of the sidewalk. I was quite sure I'd never been this scared before and as I ran, I dared a look over my shoulder. A mistake on my part. He'd moved so fast, I only saw a blur and suddenly his arm wrapped around my waist, fingers of his left-hand curling against the underside of my ribcage while the other found purchase in my hair.

I froze when his lips trailed down the side of my neck, his breath fanning out over a tender, shallow spot: "Now, now, Luv, that wasn't very nice."

"Get off! Get off!" I shrieked and although several pedestrians looked up from my high pitched screams, their eyes were glazed and dazed to the point they averted their eyes. "Get off of me, please get off!"

"And let you run back to your little friends? No, I don't think so." He whispered and I tried to slow my breathing, concentrating on giving him a headache but he opened his mouth against my throat and I screamed when his fangs dug into my skin. It was painful, he wasn't gentle (which I realised Damon had been when he'd bitten me) and a sharp rush of pain shot through the adjacent veins in my neck. My mind was in shambles and I was quickly starting to feel light-headed and impossibly dizzy. Before I passed out, I managed to look at Niklaus' face; his eyes tinging the vainest hue of amber.

When I woke up again I was somewhere cramped and dark. My breath was shaky and shallow and I rolled onto my back. Inhaling deeply, I pressed my hands against the roof of wherever I was and kicked out. Which was a stupid move. My knee collided painfully with the metal above me and a zing of pain travelled down my calves.

"Fuck!"

I couldn't even stretch my legs all the way, and from the side a reddish hue was visible. I guessed I was in the back of a car. In the back of a car and I couldn't get out. My hands had been tied together. It didn't stop me from struggling against my bonds, hitting my knees several times more and moaning pathetically. The car beneath me was humming rhythmically, vibrating softly and the hairs on my arms stood on end. I tried to think of a spell I could use, but nothing came to mind and when the car stopped and I heard a door slam, I froze; almost too terrified to breathe. The gravel crunched beneath someone's feet and although I felt my heartbeat erratically against my chest, I had to do something. I closed my eyes. They were talking, but I couldn't hear what it was they were saying.

When the voices stopped, I was ready. The footsteps were coming my way and when the trunk was unlatched I kicked out as harshly as I could. He had been prepared for me, easily pushed past my flying legs and grabbed my ankles beneath one arm, before yanking me up and about by my wrists.

"Ruv, there is no need for that."

"There is every need for that." I spluttered back when the gag drew back and I felt my face flush. "You— You kidnapped me."

"Hardly," he tutted. "Calling it kidnapping, you make it sound as if it was an effort. Do people tell you often you're a bit too trusting?"

"Normal people cannot compel a fucking town!" I snapped back. "If you were a normal man I would have had nothing to fear when surrounded by so many people."

He pursed his lips as if he hadn't thought about that and I seriously considered trying to kick him where it would hurt most. That idea quickly lost its merit when veins popped up around his eyes and he yanked me to my feet. "Can you walk, sweetheart?"

He didn't seem to care for my reply and hoisted me up, my answer still stuck in my throat. There were still specks of blood, sticky-dry, on his chin and neck and I tried to push my heels into the soft muddy ground for purchase. That did not work, of course, and he easily carried me inside the house he'd parked in front. I felt as if I was being escorted to my doom.

To be continued...

A/N: Isobel Flemming selling her children out since 2010. Mother of the year, honestly. But, Samantha doesn't know that. She might never know, but it was never really meant to be a secret. How else would Klaus have known to go after the witch of the family? Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this. At first, I was planning on writing a more thorough description of Samantha going after Jules, but then I reconsidered. When you're angry you often don't think clearly. I hope I managed to convey that with this chapter.

And of course, we meet Klaus.

Personally, I like Klaus. He's an arsehole for sure, but there are so many possibilities with his character. Such a lovely chance for a redemption arc and— let's face it. Klaus truly was the character out of nightmares, but he's such a great villain to write. According to the Martins' Klaus enslaved generations of witches to help him break his curse. What is one more in the grand scheme of things? As for Samantha trusting him. I think Klaus would know how to get people to trust him. Besides, all things aside, Samantha is only sixteen years old. In the end, she's still a kid.

Anyway, the next chapter next week!

I hope you all enjoyed this one and of course, let me know what you all think!