A/N: Enjoy the newest chapter! Shit will hit the fan!
o.O.o
Chapter Twelve, Betrayal
The windows rattled when the library door slammed closed and Luca Martin, new student and part-time Elena stalker, prowled inside. I had been trailing my fingers along the spines of the books in the History section, searching for a thorough history book about the sixties, when the doors slammed closed.
I craned myself around the wooden shelves crammed with books and watched as he threw himself on a chair and kicked at his rucksack. I felt my eyebrows scrunch up and kept staring at him. He was reasonably cute, with impossible dark-brown eyes and a dimpled smile but— He was also working with Elijah and the son of the warlock who, according to Jeremy, had taken Bonnie's power, so I normally stayed clear of him.
I realised belatedly he was on the phone, his mobile pressed between his right cheek and shoulder and his face seemed spooked. I wondered briefly if he was talking to Elijah. I hadn't seen the Original vampire again but I was quite sure he hadn't told on me either. If he had, I was sure Elena would have confronted me about it by now (she had always been interestingly bad at keeping secrets from me). Slowly, I inched away, but Luca still noticed me. Perhaps it was the sudden movement of my head shooting back, or it was just stupid luck, but he noticed me and in several long steps he turned around my corner and stopped right in front of me. My back hit bookcase harshly and he glared at my face.
"Where is Elijah?"
I wondered for a moment if I should act stupid, but in the end, I decided against it and go with the truth. It seemed to have done me many favours thus far: "Erm, how should I know? I'm not Elijah's keeper."
"I know he spoke to you a few days ago."
"He did," I agreed slowly and Luca's dark eyes flitted over my face, searching for any insincere qualities. I tried to keep my face blank, lest chance he'd find something in the line of my mouth he would interpret as a lie. "He spoke to me because I was the one who set Katherine free."
His eyes widened slightly, but I was quite sure that was just an act for my benefit. I snorted softly; so by searching me for lies, he would lie himself. Interesting, but not all that surprising.
"You should probably ask the A-team." I finally settled on, the shelves digging almost painfully into my lower back. "You know, Elena, Bonnie and Stefan? If something happened to your Original Master, they would probably know."
It was probably not pleasant to sent him after my own sister, but with her obsessive vampire beaus she should be relatively fine. Luca was still suspicious, obviously, and took a step closer towards me. My fingertips clutched the shelf behind me and finally, his eyes flashing.
"You're lying!"
"What?" I gasped, "I'm not!"
His face twisted in rage and he raised his arm, obviously to throw a spell. And that spell hurt. I made some pathetic whining sound as pain pressed against my temples and surged behind my eyes.
My shoulders were wretched back and I could almost imagine joints and muscles tear. Panic steered at the pitch of my stomach and quickly, without thinking about the repercussions, I pitched my hand up. The pain stopped almost immediately and Luca folded in on himself, like a flower waning with the lack of sunlight. The bones of his arms snapped, forcing the limb into unnatural angles and he gave a short garbled scream, his face frozen in pain. He flopped backwards with a gasp, his head banging harshly against the leg of a table and—
He did not move again.
A large part of my body felt bruised and painful, as if someone had battered at it with a baseball bat but that nothing to do with the painful beating of my heart against my breast-bone. Blood was languidly spreading around Luca's head, first tracking down the cracks along the floorboards before sated and moving over the polished parts of wood as well. I took a took a huge, gasping breath, hoping, praying Luca was still breathing. That it was just a shallow head-wound (because everyone knew head wounds bled a lot).
Seconds after dropping to the floor next to him, my knees were stained, denim fabric saturated with blood. My hands were on Luca's shoulders: "Please don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" I chanted, almost like a prayer. The first stirrings of remorse, of losing control (again), almost distracted me fully, but I managed to shook it off and felt my breath escape me in a whoosh, when I felt his breath warm and damp rush past my palm when I held it above his slightly opened lips.
"Luca?" I tried. I was pretty sure I still broke both of his arms (judging from the odd angles they were in) but at least he was, Thank God, breathing. With less fineness than I would have liked I yanked my grey sweater over my head and pressed it tightly against his head. "Help? Someone, help me!"
"What happened?" Miss Fish asked and waved me away. I jerked up to my feet, shifting from foot to foot and watched almost emotionally-detached as she tugged her mobile phone free from her pants pocket. "What happened, Samantha?"
"I—" I started and then shook my head, tears clinging to my lashes and fracturing my vision. I could hardly tell her we had a witch fight and searched for an answer. "He fell— I don't know, he hit his head, I think."
Pressing her phone against her ear, skepticism written on her face, she said: "You Gilberts always stir trouble. Ah yes, I need an ambulance—"
The late afternoon sun streamed in through the high library windows by the time the ambulance members enter. Outside, students have assembled, trying to get a peek of what's going on, inching to see over each others shoulders, peering through the glass doors and I was standing in the tight embrace of the school councillor. I might have gotten myself in trouble on a regular basis; the occasional fight which ended in me whacking some poor idiot with my textbook, several paint-spray-on-the-toilet-wall accidents and even the whipped cream trap I'd built in Courtney's locker, I had never been in for hurting someone this serious. And serious it was, because the fear was real on their faces.
"Miss Gilbert—"
I was not even sure who was talking to me now, only that I felt extremely light-headed and then Alaraic Saltzman appeared to lead me away. The door swung open to the History classroom and he ushered me in one of the many vacated seats. His phone on his desk and rubbed his hand tightly together. I doubted he was well versed into dealing with hysteric teenage girls. As far as I was concerned men were often unsure how to deal with the hysterics of teenage girls, or from girls in general and I felt my lower-lip tremble as tears accumulated in my eyes and started to drip down my cheeks.
The blood leeched from his face and he yanked a handkerchief out of one of the shelves in his desk and offered it to her.
"There, there!" He muttered while we waited. Waited until Miss Fish returned and told Alaric to take me home. Because an adult, a representative, was supposed to be present during further questioning. And that would be Aunt Jenna—
Or Uncle John as it turned out. When Alaric pulled up in front of my house, Liz Forbes' police car was already standing in front of our house and my stomach dropped at the sight. We scrambled up the steps and up onto the porch before following the panicked voices to the kitchen.
John was seated at the kitchen table, looking as if he'd been there already for a good few minutes and Liz Forbes was settled opposite of him. Aunt Jenna was making coffee, spooning coffee beans into the coffee maker and Uncle John nodded his head to the chair beside him. I sat down without a word, conveying with one look only to tell him that what happened was not some silly school fight but actually something supernatural, even though I hadn't meant to hurt Luca Martin.
"Samantha," Liz greeted politely and I managed to level her with a mild glare (instead of the hostile one I thought she deserved).
"Sheriff," I returned stiffly. I might have done something wrong, I still hadn't gotten over the part where she'd locked me up at the Grill.
"The school sent me to follow up on the accident of Luca Martin—"
"That's new," I interrupted surprised. "Usually when I was involved you jumped to the conclusion it must and was my fault."
Liz cocked her head to the side and I inhaled deeply before finding enough sense of mind to school my features and look impassive. It was a look I had perfected over the years and not even my nerves, thundering through my bloodstream, could crack that mask. Liz gave me a smile that didn't match the tension in her stiff shoulders. "I've never been here for something quite like this, now am I?"
"No, I agreed."
"So," Liz started, "What happened?"
"He was looking for Elena." I answered, after all, it was not entirely untrue. "I'm not sure. One moment we were talking, the next he stumbled back and slipped. Hit his head on the table and cracked his head open. I tried to help him, but—"
"Yes," Liz agreed, "and then you called for help?"
"Yeah, I wasn't sure what else to do. I'm not a medical professional."
"She does know some of it," Uncle John explained. "My brother took her to the practice so now and then. Thought it was a good thing. To have some outer world experience."
"John, that's not important right now—"
"Of course, not." He agreed. "How is the boy?"
"He'll be fine." Liz admitted and my breath escaped me in a harsh gasp. Uncle John wrapped his arm around me, something he'd never done before, and pressed me against his chest. My fingers curl into his shirt, because what else was I supposed to do with my hands. "I think she's been through enough, Liz. My niece did not do or see anything odd, else she would have told you."
I hummed in agreement and listened to his heart, beating steadily. It's slightly easing, it reminded me of the time when I would curl up against either one of my parents. Liz was talking again, but not to me anymore and Aunt Jenna was mingling into the conversation. Aunt Jenna was ferocious and managed a side-side to her, but I didn't move away form my uncle.
"Liz,"
"Yes," Liz agreed to the unspoken question and I heard more than saw her get up to her feet. "I'll call you when there are any developments."
"Of course," Uncle John agreed and I turned my head against his shoulder.
"He was a witch." I muttered, loud enough for him make out, but not loud enough for Jenna or Liz to understand and pushed myself back up to my feet. John chucked me under the chin and I cocked my head to the side. He acted so odd around me now. "Erm, I— I'm going to freshen up a bit."
Both Uncle John and Aunt Jenna nodded at that and I quickly skirted out of the kitchen. I might have slammed the bathroom door loudly behind me but at least my hands did not shake when I managed to turn the water sink tap on. Clear, cold water streamed down my hands, making my skin chill and break out in gooseflesh. I scrubbed at my fingers until they were raw and when satisfied not even a speck of blood remained, I cupped my hands beneath the steady stream and scrub my face. Even damp my features had not changed in the reflection of the mirror.
I hadn't suddenly grown fangs, or acquired demon-like features. I was still me and not some monster who'd tried to murder a warlock only a few hours ago. I still had an oval face with a fine bone structure, a wealth of brown curly hair that had seen tamer days, and almond-shaped, chocolate brown eyes. Water clung in thick droplets to my thick dark lashes, making it seem as if I was crying. My breathing was still uneven and for a moment I could only stare before I bent down again and took a long steady drink.
The thought that Luca was not the only magical one in his family struck me like lightning and my fingers curled tightly around the edge of the sink. Hadn't Jeremy said Mr Martin could take someone's magic? I might not be superb at being a witch, but I got used to the raw prickling of power through my limbs. Inhaling deeply, I stumbled out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. My desk, that day covered in drawings and a grimoire, had never looked more inviting and I heaved myself heavily onto the chair, collected my drawings and settled them on the edge.
My fingers didn't tremble when I flipped through my Grimoire and I inhaled sharply when I found the spell I was looking for.
A spell that would protect me because quite frankly I expected him to come and get revenge on me and I had better things to do. With no grace at all, I yanked a candle wick out of my desk drawer and lighted it. With a needle I pricked through the fine skin of my index finger and pressed it in a circle around the candle. The blood shimmered dark in the amber light before starting to bubble. Muttering under my breath the little flame danced in synchrony with my breathing. Candle wax running down, dripping down on the desktop, mingling with the blood, before the flame spluttered. A protective layer of magic rolled through my blood, lingering on my skin.
It wasn't the most complicated spell I could use, but it worked well enough. Thumbing my fingers at the scar on my neck, I brushed my hair out of my face and pursed my lips: "Well, that should do it."
Changing into clothes that didn't look as if I'd played a guest role in the serie Dexter, I left my room. Twilight had fallen and the steps creaked beneath my feet. Picking through the jackets and coats on the coat rack, I found a leather jacket that could be mine as much as it could be Elena and was halfway across the hall, when Uncle John intercepted me.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Attack is the best defence?" I asked slowly and he frowned. "Don't worry. I cast a spell, I should be fine. I just think going to Mister Martin, before he comes for me, might be the wisest thing to do."
"It's not wise and you're not doing it." He returned and my eyebrows furrowed together in anger.
"What?"
"You're not doing it." He echoed, looking at me like he'd done before, about to lecture me and my eyebrows furrowed even further.
"You can't tell me what to do!" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. The leather creaked ominously and my fingers dug into my upper-arms.
He gave me a tired look, looking as if he was mulling over my huffy retort and pursed his lips: "I can. Do you know why? Because Luca Martin woke up just ten minutes ago and pretty much echoed your story of him falling. I'll admit it doesn't explain the two broken arms, but it does keep Liz away from you."
"Keep Liz— Who cares about Liz Forbes? What if Luca's dad comes here?" I snarled, waving my arms in elaborate circles around me.
"Then you're still protected. You cast a spell." He echoed back in a none-nonsense sort of tone before laying a hand on my shoulder and pushing me towards the living room. I inhaled sharply when my magic stirred in irritation. It was odd. Now I was aware of it and grown to use it more often, it was sometimes harder to control.
"Where's Elijah?"
"You met him."
"Yeah," I agreed and finally relaxed my tensed shoulders, reluctantly allowing my uncle to guide me onto the sofa. "I met him. He was different than I'd expected. So where is he? Because the Martins are looking for him."
"He presents no danger to any of us anymore."
I gave him an incredulous look before tucking a lock of damp hair behind my ear: "I'm pretty sure we're less safe with him gone than with him around."
His expression turned from solemn to irritatedly-surprised and he sighed: "What is it with you and your sister trusting all vampires?"
"It's not trusting all vampires, it's trusting the lesser of two evils." I retorted irritably and curled one leg up on the couch before resting my chin on top of my knee. "Elijah didn't even hurt me. He had every chance to do so, but he didn't lay a finger on me. I don't say we should trust him, but with Klaus coming? It seems stupid to push your luck the way you do."
"Don't worry," he smiled, "we find a way to protect you and Elena."
I wanted to ask why only me and Elena, since I was quite sure far more people were involved, but I didn't voice out my question. Uncle John sat in front of me, hands pressed between his knees, looking at me in a way that made my stomach feel heavy. I swallowed again, my throat sandpaper dry, and cocked my head to the side. "Is Luca really okay?"
"Yes, concussed, a broken wrist and a fractured elbow, but otherwise fine. He told the hospital crew he tripped." He answered.
"You said it yourself," I answered softly. "How else does he want to explain two broken arms, a concussion and no other evidence of violence?" I still couldn't shake the feeling that Luca's dad might come by to exact some kind of witchy vengeance, but at least I hadn't become guilty of manslaughter. That should account for something.
We sat in a heavy silence, the wind rustled the trees outside and I sat back in my seat.
I had almost lulled to sleep when suddenly John's phone stated chaff and he jerked up rather brokenly, answering it in the kitchen. I listened to his voice, while it became higher and higher and considered my chances. I could be out of the backdoor before he even knew I was gone and again I listened to John's agitated grumbling. He certainly wasn't happy with his caller and, soundlessly, I got to my feet as well and crossed the living room. My hand was above the backdoor handle when suddenly the front door clicked and unknown footsteps entered the house.
I held my breath, fingers tightly wrapped around the door-handle as the footsteps moved up the stairs. My eyes were narrowed; uncle John was still talking through the phone, unaware of the person sneaking up the stairs and I tiptoed back through the living room, taking care to dodge the creaking floorboard near the door, and peeked around the corner. A man, tall with short-cropped black hair was moving up the stairs and although I meant to hide behind the door again, he must have heard me because he turned so swiftly I wondered almost mechanically how it didn't give him vertigo.
"Ah, Samantha Gilbert." He said, and I recognised him to be Luca's dad. Taller than his son but with the same pair of brown eyes, just colder.
I stared at him for several seconds before, I shook my head. "—Nope," and quickly moved my face away. My feet slammed harshly against the floorboards but before I'd even made it halfway through the living room something yanked me back. I'd lunged towards backdoor, jumping over the coffee table, grappling for the door-handle, when magic tugged at my belly-button. I screeched, trying to belly-crawl away when I slammed down onto my stomach.
"You hurt my son," he told me conversationally and I dug my nails into the hard wood of the floorboards.
"Your son tried to hurt me!" I gasped back. "Besides, I didn't mean to! I just—"
"Lost control? Every form of magic has a price, girl." Mister Martin stated in the boring sort of tone I'd use when addressing the weather and he got me to my feet, right in front of him, with the flick of his wrist. If I hadn't been so frightened, I would probably have thought he was quite a bit proficient in telekinesis. But as it was, I was frightened and my head was starting to hurt, even though the barrier around my blood held. My face blanched, he was trying to knock me out, or at least I thought he was and I winched when the living room door was wrenched open and Uncle John stormed inside.
I hadn't even realised Mr. Martin must have closed the door behind him, but when he tried going after my would-be-murderer, he was thrown through the room. Slamming harshly into the wall, he crumbled to the floor like a puppet whose strings were cut. His broken body looked grotesque on the gleaming floor and I whined.
"Stop!" I hissed, trying to concentrate.
However, Mister Martin was far more proficient in doing magic than I was and I found myself thrown across the room as well, hitting the wall behind the couch. Pain bit into the back of my head, but it was not as bad as it could have been without the protection spell.
However, for a moment I was still stunned, slamming into the wood and I froze. Both me and Mister Martin froze. A car had pulled up in front of the Gilbert house and Mr. Martin twirled around, moving towards the stairs again. The front door opened only a moment later and people trudged inside. I heard Stefan's voice filter inside, and when Stefan was there, I was sure Elena was too.
I made a soft, pained sort of sound and within seconds the living room door creaked open (again) and Elena rushed inside. I blinked blearily, not sure how she suddenly was kneeling beside me, eyes flitting over my face and finger tracing my right cheekbone: "—Sam?"
I sat up, breathing in harshly, needing a moment to blink through the blur that was both protecting me as it was distracting me: "You can't be here."
"I can't?" She asked, smirking and I let her pull me upright, her hand hot against my wrist. She reached out to brush an errand strand of hair from my face and suddenly I understood: "Katherine!"
"Hello, Little girl!" She smirked and dragged me over to where Uncle John was regaining consciousness as well.
"Katherine?" Uncle John whispered hoarsely, the pale blue veins stood out against the alabaster skin of his throat.
"Hello John, good bye John," she greeted although her expression turned sore and she moved forward, fast. Her right hand fasting over his shoulder, obviously applying pressure and before I could utter a word, he dropped in a death faint. He was still breathing and I was quite sure she hadn't actually hurt him that bad. Fuck, I was pretty sure my evil, sociopathic, vampire ally had just done a Vulcan move and I was involuntarily impressed.
"I did not know you could do that."
"Is the warlock here?" She whispered and I pointed up to the ceiling.
"Good," she grinned, "Stefan! Something's wrong with my sister and John is out cold."
I could only dumbly follow Katherine, her left hand still wrapped around my wrist and blinked so profusely stupid up at Stefan's face, he sent an irritated glare to Katherine. "What happened, Elena?"
"I don't know." Katherine said, applying just the right amount of worry to her tone. "She must have fainted again. I need a moment, can you look after her? I need to freshen up a bit."
"What—" I whispered stupidly and she gave me a look. I had always been good at reading my sister. Reading Katherine was no different. I could read her like a book. Or at least I hoped I could, and dutifully, I pressed my hand to my head. "My head hurts. I think I need a glass of water."
Stefan nodded, his hand hovering above my shoulder as Katherine started to climb the stairs. I managed not to flinch when I finally allowed him to guide me to the kitchen. Bonnie was there too as was Caroline, both pale-faced, nurturing what looked like hot coffee.
"Samantha," Caroline greeted almost too-cheerful, "how have you been doing?"
It was difficult to play along when faced with Caroline, as she grinned prettily at me. Her worried expression almost completely stolen away, though she hadn't quite perfected her poker face yet. I could still make out the worry lines around her eyes as she squinted at me. It was going to be a long evening.
"I'm great."
A very long evening...
To be continued…
A/N: To Sam, thank you for your words of support.
Like always let me know what you'll think. I'd love to hear from you. I really hope to improve on my writing. Besides, advice and comments is a lovely way to get encouraged to write more.
See you upcoming Saturday.
