Sweetest Revenge

I want to clear things up by saying that I never wanted this life. Most times people think they become who they are because there's always a part of them—their darkest part, that made them that way.
I never had a dark spot in me. I was innocent, I was loved and I had a shining future ahead.
But then Fate must have PMS’d all over my life and, well, I was stuck in a world I didn’t belong in and thirsty for revenge. I watched everyone I love die—figuratively and literally. But I had made a few pacts over their memories. If you’ve ever lost anyone, you would understand the need for closure, revenge. I knew I couldn’t die without my vengeance, and those pacts had sealed my future, a future dedicated to my family.

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6. Chapter Six

 

Dinner was awkward. Rebekah was still chatting quietly to Micah while he drank his blood bag; Alex and Jared were in the games room, not worried about Klaus anymore. Stefan was staring at Micah talk like he was... strange, I guess. Klaus’s eyes darted around the table, impatiently and a little predatory or suspicious. I was eating way too much, on my second helping already. It was amazing—I had to count to five before taking another bite, or I’d be sick.

 

 Finally, Stefan spoke. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but... these boys are your brothers? The ones who were in the cages with us?”

 

Micah flinched sharply at the mention of the cages, although in the car he had been talking about them as if they were just another games room. Now he stared at Stefan like he was only just recognizing him.

 

 “You’re the man who got shot,” Micah said wondrously.

 

My brothers had also been shot, several times, but Micah must have forgotten. This is what being a vampire does to him; he’s diseased, doesn’t remember what he says or does until sharply reminded. Carlo explained it to me in the most sensible way; that his brain forced him to forget the horrible experiences.

 

Now Stefan stared at Micah like he was confused. There was an expression on his face I didn’t like. Like Micah was a tragedy or something. Maybe he wanted to set up a charity for the little vampire children, get them serious help.

I hate pity.

 

 “Yes, they are my brothers, and they are vampires, and they were caught in the cages with you.”

 

I stared at him hard, dropping my fork, waiting for him to go on about how wrong it is for children to be vampires, like I had any say in the matter. Most other vampires said that to me, every time.

 

 Somehow, everyone had become unpredictable to me, and he only stared at Micah before looking around at all of us.

 

 “Are you human?” He asked me.

 

 “Of course she is,” Klaus answered sharply. “What, you’re incapable of telling the difference now?”

 

 “She just... I mean, you kind of seem like...” He was at a loss for words. I stared hard into his eyes, waiting for him to go on, see how much he knows.

 

 “Isabella’s special.” Micah said now, narrowing his eyes at Stefan. “Is there something you want to say about her?”

He crossed his arms in front of his small chest and in that moment, he looked like the most adorable little brother I could ever have.

 

 And then his eyes filled with blood, and fangs cut into his lower lip.

 

I looked away sharply while Klaus asked one of the girls for a new bag of blood.

 

I listened to my brother rip into it as I resumed eating, keeping a straight face.

 “So, why are you here?” Stefan asked me, still watching me.

 

 “She’s—“

 

 “You’re not nearly as suspicious as Damon is naturally.” I interrupted Klaus, who was about to jump at making excuses for me. Stefan raised his brow at the reference to his brother. “But you’re still suspicious, even if you hide it behind your innocent questions. Is it a Salvatore thing?”

Slowly, a strange smile played over his lips and he stayed staring at me.

 

 “You might say that.”

 

 “How old were you when you turned, Stefan?” I asked him. He looked like a boy, but his baby face and muscled body went kind of well with each other. Like he knew he wanted to be peaceful, but could show his claws when he needed to. It was a shame those kind of people caused more problems in the world than good.

 

 “Seventeen. Aren’t you a question girl?”

 

 “You have a more youthful mind and yet you seem to be the one making the decisions involving your brother.” I recalled the moment at the funeral where Stefan seemed to be telling Damon off, like he was the father or something.

 

“I’m a hundred and sixty five. I would hardly call that youthful,” He was narrowing his eyes again, but interest sparked in them.

 

 “Vampires always preserve that piece of their mind when they turn,” I looked toward my brother. Micah would always have the mind of an eight year old. All his desires and goals went back to that, even if one day he’d become a voice of perfect reason. “It’s not just your life that becomes immortalized. It’s your mind too.”

 

I had figured most vampires would have realized that long ago by now, but he seemed surprised. I finished my plate in the space of silence and stood, facing Klaus.

 

 “I’ll see the Hunter now.”

 

Klaus set his glass down and walked out of the room. I waited for him to return, but faced Stefan and Rebekah.

 “I need to ask you both for a favour. I’d like the Hunter to be oblivious to my situation. I need to protect my brothers, and I can’t have him be suspicious—“

 

A loud yell interrupted me. I narrowed my eyes, looking in the direction of it.

 “What the hell are you—“The voice cut off abruptly, but I knew who it was.

 

 “I’ll keep it to myself.” Rebekah promised me, looking at Micah. Stefan only nodded.

 

**

The Hunter was more built than I initially thought. He looked like something out of a movie, something about demons and angels. The tattoo didn’t look like a divine purpose; it looked like a curse.

 

 Jeremy Gilbert, Klaus explained, was something of an anomaly in Mystic Falls. He could contact the dead, had a ring that brought him back to life, and apparently, he could also see the Hunter’s tattoos. I couldn’t help but view all those ‘anomalies’ as things that could help him be a Hunter. Although he wouldn’t become a Hunter, because his sister was Elena Gilbert, also a vampire now and she was dating Stefan Salvatore and had her sights on Damon simultaneously.

 

What a town they lived in. Really, you’d call the whole town an anomaly, not just the one human boy caught in the middle of it.

 

“Last time I saw you, you were beating up Klaus.” Jeremy said to me as I eyed the Hunter. His chin was against his chest, eyes closed, a bruise forming on the side of his head. “Now you’re helping him?”

 

 “Look, Jeremy,” I turned to face him. He had a young face, a young innocence, young stance—everything about him was young, but for his eyes. He had seen too much death. But we all had. We were all too young to deal with this shit. “I don’t appreciate people wanting to know why I work the way I do. I keep everything in perspective. I work for myself. If you have any questions that involve you, go ahead and ask. Everything else about me is personal.”

 

 That was a lie. Not everything... but a human in a vampire’s world had no secrets. If I told something to Jeremy and he was confused, he’d ask his sister, who would ask Stefan, in turn asking Damon...

 

Jeremy was silent while I studied the Hunter. His name was Connor, but I saw him as ‘the Hunter’ because he would only see me as ‘The Vampire’s sister.’ That’s the way my world worked. I gave no courtesies.

 

 “How about this; why don’t you want Connor to know you can see his tattoo?” I looked at him over my shoulder. He shrugged. “It does have something to do with me, I can see the tattoo.”

 

 “What are your observations?” I ignored his question and stayed staring at the tattoo. There was something... strange about it, something that seemed to cut off abruptly.

 

Jeremy was beside me and handing me a drawing in answer. I took it from him, nodding my thanks, and realized the tattoo he had drawn looked more like a... vine. It was darker on paper. Seeing it on paper made me realize how it wrapped around his whole arm. Some symbols were harder to see and make sense of.

 

My annoying, loud ringtone resonated through the room, and the first thing I noticed was the Hunter’s shiver. My hand flew to my pocket and I answered it in the next second, pausing, staring at the Hunter, making sure he wouldn’t wake.

He didn’t, but from the amount of noise blaring from my phone, he would soon. I turned the volume down before bringing it to my ear.

 

 “Hell—“

 “—brothers are gone.”

“What?” My stomach dropped out from under me.

 “I’m at your apartment, and there’s no one home. Is there a reason your brothers are gone?”

 

I sighed in relief, even though I knew Carlo would just get more pissed off when he realized where I was.

 “They’re with me.” There was a long pause.

 “And where are you, Isabella?”

 “I’m at Klaus’s,”

 “Is there a reason you’re at the home of the man who turned your brothers into vampires?”

 “Yes...” I answered cautiously. “I’ll talk to you when I get home.” I waited for him to explode in outrage or something, but instead, he was quiet for almost half a minute.

 “Very well, Isabella. Just remember who you’re dealing with.” He hung up, leaving me wondering whether he was talking about himself or Klaus.

 

I sensed Klaus a moment before he walked in the room. Jeremy had the book in his hand again, and he was sitting on the armchair. Klaus shot me an almost annoyed look before looking over Jeremy’s shoulder.

 

 “Nice lines.” I also felt the honesty as part of that statement, and belatedly remembered Klaus’s ‘hobby’ of art, how at times he would be obsessed with it. “Now if you could just hurry it up a little bit,”

 Jeremy stood in annoyance.

 

 “I’m done,” He handed the book to Klaus, who snatched it from him.

 “What is this?” He stood in front of the Hunter, eyes scanning the drawing, then the man.

 “It’s the tattoo,” Jeremy practically rolled his eyes.

 

In the next second, Klaus’s hand was around Jeremy’s throat. I felt the violence too late, the annoyance, and the anger.

 “I’ve seen the tattoo, you impertinent punk. There’s more to it.”

 

 “Klaus.” I growled, reaching over and tugging on the neck of his shirt. “Get off him.”

 “That’s all of it,” Jeremy insisted, voice choked. Klaus didn’t look back at me, but shoved him in the chair when I pulled at his shirt again. Jeremy breathed deep before going on, “He said every time he kills a vampire it spreads.”

 

 “You could have asked me if that was all of it,” I snapped at Klaus’s back. He wasn’t feeling any kind of guilt.

I know how twisted it is to expect a vampire to feel guilt.

There was a big difference between Klaus and Carlo. Klaus was still human—in his emotions. He felt sadness, love for his family, wanted what was best for them—even if he couldn’t give them that. I’d seen him... cry. Crying was one thing I refused to ever let myself do. With me, I associated tears with uselessness, helplessness, something weak. But when Klaus cried, it seemed to be something... like a way of letting out his inner emotions without worrying about consequences.

He looked at art that way too. He said to me once; no one knows what you mean by it anyway. You can say what you want and no one knows.

 

Carlo... I don’t think Carlo is even capable of tears. The man reminds me of an animal; lawless. Driven by instinct, determined to reach his goals. Everything to him was either a benefit or a waste of time. Sometimes I admired him, and other times I wondered how he became this person, what kind of horrible things happened to make him end up that way. He didn’t even seem to be human. Nothing was confusing with him. He was basic, understood what he wanted, knew what I wanted, and helped me because I agreed to help him.

How I could help him was still a bit of a mystery, but he was adamantly certain I could.

 

I realized the clear difference between them both in that moment. From Carlo I expected nothing—only my safety. And from Klaus, what I was expecting of him was something I couldn’t expect from my brothers, either.

 With a pure look of hatred directed at Klaus, I used his speed as I ran out, toward my brothers. How could I look at a wolf vampire who choked a teenager only few years older than my brother? How could he feel fondness toward my brother and be ready to kill Jeremy?

 

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