Chapter One - Impulsive or Stupid?
"Okay, watch closely," she said before aiming at the
street with the balloon filled with water. The teenaged girl dressed
in ripped skinny jeans, tank top and a grey hoodie smiled as she
dropped the balloon from the top of the building. At the bottom,
where loads of people were walking on their way to their jobs, the
balloon managed to hit a man wearing a suit that looked brand new.
The two sixteen year old kids crouched as the man confusingly looked up and stayed silent for a couple of seconds before they burst out in laughter.
"I don't get how you do it," the blonde guy said as he stood up again to make sure that the coast was clear. "No matter if there is one person on the street or one hundred you always succeed to get a perfect hit."
"So? Call me a natural talent, now come on Sam, we're going to be late for school."
"Another thing I don't get about you, Hope," Sam said and picked up his bag from the floor. "You can do whatever else but not skip school."
Hope shrugged her shoulders. "So?"
Sam sighed at his brunette friend. A lot of people wasn't able to see the beauty of her, with her intense gaze of light blue eyes, light olive skin and long brown hair that fell loose over her shoulders and the dark eyebrows of hers. Hope wasn't one who walked around showing people what she looked like with pride, although she was aware of the attention she could get if she wanted to.
"It's just weird," Sam continued as they climbed down the ladder and reached the ground. "I don't get it."
"I've told you before, if I don't get an education then I wont get a proper job and a better place to stay than the apartment that me and my mom lives in. It's pretty simple if you think about it."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Come on then and stop complaining." Hope smiled at her best friend before putting on her leather jacket that she pulled out from her worn out backpack.
The community school Hope attended in Brooklyn wasn't much to brag about, half of the teachers were more lazy than the students and their teaching capability sucked. But Hope still tried her best in school, even though she didn't have to put too much effort into it.
As usual Hope and Sam were the last ones to walk into the classroom. They walked past the rest of the students and sat down at their places in the back of the room.
"So mr Grey and miss Jones decided to show up today after all," their math teacher mr Cole announced as he slammed the door shut. At once everyone got quiet and turned their attention toward him.
Mr Cole was one of the few teachers who actually took his job seriously, maybe because he was so young and still wasn't tired of it.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Hope commented before dropping her backpack on the floor next to her desk. She leaned back in her seat and pulled the hood over her head.
"Sorry to disappoint you, mr Cole," he said. "A bit of politeness wouldn't harm you, miss Jones. And put the hood down."
Hope let out a sigh, her brain told her to do as mr Cole said, but her pride said otherwise.
"Whatever," she mumbled already knowing what kind of consequences she would get herself in after this lesson.
"Did you say something, miss Jones?" mr Cole asked.
Rest of the class were curiously following their conversation and Sam gave Hope warning looks over his shoulder, which she decided to ignore.
"Maybe you should take care of your own business instead of mine," she said leaning forward on her elbows.
"Oh really? Maybe you should think about your business in detention this afternoon." Mr Cole turned toward the black board without another look at her. Hope shook her head and leaned back again closing her eyes, why did she always had to prove herself?
Sam gave her a I-told-you-so look over his shoulder before giving her a wide smile.
"Shut up," she muttered.
Hope drummed the pen against her desk while watching the clock on the wall. It felt like the seconds ticked slower and slower every minute that passed. A one hour detention hadn't been on her mind earlier this morning, but Hope didn't regret her lack of manners.
"Would you mind quitting that?" mr Cole asked. He looked up from his pile of math test they had taken a couple of days ago.
"Yes," she answered continuing drumming.
"Look, if there is something going on with you I'm all ears, okay? You're a bright girl, you have straight A's and your attendance in school is almost perfect. Why make it more complicated?"
Hope sighed and put the pen down on her desk. She didn't want to talk about personal stuff with anyone, not even Sam who was her best friend.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Seriously."
Mr Cole gazed at her intently, she knew he was trying to find something that would tell him that she was lying. But she kept her face calm, without moving any muscle to reveal herself.
If people knew the truth about her they would shut her out. Judge her and probably even laugh at her. She couldn't stand that, she enjoyed being the person they all looked up to and respected. No one had the guts to stand up against her and that's the way she liked it.
But the truth why she tried so hard to succeed in school was because she wanted to get out of New York. She hated it there, her dad had left her when she was seven years old with another woman. Now he lived in Kansas with his new wife and kids. Hope's mom was both a drug addict and an alcoholic. Every time Hope got home to their small apartment she found her laying on the sofa with a bottle of scotch next to her.
On top of it all she knew she was adopted, on one of her mom's dark days she had told Hope that she wasn't her real mother and given her a letter from her real mom. Hope had been eight years old, and that day she had decided never to trust anyone.
She didn't need a family and they clearly didn't need her either. Hope could handle herself, she didn't need anyone bossing her around telling her what to do.
"One hour has passed," she said pointing toward the clock on the wall. Mr Cole nodded with a sigh.
"See you tomorrow, miss Jones," he said and waved his hand.
Hope didn't bother to answer, instead she picked up her backpack from the floor and tossed it over her shoulder before stepping out of the classroom.
Sam was probably at home already, he, unlike her, actually had parents and someone that greeted him when he got home. She knew his parents didn't like her, they thought she had bad influence on him.
Of course she didn't care about their opinion in the matter.
She walked toward the subway station as she always did after school. She knew her mother would be awake by now and she wasn't in the mood of another fight with her. The least she could do right now was to pick some rich person's wallet and spend the money on food. It was kind of her way to relax her nerves after she had been angry or irritated.
She took the subway to the Central Park, most of the easiest victims had been rid of their money there because of her.
She walked through the literary walk while trying to find someone who had more money than what he or she needed. Most of the people walking there were parents with their children. Then she saw him – a handsome man with muscular but thin body wearing a nice suit - walking only a couple of steps in front of her. He walked in a weird kind of old-school walk and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
Hope didn't waste any time, the next second she had run past him and shoved him as she did. Quicker than her eye could see, she had managed to steal the watch around his wrist.
She kept on running as fast as her feet could bear her when she heard the man calling after her.
She was just about to smile for her victory when she had to stop immediately and nearly fall down on the ground because of the sudden stop. The man she had taken the watch from stood in front of her, without even breathing heavy. How could he have run that fast without getting tired?
It was like he had been at two places at the same time, one second he had been several steps behind her – and the next right in front of her.
"Wow, how did you-"
"My watch, please," he cut her off with one hand outstretched and the other one in the pocket of his pants.
She looked up at his face, he was much taller than she was and had a majestic, proud look on his face. He had an angular face – high cheekbones, strong jaw line and straight nose. With hazel brown eyes and short brown hair. Hope guessed he was in his late twenties.
He didn't look at her, his gaze went back and forth on the people behind her. Was he afraid that someone would see them?
"How did you do that?" she asked completely ignoring the irritation in his voice. "Are you on drugs or something?"
He turned his eyes to meet hers for the first time and for a moment his forehead went into deep wrinkles. He blinked a couple of times before he got back to the present.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Don't play games with me, girl," he warned with his eyes darkened.
"Fine, it's Fiona," she lied tugging her sleeve with her free hand. The other one held a tight grip around the man's watch.
"You're lying." It wasn't a question, more like a angry statement. He took a step closer toward her and even though she wanted to run away she couldn't. She stood like frozen, her legs wouldn't move and her heart pounded like a hummingbird's inside her chest.
"Hope," she whispered. "My name is Hope."
She was angry with herself, she never got scared. Not of anything, last time she had been scared was when her parents had fought and that had been ages ago.
The man's eyes widened and he took a step backwards again, he looked like he had seen a ghost. Hope had never in her almost seventeen year old life been unsure about anything, but there was something different about this man and she could feel it.
"What is the name of your mother?" he continued asking as he got his stiff appearance back.
"Why don't you tell me your name first and then I might tell you what you want to know?" she shoot back with the little bravery she got left.
"I'm not here to play twenty questions," he said amused.
She raised her eyebrows, no way she would give this one up without some sort of agreement. Frightening or not, she was not weak. To make herself more clear, she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Elijah," he said. "Elijah Mikaelson. Now, please tell me the name of your mother."
The people who walked past them didn't seem to notice them at all, they just kept on walking and talking about whatever they found interesting. Hope almost wished that someone would stop and ask if everything was okay, so she would get a chance to run off.
"I don't know," she breathed. "I was adopted."
Elijah shook his head while whispering: "It can't be."
Hope's heart rate once again started to beat faster, did this man know something about her?
"Show me your right wrist," he commanded without taking his eyes off hers.
Hope felt compelled to do as he said and so she did. She exposed her right lower arm where she had five freedom birds tattooed on the side to cover up a scar she had had her entire life.
Before Hope had any chance to react, Elijah had come forward and taking her arm in his hands. She tried to struggle against his grip but it was no use. He was both older and stronger than her.
Elijah eyed her tattoos and let one finger touch the exact spot where the remaining of her scar still was. Hope flinched and finally got out of his grip.
"I can't believe it," he said looking into her eyes again. "We have been looking for you for five years."
"Look, if you're some kind of phsycopath or something just take whatever you want. I've got nothing to lose," she said with a hurry and held out the watch to him. "Here, take it, I don't want it."
Elijah took the watch and put it back around his wrist.
"You're coming with me," he stated.
"Wow, hold on a sec. I'm impulsive, not stupid. I won't go anywhere with you!"
She took a step backwards. She felt stuck, she knew he was both faster and stronger than her – probably even smarter so her option of running wasn't going to work. Although she had to admit that she was a bit curious about him, why he had reacted the way he did when she had told him her name? Like she was some sort of thing that had been lost in a long time but now was found.
"I haven't got time for your games, Hope," he said.
"Give me one good reason to go with you," she slowly said.
Elijah gave her a weak smile. "You said it yourself, you've got nothing to lose."
She already knew she would go with him, for some strange reason she found herself kind of trusting him. He looked familiar, almost like she had heard his voice before. It made her feel calm, like she finally could breathe without thinking it might be her last time of doing it.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she took a couple of slow steps toward him.
The picture of a torn down apartment that appeared in her mind made her grimace, hopefully that wasn't the place that he meant.
"And where is that?"
Hope kept on walking beside him although she felt her heart sink inside her chest. New Orleans? That meant that she wouldn't go to school and Sam would be alone. Not that she actually did care for either of them, sure Sam was a good friend and school was ... well it was school.
"How do I know you're not lying to me?" she asked gazing at him with a look she hoped seemed somewhat terrifying. "That you won't just kill me?"
"Are you afraid of dying?" he asked calmly.
"No." That wasn't a lie. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Well then," Elijah smiled. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see. If you aren't afraid of anything, as you claim."
Hope stared at him, he was challenging her. She loved a challenge, no matter the subject – she would never back down.
"Fine,"she snorted. "But can we make one quick stop before we go to New Orleans?"
"Of course, Hope."
He couldn't believe it, there she was. Fully alive without any bigger scratches on her, except for the old, torn clothes she was wearing. It made her look tough, though. Which gave him the feeling that she definitely was her mother's daughter.
Hayley had never given up the search of her daughter, even though they had been searching for Hope for over five years. Rebekah had tried her best to hide her, but everything had happened so quickly. One minute they had been safe – the next everything had fallen apart.
None of the members of the Mikaelson family had been able to stop the witches from seeking Hope, at least not at that point. Rebekah had had no other choice than give her up for adoption. Klaus had been furious and killed off every single witch he could find.
The most surprising thing about this whole story was that the witches had figured out that Hope hadn't died. They had covered up every single track of her existence back in New Orleans, but they still somehow managed to find out about her.
It had taken them a decade to clean up the mess they had made in New Orleans and when they finally could get settled, then it was too late for them to find Hope. None of the adoption agencies had been able to help them, Hope had gone missing.
Klaus on the other hand hadn't showed any of his emotions, of course, but Elijah had been able to see the worry in his eyes.
He couldn't prevent himself from chuckling when he looked into Hope's eyes. Klaus had mentioned that she had a hint of the devil in her eyes, and as usual with all his assumptions, he was right.
"What?" she asked obviously not keen on his sudden impulse of laughing.
"You have your father's eyes," he explained. "My brother's eyes."
Hope swallowed, this must be hard for her. Hearing about a family far away from her that only waited for her to appear some day. Elijah couldn't even imagine how overwhelmed she was.
"So, you're my uncle."
"Cool," she said shrugging without letting herself show any emotions – once again just as her father.
They got to his car, a huge black Range Rover parked on the street beside a chinese restaurant.
"Is this your car?" she asked, trying not to sound too impressed.
"Yes," he answered. Hope walked toward the car and stopped to look at her own reflection in the window.
"You may have your father's eyes," Elijah said hesitantly. "But you've got your mother's looks."
Hope stood still for a moment, still watching herself in the window before she suddenly took a hard grip around the handle on the door and pulled it open.
"I don't have a mother."