The Art Of Hiding Your Death

Chapter Seventeen: Crime And Cupcakes

 Disclaimer: This is an Originals fan fiction and I do not own any the Originals/ TVD. This story though, and specific characters are my own. Any characters that are my own shall be specified, otherwise, I do not own them. 

6:12 AM

Mikaelson Mansion

I wander into the kitchen sleepily and open the refrigerator only to have it snapped shut in my face by a very familiar hand. I look up and see that Mikael is standing there looking very ticked-off. Now I am wide awake, all drowsiness wiped from my face. He points to the island bar in the middle of the kitchen where there are stools to sit.

"Sit." He orders, and I comply immediately, not wanting to make him even more mad at me for whatever I did. He sits on the other side, and a newspaper is slapped down in front of me. My heart sinks.

It is the New Orleans Gazette from two months ago and is opened to the second page, an article that broke me even further when I saw it. What is worse, is that I couldn't figure out why it was in the paper instead of in the obituaries. I skim over the article once more, shoving my growing hysteria back down.

LOCAL TEENS MISSING

Kamal Vyapari, 17, and Hope Mikaelson, 17, are now officially being classified as missing by New Orleans police. They attended New Orleans High School and were involved deeply in the community. While Ms. Mikaelson's family was unavailable to comment, Ms. Vyapari mother offered a few words.

"Kamal and Hope, they were amazing, and inseparable. They did so much for the world, and were amazing and valued youth in the community. They cared deeply about each other, and always strived to be better. I can only hope that they are returned to us safely." -Tyra Vyapari

The two were last seen outside their school and pictures of the two are shown below. We urge anyone with anything that might help us solve this case and find the two youths to come forward to the police.

I swallow hard and look up at Mikael.

"I found that in your room, along with several other newspapers. What do have to say for yourself?"

"You were in my room?" I ask shakily. He nods, and I am not surprised that he would do that, invade the one place that I can call mine here.

"Why are you buying newspaper's about your disappearance, Hope?" He asks, and I swallow hard again at my name.

"I wanted closure. I got it. Now leave me alone." I say, and start to leave, but he grabs a butter knife and stabs me through the hand, pinning my hand down. I hiss, and turn around, plopping back on my stool and yanking the knife out. "What?" I growl.

"You had better not do anything like that, ever again." He says in a low voice, and my fangs come out in anger. He stands up and grabs the newspaper, throwing it in the sink and then tossing a lit match on it. I watch it go up in flames through my hybrid eyes as he leaves the room, calling after him as he leaves, "Your plane will be here in an hour!"

I hiss at him and grab an apple, getting up and stalking out of the room, leaving blood trails along the carpet from the wound in my hand as I walk up to my room, devouring my apple savagely all the way.

2:30 PM

England

"ALright, everyone got the plan down?" I say to the people in the cargo truck. The team in black combat clothing nods.

"Okay, masks on, phase one begins in t-minus 120 seconds." I order, and the surrounding men pull their black ski masks on. We are in a dim cargo truck that was transported a few days ago and will carry the money to the plane. Mikael gave me a team of ten men to haul the money out and assist me. I just finished giving out the orders and while they check their weapons one more time, I turn around and tighten the heavily gelled, immaculately curled high ponytail that leaves curls running down my back.