The Howling ▹ Klaus Mikaelson

13.

THE HOWLING.

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN : you forgot about the shadows that'd follow

"What time did you get home last night?" asked Carol upon seeing Rowan propped up at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in front of her slowly cooling. Rowan didn't answer. "Okay, let me rephrase that. Why did you get home nearly an hour past curfew?"

"Are you going to keep using your 'mom voice' if I keep ignoring you?" Rowan asked flatly. She finally looked up at her mother's arched eyebrow and hand on her hip. She sighed. "My walk home took a little longer than expected."

"I've seen you leave a room, literally in the blink of an eye," Carol retorted. "What happened?"

Rowan looked down at the table. Her walk with Klaus was surprisingly pleasant. They didn't speak much, just walked, stepping in sync. And when he led her to her front door, where Rowan had a thought cross her mind about him kissing her, all he did was smile, bid her well, and leave.

"There's a murderer out there, mostly targeting the council, so when I set a curfew I expect you to be here on time!" Carol continued ranting.

Rowan suppressed an eye roll. "I can protect myself. And, besides, everyone who's been killed, they've all been human, therefore, it's most likely a human doing the killing. The guy, or girl, if they come at me, it'll be easy to put them down."

"I'd rather not have my daughter talk about murdering people at the kitchen counter."

"Is it really considered murder if they person you kill is a murderer?"

Carol didn't even try to suppress her own eye roll. "I believe so." She gathered her bag and keys. "Don't forget about the event today at the bridge. I need you to be there since your brother isn't here."

"Ah, yes. Keeping up the family front even though half of us are either gone or dead," Rowan drawled out. Her head slumped, and her chin nearly touched her chest. Carol stared at her daughter for a second, about to respond, but a car horn sounded from outside. "I do believe that's your ride," the young werewolf mused, placing her mug in the sink and walking out of the kitchen.

Behind her, Carol gathered the rest of her things, calling out a, "Don't be late," before walking out of the door.

Rowan's sock clad feet patted up the steps as she strolled toward her room. She stared at her wardrobe blankly before finally opening it up, and getting ready for the day. As she walked to and from her bathroom and wardrobe, her eyes slipped over the mirror. Tyler used to tease her of being conceded because every time she would pass by her reflection, she would look into it. But it wasn't because she was conceded, it was because, day and day, she would feel different. Like an unexplainable weirdness, and she needed some sort of proof that she was actually standing on her feet. That weirdness was creeping back slowly.

Sighing, she took one last glance in the glass and made her way out of the house and to the Wickery Creek Bridge.

Once Rowan stepped out of her car, reporters were already beginning to take flashing photos as her mom walked toward her. Forcing a smile on her face, Rowan stood next to the mayor and posed in the fashion of a good daughter.

A few hours passed with more interviews with reporters from the newspaper, and Rowan had gotten texts from everyone on their plans. She shook her head at Damon's. Basically an excuse for him to get laid. The sun had went down before her phone dinged with a message from Elena asking if she could help Meredith watch over the accidental psycho murderer Alaric. Now, having an excuse, Rowan couldn't have left any faster.