NEW YORK
One year ago…
His head hurt like a son of a bitch and felt as heavy as an anvil.
Paranormal fire burned in the darkness. Auroras of psi splashed across the ether. The night sky above New York was ablaze with light from across the spectrum. Damon Salvatore gripped the condo balcony railing with both hands, fighting to anchor himself to reality. There were spectacular patterns wherever he looked: wondrous, astonishingly intricate webs of connections and links that illuminated the path back to the heart of the universe.
The dazzling radiance of the midnight world was compelling beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was certain that if he only looked closely enough, he would be able to distinguish the light from the dawn of creation, perhaps even grasp a fistful of the raw power of chaos that fuelled the forces of life and death.
Then he saw a woman lying not far away from him.
He gave a cry of shock when he saw the face.
It was Rose.
Rose was dead.
He stood transfixed, but his brain was scrambling, seeking an explanation for the inexplicable.
The tanned skin had taken on the ashen hue of death. Her lips were the colour of putty. Her eyes, partially open, were beginning to film.
His stupefaction lasted for maybe ten seconds. Perhaps even less. Then he was beside her in a nanosecond, feeling for a pulse. He felt none. Her skin was as cool as marble. Nevertheless, he began giving her CPR.
"Don't waste your time. She is dead." Klaus Mikaelson said.
Damon turned to look at the figure silhouetted in the opening of the sliding-glass doorway. There was something wrong. Klaus looked as if he stood on the other side of a waterfall. It was impossible to focus on him. He held something in his hand but Damon could not make it out.
"What are you doing here?" Damon asked. He was vaguely aware that he sounded drunk. But he was almost positive that he had had only one glass of wine with dinner.
"We both know why I'm here." Klaus moved out of the doorway and went to stand at the railing a short distance away. He kept the object in his hand out of sight against his left leg. "The drug really slammed your senses, didn't it? That's one of the interesting side effects of the drug. The higher the level of talent, the greater the impact. You are literally off the charts on the Salvatore Scale. That makes this new drug the ideal weapon to destroy you without arousing any suspicions. By now you are lost out there on the paranormal plane. There's no coming back from this trip."
"Why did you kill Rose?"
"Nobody could stop me this time."
"She loved you," Damon hissed.
"She loved you too." Klaus' eyes were cold and distant. "She didn't want to see you get hurt. How sweet was that," he said sarcastically.
"You came here to kill me," Damon said. A simple statement of fact, nothing more or less. It was good to know he was still able to think logically.
"I did warn you that one day your talent would be the death of you." Klaus sounded amused. "I'm not alone in that opinion, as I'm sure you're aware. Fortunately, a lot of people are convinced that a chaos theory-talent as powerful as you is doomed. And there have always been those rumours about the men in your family who inherit that aspect of the founder's talent. Everyone knows that Joseph Salvatore was a paranoid whack-job at the end."
"Joseph died more than four hundred years ago," Damon said. "No one knows what really happened to him at the end. And rumours are, by definition, not facts."
"But as you have often pointed out, an interesting rumour always has more influence than a boring fact."
Damon shook his head once and blinked a couple of times, trying to bring Klaus into focus. The small motion caused the universe to shift around him. The disorientation was so fierce now that he had to clench his hand around the balcony railing to stay on his feet.
"Why?" he asked. It was a foolish question. He knew the answer. But for some reason he wanted to hear Klaus put it into words. Then again, that had been the problem all along. He had wanted to believe Klaus Mikaelson.
"I'm afraid there's no other way out." Klaus rested both elbows on the railing and contemplated the night. "You know the gemstone is worth a fortune to certain people. Hell, it's priceless. The new drug has certain hypnotic effects. In addition to creating those fascinating hallucinations you are currently viewing, it makes you vulnerable to suggestion. For example, you feel like taking a walk off this balcony, don't you?"
"No," Damon said again. He tried to move, but when he took a step he stumbled and went down to his knees.
Klaus gestured toward the building across the street. "You know what you should do, Damon? You should cross that crystal bridge. Halfway over, you'll have a terrific view of the heart of the universe. How can you resist?"
Damon tightened his grip on the railing and hauled himself upright. He tried to focus, but the crashing waves of the auroras that lit up the night were too distracting.
"What bridge?" he asked.
"Right there." Klaus pointed. "It leads from this balcony to the roof of the building across the street. Just step over the railing and you will be on your way."
Damon looked down. Strange machines moved on the street below. Lights glowed and flashed. Cars, some part of his brain whispered. Get a grip. You are fourteen floors above the street.
"Don't you see the bridge?" Klaus asked. "It leads to all the answers, Damon. You just follow the crystal brick road to find the wizard."
Damon concentrated. A crystal bridge materialized in the night. The transparent steps were infused with an internal light. He pulled harder on his talent. A fresh tide of energy came from the gemstone in his ring. The bridge brightened and beckoned. But a tiny sliver of awareness sliced through the wonder of the scene.
"Think I have seen that bridge before," he said.
"Yeah?" For the first time Klaus sounded slightly disconcerted. "Where?"
"In the movies. Damn silly plot but the special effects were mildly entertaining."
Klaus chuckled. "Leave it to Damon Salvatore to come up with a logical explanation for a perfectly good hallucination. Well, it was worth a shot. But if you won't do this the easy way, I guess we will have to go with Plan B."
He moved suddenly, bringing up the object in his hand. Damon tried to raise one arm to block the blow, but his muscles would not obey. Instinctively he twisted aside, instead. He lost his balance and went down hard on the tiled floor.
The object Klaus wielded was a hammer. It struck inches away from Damon's head. He heard the crack of the tiles. The entire balcony shuddered with the force of the blow.
"You crazy son of a bitch," Klaus said. He raised the hammer for another blow. "You are supposed to be out of your head by now."
Damon rolled away and reached for more talent. The hammer struck the floor of the balcony again.
He managed to scramble to his feet. The sparkling, iridescent night spun wildly around him.
Klaus charged him in a violent rush. The promise of imminent death sent another rush of adrenaline through Damon, producing a few seconds of brilliant clarity.
He finally succeeded in getting a focus. For an instant the familiar features of the man he had considered a trusted friend were clearly visible in the light from the living room. Klaus' face was twisted with a maddened rage. Damon realized that he had never known the real Klaus until tonight.
The shock of being so terribly, horribly wrong brought another dose of clarity. Damon knew he couldn't let Klaus get the gemstone. People would die if certain people get hold of the gemstone. Innocent people would die. He summoned up the full, raging force of his talent, by sending energy into his ring and got the response he was looking for. The azure gemstone burned with a searing radiance. He hurled the currents of paranormal radiation into Klaus's aura. Not exactly Zeus with the lightning bolts but good enough to get the job done.
Klaus grunted once, clutched at his heart and instinctively reeled backward to escape the onslaught of energy. He fetched up hard against the balcony railing. He was a tall man. The barrier caught him at mid-thigh. The force of his momentum sent him over the edge.
He did not scream, because he was already dead.