Elijah Mikaelson stops in Atlanta on his way to New Orleans to look for his brother Klaus. While there, he meets a young witch, whom he teaches the importance of family.
Rainy Night in Georgia
Elijah knew something was amiss the moment he stepped into the Sidebar on Poplar Street. Sure, there was a trio of vampires sitting in the corner of the room casting odd glances in his direction. There were several werewolves seated at the bar, drinking what appeared to be straight up whiskey, and two silicone-faced witches chatting up a storm near the door. Usually most supernatural beings would avoid mortal watering holes (with the exception of some very brash vampires), but it appeared that the mortals were at ease with their surroundings. Either most of them knew what exactly they were dealing with or completely oblivious to the fact that they could very likely end up dinner.
The Original took a seat next to a rather stoned older gentleman (a mortal by the looks of it) who was playing with a small candle on the counter and waved over the bartender. As she cast him a wayward glance and told him she'd be there in a moment he couldn't help but notice just how young she was. With her short-cropped light brown hair and marble blue eyes the girl no doubtedly passed off as older, but Elijah dubbed her at least age 15. Whatever she was doing here, the Sidebar was certainly no place for a child like this.
The barkeep plucked a pencil and piece of paper from her pocket and made her way over to where the Original sat. Smiling politely, she handed him a small glass and a napkin before glancing over at the clock. It was almost eleven pm. She sighed. "Only one more hour to go," she muttered, almost to herself. "Man, tonight's slow. What'll you have?"
Elijah chuckled. "Do you have Nikolai?"
The girl nodded. "Yes sir, coming right up." She took back the glass and turned towards the rack of bottles behind her, reaching towards the top shelf. "Excellent choice. Not many guys come in here looking for stuff like this. Last guy that tried it came in about three weeks ago. Arrogant son of a gun, but a good tipper. The vodka's very reasonably priced, very expensive tasting vodka. You've got class, my friend." She slid Elijah's glass back towards him, waved goodbye to the two witches leaving and sat down on the barstool behind the counter, glancing back at the clock before looking back at the vampire sitting across from her. "You haven't been in here before. You don't sound like you're from around these parts."
Elijah shrugged, before he sipped. "I'm passing through town, thought I'd stop by and see what the Empire State of the South had to offer. I'm very pleased with the standards…" he motioned towards her "but not so much with the Bar Association. I'm surprised the owner lets you keep, seeing as you're as young as you are."
The bartender laughed it off, but the startled look in her eyes gave her away. "Around here it's 'drink and don't tell'; hypothetically, I mean. I've got all my credentials right here, if you want to see them-" she pulled out a small worn leather wallet and pulled out her driver's license. It read as 'Mackenzie Holmes, age 18'.
"Oh no, that won't be necessary," Elijah said quickly, waving her off. "I'm merely curious. Do you live nearby?" "Yeah, just right down the block," the girl replied. After she scare with Elijah's previous comment she'd taken a small dish rag and begun to wipe down the counter in front of her, listening all the while. "I go to college at the Mercer satellite campus. I'm working nights here to help pay the rent on my apartment." She cast him a peculiar look. "You're not from the BA, are you?"
The vampire chuckled. "No, no I'm not," he replied, taking another drink from his glass. "And you're not eighteen years old."
The girl named Mackenzie narrowed her gaze at him. "Why do you care? Even if I wasn't, I sure wouldn't tell you. You're a stranger you just walked into a bar and started asking questions…" She'd barely gotten a word out when she saw Elijah casually nick the stoner next to him on the wrist, hold his arm over his glass and dribble a couple drops into his drink before setting him aside. Her face paled and eyes widened. "What the-"
Elijah turned and stared directly into her eyes, focusing on her mind. "I'm sorry," he whispered sternly. "The man accidentally cut himself. Would you be so kind as to get him a bandage? You won't remember this afterwards."
Mackenzie nodded blankly and reached for the first aid kit, but after tending to the gentleman's cut she took the box and slung it at him, her mindset remarkably clear. Being a vampire Elijah caught it in midair with ease, but immediately the barkeep snapped her finger and hurled the candle at him. The flames, which had multiplied in midair at a remarkable speed, licked at the man's coat sleeve, but were put out almost as soon as they hit the wall, leaving faint scorching marks. Elijah ducked another volley of fire from the bartender (whose bar had mysteriously emptied by this time) and held up his hands in warning.
"I'm not here to pick a fight," he stated, backing away from the counter where Mackenzie stood with another couple candles within reach. "Let's just calm down and take this one step at a time."
"You're a vampire!" Mackenzie retorted, fingering the rim of a lighter anxiously. "Look, me and the rest of the guys here have no qualms with your kind coming in here, because what you do outside the bar is none of my affair, but you start snacking inside and we've got issues."
Elijah frowned. "I truly am sorry for my lack of manners. I haven't eaten in days." He motioned towards his seat. "May I sit?" The girl paused, looked him over once or twice, and then shrugged, eying him warily. "Fine. But you finish your glass and you're done, hear me? The Sidebar's not a fast food frenzy."
"Fair enough."
The man took back his seat and drained the rest of his glass in one gulp before setting it off to the side. Then he looked over at Mackenzie intently. "If I may inquire, how did a witch like yourself become wrapped up in a place like this? Certainly there are better restaurants you could have gotten better paying jobs at in this area."
The girl shook her head. "They've either given the job to someone else or already have my résumé. I've worked at all the decent places around here ta least once, over the past 200 years. Immortality sort of does that to you."
She took up a glass of her own, filled it with Evan William's and took a sip. Elijah raised an eyebrow. "How did you end up here?"
Mackenzie shrugged. "The Sidebar doesn't ask questions, and I know a guy. He's a warlock from out of state, does real nice work with fake I.D.s. Puts some sort of charm on it so that it'll pass any kind of inspection police can come up with. I've got another one with age 21 back in my loft. Lord knows when I'll need it." She took another sip, savored the taste, and set it down half full. "Anyways, what brings an Original to Atlanta? We're a long ways from Mystic Falls, if you catch me drift."
The eldest Original blinked, mildly surprised. "How did you know?" Mackenzie in turn laughed. "Covens talk. They pass along information, new discoveries, things to look out for. Usually the covens up in Virginia practice Spirit Magic, so we aren't in contact with them much, but your arrival here was an exception." She laughed again and refilled her glass. "But seriously, you're not here just to see the Peach State. You're here on a mission, am I right?"
Elijah suppressed a grin. "You're quick on the uptake, I'll give you that. I'm looking for my younger brother, Nicklaus Mikaelson. Rumor has it that he traveled this way. Have you heard anything?"
"Nope, but that doesn't mean he wasn't here. The Sidebar's only one watering hole, and Atlanta's got dozens. I know people you could go talk to, but chances are they won't remember much. Compulsion works on most anyone around here, and if your brother didn't want to be found, he probably covered his tracks."
"But not you."
"Of course not me," Mackenzie replied adamantly. "My dad worked with elemental magic like all of the other covens in Georgia, but my mom picked up hoodoo while she was working down in the slums." Elijah nodded in understanding. "Lots of angry people down there, plenty of dark magic," he commented. "She dealt with expression magic, I take it?"
Mackenzie nodded. "Yeah. It used to scare me to death as a kid. After one of her spells went wrong and burnt down the house with her still inside I remember dad saying we were better off without her. This was after she succeeded in experimenting with the immortality spell on me. I've got to admit, I think I was jealous when he finally kicked the bucket. Death would be bliss compared to all the stuff I've gone through. I remember when the mayor was on a wolf-hunting spree back in the 30's. This was when I still worked at the old hotel off of Pike Street. Place is long gone now, but back in its day we used to hide werewolves in the basement during raids. One of the men who was tasked with bringing them in almost killed me trying to get into that cellar door. The whole situation was hush-hush to the public, of course, but still….."
The bartender suddenly stopped and glanced over at Elijah, grinning sheepishly. "You must be tired of listening to me rant and rave about myself. Geez, you don't even know me!" But all Elijah did was laugh. "No, it's fine," he reassured the witch. "You are an old soul, Mackenzie Holmes. Much wiser than most of your age, I can tell."
The girl raised an eyebrow and her glass. "For a 200 year old teenager, you mean?" They both laughed slightly, amused. The clock on the wall struck midnight. Mackenzie noted it, ad with a flick of her wrist the sign on the door turned off and the plaque read 'closed'. "I suppose I'm locking up tonight," she sighed, putting away her glass before taking up Elijah's as well. "It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Mikaelson. After the whole 'throwing fire' incident, I think I actually enjoyed your company."
The Original smiled. "And I yours, Miss Holmes. I do wish you luck on your schooling. Collegiate scholars are the best kind, I've found."
The barkeep chuckled. "Please, call me Mac. All my friends do."
Elijah nodded. "Very well, Mac. Good night." The vampire was about to walk out the door when he suddenly thought of something. "Say, do you have a ride home? It's rather late, even for you."
Mac shook her head as she walked out from behind her counter, running her hand through her light brown hair absentmindedly. "Naw, I walk. It's only a block, I can manage-"
"No, I insist!" Elijah replied, holding the door open for her. "Cities like these are the reason most vampires sleep with full stomachs." Mac laughed, cringing slightly, but nevertheless allowed him to walk her down the street. As they did so Elijah asked her more about Klaus.
"You are certain he did not pass this way?" the Original confirmed. "The Sidebar is the precise reason I came to Atlanta. There was a witch who spotted him at the bar not three weeks ago."
Mac knit her eyebrows together, thinking. "That might have been Stacy. She was there tonight, with her sister Helen. You probably saw them; bottle blonde hair, plastic surgery off the charts?" Elijah nodded, and Mac frowned thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, he might've dropped by. I remember only because he was a good tipper. The guy I was telling you about earlier, remember? Same taste in drink, same height, slightly more haughty?"
"That would be Nicklaus."
"Then I suppose I was wrong then. He was asking around about some event in New Orleans, happened a few decades ago. 50's, 60's, that kind of thing. I'm happy to say he had a hard time finding someone willing to talk about it."
Elijah felt a raindrop on the side of his face and glanced up at the dark sky. There was heavy cloud coverage, with small rumbles of thunder and flashes of light threatening rain. Mac grinned. "The Council is at it again. Some of the Elders have the ability to produce lightning. They're all up in their years, took them forever to figure out how I did it."
The vampire beside her allowed himself a laugh. "You're not an Elder? Given your past and position I'd assumed you'd be at the center of that coven." "No, I prefer to keep a low profile," Mac said. "I sometimes make an appearance the meetings ever so often, but the Elder usually throw themselves at me trying to convince me to join. It gets old after a bit."
"I see," Elijah agreed. "But, back to the topic at hand. What exactly happened that Nicklaus wanted to talk about?"
Mackenzie shuddered, not from the cold drizzling rain but in reverie. "It was awful, what happened in Louisiana. This was after your family left, of course, you wouldn't have dared let it happen… The new leader of the French Quarter, a vampire, he cracked down on the supernatural happenings around the town. The werewolf population, they didn't like it one bit. Some of them rebelled, and the vampire ordered them gone or dead. A lot of them made their way here, but a few simply disappeared. No one knows what happened to them."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it was bad. Your brother, he made rather intrigued by the tale, although he had to wait around to find someone willing to tell him the gruesome details. The story's a bit taboo around here, most just ignore it or forgets it even happened. The only reason I'm telling you now is because the same time all the wolves got run out of town the witch coven there stopped practicing practice. It's ancestral magic, so when they tried to get away from the regime they lost their powers. I know a former warlock who worked near the center of the Quarter who barely made it out of that place in one piece-"
As Mac continued on a memory of Elijah's stirred, one dormant for many years. He snapped to attention at once. "The vampire leader, what was his name?" he asked, as casually as he could. Mac shrugged. "I don't remember. Mason, Max, Martin- it started with an M I believe. I couldn't tell you, though the name Marcel seems to ring a bell. Does he mean anything to you?"
Elijah shook his head once, and then nodded twice. "My brother, actually. It's a family matter. You said he heard the story, but did he do anything after that?"
"Yeah," Mac said. "He left the bar. I never saw him again."
The Original brother groaned. The rain had started to actually fall, this time harder and more forcefully. Mackenzie stepped under a covering next to an apartment building, but he did not follow. "I'm sorry Miss Holmes, but I' afraid I've got to go. There's something I need to take care of-"
The witch waved him off. "Go ahead, I'm fine. This is my building right here. She started up the stairs, but stopped short and looked back. "Man, your family must be pretty screwed up. Immortal younger brother with an interest in werewolves and a nephew who's keeping and controlling the entire French Quarter with fear."
Elijah looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "What makes you think Marcel is my nephew?"
Mac just shrugged. "You said it was a family matter, and your brother. I guessed it was he who sired him."
"A decent assumption, I suppose," Elijah remarked heavily. "Yes, my family is not perfect, but they are family, and family is forever. You can never change that." At his comment the young witch laughed, drawing a curious look from the vampire. "What?"
Mackenzie just chuckled, reaching for the door. "Nothing. Family doesn't mean much to me, is all. I don't exactly have pleasant memories of my mom and dad. Looking back I wouldn't want one either. In my opinion, if I'd had my way from the beginning I wouldn't have had one. Less trouble and pain that way."
The Original inclined his head slightly, feeling a certain amount of empathy for the girl. She had certainly had an unpleasantly hard life. He had an idea. Taking out a scrap piece of paper he printed a message on it and handed to her. Mac took it and unfolded the item. "What's this?"
"My number," he replied simply. "In case you need someone to talk to. You look like you could use a friend, or better."
Mac's eyes narrowed, but a ghost of a smile was flickering across her lips. "I told what I think of families." "It doesn't matter." Elijah stepped back and gave her one last smile. "I have complete faith that you will change your mind."
The teenage-looking witch nodded, taking one last look at it before tucking the number into her pocket. "Thanks... Elijah."
But the Original had already gone.
This is my first time writing 'Vampire Diaries/The Originals', so please, please be kind. I really appreciate it. Thanks!
-rellimmes
