Dawn came late that morning, Rowan thought. She glanced down to her phone then looked back to the horizon, where just a sliver of light glimmered. It came almost an hour later than the day before. It could have been the result of a multitude of things, like daylight savings—which she forgot about every year—or that time stopped again somewhere on Earth. It happens, what with all the witches roaming around. And usually, she wouldn't take notice, or would notice and wouldn't care, but something in the atmosphere shifted last night.
The air felt heavy, stealing the breath from her lungs. The sun, as soon as it appeared, disappeared behind a legion of heavy, grey clouds. The day would be a dark one.
The bodies—all twenty-six of them—smelled of rot and decay. She felt their presence, as she felt all forces of life, as they fluttered around Mystic Falls, no doubt scoping out their new home. She felt the strength of the magic, the eternal hope, the dedication. She also felt the despair, the agony of disappointment after the tomb opened. She felt the loss of a strong witch and the heartache that went with it.
The door behind her clicked open, and she turned to see her children.
Emma and Keenan dressed just as she, in a white linen cloth draped over the shoulder and tied at each hip. To mourn the death of the witch and ease her passing to the other side, they would perform a ritual at dawn. Then afterwards, they would leave. A town full of vampires is no place to raise children. Even if the children were hundreds of years old.
"We're ready, Màthair," Emma said, extending a hand to her mother.
Keenan hummed in agreement.
Rowan slid her hand in her daughter's and allowed herself to be pulled up. Her knees creaked from sitting on the front steps at such an extreme angle.
Emma grimaced.
"I'm sorry," Rowan said, rubbing her hands together. They were sticky from crushing vervain. Her bare feet were covered in it. As an extra precaution, she picked the vervain from their garden—Mystic Falls was founded by vampires, so it only makes sense that their kind were naturally drawn to the place—and crushed it, sprinkling the herb around the perimeter of the yard, and the rest in random places on the grass. Crushing it released its chemical compounds, so the air was saturated with the smell of vervain.
She held her hand out to Keenan, who held three white candle sticks. He handed one to her and gave a sad smile. While the Fae feel the loss of a witch, other witches and warlocks feel it heavier.
"I'm here for you," Rowan said, staring into his green eyes, then turned to Emma, "and you. Come. Let's start."
Rowan walked into the grass, searching for a spot clear of vervain. When she found it, she turned to her children and held out the candle with her left hand, placing the right one beneath it. Emma and Keenan followed her lead.
He watched her from across the street, cloaked in the shadows of branches and leaves. How long had it been since he'd seen her?
His fingers trembled at the proximity.
The scent of lilacs mixed with vervain.
Her hair, black as the night he'd taken her, swept across the curve of her lower back. It covered the tips of her ears, which pointed to the sun. It was the only thing, other than her otherworldly beauty, that set her apart from the humans.
The outline of her skin beneath the sheet wrapped around her taunted, beckoned him. His gums throbbed with the memory of his teeth sinking into her neck. The way the gold sparkled, slid down the curve of her breasts.
It was the vampire equivalent of human ecstasy.
Nails barred into his palms, and he grit his teeth. He had to have her again. He'd do anything, be anything, to make her his again. But first, he had to break the curse. It was the only thing separating them. He'd find Katarina. Get the moonstone. Break the curse. Create an army of hybrids. And she would be his queen.
After it all, she'd understand. She'd come back to him.
Klaus wasn't one to take no for an answer.
Rowan felt him nearby. The soles of her feet felt the heaviness of his energy. She couldn't pinpoint his location, but he was close.
"Let's head back inside," she said to her children. "We have an unwelcome visitor."
Keenan narrowed his eyes across the street. He could sense the bastard, too.
Rowan placed a hand on his arm and pulled him away. But she couldn't stop Emma from sending a barrel of energy through the soles of her feet. Even through shoes, Klaus' feet would be badly burned.
Rowan turned to scold her daughter, but as soon as Klaus' energy disappeared, she couldn't find it in herself to say anything. A weight she hadn't noticed lifted from her chest. Instead, she threaded one arm through her daughter's and one through her son's, leading them back into the house.
Klaus wouldn't be back for a while at least. Rowan would have enough time to pack her things, along with her children, and leave town before he noticed. He'd be too busy nursing the blisters on his feet.
But they would be back. And Rowan had a feeling it would be sooner than she would have liked.