A/N: So, here's something I've been working on for quite some time. This is AU with some semi-canon stuff from TVD, and it has a mix of 'Lucky Ones' and 'Hypnotic' because I don't think I've tried the supernatural/mystery thing, so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
War of Hearts
Klaus Mikaelson slouched low in the chair, well-worn combat boots propped up on the littered surface of the table as he stared sullenly into space, absent-mindedly twirling the tumbler in one hand, the lack of alcohol in it further pitching his already foul mood. Rousseau's was empty, void of staff and customers whom he had painstakingly compelled to leave and never return. Outside, two of his most-trusted minions stood watch by the door while he sulked in his inner turmoil.
The world in his head was utter chaos and he needed some peace and quiet to sort them out; compartmentalize his emotions in the best way possible. Surely he could have indulged himself in a blood-spilling rampage—it would certainly appease his beast, albeit temporarily—but he didn't think his brother, Elijah, would take too kindly to covering up a massacre, at least not with all the unnecessary shit-stirring drama happening in his life.
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Klaus hauled the empty glass across the room, watching in satisfaction as it collided with the far wall and shattered into unrecognizable fragments, showering shards across the parquet floor like the teardrops of sparkling diamonds. It did nothing to sate his raging appetite, and a bottle still half-filled with bourbon became his next unfortunate victim.
Come to me
In the night hours
I will wait for you
And I can't sleep
"That's a waste of Jefferson's Presidential Select, don't you think?"
Her.
Red Coat.
He was clearly losing his touch if he hadn't even heard the lady enter, but he shouldn't be surprised. She had a way of slipping under his radar in ways that both irked and impressed him. The corner of his lips twitched involuntarily, though he kept his piercing blue eyes stubbornly glued to an uninteresting spot on the wooden panels, refusing to allow her the pleasure of catching the Original Big Bad Hybrid off-guard. Her heady scent swirled hypnotically in the air, a mix of lavender and wine, her intoxicating presence promptly accompanied by the calculated steps she took, high-heels clicking poignantly against the hollow flooring beneath her feet.
Cause thoughts devour
Thoughts of you consume
"How'd you manage to elude them, love?"
"You mean Tweedledee and Tweedledum out there?" she replied smoothly, stopping across the table just short of where he was, her long, shapely legs sliding into his periphery, and his fingers itched to feel all that porcelain skin on him once again. "Your security detail is sorely lacking; I'm almost disappointed. You need to have words with those two, Klaus."
"I can assure you I'll have more than just that."
The soft rustle of heavy wool finally attracted his gaze. It landed, unwavering, on the stunning blonde presented in front of him. Luscious golden curls cascaded over her shoulders, each coil precisely arranged to perfection, her cornflower blue eyes—lined with kohl and fringed by mascara-laden lashes—danced with a glint of bold amusement. They hinted at familiarity, at the warmth that always intrigued him, yet inscrutable with the burden of secrecies. Pink lips taunted him with that deceptively innocent smile; the one he was certain she exploited to its full potential to charm on unsuspecting victims.
A young vampire; about half a century into her afterlife.
He didn't know her name.
She never once gave it to him.
But she always wore a coat.
That particular one, in a shade of red as deep as the blood keeping them alive.
The very first time she had accosted him in a dingy bar a ways off the ruins of Palenque, he had his fangs deep into a backpacker's jugular. She sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, eyes slanted and staring straight at him, fearless even in the presence of a feeding creature—donned in crimson and black, heavy material flaring out at her cinched waist, a gait of a predator—and rudely wrenched the unconscious lad from his grasp before leaning over, gliding her tongue sensually up the column of Klaus' neck to lick the remnants of the blood dribbling down his throat.
If the woman were anybody else, she would've been long dead—after all, he had killed for far less—so it was quite a mystery why he was allowing such intimacy with this enchanting siren. Perhaps he appreciated her brazenness, the confident way in which she carried herself, or the identical determination he recognized in himself burning bright in her cerulean orbs. She was a fighter, a survivor; someone who had seen too much in her brief existence, who could understand him without needing to explain a single thing.
"Genevieve," she husked out hotly in his ear. "French Quarter Coven."
His flashing eyes snapped up to meet hers, the name triggering something cold and leery in the darkest abyss of his soul, but she was so beautiful, so radiant, her voice so alluring, he paused to let her continue, his double-fangs retracting, the dark veins receding. He hadn't seen her before, of that he was sure; didn't think he would ever forget such a pretty little thing in all of his centuries on the face of the planet. Contented now that she had his undivided attention, the baby vampire took another daring step forward and straddled his lap, her thighs securely bracketing his tapered hips.
"You want to know who killed him, don't you?" she crooned, the tips of their noses grazing as her hands trailed down the sides of his lean torso. "Your brother, Kol?"
He stiffened, eyes ablaze with a fresh wave of resentment. "Who are you?" he hissed through gritted teeth.
She flattened her palms against his chest, her touch searing through his clothes. "She's in Selfoss."
"Iceland?"
"Last I heard, at least."
He blinked; barely a fraction of a second, and she was gone.
Instead of taking the unoccupied chair in front of him, she chose to hoist herself up on the table, not the least bit bothered by his shoes, the array of condensation rings or the specks of cracked peanut shells on its surface. The hem of her dress rode up as she primly crossed one leg over the other, fingers casually tapping a rhythm against the edge of the furniture, not in much of a hurry to be anywhere else, even though he knew better.
"You know something."
She scoffed with a theatrical roll of her eyes. "Of course I do."
"Tell me."
"You know I will, but what's in it for me?" Red Coat quipped back impishly.
Klaus raised an eyebrow and graced her with a smirk, one that showcased the twin dimples he was certain she couldn't resist. Lifting his feet off the table, he scooted a little closer to her; his stormy blue irises bore into her tempestuous ones with the reverence of an enamored man as the wolf in him shuddered to be unleashed, to possess her in every which way possible. Trembling fingers traced up the slope of her calves, forging a path he wished he could brand into her flesh higher until they grazed the edge of her dress. In one harsh nudge, he drew her thighs apart.
"Are you still doubting me, sweetheart?" he drawled.
"I would be a fool to trust you."
He hummed drowsily, his lips inches away from her dripping core as he toyed with the dampened lace of her thong. "As you should be," he murmured before dropping a fleeting kiss right at the heart of her arousal.
A resounding gasp echoed around the empty bar. "Are we really doing this here?"
"I don't recall it being a problem for us before," he grinned devilishly. Pushing the flimsy fabric aside, he growled at the sight of her glistening folds, so potent and tempting, before plunging two digits in.
Her spine arched, head thrown back, and silken waves tumbling down like spun gold.
"Fuck! Klaus!"
"That's right, love," he purred, flexing his fingers in search of the sweet spot he knew all too well would send her spiraling in the brink of oblivion. Restlessly she squirmed, emitting impatient, keening noises as she attempted to grind down on his hand. "Go on," he prompted, withdrawing until he was just barely tickling her with the tip of his pointer. "Scream for me."
He drove in and she fell apart completely.
Her hips flew off the surface; his name resonated like a litany of naughty promises.
What a fucking vision she was, flushed and panting, still trembling against him.
I can't help but love you
Even though I try not to
Gradually, he eased her down with shallow, steady strokes, watching with keen interest as her taut muscles eventually relaxed. He loved observing the tiny nuances in her expressions, loved cataloguing the minute details in her every reaction and committing them to memory to accompany him during the long roads and lonely nights. With one final open-mouthed kiss upon her sensitive bud, he cupped the firm globes of her rear and rose up to full height, reeling her in. Her pelvis collided gloriously with his straining bulge, and Klaus reveled in the way she groaned sultrily when he rocked into her.
"Is that incentive enough for you, sweetheart?"
She hooked her legs around him to still his movements, twisting the front of his Henley in her clenched fists. "Fucking you is just an added perk, Klaus."
"Yet there's something you need from me."
Her demeanor turned solemn. "Yes," she said, loosening her tight grip on his shirt to run her hands down the ridges of his pectorals. "A favor, if you will."
She was distracting him on purpose, a tactic he was accustomed to each time she wanted to avoid answering an invasive question—as he was prone to doing—and immediately his curiosity was piqued, his misplaced protectiveness of her up in full mast. Catching her wrists before she could venture further south and into dangerous territory, he casted his furrowed brows at her faux-innocent expression.
"You've never asked me for a favor before."
There was a shrug of her dainty shoulders and the saucy twinkle in those vivid blue eyes bloomed once again. "I thought it was about time I cash in on that."
"What is this about, love?"
She discharged herself from his restrains and caressed the skin above the waistband of his jeans. "I need—" Deftly, she undid his button and lowered his zipper. "A page of—" Her dexterous hand swept in. Tongue between her teeth, she took his engorged erection in a firm hold and gave it an explicit stroke. His resilient self-control was fast unraveling, as it always did when she touched him so intimately. "The grimoire in Kol's Playhouse."
Of course she would know about that too.
"Kol has quite an extensive collection," he grated out, hissing as she circled her thumb over his swollen head. "Do you have a particular one in mind?"
Her head lolled to the side, exposing the slender slope of her neck when she lined him up at her entrance. "The one in his not-so-secret safe."
One swift thrust and he was sheathed to the hilt. The sudden sensation—the feel of being completely ensconced in her wet heat, the entirety of filling her up—tore simultaneous groans from deep within their chests. His limbs trembled as he fought with the desire to claim her like the wolf in him craved for, to take what was his and pound her into submission; carnal and primal, and all things animalistic until she could think of nothing else but his essence. The gentleman in him, though—thousand-year-old hybrid or not—allowed her the small reprieve to adjust to his length and girth.
"Son of a bitch, Mikaelson," she rasped out.
Smugness adorned his features. "Yes, Esther had been called that a time or a hundred in her life—"
"Still your mother, Klaus, don't be an ass," she huffed. "And why aren't you moving—oh!"
He slammed into her unapologetically, swooping down to capture her enticing lips. "The page, love; what do you need it for?"
"Safe-keeping."
Her vagueness vexed him enough to give pause because he loathed being kept in the dark. "No offense, but I find that rather ironic, considering you're about to remove it from where it's currently the safest."
She squirmed against him, seeking friction. "Oh, please. It's been nearly a decade and you still haven't managed to find a single thing about me. Things stay hidden unless I decide otherwise."
I can't help but want you
I know that I'd die without you
He would call her out on her bullshit if he weren't aware of how true that was.
"Consider it done."
"Good."
They had successfully wrecked the place.
Chairs were knocked askew, tables either broken or overturned, and the noticeable dent near the door meant that somebody would need to re-plaster the wall. Visibly sated amidst the blatant disarray, two figures lay sprawled out on the floor. Stark naked and coated in a sheen of sweat, gleaming in the semi-darkness, both attempting to regain proper consciousness, Klaus peered down at the baby vampire currently draped over his torso.
"You alright, love?"
She chuckled, her breath tickling his collarbone as he absentmindedly skimmed his index finger up and down the length of her arm. He heard her sigh wistfully, but when she propped her chin up on his chest, all traces of humor vanished, her expression turning grave.
"The Phoenix Stone."
He froze, but he knew long before that she was able to see past his bullshit to bother masking his reaction. "Last I heard, it's somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic."
"Not anymore."
"And you know where it is."
She hesitated.
"I do."
He was with Elijah in Cappadocia, following another lead in their search for Genevieve, when he chanced upon her for the second time. Clad in that unmistakable red coat, she was already seated in a tiny hole-in-the-wall café, sipping on black coffee and sampling a plate of sweet Turkish delights.
"Should I be flattered, love?" he asked with a wolfish grin as he took a seat across from her.
She rolled those enigmatic baby blues, shining with playfulness. "Yeah, because an idiot couldn't have tracked you just as easily," she retorted. "You're not exactly good at the whole subtlety thing, Klaus."
"Perhaps I wasn't aiming for that at all," he intoned, steepling his hands over his stomach. "Perhaps I like making a grand entrance."
"And how has that helped you with catching Genevieve so far?"
He slanted his gaze, the blasé manner in which she had called out on his flaw leaving a bitter taste down his throat. "I'd watch my tongue if I were you."
"She's not here," the blonde informed him curtly, back to business, probably sensing that their flirtatious banter was at a roadblock. "She left this morning."
"Where to?"
Red Coat leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow. "That's your job to find out, not mine."
Annoyance and frustration clouded his features, his stance coiled tight as he flexed his fingers against the cold metal of his chair. Reaching into his jacket, Klaus pulled out his cellphone, sending a quick text to his brother on the updates and to get the jet ready, before surging to his feet.
"Wait."
Before he could even flinch, she was within inches of his face, her delicate fingers sifting through the curls at the base of his neck. Her exhilarating scent reached his nose, lulling him forward, and then her succulent lips were pressed against his in a whisper of a kiss; far too brief for his liking.
"Don't you think Hayley Marshall's being a bit too cozy with Elijah lately?"
He blinked at the unexpected question. "That bothersome werewolf?"
"You should ask her who else she's been fraternizing with."
"Are you certain of this, Niklaus?"
The hybrid spun away from his perch by the fireplace to face his older brother, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. Elijah, sat poised and regal in a couch, dressed as always in an impeccable suit and polished shoes, regarded him with a wary frown.
"I can't take the chances," he responded tersely. "We need to find that Phoenix Stone before it falls into the wrong hands."
"In case you have forgotten, brother, we do have other priorities demanding our attention at the moment," Elijah reminded him, referring to the sudden influx of werewolves inhabiting the Bayou. It was fast becoming a menace, and Marcel had requested for assistance. "How are you sure this isn't merely a ploy to distract our current efforts?"
Klaus' eyes flared golden for a second. "I trust her, Elijah."
Tilting his head, the other man narrowed his sharp gaze. "That baby vampire you know nothing about?"
"She has provided us with invaluable information on numerous occasions," he snapped back agitatedly, because even after centuries together, his older sibling still questioned his judgment. "Need I jog your memory about Genevieve and Kol? What about that humdrum doppelgänger, Elena? Was it satisfying when you ripped Hayley's heart from her chest after learning of her betrayal?"
"Enough." Elijah's booming voice reverberated in the common room. "You have made your point, Niklaus."
"Well then, I reckon we should pay our dear baby sister a little visit in New York."
Rebekah wasn't amused.
She whinged on for a good fifteen minutes about the courtesy of giving her a call or leaving a voicemail, or even a text message, and how incredibly rude it was to show up unannounced and expect her to drop everything again to be the sidekick to her three ungrateful brothers.
"Honestly, Bekah, could you screech any louder?" Kol snarked. "I think the dogs in the North Pole couldn't hear you."
A stiletto sailed through the air barely inches from his head, wheezing past his ear and landing with a thump a distance away. "Sod off, you prick."
"We have reason to believe that the Phoenix Stone is scheduled to be displayed in the Maritime Museum," Elijah clued her in on the recent developments. "The sword is safe with the Salvatores in Mystic Falls, but even without it, the stone is a powerful thing."
Rebekah flipped her straight-ironed hair over her shoulder. "And you're sure that the stone's here?"
Klaus' patience was running thin, and his family was wasting precious time standing around hypothesizing on the validity of the treasure's existence. "Yes, I'm sure."
"And who else knows of this?"
"Why, Nik's tasty little girlfriend, of course," Kol chimed in with a shit-eating grin, flinging himself unceremoniously onto the chic leather sofa. "The mysterious blonde with the red coat."
The female Mikaelson threw her hands up in the air. "That's just fucking perfect, isn't it? We're supposed to trust the words of a harlot with questionable fashion sense."
A rush of rage careened into his gut and seared through his veins, and then Klaus had her violently pinned to the wall by her throat. Pieces of plaster cracked as her skull made contact, but Rebekah only sneered maliciously back at him. Positioning his lips a hair's breadth away from her ear, he lowered his tone threateningly.
"If you value that human of yours whom you've been busy frolicking with, I suggest you keep any further comments you might have about her to yourself."
His sister only met his hardened stare head on, with equal ferocity and sole determination of a true Mikaelson; a battle of wills between two siblings. He was temperamental with mercurial mood swings, but she had the stubbornness of a mule.
"Let her go, Niklaus," Elijah finally intervened. "This display is unnecessary. We're wasting precious time."
Begrudgingly, he released her, but not without one final warning in his piercing glare.
"I don't know about you lot, but I don't think stealing a stone would actually require all four of us," Kol mused out loud.
Contrary to popular belief, underneath all that sleazing and womanizing, the wily troublemaker possessed a level of cunning intelligence equivalent to that of history's most famous of criminals. Back in the twenties, he had single-handedly drained bank accounts from some of the most corrupted politicians. People tend to underestimate his abilities, but that was certainly to his advantage, and he leveraged on that on several accounts.
Klaus was actually rather proud of the little twat.
"You're right, Kol, it doesn't."
She was brave to come to him on the morning after a full moon. Changing at will was convenient to say the least, but it didn't mean that he was immune to the pull of magic running in his veins when such nights occurred. His nature had been repressed for long enough; it was itching to run free. The crisp wind in his thick coat of fur, the scent of trees and damp grass, the crunch of fallen twigs beneath his paws; there was nothing more liberating than that as he howled and hunted for his kill.
He was rudely roused out of a deep slumber to clothes being thrown at his face, instantly knowing it wasn't Elijah when her potent musk overwhelmed his senses. His blood roared like bonfire, the adrenalin still pumping fresh, and the sight of her standing over him—those long, gorgeous legs paired with that trademark crimson coat—sent a ball of arousal hurtling southwards to his awakening manhood. With arms akimbo, she peered down at him.
"Get dressed, Klaus," she greeted saccharinely. "I don't have all day."
Dimples cutting deep into his scruffy cheeks, he propped himself up on one elbow and leisurely appraised her beauty. "Good morning to you too, sweetheart. Lovely day to be lounging out in the woods, don't you think?"
The baby vampire arched an eyebrow pointedly at his apparent erection, not the least bit affected by his lewd innuendo or his unabashedly naked state. "I found Genevieve's mauled corpse a hundred yards back," she remarked, leaning against the tree bark. "You did quite a number on her."
"I find the chase just as memorable as the hunt," he winked before climbing to his feet and stalking over to where she stood, each step laced with voracious intent, the wolf in him craving to claim her in the most primal of ways. A whiff of arousal filtered through the air and penetrated through his superior senses and his nose flared at the hypnotic scent, his eyes clouding and glinting golden. "Why are you here, love?"
Her curls tumbled down her shoulder as she tilted her chin up slightly, effectively exposing the alluring line of her jaw, and his mouth watered at the provoking sight. "You know why I'm here, Klaus."
Delving his fingers into those silky strands, he angled her head closer and grazed the tip of his nose down the smooth column of her neck, inhaling deeply, savoring her, as his eyelids slammed shut. "Why are you helping me?" he murmured, tone gruff from barely-restrained control.
She traced the dark ink of his tattoo, her touch sending jolts of electricity down his spine as he shivered. "Let's just say, compared to everybody else in our fucked up world, your life is by far the most exciting," she moaned, nails latching onto the pliant flesh of his biceps when he darted his tongue out to sample at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "It also doesn't hurt that you're the Original Hybrid."
He nipped at her lobe, curling his other hand over the dip of her waist. "If you're just using me, love—"
"Well, I'm not the only one, am I?"
With a hard push, he shoved her back up against the tree, delighting in the way a small gasp escaped her throat. Klaus bore his gaze down onto hers, flipped the skirt of her dress and ground his pelvis insistently into her clothed one; taunting her to challenge him, prove him wrong, but she only grinned wickedly in return and rolled her hips, the lacy texture of her thong rubbing deliciously against his rigid length.
"I don't take too kindly to deception," he growled.
"Neither do I."
Cupping the underside of her thighs, Klaus lifted her higher and hoisted her up on his shoulders. She squeaked from the unexpected maneuver, her hands automatically clutching at his disheveled hair, and then whimpered, almost keening, when his lips made contact with her soaking wet core. He nuzzled her through the sodden fabric—now a hindrance more than anything—and deciding she wouldn't be too upset over it, he ripped the scrap of material with one flick of his wrist. Unable to wait a second longer, he dove in.
Stay with me a little longer
I will wait for you
"Fuck!" she cried out, clawing into the rough bark for balance as she squirmed against his face. "Klaus, oh my—shit!" He held her in place, his ardent tongue laving and lapping at her sweet nectar, swallowing every single last drop of her essence. She was exquisite on his palate, dripping like warm honey, but still he wanted more; wanted her gushing all over him. Redoubling his efforts, Klaus fervently coaxed her over the edge. Dangerously close to the precipice, he captured her bundle of nerves between his lips, sucked on the swollen bud and hummed as she completely shattered above him.
His torso was saturated with her release, mouth glistening and coating his chin with a layer of sheen. Her thighs trembled, her gurgled rasps turning into quiet mewls and leaning heavily against the only support she had, but he still wasn't done with her. Adjusting his stance, Klaus slowly lowered her down.
"You alright, sweetheart?" he asked when she appeared a little unsteady on her fee, smirking at the sight of her flushed cheeks and hooded lids.
"Damn it, Klaus," she replied breathily. "Now you're just playing dirty."
He brushed a stray damp curl from her forehead. "I didn't know there were rules," he teased, and just because he could help himself, Klaus swooped in and kissed her, languid and unhurried.
Shadows creep
And want grows stronger
Deeper than the truth
"A little bird from the human faction in New Orleans is looking for you."
That wasn't unfamiliar news to him, and a mere human was hardly a threat.
"I have no business there," he said with a shrug. "That's Marcel's territory."
Her eyes narrowed, offended by his quick dismissal. "You know I wouldn't inform you if I thought it was that trivial."
"What's her name?"
"Camille O'Connell."
The Heretics were found murdered in cold blood; a gruesome massacre, their bodies mangled and nearly indiscernible. It was a horrific scene right out of a gory horror movie—crushed bones and battered skulls, hearts and throats ripped apart as if mauled by werewolves—and Klaus fought down the temper brewing in his gut, threatening to lash out at the first thing he could find.
"Lillian's missing," Stefan announced gravely as he approached, words stilted with his fingers clenched tightly by his sides. "The sword, too. Damon is on it right now."
"He'll have a lot more than just the doppelgänger to worry about if he returns empty-handed," the Original snarled. "Where's the Bennett witch?"
Stefan crouched down to take a closer look at the nearest corpse. "She's currently in Europe with Enzo," he muttered stonily, shifting some chunks of caramel-colored hair away from the dead woman's face. "My mom is a lot of things but I don't think she's capable of slaughtering her own coven."
"No, and judging by the freshness of the kill, I would reckon that it happened about two to three hours ago," Klaus observed, nudging aside a dislocated limb with the heel of his boot.
"In broad daylight?"
"Hybrids."
The younger Salvatore sprung to his feet and marched up to his oldest acquaintance. "One of yours?"
Under any other circumstances, Klaus wouldn't have let such slander pass, but given that there was much history between them—not to mention the continuous backstabbing from his own biological mother—he felt much obliged to let this one tiny oversight slide. If anything, this new reverie sparked new concerns for him, and for all supernatural creatures alike. "Unfortunately, all of mine are fully accounted for," he grimly replied. "Werewolves can't transition without a full moon."
"Someone's figured out another way to make hybrids."
Klaus kept his eyes peeled straight ahead, his muscles twitching. "A witch."
"Lillian couldn't have done this," Stefan stated, his voice shaking with emotions. "She's not a Siphoner. Even if she was, she'd need a source to perform magic."
"A source powerful enough to create an army of hybrids without the need for your dear Elena's blood." Klaus' lips curled up into a vicious sneer. "Malevolent enough to kill her own kind."
Stefan's sharp intake of air echoed through the space, thick and heavy; suffocating with unspoken horrors.
"The Original Witch," he gulped. "But that can't be; it's impossible, she's—"
The trill of a cellphone interrupted the vampire mid-sentence.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the offending device, Klaus scowled at the name flashing on his screen. "What, Bekah?" he barked. "We've just uncovered some disturbing news, so I hope for both our sakes that what you're about to tell me is important."
"Esther."
He turned around to see the color draining from Stefan's face.
"Nik, our mother; I saw her."
Candles flickered, painting a dramatic picture and bathing the room in rich amber, the darkness as bitter as the scotch in his hand. The vast mansion felt hollow, though the palpable tension radiating between the two men spoke volumes even in the numbing silence. Klaus watched him closely, eyes narrowed over the rim of his tumbler as Stefan sat unmoving, staring pensively down at the antique coffee table, his drink still untouched and dangling carelessly from his fingers.
"Nik!"
The hybrid released a long-suffering sigh upon hearing Kol hollering for him from the foyer despite the fact that every single being in the house had enhanced hearing abilities. Sometimes he wondered if the little git just enjoyed pissing him off.
"You here?"
"In the common room if you will, brother," he deadpanned.
Two sets of footsteps—squeaking sneakers and clicking stilettos—drew nearer.
"What the bloody hell is he doing here?" Rebekah demanded the second she crossed the threshold, her nose scrunched in distaste. Shifting her weight to one leg, she planted a hand on her hip and glared pointedly at the guest in question. "Are we picking up strays now?"
Stefan forced a pleasant grin. "Nice to see you too, Bekah."
"Do you have the stone, Kol?"
Rebekah flung her hands in the air in a theatrical fashion. "Why would you ask him about it? I was there too, Nik—"
Klaus' cutting gaze halted her childish rambling, an underlying threat should she continue to test his tolerance with her petty ways. "Do you have the stone?"
The grimace on Kol's face was more than enough indication that his two younger siblings had once again fucked up somehow. Fully aware that he had seconds to explain himself before his older brother flew into a raging fit, the sadistic hedonist schooled his features into something more contrite.
"Alright, first of all, Nik, it wasn't our fault," he warily began, both palms raised in a placating manner. "The stone was already gone when we arrived. We tried tracking it down—compelled and killed a few people along the way—but it was as if it didn't even exist in the first place; as if someone or something was cloaking it. Nobody working in the fucking museum had heard about a so-called Phoenix Stone."
Klaus cursed under his breath, the glass cracking beneath his choking grip.
"It has to be mother, right, Nik?" Rebekah murmured. "It can't possibly be a coincidence that we saw her in New York."
"You're right; it's not a coincidence." Setting the tumbler down on the table, Klaus rose to his feet and turn his back to them, hands clasped firmly behind. "Neither was the massacre of the Heretics in the woods of Mystic Falls."
Kol scrunched his brows in confusion. "The Heretics? Is this where you come in, Salvatore? Your mother's lovely creations."
"You're one to talk, Mikaelson," Stefan retorted. "But yes, it appears that my mom had decided to commit genocide on her own kind before skipping town with the Phoenix Sword."
Rebekah scoffed. "And where's Damon in all of this?"
"He's tracking her as we speak."
"And what about mother dearest?" the blonde questioned, darting her eyes from one man to another. "How is she part of this?"
"That's fairly easy to figure out, baby sister," Kol chirped, and Klaus had to suppress a growing smirk at the perplexed look marring Stefan's chiseled features. "How else better to siphon magic than from the Original Witch herself?"
"I thought your mother was merely a vampire?"
Stefan nodded stoically. "She is, but what she really needed was for Esther to create an army of hybrids. Valerie must've known; she had tried warning me about a powerful witch, but it hadn't made any sense at the moment. Lillian must've wanted the Heretics dead so that they wouldn't intervene and foil her plans."
With an exaggerated sweep of his arms, Kol hooted. "Welcome to the world of sociopathic mothers, Stefan."
"Where would they even find so many werewolves to make hybrids?" Rebekah wondered.
"I think I can answer that, Rebekah."
Heads swiveled around at the newest arrival.
"About time you joined the party, 'Lijah," Kol remarked sardonically. "We were all beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
Elijah regally arched an eyebrow. "Marcel had plenty to say regarding his sticky situation with the werewolves in the Bayou. Three months back, there had been a steady increase in their population, some of them faring as far as Washington. They had started to invade on the Crescent Wolf Pack's territory, and tensions had risen. Three days ago, those werewolves simply left."
"Why gather them all here, though?" Rebekah mused out loud.
"Maybe Esther and Lillian thought we wouldn't suspect a thing," Stefan suggested with a shrug. "What better place to find an army than the Bayou?"
The oldest Mikaelson cleared his throat, sliding his hands into the pockets of his steam-pressed trousers. "Unfortunately, that's not the only bad news I have for you, Niklaus."
"What else is there, brother?"
"There had been an intrusion at the cemetery."
Kol balked. "What? My playhouse—"
"Someone's found a way in, I'm afraid," Elijah reported solemnly. "I've searched the entire tomb and it doesn't seem as if anything's been taken, though I can't be entirely sure of that. However, I found your safe opened. Whoever broke in knew exactly what he or she was looking for."
Klaus directed his attention to his younger brother. "Kol, do you remember the page in your grimoire that I had you copy out for me as a favor?"
"Yeah, that…see…" he winced, a reminiscent of all the times he had gotten himself into various degrees of trouble. "I didn't exactly copy it out. The page held no meaning to me, so I simply handed you the original."
"Well, are you going to tell us what's on it?" Rebekah ordered prissily.
Kol pursed his lips together. "It's a binding spell; well, half of it, at least."
"Half?" she shrieked. "And what kind of binding spell, exactly."
"I'm not entirely sure." At the various incredulous looks he received, Kol sputtered, "I can't decipher just half of a binding spell, for goodness sake!"
"Esther and Lillian must already have the other half, then," Stefan surmised.
Klaus glowered at his brother. "Give me a very good reason why I shouldn't sever your neck right this second."
A menacing step forward had Kol gingerly inching closer to the doorway, already anticipating the unpleasant situation ahead as Klaus continued seething internally from the idiocy of it all. Another step and the git whooshed out of the room, returning a blink later with a crimson piece of clothing in his grasp; one that he was all too familiar with.
The air left Klaus' lungs in one sharp exhale.
"Where'd you get that?"
"We found it in the museum," Kol told him quietly, any traces of his innate humor thrown out the window. "It was draped over one of the exhibits."
Klaus' fingers closed around the red coat, cold in his palm and devoid of warmth, but a jolt went through his arm as he caught a quick whiff of her distinct scent still lingering on the soft fabric. Breath shuddering in his chest and struggling not to show everybody just how affected he was, he forced down the bile rising in his throat.
"Is this a fucking joke?" he spat out. "Because I swear to God, Kol—"
"It's not," Rebekah jumped in. "I was the one who found it, Nik, not Kol. I told him to leave it alone but he wouldn't listen, of course."
"Don't you get it, sister?" Kol snapped irritably. "She wanted us to find it; or rather, she wanted you to find it, Nik."
Conflicted, Klaus' perfectly honed façade flitted between the maelstroms of emotions that he failed to hide, his resilience cracking as those tempestuous feelings threatened to burst out and run amok. She had sent him a message; one that didn't take much to figure out in a beat.
"She was there and they took her."
Stefan had his cellphone already whipped out. "Shall I call Bonnie, then?"
Despite the fact that that hybrids—and vampires alike—couldn't receive a migraine unless it was magic-induced, Klaus found himself developing one as he strode out of Rousseau's after a painfully long conversation—if it was even that—with a particular blonde bartender hell-bent on overthrowing his protégé over something as petty and insignificant as the vampire seducing and then eating her best friend.
Honestly.
Some people needed to rework their perspectives in life.
"I think it's cute that she has a little crush on you."
The edges of his lips curled upwards, impressed that she had managed what so few had been able to do, but found himself surprisingly fine with it. Anybody else who would even think to sneak up on him like that would have their heads severed within seconds.
But not her.
"You know, love," he began, striding down the dank alleyway to where she was casually leaning against the brick wall, donned in rouge and ivory. "Eavesdropping is considered rude and punishable by offence in some areas of the globe."
Her playful grin turned utterly sinful as he stood before her, arms raised and palms braced on either side of her head. "Fortunately, this part isn't one of them," she purred, tracing a finger tantalizingly down from his sternum to the center of his pectorals. "And it wasn't that hard to tell when a woman's using her sexy voice when she's shamelessly flirting."
Lowering his face, Klaus burrowed his nose into the nook below her jaw. "There's no need to be jealous now, sweetheart."
"Oh, hilarious," she deadpanned, half-heartedly shoving at his chest. "I actually have something for you." Her hand slid into the front pocket of his jeans; purposely slow, diving deeper and drifting longer than absolutely necessary before pulling out, her hot breath fanning his ear. "Don't lose it."
He peppered fleeting kisses down the side of her cheek. "And what exactly is on that piece of paper?"
"The doppelgänger," she murmured. "Thought you'd be interested."
Klaus found the edge of her knickers, fingers dipping between her thighs to the apex of her femininity. A groan rumbled in his throat when they came away glistening with the evidence of her arousal, her hips chasing after his touch. "I'm not."
"You will be," the baby vampire huffed as she worked to unbuckle his belt and tug his trousers down to his knee. She smirked upon realizing his lack of underwear, amused almost at his shameless gall for going commando. "Because the Salvatore brothers definitely are."
"Did they learn nothing from that disastrous fiasco with Katerina?" he grunted before gently slapping her eager hands away from his stiff erection and taking over. Hooking her long, toned legs around his waist, he pushed her tighter up against the wall. With a quick brush of his swollen tip between her drenched folds, Klaus lined himself up at her entrance and allowed her to sheath him completely. "Fuck, you feel exquisite, love."
I can't help but love you
Even though I try not to
She squirmed, inner muscles clenching around his pulsing shaft, and the delicious friction it caused from that small movement had him involuntarily bucking into her. "Klaus!" she cried out to the skies, desperately rutting and grinding down. "Oh…oh, fuck—they're keeping her—oh, God—safe, of course," she managed between ragged pants. "From you."
"Fools."
"Try to keep Mystic Falls intact, okay?"
I can't help but want you
I know that I'd die without you
"No promises, love."
He was never one for being patient; never one to sit around and wait for bullshit miracles to happen, and the helplessness he felt over the situation was slowly ripping him apart. Four hours had passed since Stefan had called the Bennett witch, and after a much heated discussion involving death threats and what not, Klaus had summoned his private jet en route to Berlin with promises he wasn't certain he had the capacity to keep.
Polishing off the umpteenth glass of bourbon, he blindly reached his hand out for a refill when his fingers closed around soft wool instead. Slightly scratchy, though the fabric appeared lush and well worn, it currently felt lifeless in his hold, empty without her radiance, and he tightened his grasp in hopes of capturing the last glimmers of her essence still intertwined in the threads.
And then he felt it.
Something caught in between the stitched layers; something cylindrical.
I can't help but be wrong in the dark
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts
I can't help but want oceans to part
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts
He ripped the hemline open without a second thought, a breach in her privacy the least of his concerns. A vial containing dark crimson liquid—blood, evidently—tumbled into his palm, accompanied by a very familiar slip of paper. Fingers twitching, he unfolded it, reading and re-reading every single detail on it, and then it finally dawned on him that perhaps his brother was a right fucking genius after all, had most probably been aware of the baby vampire's intentions since the very beginning.
The door creaked open, Stefan's head popping into the room.
"Bonnie's here," he announced. "But I feel inclined to warn you that she's in a mood, a little jetlagged maybe—what's that?"
Klaus refused to lift his gaze from the sacred items in his hands, terrified that they might be a cruel, wistful figment of his imagination and vanish should he even blink. "Tell the witch to prepare for a tracking or a locator spell, and then find Kol. Get Rebekah to assist him, but I want everything he has on binding rituals."
"Like, right now?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Ripper."
It had been eons since the younger Salvatore had been addressed as such, and the effect it had on him was immediate; the full blast from the past of his darkest days that he struggled to accept time and again tainting his aloof features. A flicker of pain and regret clouded his emerald orbs for a split second before he brusquely nodded.
"Roger that."
Bonnie's low chanting encompassed the lull in the room, her eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as the string of incantations spewed steadily from her lips. Spread out before her was a map of the east coast—assuming Esther hadn't left New York—with a drop of blood right in the center. Klaus kept his unwavering stare at the dark crimson spot, watching impatiently, practically commanding it to move.
"It's not working."
The flex of his fingers sounded almost too loud. "Explain."
"It's not working," she repeated, addressing the hybrid in a clipped tone, not the least bothered to hide her contempt to help the man. "Someone must've done an illusory cloaking spell of some kind on her."
"A disillusionment spell should counter that, right?" Kol piped up.
The pointed glare he received in return could probably set his precious crown of hair on fire. "I was getting to it actually, thanks," Bonnie gritted out through a faux saccharine grin, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Mirthful at her frigid reception, he retreated voluntarily to avoid a nasty bout of aneurysm that the witch no doubt was itching to give. "Just helping out."
Arms outstretched and palms hovering over the map, she uttered, "phasmatos oculacs."
A swirl of wind swept through the group, an indication of working magic, but Bonnie's frown deepened as the blob remained stubbornly motionless. "I can't override the spell. Whoever's hiding your friend, they're using some really powerful magic, possibly layers upon layers even."
"Try a vision-locator spell," Kol suggested.
Bonnie clicked her tongue, clearly agitated. With a roll of her eyes and a flick of her wrist, she set his ass on fire.
"Fucking son of a bitch!" the younger Mikaelson yelped, desperately swatting at the flames to extinguish it before Rebekah did the honors by dousing a vase full of water. The material had burned through, leaving his bare derriere scalded and on full display. "You witch!" he seethed.
"And don't you forget it."
Klaus, noticing that the situation could escalate into something ugly and unnecessary—not to mention messy—decided to play the adult and stepped in to ease his volatile little brother. Though he wouldn't completely object to Kol putting the witch in her place, a horde of irate spirits and ancestors wasn't something he had time to deal with. "Enough," he thundered. "I don't care what you do, Bonnie. Just. Find. Her."
Not one to be bossed around, she stood defiantly, chin raised with arms akimbo. "You know, Klaus, you never mentioned who this woman is. If I'm going to invade her mind, I need to know that she's not going to block or sever the link."
"I have reason to believe that she's expecting it."
Bonnie narrowed her gaze skeptically. "And you're sure of that?"
Sick of the mindless interrogation, Klaus slammed his fist down onto the table, feeling a tinge of satisfaction when he heard it crack. "I don't appreciate being questioned on my decisions, little witch. Surely the threats implied with the failure to do as I request was clear enough."
"That you'd dump my mother's burnt corpse at my door? Really?" she goaded, albeit foolishly.
His nostrils flared. "Don't test me."
"This isn't a game, Klaus!" Bonnie fumed. "Linking to somebody's mind is dangerous. A lot of things could go wrong, and I'm not about to risk frying my brains for a woman who's dumb enough to be with the likes of you—"
A crack and a thud rudely shut her up, as did the sight of Enzo—he'd been nothing but a quiet bystander—slumped on the floor with his neck snapped and hanging at an odd angle. Aghast by the callousness and appalling nonchalance when Klaus regarded her afterwards, she fought down the hex at the tip of her tongue and bestowed the hybrid with the dirtiest of glares instead.
"Consider that a warning."
"You're despicable," she hissed venomously.
He flashed to stand within inches of her nose, a ring of gold around his irises. "And you're running out of time. Don't mistake my hesitance for leniency; I won't extend such courtesy if you insist on being defiant, so before you decide to mouth off again, I would suggest you think again very carefully."
"Just do as he says, Bon," Stefan advised, wary of what else Klaus would do. "Please."
Refusing to back down and bow down to him like one of his obedient minions, she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, her piercing stare unrelenting. "Let's get one thing straight, Klaus: I'm not afraid of you. You can threaten me and my family all you want, but I don't take too kindly to being talked to as if I'm one of your sired hybrids. We both have much at stake. Leave my mother alone and I'll do this."
Seconds felt like long, solstice days.
The choking silence grew deafening, the fragile thread of tension hanging between them threatening to snap.
Eventually, he nodded.
"Very well."
With distrust still distinctly evident in her scowl, Bonnie turned to Stefan. "I need some salt and a candle."
"Please, allow me," Elijah volunteered, considering the Salvatore was a guest in his house. He was gone and back in a wink, setting the sticks of candles and a bowl of salt atop the map. "As requested, Ms. Bennett."
Not quite accustomed to interacting with the oldest Original, Bonnie felt the heat rise in her cheeks, slightly flustered and mildly impressed by his poise and composure. "Erm…that was quick," she stuttered, clearing her throat. "Thank you, Elijah."
"You're welcome," he cordially replied.
Taking a handful of salt in her grasp, the witch began murmuring under her breath while she drew a circle, fine grains trickling from her closed palm until there was nothing left, and then proceeded to repeat the process with eight more symbols. A candle was lit and her chants grew louder, eyelids falling shut.
"Et vocem meam hostium. Et vocem meam hostium."
Suddenly, she stopped.
"I'm connected, but she's barely conscious," Bonnie informed the group. "I can't see anything if she doesn't open her eyes."
"Are you able to communicate with her?"
"No, but I can send her a mental nudge of sorts."
Despite the fact that she couldn't see him, Klaus nodded his consent. "Do it."
Bonnie's forehead wrinkled as she focused a little harder, and then her eyes snapped open. "She's in a church, or a cathedral, I suppose," she reported. "High up, like a bell tower; one window. It's dark but there are candles lit around her…anywhere familiar?"
"That's not exactly narrowing it down, is it?" Rebekah groused. "There are thousands of churches and cathedrals all around the world. How on this bloody earth are we supposed to find which is the right one?"
"Well, isn't that what Nik's minions are for?" Kol reappeared with a new pair of un-burnt trousers. "Send them to scour the planet for places of worship that have been hijacked by revenge-seeking mothers?"
Arms folded across her chest, Rebekah released a frustrated sigh. "What is it with witches and bell towers, anyway? Is it some kind of gothic castle fetish? Because honestly, I would rather go with the underground lair—"
Elijah was the one to figure it out.
"It's the St. Louis Cathedral."
The historic town of Mostar, Bosnia had always held his fascination. Perhaps it was the fact that he had missed the reign of the Ottoman Empire because he had been on the run from Mikael, but as he stood on the Old Bridge, surrounded by Turkish houses from the Austro-Hungarian period, the serenity he hadn't felt in centuries settled in the hollow recesses of his soul. It was heady and liberating, especially after the less-than-appealing ordeal in Mystic Falls with the doppelgänger and her love triangle drama with the Salvatore brothers.
"You've kept your promise."
The vision of red in his periphery didn't surprise him anymore, the woman's presence now a welcomed constant in his life. She sidled closer, their shoulders bumping as her sweet musk encompassed his senses. Her company was a much-needed breath of fresh air, one that he felt compelled to bottle up and keep in his pocket.
"I am a man of my word, love."
She hummed. "Never said you weren't."
Beneath their feet, the river trickled in steady streams, tranquil in it's motion, though his trepidation stayed unwavering, even in the small reprieve she provided.
"What's on your mind, Klaus?"
He finally met her iridescent blue eyes. "Why won't you tell me your name?"
An easy smile stretched across her pink lips, ample breasts pushed up against his chest as she stepped up to rake her slim fingers through the short curls at the nape of his neck. "You know I can't."
His arms instinctively curled around her waist, tracing the tip of nose along her jawline. "Women and their secrets, eh?"
She hummed, one dexterous hand sliding between their pressed bodies. "Got to keep you on your toes, don't I?" she murmured before sensuously cupping the hardened bulge tenting in his pants and giving it a squeeze.
The jerk of his hips caused their pelvises to clash, simultaneous gasps of pleasure harmonizing in the quiet rural air. "You know, sweetheart," he drawled, a devilish spark in his gold-rimmed irises. Skimming his palms down the length of her spine, he brushed circles against the curve of her rear through the soft material of her dress and then slipped in to toy with the thin elastics of her thong. "I'm starting to think you're quite the exhibitionist."
Her responding grin was positively feral. "And what if I am?"
He dipped a digit past her slickened folds. "Then I say we give this town something to talk about, shall we?"
Their mouths collided; teeth clacking and tongues plundering, an accidental nip in their blind passion sent delicious blood coating down their throats, thick and sweet—hopelessly lost to the world but each other—until a gust of wind and the impact of his back slamming against a solid surface jolted him out of his lust-induced trance. He pulled away to take her in. Wild disheveled hair, eyes a predatory veil of vermilion and rimmed with black spider-like veins, swollen lips parted and smeared in crimson, razor-sharp fangs glinting in the sun; she was hauntingly perfect.
I can't help but love you
Even though I try not to
His thumb hovered, brushing gingerly to cradle her chin, wanting to savor every second of her like that.
"You need to stop staring."
Mesmerized, he hadn't notice her vampiric features morphing back into the stunning woman he had progressively come to care for in various regards. Her clear cerulean blue eyes assessed him, half amused and half intrigued. They were broaching on new territory; one where there was no definite path or direction.
"Apologies, love."
"Besides," she crooned, shoving him further up against the bark of the tree. "We still have some scandalizing to do."
I can't help but want you
I know that I'd die without you
She sunk to her knees, fingers deftly working on his fly, and he forgot all about the way he reckoned he might be falling for her.
"This isn't just about Mother, is it, Niklaus?"
The hybrid wondered what had given his older brother that impression—wondered if it was the sketch of the woman he had been meticulously working on for a close half an hour while Kol sought to replicate the page from the grimoire, or perhaps it was the fact that nothing ever escaped Elijah's hawk-like observations—but he would be damned if he allowed any of his siblings the satisfaction of seeing him cave to something as vulnerable as human emotions.
Keeping his gaze firmly on the page, Klaus chuckled darkly. "I'm not sure what you're implying, brother."
"This girl—this woman in the red coat—she means something to you."
His hand stilled, the stick of charcoal poised between his fingers. It wasn't a question but a matter-of-fact statement that had the hybrid finally lifting his head to meet his older sibling's eye. "She's a beneficial informant to me."
"Are you sure?"
Klaus arched an eyebrow pointedly and with a hint of a threat. "What are you trying to say, Elijah?"
"Do you have feelings for her?"
"She intrigues me."
A line appeared across Elijah's smooth forehead. "You know that's not what I mean."
"But that's all you're going to get."
The direct dismissal was neither lost nor well-received by his older brother, whose dent to his composure sparked a wave of frustration passing through his phlegmatic demeanor. No doubt he was gearing up for another lecture, but Kol's ostentatious arrival effectively thwarted his efforts, sparing him another attempt at deflection.
"I am a genius!" he crowed triumphantly, brandishing a folded piece of paper in one hand. "But wait, hold the applause dear brothers, because it gets better."
"And how, pray tell, is that so?"
"Always with a tone of skepticism, 'Lijah," the younger Original vampire sniffed, faking offense. "You know what; just for that, I think I'll keep the surprise to myself."
"Kol—"
Stefan's impeccable timing conveniently prevented another bout of bloodshed and snapped necks. "Hey, we'll need to leave soon if we want to get to the cathedral before the full moon hits its peak. I have no doubt that both Lillian and Esther have hybrids guarding the premise."
"Right, then," Klaus chirped with false cheerfulness as he set his sketchbook aside and jumped to his feet. "Shall we?"
It didn't take much to charge past the frenzied stream of newly-turned hybrids, and Klaus was sure that his family and their guests from Mystic Falls, as well as his own pack of hybrids, were more than capable of handling the mayhem surrounding the perimeters of the cathedral. With Kol covering his back, Klaus blurred up the flights of stairs towards the bell tower.
The door was already open, Esther standing regally in the middle of the small room with an unconscious baby vampire slumped limply by her feet as she grinned darkly at him across the space. His instincts cried out to simply grab her and go—the plan be damned—but he spied the trail of salt lining the threshold and growled, blue eyes maliciously flashing golden.
A boundary spell.
Lillian stepped out from the shadows, a scowl etched on her sharp features, alabaster flesh a stark contrast to her raven-colored hair. "Niklaus," she purred. "You kept your mother and I waiting, didn't you?"
"Let her go," he roared. "Your matters are with me."
Esther sauntered forward, stopping within an arm's length of him. "Au contraire, my dear son. I believe that you have something that I need. Hand it over and I'll return her safely to you."
Klaus struggled to keep his temper at bay. "And I should simply trust that you'd give me your word, mother? You've always loathed the monsters you've created out of your children. What's to say this isn't another attempt to end our lives?"
"You're an abomination, Niklaus," the revived Original Witch spat out scornfully, the words dripping of vermin. "An imbalance to nature that has caused much uproar on the Other Side. I need to restore the peace."
Always the same fucking dialogue.
Over a thousand years and his mother's vengeance still burned with the fury of a thousand suns. Always rock-solid with her agenda to mend her own mistakes; the idea that she was willing to sacrifice her own flesh and blood to attain absolute power in her afterlife opened a dark abyss long buried in his heart. It suffocated him, curled around his windpipe even though he didn't need to breathe as forbidden memories rushed to the surface, threatening to unravel his twisted sanity.
"You ransacked Kol's Playhouse for a page in one particular grimoire, didn't you?" Brandishing said piece of paper, he added, "well, mother, it's right here, but I fear I'm hesitant in entrusting it to you on the account that I'm curious as to why you want it so much."
Her deep, penetrating stare bore down into his, ripping through the black hole nestling in his gut, but he swallowed it down and struggled to hide the treacherous shiver running down his spine. The seconds ticked in slow motion, almost as if Esther was manipulating time itself.
"If you must know, it contains half of a binding spell," she calmly explained, surprising the hybrid with the truth. Lillian's eyes widened, mouth agape at the unsuspecting move, but Esther didn't seem fazed. If anything, her arrogance at the situation only doubled. "Not unlike the one I've placed on your werewolf side; only stronger. The hybrids I've created are just pawns—a way to gather all my children in a single place—while a boundary spell has been casted to trap vampires in the cathedral premises. Step two is a linking spell, logically to link the blood of all four of you, and thanks to Lillian here, I had no problems attaining Elena Gilbert's blood and lacing every food and water supply you had. Hybrids are convenient little things, aren't they? Their loyalties are so fleeting; it didn't take much to persuade them to my cause. All that's left after that, Niklaus, is to trap you in the Phoenix Stone."
How could the woman who'd given birth to her children hate them so much?
Klaus' rancor was blinding, ablaze and pounding in his ears, but everything else felt hollow and numb. "And since we're all linked, it would mean the demise of the rest of your offspring, wouldn't it?"
"Killing two birds—or should I say four—with one stone." She laughed cruelly then, celebrating on her clever wit. "And of course, that also means the death of everybody in your bloodlines; all those cockroaches running loose in the world. So, come now, Niklaus. Be a dear and hand the parchment over."
His stance shifted. "Not until you release her."
"Very well," Esther conceded with a bored sigh, gesturing for Lillian to bring the still-unconscious baby vampire over. "Not that it would matter much soon, anyway."
Klaus caught her listless body before she hit the ground, cradling her in his arms before he tossed the doctored replica of the page into the room, not caring where it landed, and hastily sped out of the cathedral where he reconvened with the rest of his siblings out in the courtyard. The massacre was a gruesome sight, butchered bodies of fallen hybrids littering the once-pristine garden now painted in dark crimson. Severed heads, torn limbs, dislodged hearts; nobody was spared.
"Did she buy it?" Kol asked as the group stared up the tiny window at the top of the bell tower.
Klaus felt the corner of his lips twitch. "I guess we'll find out in a bit, won't we?"
A piercing scream ripped through the night sky.
Gusts of wind howled, whipping everything in sight, haunting and unforgiving.
The Original hybrid nestled the blonde closed to his chest, shielding his precious cargo from the supernatural onslaught as another bone-chilling cry echoed across the city.
And then it stopped.
Head propped up on his elbow, Klaus glanced down at the woman in his bed; watched patiently as she stirred in her sleep, mumbling incoherently. She groaned, her nose wrinkling adorably, long lashes fluttering before they slowly blinked open to reveal those intriguing, bright baby blue eyes. Positively rumpled, flaxen curls splayed out on his pillow with only a thin sheet covering the rest of her naked flesh, he wondered if such an ethereal vision—such sheer radiance—was even possible.
"Good morning, love."
Still slightly groggy, she hummed, her lips stretching into a blissful smile. "A girl can definitely get used to this, Klaus."
Images from their numerous trysts danced in his mind, but this was the first time she was ever in his room, in his private space where only so few had ventured before. A primal part of him felt possessive over her, of how his scent enveloped every delicious inch of her, of how he didn't seem to want to let her go.
He needed to touch her—needed to feel her soft skin against the pads of his fingers—and unable to help himself, Klaus lifted his free hand and traced his knuckles down the curve of her shoulder, caressing down the side of her torso to brace his palm on swell of her hip.
"I didn't get the chance to thank you last night," he murmured. "And for everything else."
"You're welcome," she beamed. "Glad that you've managed to figure it out."
He squeezed her affectionately, still not quite used to the newfound intimacy between them. "Brilliant thing, by the way, keeping the page in the inseam of your coat and deliberately dropping it for Kol and Bekah to find," he smirked. "Leaving your vial of blood, though, that's a risky move."
She shrugged her shoulders. "I knew I could trust you."
To trust a beast was a dangerous thing, especially one such as he. Sifting through his vast knowledge, Klaus wondered what he had done to warrant that much faith in a baby vampire, given his propensity for causing mayhem wherever he went.
"And I'm curious to know why, love."
I can't help but be wrong in the dark
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts
She drew imaginary patterns across his bare chest. "I'm not sure. I just knew that you would do the right thing."
They lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence, both simply basking in the presence of the other before the universe caught up to them and they would once again be hurled into the craziness of their respective lives.
"I need to leave soon."
He darted his gaze away but the disappointment flashing through his features definitely hadn't been missed. A surge of selfishness tightened like a band around his ribcage, and he loathed the way the walls were closing in on him, even when he made no delusions that she would stay.
"Do I at least get a name this time?"
She kissed him sweetly, with just a bit of pressure and full of promises.
I can't help but want oceans to part
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts
"It's Caroline."
A/N: The end! This one took a bit more time only because there were so many elements to play from and I wanted to get them right. It's not perfect yet, I'm sure there are loopholes in the spells, whatever, but I did my best. A fun fact: 'Et vocem meam hostium' is a loose translation of Davina's Vision Locator Spell. Logically, I had to translate that into Latin for Bonnie—or a version of that at least. I altered certain things, like Esther's linking spell, etc. And if you're wondering what Kol altered in the duplicate of the blinding spell, well…I'm not exactly sure, but whatever he did, it worked. Let's leave it at that.
Song used: "War of Hearts" by Ruelle