For the King
« Everything is set. »
He turned away from the window, flashing her that easy smile all the Quarter had come to know.
« Good. Do your part, darling. »
Wordlessly, she stepped to the small table, turned dark altar, arranging the candles in a symbol all expression masters would recognize. Someone was about to die tonight.
« How will I know it worked ? » he whispered in her ear.
She answered softly.
« You'll feel the sirebond disappear. »
He insisted, the threat barely veiled in his voice.
« How, Layne ? »
She turned around.
« You'll feel it. » she deadpanned.
His hand went around her throat.
« If you're trying to doublecross me, you'll be sorry.
-I'm not. »
He searched her eyes.
« You better. I may not feel as magnanimous as I did last time. »
The young witch stood straighter.
« If we're talking threats, if I'm doublecrossing you, you're going to be dead too. »
He startled, then grinned.
« Fair enough. This is the witch I enjoy so much. Do your part. »
Layne nodded. In walking out the attic, he lifted a hand.
« See you on the other side, darling. » he greeted cheerfully.
She rolled her eyes then lit up all the candles in the room. She opened the window overviewing the street. Laughter chimed in from the New Orleans night only beginning. The crown had promised this would be one to remember and the crowd was gathering drawn in like bees to honey. Little did they know that most of the show was beginning just upstairs this unseeming, unnoticed little house on Bourbon street. Layne came back in front of the altar and took up one of the candles. The wax immediately turned black – she methodically turned three candles this way, putting them down in a triangle on the expression altar. Then she took a small vial, opening it carefully.
« Let the game begin. » she whispered.
Down in the Quarter, the party was going full swing. Kings and courts were gathered in this age of war. No one already knew what New Orleans was going to look like after it was all done. All hybrid and Original power, or much more overachieving vampire splendour ? And Marcel was late. His lackeys – as Klaus liked to think of them – were all over the place, but their lord and master, nowhere.
« Where is he ? »
Elijah lifted his glass, his eyes finding Sophie hidden among a crew of young humans brought in for the party.
« It's in motion, now. »
Klaus smirked.
« May the most powerful magic rule. »
Marcel's magic tracking system had gone rogue and into hiding, leaving New Orleans to their own device and Klaus absolutely free to use his gang of witches exactly as he pleased. But Marcel had found ressources of his own. Shields appearing out of nowhere, poisonous drinks he could ingest no harm done – he had powerful magic siding with him. But that night's plan was off the charts. If Marcel stepped in his own party, he was a dead man walking.
« Smile, darling. » he whispered to the beautiful woman on his arm.
She struggled.
« Sweetheart. » he deadpanned.
She glared at him.
« I know why he's entranced by you. You have such fire.
-I mean nothing.
-Caroline. No lies. Please. Don't sully your last hour. »
He stopped her on the stairs.
« I'm sorry you have to die. I'll make it quick. »
Caroline tried fighting him.
« And I'm being merciful. »
He forced her up the stairs. The curtain opened – move detector. The humans had some nice tricks up their sleeves.
« Good evening, New Orleans. »
The party slowed down, just as the crowd started cheering and applauding.
« See, they are my people. » he said softly.
He guided her forward to the end of the stage.
« Tonight is the night. »
Cheers and whistles sounded in the crowd over the music. Marcel laughed.
« My, my. Enough excitement. Let's get serious. Tonight's the night – we go back to one king. Tonight is the night we stop our intruders. And you all know that before you can catch one, you slow them down. »
Marcel turned to Caroline. He gave her a small smile.
Klaus was frozen.
« Brother... » Elijah tried.
-He won't dare. »
Marcel turned to the crowd.
« Meet Caroline. Klaus's precious beloved. Time to say goodbye. »
Caroline took a deep breath – she never finished it. The stake went straight in her heart – she collapsed, already graying, as Marcel dropped her.
« Things here are done my way. »
Klaus flashed to him, grabbing him by the throat.
"You're predictable...
-I can unsire you.
-Done. » Marcel replied, half choking. « Goodbye, Klaus. »
The stake went straight in his heart. Night ratio off the charts : not a single miss. And it was white oak.
« You fool.
-Did you not hear me before ? I'm not linked to you anymore. Witchy business », he explained smugly, before nailing it in : « I win. » just as his former sire's mind faded into black.
Up in the attic, Layne put out the last candle. In around one hour, most of New Orleans vampires – those sired by Marcel – would be dead along with their ultimate sire and the court would go back to the witches. She casually stood up, turning her back on the black altar and possibly the greatest vampire massacre in all history. Soon, all that was left was a little smoke over the blackest candle and the magic sign of witches drawn in blood on the ground.
XXX