1864 – ISOBEL'S POV
I awoke with a gasp, coughing and retching. My lungs expanded gratefully as I inhaled clean gulps of air. I was lying in the forest...what had happened? I could feel something crusty around my mouth, and I began to scrub it away, glancing down at my hands. My fingers were streaked with blood. I gasped, willing it to not be true. But it was...the sky was brighter...the green of the leaves were more defined and bold...I felt an unexplainable hunger gnawing at my stomach, and the light in the forest hurt my eyes. I felt one hundred times more scared...tears stung in my eyes, and my heart rate increased drastically. Oh my goodness...Katherine had tried to turn me into a vampire. I was in transition. If I didn't feed on human blood I would die. I let a dry sob escape my lips. I needed my best friend.
I didn't need to go far. As I approached my house (hoping in vain that no one would be home), I tapped tentatively on the front door. The door was thrown open forcefully, and Hannah stood there, her eyes wide with shock. She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside, shutting the door firmly behind her and locking it.
"Hannah?" I asked incredulously. "What are you doing here? Where's Isabella?"
"I left her with my mother," she explained, releasing my arm. "I just had a feeling that you might need me. And I was right. You're in transition. Who did this to you, Isobel?"
"How can you sound so calm?" I demanded. "I – I'm turning into one of them!"
"Who did this?" she continued evenly.
I explained to her about Katherine and Damon, feeling tears well in my eyes and spill over as I mentioned how he didn't love me anymore, and how Katherine had fed me her blood and killed me. Hannah watched me with sorrowful eyes, and held onto my hand comfortingly.
"I'm going to kill myself, Hannah," I said quietly, wiping my eyes. "I can't be a vampire."
"You're my best friend," she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I can't lose you. You don't have to kill yourself."
"I'll be your enemy," I reminded her. "You hate vampires."
"I could never hate you," she told me. "If you promise only to drink animal blood, and keep my family line alive, I will make you a daylight ring, and I'll give you my blood so you transition."
"I don't know, Hannah," I whispered.
"What about Damon, Isobel?" she asked softly. "If you were a vampire you could protect him from Katherine. She'll kill him, Isobel, don't you see that? She's using him to entertain herself; so she has someone to feed on."
"He loves her," I said brokenly.
"No, he doesn't. She's compelled him to love her; his feelings aren't real. But what he feels for you is real," Hannah explained.
I sighed, staring at my hands. If I became a vampire, I wouldn't be able to see my baby again. But I could leave her protected with Hannah. I could hold it together – I wouldn't become a killer. Hannah stood up and left the room. When she returned, she was holding a handkerchief to her bleeding hand, and a glass of blood.
"Drink this," she said gently, holding the glass under my nose. It smelled so tempting...it was the sweetest, most delicious liquid I'd ever smelled. Before I even thought about what I was doing, I took the glass in shaking hands. I tipped the blood into my mouth.
PRESENT DAY – ANILA'S POV
I knocked on Zayn's front door, after only a moment's hesitation, and waited. It was half past ten in the morning; so I was hoping I wasn't too early. Zayn opened the door, and smiled in surprise when he saw me.
"Hey, Anila," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh, came to see how Georgia was doing," I replied, momentarily dumbfounded and pleased after seeing how happy he was that I was there. "I know she went through hell last night, and I wanted to see if she was okay."
"Sure, come in," he held the door open for me, and I stepped inside. "She's just got up and in the shower, I think, but you can wait inside."
"Thank you," I smiled, following him into the living room. There were quite a few empty pots of noodles strewn on the couch, along with a crumpled packet of popcorn.
"Sorry," he muttered, embarrassed, quickly picking up the rubbish and hurrying it to the bin. "Do you want a drink, or anything?"
"No, thank you," I replied. He sat on the sofa, and after hesitating for a second, I smiled and sat next to him. "What exactly did you tell Georgia last night?"
"I told her all about vampires," he explained. "And werewolves. I think it scared her a little, but she handles weird stuff really well. I also told her about Klaus being both vampire and werewolf, and how Elena's missing Stefan because he joined Klaus to save his brother."
"Did you tell her about witches?" I asked.
"No," Zayn said quietly. "I was thinking you could tell her that."
"Me? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Who else better to tell her than a witch herself?" he grinned. "I mean, you were amazing, last night."
I blushed. "Thanks. I, er, I have an affinity for air."
"An affinity?" he asked curiously. "What's that mean?"
"It means I can call on air...and it'll respond to me without draining me of my energy. I draw energy from it in such a way that it's more powerful than any kind of witchcraft. It's quite rare for witches and warlocks to be born with affinities for elements, but I'm the child of the wind. It's what Anila means," I explained.
"That's awesome," he grinned, and I couldn't help but laugh. "You kicked ass last night with nothing but air."
I giggled. "Check this out. Take my hands."
I held both of my hands out, and not taking his eyes off me, he wrapped his warm, big hands around mine. Something about his stare made my knees feel weak, and my stomach fly with butterflies. I closed my eyes, and focused on drawing energy from him and the air around us. A gentle breeze picked up around us, lifting our hair and ruffling our clothes. I opened my eyes and stared into his, which were filled with awe. The wind grew stronger, and soon the curtains and papers were flying around us. I smiled and lowered our hands, still keeping a hold on his. The wind died down, leaving Zayn's tousled hair windswept. His eyes were lit up like a child's, and he was grinning.
"You're awesome," he murmured, leaning closer. I didn't stop him, and felt myself leaning forward too, not sure of what I was doing. Footsteps coming down the stairs had us releasing each other awkwardly, and looking away.
"Everything okay, guys?" Sara asked, tugging her jacket over her shoulders.
"Yeah," Zayn called back.
"I'm just heading off to meet some friends," she grinned at how close we were sitting. "Have fun."
GEORGIA'S POV
I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel first around my hair, then around my body. Sighing, I padded across to the mirror and wiped away the steam. My big, golden eyes stared back at me, with purple-ish bags beneath them. Great. Even a hot morning shower wouldn't mask my tiredness. I turned my head slightly, to expose the fading pink scar on my neck. Feeling a shiver ripple down my spine, I allowed my damp fingers to trace the crescent-shaped pink line. So much had changed in just a night. Zayn had told me everything...and my mind was reeling. I didn't understand why I was handling it so well; but, as Zayn had said, rather that than freaking out. I just wish it could have been my mother that had told me.
I quickly dressed into jeans and a checked shirt, dried my hair roughly with a towel, before fastening my vervain-filled locket around my neck. I didn't bother with makeup. It wasn't like I was going anywhere today; it was Saturday. I hurried downstairs and into the living room. To my surprise, Anila was sitting on the sofa next to Zayn. They seemed to be bickering about what to watch on television, as Zayn now held the remote high above her head while turning the channel to sumo-wrestling. I cleared my throat to announce my presence. Zayn dropped the remote in surprise, narrowly missing Anila's head, and catching the coffee table instead.
"Hey," he said brightly. "You're up."
"Hey, Georgia," Anila smiled.
"Hi," I replied, returning her smile. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," she said, standing up. "I know you went through crap last night...how are you doing?"
"I'm dealing," I sighed. "It's...a lot to take in."
She grinned. "It's weird, huh? But Zayn tells me you're pretty good with weird. Do you think you could handle another weird thing?"
"How weird?" I asked cautiously.
Zayn also grinned, standing up. "As in, you'll love it. It's a real pick-me-up."
"What's going on?" I enquired curiously.
"I'll show you," Anila smiled, and loosely grabbed my hand, tugging me out to the garden. "Come on."
I followed her suspiciously, unsure of where this was going. Zayn was also following. He tossed the back door keys to Anila, who unlocked the door. A cool breeze reached my body; raising goose bumps on my arms. The grass was littered with brightly coloured leaves, in all different shades of red, orange, yellow and brown. Autumn had always been my favourite season because of how colourful it was. I loved the warm tones of the leaves, and the feeling of the crisp crunch of them beneath my feet. Anila stood in the middle of the garden, smiling at me.
"I'm descended from the Salem witches, Georgia," she explained quietly. "I have extraordinary power, and I want to show you."
I stared at them both in shock. Witches? Okay, seriously, I'd dealt with vampires and werewolves, but now witches too? What the heck; anything in this town seemed possible. But witches...?
Anila raised her hands above the grass, and three sycamore leaves levitated off the ground. I watched in disbelief. There was no wind either...the only way this was possible was if –
"Are you doing this?" I whispered.
Anila smiled, nodding serenely. The sycamore leaves floated gently to the ground. As soon as they hit the grass, every single leaf levitated above the ground and floated in mid-air. It was beautiful. Anila closed her eyes, and then raised her arms high in the air. A huge gust of wind blew the leaves around us. They whirled and twirled around us; hundreds of sycamores all spinning in the air. I laughed, as I remembered what my dad used to call them: helicopter leaves. The wind died down, and the sycamores slowly returned to the ground, as Anila lowered her hands. I could feel tears welling in my eyes; perhaps because it had made me think of my dad. But it was so amazing.
"That was...epic," I giggled. It was the only word good enough to describe it.
Anila laughed in relief.
ELENA'S POV
I felt like someone had come along and ripped my heart out; my chest ached, the edges raw and tender. Stefan was alive, but he had run away from me. I knew it was wrong that he'd killed Andie...and nearly killed Georgia, but he'd seemed relieved enough that he hadn't killed her, right? And I knew this wasn't Stefan; this was what the blood made him do. I had to believe there was still hope for him. If I didn't have faith in him, who would? Sighing, I kicked off my covers and wrapped a blanket around me. It was now one o'clock in the afternoon, and I'd been in bed all morning. Caroline had already called me twice, but I hadn't returned her calls yet. Damon had tried to call me once, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone right now.
I shuffled out of my room and across the landing. The doorbell rang, and Jeremy hurried to answer it. I waited at the top of the stairs; hiding behind the wall. I didn't want to see anyone right now.
"Jeremy!" a familiar voice squealed, and I immediately let my blanket drop. It was Bonnie!
"Hey, Bonnie," Jeremy laughed, hugging her tightly.
I smiled and hurried downstairs. "Hey, Bonnie!" I joined the hug. The three of us stood there, laughing, with our arms wrapped around each other. For a moment, I forgot all about Stefan, and just lived in this moment with my brother and best friend.
Bonnie laughed and let go first; her hair slightly ruffled. "So, did I miss much? I mean, it's been a week. A lot can happen in a week."
Jeremy and I exchanged looks.
"You have no idea," I said grimly. "Come on, we'll explain everything."
We sat down in the living room, and explained to Bonnie everything from Anila arriving in town the day she left, Georgia arriving yesterday, and Stefan attacking her and running away.
Bonnie frowned. "So Stefan's lost his humanity now?"
"Not exactly," I replied uncomfortably. "He...he's struggling right now, but I want to help him."
"Elena, you can't help him," she said softly. "He's with Klaus, who can't know you're alive."
"But he came here, Bonnie, last night," I pointed out.
"Yeah, on Klaus' orders," Jeremy put in.
"You don't know that," I said quietly.
"He wouldn't come here unless Klaus knew about it. Stefan's not dumb, Elena. He's a vampire, which means he's smart," Bonnie argued, before closing the topic and changing the subject. "So Georgia's a Lokra like Zayn...I wonder if she has the family tree; I mean, Zayn's family don't have their family tree so we can't trace it back and see who founded Mystic Falls."
Jeremy shook his head. "No, she wouldn't know. Everything we told her was completely new to her; and even if she did have the family tree it would've been destroyed in the fire."
Bonnie sighed. "And Anila Rowan? You said she was a witch; I've heard of the Rowans. They're a very powerful, but small family. I reckon they were around in the 1800s, like Emily. And Anila's in on the town's secret, right?"
"Yeah, she helped us out last night with Stefan," Jeremy explained. "Maybe you could talk to her; she might know about her line of ancestors."
"Yeah, then maybe she'll know about the Lokra line," I suggested, only half-listening. My mind was only focused on one thing: Stefan.
GEORGIA'S POV
Later on in the afternoon after Anila had left, I'd settled into the sofa and started watching Glee (Aunt Sara had both box sets). Zayn was up in his room on the computer, apparently doing homework, but I could hear the blast of his music through the ceiling. A knock on the door had me pausing the DVD, and kicking the blankets off. I shuffled to the door and opened it. There was a delivery guy standing on the front porch holding a cardboard box.
"Are you Georgia Lokra?" he enquired.
"Yeah, that's me," I replied, surprised.
"There's a package here for you from Ohio," he said, handing me the box. "Sent from a Mrs Clara Figguns." My neighbour. Why would she be sending me packages?
"It also came with this letter," he said, handing me a white envelope. "You just need to sign the delivery form."
"Okay," I took his pen and signed the form. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, and I closed the door. I hurried upstairs to my room, clutching the box and the letter in my hands. When I got to my room, I set the box down on the bed and ripped open the letter first. It was a short, scribbled note from Mrs Figguns:
The police found this under the floorboards of your bedroom. It hasn't been opened or anything, but it's got your name on it, so I sent it to you.
Clara Figguns.
I placed the letter down, and turned to the box in confusion. I hadn't known about the box. Sitting on my bed, I tore off the duct tape that held the box closed. A cloud of dust billowed up and I coughed, waving it away. Stacked in the box were old hardcover books and boxes. There was also a note taped to the top box. I immediately recognised my mother's writing. Hands shaking, I tugged the note off the box and read through it.
Georgia, I wanted you to find this when the time is right. By now, I've told you about the vampires, and I'm not sure if you believe me or not. Maybe this will help. Your ancestor, Isobel Lokra, lived among the vampires in the 1800s. Her family has written things down, she has, and these journals and artefacts should give you all of the information you need. I love you, Georgia. It'll all be okay.
Love, Mom.
Isobel Lokra...everyone wanted to know who our ancestor was; Zayn had told me that they had no records of any Lokra in the 1800s, when the town had been founded.
"Zayn!" I called, hurrying out of my room and down the hall to his. I knocked on the door and waited.
"Yeah?" he opened the door.
"I – I think I've found something," I explained. "About our ancestor. Her name, at least. Isobel Lokra."
Zayn stared at me in surprise. "How do you know this?"
"I'll show you," I hurried back to my room; my cousin following me in confusion. I showed him the box and the letter from my mother.
"Oh my God," he exclaimed, staring at me in shock. "Have you looked through any of this yet?"
"Not yet," I replied. "Do you want to help?"
"Sure," he gestured to the box. "Take your pick first."
I picked up a small, thin book. I opened it up, and immediately knew what it was. "It's like a sketch book," I explained, turning the pages of the book. The first drawing was of a woman. The drawing was in black and white, but from it I gathered she had long, darkish hair and soft eyes. Her expression was calm and thoughtful. At the bottom of the page read the name, Hannah Rowan, 1862.
"Rowan?" Zayn said in surprise. "That's Anila's surname. You don't think she's her ancestor, do you?"
"If she was, she must have been a witch too, right?" I asked, turning the page again. I sucked in a shocked breath. "It's Damon!"
"What?" he leaned closer to scrutinise the drawing. "What the hell?"
The drawing was totally accurate; not to mention at the bottom of the page read the name, Damon Salvatore, 1862.
"Why would Damon not tell us he knew our ancestor?" Zayn demanded. "It doesn't make sense; he told us he had no idea who she was!"
"But if you think about it, Damon's the only one that would know!" I pointed out. "He was the only one that was around at the time, unless you count Stefan."
"Whenever we asked them they said they didn't know who the Lokra ancestor was," he said, perplexed. "Like they'd never met her. I just don't get why...we need to talk to Damon."
On the opposite page, was a sketching of a girl. She had long, curly dark hair and big, round eyes. At the bottom of the page read the name, Isobel Lokra, 1862.
"That's her," I whispered. "That's Isobel."
"She looks kind of like you," he commented.
I leaned closer, and realised he was right. "Hey, she's wearing my necklace!"
"The one your mom gave you?" he asked.
"Yeah, look, they're exactly the same," I told him, holding my locket up. "So that's where my mom got it from."
"So we know that Isobel was around in the 1800s, she wore a vervain necklace, and according to your mom she knew about the vampires, as it says in these books," Zayn said. "Potentially, Anila's ancestor was friends with her, and she knew Damon, who's told us he doesn't remember there being a Lokra founding family. That the Lokra family was nothing but a memory."
I sighed, closing the book. "I think we need to talk to the others."
"I do not know that person," Damon stated clearly, as he scrutinised the drawing one last time.
Half an hour later, Zayn had drove me, and the box full of Isobel's possessions, over to the Salvatore Boarding House, where Damon lived. Everyone was there. They were all curious about the Lokra ancestor. Anila and I had met Bonnie; Elena's best friend and a witch, who was dating Jeremy, Elena's brother. Wow. This was pretty complicated.
"Yeah, well she seems to have known you," Elena pointed out. "Look, for whatever reason you feel the need to lie about this for –"
"I'm not lying, Elena," he cut in. "I honestly do not have a clue in hell who that person is. Sure, I've slept with plenty of women, and not remembered their names the next day, but I didn't even know there was an Isobel Lokra around at that time, okay, no one did. Not until you found these old books, Georgia."
"Are you sure, Damon? Can't you try to remember?" I asked, looking up at him. Damon stared back at me, seemingly stricken. He closed his eyes.
DAMON'S POV
Her eyes struck me again, and I struggled to remember. Why did they mean something to me? In fact, why had this Isobel chick drawn a picture of me from the 1800s in her sketch book? I didn't even know the woman. The only woman I'd been obsessed with in that time period was Katherine, the evil vampire slut, who had screwed me and my brother around. Maybe I'd slept with Isobel, or something, and she'd got led on into drawing me. But I was a different person back then. I was human. I would have remembered. Why the hell didn't I remember anything?
1864 – ISOBEL'S POV
I watched from a distance as they rounded up the vampires. I felt an awful, but vengeful kind of glee when I watched them drag Katherine away. I should feel sympathetic, considering I was one of them now. But I felt nothing but relief, which I knew, was slightly hypocritical. It had been a month since I had turned. It was hard, but I was hanging onto my humanity like a life preserver. I only fed on the blood of animals, which was kind of hard considering I'd always been an animal lover. But rather that than killing mercilessly. What was even harder was dealing with my emotions, which had all been heightened. This meant my grief over Damon had now turned to agony, and my love for him had become more powerful. Hannah appeared beside me, watching the scene gravely.
"You shouldn't be here," she scolded quietly. "What if they discover you are one of them?"
"I...I wanted to make sure..." I began, unsure of how to explain myself.
"That Damon was alright?" she finished.
"Yes," I muttered sheepishly; glancing down at my feet.
I heard the firing of a gunshot, clear as if it had happened right next to me. I then heard Stefan's cry as he called Damon's name. Damon? Damon couldn't have been shot. Without even waiting for Hannah, I ran with vampire speed toward the sound of the shot. A second shot fired, and my stomach lurched. Stefan too? The scent of blood found my nostrils. Human blood. I followed the delicious, alluring scent, until I came to a clearing. Damon and Stefan were lying dead on the floor, blood seeping out of their chests.
"No," I whispered, hurrying to Damon's side. "No, Damon, no."
His eyes were closed peacefully. He merely could have been sleeping. But I knew better. Tears welled in my eyes, as my heart exploded in agony.
"Damon!" I sobbed. "Please! Please, Damon, wake up! Don't die. Don't leave me. I love you, Damon. Please don't leave me here. We have a baby, Damon. She's beautiful; her name's Isabella. You can't leave her fatherless...please, please, don't die. I love you."
I pressed my lips against his, trying to force a reaction out of his. "I love you," I repeated brokenly. "I love you."
