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Elijah flagrantly strides into Bonnie's bedroom without permission from the sleeping witch, an impropriety he would never lower himself to do, but with Marcel's henchmen on their lawn, now was not a time for etiquette.

"Did this Mama T betray you?" he asks Klaus who is tying the laces on his boots and bellowing to the maid in the hall holding a breakfast tray to bring him a clean shirt immediately.

"Surely she knows it would not be in her best interest to do so," Klaus responds, glancing over his shoulder at Bonnie who is wide awake and whose bright green eyes are fixed on him.

"What's wrong?" She asks him, genuinely concerned, stretching across the bed to rest her warm hand on his bare shoulder.

The intimate gesture is not overlooked by Elijah, and neither is the reaction of Klaus momentarily allowing her hand to rest on him before standing abruptly.

"We have company," Klaus says nonchalantly, motioning to the silver tray at the foot of the bed laden with toast, jam, fruit, eggs and fresh brewed coffee, "Eat." He orders.

"War is what you wanted and it has begun," Elijah whispers solemnly, curiously observing Bonnie dressed in Klaus's pajamas, her slender hands feverishly brushing her wild hair from her face, chewing on her bottom lip as she asks Klaus if there is anything she can do to help, and Klaus casting a mischievous smile at her and telling her he will need her help very soon, and the look of contentment that follows on Bonnie's face informs Elijah that Bonnie trusts Klaus, and that fact astounds him as he stares at the witch.

"Let us not be rude Elijah; we shall invite them in," Klaus says, breaking his brother's concentration from Bonnie.

Marissa scurries into the room holding a fresh, clean white button-down. "Marissa, show the guests at the door to the parlor," Klaus instructs.

"Do you think it is wise to invite Marcel's minions in our home?"

Rolling up the cuffs of each sleeve, Klaus impatiently huffs, "Marcel is only flexing his muscle. It is what I would have done," he says, stepping closer to his brother, out of Bonnie's earshot to continue, "But I would have begun with burning down the house and everyone in it." He beams proudly.

"Regretfully, Marcel does not have your savoir faire," Elijah says gently, "Are you prepared?" He asks Klaus, his brown eyes locked on his brother who is behaving like the oncoming war is the equivalent of a child's anticipation of Christmas.

"Who is Marcel?"

Both brothers look at each other and then at Bonnie who tosses the covers off of her body and pads over to the pair. She looks up at Klaus with big round eyes and asks, "Why does he want a war with you?" with such vehemence that Elijah is convinced that Klaus was smart in obtaining Bonnie from the dead for if the forcefulness in her tone is any indication of what she will do to anyone who threatens Klaus, then she will prove to be a formidable accessory for their family. And Elijah wonders how Klaus was able to gain her trust so expeditiously and how it contrasts with her visibly cringing in his presence, a reaction from a woman he is unaccustomed to because he is sure it has never happened before.

He hopes that her trust for his brother will be remembered in the imminent future.

"Marcel is the vampire King of New Orleans," Klaus answers Bonnie, knowing that he dropped a bomb on her and he is thoroughly entertained by the confusion in her eyes.

Bonnie's mouth falls open and quickly closes and Elijah offers her a tight smile.

"Vampire?" Bonnie says as if Klaus is joking, instantly seeing the cartoonish Count Chocula on the front of a cereal box and her with a spoon clinking against her cereal bowl as she slurped up the chocolate flavored milk.

"Yes, he is a vampire, so is Elijah, " Klaus explains casually, nodding to the polished original while buttoning the length of his shirt, "He is an original vampire at that," He boasts, patting his brother's shoulder, and then turning his full attention onto Bonnie, "But I am the hybrid. I reign supreme," He says, winking at the bewildered witch.

"Vampires aren't real," She snorts, suddenly wanting to talk with a faux Romanian accent and count peanut butter sandwiches. She grimaces at Klaus, scrunching her forehead and shaking her head like he's fucking with her, "Right?"

Klaus looks at Elijah and Elijah deeply sighs because his younger sibling is impetuous and loves a surprise attack and because he knows what he is going to do next.

The Original Hybrid runs a finger under Bonnie's chin, gripping it firmly between his fingers, and brusquely bares his fangs to prove his point, "I assure you love. We are real."

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The brothers enter into the grand parlor situated on the west side of the mansion, decorated in patterned blue silks and gold brocade and delicate French furniture, antiques acquired from a Monarch or three that had lost their heads.

And Claude announces their arrival to their guests, listing their titles and lineage, a bygone practice for a bygone time while Klaus is lost in replaying how Bonnie's pupils dilated at the sight of his fangs, and how she recoiled and how even when Elijah excused himself to give them a moment, and he had pulled her closer to him to get her to stop shuddering, how composed her voice was when she said, "I thought you said I could trust you?" And he had pressed his mouth on her hair, tasting her magic, and commanded her to stay upstairs.

On the powder blue chaise is a young brunette in frayed cut-off shorts, a tight black tank top stretched across her pert breasts. Her scuffed and dirty red combat boots are lounging on the four hundred year old table in front of her and she has a pout on her face like even if he or Elijah were to inform her of the pricelessness of the piece she wouldn't feel obliged to place her boots on the floor. And standing behind the young woman (who Klaus assumes is a witch by her very human heartbeat) are the menacing vampires in her tow. A bald brown-skinned vampire who looks like he was a bodyguard in his former life with his black t-shirt two sizes too small for the girth of his biceps, and on the other side of the chaise is a tall and lithe Japanese vamp, with long jet black hair tied into a knot on his crown. His fingers are bandaged in white tape like he had prepared for a boxing match that isn't going to happen, and he is dressed in skinny blue jeans and a yellow t shirt with the words, 'Happiness is a Positive Cash Flow' in red ironed on letters.

Klaus is invigorated by the intrusion of the rag-tag group and rubs his palms together with a smile, "Welcome to our home. Any friends of Marcel's are friends of ours. Would you care for anything?" He asks and sees the vamps look at each other considering the offering.

But the seated brunette, busy picking at the mosquito bites on her tanned legs, snorts and glances up at Klaus and Elijah and says, "You boys done fucked up, you know that?"

Klaus spies Elijah from his peripheral and he can feel his brother willing him to not impulsively tear the girls head from her body and drop kick it across the room.

A glass tumbler filled with vodka makes its way into his hand by the way of his brother who also passes drinks to the vamps and the brunette who doesn't even acknowledge Elijah and he dawdles with the drink until is forced to place the glass on the table by her feet.

"And this ain't no friendly calling. You think I wanna be here to see you at the crack of dawn with Black Dynamite and Bruce Lee?" She says, jerking her thumbs at the vamps to either side of her.

Klaus runs his tongue under his canines itching to elongate behind his close lipped smile. He pulls the period cream-colored chair from the other side of the room to sit directly across from the brunette. He crosses his legs and says, "I take you are not Davina," He says, venom dripping in each word while he sips his vodka.

"Mais non cher'," She laughs, "Anne-Marie Boudreaux is my name," She says, narrowing her beady dark brown eyes on Klaus, "Be glad you got me and not Davina, I can tell ya' want a shot and if she were here you would be as good as gone."

"Then let us not waste anymore of each other's time. Why are you here?"

"Marcel ax' me to pay you a visit," She says, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her shorts, "He sends his bottom witch to deal with the trash," She says like it was an honor. "We in ya' home cause Davina got a sign last night that a witch brought someone back into this world. Wasn't long before she pinned it was Ole Mama T, rest her soul."

Klaus lifts a brow, "Rest her soul?"

"He don't even know he fucked, ya'll," She says, looking over at her vamps shaking their heads in disapproval. "Yep, she's gone. I'm surprised you can't hear the whole ninth ward weepin' and hollerin' about it way over here," She says, shooting a glance at the floor to ceiling windows lining the front wall. "The other neighborhoods are quiet, and they'll be silent for nine days, but soon you'll hear them too."

"I am sorry to hear of Therese Guidry's death, "Klaus says, using the deceased witch's full name, "I do not think Marcel divulged that I was a personal friend of the Guidry family. I had been a family friend to the Guidry's for over several generations, so I am saddened by the news but I cannot see the correlation of her death and Marcel sending his cronies to my home."

Anne-Marie lazily rolls her eyes and says, "He sent me to see what ya' and Mama T brought back."

Klaus gulps the last of his vodka, "I have not brought back anything. I have not seen Therese Guidry since she was a ch..."

The third-string witch interrupts the hybrid, "Listen, I may have fallen out of my mama's pussy at night but it wasn't last night. We know ya' was working with Mama T, and that Mama T resurrected a being. Ain't too many witches can bring a life back, and even less got the power to do it and live another day. So for that ol' witch to give up her own life to do just that, then I hope it's 'cause you convinced her to bring back Jesus himself and it's not 'cause ya' strong-armed her to bring back some two-bit ass witch to battle with Marcel, 'cause that will be very bad for ya', mon ami'," She says and the parlor doors behind him instantaneously fling open, "I pray what you got is that bastard from Nazareth hidden in this house 'cause everyone looked up to Mama T, even me."

Klaus wants to feel her pulsating heart in his hands. He has been in the presence of witches most of his existence and he can gauge power. He can measure how far it radiates from their pores, how the air sparks around them, and the intensity of the smell of magic on their person. And Anne-Marie definitely reeks of magic, along with swamp water and tanning oil, but all it takes is one distracted moment from her and he could have her heart in his palm in the blink of an eye.

The witch upstairs would be that exact distraction.

He relishes in this thought. "Elijah, "Klaus says, beaming a fiendish smile at Anne-Marie, "Bring me Bonnie."

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Freshly showered and clothed in a borrowed Kelly green dress with the straps tied into cute, neat bows on each smooth caramel shoulder was Bonnie, standing out on the balcony overlooking the back lawn: the imported Italian marble fountain of Venus and the intricate labyrinth of shrubbery, and hedges shaped into images of Lions at the entry.

"We need you downstairs."

She bends on the black painted railing, her chin meeting the heated metal, "I don't like you," She says, not bothering to turn around to address Elijah who happens to notice with her bent over in such a way that her dress rises ever so slightly.

"I know there is a good reason why I don't even though I can't remember it," She says, standing up to every bit of five feet and three inches, looking past the decadent fountain and the elaborate shrubbery to the ivy-filled gates separating the estate from the streets of New Orleans.

"You know I don't like you, don't you?"

"Yes."

New Orleans was calling her.

"And you knew that last night but you still stood in this room and said you would like very much to be my friend."

"Because it is the truth, I want us to be friends."

She spins around and the skirt of the dress melds to the outline of her curves, "Then if you wanna be my friend, next time you know something big, like you drink blood and can live forever, then I expect you to tell me. That's the only way my dislike for you will be chipped away," She spits, pointing a finger in his face, "Do we understand each other?"

He nods thrown by her candidness and her obvious hurt.

"My deepest apologi-"

She sidesteps him, "Try Harder." She says as she passes him for the stairs.

Author's Note

Ya'll are awesome. Thanks for the get wells'.