Cut me down
But it's you who'll have further to fall
Ghost town and haunted love
Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones
I'm talking loud not saying much


"What are you even wearing, Nik?" Rebekah scrunched her nose in distaste at the white shirt and sweatpants ensemble her brother had entered in, before holding up a hand to stop him from answering. "You know on second thought I really do not want to know anything about what may have occurred between you and that cheerleader." The less she knew about her brother's relationships the better. Not that he had ever even had any real relationships before, but Rebekah really didn't want to contemplate what he must have been doing with Caroline for him to return home in such a tragic ensemble.

"I take it your charms didn't quite do the trick on our old friend," Klaus mocked, and she detested the smirk he wore, that damn twinkle in his eyes that told her he was having a go at her. She hated when he was like this, disregarding her feelings and trying to prove to her again that she had a lousy choice in men. Did he think she didn't know that her relationships usually ended in flames-sometimes literally?

"I didn't need them," she replied, trying not to rise to his obvious bait. It was hard, every ounce of her being wanting to lash back at him, to hurt him as he so carelessly did her, but she didn't want to fight just then. Not with what had happened. What she had seen and learned was more important than the current row they were engaged in. "It seems he has someone working for him, a girl. I don't think she's older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, possibly even as young as fourteen." Age was harder to determine sometimes after all the years she'd lived in a box. Even though she had been out for nearly a year there was still so much she was getting used to. "Powerful little thing though. Able to nearly vanish into thin air with Marcel, leaving no trace behind of where they went. And you know the nasty little trick most witches use to cause the little aneurisms bursting in our heads? She can do the same, but multiply it by thirty and you might realize how much it hurt."

Klaus arched a brow at that information, taunting done with for the moment. He sat down on the couch across from Rebekah, listening carefully as he tried to put the pieces together. "So Marcel has a witch on his side?"

"I don't know what she is," Rebekah shook her head, frowning as she remembered her conversation that had followed with the witches. "They're afraid of her though, the witches. Afraid and something else. I think they need her." She frowned, looking off into the distance as she contemplated what had been said at the meeting. "But I don't know why. And they didn't call her a witch. They simply referred to her by name. Davina. Which is something they didn't do about anyone else. You're the Hybrid or Klaus. Marcel is his own name or the Vampire King." It shouldn't have amused her how her brother snarled at that comment. So typical.

"So you're having your own little conversations with the witches now?" Klaus demanded, and she didn't appreciate the tone. Rebekah could almost see the wheels turning in his head, leaving little ripples about betrayal throughout.

"Sophie found me after my run in with Davina and wanted to talk. I figured you would want to know what it was they wanted to say to me," Rebekah informed him, not willing to play along with his paranoid behavior. Frankly she was tired of it. One thousand years and she had been the only one to stay with him through everything. The one who forgave him time and time again for each dagger, each killed boyfriend, and each life ruined. Shouldn't that have earned her some trust on his behalf? "He said something, when he had the girl bringing me to my knees. This is his town and he wants us out. I don't think he believes you're playing nice at all."

"I'll enjoy taking everything away from him and watching him die as a nobody," Klaus mused, and Rebekah glanced over at her brother, rolling her eyes at his sickening grin. She could only imagine the thoughts happening in his mind. None of them would be pleasant. At least not for Marcel.

"Anyway, you do know he's quite infatuated with that bartender, don't you? Cassie? Carol?" She hadn't bothered to learn the woman's name, but it seemed as though it might be a good idea to do so.

"Camille. And yes, I'm quite aware of Marcel's little weakness." Klaus narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at her. "Stay away from her, Rebekah. I already have plans for that one."

She huffed at that, annoyed she wouldn't be allowed to use the woman in her own schemes to make Marcel pay for what had happened between them all those years back. "And what of me? What is it you need me to do?" she asked, pretending to study her nails.

"Don't worry, dear sister, I'm sure you'll prove yourself useful," Klaus murmured, and she turned to glare at him, but her look softened a bit when she noticed the look he directed at her didn't have as much bite as it should have if he was being mean. "Now, I'm in need of a meal and a hot bath, preferably in that order. So don't wait up." He headed toward the doorway, pausing when he was in front of her. "Why don't you go and get some rest?" He bent down, kissing the crown of her head.

Rebekah smiled at the gesture. The two of them hadn't patched things up yet and it would take quite some time for them to ever get back to what they had been, but perhaps they were going in the right direction. Or perhaps seeing Caroline had distracted Klaus enough from his own nonsense to act a little more reasonable. Wouldn't that be curious if it was true? Maybe she should start looking a little more closely at his burgeoning relationship with the cheerleader.

"Wouldn't want you to waste away to nothing when you're still quite useful," Klaus continued, and she chucked the pillow beside her at his head as he headed out of the house.

Or maybe she had been wrong and he was still the same old fool of a brother. Only time would tell.


"Just once could she have owned like something small? Without all this ornate opulence?" Caroline breathed out as she pulled the car onto the side of the Garden District mansion. "Like really, what's wrong with a loft? Or a...I dunno. Small?" It wasn't as though her great grandmother would have been filling all of the extra rooms with people. Caroline wondered how sad that must have been, to live in such a gigantic place and never hear anything but the sound of your own voice, your own footsteps. Even when her mother and she had been in the tumultuous stage of their relationship, with rarely ever seeing one another, there had always been life to the house. Caroline never sensed life when she entered the new buildings her great grandmother had owned.

"It's yours now," Caleb reminded, tapping his fingers against the dashboard. Caroline had long since learned it was one of his nervous tells and she couldn't blame him. They were in the lion's den now and they both knew there would be no turning back.

She rolled her eyes at him before glancing in the rearview mirror to check in on Patrick. He caught her gaze in the mirror, doing that annoying little bow of the head thing he'd picked up ever since coming back undead...again. Caroline understood that he was grateful, but the way he would immediately do anything she asked of him or take her side right away after she made suggestions was disconcerting. It reminded her too much of the Sire bond and she really hoped that wasn't what had happened. "Patrick, can you go take a look around outside?" she suggested, watching as he eagerly unbuckled his seatbelt and vanished from the car to set about accomplishing the task.

"Okay, I'm not the only one finding that to be a little creepy, right?" Caleb murmured, looking over at her and Caroline pressed her forehead to the steering wheel.

"No," she groaned, but it wasn't something to focus on at the moment. She'd figure it out and snap Patrick out of his all too helpful trance.

"I bet this place has an Indian feel to it," Caleb wagered, trying to break the dower mood that had come over her. "Maybe Persian."

"Nope. French all the way. Though I bet there's a lot of stuff that's from around here. Cajun and Creole or whichever it is…" Caroline didn't quite know the distinction between the two. She had a feeling her great grandmother had though. "Mr. Tremble did say she used to live here back in the 1900s." Which if Caroline remembered correctly had been when the Originals were also in New Orleans. It would have been just too much to hope that their paths had never crossed.

"You're on. I wonder if this place has cable," Caleb murmured as he got out of the car and headed toward the house.

Caroline took a deep breath, watching him walk away, glancing over to see Patrick take up a position where he could see whoever might approach the house from the front. She exited the car and stopped after walking a few feet. A feeling of unease washed over her, soaking her to the bone with coldness. She didn't spin around, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead she faked dropping her keys so she could turn and survey a little more discreetly. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just some people walking by, not even bothering to look her way as they animatedly chatted about where they were going for lunch.

She rolled her eyes at herself as she rose, chalking up the sensation to the paranoia that was already trying to consume her and headed toward Caleb to find out which of them would win the wager on how the current house would be decorated.

Twenty minutes later and it turned out neither of them were right, the house being decorated with items and paintings from what they had discovered was Russia after some googling on their parts. The sinking feeling in Caroline's stomach also hadn't gone away. If anything it had intensified, but she ignored it for the moment, leaving Caleb to call his mother and instructing Patrick to go compel them some blood bags from somewhere local.

Caroline headed to the master bedroom, following the instructions Mr. Tremble had given her. He'd said it was imperative that she retrieve something from there, a necklace that had belonged to Valencia, had belonged to all of the harbingers for their length of servitude and that it was something she would need to have as well. Caroline had wondered why the hell her great grandmother hadn't simply given it to her when she'd been informed she was something different.

"Because Valencia hadn't stepped foot in New Orleans since 1919. I don't know precisely what happened back then, but she always said it was her greatest failing," Mr. Tremble had told her before they had left Atlanta. "She hadn't been wearing the necklace when she left and I never understood why she didn't return for it considering she had always worn it before then, but she steadfastly refused to ever to set foot in that city again. And not just because she didn't have the powers as she used to, not just because of your birth. There was something else, but she never told me what. It was only a few months ago that she informed me of where it was and told me to pass the message along to you."

Lifting the floorboard in the closet, Caroline rooted around before she touched cloth and drew out the satchel that had been stuffed in the corner. She opened the bag, letting what was inside clatter to her lap. It was a pendant with one larger circle that had three interconnecting ones in the middle of it, but when she studied it closer, Caroline decided instead of circles they were actually three crescent shapes interlocking in a way that made them appear like complete circles, surrounded by tiny blue jewels on the circumference of the larger circle. Caroline felt like she had seen it before somewhere, but couldn't for the life of her remember where.

"It's a Valknutr. Norse for the slain warriors knot or something like that," Caleb said, and she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway. "But I'm sure you see it's not actually triangles-which if it was a true Valknutr-is what you would see. Instead its crescent moons because while the Valknutr speaks for Odin, the lunar ones speak for Freyja."

Caroline scrunched her nose in annoyance. Apparently this was something she should be familiar with, but she was at a loss. "Yeah, I'm not really clear on who any of those people are except Odin. Thor's dad, sort of Loki's but not really, and I only know that because Tyler made me watch Avengers once. But I'm guessing we're not talking about that Odin."

"Well, we sort of are. Norse mythology, which is what Marvel took Thor and Loki and the rest from for their comics-and okay, the movies were pretty good, but if you really want to read some decent…" He trailed off at Caroline's arched brow. "Right. Not the time to recommend comics. Got it. So Norse mythology. Odin is like the major god of that one. But Freyja was one of the goddesses, actually taught Odin his magic. She's the goddess of love, fertility, battle and death."

Caroline nodded along, trying to figure out exactly what any of that had to do with her or why the symbol was so important, but thankfully Caleb kept explaining. "There are two theories on how harbingers came to pass. One is that she created them or you know blessed someone with the powers to do it and it just kind of carried on in the gene pool. The other is that she actually gave birth to the first."

"Right, because my great great great great great great great however many greats I need here grandmother is a Norse goddess." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the implication.

"And vampires and werewolves are just creatures people made up to scare kids into behaving," Caleb pointed out, and she stuck her tongue out at him, not wanting to have this conversation. It was hard enough to comprehend it all without the added implication of gods and goddesses being thrown in the mix. "They're all theories anyway. Who knows what's the truth anymore. It happened forever and a day ago. But see what happens when you actually touch it because that's actually the important part."

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him, convinced he knew something would happen, but all he did was smile that annoying 'I dare you' grin of his. She brushed her fingers along the surface of it, sucking in a breath as her body immediately started to glow, the lights in the closet and bedroom turning on before each light bulb shattered. Caroline snatched her hand away. "It amplifies what you can do," Caleb said, holding out the bag. "You'll eventually have enough control where you can wear it always without causing any freak-outs, but probably not yet."

He picked the necklace up from where it had fallen to the floor and dropped it inside the bag before handing it over. "Might want to keep it handy though."

There was an unspoken 'never know when you might need it' that passed between them as she stuffed the bag into her pocket. "Guess we should see what else might be useful in this place while we wait for Patrick to return," Caroline pointed out, hoping they would find some clues about really anything at that point.

"I'll start with the attic," Caleb told her, shrugging at her curious look. "The most interesting things are always discarded in the attic."


Graveyards were sacred grounds in New Orleans and that meant Rebekah couldn't pass into one without an invite. It also seemed that an invite only extended for the day it was first given considering she had been in the very same graveyard not even a day before, but could no longer cross the threshold. It had always been that way in the city, even back when they had freely moved throughout; the letter M's that dotted the architecture here and there known for the Mikaelson clan. Not as it was now. Marcel had claimed them all as his own and it seemed there were none alive who knew the truth. Aside from the Original family, Rebekah had noticed that Marcel was the oldest vampire in the city. She also theorized that he was older than all the witches present as well. Which was peculiar considering if anywhere had the means to extend life it was in the city where voodoo and hoodoo and all manners of magic prevailed. Or used to prevail.

Aside from the magic that surrounded the cemeteries, it seemed magic truly had been nearly stripped away from the city that had once thrived on it. Sophie stepped out of the shadows of one of the nearer mausoleums, scanning the area around Rebekah before nodding. That seemed to be all that was needed for Rebekah to be able to cross. "You shouldn't be here," Sophie hissed, urging her to follow her further into the graveyard and away from prying ears.

Rebekah supposed it did make sense that magic would still flow uninterrupted in the graveyard. After all, the source of New Orleans witches' power was from their ancestors and the grounds were literally littered with them. "But she couldn't stay away, could you, child?" an older woman asked, stepping out from behind another mausoleum and Rebekah wondered exactly how many witches were nearby. "Claire Laveau." She extended a hand, and Rebekah raised a brow at the name.

"Related to Marie Laveau?" she asked, remembering the other woman almost fondly not surprised at all that the woman nodded confirmation. It was then that she saw the Gris Gris tucked into the woman's shirt. Rebekah wondered if the woman practiced the same magic as her ancestor did and how she compared to her in abilities and knowledge. "I take it she would be your great great great or possible great great great great grandmother?"

"Second one. And you knew her?" Claire asked, as they walked toward the mausoleum that seemed to be where meetings were held. Though from the way the woman asked, Rebekah had a feeling the woman already knew the answer.

"Quite well actually. I told her a few of the old spells I remembered from my childhood." Back before her family had been turned. Back when Rebekah had thought her mother truly did love them all, when she too had been connected to the Earth. Not to the degree her mother had been, but she had known magic for a good many years before it had been stripped away from her. All of her siblings had, but none quite like she'd been able to. Mostly because Mikael had forbidden her brothers to partake in any lessons from her mother or Ayana.

"You learned them from your mother?" Claire asked, and Rebekah watched as the old woman eased herself down onto one the marble stones, obviously pained from the short walk. She would have made such easy prey to the nightwalkers that roamed the streets at night. Did they even know the history that coursed through the woman's veins? Rebekah doubted it. Most didn't seem to be older than at most half a century, the majority seeming to be about a decade old or younger.

"Yes." Rebekah had no desire to continue that particular line of questioning. The less she thought about her mother the less chance there was of her decapitating someone out of frustration and anger. "I didn't come here to talk about her. I came to find out who convinced you that a baby would be something to bind my brother to you and your foolish plans. Surely you've realized by now that you have been grievously played and he doesn't care one iota for the child in that werewolf's belly."

But a part of her did. That part that had yearned to be human and had that whim so roughly stolen from her by Niklaus. Not enough to fight for it yet, still not convinced Elijah and Klaus hadn't been hearing things when the witches had provided "proof" of the girl's pregnancy.

"All the pieces of the puzzle are settling in and even we cannot fully see the big picture," Claire stated, eyes rolling to the back of her head, only the whites showing as she started to convulse. She would have hit her head on the stone if Rebekah hadn't moved, catching and lowering the woman to the ground as Sophie rushed to her the woman's side to help.

"She's having a seizure," Sophie started, and Rebekah snorted at the woman's audacity to even attempt a lie.

As if she hadn't seen such things happen before. "She's having a vision. Really, you little insignificant girl. You think I know nothing of witches and their powers when I was raised by two of the most powerful witches in history?" Rebekah scoffed, waiting to see what the older woman would say once the shaking had ceased. It probably wasn't supposed to amuse her so much that Sophie shook a little herself, trying to hold up that false bravado she seemed to always carry about her, but that was surely coming undone.

"She's here," Claire spoke, her voice an octave lower than it had been as she suddenly stopped shaking, her entire body going rigid. "The Harbinger has returned and no injustice shall go unnoticed in her wake. Death follows many while life flows through. Bonds that were once strong shall fall asunder and new ones shall rise and take bloom."

Claire's body shook one last time before it relaxed completely, the woman's eyes closing and breathing going shallow. Rebekah barely noticed it, her eyes having narrowed as soon as the woman had begun speaking. "What the hell is that bitch doing back in this town?" she growled, looking down at the passed out woman in disgust. "I look forward to Nik ripping her to shreds after how she so easily betrayed us." Even if it wouldn't kill the damn woman, it would hurt and after all the pain they had endured nearly one hundred years ago the woman deserved nothing less.

Sophie seemed frozen in her spot, and Rebekah turned a watchful eye on her, trying to assess what was going through the witch's mind. "How do you know about the Harbinger?" she demanded, grabbing Sophie by the throat and slamming her into the wall. "She can't be coming back here. Surely you know that much. Or did no one tell you she cursed herself from ever stepping foot in this repulsive city again because she backed out on her word. Something a harbinger can never do. Not without dire consequences." She squeezed harder, watching the life choke out of the woman, but thought better of it and let her slide to the ground, gasping for breath, and Rebekah slammed Sophie's head into the wall, effectively knocking her out.

Something told Rebekah that the situation was just getting interesting and she meant to stick around for a while to see what dear old Claire might be able to tell her once she woke up.


"Are you following me?" Klaus asked, keeping his voice light with an air of teasing as he sat down in the booth across from Camille. The woman looked up from the stack of books she was perusing through, clearly startled to see him there. "I just so happen to visit this little cafe every so often. They make a remarkable pomegranate tea. Have you had it?"

"Can't say I've ever really been fond of pomegranates." She smiled at him, half closing the book she had been reading, using her hand as a bookmark. "Too much work for such little offering."

"Ah, but then who doesn't enjoy a good challenge now and again?" he mused, eyebrows arching slightly as he leaned back against the booth. He noted that Marcel had just walked in, watched the other man freeze for a moment, no doubt startled to see him there, before putting back up his jovial facade as he headed toward the table. Klaus paid him no mind, acting as though he hadn't seen him. "Let me guess, you're more of an orange girl."

"Something like that." Camille continued to smile, though he watched the way it brightened considerably when Marcel stopped at the table. She cocked her head toward Klaus, raising a brow. "Are you sure it's not me who's being followed?"

Klaus laughed at the question. Oh you have no idea. He'd noticed the nightwalkers that had been assigned to watch over her, no doubt told if anything happened to her they would meet most gruesome ends. Had the fool learned nothing from him? You did not flaunt your weaknesses so easily. Though perhaps Marcel had grown cocky, believing himself too powerful to be brought down by a mere girl he was so obviously infatuated with.

The barista chose that moment to bring over his cup of tea, greeting him by name, and Klaus thanked the girl before raising it up for Camille to see. "As I said. I enjoy the tea." He watched her nod in assent, before the two of them turned their attention to his old friend. "But what brings you round here, mate?"

"Was walking by and saw two of my favorite people in the same place." Marcel slid onto the booth beside Klaus, angling himself so he could focus on Camille. "Why miss such an excellent opportunity for some worthwhile conversation?"

"As opposed to the kind you usually receive from your...companions?" Klaus asked, his lips curving into a smile that he nearly covered by drinking the tea, but he knew they would both be able to see it. He had to give Marcel credit though; the boy didn't even rankle a little at the question. Though it seemed the little bartender was blushing.

"Think you've gotten me mistaken for you, old friend," Marcel replied, flashing his teeth in a broad smile. "You should have seen what he and I used to get up to back when Klaus and I first met."

"Oh, I doubt Cami wants to be bored listening about our innocent little romps," Klaus murmured, the smirk on his face clearly indicating they had been anything but innocent. He could see the war on Camille's face, that curiosity to know what they were referring to while also trying to remain polite. "After all, she did come here to study, didn't you, love?"

He nodded to the books scattered on her side of the table, the hand tucked into the one she had been reading. "It's fine. I could probably do with a study break." She glanced over at the clock hanging on the far wall. "I've been at it for about...two hours…"

"What is it you're studying?" Marcel asked, seemingly eager to know the answer and Klaus half listened to the conversation happening before him. He nodded at the appropriate times, gave noncommittal answers here and there, but it was Marcel's body language that he was most interested in. He needed to know for sure if the man was playing him on his feelings for the woman across the table. If he was then using her would be a waste, but if he wasn't then oh the fun was only just beginning.

Twenty minutes in and Klaus knew Marcel wasn't feigning interest. No, his earlier assessment had been correct as was Rebekah's. Marcel had real feelings for the girl. It was hard to pull off truly listening to what someone was saying when you didn't care about what they said. But Marcel sat enraptured at everything coming out of Camille's mouth, laughing at right and wrong intervals. Which Klaus had always thought was key. It was those who laughed only at the right ones who didn't truly care, that faked an interest. They went about trying to make everything look perfect, but no relationship was ever like that.

His mind was ablaze with new plans, plotting out exactly how to twist what he saw forming before him into something to help him defeat his old friend. None would work out well for the girl, but she was of little consequence to Klaus. Good conversation didn't outweigh defeating the friend who had betrayed him and taken what rightfully belonged to him.

All playful pretenses were dropped though when one of Marcel's inner circle members entered the cafe, clearly glancing around for his master before nodding to the exit once he caught Marcel's gaze. "Seems time has gotten away with me," Marcel told them, flashing a charming grin at Camille. "Not that I'm surprised by that considering the company."

"Careful now, old friend, or you'll make me blush," Klaus chided, not even bothering to hide his smirk. He quite enjoyed the small frown from Marcel when the girl laughed.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" Marcel continued, only rising once Cami nodded her assent, and then slipped out onto the street. Klaus pretended to pay attention to what the woman was saying to him, but his focus was a few feet away, tuning into whatever the lackey had deemed urgent enough to warrant interrupting his master's plans.

"...old house has activity," the vampire-Oliver? Ollie? Something like that-continued, a little too animatedly. "Gregory said he saw three there. A woman and two males. Looked like they were settling in to stay."

"And you're certain it was that one?" Marcel urged, and then seemed to think better of having the conversation there. No doubt he was glancing over in Klaus and Cami's direction, but Klaus made sure to keep his demeanor relaxed and his gaze on the bartender.

He knew the two had moved a significant ways away, but unfortunately for Marcel, Klaus' hearing was even better than that of a normal vampire, or even of his siblings. Hybrid trait that he took full advantage of when needed. He only needed to hear one word to rise from his seat and make excuses to Camille before he slipped away into the night.

Harbinger.

It couldn't be. Valencia Valdez was a fool, but she wasn't suicidal. She knew what he would do if she ever stepped foot in his presence again. Not to mention she shouldn't have physically been able to step foot into the city limits. Not after what had happened nearly one hundred years ago. Klaus easily moved through the city, making sure to stay far enough behind Marcel and the other vampire so they wouldn't spot him.

Sure enough they stopped in front of the house that had belonged to the traitorous bitch, but whatever signs of life the Daywalker had seen were gone. Klaus could hear Marcel berating the man for a false lead, issuing all sorts of punishments as they stopped outside the lawn of the aging building. They couldn't enter. No vampire could without invitation, no matter what became of the owner. Klaus surveyed the grounds from afar, narrowing his eyes when he spotted the fresh tracks near the flower bed. It could always have been from some tourists, a local venturing near it to see what old mysteries the place might hold, but there was a pattern to the prints. One that reminded him of someone standing guard, of monitoring the area for threats.

Someone had been there and whether or not it meant the woman was back or not, Klaus knew he wouldn't get any rest that night. No. He'd put the Harbinger and her betrayal out of his mind years ago, content with letting her hideaway from him in fear. She wouldn't live forever, that he knew. None of them ever did. And if he couldn't exact his revenge on the one who wronged him and his family then he would simply carry it out on the next in line.

After all, he was a big fan of the 'an eye for an eye' philosophy. Seemed it was time for him to put out feelers again for Valencia and her lineage. Heaven help whoever was doomed to carry on her legacy.


"We could have stayed at the hole in the wall place like four streets over for a quarter of the price," Caleb started, dropping his bag onto the floor and glancing over at Caroline. She was currently on the phone with her mother and rolled her eyes, though he wasn't sure if it was at him or because of the current conversation. Probably both. He also knew there was little use in pointing out things like money. He had seen Caroline go between being exceedingly frugal with what they did to not having a care in the world. He had a feeling it was a coping mechanism.

"I'm fine, mom," Caroline reiterated, plopping down on the bed, amused at the amount of bounce it had. She eyed Patrick out of the corner of her eye, watching him survey the room, and didn't want to take any notice of his frown. No doubt he too would have something to say about the hotel she had chosen. "I love you too. I'll call you tomorrow. I promise." And not just because she didn't need another Klaus intervention.

Caroline hung up, dropping her phone onto the bed as well and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds. She needed a moment to count to ten or she might snap some necks. She pulled her purse to her and picked out the hotel room keycards. "Here's yours and yours," she told the two of them, holding out one to each. "I like you both, really, but you-" She pointed at Caleb. "-snore like nobody's business and you-" Her attention turning to Patrick. She probably couldn't say anything about him being overbearing. "-also get your own room. They're one either side of this one so zip it on safety."

She needed some space. Caroline had realized that she did enjoy small moments of solitude, and while she usually thrived on having company, being constantly in theirs was beginning to aggravate her and that was the last thing any of them needed. When aggravated she seemed to attack people with light and since she didn't want to accidentally kill someone it was best if they could all sleep in their own rooms. Or so she had convinced herself.

Caroline wasn't a fool though and knew they would try to protest. "I'm going to take a bath. Caleb, can you see about us getting a meeting with the witches? Patrick." Oh hell. What did she need the vampire to do? Aside from stay out of Klaus' vision. Caroline was so not ready to open up that can of worms. "Why don't you make a list of everything you think we might need to know about this city?"

It'd keep the vampire occupied and it could turn out to be useful. She looked between the two of them, not surprised by either's reaction-Patrick's quickness to head off to do as he was asked while Caleb scowled at her, clearly not on board with the plan. Caroline held a hand up to the witch, her other rubbing at her temple. "Can we please do the 'Caroline are you insane?' part of this conversation after I get my bath?"

That really couldn't be too much to ask for.

Caleb shook his head, still not happy with the plan, but knew he wouldn't be able to talk her down just yet. "I'll go call the witches."

Caroline grinned, pleased to have won the round and headed off her bathroom, ready to scrub away three days' worth of grime from camping as well as soak in some bubbles. Maybe it would help push away the unsettling feeling that had settled over her ever since heading into the city. A girl could hope, right?


Three hours later and Caroline and Caleb were heading toward the cemetery that the witches had requested as a meeting place. Caroline had instructed Patrick to stay back, not trusting her luck for them to not have a run in with Klaus. She had noticed a few vampires as they moved through the crowds, blending into the jubilant crowds of tourists that danced around the streets. Caroline pushed down the need to stop and take in everything she was seeing, that she was hearing. She wanted to join in on the festivities that she didn't even understand, watch the trombone player play his instrument, see what was happening inside the bar with music that just seemed to call out for her to come and play. But she couldn't. Not yet. Duty was calling her and the sooner they met with the witches the better. Hopefully they would be able to provide some much needed insight into what exactly was happening in the city.

They were nearly at the graveyard when she stopped in the crowd, hairs on the back of her neck standing up as she looked up, trying to sense what was calling out to her, trying to draw her inwards. Her gaze locked on the window of a building, seeing a girl looking down, staring right at her. There was something off about her gaze, a wrongness to it that Caroline couldn't quite place, but she shook her head, hearing her name over the music.

"Caroline!" Caleb called again; already out of the crowd and waiting for her at the beginning of a side street.

Caroline glanced back at the window, frowning when she saw no one in it, before heading over to join Caleb. Was it a trick of her mind? Something she had imagined? Caroline didn't think so, but she knew she had to push it to the back of her mind for now. "I don't know how this is going to work," Caleb told her, and she glanced over at him, wondering what exactly he was talking about. "Cemeteries here are sacred ground which means you'll need an invite. I don't know if just anyone can give them or really if you'll even need one."

That caught her curiosity. "Why wouldn't I need one?"

Caleb shrugged, nodding to her, but clearly not wanting to say the words. He motioned to her hands and Caroline nodded, finally understanding. Maybe being the Harbinger altered that.

"Well, only one way to find out." She walked straight toward the cemetery, though slowed her pace once she was nearly there. The last thing she wanted to do was fall on her ass in front of him or anyone who might walk by. Except the boundary didn't seem to be there for her and she stepped right on across the threshold, not feeling any different. "Guess that answers that question."

"I wonder if anything else has changed," Caleb murmured, catching up to her and then leading the way toward where they were supposed to meet the witches.

Caroline brushed a hand through her hair. She wasn't sure, nothing else seemed to have changed, but maybe she simply hadn't noticed any differences yet. Caleb stopped walking in the middle of the path and she stopped beside him.

"I don't know what they're going to tell you," Caleb told her, looking more nervous than she had ever seen him. "But you need to remember, no matter how they try to spin everything; they had a part in their own circumstances. Yeah, there's an imbalance here-I can feel it to my very bones-but they have their own agenda. Everyone will in this." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. "No one is innocent."

She didn't necessarily agree with the last statement. There were innocents in the world, but she had a feeling that he was right about there being no innocent players in the game she had been thrown into head first. "I'm going to take what everyone tells me with a grain of salt," she promised, unable to help but wish that Bonnie was around to help. Not that she didn't appreciate Caleb, but she had known Bonnie for what seemed like forever and they just seemed to think one another's thoughts sometimes.

"Good." Caleb started walking again, heading down into the mausoleum Sophie had texted him to meet. He was used to phone conversations with her, but her worry over Marcel hearing him and deducing his location had seemed reasonable.

What he hadn't expected was to walk down into the dark cavern and find Sophie bound and gagged beside a bound Claire Laveau with a blonde woman he didn't know standing next to them. He was about to yell for Caroline to get out, that it was a trap, but she was already down the stairs and in the room before he could utter a word.

"Rebekah?" Caroline asked confused as to why the Original was in the room with two bound women, no doubt the witches she was supposed to meet.

"What are you doing here?" Rebekah demanded, clearly not impressed to see her as she tapped her foot impatiently.

"I think I'm supposed to ask you that question." Caroline crossed her arms, glaring at the woman. "Aren't you supposed to be in Europe with Matt?" Not that she hadn't already known the Original wasn't there, but she never had figured out why the girl had left. She really did need to call Matt and make sure he was okay.

"Family matter. None of your concern." It was almost amusing how bored Rebekah looked with the conversation. "Who's your little toy?"

"Caleb. And he's not a toy," Caroline hissed, clearly annoyed at the lack of respect for the young man. She didn't see Caleb trying to silently dissuade her from talking until she had already spoken.

Rebekah dropped the phone she had been toying with, eyes widening in shocking realization as she finally looked at Caroline. "Oh no no no," she started, laughing as she glanced down at the two bound women before looking back at Caroline. "My brother's downfall all wrapped up nicely in the body of the one woman he dared to fall in love with. Well, this certainly should make everything much more interesting around here."


AN: I feel like I'm going to be yelled at for leaving it here but it was the most natural break for what happens next. Next chapter will hopefully be up by Monday! Thank you for all the reviews, follows, etc.