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She paused when she stepped into the main chamber and waved the cobweb from her face. She dusted off her shoulder with her free hand while Kol continued to pull her into the center of the dark room.
The light that filtered in from the door cut off when it slammed shut. Her heart drummed in her chest when she was plunged in darkness. She had never liked the dark; Amara used to hold her at night when the clouds would blot out the light of the moon. Those had been the days before she had learned a spell to cast a soft light over them both.
It was the scuffling sound somewhere to her right that made her scream and squeeze his hand tightly.
Kol startled when she clung to him and waved his free hand. Every candle and kerosene lamp that had been left behind flared to life.
He laid his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and tilted his head. A tiny smirk lifted one corner of his mouth until he saw the nervous set of her mouth.
"Alright, darling?"
She nodded slowly after a minute and lowered her eyes to where she was holding him in a death grip. His thumb was rubbing across her knuckles absentmindedly in a soothing manner; she was almost reluctant to let go.
Kol seemed to realize, when her grip slackened, what he had been doing and let go so he could step away. He put a few inches of space between them and ran his hand along a table covered in a thick layer of dust.
She relaxed slowly and turned in a semicircle to examine the cluttered shelves containing all manner of objects and books. She ran her fingers along a shelf and frowned when she spotted a silver dagger; it was identical to the one Elijah had hidden in his jacket.
"What is this place?"
"This was my playhouse," he lifted the needle on an antique record player and wiped off the dust with his fingers. "A hundred years ago I worked with the witches of this town to try and take down my brother." He lifted the record and gently blew the dust across the surface.
Alenka's eyes grew round when she turned towards a low table where she recognized the dusty remains of a laboratory.
"Kemiya?" She arched an eyebrow when she turned to watch him replace the black disc and move the narrow strip of wood over top of it. A jaunty melody lifted from the device to fill the large space. "What were you trying to do? You must have had something specific in mind to have witches altering the basic foundations of objects."
"You're clever," he leaned against the table and watched her turn back towards the shelf of grimoires. "Tell me are you still a witch?"
She froze and inhaled slowly. She didn't think she was a witch anymore, but she was definitely something. She couldn't feel the connection she had once held with the earth and nature, but she could sense the dark energy harnessed in many of the objects in that room.
Her silence seemed to be more than enough of an answer.
"I don't think you are," he pushed off the table and took small steps towards her. "You were one, but you were reborn into another supernatural race."
"So what am I then?" She found her voice. Her neck turned slightly so she could tip her head back and meet his eyes.
"You were born into the Petrova family," his eyes searched her gaze. He saw no fear there; only the light of curiosity. "I got to thinking after that day in the greenhouse and I remembered a grimoire I had in my possession; locked away by the Claire family. It belonged to the Petrova family."
"Why did you bring me here?" She fingered the spine of a leather bound book.
Kol smirked when he saw what book her fingers were ghosting over. He reached up and pulled the book down from the shelf; his hands brushed hers when he laid the smooth leather in her hands. Electricity jolted up his arm.
"I wanted to show you this," he watched her balance the book.
She traced the faded 'P' with her fingertip before lifting the worn leather. Much like the journal she found the language of the first page strange, but unlike the journal relaxing her mind did nothing to help her understand. She could only surmise that this was not a language she had learned in her current life.
The second page proved more fruitful. The symbols were ancient, but she clearly recognized the faded language of magic; she would have understood it anywhere. The comments along the bottom of the page were foreign but she recognized the spell; it surprised her that it was not designed to call on the power of nature. It wouldn't even allow for the channeling of another witch.
"I figured that I was something," she murmured into the page.
"You're a gypsy," he nodded to the page.
"What does my coven have to do with this?" She lifted her confused eyes to his face. "That's what everyone always called us."
"Well, from what I understand," Kol watched as she flipped through the book, "the gypsies were cursed a long time ago."
"It was clearly after my murder," she swallowed thickly. The image of the knife flooded her mind's eye and sent a combination of anger and fear to settle in her stomach. She needed to focus on anything else. "Cursed? Why were they cursed?"
In her experience any curse could be broken. She had lost her sister, her husband and her child, but maybe… just maybe… she didn't have to lose her magic. Hope fluttered in her chest.
"Rumor has it," he tilted his head when he caught a distant light in her eyes, "that it was because of the immortality spell created by the witch Qetsiyah."
She couldn't have stopped the laugh. She blinked back a few tears and pressed her lips together as guilt clawed its way up her throat. It wasn't enough that her actions hadn't just resulted in the death of her family; her entire coven suffered to.
I never should have made that damn potion; she took a deep breath to calm down. The hand he placed on her shoulder certainly helped.
"Is there a way to break it?" She pointedly ignored his concerned look.
"Maybe," Kol shrugged, "there's usually a way to break every curse, but that's not why I brought you here."
"Perhaps you could get to the point then," she lifted her phone from her pocket, "your brother is calling me."
Kol nodded before reaching inside his jacket and extracting the vial of herbs. He held it up to the light of a kerosene lamp so she could see the fine powder.
"I didn't think I should give you this out in the open," he shrugged and pressed the vial into her palm. "That should bring back any lost or concealed memories. Just dissolve it in water."
He could see the hesitation in her eyes when she eyed the powder.
"How do I know this isn't poison?"
"You'll just have to trust me, darling."
"You admitted to wanting to kill me," she gave him a pointed look.
"I haven't yet," he smirked.
He mused over his sudden hesitation to end her life when she tucked the potion into her pocket and left the tomb. He told himself it was because she didn't remember and that it wouldn't be as satisfying without knowing the reason why.
He knew that wasn't the reason, but it was the one he was going with. The truth was, the blind rage had passed and he was curious. He had been curious about Elena as well before what had happened. He'd found her enchanting, alluring, and hauntingly sad; she had a lot more in common with herself than she realized.
He had spotted that ghostly light he had seen the night he died. He had seen it again when she had asked about the curse.
He was intimately familiar with how it felt to be cut off completely from nature. Travellers were cut off from nature. He wasn't quite sure why he picked up the discarded Petrova book; he just knew that if there was an answer it was likely to be within the confines of a traveller book.
She twirled the tiny blue flowers between her fingers and hugged her knees to her chest. She only lifted her gaze when she felt the body sit beside her.
"What's wrong?" Elijah leaned back against the book shelf and drew up one knee to rest his elbow on.
"What makes you think something's wrong?" She attempted a small smile. It fell when she looked at him. It hurt to look at him.
"You're sitting alone in a dark room staring at that flower like it has personally offended you." He carefully lifted the flowers from her hand. "Something you want to forget, Elena?"
"I think I've forgotten enough," she chuckled. There was something dark in her gaze. She cleared her throat before he could ask. "How goes the plan to clean up the city?"
"How do you know about that?" His eyes narrowed when she stared out at the library.
"I hear things," she stretched out her legs and dropped her hands to her legs. She could feel the slim vial of herbs in her pocket.
"It's coming along fine, slowly, but fine," Elijah nodded. He watched her from the corner of his eye. "What issues are you having with your memory, Elena? What do you remember?"
She hesitated and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. It wasn't like she had any hope of lying to a vampire; Caroline had told her about her heartbeat.
"Nothing," she exhaled, "I remember nothing. All I know I learned from Caroline and my journal; I don't remember writing any of it."
"You've forgotten everything?" Elijah leaned forward and twisted to face her.
"Everything about my life," she nodded. And not nearly enough.
"Did Miss Forbes show you her memories?" Elijah inhaled when she shook her head. "You've stepped into a house full of strangers."
"Everyone is a stranger," she shrugged, "and my memory might come back one day."
"You don't believe that," he shook his head. He could hear the truth in her heart beat. "I can show you some memories if you like. The ones I shared with you; it might make you a little more comfortable in the house."
She hesitated for a moment before nodding once.
She moved a few things aside on the nightstand to make room for the plastic water bottle. She sighed when the settled glass upset the green leather and papers scattered across the bedroom floor.
Falling to her knees she gathered the pictures and set them on the bed spread before reaching for a folded sheet of paper that had slid under the bed. The parchment was heavy in her hands and completely unfamiliar.
She frowned when she read the slanting script. The memories Elijah had shown her had instilled feelings of tentative trust, but he had given no indication that he had ever done anything abhorrent yet here was undeniable proof in her hand.
What had he done? What had he not shown her?
She picked up the vial of powder Kol had given her earlier. She was curious and confused. Honestly she just wanted some answers.
She dumped the contents into her glass of water and watched the powder dissolve before raising the glass to her lips. She downed the entire thing and set the glass down. For a moment nothing happened.
She was starting to think her leap of faith had been pointless when her eyelids grew heavy. She blinked against the onset of sleep and managed to brace her hands on the bed before she collapsed against the pillows.
Tiny hands reached up high over her head in an attempt to grasp the bright red fruit. She jumped and huffed when her fingers didn't make contact.
"You'll never reach it that way, Alenka."
"Can you help me?" She tipped her head back to look at her mother.
"Of course…"
"No, mama," Alenka pulled on her mother's skirts, "I want to do it." She laughed when her mother took hold of her sides and lifted her so she could wrap her hand around the pomegranate; it came free from the tree easily.
"Now that is far too much for just you," she tapped the fruit in Alenka's hand.
"I'll share it with Amara," her eyes sparkled when she smiled broadly.
"You'll have to find her first."
Alenka nodded before hugging her mother's legs and running off towards the farther side of the garden where she knew Amara was hiding.
She rounded the corner and frowned when she saw her grown sister bound to the workbench in her garden. Her eyes widened when the shackles closed around her wrist and the magic stopped in her bones.
She bolted upright with her heart in her throat. Fear twisted in her gut and clawed through her body. Somewhere far away she heard the distant sound of screaming, but it wasn't until strong arms wrapped around her body that she realized it was coming from her.
The voices seemed to come from far away. She couldn't make out any of the conversation happening around her; all she could hear were the screams of Amara… of her.
"What's wrong with her?" Hayley glared at the slim brunette, as she continued to screech, in Elijah's arms.
"I'm not sure," Elijah listened to her erratic heart and smelt the fear rising from her blood. "I think she had a nightmare. She's still having one."
"Well, her screaming is going to wake the entire city," Klaus grumbled.
"Yes," Elijah drawled, "because this city sleeps."
"Just make her stop," Hayley covered her ears. "You'd think someone was killing her."
Klaus pushed around Hayley and perched on the edge of the bed. He laid his hands to either side of her head. His eyes grew round when he saw the wicked curve of a knife coming down over her body. Normally it was best to ease out of a nightmare and in to a new dream, but he changed tactics quickly and planted a soothing image of the Falls in the moonlight before retreating from her mind.
Elijah felt her slowly relax in his arms. When she slumped back against his bare chest he waited a moment to make sure she was asleep and laid her down.
Hayley fought down the urge to be sick and turned away from the room and the tender way the Mikaelson's were caring for Elena. She had hated the way everything seemed to revolve around Elena Gilbert in Mystic Falls; the girl wrapped everyone around her little finger and she was doing it again here. She probably hadn't even had a nightmare; she was just looking for attention.
What are your amazing thoughts on this story so far?
I wonder if any of you are going to guess the major thing that's going to happen. I've been foreshadowing it since the very beginning. It was an event I was planning for either version of the story; the only difference will be the motivation.