How's everyone making out?
I myself have been inside for a week because of the quarantines in place (I'm not sick, but everything has shut down because of the virus).
Hopefully this new chapter brightens your day.
Late... late... late...
She could already hear Monique's biting tone. Nearly eighteen years to the day and she still took every chance to call her out for tardiness. The barbs had dulled over the years, but they still came.
She had reached the point in her life where she made a point to provoke her sister witch.
New Orleans was peaceful.
She had to amuse herself somehow.
Monique made it too easy, but this time she hadn't gone out of her way to tick the woman off.
The earthquake and subsequent accidents woke Elle from her sound sleep; it had taken the joint efforts of both her and Kaleb to return their three year old child to sleep.
She doubted Monique would understand; she didn't have kids.
Cassie might get it... or maybe Abigail.
Monique would pick a fight.
Except something wasn't right.
Monique should have been standing outside the Lycée with her hands on her hips, hundreds of flickering candles illuminating her silhouette.
She should have been waiting.
She wasn't.
The same survival instinct that delayed the Harvest by a year reared its head, biting down on her tongue. Monique would have said that her instinct was stupid and that she should ignore it which was the very reason she listened.
She pushed the door open and held her breath as she stepped over the overgrown vines.
White wax dripped off an overturned candle falling into a small puddle of shiny red wax. Except they didn't have red candles.
She knelt, reaching with a deceptively steady hand for the warm red liquid.
She pulled her arm back.
Blood trickled down her fingers.
She wasn't a vampire, but she knew blood.
Slowly she followed the puddle, crawling around the table until she bumped against something that definitely shouldn't have been on the floor.
A knot formed below her heart.
"Monique?" She whispered, feeling for a pulse.
She twisted her neck and spotted a barefoot and blond hair. "Abigail? Cassie?"
Both women stared with unseeing eyes.
"Don't dismiss the elements..." A woman crooned, "for there is no sweeter blood.'"
The whisper brushed Davina's ear. Thin fingers held her down and she found herself trapped in a woman's arms before she could even think of moving.
"Who are you?" She tried to twist free.
Sharp teeth grazed her throat.
She flinched and gasped, the action causing a pinprick.
"You're different," she purred, licking a drop of blood, "spicy, not sweet."
Davina's brain went blank for a moment, like someone hit delete and erased every spell she had ever learned.
She repeated the question.
"Oh my little Harvest witch," a hand reached for Davina's throat. "I was you once upon a time. Your element was mine. I'll savour you... fire is a delicacy."
Davina struggled. The only thing she could think of was boiling her blood, but it was rather hard to concentrate with fangs in her throat.
Everyone always said their lives flashed before there eyes, but she didn't see everything.
She saw her family.
She saw Elle.
She saw Kaleb.
And she heard him whisper the first spell they learned together.
She murmured the words and fell down on hard stone; in the distance she heard a delighted laugh.
"I know you're still here."
People always said to never walk through the Bronx at night. The neighbourhood was unsafe during the day, but when the sun went down it was best to avoid the area entirely if the goal was to avoid theft, assault and homicide.
Of course, that rule didn't apply to those of an undead nature.
They had nothing to worry about. He had no conceivable reason to fear leaving his brother alone in the car for three minutes while he popped inside to pay for gas; which was why he was very confused, and more than a little upset when he returned and saw the shattered glass that had recently been the passenger window. If he wasn't hurt then he would be soon.
That car was a classic.
He followed his ears toward the sounds he had initially dismissed: thuds, grunts and clangs.
The metallic scent of fresh blood hit his senses, but he was unsure how to react to what he saw.
His brother was pinned to the ground with three pieces of rebar stuck through his body, turning his internal organs to ground beef.
Normally that would have been cause to run forward and pull the rebar free, use it on the person who had inflicted the initial pain and then get some fresh blood to help him heal... normally, but the person causing pain shouldn't have been able to cause him pain, so he stood frozen.
She had legs that went on for days and were made longer by the high heels she used to stomp down.
"Lexi?" He found his voice.
She paused, spiked heel hovering an inch above Damon's eye; the black veins under her eyes vanished, red fading to hazel.
"Hi," she grinned, holding up a single finger. "Just give me one second."
"To what," he held out his hands, "blind my brother?"
Damon groaned, but stayed still; any move set his body aflame.
"I wanted to kill him," she tilted her head, sleek hair tumbled over her shoulder, "but since he's your brother and I love you I'm gonna settle for maiming."
"It looks like you've already maimed."
"No where near enough."
"You've had your fun," Damon panted, blood coating his lips.
"Shut up, Damon," Lexi lowered her foot, "nobody asked you."
"Maybe," Stefan slowly approached them, "we could postpone the maiming? You could give him a good beating once a day for the next ten years."
"I doubt I'll have that kind of time, Stef."
"All the more reason to spend it with me," he smiled. "Come on, lets get a drink, and you can tell me all about how you got here."
Lexi smirked.
"Make it blood and you've got a deal."
"Deal," he grinned.
She threw her arms around him; he returned the hug and then bent to yank the rebar from Damon.
"Now, can one of you tell me what happened to my car?"
"It was fine when I dragged Damon here."
Several dozen books in several dozen languages covered the bed and night stands from the last few hours reabsorbing the knowledge inside.
Kol flipped through the pages with one hand, using the other to trace vague patterns along her spine. When they started their research she would giggle and squirm every time his fingers teased the dimples in her back, but she had fallen silent a few moments ago.
"Darling," he turned a page, "have you found something?" There was no response. "Darling?"
He finished his sentence and turned enough to see her.
His eyes followed the length of her spine up to where her shoulders had fallen.
A red grimoire acted as an impromptu pillow.
He briefly considered waking her so they could keep working, but nothing had happened since the earthquake – not as much as an aftershock.
He took the book from under her head, moved a few more and stretched out behind her for a short break.
Odds were it was the Harvest Girls anyway.
She stumbled at the top of the stairs and would most definitely have fallen end over end in a poor imitation of a somersault if not for the swift hands on her hips. Instead she fell back into strong arms and a broad chest.
"I do know how to walk," she glanced up over her shoulder, "I've been doing it successfully, on my own, since I was one year old."
"The task becomes decidedly harder after three bottles of tequila and three inch heels," he rolled his eyes.
"I have my feet under me again," she looked toward the open door. A feral growl rumbled up from the darkened depths of the cellar.
"It sounds like someone might be loose," he spun her toward the entry in a slow circle, "best let me handle this one, love."
"Are you scared some other wolf is going to bite me?" She tilted her head, smirking.
"I'd rather not take the risk, and I'm the only wolf allowed to bite you, sweetheart," he cocked an eyebrow.
She backed toward the door. "Jealousy is a cute look on you; at least when it's not murderous."
"I've never been murderously jealous," he glared.
"Tyler?" She grinned when he sputtered.
She left him to the cellar and ran across the open field to the school, following her ears toward the dining hall where students and staff had congregated.
Several flashlight beams hit her face at the same moment, dazzling her. She shielded her eyes, blinking away the bright spots.
"Is everyone still accounted for?"
"Everybody but dad," Lizzie lowered her flashlight.
"He went to get the lights back on," Josie tucked her hair behind her ear and then crossed her arms. "Mom, what happened? Are Jed and Raf okay?"
"Klaus is checking on them right now," Caroline glanced around the room. Aside from a few broken glasses the dining hall appeared untouched. "There was an earthquake, so far that's all we know. Was it bad out here?"
"The ground shook, some stuff broke and the lights turned off," MG spoke up from the other side of the room.
"They turned off?" She took the flashlight from Lizzie and directed it toward the ceiling with its intact lightbulbs; they flickered to life as she stared. "Must have blown a breaker," she murmured.
"At least they didn't explode," Klaus glanced up as he walked in.
"Is that what happened in town?" Josie blew out the candles on the table.
"Amongst other things."
"Is everyone alright?" Hayley called. She swayed on the spot and accepted the blood bag Elijah handed her. She downed it and moved further into the crowd, meeting Jackson halfway to the fire pit; her eyes flickered to the scorched trees nearby.
"For the most part we're fine," he nodded. "Minor scrapes and bruises, a few broken bones and one nasty burn, but only the triggered wolves and everyone is already healing."
"Does anyone need assistance in healing, so they are prepared to shift back?" Elijah looked around.
"Maybe Oliver," Jackson jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "It was a really bad burn."
"Okay," Eve shut the bedroom door, "I can feel you tossing and turning all the way down the hall. Your restlessness is rubbing off on me."
She dropped on the bed.
"Sorry," Hope shifted, laying her head on Eve's shoulder. "It's the fall moon. It's making me..."
"Restless?" Eve smirked.
"I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin. I swear it's getting worse each month."
"You only turned the once; all that energy is building up." She tilted her head, staring at the ceiling.
"I wish it would go away," Hope groaned, tossing her arm over the side of the bed.
"Maybe it can," Eve smirked.
"How?" Hope laughed. Muscles twitched in her legs.
"You already said it," she propped her body on her elbow. "Lafayette will be empty;" she wiggled her eyebrows. "The perfect place to jump out of your skin."
Frozen bricks scraped her back, pulling at her jacket and matted hair. The cold grounded her as her head spun. Panic she once knew well rioted inside her; she thought after eighteen years she would have forgotten the feeling, but she hadn't.
She tugged at her blood soaked scarf, struggling to pull the ends tight for the limited pressure.
An involuntary cry escaped; she slapped her hand over her mouth, ineffectively stifling the sound.
"Come out, come out wherever you are."
It was difficult to tell over the pounding of her own heart, but it sounded like her tormentor was one or two rows away; definitely blocking the side entrance she had been racing for.
Her pocket vibrated.
She pulled out the phone with clumsy fingers. Through the haze of her blood loss she read the incoming message.
KALEB: Everything alright? I can call Josh to sit if you need help.
"I can smell you," the woman giggled. "It's intoxicating. You wouldn't believe how much."
Did she need help?
"Witches make the greatest meals."
Yes, she needed help.
"Maybe I'll turn you, and you can find out yourself."
Was she going to involve her husband, and potentially leave her daughter an orphan?
Hell no.
She braced her legs, summoned what little strength she had and pushed away from the mausoleum.
There was one tomb, and if she didn't look back she had a descent chance of making it. Her predator seemed more intent on stalking for the time being.
She could make it.
She just had to weave.
Her feet took her from one tomb to another until she saw the outline of the building she wanted.
She stumbled through the open door, dropped to her knees. Her palms scraped over the floor, but she didn't realize they were bleeding until she sealed the entrance with a spell.
It was only after her heart calmed and she had fallen flat on her back that she realized what was wrong in the crypt.
The door should not have been open. The candles should not have been lit. And the urns should not have been broken.
She swore and picked up a broken piece of pottery. Her thumb traced the raised ridges of the crest as she pulled out her phone.
"Clever little witch," Ariadne tilted her head. She pulled on the door experimentally. Her free hand pressed against the crest.
Once upon a time the ornate 'M' had made her heart pound. It had filled her body with intense feelings of love and lust; now it filled her with rage and a lust for revenge.
"What are you doing?"
Ariadne spun, coming face to face with a teenage girl. She scrutinized her features from the soft brown waves around her familiar face to her dark eyes that radiated a contradicting light. She knew the curve of the girl's mouth – the hidden smile lingering in the corner.
But that wasn't possible.
Was it?
"Midnight site seeing tour." Ariadne stepped away from the building, sizing the girl up.
"My grandparent's tomb isn't on any tour," she crossed her arms.
"Your grandparents?" Her eyes flickered to the family crest on the girl's wrist; the 'M' gleamed on a bracelet.
"Yes," she glanced to Ariadne's daylight necklace. "You should probably go. The cemetery's not safe tonight; unless you wanna die from a wolf bite."
"There are wolves in the cemetery?"
"Tonight there are," she smirked.
Ariadne's eyes narrowed. "I suppose I should go."
She circled around and took five steps for show. Then she turned.
"You're a Mikaelson?" She tilted her head. "I've had a few run-ins with the family, but I don't recognize you." She waved one finger. "You're not afraid of wolves so you must be one of Klaus' hybrids. Did they adopt you?"
She nodded to the crest.
"No," she twisted the bracelet. "I'm an Original: Kol and Elena's daughter. I thought everyone knew me. I'm Eve."
"No, no," Ariadne lied smoothly, "I know you. I just didn't realize you were you. Have a lovely night Eve Mikaelson. I'm certain our paths will cross again soon."
Any other person and she might have found the sight before her adorable, but she refused to place that label on her annoying older brother. The last time he had been adorable was before he pushed her into the river before she was ready and put the grass snake in her bed; he was the worst child. Thankfully his children took after their mother... for the most part.
Elena, she would label adorable.
It was certainly cute the way she faced her husband, face upturned in expectation of his good morning kiss. It was sweet, the way she snuggled into his side.
But Kol was involved so it was not adorable.
Rebekah glanced down as she crossed the bedroom, unsurprised by the missed call on Elena's phone. It was only natural that Davina tried her first.
She snapped her finger in Kol's ear.
He jerked, rolling onto his back. His clouded eyes landed on Rebekah.
"What?" He snapped.
Elena snuggled into his side; her lips brushed his neck.
Kol made an effort to control his tone.
"What's wrong with you Bex? It's the middle of the night."
"Wee hours of the morning, actually," she corrected in a hushed whisper as she motioned to the door. "Shut up, and get your shoes on. We're going to the cemetery."
"Why?" He carefully sat up so as not to displace Elena.
"Davina called," she paused in the door. "There's a problem." Her eyes gleamed in the dark. "There's a mystery to solve."
"I see," he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "And when exactly did I become Watson to your Holmes?"
"When I saw Elena was asleep," Rebekah grinned. "Now get your lazy arse out of bed, and follow me. This is serious."
"Your grin says otherwise," he muttered, but followed all the same. He paused for a moment to brush Elena's hair from her face and kiss her brow.
"Come on," Rebekah hissed. "We haven't got all night. I'm absolutely starved for some entertainment."
A rational person would have been terrified of the glowing eyes and razor sharp fangs. Even an irrational person would have felt an inkling of fear.
Who wouldn't scream at the sight of that muzzle lunging for the throat?
It was normal; she, however, was not.
"Alright," Eve propped herself on her elbows, "you've had your fun."
The wolf growled the sound rumbling through its body.
"Is that meant to scare me?" She rolled her eyes. "We shared a crib Hope, I know you're not gonna bite me."
Hope pushed her back down, pressing her little cousin's body flat to the stone. She lifted her muzzle, scenting the air before slowly slinking off of Eve and stalking towards the end of the alley between the mausoleums.
Eve rolled up, jumping to her feet; her heels made a hollow click as she shifted. She held out her hands when Hope's head spun around and she found herself in the clutches of her yellow eyes. She took another step.
Hope huffed, muzzle dropping to Eve's shoes.
"Okay," she whispered, "I get the message." She slipped off her shoes and held them in one hand, padding towards the light on bare feet. She pressed herself into the shadows when she caught what Hope had already smelled.
Spilled blood lingered in the air, faint but fresh. The copper floated on the breeze, creating a shimmering path that she could almost see that led towards the cemetery gates.
Hope peeked around the wall and then bounded off.
Eve followed at a human jog, cutting between crypts and through shadows. At one point she lost sight of Hope.
She stuttered to a halt in the middle of two rows and spun in a circle, searching with her other senses for any sign of her.
Claws on stone made a distinctive sound; at least they had at first before Hope learned to shift her weight to the pads of her paws.
She heard nothing.
She saw nothing.
And all she could smell was the blood.
It was making her quite hungry.
"You look lost."
Eve spun, nearly dropping her bag with Hope's clothes. Her eyes narrowed as a man she had never seen before stepped out of the shadows.
"I'm fine," she adjusted her shoulder strap. "I know this cemetery like the back of my hand."
"And yet," his accent thickened, "you wear the look of the lost."
She thought he sounded Greek.
"The look of the lost?" Her spine stiffened. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up when he looked her over. That look of unbridled hunger sent chills down her spine.
"Yes," he tilted his head. "There is this desperate gleam in your eye. May I offer my assistance?"
"Like I said," Eve crossed her arms, "I know this cemetery like the back of my hand." She and Hope used to run through the lanes as children, playing a game of tag or hide and seek that nobody else fully understood.
"The back of your hand, hmm?" His eyes glittered. "Then perhaps you could help me. I seem to be lost."
"And yet," Eve arched an eyebrow, "you wear shining armor."
"I'm no white knight," he circled around her slowly.
"I worked that one out for myself," she scoffed. What was up with the vampires tonight? New Orleans was known as a supernatural mecca for everyone; any vampire worth their fangs knew to stay indoors on full moons. Ok… maybe not New Orleans vamps, but they still avoided the cemetery. Full moons belonged to the witches.
"You're a clever one," he hummed.
"Well, I try," she took a step away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find my cousin."
"Are you so desperate to flee?"
He snatched her elbow, whirling her into the nearest building.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" Eve's voice rose, heightened by her disbelief.
"You are a Mikaelson," he tightened his hold on her arm, lifting her wrist enough so he could see the bracelet. "A new Mikaelson and I find myself desperate to know you better."
"So you do know," she tried to wrench away. He was older than her though; beyond the two centuries she could have physically overpowered. "That makes you really stupid."
He caught her other wrist when she tried to strike. "You have your mother's attitude."
"I got a lot from my mother," she smirked. The blood on his mouth taunted her. "My dad, too. You're messing with the wrong girl, mate," her voice shifted on the final word in a perfect imitation of her father's accent. "Let me go now, or I swear you'll regret it."
"You've a sharp tongue," he chuckled. He lowered his head, hot breath fanning over her ear. "The things I could do with it…"
A feral growl came from her left. Her attacker straightened up, turning his head ever so slightly toward the wolf. She felt the shiver of fear when he saw the glowing yellow eyes.
"I got this, babe," Eve glanced toward Hope.
He frowned when the wolf relaxed marginally. His brows furrowed when he met Eve's eyes again. "You don't have anything."
"Wanna bet?" Eve smirked, ignoring the desire of her knees to knock together. Her eyes flickered over the vampire's shoulder to where dawn threatened to break over a mausoleum. She met his gaze again, letting her pupils dilate and her tone drop to the persuasive voice she had perfected with her mother's help.
"Let go of me, take off your ring and give it to me."
He released her, robotically pulling the jewelry from his finger. He dropped it in her outstretched palm.
Eve pocketed the powerful talisman and tilted her head, tone shifting to one she might have used in a friendly conversation.
"If I were you I'd make a break for it now," she motioned to the sunrise.
"What's stopping me from taking it back?" He surged forward, pinning her to the wall between his arms.
"This," she caught his chin, compelling him further as the back of his neck began to bubble. "You are never going to lay a hand on me again."
"You're an Original," rage flashed behind his gaze.
"Hybrid, born and raised, darling," she shoved him backwards. "You met the vampire. Now run from the sun, and pray you never meet the witch."
Eve suspected he might have stayed longer – she hadn't exactly compelled him to leave – but the break of day made the final decision for him. Once he was gone from sight the tremor began, swathing over the back of her legs upwards through her entire body. She used the wall to slide to the ground.
Hope padded over, laying her upper body over Eve's legs.
She threaded her fingers in the coarse fur until she found the soft inner layer. She fisted the thick wool and tried to take deep breaths.
Kol smelled the blood long before he saw a body, and he stopped up short, frowning when his sister paused further along a different path.
"It's coming from this way," he nodded.
"Davina's insisted we meet her at the tomb," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
"Which one would that be little sister?" Kol's eyes flickered from left to right, bouncing off the dozen tombs in the immediate vicinity.
"Ours," she walked backwards. Her eyes narrowed the further she went. Faint traces of blood teased her tongue.
Kol took one last look towards the blood and then followed his sister through the fog. They moved from one aisle to another and would have lost each other in the sun kissed mist on several occasions.
Heels clicked over stone to his right. He paused. From the corner of his eye he caught the edge of a long skirt and blonde curls disappearing around a corner.
"A little early for tourists," he called.
"Could be a witch?" Rebekah shrugged. "They're probably meeting everywhere to figure out what happened last night."
"I thought that was the Harvest girls," he reluctantly moved on. Through the fading fog he saw the family crest on their mausoleum. "Is it odd that a family of immortals has a tomb?"
"Would you rather keep our dearly departed parents in the house?" Rebekah tilted her head to the left. "We could clear a spot on the mantle."
"I'd rather not have mother and father looking down on us for the rest of eternity. They can rot far away from us."
"I don't know how much rotting urns of ashes can do," she rolled her eyes, "but I share your sentiment."
"We all do," he glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, scrutinizing his every move from the shadows. "So where is Davina Claire?"
"Technically she's Davina Westphall now," Rebekah reminded him.
"I do recall offering my heartfelt condolences to Kaleb."
"And I recall Davina giving you a wicked migraine for the comment," she smiled. It was the rare witch that could take on her brother and live to tell the tale; though she suspected Elena had more to do with Davina's living than Kol's 'good' nature. "She's inside."
"That's funny," he rocked back on his heels. "Where is she really? Come on, Bex. You dragged me out of bed for the little witch…"
"Kol," she crossed her arms. "Davina is inside."
"She can't be inside," he scoffed at the very idea. "Elena and I insured this tomb was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Nobody in or out."
"Which is exactly the mystery we have come to solve," she motioned to the door. "Open it up."
"I would need Elena for that," he cocked an eyebrow.
"Were you not listening brother? Somebody has busted through the powerful wards Elena erected. Only Davina is protecting this place now, and you're more than capable of overpowering a single Harvest witch. All four of them would be a different story."
"Fine," he lifted his hands, channeling his magic towards the door and only half believing it would work. "Dissera portus." His eyes widened when the heavy stone was all but blown off its hinges.
"Told you so."
He ignored his sister's crowing and raced inside where blood and a weak heartbeat greeted him.
"Oh my… Davina…" Rebekah dropped to her knees. Her teeth tore into her wrist before she pressed her skin to the witch's mouth, not pulling away until some of the colour returned to her face.
Davina's eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times and then managed to focus on the Original looming over her.
"I said Elena," she turned to Rebekah.
"Sorry, love," she shrugged. "Once Elena's asleep she's pretty much dead to the world. Only the kids and Kol are capable of waking her."
"So why didn't you wake her?" She glared up at him.
"Wake my wife from a peaceful slumber for you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Darling, I would have to genuinely like you to do that. And I've disliked you since you upset my pregnant wife."
"I'd rather deal with your 'pregnant' wife."
"Everyone would, Davina." Rebekah smirked. "A hormonal Elena is preferable to Kol any day of the week."
"Ouch," he pressed his hand to his chest, feigning hurt. He dropped the act after a moment to glower at Davina. "How did you get in here?"
"The door was open." She got to her feet, rolling her neck and pulling the scarf away; it resisted at first, stuck in place by her dried blood but after a second sharp yank it came free.
"You didn't think to stay outside and call us?" His eyes flickered to her throat.
"I was a little busy running for my life," she snapped. "There's a psycho in the cemetery."
"I only see you." Kol tilted his head.
"Then you're extremely unobservant," she waved behind his body. "Did you even notice that your parent's urns are smashed to bits?"
He turned around and felt his heart still in his chest. Two indestructible urns lay in pieces near the wall with no sign of ash anywhere. He caught a glimpse of Rebekah's face when she stepped up beside him and twisted to fully take in her grim expression.
"Entertained yet?"
Elena held her cell phone too her ear and pulled some clothes from the closet. The call connected when she started to shimmy out of her jeans; she switched it to speaker.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Bekah. Is Kol with you? He wasn't here when I woke up."
"Yes, I hope you don't mind. I borrowed him for a while."
"Is everything okay?" She reached behind her back, struggling with the zipper.
"It's…"
Elena glanced at the phone when she heard a slight scuffle.
"Good morning, my darling… everything is… fine…"
"You're a terrible liar, Kol Mikaelson," she rolled her eyes.
"I'm an excellent liar. You, however, need some practice. Everything is perfectly fine."
"For now…" Rebekah sang.
If Elena didn't know any better she would have said the blonde sounded equal parts excited and tense.
"Kol, what is going on?"
"I really didn't want to discuss this over the phone," he sighed. "There's been an incident in Lafayette. Let's call it a break from recent peace for now."
"Why don't we call it me wanting to spend quality time with my brother?"
Kol groaned.
"You two call this quality time?"
"Was that Davina?" Elena grinned triumphantly when she managed to pull up the zipper.
"Yes it was. We're going to investigate and then Rebekah and I will be home."
"Okay," she nodded slowly, as if he could actually see her. "Be careful and let me know what's going on later. Oh… and please don't come home screaming at each other."
Kol hung up the phone and gestured towards the corpses that had oh so recently been witches.
"Quality time?"
"Oh come on," Rebekah grinned. "You have to admit that this is a beautiful sight. It reminds me of the good old days."
"Beautiful?" Davina practically shrieked. "These are my friends."
"Really?" Kol's eyes darted from Davina to Monique. "I seem to recall that one locking you in a nuthouse, and the other two tormenting you to no end for nearly a decade."
"Fair point," Davina's jaw ticked, but to her credit she didn't lower her gaze. "They were my sisters though, so if you could be less caviller about this that would be great."
"When did you see me taking this lightly?" He snapped. "We have three dead witches, a murderous vampire roaming the grounds, and our parents ashes are missing. I'm half-convinced you lot," he motioned to the dead, "opened that tomb, stole the ashes and resurrected two people who should have stayed buried."
"Why the hell would we have done that? What could we possibly gain from resurrecting your parents?"
"Power," Rebekah cut in. "Mother wants us dead. Father wants us dead. Both nearly succeeded at one point. If they were alive odds are war would break out that would either end with them dead, or all vampires dead. Without vampires the witches could take over the French Quarter."
"They could take over the entire world," Kol shook his head.
"Are you both crazy?" Davina closed her eyes when they both flashed her manic grins. "I walked into that one," she muttered. "If the vampires go, nature will be in turmoil; it has had a millennium to adjust."
"Finally a witch that gets it," Kol sighed. "Now the question remains: who the bloody hell did this?"
"Eve?" Rebekah murmured.
"Did you just accuse my daughter of this?" He frowned. Eve was not bloodthirsty; she had never even killed. Until her last birthday she had been on a strict blood bag only diet. Most of the time he thought she preferred it to snatch-eat-erase; with blood bags she could be picky about blood types.
"No, Kol," Rebekah pointed to the window. "Eve."
He turned slowly and caught a glimpse of his child through the window. All of the colour seemed to have been leeched from her cheeks.
"Can you handle cleanup?" He didn't wait before leaving the women alone.
He moved outside until he could see her clearly, pacing on shaking legs in front of a stone crypt.
"Sweetheart?" He reached for her arm.
Eve felt fingers graze her elbow and nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around and pressing her spine to the stone wall.
"Eve," Kol held out his hands, "Evie?"
"D-daddy?" She relaxed, tone hardening slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Did you forget who the adult was in this conversation?" He chuckled. "What are you doing here? You're less of a morning person than your mother. Are you alright?"
"Mom's always up early," Eve smiled.
"And she's never happy about it until she's consumed three cups of coffee," he rolled his eyes. "Don't deflect, Eve. What are you doing in the cemetery?"
"Early morning jog?" She shrugged with a hopeful smile.
"In high heels?" His eyes flickered to her hand.
"I took them off," Eve looked down. She used the task of putting on her shoes to avoid his eyes.
"Eve," he lifted her chin. "You inherited many things from me, but you have your mother's eyes and her abysmal ability to tell a lie."
"I'm not lying," her voice came out small. "I did take off my shoes to jog."
"And you're not telling me everything," his brows rose. "I think I'm being very generous in bypassing how you snuck out of the compound. What's wrong? You're shaking like a leaf. And where's your usual partner in crime?"
"I'm right here," Hope stepped out of the tomb. She stood on the top of the steps and still found herself shorter than her uncle.
"Hello, bunny," Kol's eyes flickered over her rumpled shirt and untied shoes. "You're looking particularly rumpled this morning. I assume you had the early morning jog."
"It was more like a lope," she swallowed, pressing her lips together.
"Perhaps you can tell me why my little fox is shaking in her boots."
"How should I know?" Hope shrugged one shoulder. "I was a wolf all night long."
"Don't pull that with me, Hope Andrea Mikaelson," Kol's eyes narrowed. "Hybrids possess awareness when they turn, and you, my dear are a tribrid. Wolf, or not, you knew exactly what was happening."
The girls lowered their eyes.
"You two can talk, or you can spend the next three weeks cleaning the school from top to bottom without magic," he glanced between them.
"Daddy!"
"Do you want to add the compound to the list? Nik's studio would keep you busy for days."
Hope exchanged a pleading look with Eve who shook her head.
"Some creep attacked her," she straightened her spine.
"Hope!"
"We're you really going to hide that?" She rolled her eyes.
"Someone hurt you?" Red flooded Kol's vision. "Who was it?"
"It doesn't matter," she pushed her hair behind her ear. "I handled it."
"You handled it?" His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Hope? How exactly did she handle it?"
"I… I don't know," she pursed her lips when he turned his gaze. "I don't know," she insisted. "It's not like I could hear; every voice sounds like a low rumble when I change."
"I compelled him," Eve reached into her pocket. "I made him give me his daylight ring; then he ran off. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is you snuck out in the dead of night," he took the ring from her hand. "The big deal is that a man attacked you. The big deal is that this man is probably the same one that killed three witches."
"Actually it was a woman that attacked me," Davina poked her head out.
"So he has a cohort," Kol waved dismissively. "The big deal, Eve, is that my baby girl is scared."
"I'm not scared," she crossed her arms. "I kept it together, and now he can't touch me ever again; plus he's stuck in the shadows."
"While I'm proud that you remained calm, that is not the…" Kol trailed off. As he had been starting his rant he had waved his hand and caught sight of the square lapis lazuli framed on either side by glistening pearls. "This was his ring?"
"Yeah," Eve nodded. The further away from the incident she got the better she felt; she just had to remind herself that she was a badass Original hybrid and he was a jerk. "Why?"
"Because," Kol stared at the cold gold in his hand, "this ring belongs to a dead man."
She dragged a silver candlestick along the iron gates, giggling softly at the resounding sound that echoed under the city. Her laughter cut off when she entered the round room.
"You, my friend, are an idiot," she pointed to him with the silver.
"You said the girl was the key to vengeance," he stood, dusting the dirt from his trousers. "You said get her away."
"You could have tried a subtler approach," Ariadne huffed. "Now she knows your face, and if she tells daddy dearest what she knows it's only a matter of time before she knows mine as well."
"You are the one that said we have a limited amount of time!" He pointed.
"You should already know that Stavros," she walked her fingers along the length of his arm as she circled around him, standing on tiptoe to breathe along his neck. "Can't you feel it? That certainty in your bones… the little voice that says this is temporary."
"Don't play your games with me, witch," he snapped. In one move he had her pinned to the wall by her throat.
"I'm not a witch anymore," her fingers flattened over his sternum. "Kol Mikaelson saw to that."
"From what I hear you begged him for it," he looked her up and down.
"I was young," she sneered at her own memory. "Young and in love, and I made a few foolish choices."
"Haven't we all?"
Ariadne and Stavros turned to watch the woman that had somehow snuck up on them. A black ribbon pulled her golden ringlets from her round face, exposing the calculating expression fully.
"You are both fools if you truly believe you can best Kol Mikaelson alone," her skirt swirled around her ankles.
"Are we meant to know who you are?" Stavros's eyes flickered to her Edwardian collar.
"I am your newest friend," she clasped her hands loosely in front of her body. "I am the witch who will help you gain your vengeance against the Originals."
"In my experience trusting a witch is never a good idea," he frowned.
"I could take offence to that," Ariadne scoffed.
"You're no longer a witch, and I for one am prepared to do this without witchy interference."
"Then you will fail," she tilted her head, surveying the vampires.
"It's one vampire," he scoffed. "Personally I'm willing to let what transpired between Kol Mikaelson rest…"
"Only because you don't want another beating," Ariadne blinked up at him innocently.
"Shut up," he growled. "My main grievance is with his lover."
"What a coincidence," she smiled, holding out her hands, "so is mine. What wrong did Elena Gilbert commit against you?"
"She killed me," rage flashed in his eyes, "completely unprovoked."
"I wouldn't say completely unprovoked," Ariadne gave a pointed look to the hand still on her collarbone. "You have a habit of rubbing women the wrong way."
"No one has ever complained."
"Eve Mikaelson did." Ariadne's smile was so sweet it would have given him cavities. She turned her attention to the witch. "Why should I trust you? Why should I let you live rather than draining the life out of you?"
"Are you foolish enough to think you are the only woman he has manipulated over the years?" She stepped towards the pair. "I want to make him… them… suffer, but neither of us can do it without each other. I lack the physical strength to take either of them on, and you two lack the magic."
"How is magic meant to help us?"
"The answer to that is quite simple." She swept into the room. "He is no longer like his siblings; I witnessed his power myself. Kol Mikaelson is like that little trollop… like the child that so easily bested you. None of them may be harmed by conventional methods, but luckily for you I know of some unconventional methods and more than one witch who wants to see him suffer. The blood moon has gifted us with many allies, and brought the Mikaelsons nothing by enemies. If you can lure the daughter away… trick her into retrieving what I need… then I can create a weapon that will bring misery into their household."
Stavros exchanged a look with Ariadne. She broke the look first and focused on the witch.
"We shall need help to get the girl," she tilted her head, "since my cohort blew it. "Luckily for you I know someone perfect for the job. He's an absolute charmer, but I'll need your help to locate him since he went missing centuries ago."
"You believe this man will help?"
"I believe he'll do anything for a daylight ring that you'll gladly provide," her mouth curved upwards. "Do we have a deal? You find him. He gets the girl. She gets what you need. We get our revenge."
"Can he do this in a matter of days?"
"Depends how fast you find him." She unhooked a bracelet from her wrist. "This belonged to him in the sixteenth century."
"Is this one of your former lovers?" Stavros snorted.
"Of course not," she rolled her eyes.
"Then why did he give you a bracelet?"
"Technically he didn't," Ariadne giggled. "I took it from him. It was necklace at the time and completed my newest ensemble. So what do we call you?" She watched the witch.
A pale hand extended. Ariadne dropped the bracelet and met the witch's eyes.
"Mary-Alice."
As you can see it's not just enemies that have returned from the dead. :D There are a few more surprises in store for our favorite dysfunctional family.