A.N.: From here on out, I won't be mentioning the C-word because the whole situation is making me too anxious, and this is our place to escape all that. So, with that said…
How would people feel if I ignored the Rebekah/Marcel 'romantic' plotline? Firstly, I don't think it's healthy at all - Rebekah raised Marcel, was an adopted aunt to him…and they were sleeping…together… Can I pair him with another Original instead?
Just stumbled on a gif of Elijah kissing Hayley - had an aneurism and then a slight tantrum. I will not tolerate that filth on my screen, thankyouverymuch.
Also, can we all agree that season three was perhaps the pinnacle for Damon's best hair days? He looked so good that season.
Inspiration for Gyda's looks are inspired by Lily Collins, and a little bit by Iris Law.
Resurgam
36
Sacrifice
The first body was found by a jogger.
The second, by a team of construction workers.
The third, not for several days, after wildlife had done considerable damage to the corpse.
Each victim had been strung up to a tree or lamppost, strangled. Their throats had also been slit to the bone. And each victim showed signs of blunt-force trauma. A hit to the back of the head so hard it had shattered the skull.
None of these details were leaked to the local newspaper: However, the Council was informed by a very sombre Liz Forbes.
It was her first serial-murder case. Not the first in the town's history. But unique, in the murderer's signature. It was impossible to know what the true cause of death was, because each fatal blow appeared to have been inflicted at almost the exact same time.
Giulia sat, and listened, and Liz passed her some of the crime-scene photographs. She grimaced at the sight of the murder-victims, and wished they hadn't held this meeting over brunch. It seemed insensitive to the victims.
"Now, I hate to ask, as everything has been pretty calm since the summer," Liz said, gazing at her. "Is there any chance this is connected with the Original family?"
Giulia frowned at the photographs. Where their throats had been cut, there was no evidence of hesitation in the cut - the murderer knew what they were doing, as if…they had done it before. But they had been cut, not torn. "Most of the Originals have the mentality that their vampirism and dependence on blood is like a medical condition - like a diabetic needs insulin. Blood-bags are simply more convenient."
"Most of them," Meredith clarified, and Giulia nodded.
"Most of them," she confirmed, thinking of Isak. "But this isn't a typical vampire kill. These bodies show no signs of exsanguination; there was no bloodletting."
"No. And the medical examiner confirmed the amount of blood lost is consistent with them having had their throats cut," Liz said grimly. "They weren't fed on."
"These aren't consistent with vampire kills," Giulia repeated quietly.
"Okay, so, it might not've been vampires…could this have anything to do with what happened to Sheila and Bonnie's children the other week?" Liz asked, glancing around: Sheila was conspicuous in her absence, but what happened to her had hit her pretty hard - she wasn't young by any stretch of the imagination, and was still recovering. Even if Abby hadn't been present, they all knew she had been directly involved in stringing her mother up to be burned alive for stripping Bonnie's magic. That, more than the physical blows, had hit Sheila the hardest.
"I wouldn't rule it out," Giulia said quietly. "This…"
"What?" Meredith glanced over at her.
"This is the Threefold Death," Giulia said. She had studied it for her PhD in Psychology of Occultism. Ritual sacrifices and magic and belief and the links between them all, among other things. Kol…was an expert on sacrificial magic - but then, he was an expert on most forms of magic. The perks of being an immortal; he had eternity to devote to the one thing he loved; magic. "Like…the Lindow Man, the Grauballe Man, the Tollund Man - ancient bodies preserved in peat bogs, after ritual sacrifice."
She received blank looks; but Liz, at least, looked more unnerved at the words 'ritual sacrifice'.
"So, this likely has everything to do with our friends in the Order," Liz sighed heavily, and Giulia nodded solemnly, recalling that, of course, Bill Forbes, Liz's ex-husband and Caroline's father, was the only person they had confirmed absolutely was part of the Order. Even Abby, as much as they suspected, hadn't yet been directly linked with the Order. "What… You said this is the Threefold Death, what…why would witches inflict this kind of ritualised murder on someone as a sacrifice? Why - what are they sacrificing for?"
"Same thing as always," Giulia sighed, shaking her head. "Power."
Tyler had called her yesterday afternoon: His phone had been abuzz with updates when he woke up. The Vieux Carré coven had been slaughtered in the Lafayette Cemetery, moments after Giulia came off the phone with Marcel Gerard. Unfortunately, there were too few survivors, and none of them were talking: No-one knew why the coven had been slaughtered, only that they had.
It was yet another factor Giulia had to consider before she relocated her entire family.
What were the implications?
And were they severe enough that it would impede her decision to move away from Mystic Falls, given the opportunities offered to her in New Orleans?
Was it any worse than Mystic Falls, with the Order circling, babies being kidnapped, a vargulf on the loose and ritualistic murders now being committed?
Kol had worried there had been no signs of the vacuum of power left by the witches' deaths: Nature should have reflected the brutal nature of their deaths, their energy being released into the world…there had been nothing. No sign.
Not until the bodies started to be scattered around Mystic Falls like a macabre treasure hunt.
"Why can't we just kill her?" Damon asked, a few hours later, as Giulia sank down at the little café table outside Ashlyn's bay window. The café was bustling; there was no hint of terror that Mystic Falls had a serial-killer on the loose. The Council was actively trying to avoid mass-hysteria in a small town: It tended to bring out the worst in close communities like this.
"Who?" Giulia asked, tucking her hair over her shoulder, her muscles aching; she had helped finish fitting a kitchen in one of their properties, the last piece in the jigsaw that was reconstructing a house stripped to its bones. They had been waiting on the granite tops; and replacements for the cabinets that had arrived damaged.
"Abby Bennett."
"You're still whining about that?" Giulia frowned, distracted, digging through her purse, and Damon's lips parted, indignant. She used a band to pull her hair into a thick ponytail, adjusting her sunglasses. It was October; but it wasn't miserable. The sun still shone, the days were warm, mild. She was excited to pull out her sweaters. Walks in the changing foliage with Zita and the dogs. Hot chocolate and blankets and cuddles.
"Is it so wrong that I want to protect this town from pure evil?"
"Now you're just being a drama queen," Giulia chided. "Where were you today, anyway?"
"What do you mean? I'm here, aren't I?"
"I meant earlier…you were invited to the Council meeting, you know," she said, glancing over the rim of her reading-glasses as she pulled out her much-abused working journal.
"Sorry, I was…busy," Damon smirked lecherously.
"Yuck."
"I was doing some research, actually," Damon said, eyeing her. "Hey, what did you do with the family's old logging ledgers?"
"The ledgers? They're still in the library - I only removed the rare prints and first editions," Giulia told him. "Rose hasn't banned you from the house, has she?"
"Well - no," Damon said, rolling his eyes in impatience - Giulia's lips twitched. While Rose lived in her attic conversion, and the boys lived in their converted barn, they were no longer residents of the Boarding House. They lived on the property, but were not permitted to reside in the house, and Giulia had had it converted for that very reason. It created much-needed distance between the brothers and their living descendants - herself and Zita, especially. "I just…so you only moved the first editions?"
"And rare prints. It's the wealthy patrons at the House you want to watch - sticky-fingered. They realise the true value of first editions of Alcott and Hemingway," Giulia said.
"I thought you would've sold them to fund the renovation, along with everything else."
"You wound me. Sell my books? I could never," Giulia said, gasping softly, as if truly injured. There were few things she truly held sacred from her childhood home: the contents of the library were one. Not the library itself - not for a very long time, not since Hayley Marshall's pack had tortured her before the fire there, years ago, for information on the moonstone. If not for the work Rose had put into converting the Boarding House, Giulia would have had no reason to ever return to that hateful place. She would have happily set a match to it. "Anyway…the ledgers are all still there."
"Why keep them?"
"The leather bindings look good," Giulia shrugged. "What did you want them for?"
"Just reminiscing," Damon stifled a yawn, and Giulia didn't press, quirking an eyebrow as she glanced at her phone, the screen illuminating with notifications.
"Uh-huh." She didn't buy that for a second.
"You're not going to ask me what I'm up to?"
"Contrary to popular belief, Damon, the world does not revolve around you, your cheekbones or your deplorable taste in women," Giulia chided, and Damon smirked. "I've got too much on my plate at the moment to worry about whatever obsession is keeping you entertained these days. I'm just glad you're not leading Enzo astray."
"Leading - ! Me leading Enzo astray - oh, now I've heard everything!" Damon blurted indignantly, and Giulia laughed to herself.
"So…how are you keeping yourself entertained?"
"Stef's been giving me tutorials on getting the perfect Hero Hair."
Giulia laughed. "It does look good. The length suits you."
"Thank you," Damon smirked. "Yours too."
"Thank you."
"We should do this more often. Bolstering."
"You spent too much time with Lexi. It's affecting you."
"I think you mean it's infecting me. Like some kinda tapeworm," Damon said, crinkling his nose. "Speaking of, how is Zita?"
"I'm not going to ask why your mind goes to my daughter while discussing parasitic worms," Giulia said blithely, sipping her espresso, as Damon smirked.
"Well, I was actually gonna ask if I could take her on a diner-date."
"A diner-date?" Giulia blinked at him, nonplussed.
"Yeah. You know, like we used to do, you and me. I haven't spent any time with the newest generation of Salvatores," Damon said, his smirk softening to a smile. He shrugged nonchalantly. Giulia stared at him. "Stop looking at me like that! You and I had a marvellous time when I used to come into town."
"Yeah…we used to," Giulia said pointedly. Truthfully, she had always looked forward to 'Uncle' Damon's visits - he was cool and irreverent and playful. He would whisk her off to theme-parks and go driving around in his Camaro; they would go to the beach, or the diner, go shopping - do things her introverted father ordinarily wouldn't have done with her. And then…well, they knew what happened next. Everything had changed.
"Then you grew up and got boring," Damon sniffed, and Giulia raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, I'm boring? A midnight tussle in the woods beheading witches doesn't get your blood up anymore?"
"The thrill's fading," Damon smirked. "But Zita - she's pure, undiluted potential." Giulia watched him carefully.
"History will not rhyme with her," she warned him. History never repeated; but sometimes it sounded similar. There were familiar themes, echoes…not identical, but…similar. Her daughter's life, her experiences with the supernatural, would not echo her own: Zita would not be disillusioned so early in her life. Not if she could help it. Giulia had been Zita's age when Stefan attacked her, killing her pet bunny rabbits: She had been seventeen when Stefan and Damon's sibling rivalry had killed her father.
Zita's life would not echo hers.
And that meant there had to be boundaries. She had started with the Boarding House, long before she had any inkling Zita would ever become the best part of her life. The brothers were always welcome back to Mystic Falls: But they were no longer to stay in the family home. They had their own accommodation, and Giulia would preserve it for them…but she would not allow any one of her own descendants to be put in the positions she and her father - and all their ancestors - had been put through. Her father wasn't the only casualty of Stefan and Damon's squabbling in her family.
"Tell me about it; Stef and I are getting along!" Damon smirked, but there was a hardness to his eyes that indicated he heeded her warning.
And she trusted him to hear her, more than she trusted Stefan.
Stefan was in a strange place in his life, drinking human blood and for the first time not a Ripper. He had learned to rein himself in; but how long would that last? She couldn't trust Stefan to keep control of himself.
She could trust that Damon was absolutely in control of his own actions, his own decisions - that when he was a dick, he was a dick because he chose to be, not because the bloodlust drowned every shred of decency he had.
"I'll settle for supervised visitation, if that makes you more comfortable," Damon said sardonically - but with a hint of earnestness. "You and me, and the baby makes three. Diner date. Schedule it in among all your home renovations and impure thoughts about Elijah."
"Good luck fitting in anything around them," Giulia smirked, enjoying how Damon grimaced. "Alright…if it's that important to you, you can take Zita to dinner after preschool one afternoon this week."
"Really?" Damon's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Well, like you said…you do need to spend some time with her," Giulia said softly. Zita was the next generation…and whether or not Giulia would live endlessly, Zita still needed to form relationships with their 'uncles'. Just because Giulia was immortal did not make her invincible. She just hadn't figured out how she could be killed yet. She wasn't in any hurry to, either.
"Really?"
"Yep."
"I'm not on double-secret probation anymore?"
"I'll review your case with the parole board," Giulia joked. "You're not likely to get off double-secret probation if you dismember Abby Bennett and scatter her remains in the town square."
"Football field on a Friday night would have more impact, you're right," Damon nodded.
"Damon."
"What I don't get is why you're not more keyed up about this. Talk about a murder of witches not getting my blood going - you seem bored by it all. That's not the Giulia I remember - the Giulia I've heard stories about even in the desert with Lexi," Damon said, frowning thoughtfully at her, as he doctored his coffee with the contents of his hipflask. Giulia watched him. She knew he had been out drinking with Willem and Gyda; they had been friends, back in the Seventies, she believed. Before Gyda had been daggered; before Joshua Salvatore disappeared.
Joshua was one of Damon's favourites.
She sighed, and decided, then and there: She pulled out her phone, and scrolled through one of her photograph folders, finally finding the picture she wanted. She had taken a picture of an old-looking photograph - of her, with a man she only knew from pictures of her dad's adolescence. There she was, with longer hair, and no noticeable makeup; and Joshua Salvatore, looking barely older than her.
She had found the photographs over a decade ago, when the werewolves had tortured her in the library. Magic, and her own blood, had unsealed a hidden compartment under the stairs in the Boarding House, where boxes and trunks had been hoarded, full of impossible things Giulia hadn't looked at in years - it was too confusing; and after her experience with Fabian, she knew that sometimes information was more of a burden than a blessing. It had certainly proven confusing for her. Because she had found the trunks and boxes at the age of seventeen: And she was clearly older, closer to the age she was now, in the photographs. A cache of impossibilities.
Giulia sighed, and showed Damon her phone-screen. He blinked, focused on the screen, and his lips parted, his eyes - so vividly like Giulia's own mercurial silver-grey eyes - enigmatic, expressive. Absolutely nonplussed.
"That's…"
"Until you can tell me why I found photographs of me with Joshua Salvatore, hidden by magic in the Boarding House, the only person who may have any answers is off-limits," Giulia warned him.
"That's - that's Joshua."
"Yes."
"Joshua disappeared. I know - your dad enlisted me to find him. Didn't come back to town for years, not 'til you were on the way, 'coz I couldn't find hide or hair of him," Damon said, almost indignantly. "You found this in the Boarding House?"
"Yes," Giulia said, not wanting to go into the details, or reveal just how much she had discovered in those boxes and trunks. Nothing that made any sense; she had stopped looking through them years ago, when it became apparent that…there was a mystery to be uncovered, but it wasn't time for her to unveil the truth just yet.
Years ago, Sheila had transcribed a message left with the trunks and boxes, a message that appeared only when Giulia's blood unlocked whatever spell had protected them: The message she had left there, using magic - a time-stamp, an occult symbol, and a name.
It was a message for her to pass on to someone else. And hopefully the time-stamp would make sense to them when she did. But…when should she pass on the message? It was a time-stamp, but not a date…
She had decided she would drive herself crazy overthinking the mysteries of those trunks and boxes. And she wanted more from her life than just one unanswered riddle and a box of junk. So she had stored everything in the attic of her house, and hadn't thought twice about it…not until her reflection started to resemble that version of herself in the photographs.
But it didn't make sense, still.
Why would she tell Kol a specific time?
What would the occult symbol mean to him? She knew it was some kind of a mystical key, almost. But what could he do? If this was connected with Joshua…Kol had no connection to him; it was Gyda and Willem who had been friends with Joshua all those years ago. It didn't make any sense… And her experience with Fabian, well…he gave out nuggets of information like a miser with gold coins; too much knowledge was dangerous. And life was too tricky - information he doled out could change in a heartbeat; a decision made, an accident…the future unravelled as quickly as it was woven, sometimes a single thread came loose, other times the entire loom set alight… It was ever-changing…and Fabian was ever-knowing due to the consistency of his visions over an extended lifetime.
She trusted that she knew enough, so that when the time came things would click into place. She had asked Fabian about it, of course…he had advised to let the trunks and boxes alone, until it all came together - because it would; but only if she let things unfold as they were meant to. There was no forcing such things.
So, she waited. Sometimes she wondered. And recently, she got agitated if she saw Kol, wondering… She caught sight of herself in the window's reflection, and couldn't help wonder…
With everything with the Originals and the Order, these murders, with Kol in town…
When was the other shoe going to drop?
She was sat at her drafting table days later, focused on the architectural drawings for the Victorian place Caroline had lusted after, with the cupola, listening to music and distracting herself while she waited for Damon to return with Zita from their diner-date. Her phone rang, and Liz's face smiled back at her from the screen. Liz didn't beat about the bush: "There's been another victim."
Liz wanted a consultation at the hospital morgue. As a published expert and lecturer in the field of Psychology of the Occult, Giulia had a unique understanding of sacrificial killings tied with magic ritual - the theory of them, anyway: Of course, there was no such thing as magic.
Meredith would meet her at the morgue. "Let me, um… I need to go and talk to someone first. See if they have any insight." She ended the call, glanced around for Enzo - remembering he was working a shift in the kitchens at the Boarding House - and dashed upstairs to get dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, she knocked on the door, listening to the subtle strains of music within; several of the windows were illuminated, and she heard chatter and laughter inside. Strange, considering everything. Anyone would assume this place would start to take on an aspect of a Supernatural set, eerie and spine-tingling with suspect blood-stains everywhere… The parterres were meticulously maintained, the Bentley parked outside was pristine, and the scent of fresh flowers and baking welcomed her as the door opened.
Gyda's young face dimpled, her dark eyes twinkling, as she leaned in the doorway, peeling the wrapper from a cupcake decorated with chopped peanuts. Her pixie-cut was growing out, and suited her even more; her lips were dark, matte plum, making her eyes glint. "Giulia! We didn't expect you."
"Truthfully I didn't think I'd be stopping by," she admitted. "Something's come up. Is Kol here?" Gyda stepped back, opening the door wider, to admit her; she bit off half the cupcake, the scent of marshmallow hitting Giulia's nose.
"He's not; he and Isak went into Richmond for a drink," Gyda said, arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow that condemned them in an instant. "We've been binging Bake-Off. Lagertha needed a break from Supernatural. Correction: we needed Lagertha to take a break from Supernatural. And of course, the treats we make help soothe the urge to slaughter innocents."
"It's funny you say that," Giulia said, and Gyda frowned.
"What has happened?" asked a rich, masculine voice, and as a smirk appeared on Gyda's face, Giulia glanced up to the top of the staircase. Elijah frowned concernedly at her, at the manila envelope in her hand. And then she got distracted by the V neckline of his t-shirt; and the way his dark-wash jeans hugged his thighs…
She licked her lips, and gave herself a mental shake. "There, um…" She sighed, and handed Elijah the manila file as he reached the foot of the stairs. Gyda's cupcake disappeared, and she licked peanut-butter marshmallow frosting from her lips as she peered over her father's shoulder to look at the photographs he unveiled as he opened the folder. "Three bodies were found last week…another one turned up today…"
Elijah frowned at the images; Gyda's lips parted, her eyes widening, and she glanced up at her father, assessing his reaction, before glancing at Giulia.
"These occurred last week?"
"Kol was worried there was no backlash," Giulia said quietly. "I think the witches were sacrifices."
"Why bring this to Kol?"
"For his insight," Giulia said quietly. "There is no-one in the world more well-versed in magic than him."
"This happened last week, why bring this to our attention now?"
"Another body was found," Giulia said. "Liz just called me; she's asked me to go to the morgue, she wants my opinion, with my PhD in Psychology of the Occult, you know…perhaps I can get a reading of the killer by analysing the body… I was hoping Kol might provide some clarity, at least explain this to Liz in layman's terms. Try and figure out how to narrow down the perpetrator."
"You are headed there now?"
"Yes," Giulia nodded, glancing at Elijah. The cogs were whirring behind his dark eyes.
"May I escort you?" he asked politely. Giulia blinked, as Gyda gave her father a careful look.
"Of course," she said, and Elijah nodded; he handed her the file, and disappeared, returning as he pulled a tailored blazer on, tucking his car-keys into his jeans pocket.
"Gyda, your Genoise is a moment from burning," he murmured, and Gyda lifted her dainty nose to the air, cursed, and disappeared from sight, leaving nothing but the scent of freshly-baked cupcakes in her wake. Elijah watched his daughter go, then caught Giulia's eye. "Where is Zita this evening?"
"She's out with Damon," she said, still uncertain how she felt about it; she had met Damon outside Zita's preschool, transferred the booster-seat to his Camaro, and watched, more than a little bit stunned - and ashamed to be so surprised Damon was capable of sweetness and consideration - when he helped Zita climb into the car, and buckled her booster-seat safely, asking how her day had gone. She had heard Damon's laugh when Zita squawked indignantly at him turning his stereo down - it was The Ramones.
Zita loved 'Cretin Family'.
Elijah raised his eyebrows interestedly. "Diner date," she clarified. "He used to do the same with me, when I was her age… She'll have to get to know them sooner or later." His lips twitched knowingly, as he flicked his eyes over her; he opened the front-door and gestured for Giulia to go before him.
"Well, let's keep you distracted with brutal murders," Elijah said, and Giulia nodded.
"Please do," she said, and he pulled the door to behind him. "How are you finding teaching?"
"Oh, every day is unique. Today I put Gyda in detention."
"Really?"
"She wanted to scalp a girl's high-ponytail when she claimed Miley Cyrus is the queen of punk-rock."
"That's fair."
"I thought so, too," Elijah remarked, as Giulia unlocked the car, and she smiled. "Still, it wouldn't do to let the girls settle their disputes like Arya Stark."
"Winter is coming," Giulia said, and Elijah chuckled, flashing his teeth as he smiled. "Well…I wish I was in your lessons."
"I'm rather glad you're not; I wouldn't be able to concentrate at all."
"That would be half the fun," Giulia grinned, and Elijah chuckled. "But you're still enjoying it?"
Elijah nodded, smiling softly. "Yes. More than I thought I would. It makes a refreshing change."
"Life gets very dull without challenges," Giulia murmured, driving away from the witch-house, and Elijah settled himself in the passenger-seat so he was angled toward her.
"How have you been?" he asked gently. "We have not truly spoken since the night of Sheila's would-be execution."
Giulia sighed. "I've been alright," she said quietly. "Just…spending time with Zita and Enzo…Spencer, on occasion. Not nearly as often as he used to come over, which…is good for him, I guess…"
"You miss him," Elijah said succinctly, and Giulia nodded miserably; there was no denying it. Ever since Hayley had been forcibly ejected from her and Mason's house, he and Spencer had been finding their groove, learning how to be a family together, without the threat of Hayley, and without Giulia's intervention. It said a lot that Spencer was now excited to go home with his dad.
"I do. We had a fun afternoon the other day. We're decorating Spencer's box-kart for Zita to use on Halloween… Word to the wise; don't mix pasta and polymer clay. You end up with some funky tagliatelli."
"Noted," Elijah grinned. Then he groaned. "Halloween."
"Uh-oh. You're pouting, why?" Giulia asked, smiling.
"Gyda loves Halloween. She alone of us all is youthful enough and enjoyed the last century long enough to appreciate modern Halloween culture in this country," Elijah said grimly, and Giulia smiled.
"You'd better perk up, or I'll make a call to Cara and Chocolat to put you in the party mood."
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would… You know…it was the weekend of Halloween when we met for the very first time."
"The red dress," Elijah said softly, glancing over at Giulia, who got a little thrill. He hadn't forgotten. She still had the dark red long-sleeved suede Anna Sui mini-dress with laser-cut detailing that she had been wearing the first time they met. "The lingerie you wore to Rocky Horror is seared into my memory." She bit her lip, smiling as she glanced over at Elijah. He caught her eye.
"It feels like a different life," she admitted softly. "B.Z."
"Before Zita," Elijah guessed, and she nodded.
"My drunken, misspent youth."
"How I adored it," Elijah sighed contentedly, his smile luxurious. Giulia grinned. Without even realising what she was doing, she reached up to stroke the back of her finger against his jaw affectionately.
She missed him. She did. So much it felt like permanent heartburn, almost crippling. He was here… For the first time in years, he was here, and she was the one who was distant…
They had to park a fair walk from the entrance to the hospital; Liz met them at the entrance to the E.R., wearing her badge and a frown. She wasn't alone.
"Hello, Giulia," Isobel smiled softly, her eyes sweeping up and down Elijah.
"Isobel. You were called in to consult, too?"
"One PhD is good; two is better," Liz sighed, and glanced at Elijah.
"Good evening, Sheriff Forbes," he said politely. "Forgive the intrusion. Giulia showed me one of the crime-scene photographs from the first murders… Perhaps I may be of assistance."
"I'd be glad for any help," Liz said, nodding, and led the way into the hospital; Meredith met them, looking grim, and admitted them downstairs to the morgue. The temperature dropped, and Giulia stifled a shiver as the scent of death overrode the stench of antiseptic and disease lingering like a cloud over the upper floors. It was eerie, down here. Soulless. The coroner glanced up, eyed the three guests with Liz, and raised his eyebrows.
"I'm assuming you're all comfortable with dead bodies," he said, glancing at Giulia; he was on the Council.
"This was the fourth victim?" Giulia asked, as the coroner went to the chiller, opening one of the drawers.
"As far as we're aware," Liz said, and the coroner excused himself for a cup of coffee in the cafeteria while they examined the body. Liz handed out latex gloves, and Elijah glanced at Giulia as they tugged them on.
"Are you getting déjà vu?" she asked, with a grim smile; he nodded, adjusting the gloves.
"It's been a long time since I scrubbed up last," he admitted.
"Well, you were wonderful with Spencer that night," Giulia said softly. It felt disrespectful to speak above a murmur in this place. She hated hospitals. Morgues were even worse. They reminded her far too much of Augustine. "I can imagine you were very calming for your patients."
Liz lifted the cloth, revealing the face and shoulders of a teenage girl. Even pale, bloodless, dead…she had to have been vivaciously pretty in life.
It was a shame. It was a damn shame. And a waste.
And she looked…so young.
Liz caught her eye across the dead girl's body. "She…she looks the same age as you when you…" She trailed off; Giulia's heart burned, as if a stake had been shoved through it, remembering… It was Giulia's eighteenth birthday the night she had been part of Klaus' ritual - a sacrifice ritual to lift an ancient spell; the night she had taken her fate into her own hands - more accurately, taken a stake into her own hands and driven it into her heart before Klaus had the chance.
She had changed, and she had burned; she had died, and been reborn.
She had become what she now was.
Barely older than this girl lying before them. Things had turned out so differently for her; this could very well have been where it had all ended, kept in a people-refrigerator to be diced up by a stranger in the name of science. She shivered, and pushed away thoughts of Enzo, and Augustine…
She sighed, and adjusted the gloves, stifling a wince as she peered closer.
"The other victims, Liz, you said the coroner confirmed they were strangled?" she asked, frowning closely at the girl's neck. She indicated a ligature mark on the girl's throat, just above the clean slash that had opened her throat. She retrieved the photographs of the first murder victims, examining the marks. "This isn't consistent - this…mark is indicative of a garrotte. You use a crank to tighten a noose… This wasn't…personal, whoever killed her wanted to put some distance between them and their victim."
"Her throat has been slit open," Isobel said softly. "That's not personal?"
"It's brutal - and it's effective…but not personal," Giulia said quietly. She tilted her head, wincing at the injury she had smelled before she could see it; with utmost respect for the dead girl, Giulia turned her head to show a gaping hole in the back of her skull. "What's this?"
"Is that…?" Isobel grimaced.
"Brain-matter," Giulia said matter-of-factly, and Liz grimaced; Giulia peered closer. The wound was blunt-force trauma, but it had been inflicted with something with sharp edges.
"Of course it is," Isobel grimaced.
"This…looks like a blade, she wasn't just bashed over the head, this was clinical and efficient…" Giulia said quietly.
"Any of these injuries would have killed her," Isobel said sadly.
"Someone seriously wanted this poor girl dead," Liz added grimly.
"Elijah, do you…know what kind of weapon could inflict this kind of wound?" Giulia asked, glancing up. She straightened up as she saw the look on his face. He wasn't looking at her neck, or the wound to the back of her skull. His eyes were on her face, colourless in death. And his face was pale, his expression stark, his eyes shuttered. And realisation set in, her heart sinking into her stomach… "Elijah…are you… Do you know her?"
"Oh my god…" Liz breathed, blanching, and reached to cover the girl's face with the sheet. "I didn't even think… I'm so sorry."
"Her name is Chrissy," Elijah said softly, his voice so soft Giulia could barely hear the hoarseness to it. It was the way his eyes glinted, the way he bit his lip. The way he didn't look away from her face, even as Liz covered her. "Third period, straight after morning break. She is always on time…always smiles and says good morning, has her notebook ready, doesn't look at her phone, she…is engaged in our discussions and helps others, she's articulate in her writing and…keeps going through the book-corner for new reading material… She brought in cupcakes for her birthday, and made sure to bring me one… She is...what does Zita call Gyda?"
Giulia smiled warmly, but it felt devastating. "A sunflower person."
"She was a sunflower person," Elijah said softly. He took a breath, forced a half-smile, and cleared his throat. "It looks…it looks as though the puncture wound to her skull may have been created by a small axe."
"An axe," Liz sighed, her eyes widening subtly. Elijah nodded, and Giulia stepped aside so he could take a closer look, carefully peeling the cover from Chrissy's face. As he examined the head-wound, Giulia carefully peeled the covers from Chrissy's arms, examining… There were no defensive wounds. Nothing to indicate there had been any struggle whatsoever.
As if, perhaps…there hadn't.
As if perhaps…it hadn't been a human who had committed the murders. Not a witch…
She wished Willem was here, to teach her how to glean more from the body through harnessing her senses… What was she missing, because she relied so much on her eyesight, and her intellect?
What she could tell Liz, for certain, just from examining Chrissy's body, compared to the photographs of the first three victims? "She wasn't killed by the same person."
"How can you know that?" Liz asked, startled by her declaration. Giulia was no Sherlock, but she was excellent at reading the signs.
"The garrotte," Giulia said quietly. "The first three victims were strangled by hand. There was an intimacy there, as if the murderer had no qualms about feeling the life leave their bodies, perhaps even enjoyed the struggle… Chrissy was strangled using a garrotte; it's more removed. The first three were…displayed…their head-wounds were messy, as if the murderer used whatever was at hand to bludgeon them. But again, someone thought about how to inflict such a severe wound without actually having to touch her… See these…the first three victims had their throats slit from left to right, as if the killer stood behind them and drew the blade across their throats, cutting to the bone… This wound inflicted on Chrissy was effective, but not nearly as vicious in its execution. It was precise, methodical. Detached. And she has no defensive wounds… Perhaps whoever did this to her didn't want to have to hear her screams, didn't enjoy what they were doing…"
"Who wouldn't fight against an attack like this?"
Giulia held Liz's eye. Someone who was compelled, Giulia thought.
The Order did not recruit vampires.
But a vampire could compel their prey not to struggle, perhaps even compel them not to feel anything as they were brutally murdered.
So was this the Order's doing? Or was it someone else, using the Order's presence in town as a diversion? Someone who had recruited vampires to do their bidding. Or were vampires themselves.
"I was wrong," she said softly. "Perhaps these were vampire kills."
"Perhaps they were," Elijah agreed, leaning low over Chrissy to frown at the deep incision across her throat. "But even so, they were not killed for the sake of sport. And you may yet wish these had been merely vampire kills."
"Why do you say that?" Liz asked grimly, looking like he was about to ruin her entire year.
"These people were sacrifices," Elijah said softly. He glanced at Giulia. "They were given the Threefold Death."
"But to what purpose?" Isobel asked softly. She had a PhD in Parapsychology; but she was a research expert, and had focused on vampires… Not witchcraft.
Elijah shook his head, gently locking Chrissy back inside the refrigerator. "Had we not destroyed a coven of witches only last week, I would have blamed them for this atrocity… And their motivation would have been very simple: The annihilation of my family."
"But you killed the coven," Liz said.
"We killed a coven. There is no telling how many members of the Order remain scattered throughout town, laying low and biding their time," Elijah said softly. "But I believe Giulia is correct; these were perhaps vampire kills. A vampire can compel their victims to complaisance with such ease…there is no scent of terror clinging to Chrissy as you would usually smell on a murder victim's corpse."
"Terror leaves a scent?" Liz asked curiously.
"Everything leaves a trace," Elijah said quietly, raising his eyes to Liz, his expression sombre. "Have…Chrissy's parents been notified?"
"They have," Liz said softly. Elijah nodded, and started to peel off his gloves.
"If you will excuse me… Giulia, you needn't wait for me, I shall find my own way home."
"Elijah," she said softly, but he gave her a miserable half-smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek tenderly, and strode out of the morgue, leaving Liz looking guilt-stricken, and Isobel pressing her fingertips to her brow.
"Do you have any idea who they're targeting, or why?" she asked Liz.
"The only connection between the first three victims was that they were all in some way involved in the Armed Forces. One was an Army Reserve, the second was in ROTC, and the third was a retired Naval officer."
"Warriors," Giulia said quietly. She glanced at the refrigerator where Chrissy now rested.
"What's that?"
"They were all warriors. From…my research, what I read…when you sacrifice humans in magic rituals, you sacrifice certain kinds of people for…certain attributes, certain traits, to channel… The first three were warriors. You might also sacrifice learned men, or guardians, or healers, or virgins, depending on why you were sacrificing anyone at all. What do you need, that their deaths could provide you - why do you need them?"
"What Elijah said…about him thinking the witches would want to annihilate his family… Do you think it's connected to them?" Liz asked. "Innocent people are being slaughtered for power to fight the Originals?"
"It's possible," Giulia said, wincing. "But then, we also killed those witches, and…there should have been backlash from that energy being released into the world… There wasn't. I…think the witches were sacrifices, the first sacrifices…someone may be harnessing the power of a dozen dead witches, as well as the power from these sacrifices…"
"There's no chance you can tell me definitively Bill wasn't involved in this, is there?" Liz asked despondently. She had taken it as a personal insult that her husband had joined a hate cult set on eradicating the one part of their daughter she couldn't change, her vampire nature - ironically, what had brought out the very best in Caroline, when everyone expected vampires to be the very worst versions of themselves.
"No… I'm sorry, Liz… I can't," Giulia said grimly. "Any more than I can promise Abby Bennett may not be the witch storing up all this power." Liz sighed heavily.
There was a reason Abby Bennett hadn't been in the woods that night, with her mother and granddaughters. A reason she was trying to re-forge old connections in town - to avoid suspicion she was back in town for anything more than limited restaurant experiences and rejected offers to form a relationship with the daughter she had abandoned.
She sighed, stripping off her gloves, regretful that she had left Liz with more questions than answers.
But she was certain there was more than one person committing the sacrificial killings. And they potentially wielded compulsion.
One killer who seemed to relish the struggle, the brutality, enjoyed the deaths - staged their bodies.
One killer who wanted distance; got the job done, but took no joy in it.
It was a nasty thought, and it was more than just in the back of her mind as she made her way back to her car. There was no sign of Elijah; and Isobel stayed behind to talk to Liz about potential risks to Matt, Elena and Grayson if the murders continued. She climbed into her car, and drove downtown to find Damon, entrusted to treating her daughter for the afternoon.
A.N.: So, I confess, I was heavily inspired by Teen Wolf for this part of the plot, the Threefold Death sacrifices. I miss Teen Wolf - early-seasons, before it got too convoluted and weird.
