Maxine's POV
"Gloria."
Silence.
After Stefan's departure hours prior, the Original siblings and I piddled in the dark, busy nightlife streets of Chicago. We explored local shops and even made a pit stop at a bar — this time not Gloria's, though I had come to the conclusion that many bars were given the title of people's real names. Ultimately, the night had struck twelve and Cinderella had to return home.
At the end of our rope, Klaus, Rebekah and I had retired to the warehouse, a place I'd begun to feel accustomed to. This time, we expected our George Harrison in attendance as well. You see, Stefan is, in many conspicuous manners, quite similar to the overlooked Beatles guitarist. The vampire and his counterpart are each reserved and cynical in their own means. Just as George had never been disinclined to make his dislike of the overbearing perfectionist, also known by many as Paul, apparent, Stefan never resists the opportunity to take one more dig at Klaus.
Do you see what I did there?
Klaus may have his flaws. In fact, Klaus has many. But, Klaus is the true leader. John wrote the iconic lyrics to many of the Beatles songs, but it was Paul that composed defining elements. Klaus can be brash and theatrical, don't even get me started on petulant, but he is the one that makes decisions. Of course, that means that Rebekah is John. Brilliant in a fashion that she is unable to conceal, despite advances she takes to pretend she is anything but. On occasion, Rebekah is aloof, just as she is always witty. She has bite, a bite that is so similar and yet so different from her sibling's. Klaus and Rebekah each have such opposing personalities, yet that is what makes them work so well together collaboratively and spiritually in their scheming.
Sometimes.
So that must mean I'm Ringo, right? Come on, did you really think I wouldn't call myself the favorite? At the end of the day, I'm the glue holding this Popsicle house together. Without me, Rebekah wouldn't have a girl to gossip about Stefan with and although more than apparent, Klaus' volatile tendencies would have, by now, reaped another innocent life. Stefan... well, I'm unsure of just how much my presence effects him. There is no dynamic, like the ones I experience with the Original siblings. In fact, I serve as more of an annoyance to the vampire than anything.
Of course, I don't think Stefan will be having an affair with my mate anytime soon, so no scuffles should readily transpire between the two of us.
When Stefan had been nowhere in sight, Rebekah had taken it upon herself to diligently await his much-too-late appearance, which left Klaus to do the only thing he knew how: search. Wait for Stefan to possibly show or go snuff him out? What to do...
It wasn't all that hard to take up company with Klaus. Together we had set off toward Gloria's, deciding a pit stop couldn't hurt. Klaus hoped that just shy of half a day later, the witch had narrowed down the location of the significant necklace by now.
Instead, Klaus and I happened to stumble upon a startlingly deserted bar. Tables and chairs are pushed to the fence post, making room for what appears to be a sacrificial ritual. Enkindled candles form the circumference of a circle, housing a lonely table in the center.
More than fifty candles are splayed across the wooden flooring, ranging in various colors — blue, white, red, green. Many of the candles have been lit for such a long period of time that the only thing remaining is melted wax crusted to the floor, the flame having been snuffed out upon merging with the end of the wick.
The multiple colors of candles intrigue my brain into a rather fond and righteous suspicion. Just what has Gloria been up to in here?
Red candles bestow impulsive energy, dynamism, and unnatural ability. They invoke powerful vigor in many different ways — general, dynamic, receptive, even sexual. Red candles are quite commonly used for sudden strength before practicing black magic, defending the witch from psychic attacks and equipping them with confidence and determination. Candles stained red are always more in touch with the physical world and can put one in touch with the power of flesh, bringing about bloodshed at the hands of the witch who burns it.
Green candles, on the other hand, are quite the opposite of their complementary partner, red. Green candles are used in spells for growth, fertility, and rejuvenation. Typically, they invoke balance and harmony. Other times, green candles are used to protect a spell or renew it for perpetuation. When used improperly or for darker purposes, the innocent green candles that represent mother nature can turn the tides and bring about sickness, disease, and disharmony.
Blue candles, much like green, are used for peaceful intentions. It is an emotional color, used for soothing and understanding. Prophetic dreams are birthed by the burning of blue candles. Occasionally, confidence and power become minced with altruism and idealism. Witches who burn a blue candle seek the discovery of truth and justice, but like green, a witch who uses a blue candle for the wrong intentions will overwhelm their subject and create despair.
Gloria definitely knows more about magic than just 'herbs and spells'. No, she knows much, much more. As I continue my inspection of the abandoned bar, I stumble upon — quite literally — two glass goblets. My foot nearly topples one of the glasses over, almost knocking the liquid inside over the rim. The goblets sit on each opposing side of the table, right at the top — or is it the bottom? If my strong nose is correct, I smell blood wafting below it, slowly become stale and oxidized.
What the hell has that witch been up to?
"Gloria!" I hear Klaus yell the witch's name this time, voice thick with impatience. If there is anything Klaus despises more than shopping, it is being kept waiting. The hybrid runs through every room of the bar in search of the missing witch. As he trails toward the private rooms conserved for employees only, his harsh words begin to fade with distance. Choosing to tune him out, I bend down, picking up the blood-filled goblet my foot had tapped. I lift the contents to my nose, sniffing deeply.
Vampire blood.
Dipping one pale, clammy index finger into the dark liquid, I swirl the thickening substance around before removing my forefinger and rubbing my thumb against it. Immediately, my thumb's pad becomes saturated and stained. I pull my hand closer to my face and bring the drenched forefinger to my nose. The scent is fairly sweet, with a lingering hint of death.
Typical vampire blood.
So Gloria has been performing black magic on a vampire, huh? That is, assuming that I'm as good of an analyst and an observer as I think. You know, my conscious suddenly begins, one locator spell with this blood and you can find the vampire, granted there isn't a protection spell over their head.
Even more abruptly than my inner voice had spoken, a thought crosses my mind. What if this blood is Stefan's? Refusing to allow myself more pondering on the matter, I swerve the thought out of my mind, categorizing it as ludicrous.
But then, once a thought enters my brain, it never leaves, not until the unsolved is overthought to the point of tiresome satisfaction.
Why the hell would Stefan come here alone and why the hell would Gloria be extracting his blood? Sure, the blood I still rub between my fingers can be another vampire's. And sure, Gloria might not have done this. For all Klaus or I knew, Stefan and Gloria could have no part in the mess I stand between.
But no amount of persuasion can tell my gut to feel differently. My brain might like to pretend, but my heart knows better. Stefan and Gloria played a part in this. Both of them are missing.
My finger hovers under my nose a second time, my nostrils taking a whiff. There is just something that I can't recognize. Another sniff. When thinking on the matter further, I realize the unfamiliar scent accompanying the already present smell is presumably the familial bloodline of this vampire peaking through. Many times, people have distinct scents to their blood, particular to their family. It is nothing unusual. I bring my finger to my nose once again, preparing to inhale one last sniff for good measure.
Instead, the goblet is pushed from my hand, breaking upon coming into contact with the floor. The almost coagulated blood slips from the glass' confines, smearing in a small puddle. My other hand is pulled away from the proximity of my face by a bruising grip, one I'm accustomed all too well to by now.
"Just what do you think you're doing," Klaus snaps at me. With a tight hold on each of my forearms, he shakes my body in no particular direction as if it will force my mouth to open and answer him. Pushing him off of me, I sneer, "Relax. I was just sniffing. I thought I might be able to perform a locator spell."
Confused, Klaus says, "And just why would you want to do that?" He throws his hands in the air as if exasperated with the unreasonable thought. Rolling my eyes at his accusatory tone, I grab a nearby, most likely dirty rag before answering him. "Because," I begin, exaggeratedly drawing out the word before continuing, "it's vampire blood."
Through the veil covering his eyes, I see the cogs inside Klaus' head begin turning, but rather than pursuing the direction I wish to take, Klaus says, "It doesn't matter. We don't have time for this." Klaus thrusts a finger directly at the broken glass and spilled blood, saying it is that, which is 'this' we don't have time for. Without waiting for me, Klaus bee-lines toward the ajar entrance slash exit of the bar, out into the midnight air.
With no choice but to follow my mate onto the fairly empty street, I practically run to keep close with his long strides. Where is Klaus going? Is he just going to give up? "Okay, Klaus... I'm just pinning the tail on the donkey here, but I have this bad feeling about Stefan," I confess to the hybrid, reluctantly so, which is a mistake I realize once Klaus turns on me abruptly. I run into his broad chest and meet his glare with fearful eyes. I've never been more terrified of Klaus than I am now.
"What did you say?" Klaus asks, well, seemingly just asks, but borderline demands. His voice holds no room for hesitation or silence. Answers now, is what he really meant to say.
I sigh beneath the weight of being forced into explaining but looking into Klaus' deep blue eyes, I understand that he is willing to listen and that the space between us is tight with expectancy. "Klaus, he's suspicious. More than fucking suspicious, " I scoff. "Listen, I understand that you've known him longer than I have, way longer than you've known me. But I see the wary side-eye glances you give to him. You don't trust him. Neither does Rebekah. This morning, when Gloria was performing that spell, his body practically wafted unease into my sensory glands." As I speak, the anger dissipated from Klaus' face, switching from anger to contemplation. "I know that blood I quite literally had my fucking hands on is vampire blood. As far as I know, the only vampires Gloria has been in contact with are you, Rebekah, and Stefan. The only person not with you and me for a considerably long amount of time is Stefan. Come on, Klaus. You can't tell me that 'writing a name on a wall' takes that long."
Silence rings clear. The loud cabs and bustling nightlife around are nothing but background noise. All I hear is the sound of my mate's steady breathing, a sound I hone in to keep myself grounded. Resignation settles Klaus' stressed face, worry lines fading into permanent wrinkles.
I reach out for his hands, holding his big palms inside my own. "Klaus. I know what I feel. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Stefan and Gloria aren't a part of... whatever that was in there. But I am not wrong about what I feel inside. You have to trust me, Klaus. The Stefan that's with you? It's just a façade. I don't have to know him to know that."
The sincerity in my voice surprises even myself. I don't express my emotions. I don't convince people who don't want to believe me. I don't put effort into a person I don't care about. I've never had a person to try for. But Klaus? If Klaus, this man who I have known less than a week, this man that is a stranger I am bound to doesn't believe me after I put my heart on my sleeve, what will I do then?
I watch Klaus, willing him to say something, anything. But he says nothing. I feel his big hands squeeze my own in... reassurance? Comfort? Klaus simply lets go of my right hand and turns around, beginning to walk down the street once again, this time at a normal pace, guiding me behind him.
He's accepted my words. He's believed them, believed in me.
So lost in observing Klaus, I don't notice us approaching the warehouse. Storming inside the muted room, Klaus pulls away from me and his antsy composure returns full-force. "Gloria's gone. She's cleared out. We need to find a new witch immediately," Klaus absentmindedly informs Stefan and Rebekah.
Cleared out? That's one way of putting her disappearance.
In his haste, Klaus doesn't notice as immediately as I do that the atmosphere is tense. Just like earlier, Stefan appears alarmed and awkward. Rebekah, on the other hand, is quite notably miffed, obviously upset with Stefan. Finally pausing his tirade to notice the awkwardness hanging in the air like a bad smell, Klaus looks from his sister to his friend.
"What's going on?" the hybrid demands.
Rebekah takes it upon herself to provide her brother with an answer. "Something's wrong. He was asking about Mikael. He's not with us, Nik. I can sense it."
And that is the straw that brakes the camel's back. One person suspicious of Stefan is alarming. But two?
"She's wrong," Stefan instantly objects, beginning to walk in Klaus' direction. Bad move. "Klaus," Stefan trails off, at a loss for words.
Rather than give Stefan the time to find those words and entertain us with empty defenses, Klaus runs over to the traitorous vampire and snaps his neck. Stefan's body slumps sadly on the ground and Klaus steps back, almost as if he is disgusted to even have touched the vampire.
Klaus, without turning to Rebekah or me says, "Get in the truck. We have a long ride ahead of us."
———————————————————
Mystic Falls, Virginia — August 31, 2010
The last few days of my life have been something I can only classify akin to hell.
Just like any other siblings do, the Mikaelson's had ripped out — not literally, thank God — each other's throat every waking moment they spent together, despite their adult age. Bickering has been just one of the many luxuries I've been spared of experiencing by being an only child. Virginia is only an eleven-hour trip from Illinois, but with some time — over a few day's worth — to spare, the short trip extended over a four day period.
Klaus had briefly mentioned getting his 'affairs in order' before our departure from Chicago. I assumed that his 'affairs' alluded to the coffins belonging to his other siblings and mother. I had only questioned Klaus of the identity of those confined within the wooden boxes once and while it may have only expanded on my insatiable curiosity, it did not embolden my confidence to ever ask again.
With all-too-frequent stops to catch up on sleep or grab a bite, in the Original's case that was literal, we barely made it to Virginia before lunchtime today. Klaus still continues to use me as his personal blood bag rather than nibbling on strangers, not that I mind his favoritism all that much.
As of this morning, however, the four of us supernaturals had arrived at our destination: Mystic Falls, Virginia. Much to my knowledge, Klaus is only keeping Stefan around for a little longer, playing his own little game of revenge, payback for the secrecy Stefan refuses to acknowledge.
As of right now? As of right now, the moon hangs high while I stand in the one place I thought I'd never walk through again: Mystic Falls High School
I know, originality is such a big thing in our town.
Or...what was my town. I don't have any ties to the one-trick-pony-town now, so as I'm sure you can guess, my presence here is all Klaus' doing, something about a doppelgänger he is sure is alive.
Together, my mate and I stand on the other side of a set of navy blue steel doors, waiting — as Klaus likes to phrase it — for the arrival of none other than Elena Gilbert, someone I never thought I'd hear of again. Of course, with Stefan constantly near I am continuously reminded often of his, what I now know to be, previous relationship with the girl.
Speaking of Stefan, Klaus had made the decision to leave the vampire behind with Rebekah in the large moving truck, knowing it is the last fucking place the Salvatore would voluntarily choose to be. Sadly, the worst punishment he's received for his indiscretions has been Rebekah's excessive blabbering.
I looked over to my mate, watching his alert eyes and tense body never stray from their position facing the doors. My inner Rebekah wants to complain about having to wait on anyone, but the girl I know Klaus needs me to now keep my mouth firmly shut. Although he refuses to admit it, Klaus is scared. He needs a constant in his life, somebody he can trust to be there for him and provide him with stability. Whenever his plans breach detrimental extents, Klaus needs someone standing behind him. Someone who will remain loyal throughout.
Loyalty.
The devotional commitment is a quality I valued in my peers and vowed to live by myself. Although I am still a relative stranger to Klaus and Rebekah, I see the adherence they'd already attached to me. Despite my aversion to Klaus and the reality of our predicament initially, the hybrid is my mate. He is the person I am required to pledge my allegiance to in the name of fidelity and honor. While I remain wary of Rebekah for her past with her brother, the experienced vampire appears no less than grateful for the presence I now serve in her family.
Family.
I will be a part of a family soon. I will have a husband and children. The pill isn't such a hard one to swallow when you welcome it with open arms.
Beyond the steel doors, I hear multiple voices, both male and female, but mostly jumbled together. A distinct baritone male mentions toilet seats, Dana, and bodies. The broken sentences don't allow me to piece together anything useful to our mission. While unable to fully discern the words spoken, the smell of the man is distinct.
Werewolf.
Shockingly, the wait for Elena Gilbert does not take a notably extensive period of time. Footsteps can be heard walking down the hallway on the other side of double doors. When pushed open, the doors reveal a mop of straight, flat, brown hair, boring, casual clothing, and a smile hanging off of an unsuspecting Elena Gilbert.
A gasp escapes the girl when her eyes meet Klaus. "There's our girl," Klaus mumbles aloud from before me. Elena, struck with fear, gasps again, this time saying, "Klaus!" I'm sure she didn't intend to sound so fearful, but the beat of her heart won't let her sound anything close to brave. Elena turns away from Klaus and me in a vain attempt to escape. Klaus speeds in front of her, effectively blocking the pathway.
"You are supposed to be dead," Klaus accuses. "What are we going to do about that?" A panicked whine escapes Elena before she can stop it. Klaus doesn't take the time to wait for an answer he knows will never come. Instead, the hybrid grabs Elena's arm to steer her in the direction which we had come. It's only when I'm no longer blocked by Klaus' body that the brunette notices me.
Elena's wide, doe eyes do a double-take and she leans toward me as much as Klaus allows, which isn't much. Elena isn't the most tactful or observant person I've ever met. Naïve and awkward is more accurate. So you can understand why I'm less than surprised when Elena is unable to read the apathy written in my facial expression, instead believing I have been taken hostage by the Original as well.
Then again, if Elena is as familiar with the supernatural world as I suspect, she knows of compulsion. Elena isn't aware of my lineage. Maybe it isn't out of the realm of possibility for her to think I am just another innocent human compelled by Klaus.
"Maxine! Maxine are you okay? Did he hurt you?" a concerned Elena demands hurriedly, referring to Klaus. Before I can tell Elena just how misplaced her worry is, Klaus drags the brown-haired girl closer to himself so that she is further from me. Snickering unabashedly in wild amusement, he mutters, "Oh, now that's funny." Confused by his words, Elena turns to the hybrid with a frown present on her mouth. When Klaus notices Elena's very obvious puzzlement, he explains, "Max here is in no danger, Elena. In fact, she's further from danger with me than she'd be anywhere else."
I nearly snort. Klaus isn't entirely correct about that one. In fact, he's been a source of much of the very recent danger I've been a part of. Then again, with his protection, I don't have to worry about my safety solely any longer.
"W-What're you talking about," Elena whimpers, unable to understand. I watch the hybrid heave an annoyed sigh just before ceasing the movement of his legs altogether. Klaus turns Elena to face him, simply stating, "Maxine is my mate. She's a werewolf." Elena isn't given time to make anything of Klaus' admission before being marched down the hallway once again.
I trail behind Klaus and Elena, but soon struggle to remain close. Klaus is becoming angrier with each minute, strides growing faster but shorter. Elena struggles to match Klaus' pace as well, tripping over her own feet. Throwing the human around like a rag doll appears to be Klaus' only way to release pent-up steam, but even that form of abuse isn't doing the hybrid any favors.
"You put a rather large kink in my plans, sweetheart," Klaus growls unhappily, all the while stalking down the hallway. "The whole point of breaking the curse and becoming a hybrid was to make more hybrids. I haven't been able to do that." Elena whimpers as we turn the corner onto another hallway and Klaus purposefully bumps into her, jostling the human even further. "Now, my bet is, it has something to do with the fact that you're still breathing."
In an attempt to sound braver than she actually is, Elena replies, "If you're going to kill me, just do it!"
Even from behind the hybrid I can see the smirk on his lips. He is amused by the girl. Hell, even I am amused with her. Does she really think Klaus will end her suffering? She is even more starry-eyed than I thought.
"Not until I know I'm right," Klaus replies back just as fast as he walks. "But I do have ways of making you suffer." The hybrid turns, pushing his back against a set of double doors and pulling Elena roughly along with him. I follow behind the pair to find myself in the gymnasium where several students have begun setting out paper cups across the vinyl flooring, filling each one with water. Last night of summer spent at your high school rather than a pool party? I'm not one for jumping to conclusions, but this spells senior prank to me.
Klaus, still dragging Elena behind, raises his voice to be heard and says in an artificial American accent, "Attention, seniors. You have officially been busted. Prank night is over. Head on home."
The young adults begin exiting out of the opposing doors Klaus, Elena, and I used to enter the gymnasium. Klaus' attention hones in on two students — a boy and a girl — who have turned to leave as well. "You two," the hybrid calls out to the pair, voice returning to it's natural English accent. "I remember you."
The girl turns to the boy and then to Klaus, asking, "I'm sorry. Who are you?"
"Oh, don't worry. I wasn't in my right head last time we met," Klaus excuses before compelling her by saying, "Lift your foot up, please, Dana."
Dana.
Earlier, the unnamed werewolf I sensed had mentioned a girl by that name. This must be her. Dana obeys, lifting her right foot into the air on command. Klaus turns to the boy, compelling him as well. "If she drops her foot, Chad, I want you to beat her to death. Understood." Chad nods his head in forced comprehension, but I am far from being so docile. "Klaus," I growl, displeased with him unnecessarily harming innocent people.
Klaus turns to me, a warning in his eyes. Don't test me, that look says. Submissively, my wolf listens and Klaus, satisfied, turns to watch Dana struggle to stand on her one available foot, wobbling precariously.
Without facing me, Klaus says, "Go find our dear Stefan. Do pray Rebekah hasn't had all the fun." Elena gasps at the mention of Stefan. Surprised Klaus is letting my leash give, I nod to his back and leave the gymnasium. Elena mutters something incomprehensible to my back but is silenced by Klaus.
I depart the building from the nearest exit and with the aid of my murky memory, turn three corners before stumbling upon the blue truck parked behind the school. There is a voice heard nearby the truck, though no words are spoken, just painful moaning.
The closer my feet bring me, the more I realize what the situation is. The person is in pain. Not just a person — Stefan. Rather be inside of the truck, Stefan lay on his back outside of it. A crowbar sticks out of his chest and with each painful gasp, he attempts to remove the metal from his body. From his position, the vampire has no momentum. Walking closer until I stand directly before Stefan, I rip the crowbar from his chest without warning, letting it carelessly drop to the cement. Stefan howls in pain but sits up instantly, standing onto his feet shortly after.
I feel the burn of Stefan's intense stare as his eyes peer at me, striving to peel away each layer of my calm, indifferent façade. "Why're we here," he suddenly asks, pointing to the building behind us.
Instead of trying to hide my discontent, I glare at the vampire, sneering, "Don't act so incompetent. You really aren't that good of a liar."
Klaus and Rebekah aren't here. Right now, it is just Stefan and I. We can skip the pleasantries.
Stefan masks his unease with confusion, furrowing his thick eyebrows. He walks around me without a word, making his way into the building. "Don't!" I call out to the vampire. I run in front of him and hold my hands high to prevent him from entering, despite knowing he can easily run circles around me. "Elena Gilbert is alive after all. Klaus and Rebekah told me about her supposed death. You should know by now not to play a game like that against the Mikaelson's, am I right?"
At the mention of Elena, Stefan's shoulders tense with concern, which seeps into his voice as well. "Where's Elena?" the vampire demands.
I waved my hand dismissively through the air, remarking, "Last time I saw the human she was left all alone with Klaus, save for a couple of compelled seniors."
I watch Stefan's body coil tighter and smile. He glares longingly at the school and steps closer. I push on his chest, though he doesn't move much. "No," I growl disapprovingly, which only serves to make the vampire angrier.
Using his supernatural speed, Stefan makes a bee-line for the door. I cast a spell on the handle, locking it. When Stefan realizes what I'd done, he runs again, this time out of sight. I search around, unable to see Stefan from any angle.
Stefan could have entered the school another way. I need to find Klaus, alert him. With that in mind, I turn around, heading for the door closest to me.
I barely feel the impact of the metal as it slides through my body, but once I hit the ground, gasping for air, the sting of my mangled heart is unbearable. The only feeling more powerful than the ache in my chest is the fluttering of my eyelids. Just before darkness swaths me like a safety blanket, encasing my body tightly until the flames are sniffed out, quelled by the heavy ache, I see one last image of a face looming malevolently above me.
Stefan.
———————————————————
Niklaus' POV
"Keep it up," I encourage the young girl, Dana, just as her exhausted leg begins to wobble. I have let Elena go for the moment, knowing she won't get far if she boldly — and stupidly — attempts to escape.
Minutes — ten to be exact, I counted — have passed since Maxine has left. Deep within my chest, the ache of trepidation burns.
Where is Maxine?
As if to voice my thoughts, Elena whines about her own missing companion, "Where's Stefan? What did you do to him?"
"Stefan's on a time out," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest while watching a nervous Dana sway on her foot.
One of the metal doors out of the two connected to the gymnasium is shoved open with the click-clack of shoes — heels to be specific — following soon after. There is only one woman I know that would voluntarily wear such attention-grabbing death traps.
Rebekah.
Not bothering to spare a glance over to my sister, I give her an order, one I would prefer to do on my own. "Go find Maxine. She's been gone an awfully long time," I mutter, a hint of involuntary worry etched within my terse words.
Maxine should be back by now. With Stefan.
Rebekah wisely decides to say nothing in return and I hear her heels tapping against the floor once again, fading the more distance she crosses. Only seconds pass before the doors swing open once again.
Surely she isn't that fast.
My suspicions are confirmed when Elena yells, "Bonnie, get out of here!"
Ah, the witch lives! Surprise, surprise.
A sardonic laugh flies across my lips and I speed over to the witch. Startled, a gasp escapes the girl when she finds me suddenly behind her.
"Ah, I was wondering when you'd show up," I muse to the Bennett witch before announcing, "Now we can get started." My eyes cut to the compelled girl across the room. "Ah, Dana, why don't you relax. You and Chad sit tight." Immediately, Dana falls into Chad's arms and they sit on the floor. I look at Bonnie Bennett again. "I assume you're the reason Elena's still walking around alive?"
Bonnie, determined and sacrificial as ever confirms my conclusion by saying, "That's right. If you want to blame someone, blame me."
That must be were Elena gets her brazenness from.
I smile. "Oh, there's no need for blame, love. Just your witchy interference seems to have caused some undesirable side effects. And since you caused the problem, I'm going to have you find the fix," I command the young witch rather than merely suggest.
I hear the groaning of the metal doors once again. Moaning in annoyance, I spin around to face the intruder, only to see my little sister standing there with Maxine. The only article out of place is the small girl slumped bridal-style within my sister's arms. Rebekah, not even breathless with the light weight she carries, walks gracefully in her six-inch heels. In her arms lay the most innocent angel. Her golden blonde hair halos over the arm she rests on, glowing brightly in the dim room that is only lit by harsh, fluorescent lights and the moonlight spilling in through the windows.
She's not moving.
She's not breathing.
She's dead.