Chapter 4 ∞ England
1864, New Orleans, Louisiana
"Now, Rebekah, I suggest that we all take a deep breath—"
"You bloody fool, Nik!"
"Stop this tantrum right now!"
"No! You drove him away!" She screams, grabbing the antique vase off its pedestal before flinging it violently at her brother's head. Unfortunately, he ducks at the last second and she's graced with the unsatisfactory sight of the porcelain smashing into pieces when it makes impact against the wall.
"I am warning you—"
She ignores him, taking the fifteenth-century chair from its spot and this time, the projectile hits its intended target, splintering into millions of pieces.
"REBEKAH!"
She pants, pushing her tangled curls away from her face just as Niklaus snarls and shoves her against the door, his hand around her neck. "Go ahead!" she shrieks, not even bothering to put up a fight. "Lock me up in those bloody coffins of yours! That way, you shall get what you truly desire! To be all alone with no one who cares!"
Her brother bares his fangs at her but Rebekah can't bring herself to care, not when another piece of her family is gone.
"Elijah is the only brother who stood by you through everything and you, in all of your selfishness and cruelty drove him away," she spits, her vision turning glassy as her spoken words resonate with the barely-healed scars on her heart. "This is your fault, Nik. Yours alone!"
Niklaus' swallows and he releases her. He looks away and at his sides, his hands are fisted. "I did not mean it."
"Liar!" she snaps. "You knew what you were doing! Family is everything to Elijah and you all but told him that Finn is buried at sea? Threatening to do the same to Kol who you simply hauled out for a brief stint just to taunt Elijah? You impulsive bloody idiot! As if killing that witchy harlot of his was not enough—"
Never one to take criticism well, her brother's anger flares up once more and the ornate dining table is flipped over and destroyed. "ENOUGH!" he roars and Rebekah swears that the chandelier on the ceiling is trembling from her brother's rage. "If you recall, dear sister, Elijah paid me back in full, he went after the wolves and sabotaged almost everything we have built!"
"That was years ago!" she shrieks and stamps her foot.
"So you say!" Niklaus sneers and stretches out his hands grandly. "And yet, our esteemed older brother has done nothing but remind me over and over again about how I have slipped the leash of humanity!" He shifts his jaw and looks completely unrepentant. "I did what had to be done! Kol would have distracted him enough to get off my case!"
"And how is that working out for you now?" she hisses. "All of your brothers hate you!"
She watches as Niklaus exhales heavily and tries his best to reign in his temper. "I never thought that he would be capable of deserting us, that he would think me capable of doing away with Finn," he finally answers, shoulders dropping as he runs a hand through his dirty-blond curls. "I thought he would sulk for a few weeks at the very least. Not run off with his tail between his legs!"
Rebekah scoffs derisively. After more than eight hundred years, it never ceases to amaze her how little Niklaus understood his family. The more her half-brother tried to exercise his control and dominance over his siblings, the more they all struggled and writhed, doing their best to seek freedom and happiness in little ways, only for it to be taken away eventually.
Just like Kol, she thinks woefully. And now, Elijah.
"Did the witches manage to pinpoint his location?" she demands impatiently, tapping her foot on the ruined carpet.
Her brother pauses and darts a glance in her direction before he begins pacing along the length of the room agitatedly.
She knows her favourite brother long enough to know when he's stalling.
"Nik…" she growls. " What did they say?"
He glares sullenly at her. "Elijah has all but disappeared. He cannot be traced. They say that he must be under a cloaking spell."
Rebekah closes her eyes and curls her hands into delicate fists at her sides. There is no longer any point in acting out. Not when she can hear the regret in Nik's voice and the hurt in his eyes at Elijah's departure—hurt that only she can see.
This, she reminds herself, is why she's stayed at his side all this while.
"I do not care how you do it. You will find him and you will fix this!" she orders imperiously.
"I certainly will not!" His voice thunders across the room and she blinks warily. "If Elijah wants to break his vow of loyalty to his family—to us, then so be it! I will not crawl on my knees to beg for mercy or forgiveness. No," he starts shaking his head and a cruel smirk flits onto his lips, "I shall let him run like that wretched doppelgänger he once wanted to protect!"
"Nik…" Rebekah can only watch in mute horror as he sweeps out of the decimated dining room in all of his rage.
• ∞ • ∞ •
1864, London, England
As it turns out, settling into this new life she's carving for herself is easier than Katherine had thought.
Living in a country she once swore to never step foot in again and posing as a foreign noblewoman from abroad (hence her olive complexion and her lack of an English accent), she finds herself finally putting down roots for the first time in years. Here, there are no haunting memories of fleeing through the forest, of Klaus and the fate that awaited her should he catch her, of always checking behind her shoulder.
Of course, it does help to know that should anything happen, she has an Original at her side.
An Original who is currently absorbed with the book in his hands and has been for the past two days.
Katherine resists throwing a bread roll in his direction just to get his attention.
One thing she has learned about Elijah during this period of cohabitation is his tendency to get lost in whatever novel that has garnered the entirety of his attention. She doubts that he would react unless Klaus makes a literal physical appearance and waves a hand in his face. Still, times like this allows Katherine to study him fully without fear of being caught, of having the chance to analyse his actions and to figure out the thoughts running through his mind.
Admittedly, she ends up memorising his features and cataloguing the various minute facial expressions he makes as he reads.
A compelled servant enters the drawing room and sets down a tray full of breakfast items, but most importantly, the two teacups containing blood—blood that is donated by their army of compelled staff who would voluntarily slash their veins on a weekly timetable that Katherine has devised.
Elijah had protested until she'd pointed out it was no better than finding an unsuspecting human to chomp on in the streets, risking discovery in their very elite neighbourhood where nosey neighbours thrived on gossip and scandal. Plus, she'd added that unlike the potential stragglers on the street, they were already paying their servants for their loyal service and if his moral obligation still wasn't satisfied, he could simply increase their wages.
Grudgingly, Elijah had acquiesced, seeing the logic and Katherine had preened.
Taking her teacup, Katherine sips on it daintily and savours the actual feeling of sitting and being present in the moment without fear and worry tainting everything. It is something she hasn't done ever since she turned.
A masculine hand blindly reaches out to the tray, its owner still highly engrossed in his book and she watches in amusement as Elijah's fingers land in the little white porcelain pot full of marmalade. Naturally, that pulls his attention and she smirks at the startled look on his face.
Wordlessly, she hands him a napkin and he takes it gracefully.
"That ought to teach you about the repercussions of reading," she says teasingly, taking another sip from her teacup.
He smiles ruefully at her and closes his book, setting it down on the table. "I apologise. I had not expected the tale to be this riveting. It is remarkable and I highly recommend it."
Katherine raises her brows and eyes the book with its embossed title. "Great Expectations," she reads aloud before flicking her gaze back to him. "The expectations I had in my life always fell short of being great," she answers dryly and picks up a scone and nibbles on it. "I fear I might have to turn down your suggestion."
He quirks up a brow but doesn't comment.
"That being said, I might go for a stroll in town," she declares and rises to her feet. "Would you care to join me?"
Elijah hesitates, his eyes darting back to his book and from that, she knows his answer. She shrugs and is about to get her things when he clears his throat.
"Of course, Katerina, I would be honoured to."
She blinks, visibly faltering as he offers a tentative smile in her direction.
• ∞ • ∞ •
"I suppose I should be surprised by how easily you have acclimated here, but I am not," Elijah comments at her side as they enter another store. "Not to mention how you have managed to establish your influence."
Katherine smiles and tucks her hand around his elbow. "Your faith in my abilities to survive is well noted."
They have spent the better part of the day shopping with Katherine having the full intention to expand her wardrobe, while Elijah—the mostly accommodating man that he is—accompanies her dutifully. Though she doesn't miss the few times he'd purchased feminine trinkets and the like for someone she suspects is his absent sister.
However, spending Elijah's money isn't the main objective of the day. Instead, it is dropping by to check up on the men and women she's compelled to be her eyes and ears. Men and women who own frequently-patronized establishments in the heart of London, most of whom are instructed to inform her the minute someone starts asking around for her or the Original.
"I meant the compliment wholeheartedly, Katerina. I am truly impressed," Elijah continues, gracing her with a small smile as he peruses the books on the shelf.
She smiles, her cheeks flushing with pleasure at the warmth in his tone. Still, Katherine chooses not to mention the safehouses she's purchased or the handful of servants she's secretly compelled to do only her bidding back at their London townhouse. She figures it'll be safer to hold some cards close to her chest—something she has learned during her many years on the run.
As the mysterious new foreign neighbours, Katherine doesn't miss the admiring or curious glances shot their way from their fellow members of the peerage. Despite it being only a month since they've stepped foot on English soil, Elijah prefers to be a recluse, only leaving their house once in a blue moon and only when it was required of him. Of course, his rare appearances further stirs the interests others have in him.
Hence, they being approached and invited for a soiree at someone's house this evening.
Their hostess, a duchess (with a title that Katherine can't recall) beams as they step foot into her home. Belatedly, Katherine muses if Elijah would allow her to sneak back and steal the rope of pearls that is currently around the woman's neck.
Probably not.
As Katherine plays the part of the blushing newlywed with innocent smiles and simpering laughter, Elijah is reserved and regards everyone with a veneer of polite detachment. When she catches the dismissive looks on their fellow guests as their gaze sweeps past her, she narrows her eyes, allowing her metaphorical fangs to drop.
If only they knew who and what they were.
Katherine could drain the room dry of blood in less than a minute if she felt so inclined and maybe, she could egg Elijah on to severe heads. But with the man's infamous penchant for restraint, she doubts it.
Though, the idea of him losing control, of him letting go of his tightly-held reigns of modicum and good behaviour appeals to her immensely. Scenarios of him touching her, of his lips grazing her skin, of his body sliding against hers, of blood dripping from his fangs as he parts her thighs…
She decides to push such thoughts to the back of her mind for now.
Nevertheless, Katherine ploughs on, entertaining and telling stories, effectively capturing the attention of everyone while hinting at the predator that lies beneath her skin and guileless smile.
"How long have you known each other?" A woman whose chin wobbles dangerously as she speaks turns to Katherine with a jovial grin. The woman may be addressing her, but the question is clearly meant for both her and Elijah. "The two of you seem… worlds apart."
At the backhanded comment, Katherine allows a saccharinely sweet smile to curve on her lips. "Well, it feels like we have known each other for centuries," she gushes brightly, batting her lashes demurely and playfully just as Elijah clears his throat and dabs at his mouth with a napkin. "And even then, we have only renewed our acquaintance recently. Is that not right, my dear?"
Elijah offers a polite smile that he only uses when amongst strangers and forks a piece of the roast into his mouth. "Quite right."
The remaining guests titter obnoxiously and she hides her smirk behind her wine glass, catching the Original's chiding glance. But Katherine knows better, she can see the gleam of amusement in his dark eyes and the tilt at the corner of his mouth.
That night, once they have excused themselves from the party, Katherine finds herself lingering at her bedroom door as Elijah comes to a stop behind her.
Fidgeting with the silk shawl draped loosely around her shoulders, she turns to face him so she can peer coyly up at him from under her lashes.
It is an invitation.
An invitation that Elijah clearly understands as he gazes down at her through half-lidded eyes. And yet, he hesitates, his tongue making a brief appearance as he wets his lip, causing her undead heart to skip a beat. He takes a step closer, the sound echoing around the deserted hallway and Katherine takes the chance to press against him in blatant want.
"Elijah," she breathes out.
"Katerina," he murmurs in return, the reverent way her birth name can only be uttered by him, settles sweetly in her soul.
She tilts her head up intending to seek his lips with hers.
He cradles the side of her face and the silver of his daylight ring against her skin sends shivers down her spine. Katherine trembles weakly as her desire for him—for Elijah—wreaks havoc on her senses until she isn't sure what she's truly feeling. Her eyes flutter close and she leans into his touch, wishing for more and all and everything that he can offer.
His thumb brushes the curve of her cheek tenderly and Katherine is lost. Belatedly, she feels a ghost of a kiss on her forehead, the warmth of his lips imprinting on her skin before they withdraw as quickly as they have landed.
When Katherine opens her eyes, he is gone.
• ∞ • ∞ •
Upon arriving back at the townhouse, the sound of voices echoing down from the parlour can be heard. Cocking her head and pursing her lips, Katherine wordlessly instructs the maids trailing behind her to put away her purchases from her recent bout of shopping. Straining her ears, she distinguishes four voices in total, one being her Original housemate.
She doesn't recall Elijah mentioning anything about expecting guests.
Especially guests of the undead variety.
Stepping into the grandly-decorated parlour with its rich red brocade curtains and dark walnut furniture, she takes note of the four male occupants and raises her brows at the ongoings of a rather heated debate.
"Good afternoon," she greets casually, interrupting the escalating argument while simultaneously garnering everyone's attention. "What is this?" she directs to Elijah with a smirk. "Vampire book club Tuesday? Or is today Wednesday?"
Elijah shoots her a chiding look. "Katerina, please."
Her smirk widens and she scans through the handful of vampires who are no doubt older than her by a good hundred years while carefully noting their features, and deducing that none of them is in any way associated with Klaus. In fact, she doesn't recognise most of them until her narrowed gaze lands on a blond.
Instantaneously, her smile freezes as recognition strikes.
The man shakes out of his shock and snarls, fangs flashing as his eyes turn black and the veins beneath his gaze warp. "You!"
"Sergei!" she exclaims, eyes widening when the Russian flashes towards her, blue eyes raging.
Self-preservation instincts kicking in, Katherine bolts, zipping past Elijah who promptly intervenes. Within a blink of an eye, he has a hand around the blond's throat, and Katherine pauses at the doorway as the Russian vampire is slammed against the wall in a brutal chokehold while Elijah looks none the worse for wear.
"Enough, Antonov," Elijah orders flatly, brown eyes hard. "You are a guest in my house. It would be wise of you not to offend your host."
The Russian gurgles, flailing uselessly against the relentless grip the Original has on him. Eventually, he acquiesces and nods frantically, resulting in being released, much to Katherine's disappointment. It's a shame, she muses inwardly, that Elijah hasn't displayed one of his heart ripping executions.
"Now," Elijah steps back to straighten his sleeves, "do explain your appalling lack of manners."
Great big hacking coughs are emitted from his throat as the blond Russian rises to his feet, glaring murderously in Katherine's direction. "That bitch got my Annette killed in 1659! I swore that I will rip her limb from limb should I set eyes on her!"
Despite the threat, Katherine can't help but make a face, which only enrages the man further.
Elijah sighs and turns to her, waiting.
She purses her lips and shrugs nonchalantly, tapping her fingers playfully against the door jamb. "Annette was sired by Klaus and she found out I was being hunted by him. So I fed her to the local vampire-hunting witches."
From his spot, Sergei Antonov growls, the veins under his eyes pulses and his fangs make another appearance. Katherine can tell the Russian vampire would love nothing more than to inflict a slow and agonising death on her, but with Elijah in the way, well… She smiles smugly, crossing the room to settle on a now vacant chair. And the instigator within her that thrives on chaos is eager for a show.
"Regardless, Antonov, I apologise that your vow of vengeance will have to be put on hold for the foreseeable future as Katherine Pierce is now under my protection."
Katherine smiles sweetly and with feigned demureness at the wary looks shot her way by the two other vampires. She notes the careful interest in their gazes and is confident that her infamy and the legends of her exploits have reached their ears. Turning to them, she awards them with a winsome smile and a jaunty wave of her fingers.
"No!" the Russian shouts, causing the tension in the room to escalate. His nostrils flare as he all but challenges Elijah with bared fangs and clenched fists. "I have to! She killed Annette!"
"It was self-defence, Sergei," Katherine snaps and crosses her ankles daintily. "Get over it."
The blond hisses and experience tell her the Russian is about to pounce. She straightens in her chair and is now more than prepared to get her hands dirty to deal with the man once and for all when Elijah steps in. Seeing his polite facade replaced with cold harsh features that hinted nothing of the private workings of his mind, Katherine is reminded why Elijah actually held the title of the most unpredictable Original when angered.
From what she's heard of Rebekah and Kol, the two Originals are mostly trouble seekers and can be easily reasoned with by bribes and counter-offers. Rebekah can be mollified by tending to her fragile feminine ego, whereas Kol is self-serving. The latter may be unpredictable in the fallout of his rage, but ultimately, he would swing to whichever side that provides the most entertainment.
Klaus, on the other hand, is an Original she's more than familiar with, considering she's been on the receiving end of his temper for the better part of four hundred years. Klaus may be charming, barely hiding his flashes of anger with manners that are aimed to pick and prod than for civility's sake, but Katherine has seen him in his rage, his infamous hot-temper provoking him to act with threats that are often demonstrated physically and horrifically. And no matter how much his actions are driven with vengeance and anger, there is rhyme and reason in his every move, displaying the Machiavellian workings of his mind.
And lastly, for all of his calm demeanour and famed code of honour, Elijah can be a man's worst nightmare when his ideals are threatened, or when something he perceives as a threat comes exceedingly close to destroying what he holds dear. Essentially, the noble Original can be coolly rational from the beginning, providing sardonic dry answers before issuing ultimatums as he plays the mediator. And in a blink of an eye, he could change his mind and his hand would be holding a still-pumping organ as his adversary drops to the floor with a hole in his chest.
As she rests her chin on her palm, Katherine muses that she will certainly not mind having a front-row seat to Sergei's heart being exposed to daylight for the first time.
"I suggest that you stand down, Antonov. Do not let me break my word." Elijah's flat icy tone breaks through to the man and Sergei visibly trembles with rage, casting hate-filled glares in Katherine's direction. "Now, you may either drop this vendetta of yours and sit, or I can grant you a three-second head start where you can walk out of the door with your heart intact. What will it be?"
Katherine blinks, leaning back in her chair, eyes raking over Elijah's stern authoritarian form with interest. God, she's forgotten how… alluring the man can be when he's fired up over his strict self-adhered code of morals and vows. A stirring of heat coils low in her belly and involuntarily, Katherine presses her thighs together.
The sound of the main door slamming announces Sergei's unsurprising departure and breaks Katherine from the seductive turn of her thoughts. It also draws attention to the repressed irritation that is present on Elijah's countenance.
"I apologise for the interruption, gentlemen," the Original murmurs and once more, he is the paragon of a proper English lord as he settles back in his chair. "Where were we?"
She snatches a bite-sized cucumber sandwich from the serving tray and watches in amusement as the two other vampires exchange glances and begin floundering. As they speak, Katherine infers that Elijah has started to look for his daggered siblings and is seeking weaknesses in his brother's movements. From what the two vampires reveal, it is nothing she doesn't already know from the information she's gleaned from her sources.
Bored, she observes Elijah, eyes trailing over him as he sips from a blood-filled teacup. Ever in his element of holding court, he answers and deflects smoothly when one of his summoned trusted underlings subtly prod for information about the rumoured split of the Original siblings.
True to her nature, she decides his feathers ought to be ruffled.
Nonchalantly, she reaches over for his cup and ensuring that she has his full attention, she turns the porcelain around to where his lips had touched the rim and sips from it in blatant flirtation.
Opposite her, Elijah's gaze flares, hot and bright.
Coupled with the sweet rush of blood and the possibility of his taste on her tongue, she sighs and lounges back in her chair with the ease and grace of a lazy cat enjoying a sunspot. From the corner of her eyes, she spots the two vampires shifting in their seats and allows a sensuous smirk to fall on her lips.
That is until one of the vampires slips a piece of paper out of his pockets and slides it towards Elijah, with a vague explanation that it came from someone in the vampiric community in New Orleans. At that, Katherine sits up, narrowing her gaze on the Original who reads the letter's contents blankly.
Knowing better than to pry with literal strangers around, she waits impatiently as Elijah shows his guests out, but not before compelling them to keep her identity and presence a secret. When they are finally alone, she whirls around to him and cocks a brow. "Well?" she prompts demandingly. "Who was that from?"
"Hmm?"
"The letter!"
"It is from Rebekah," Elijah says quietly, moving around the room restlessly, resembling a caged predator on the prowl. "She tells me that Niklaus has found my leaving and constitutes it as a betrayal." He gives a mirthless smile. "I am now to be hunted down like you are."
Katherine shrugs. "How do you know she sent it?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How do you know she wrote it? Could it be a ploy by Klaus to lure you out?"
"No," Elijah shakes his head and presses the paper into her palm. "It is written in a code created by Rebekah. As to my knowledge, her fancy for secret messages is only shared with Kol and me, despite Niklaus having the dubious honour of being her favourite brother."
Certifiably, Katherine opens up the creased paper to read lines describing the weather and how the Second Schleswig war could have been prevented. She snorts and raises a brow. "Can your sister be any more obvious? A war among monarchies for control over territory? Who are you representing? Austria? And is your brother Denmark?"
A grudging smile appears and he chuckles softly. "I am afraid that Rebekah does not possess the subtlety or the aptitude for secrecy required of a spy."
She snickers but immediately quietens at a niggling concern. "Speaking of secrecy, you did not compel Sergei to forget me. What if he runs to Klaus and divulges our location?"
He looks at her and raises a brow. "I strongly believe that it shall not be the last we see of him."
True to his word, it isn't.
Three days later and she's striding down the street with the purpose to pick up a source of intel when she's grabbed with meaty arms and pushed into a dirty rundown alley that is devoid of life.
With her quick reflexes, Katherine rights herself and looks up. Unsurprisingly, Sergei Antonov is waiting as he bares his fangs and glowers hatefully at her. Right, then. The Russian may have two hundred years on her, but Katherine has survived worse.
She smirks with a come-hither smile and that alone sets him off.
He lunges and she plants her hands on his chest and shoves him off with all of her strength, causing him to crash against the stained and cracked brick walls and the unused abandoned crates on the ground. Unluckily for her, he's back on his feet within seconds, more incensed than before as he snarls like a rabid dog.
"You whore!" he shouts, rushing at her with a jagged piece of wood from the ground. "Just because you danced your way into an Original's bed does not make you invincible!"
"Never said it would!" she replies, narrowly avoiding the makeshift stake before managing to grab his wrist to slam it viciously against the wall. The sound of fractured bones and yelps of pain fuel her and she laughs, fisting a hand in his hair to hurl his face into concrete and dirt. "And unfortunately for me, my dear Sergei, it is not for lack of trying."
With the agility and speed she has developed from her vampiric years, Katherine ducks and twists, avoiding Sergei's clumsy pitiful attempts to grab her. Picking up the stake he'd dropped, she positions it right over his heart and slams down.
However, no matter how much strength she puts into shoving the wooden stick into his heart, Sergei is older, and hence, stronger. With gritted teeth, he snarls and pushes at her hands. Faltering, Katherine stumbles back and before she can recover, Sergei catches her by the waist and the next thing she knows, his hands are around her throat and the stake in her hand clatters to the ground.
Katherine has miscalculated.
She coughs, sputtering as he slams her back repeatedly against the dishevelled building walls. With the breath knocked out of her, she isn't aware of what happens next when the tip of the discarded wooden piece is pressed into her gut, piercing through her dress and undergarments and hitting flesh.
"Any last words, Kitty?" The Russian sneers, as the stake enters her body further by an inch, delighting in the way she hisses from pain and squirms uselessly in his grip.
If it isn't for the hand around her throat, Katherine would have responded with something witty and sharp and maybe something degrading about the long-deceased Anette, but with the lack of air, the edges of her vision are turning blurry.
The reality that this could be the end of her filters briefly through her mind. But Katherine will be damned before she allows herself to be killed by Sergei who she considers nothing more than a common thug. If Klaus couldn't get his hands on her, no one else could. Exhaling slowly because she only has one chance at this, she steadies herself and gathers all of her strength, her upper body tensing as she prepares herself to strike.
"Where is your precious Original protector now?" the Russian sneers disparagingly as he withdraws the stake from her gut and positions it over her heart.
She throws a rebellious smirk in his direction and with all of her might, carries out Elijah's famed method of execution. Without hesitation, she plunges her right hand into his chest, rapidly searching through blood and muscle tissue, bypassing his ribs for that life-giving organ and Katherine curls her fingers around it.
Sergei stutters, face turning ashen as she smiles wickedly at the delicious sight and tugs, hard—
"You asked for me?"
She doesn't have time to be surprised by Elijah's appearance before Sergei's head flies off his neck and lands on the ground at her feet. Similarly to his head, Sergei's body folds on itself and crumples into a heap, and Katherine is left standing with his heart in her hand.
Panting, she sags against the dirt-encrusted wall and gingerly runs a hand over the wound on her torso as adrenaline continues to pulse through her veins. Once she feels the gaping hole on her gut is healed, she looks up to glower at Elijah who looks entirely too composed after beheading someone.
"A little late, are you not?" she snaps and releases Sergei's heart as it plops to the floor with a splat and a squelch. "You were supposed to be nearby!"
"And yet, it seems that you had it all handled," he points out archly and eyes the remains of Sergei disdainfully.
Despite the close brush to death and high on her kill, Katherine lets out a little breathless laugh as she straightens and examines her blood-stained hand with pride. "I am more than aware of what I am capable of," she declares and pushes herself off the wall. "I just prefer not to get my hands dirty. Which was something you could have prevented if you arrived as planned!"
With Elijah predicting that Sergei would not leave London until he managed to exact his revenge on her, they'd hatched a plan to lay a trap for the Russian. Katherine would play the bait as she goes about her daily routine as though nothing is amiss. What Sergei Antonov wouldn't know is that the Original wouldn't be far, poised to strike.
It has taken three days but finally, the Russian is taken care of.
Satisfied, Katherine peers and prods at Sergei's headless corpse with a heeled foot.
Elijah smiles faintly and pulls out a handkerchief, looking unruffled and unflappable as usual. "Then I apologise for my tardiness. But let me remind you that I have never once doubted your abilities, even though you've taken a page out of my book," he says dryly and slips out of his coat and drapes it over her shoulders "If I recall, staking and dismemberment was your preferred choice of punishment."
She smirks and accepts his pocket square. "Well, never let it be said I am not adaptable."
"Of course." She catches the hint of a smirk on his face as he arranges her tangled curls artfully to disguise the ruined style her hair is in. "Come, let us go home."
Home.
Katherine blinks, staring up at Elijah as she pauses mid-step, the simple four-letter word resonating in the empty hollowness of her heart.
"Katerina?"
The softness of his voice and the way he carefully pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear shakes her out of her silence.
"Nothing, I'm fine," she murmurs and the tension within her eases. She loops her arm around his and smiles up at him, allowing him to guide her out of the alley. "Let us go home."
A/N: Please review :)