Chapter Twenty-Six
Resistance
New Orleans, Louisiana
1897
"The best part of the Hundred Years' War was meeting Joan of Arc. Finn, you would have loved Joan. She was a champion. Caroline befriended her – yes, I'm getting to that part, Kol! DON'T INTERRUPT ME! Now. Where was I? Ah, yes. Caroline befriended her first, and we fought alongside her many times before her unfortunate capture. It was a privilege to watch her on the battlefield. Then she was betrayed by her own people and sold to the English. If I weren't married to a Frenchwoman, I'd have words about that. Kol, goddamn it, I'm getting there! You just can't help yourself, can you? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! Everything that's happened! It's your fault I'm all alone! No… No, you're right, Finn. I'm not alone. We're together. Always and forever…"
Mariko stood in the cellar doorway listening to her friend's rambling speech with growing alarm. She glanced at Marcellus beside her. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, "I told you so." They had caught only a fraction of his diatribe, but it was more than enough to convince the witch that Marcellus had not been exaggerating about his sire's state of mind. As Klaus talked, he paced energetically, pulling at his too-long hair and scratching his forearms. He hadn't even realized he had visitors. The cellar was damp and musky, the only source of light coming from a single torch. The hybrid had lifted the lids off his brothers' coffins, and their blank, desiccated faces made the dank cellar all the more eerie.
"Now do you understand my hesitation when you said you could get him out of his funk?" Marcellus questioned with obvious doubt.
Mariko shook her head. "I didn't realize it would be this bad. How long have the hallucinations gone on?"
Marcellus sighed. "He started acting strange a year ago – disappearing for days on end, failing to lead the city, violent mood swings. But I think the hallucinations started within the past six months. Last week, he came down here and never remerged."
"I was hoping he'd been cursed... If he's not... Well, it won't be pretty," she warned.
The young vampire winced.
"But afterwards he'll need to have a goal, somewhere to focus his energy to prevent any relapses. That's where the doppelgänger comes into play," Mariko explained. She had recently discovered Katerina Petrova had had a daughter before turning - the Petrova doppelgänger line had survived.
"You think the chase will motivate him."
"Absolutely. Nik longs to break his curse - and now that I've realized he needs doppelgänger blood to sire hybrids, he will be doubly focused."
"-then we can find Henrik, and everything will be alright. Yes, we just have to find him… Lost in the woods… All alone, lost in the woods…" Klaus muttered.
She couldn't stomach another second of it.
"Nik?" she called to him gently; he whirled around in surprise. His eyes were their normal blue-green, albeit with slightly dilated pupils.
"Ah, Mariko!" he exclaimed, holding his hands out to her with a deranged smile. "It has been far too long, my old friend!"
She nodded at Marcellus, and he hesitated for a moment before flashing back up the stairs. With a deep breath, she stepped into the room and took his hands.
"How are you, Nik?" she asked carefully.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the coffins. "Come say hello! I've been catching up with my brothers. Say hello to the Undying Witch, Kol, Finn."
Mariko bit her lip and patted the hybrid on the back. "How are you feeling? When was the last time you slept? Or fed?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. She could discern he still had his humanity turned on, but he was obviously, disturbingly unwell.
He shrugged in indifference. "I'm fine. Ah, Iki! Do you remember the time you had a threesome with Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn and afterwards, you said Anne gave you the best head of your life!" His body shook with laughter. "What a pun! As if you had known! Caroline is always reminding me you're better than her at foreseeing the future. I think you're also the funnier-"
"Caroline is in Paris with Rebekah and Pacari," she interrupted, testing him.
His smile dropped briefly but he shook his head and smiled even wider. "No matter; they'll all come back for the anniversary!"
"Which anniversary?"
"Mine and Caroline's, of course! In 1902, we will celebrate five hundred years married! She's been bending my ear about the party she's going to throw for ages," he told her, beaming.
She didn't miss the manic gleam in his eye, the agitation, nor did she have the heart to correct him. She veered the conversation out of dangerous territory. "You haven't pissed off any powerful witches recently, have you, Nik? Any more than usual, that is," she added, clinging to the hope that he was cursed.
"I'm not sure I remember the last time I saw one of the covens. I haven't… I don't think I've left the house much, honestly," he said, his forehead wrinkling in confusion in a brief moment of lucidity. Mariko could tell he was telling the truth; besides, Marcellus' description of his behavior suggested psychological, not magical, damage. She closed her closed her eyes for one brief moment and read his aura. He wasn't cursed. It was as she feared – she had a lot of work to do.
"Niklaus, my old friend, I'm afraid I'll need to take some drastic measures," she told him.
He shook his head, smirking. "Don't play coy, Iki. I know you're helping Caroline plan the party! We're still a few years out, but you know better than anyone how my wife can get when it comes to organizing big events-"
Then, he was flat on his back, twitching uncontrollably, blood pouring out of every orifice. Mariko's amethyst eyes blackened from the force of the magic.
"I'm sorry," she said once he'd gone still.
Paris, France
1901
Rebekah leant back onto the bed and closed her eyes with a moan on her lips as her lover bent between her thighs, his mouth on her nub. He was not exceptionally talented, but he'd do the trick. She moaned louder.
A second later, the door to her bedroom banged open.
Pacari stood in the threshold, his expression murderous. His silvery-black veins had spiderwebbed across his russet-colored face. His black eyes were narrowed in jealous fury. Every sinewy muscle in his lean frame was taut with tension.
She forced her outward appearance to remain calm, but her insides twisted in thrilled anticipation. Her nether regions tingled, and it wasn't due to the man who had been licking them the moment before. When their eyes met across the room, a pleasurable throbbing rocked through her.
Her lover fell to the ground in shock, twisting and staring up at the Incan hybrid.
"What – what are you – get out!" her lover stuttered.
Pacari's fangs popped out, and then he launched into the room, hoisted the man in the air, and threw him bodily out the door, into the hall. He slammed the door behind him. He rested his forehead against it to catch his breath.
"Just last night," he finally hissed. "Just last night, we shared a bed."
"Do you think that gives you a claim to me?" Rebekah said viciously.
He whipped around to face her. Her eyes widened in mock innocence.
"This is a game. You're trying to make me jealous," he realized.
She slid back on the bed, wearing a corset and nothing else. His dark eyes followed every movement.
"Is it working?" she teased.
He flashed to the bed, but then paused. He reached out one hand to caress her calf, sliding up ever-so gently.
"Yes," he said.
Moments later, he was ripping her corset open. He tossed the offending garment to the floor before biting down on her left nipple sharply enough to draw blood. She shrieked with pleasure.
His tattooed arms wrapped around her pale flesh and he twisted her on the bed.
"Don't move," he whispered into her ear. He sucked it into his mouth, licking, nipping, running his tongue along the lobe. Then he was gone.
She whimpered in anticipation as she heard him remove his clothes. When she squirmed on the bed, he slapped her backside. As she gasped, he came back to the bed, grasping her hair with one hand and positioning himself with the other.
"You're mine, Bekah. No matter what you say, how far you run, how much you push me away. You'll always be mine."
He entered her with aching slowness, inch by inch. She'd discovered years earlier that as a hybrid, his temperature was always slightly warmer than hers. The sensation was electrifying. His thrusts were languid and his hold possessive.
She lost herself in him. She was so lost, in fact, she was taken completely aback when he flipped her over and bent down between her legs, staring at the glistening apex of her thighs. He ran his nose down her left thigh, smelling her.
"Pacari," she gasped out. "Please…"
He stared into her blue eyes, lust, anger, betrayal, and love mixing together toxically on his russet face. But it only lasted a moment. When he pressed his thumb into her nub, only lust was left.
"Mine."
His fangs slid out of his mouth and latched onto her inner thigh, as close as possible to her sex. As he sucked in her blood, his thumb pressed down, massaging.
She lost her mind, all awareness abandoning her. She thrashed into the pillows as he held her. In her mind, she thought the words she couldn't bring herself to say out loud.
Ari! Ari, I love you.
West Texas
1911
When Elijah jolted awake in the middle of the night, he was not immediately certain what had woken him. He glanced around the dark bedroom warily before his gaze settled on his sleeping wife. As usual, Grace was flat on her back, sprawled out with one arm flung over his chest and the other buried deep beneath her pillow. Her face was leaning to one side, her lips parted slightly. It was incredibly endearing. A few black strands were peeking out of her hair wrap, and he reached down and gently tucked them back in.
A whispering, fluttering sound permeated the silence. He slid out of the bed noiselessly. Something wasn't right, he could feel it. That sound was too familiar… It was the eerie sound a creature of the night made.
He closed the door to their bedroom behind him and walked down the hallway. Both of the boys were married and lived in their own houses on the vast property, but Caleb and his wife were out of town for a wedding. Their children were staying with Elijah and Grace. He swiftly made his way to Caleb's old bedroom and pried open the door. Relief settled in his heart as his enhanced vision spotted three sleeping faces tucked under the blankets. He shut the door and crept down the stairs, listening. Once he reached the entrance hall, he stopped. The soft whisper was back. It was outside, rushing around the house. He exited through the front door and waited. The full moon hung lowly over the distant mountains and lit up the vast plain in front of the house.
There, standing several meters away from him, was a figure shrouded in a dark cloak. The moon would be able to illuminate her face if she lifted her chin, but he already knew who it was. He took his time walking across the plain as relief once again washed over him. It wasn't Mikael, or a stray. His family remained safe.
"You could've sent a letter to warn me," he chastised as he approached her.
Rebekah's eyes roved over him in shock. He couldn't blame her – he had the appearance of a man in his early fifties. The sun had weathered his previously pale skin, and time had taken its toll on his face and hair. He even held himself differently, with a slight hunch to his shoulders, something he had picked up by observing human men who had spent decades doing the same backbreaking work as himself. Of course, for him, it was not hard.
"I didn't believe Riko when she told me," Rebekah admitted in an awed voice.
Elijah smiled. "I'm proud of my wrinkles. And I'm told the grey is quite becoming."
She pulled her hood back, revealing her perfect blond plait, and glanced at the house behind him.
"I didn't mean to alarm you; I wasn't sure I should visit in daylight, when they could see me," she told him.
"Why shouldn't they see you?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I was under the impression you wanted your life here to be quite…separate."
Elijah shook his head. "Family is always welcome, Rebekah." He held out his arms and she folded into his embrace.
"It has been too long, sister," he said.
She pulled out of the hug and wiped her eyes. "Yes, well, we both had our reasons." She pursed her lips as she said it.
He picked up on her light admonishment. "I suppose I have myself to blame for that."
"You did nothing to stop him daggering me - again! Then you abandoned me and waited to tell Caroline for nearly thirty years! Why, Elijah?" she asked in a betrayed voice.
He hung his head in shame. "I was tired of it all. Niklaus was out of control, you were acting childishly, Kol was lost to us, the city feared us. It felt like everything we had accomplished in New Orleans was ruined and it was our own fault. But I am sorry."
She shook her head in disgust and pointedly glared at the endless landscape. "So, you turned your back on the family for this? Gave up New Orleans to be a cattle farmer? Really?"
"I have built a meaningful life for myself here," he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
She scoffed but did not press it further.
"I notice you have no horse, nor have you brought a bag. Did you run through the desert to get here?" he inquired. The idea of his high-maintenance sister running across the Chihuahuan Desert amused him beyond words.
"I ran from the train station, yes. And it really did a number on my shoes," she groused. "I underestimated the distance."
"It's at least a two-day journey by horse. I wanted a location as remote as possible, in case Mikael ever found himself in Texas," he explained.
"Smart."
He tilted his head to one side and studied her. "But why are you here, Rebekah? Don't misunderstand me – I'm pleased to see you. I'm just a little confused by your sudden appearance."
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. A moment went by before she answered. "I was in the area, and I decided it was time to visit."
"But you're not visiting, not really. You couldn't be bothered to send a letter, or visit during the day, or meet my wife," he pointed out, his voice rising.
Rebekah shifted in discomfort – guilt.
Elijah's eyes narrowed and he chuckled darkly, shaking his head in dismay. "You're on your way back to New Orleans, aren't you?"
His sister blushed. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you're a terrible liar. And why else would you be in this part of the world? New Orleans is not far from here - or rather, here is not far from New Orleans."
"I came to see you!" she protested.
"As an afterthought. Why would you leave Paris? Mariko and Caroline told me you were flourishing away from Niklaus," he argued. "New Orleans only promises darkness and treachery."
Rebekah's hands balled into fists and her eyes flashed red. "That's my city, too! I refuse to cower under him. We built it together, as a family. I will reclaim what is mine."
Elijah gazed at her in disbelief. "You're running from Pacari to Niklaus? That is tiringly predictable, Bekah."
"Fuck you, Elijah! At least I'm not hiding in the middle of nowhere, playing bloody make-believe with humans!" she shouted, gesturing towards his house.
"Watch your tongue, sister," he warned.
"Or what? You'll glare at me? You have an image to maintain. You have to keep up the carefully constructed charade."
"The life I have built with Grace is the most human, most truthful I have ever felt in my entire cursed existence. Forgive me, but I thought you once understood what that felt like," he implored her. "Hundreds of years ago, in Peru? I thought if anyone in our family would understand, it would be you, Bekah! Yet here you stand, with your nose so high in the air you can't even see what's right in front of you."
"Enlighten me, brother. What is right in front of me?" she asked, her lips white with fury.
He stepped forward to grasp her upper arms. "Pacari loves you, Bekah. Why do you insist on pushing him away?"
"My relationship with Pacari is none of your business," she snarled, smacking his hands off her.
"And yet you let Niklaus degrade you," he retorted. "He might pretend to be different for a few years, but eventually, he will betray you again. He is incapable of change."
"Perhaps I, too, am incapable of change. Have you considered that, brother?"
"Do not belittle yourself. I have seen you remake yourself many times over. You have shown more growth than any of us. Why are you determined to regress?" he asked.
She clenched her teeth. "I told you, I mean to reclaim my place in our city."
"Keep telling yourself that, but we both know you're going to fall back in with him," he said dismissively.
"SO BLOODY WHAT? He's my brother. Is it so awful for me to miss him? It is not a sin to forgive my brother. You should join us, when you're done here."
He scowled at her. "When I'm done here? Do you mean, when I get tired of playing pretend? Or was that a veiled reference to my wife's inevitable death?"
"Elijah, I didn't mean-" she started.
"Yes - you did," he corrected her. "When Grace leaves this world, I will not be returning to New Orleans, you have my word."
"Why?" she demanded. "It's your city, too!"
"I've had ENOUGH OF YOU TWO!" he roared. Seeing the shocked look on his sister's face, he shook his head in frustration. "You and Niklaus have become toxic, Bekah. When you inevitability fall out again, I would have to pick up the pieces. I refuse."
"Like you did last time?" she fumed. "Don't act like a martyr, Elijah. You left when things got ugly."
"I told you - I was sick of it all," he defended. "Our family was once a united front. What the hell happened to us?"
"Oh, yes, let's force Klaus and Caroline to make up. And I'll remarry Pacari. While we're at it, we may as well un-dagger Finn and Kol, track down Sage, and ask Mariko if she'd mind falling back in love with Kol," she taunted. "Then Caroline and Kol can forget they're mortal enemies - and we'll all live happily ever after!"
"That's enough!"
"Let's both be realistic. I know there's a chance Niklaus will put a dagger in me again – I'm not bloody stupid. But I miss my brother and I miss my city and I will not live in fear. I love you, Elijah, but Nik has always been there for me. Even when he put a dagger in me. In his warped mind, he did it to protect me and keep me close."
Elijah sighed and bit his tongue to refrain from saying anything else on the matter. He could not convince her not to go back, and it was not his job to. He'd said his piece.
"Would you care to stay the night?" he asked tiredly, already knowing the answer.
She shook her head. "I should head back to the station; I'll be able to catch the first train in the morning."
He offered her his hand. She wrapped her smaller ones around it with a minute smile.
"Farewell, sister. Good luck."
"Take care, Elijah," she said before pausing. "I hope – I'm glad you found what you were looking for."
He smiled. "It took lifetimes to accept one simple, yet undeniable fact."
She gave him a questioning look.
"There is endless beauty in the ephemeral," he said.
Rebekah did not respond. She backed away from him with a troubled look on her face and flipped her hood up before turning abruptly. Seconds later, the only evidence of her presence was the trail of dust left in her wake.
Nice, France
1926
Mariko woke to the familiar sound of a camera shutter opening and closing. She furrowed deeper into the sheets with a moan.
"Am I that interesting while I sleep?" she muttered into her pillow without looking up.
Soft fingers stroked down her side. "Inexplicably."
She smiled. The fingers continued their ministrations all the way up to her scalp, where they smoothed her black locks away from her face before pulling away. She heard the camera being adjusted. Seconds later, the shutter moved again.
She rolled over and opened her eyes to the sight of her lover kneeling beside her on the bed, lowering her camera. Ellie had pulled her wavy hair over one shoulder; it rested over the swell of her bare left breast. Her hair was the color found at the bottom of a honey jar and was the same shade as her wide, doe-like eyes. Mariko's gaze slid across her tanned skin admiringly before meeting her open stare.
Ophelia 'Ellie' Zola had taken over her life two years earlier at an art show in Paris. Mariko had been living with Caroline and Pacari in an enormous townhouse on Champs-Élysées, dancing with an avant-garde company, and reveling in the infamous Parisian nightlife. On a quiet Saturday, she had attended an exhibition showcasing up-and-coming photographers. With one look at Ophelia and her quixotic black and white prints, Mariko fell hard. The young artist burst with seemingly endless bounds of energy and an infectious zest for life; she was never off, always on. After a few months together, the witch realized the charming charisma and ceaselessness were covers for a melancholy riddled with pain and trauma. There had been…incidents. Two weeks ago, they had journeyed to the Riviera to escape the pressures and temptations of the city. Ellie was doing better yet the sadness was ever-present in her eyes. Though Mariko sometimes feared it was caused by her immortality and Ellie's mortality, she knew the human's depression went much deeper than that – it was an unescapable sickness. A great fog would cast over her, making her dispassionate and hopeless. Ophelia was the great love of her life, but she knew she had to accept the inevitable. Her centuries had taught her there were those who were only meant to be amongst the living for a very short period of time. The blond was burning out fast on borrowed time.
"Morning," she murmured before twisting up to meet Ellie's lips.
When she started to pull away, Ellie raised her hands to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer, devouring her, teasing her mouth open with unexpected passion.
Mariko lay back down as Ellie's hands massaged her breasts. With one smooth movement, she slid one leg over Mariko to straddle her. She pressed into Mariko's center, eliciting a loud moan from the witch.
Mariko gazed up at her love through hooded lids and caught the haunted look in her eyes. She watched in defeat as Ellie's mask fell back into place; a sexy smirk covered her features, then she lowered her torso to taste Mariko's core.
The Undying Witch writhed in pleasure even as she inwardly mourned. Ellie's refusal to discuss her illness was maddening yet unyielding. Mariko would not force her will on the artist, even as her natural instincts and preternatural psyche warned her the end was near.
She could only savor the few remaining moments they had together.
Berlin, Germany
1933
Caroline sat with one manicured hand resting on the soft velvet tablecloth and the other delicately gripping her cigarette holder between her index and middle fingers. Dewy beads of perspiration dripped down the sides of the gimlet waiting in front of her. The dim lights of the nightclub glinted off the beads of her dress as her eyes snaked around the room, a haughty set to her mouth. As she faked unimpressed boredom, she furtively scanned the club for supernatural creatures. There were two relatively young vampires on the dance floor, both men and both Original Line, and a werewolf was playing sax in the band. While Caroline had her suspicions that the bartender was a medium, she was positive the girls at a table on the balcony were witches. Her eyes focused on a group loitering around the bar – they seemed to be a mix of vampires and witches, which was highly irregular. Though she hoped to glean as much information as possible from this meeting, it was far more important she keep the witch distracted as long as possible. The real mission was Emmeline's reconnaissance of the apartments above the nightclub, which housed the coven's library.
The band segued into a softer, sweeter melody as Caroline finished her cigarette. She sipped her gimlet and waited for the coven leader. Moments later, a tall Aryan woman emerged from the shadows carrying a martini. She had accessorized her silvery gown with pearls, a heavy fur wrap, and white opera gloves. She stopped a few paces away from Caroline's table.
"So, the First Carolinian Hybrid has left her throne in Paris and deigned us with her presence here in Deutschland," she said in a heavy German accent. "Welcome. Here, you are known as Carolina de Frankreich."
Caroline set her drink down, lit a new cigarette, took a long drag, and puffed out a perfect O. "I've been given a lot of fancy titles over the years, but my real one is Caroline, Duchesse d'Ebanne."
The German witch raised one sharply penciled eyebrow. "And how many years has it been, Lady d'Ebanne? The legends tell such conflicting tales."
"I like to keep people on their toes," Caroline deflected. "May we talk business?"
The witch shook her head with a dramatic sigh. "I see you have no love for the art of small talk." She sat down across from her mysterious guest.
"I don't mind small talk," Caroline countered. "What I do mind is the total collapse of the Weimar Republic. What I mind are the rumors that have been reaching me in Paris."
"What does a French hybrid care for the drudgeries of German government?" the witch snapped. "You are in my house because of - rumors and human politics? I think not. The message you sent through your spies was quite vague, but I accepted the meeting out of respect. Perhaps I was mistaken for thinking you were owed it." She brought the martini up to her lips and swallowing deeply. Her lipstick stained the rim of the glass dark red.
"Do not patronize me," Caroline threatened. "You sit here in your pearls and furs, allowing that," she jutted her chin at a pair of businessmen who were proudly displaying their loyalty to the Nazi party on their arms, "To drink your cocktails and fraternize with your neighbors. The Reichstag is burning! Have you no shame? You, who party and booze it up while democracy in this country crumbles beneath your dancing feet."
The witch chewed the inside of her cheeks and said nothing, her face aflame with fury and shame.
"Unless you support the Nazis, and this is not complacency but culpability."
"You know nothing about us!" the German hissed sharply.
"I know enough!" Caroline snapped, letting her silvery-black veins twist her porcelain features for one brief moment.
The witch's eyes widened, and she bowed her head in deference.
"You've heard the legends, but I wager you know only a fraction of what I am capable of," the hybrid threatened. "I demand answers. Is your coven allied with the Nazis?"
"No. We allow them in because we do what we must to survive," the witch admitted. "I will not apologize for it."
"And what about your alliances in America?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," said Caroline, "what did your coven have to do with the fall of New Orleans?"
The witch tapped her fingers on the table and glanced around the club warily. "A young witch came to us about fifteen years back. She told us about a vampire coven, a family, who ruled over her birthplace. This family has existed for centuries upon centuries. The more she described them, the more convinced I became she was referring to the Original Vampires. With your connections, I am sure you know of whom I speak?"
Caroline slid her ring finger through the thin layer of perspiration on her nearly empty glass. "We've crossed paths," she agreed in a flippant tone.
The witch leaned across the table. "The American witch wanted revenge; the one called Klaus had destroyed her life, killed her werewolf fiancé. He'd terrorized her family for generations."
Caroline shook her head. "What did she think a German coven could do about it?"
The witch smirked. "If you're familiar with the Originals, you know of Mikael. Long has my coven had dealings with the Original Vampire Hunter. That is why the American witch came to us. We summoned Mikael, and she told him about his children's city."
Caroline forced herself to show no visible reaction. When she had heard about Mikael sacking New Orleans in 1919, she had been devastated. She couldn't even imagine how Niklaus and Bekah felt. Then Mikael had caught up with them again, in Chicago. Her husband had sent her a letter a few months after, saying he was lying low in New York.
"So, where is Mikael now?" she asked casually.
The German witch shrugged. "Hunting down his children. Last I heard, Canada, but we're not exactly pen pals."
"Do you know of any other covens who are associated with him?"
"There are plenty scattered throughout Europe, certainly. You know this part of the world has a long memory, Hybrid. The Originals have caused much bloodshed." Caroline watched as a thought occurred to the German. "But he does not have any allies in France. Mikael always travels around France, never through it. I wonder why that is?" she prompted coyly.
The hybrid swallowed a laugh. "Mikael and my old coven have a history."
"We reluctantly do occasional business with Mikael, but there is no love lost between us," the witch said, lowering her voice. "He is a boorish man."
"Tell me about it. The amount of times he's tried to disembowel me!" Caroline giggled, understanding the key to gaining the witch's trust was gossip.
The German glanced around the nightclub again before leaning closer to Caroline conspiratorially. "You asked about the Nazis? We let them be, they leave us be. But most of Germany's covens are not so impartial. They are fighting amongst themselves over whether or not to support them."
Caroline's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't aware witches had such an invested interest in human politics."
"We don't, usually. But the Nationalist-Socialists have been quite clear about their agenda – Hitler plans to rebuild the military. There is a growing movement amongst European covens… An idea that began during the Great War," the witch explained. "Supernatural communities are considering the benefits they could reap when the world is distracted; considering the advantages of wartime."
The hybrid laid her clasped hands on the table, leaning towards the German. "You have my full attention."
After her meeting, Caroline sat in the backseat of her car, keeping a lookout for spies. She was waiting for Emmeline, who was still sneaking around the coven's library. Her mind kept repeating the enlightening conversation she had had with the coven leader. The idea that the supernatural community in Europe sought to take advantage of another world war was alarming, but not entirely surprising. Vampires always enjoyed wartime because it made hunting far easier, but it was rare they ever actually provoked political conflict. For witches, it was unheard of. From the German's implications, it seemed Mikael had been sowing discontent for decades. Some wanted more power and freedom, but many aided Mikael out of a desire to end the vampire race.
As Caroline ruminated on the disconcerting information, a movement in the shadows caught her eye, and she leant forward, glancing down the street. Suddenly, the door opposite her was opening. Her fangs descended as she flipped around, snarling.
Time stopped for a single heartbeat, but that was all it took for Caroline's world to realign itself. She felt more alive than she had in decades as Niklaus' gaze burnt into her.
"Caroline," he breathed.
She blinked at him in shock. His dark blond hair was slicked back, longer than his usual style, and accentuated by his elegant evening attire. The streetlight cast an amber glow across his beautiful face. His yearning, vulnerability, guilt, fear, lust, and love were all on display.
"It's been too long, love," he said, reaching into the car, stroking his fingers along her cheek, and gently tucking a stray blond lock behind her ear.
"Nik," she finally whispered, her fangs retracting.
There was no more room for words between them then. His tongue flicked out to tease her upper lip. She parted her lips slightly, and then his open mouth was on hers, demanding entrance, devouring her moans. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him towards her, wanting him as close to her as possible. One of his hands slid under her and grasped her hip, while the other brushed through her hair as their bodies entangled desperately. She yanked his jacket off and he responded by pushing her right sleeve down and palming her breast, his thumb caressing her hardening nipple.
He quickly lost patience with her beaded dress and ripped it open, leaving a large slit up the thigh. He pulled away to hasten out of his pants. Caroline started to pull her undergarments down, but he pushed her hand away, tore the offending garments off, and without a second's hesitation, thrust into her. Both of them groaned as their bodies met for the first time in over a century. Neither were interested in going slow. Their desperation and longing were driving their actions as they clawed at each other. Caroline eagerly met her husband's thrusts, rolling into his hips forcefully. Their warm flesh collided; sliding and slapping with frantic motions. Klaus watched as his wife's pupils dilated, sneaking his hand from her hip to her nub, rubbing into it mercilessly. She hissed from the contact and clenched around him. He growled through his gritted teeth and smacked his right hand into the window behind her as he reangled his body, quickening his pace, thrusting deeper and deeper. As soon as her telltale whimpers filled the steamy car, her body shaking as waves of pleasure pulsated through her, his own body demanded release. He groaned as he spilled into her, his entire body seizing.
They were both still trembling from the pure intensity of their orgasms several long moments later. Klaus rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.
"Hi," Caroline panted. God, how I've missed him.
He smiled deeply, stroking her thigh. "Hello, wife."
Both of them jumped as the door to Klaus' back swung open, revealing Emmeline. Her expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"We are in the middle of a reconnaissance mission, and you're out here having car sex?" she asked in a dry tone.
"It was all a bit unexpected," Caroline offered, tugging at her dress. Klaus pulled his pants back up begrudgingly.
"I'd invite you to join us, Emme, but I don't feel like sharing today," he teased, drawing Caroline closer to him as soon as they were both decent. "I may not feel like sharing again for quite some time."
Emmeline did not even crack a smile. "That's nice. Really lovely. Also, hello, Nik. It's been what – a century and a half?"
"Something like that," he muttered. "You've really caught me at a bad time."
Emmeline scoffed. "Don't lie – both of you finished."
Caroline's jaw dropped. "Emmeline!"
"Apologies, Care; was that not a polite comment? Do you forget I know what both of you sound-?"
"Emmeline, you mentioned reconnaissance," Klaus interrupted. "In light of the circumstances, why don't we finish this conversation elsewhere?"
Emmeline rolled her eyes, snapped the door shut, and walked around to the driver's side. "Now I'm a chauffeur," she grumbled as she started the ignition. "I loathe these infernal contraptions."
Klaus turned back to his wife. "Is your house far?" he murmured.
"No; we'll be there in ten minutes," she said. "How did you find me?"
He smirked. "I knew you'd be in Berlin. Once I arrived, I followed your scent."
Neither of them said anything else for the rest of car ride. Instead, they simply stared at one another, drinking each other in silently while Emmeline traversed the dark streets – the Reichstag fire had quieted the city.
When the hybrid parked in front of the townhouse she and Caroline were living in, she broke the silence.
"I'll come in to discuss what we've learned tonight, but then I'm going out to hunt and investigate the fire. I won't return until dawn." She was giving them privacy.
Klaus helped Caroline out of the car. "You have my sincerest gratitude, Emme."
"I take it you're staying with us?" Emmeline asked, leading the way up the path.
His hand tightened around Caroline's, and they shared a quick, but meaningful look.
"Yes," Caroline answered for him, and watched as a relieved, happy expression settled over his features.
Once they were safely inside the study and Caroline had cast a silencing spell over the room, the two women shared their findings.
"We cannot trust any of the covens or packs in Europe – many are allied with Mikael," Caroline began. "There is widespread warmongering all over the continent, both human and supernatural. My dear father-in-law has been stirring up trouble right under my nose for decades."
Emmeline nodded. "It corroborates with what I found in the coven's library. Not only were there some very dark Expression spell books, but also copious amounts of notes concerning the Originals, the White Oak daggers, and most alarmingly, how to bring someone back from the Other Side."
"Someone?" Caroline repeated sharply. "Esther?"
Emmeline crossed her arms. "If they have an alliance with Mikael, that has to be our assumption."
Klaus growled. "Of course it's my mother."
"What do you think we should do next?" Emmeline asked her sire.
Caroline sighed. "Cast out a network of spies; see how deep this goes."
"I'll send out the word tomorrow, but I should leave next week and make contact with other covens and packs. The longer we let this fester, the worse it will get," said Emmeline.
"I agree. Nik and I will stay here for now to keep an eye on this coven, since they are the ones most connected to Mikael and have notes about resurrecting Esther," Caroline said. "Berlin can be the base of operations."
"Alright. We'll talk more in the morning," Emmeline said, glancing between them. She flashed out of the house.
Now alone, the hybrid couple stared at each other. Niklaus' eyes seared into his wife's, drinking her in. They were finally, finally, reunited. He had been bereft without her and knew he would not be allowing her out of his sight again for a very long time.
"We have some catching up to do," he started cautiously.
Caroline collapsed into a chaise. "Emmeline and I just moved here – not only was the Weimar Republic failing, but witch allies have been imploring me to leave France for years to keep an eye on the rest of Europe. I only hope I didn't heed their warnings too late," she lamented. A moment later, she looked up at him in curiosity. "And you, Nik? Did the chase bring you here?"
He frowned at her assumption, but he knew he couldn't blame her. "I didn't cross the Atlantic to track down Katerina or her doppelgänger, if that is what you're asking. I knew I'd find you in Berlin as soon as I heard the Nazis took power."
"You came here for me?" she asked, her eyebrows raising slightly.
He took a step towards her. "Yes, Caroline. I missed my wife. I hope you don't think I was just dropping by for the night." A shadow darkened his expression. "Although, I've given you plenty of reasons to think so lowly of me."
Caroline shook her head in disagreement. "That's not what I meant. Your last message said you were hiding out in New York; I figured I wouldn't see you for a while," she explained. A sorrowful look crossed her face. "I'm sorry about New Orleans."
A muscle in his jaw twitched; he did not like to think about New Orleans anymore. Even the memory of it had been ruined for him. "We should have seen it coming. Nothing so good could have ever lasted for very long. Not in our family."
Caroline's mouth tightened. "One of the reasons I made contact with this coven was I heard a rumor they helped Mikael track you to New Orleans."
"Did they?" he asked.
"Yes."
He smiled ruefully. "Let me guess – I angered a witch?"
Surprise colored her features. "How-?"
"Caroline, I am well aware of my many sins." He walked over to the chaise and kneeled in front of her. "Why didn't you come back when I daggered my sister?" he asked in a soft voice.
"I hope you didn't dagger her as a ploy to get me back," she said sharply. "I only heard about it last year, and things were already falling apart here. We were nervous. Human and supernatural governments are both fraying, and based on what we have learned tonight, it seems they are also dangerously linked."
He shook his head slowly. "I did not dagger her to bait you, but I did wonder afterwards if it meant I would see you again soon."
"After doing nothing during the French Revolution, I couldn't just sit back and watch the world fall apart under my nose," she explained. "But as soon as things calm down here, we will return to the States, and you will un-dagger her."
Klaus hung his head at his wife's order and reprimand. "It will be done."
"I assume she's in New York?" asked Caroline.
He nodded. "She's safe."
"Niklaus..."
"Caroline," he cut her off. "The years without you have been very difficult for me. Without you, I've been a mess. Even worse than when you last saw me."
"You think I don't know that?"
"I know you do, because I know you sent Mariko to help me in 1897," he stated, fixing her with a knowing look.
A small smile warmed her face. "I would have gone myself, but I wasn't sure if it would be wise."
"You made the right choice; I wasn't ready then to be the husband you deserve."
"I cannot be your moral compass, Nik," she told him warily.
"I know that. I let my fears get the best of me. I was…lonely," he confessed, his thoughts briefly flashing to his darkest days.
Caroline took his hands and kissed them. "I know, my love. But you stabbed the one person who always stayed by your side. The one sibling who always returned to you and forgave you. Rebekah loves you, Nik! She is loyal to you to a fault," she scolded.
"I never said it was rational!" he argued. "I promise you right now that on our return to New York, not only will I take the dagger out of my sister, I will grovel."
"That's all I ask," Caroline told him.
He gaped at her. "Really? That's it?"
"Don't you think we've done enough fighting for a thousand lifetimes, Nik? We've both made mistakes and paid for them. I do not want to live apart anymore," she told him seriously.
"Caroline, I must beg your forgiveness for intruding on your private thoughts. I should not have invaded your memories. I'm so sorry I let Kol's words come between us," he apologized in a broken voice. So many wasted years…
"It was as much my fault as it was yours," she admitted softly. "Pacari and Bekah might have forgiven me for my deceptions, but I do not forgive myself. If I had gone to you in the first place-"
He shook his head. "I understand what it is to hide a terrible secret from loved ones, Caroline. How hard it is to share. But I swear to you, I never regretted telling you I killed Esther. I trust you, Caroline. I have always trusted you."
She stroked his hair. "As I trust you, my husband," she vowed. A slight frown marred her expression. "I want you at my side, but I'm nervous about Mikael. What if he hears you're living in Berlin?"
He smirked and cupped her cheek with a loving look. "I have confidence my beloved wife will protect me."
They both could physically feel it as the tension between them lifted, leaving them with nothing but their burning desire. Klaus traced the pads of his fingertips along Caroline's shoulder, scorching a path on her skin. He placed a single kiss on her neck before blowing gently into her ear. She trembled. Without any warning, he swept her up in his arms, cradled her against his chest, and flashed into the hallway and up the stairs, pausing when he reached the second floor.
"Where-?" he started gruffly.
"First door on the left," she instructed.
He slammed the door open, carried her to the bed, and carefully splayed her across the sateen sheets. He sat beside her and grabbed a fistful of her skirt. With aching slowness, he continued the slit he had made in the car, tearing the lovely dress in two – the champagne-colored beads skidded onto the floor. As he tore, he gradually revealed more of her skin, as if unwrapping a magnificent Christmas present. He kissed her flesh leisurely as he went, appreciating the way she flushed in response to his ministrations. Once she was laid bare before him, he flashed off the bed to rip his own clothes off. He paused as the moment sank in – his beloved wife, waiting for him, wanting him. Her cream-and-roses complexion glowed in the moonlight streaming through the open window. Her breaths came out erratically through her parted lips. The anticipation grew.
"Come, Niklaus," she breathed. "I need you."
It was all the encouragement he could ever ask for. His pupils dilated as he stalked back towards her.
"You need me? Until an hour ago, all I had was the memory of your flesh on mine for over a hundred years. Need does not even begin to describe it, wife. I will have you in every way imaginable, Caroline. I will have you and take you again and again until you've blacked out from the delicious acts I performed on your body," he taunted huskily.
She leaned up on her elbows and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is that a challenge?"
Suddenly, he was upon her, nudging her legs apart and pushing her flush against the bed. He gently scratched his nails along her sides before his hands cupped her backside and squeezed appreciatively. He gave her a wicked grin, then lowered his face to the apex of her thighs and blew down on her nub and soaking folds. She bucked in his firm grip. He flicked out his tongue to tease her, but he only had so much patience. Seconds later, his tongue was twisting into her, licking, massaging, demanding entrance as he pleasured her. The wolf buried deep inside him commanded he prove to his mate that he was the only one who could ever make her feel this way – the only one allowed to pleasure her and witness her abandon. She was his. He was hers.
Her inner thighs and his mouth were both slick from his attentions when he finally came up for air. He leant over her, thrusting into her with no warning at the same time as his mouth found hers. He swallowed her moans, circling his hips languidly. Her hands clawed at his back, clutching him closer, grabbing his backside to encourage him to thrust deeper. He kept his pace slow and steady, adding a very occasional twist to his rhythm.
Her eyes were black as she wrapped her legs around his waist and yanked hard, displaying her strength as she switched their positions and straddled his thighs. She reached up and held onto the wooden ceiling beams for leverage as she sank onto him, rotating her hips. Her breasts benefited gloriously from this new position - a gift Klaus did not ignore. His mouth suckled her left nipple while his hand massaged the right one. His other hand wrapped around her torso to hold her firmly.
"Nik…" she sighed, her inner muscles clenching around his length.
"Not yet, Caroline," he warned.
He tightened his hold on her and rolled them to the foot of the bed, positioning himself to take her from behind. He guided her hands to the bedposts so she could hold herself up, her eyes closing as her dripping folds engulfed him. His own hands found purchase on her hips and he ground into her frantically, losing all sense of time and space. Everything was Caroline. His wolf rejoiced to be reunited with his mate. She shuddered around him, falling against him limply, but he held her up as he came, slapping into her. He roared, his fangs descending. His vision went white as he bit down into her neck and tasted her delicious blood for the first time in forever. Mine, mine, mine.
It was nearly dawn by the time they were ready for a brief hiatus - Klaus had made good on his promise. Neither took for granted the pleasure in simply lying next to each other, limbs entwined in postcoital bliss. They were sweaty, tired, covered in marks, and were drunk on the other's blood – they were sated and content and whole. As Caroline ran her fingers along her husband's toned chest, she voiced a concern she'd forgotten with his unexpected arrival.
"How many witches have you pissed off, Nik?"
His hand did not pause as it lazily traced the contours of her bare back. "Too many to count, honestly," he drawled. "Why?"
"If that coven had the power to sic Mikael on New Orleans, casting you and Bekah out of your city, what else could they do to you?" she worried.
He kissed her shoulder. "We'll worry about that when the time comes, my love."
She frowned, but he was hardening beneath her once more; there would be no more talking for quite some time.
West Texas
1943
When Elijah realized what has happening to him, he felt like he had been doused in ice-water. He backed away from his late-wife's deathbed and grieving family as quietly as possible, striding down the hallway towards a spare bedroom as soon as he was out of sight.
"Father?" Ephraim's alarmed voice followed him down the hall.
"I need a few moments to myself, son," Elijah choked back as he stumbled through the doorway, covered in sweat. He slammed the door behind him. Alone in the dark room, he shakily held his hands up and stared in horror.
"No, please. Just a few days! Let me bury her!" he cried quietly.
But Mariko's spell had already begun to wear off. He watched helplessly as his wrinkled hands reversed in age, plumping up, smoothing out, the age-spots evaporating quickly. He knew his face was returning to its youthful appearance – its true appearance. No longer did he look like a man in his eighties. Once again, he was frozen in time. His family could not see him like this. He hated that they were losing both parents at once. He hated that he could not properly mourn his wife, could not stand with his loved ones as they buried her. He realized with a pang that he should have left years before, staged his death in some way to avoid this. But he had not been strong enough to leave Grace. He had selfishly wanted to savor every moment they had together.
And now he was out of options.
Ephraim knocked on the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Father, but Caleb and I need to go to the funeral parlor. Will you be alright with-?"
"Come inside, son," Elijah interrupted, dread rising in his heart.
Ephraim obeyed, blinking confusedly into the darkness. "Father?"
When Elijah appeared in front of him, the moonlight shining across his handsome features, Ephraim's jaw dropped. He staggered back in shock.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Ephraim recognized the face of the man who had once held him as a small child, but his brain could not allow him to accept the unbelievable.
With tears falling down his cheeks, Elijah's pupils dilated. "Elijah Owens, your beloved step-father, the man you called "Father" for almost your entire life, died in a freak accident this morning, right before your mother died of old age. You will bury them beside each other. If anyone asks why his coffin is closed, it is because he was trampled by a horse – not a suitable sight. Always remember, son, that he loved you so much. Rais - raising you and Caleb was one of the greatest joys of my life."
Ephraim nodded dazedly and walked back down the hallway. Elijah followed him. He'd have to compel all of them. He had no choice. He had to let them all go. Ephraim, Caleb, their wives, the seven grandchildren, and the nine great-grandchildren; all lost to him. Five of Grace's descendants were stationed overseas. He wouldn't even be able to say good-bye to them.
Hours later, he stood outside the post office, a telegram crumpled in his hand. He had planned on sending letters to his siblings to let them know he was leaving Texas, but instead found Caroline's message waiting for him. The urgent telegram from Norway was laced with the family's secret code. Niklaus had been taken.
The North Cape
Norway
1944
Emmeline flung out her arm to telepathically shove the vampire guards into the stone wall. The way before her was clear. She stepped through the entrance of the small room, her hazel eyes roving over Klaus' prison. He had been stored in an open coffin in the middle of the room. His blank, vein-covered face was frozen in a look of horror, but his black eyes flashed in recognition as she approached the coffin.
"Hey, Nik," she greeted grimly, placing her hands on his chest, closing her eyes, and murmuring counter spells.
A few seconds later, there was a noise from the doorway. She snapped her neck around and crouched into a defensive position, her fangs descending.
"It's just me," Mariko told her, her knife still gutted in a witch who was leaning against the wall with blood dripping out of her mouth and a fallen stake at her side. With a terrible heaving motion, Mariko slid the knife out of the woman and re-sheathed it. She rushed over to the coffin and stared down at her old friend. Shouts and cries echoed down the hallway; Pacari and Caroline had their hands full.
"Ah," the Undying Witch said lightly as she assessed the Original Hybrid. "I see. Keep up the counter spell, but he needs to feed," she told Emmeline.
The siphoner hybrid placed her hands back on his chest and continued murmuring while Mariko strode back over to the dying witch and forced her to her feet. She dragged the woman to the coffin and slit her neck, letting the blood drip down into Klaus' mouth.
"NO!"
A band of witches, werewolves, and vampires rushed them. Mariko forced them away with her powers but could not hold them back for long. Emmeline glanced up and noticed Caroline and Pacari creep up from behind.
They did not savor the moment. Instead, the two hybrids slashed, bit, staked, and tore quickly and efficiently. Seconds later, their enemies were defeated. The blood-drenched blond stepped over the corpses to join Emmeline at her husband's side. His color was returning, and Emmeline could see the look of love and relief in Klaus' eyes when he saw his wife. Caroline placed her hand on his head and lovingly brushed his hair out of his face to kiss his cheek.
"Let's get out of here," she muttered.
The old forest rang with the eerie silence unique to isolated places in the dead of winter. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the branches of the evergreens before blanketing the forest floor, as if hushing the landscape to sleep. Elijah could hear the waves lapping against the sides of the mountain in the distant fjord, but other than that – nothing. From his hiding place in the upper canopy of a tall pine, his narrowed eyes swept over the tranquil setting below him, watching, waiting.
Suddenly, a soft hooting noise punctured the deep quiet. The vampire perked up, turning northeast and answering the signal with his own muted hoot.
Two short hoots, then one long one – they had found him. Good. He leaned against a branch and made himself comfortable. He needed to stay and keep watch for Mikael until the rest had gotten Niklaus far away from here.
Even desiccated, Niklaus had proven to be his most demanding sibling. When Elijah had arrived in war-torn France the previous month, Caroline had explained the situation as succinctly as possible: Niklaus had made too many witch enemies, and they had taken their revenge. He had been startled to learn this was also why they had lost New Orleans. A Nordic coven, aided by a werewolf pack and several vampires, had desiccated and hidden him, presumably until Mikael arrived. They weren't sure how much time they had, so they had to act swiftly. Caroline and Mariko had found the coven's location a few days earlier. Rebekah was apparently in New York, Abambe had to guard the school, and Gita had been unreachable in the Far East, so the rescue squad consisted of himself, Mariko, Caroline, and Emmeline, with Pacari joining them at the last minute.
The vast scope of the conspiracy Mikael had led was astounding. When Caroline had explained how gradually and carefully his father had spread savagery and discord amongst the supernatural community in Europe, he had been ashamed of his ignorance. He was eager to help Caroline free his brother and defeat the warmongering covens and packs.
Besides, fighting Mikael and witches in Scandinavia was a far more appealing option than dealing with his overwhelming grief.
When Klaus came to, the first thing he registered was his wife's hand clutching his own – he would recognize that touch anywhere. He blinked, acclimating his eyes to the bright room.
"We're in a safehouse in Norway," Caroline soothed.
He sat up and tried to remember – the coven with their vampire and werewolf allies descending on him and Caroline in Copenhagen; they'd been outnumbered. He had been cursed, desiccated.
"Mikael?" he asked.
She shook her head. "He's probably up north discovering all the bodies we left behind. But he can't find us here."
He nodded slowly.
"Come on – let's feed you. Everyone is waiting to see you," she said.
Their refuge was an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Tromsø. Caroline led him down the stairs and into the front parlor. Emmeline and Mariko were sitting at a table, deep in conversation.
"Nik!" Mariko cried, rising to her feet to peck him on the cheek. "Feeling alright?"
"I'll live," he grumbled.
Emmeline stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You've been nothing but trouble for a little too long now, Klaus. Perhaps you should consider a vacation?"
He smirked. "As soon as we've ended this war, Emme, I promise I will take Caroline far away and live a simple life for many decades."
She snorted in disbelief and sat back down, gesturing towards the notes and maps laid on the table.
"We've been strategizing. Spain, Italy, and Germany are all," she started to explain, but was distracted by Pacari's entrance – and the look on his face.
The Incan hybrid's entire frame shook as he glared at Klaus with palpable loathing.
"Good – you're awake," he said shortly before flashing forward, winding his fist back, and punching Klaus in the jaw with so much force, the Original Hybrid collided into the glass table. Emmeline and Mariko jumped to their feet as it shattered. The earsplitting noise echoed through the mansion.
"Pacari!" Caroline shouted as Pacari raised his fist again and Klaus struggled to stand. "He's still recovering!"
"Then maybe we'll actually have a chance at a fair fight," Pacari spat out.
Obviously concerned by the noise, Elijah appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze taking in the broken table, his brother sprawled on the floor with Caroline standing protectively over him, and Pacari shaking with fury in front of them.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded as he swept into the room.
Pacari sneered down at Klaus. "I take it Elijah has no idea?"
"No idea about what?" Elijah asked in a soft voice that carried a subtly menacing undertone. He paused next to the Incan hybrid.
Klaus rose to his feet, glass shards pouring off his frame and hitting the floor. He wiped his jaw; Pacari's blow had drawn blood.
"She's perfectly safe," he hissed. "But do hit me again, Pacari. I love a good fight."
As the two men lunged for each other, Caroline raised her arms and blasted them apart. Pacari went flying into the opposite wall while Klaus skidded across the floor.
"Who is perfectly safe?" asked Elijah, his eyes on his brother.
"He daggered Rebekah again, Elijah!" Pacari answered from behind him.
The brothers shared one long, terrible look. Elijah ended it when he closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Elijah, there was so much at stake here," Caroline offered quietly. "As soon as the war is over, we're returning to New York and he's taking it out," she promised. Elijah did not respond.
"You are poison, Klaus. If your death wouldn't devastate Rebekah, I'd have happily let Mikael end you," Pacari snarled. He vaulted to his feet and looked at Caroline. "You swear he'll take it out?"
"You have my word," she vowed.
He nodded. "I'm returning to Russia."
Without another word, he was gone. A grim silence fell over the room, with Caroline glancing nervously between her husband and brother-in-law. Mariko and Emmeline seemed to be frozen in shock. Eventually, a strange noise began rumbling from deep within Elijah's chest. As it grew louder, Klaus realized it was laughter.
When Elijah reopened his eyes, Klaus saw the hint of madness in them.
"I warned her," Elijah choked out. "When last I saw Bekah, I told her this would happen. And did she listen? Of course not. She's as sick as you are. I don't know why I let you keep Finn daggered for all these centuries; he'd have been much better company than my younger siblings. Being stuck with you and Rebekah and Kol has been the greatest burden of my existence!"
"Well, then, brother. Perhaps you shouldn't burden yourself any longer," Klaus drawled, rising to his feet.
"No. Perhaps I shouldn't," Elijah agreed. "You know, I used to think you could be redeemed. I imagined the day when you would finally act like you were worthy of the power you've been given, equal to the wife who usually has less patience for you than I do. Now I see that day will never pass. You brought all this upon yourself: terrorizing witches in our city. Your actions caused New Orleans to fall! Caroline, why are you here? Why are any of us here? You were doing just fine without him – we all were. Pacari was right. Niklaus is better off alone."
Caroline's jaw dropped in horror. "Elijah, please don't say things you don't mean. If Mikael found him, he would have killed him!"
Elijah brushed her off and stepped towards his brother to deliver the final blow. "Mikael always called you weak. Perhaps you have proven him wrong physically - but your soul? Your soul has never been weaker."
Elijah walked out of the room at a human's pace, as if daring his brother to follow him. But Klaus did not. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emmeline tap Mariko's arm and glance pointedly to the door. They left him alone with his wife. His brother's words flashed across the forefront of his mind, sending him spiraling.
"Nik!" Caroline yelled, running to his side and tugging at his left hand until he unfurled his fist.
He had been clenching a shard of glass so tightly it had punctured straight through his hand. His blood was all over the floor. He looked at it blankly. Intrinsically, he knew he was trembling all over, but he did not feel it.
"Niklaus!"
His wife's warm hands were running over his face, her blue eyes watering as she took in his expression. "It's going to be okay; we'll figure this out. Don't shut me out," she pleaded. "I've only just got you back. Again."
He bowed his head and shook off his momentary lapse of…humanity? Sanity? He wasn't entirely sure, nor did he intend to find out. He would do anything Caroline asked. He needed to stay strong, for her, for them. For himself. He knew he had made many mistakes, but he could not spend his life apologizing. He was a man of action. They would continue their mission as if he had never been taken, and then they would return to New York when the war was over so he could un-dagger his sister. After that… Freedom. He and Caroline would be able to live their lives in peace. He owed it to her.
A/N: This chapter is very involved. I wish I had the room to spread it out over two chapters, but there wasn't enough content in the modern-day narrative to justify doing so. To clarify, this is the last time Elijah sees Caroline, Rebekah, or Klaus before the events in Chapter One. Thanks for reading! ~L