Chapter Thirty

Goodnight Moon

Al Asad Airbase, Iraq

Christmas Day, 2007

"And good night to the old lady whispering, 'Hush.' Good night, stars. Good night, air. Good night, noises everywhere." The soldier finished reading the book and laid it down beside him. He leaned into the screen. "Merry Christmas, baby girl."

In his wife's arms, their two-month-old daughter blinked at him drowsily from beneath the hood of a Winnie the Pooh onesie.

"She's gotten so big," he choked out.

His wife smiled sadly. "They grow fast when they're this little. My mom told me she'll probably have to go up another size soon."

He nodded, unable to speak. Their daughter started dozing off.

"You should put her to bed," he said softly, his eyes focused on the infant.

"You'll try to get in a call on New Year's?" his wife asked hopefully.

He nodded. "I'll do my best, honey."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. So much. You have no idea how much I wish I were there."

They ended the Skype call and he stood up, stretching. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. As he started to walk towards the door, he paused. His senses were going haywire – it was an unwelcome feeling he was all too familiar with. He twisted around sharply, pulling out the stake he kept on him at all times in case of emergencies.

A tall man with pale skin and dark hair had appeared in the middle of the room. His eyes seemed to glow in the shadows.

"Cherish them when they're this young. Children are filled with such resentments as they grow up," the vampire crooned.

"Not another step, vampire!" the soldier warned, raising his stake.

"I cannot be killed by so weak a weapon," the vampire said arrogantly, stepping towards him.

The soldier flung the stake across the room; it embedded deeply in the vampire's left breast. The vampire sighed before pulling it out and raising his eyebrows.

"My name is Mikael. Does that name mean anything to you?"

The soldier frowned. "The Original Vampire?"

"The Original Vampire Hunter. You are a member of the Five. Why you are here, and not slaying vampires?" he asked.

The solider weighed his options as he stared in shock at the bloody stake. He folded his arms and gave the vampire a curt nod.

"It started after I returned from my first deployment. I didn't understand it, but suddenly, I recognized blood-drinkers and was compelled by an overwhelming urge to slay them. I was sneaking out of the house every night - my wife didn't know what to think. I managed to control it somewhat, enough to allay her fears. Then I went on my second deployment and completely ignored the impulse while on active duty. It was either learn to suppress the instinct or get court marshalled. Luckily, there aren't many vampires in the desert. When I came back, the impulse was stronger than the first time. Another Hunter found me and told me about the Brotherhood of the Five. We drove out to L.A. and staked anything that looked at us funny. The damn mark just kept getting bigger and bigger. And then… I stopped."

"What? How? The impulse went away?"

"Oh, no. I still wanted to kill vampires. But my wife was pregnant. Suddenly, there were more important duties. Then I got notice I was being sent here again – so I went on a little spree right before shipping out, to make sure I didn't have any issues. But I don't care about these marks or what they mean. I never have."

"You've suppressed the compulsion to kill vampires?" Mikael asked in shock.

The soldier shrugged. "I had responsibilities. Now, what do you want?"

"I must confess, I was expecting to find a Hunter much more invested in his life's purpose," Mikael admitted, tapping the bloodied stake against his thigh. "Is the Mark complete?"

"Not really certain, but yeah, I think so."

"Will you join me in the search for Silas?"

"No."

"What if I asked for the location of the rest of the Brotherhood?"

The soldier smirked. "Sorry, vampire. Not going to happen."

The hunter and the vampire stared at each other, assessing. Suddenly, an unnatural wind blew through the room.

"You don't need him; take the Mark…" it whispered.

The soldier froze in alarm, glancing around the room. The vampire, however, did nothing but nod his head obediently. "Yes, wife."

The soldier's eyes widened.

"If you give me pictures of the Mark, I'll leave quietly. You'll never see me again. If everything goes according to plan, Silas will be dead in a few years, and every vampire on earth will either be cured or killed," Mikael promised. "I would prefer to keep things simple and kill all my children, but, alas, my wife has a softer heart than I."

"And if I refuse?"

"My vampires kill you and go through all your personal contacts until they find the rest of the Brotherhood."

"Killing me will curse any vampire."

"That is a price my warriors are willing to pay."

"A man who isn't brave enough to make the same sacrifice he asks of his troops is not worthy of leading."

"I am no hero, Hunter. Do you accept my offer?" Three more vampires suddenly appeared in the room - Mikael's minions.

The solider recognized he'd been backed into a corner. After a tense pause, he began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the incredibly intricate images inked on his skin.

"Take the pictures, and get the fuck out. I never want to see another vampire again."

Tauranga, New Zealand

January 2008

Hayden flashed a smile at the barista when he placed the steaming cup of Colombian coffee in front of her. It was a red eye; she was never able to get a full night's sleep anymore.

"Enjoy, er, Ana," he said, squinting his eyes to read the name the cashier had dutifully scribbled onto the white cup.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Her chipped black polish contrasted starkly against the white cup; the sun glinted off her various rings as she clutched the precious elixir with both hands and walked to a table in the courtyard. It was around 65 degrees; a little cool for the North Island in mid-summer, but she didn't mind. A cruise ship blasted its horn in the nearby harbor as Hayden pulled her journal out of her bag with the intent of getting some writing done until it was time to start her shift a few hours later. Before opening it, she took another gulp of the hot liquid and was suddenly overcome with the sensation she was being watched. She turned slightly in her seat to check.

The woman wore very dark and glamorous sunglasses that did a very good job of obscuring her face, but Hayden could tell she was Asian. Her jet-black hair hung in an artfully mussed bob that framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. She wore intricate silver earrings and nude lipstick. A black leather jacket lay in the chair next to her, unassuming. Her formfitting outfit of a black crop top, high-rise jeans, and knee-length black suede boots revealed her fit body - a body that Hayden would ordinarily ogle, except, the woman was staring right at her.

To be fair, the sunglasses were so dark that the woman's eyes might have been shut for all that Hayden could tell. But besides the way the woman held herself, with her back straight and her body attentive, Hayden simply felt the mysterious stranger's stare.

Hayden mentally berated herself for getting spooked. So, what if the woman was staring at her? Let her. She wasn't bad to look at. She slowly turned around in her seat and bent over her journal after taking a long sip of coffee. She soon forgot the woman as she immersed herself in storyboarding her graphic novel. The plot focused on a teenage girl who gets lost in the woods and runs into an older girl who promises to show her home, but instead brings her to a majestic waterfall the girl had never known existed before. Metaphors were Hayden's weakness.

After a steady two hours of sketching and writing, she checked her watch. She had 45 minutes to get to work; it was time to go. As she gathered her belongings, she was shocked to see that the mysterious stranger, the woman with the black hair, was still sitting at the table behind her, and she was still looking at her.

Hayden frowned, trying to suppress any fears that the woman was sent to find her. It was an accident. Besides, you covered your tracks. Mom is back with her tribe, protected. She shrugged her bag onto her shoulder and quickly left the courtyard, pausing at the exit to glance back at the woman again. She had turned her head and was watching Hayden. Hayden shivered and headed to work, trying to shake off her fears.

Ten hours later, the dark streets of Tauranga were eerily silent. The moon was only a sliver, its pale reflection shimmering in the harbor as Hayden glided through the alleys to return to the tiny flat she was renting. It wasn't much, but it would do, temporarily.

Once she reached the door to the apartment building, she pulled the key out of her pocket, and made to unlock it. A strange sensation overcame her as she grasped the metal, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. Hayden knew she was more than capable of defending herself, but she couldn't help feeling disturbed for the second time that day. She quickly turned around, checking the area for anyone who might be watching. There was no one. Rolling her eyes at herself, she let herself in and walked up the narrow steps to the fourth floor of the building, where she unlocked the door to her studio. She flicked the lights on and threw her bag onto the low bed before heading to the kitchen area and getting herself some water.

"You're being stupid. No one can find you here, Hayden," she scolded herself lowly.

She gulped down the water quickly and placed the glass in the sink. She threw her jacket on a chair and headed to the bathroom, where she started the shower. She pulled her shirt up as she walked back to the bed to grab her iPod, one of the only items she had kept from her previous life. As her fingers wrapped around the cool, comforting device, she noticed something odd on the bed: an envelope she was certain had not been there when she had left in the morning.

It was a strange envelope, too. It looked like it was made of expensive paper and had no name or address on it. She dropped the iPod and grasped the envelope, ripping it open with a frown. God, I hope Mrs. George put this here, she thought to herself as she pulled out a piece of heavy paper. As soon as she read the words, she knew it was definitely not a note from the landlady. The words were few, but succinct.

I know you, Hayden Toomaga.

Tears immediately blurred Hayden's vision as panic overtook her. She dropped to the floor and checked under the bed to see if there was anyone there. Of course, there wasn't; not even a small child could fit under that bed. Undeterred, she checked the cupboards, cabinets, pantry, and small closet before turning towards the bathroom and checking under the sink and in the tub, which was getting very steamy. She locked the three little windows and checked to make sure the locks on the front door were all working.

She leaned against the door and tried to catch her breath. She stared down at the letter before slowly ripping it into fine pieces, which she then brought to the kitchen sink. She'd told Mrs. George the fire alarm's battery was dead the previous week, but now she was thankful for having a slumlord. As she watched the flames devour the only proof of her real identity in the entire flat, she started planning the next step. She needed to leave Tauranga in the morning. It was no longer safe here.

The next morning was dark and gloomy, the kind that made her want to curl back under the covers and pretend to be sick so she could stay home and watch movies all day. It would even sometimes work on her mother. Thinking of her mother made Hayden immediately get out of bed and begin packing, brushing all thoughts of her former life out of her head. All of her personal items fit into her large orange duffel and black backpack. She wouldn't even need to speak to the landlady because the week's rent was already paid, and the sheets and dishes all came with the flat. Once packed, Hayden did a quick wipe down to rid the room of fingerprints and swept the floors. She slipped the key under Mrs. George's door as she passed it on her way out, along with a short note explaining she was leaving.

Due to the fog, Tauranga was even cooler than the previous day. The air was saturated with the taste and odor of salt. Hayden found herself at the harbor, staring out into the ocean, wondering if she should stowaway on a ship. After the accident, she should have left the country, but she'd foolishly clung to the hope that this would all go away. It was time to face reality. New Zealand couldn't be her home anymore.

The thought that someone had found her gnawed at her insides. Who can it be? Police? A family member seeking revenge? She let her musings delay her as she stared down into the churning grey water.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She held back from screaming, but only just. She whipped around and tried to land a punch, but the woman was too quick, easily sidestepping her fist.

"Feisty, aren't you?" she taunted with a smirk.

Hayden froze in shock. It was the same mysterious stranger from the day before, the one who had been watching her. She was wearing Doc Martens, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket over a tank top that revealed just the tiniest sliver of her flat stomach. Dark-tinted Ray-Ban aviators hid her expression from the teenager.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?"

"Please calm down, Hayden. I just want to talk," the stranger said in a musical voice.

"My name is Ana Quinn," Hayden lied between gritted teeth.

The black-haired woman shook her head in amusement. "I always wonder how people come up with their aliases. But your birth name is lovely, Ms. Toomaga. Suits you much better than Ana."

Hayden glared at her. "Don't say that name! You're the one who sent me the note, aren't you?"

The woman grinned. "I've been following you for a while, my friend. I know everything about you," she said. She took a step back and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. "And I know a lot about wanting to change names, though I suspect you've only changed yours out of necessity. My name of choice is Riko d'Ebanne."

Hayden blinked in bewilderment as she took in "Riko's" full appearance. She was beautiful beyond belief, with shockingly surreal eyes the color of amethyst. The teenager was close enough to see she was not wearing contacts.

Riko offered the young woman her hand. "Please accept my apologies for frightening you."

Hayden gaped at her before shaking her head and grasping the hand proffered to her.

"I understand you're on the run for killing a man," Riko continued casually. "I also know that when you killed him in defense of your mother, you experienced a massive change in your body. A change that only occurs on the full moon."

Hayden's jaw dropped. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I'm a witch, my little werewolf friend. I'm here to offer you sanctuary at a very special school…"

Notting Hill

London, UK

March 2008

Rebekah slowed her blue Fiat to a crawl at the curb in front of the house before shifting into park. She left it idling; she hadn't made up her mind whether or not to go inside. As she drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the steering wheel, her gaze wandered over her destination. The three-story rowhouse was beautiful: stately, but not flashy. Though English ivy snaked between the black trim, shutters, and flower boxes, it did not completely obfuscate the white brick façade that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The small front yard was fenced in by elegantly crafted wrought iron, which barely contained the overflowing garden bursting with azaleas and roses. The overall effect was charming and sophisticated - it was so Caroline. She could spot said blond in the large bay window pretending to read a book. She knew Caroline was desperate to rush out the door and greet her but was holding back, so as to not scare her away. When her sister-in-law and best friend had texted her that morning, she'd been wary. They were in almost constant contact and saw each other often, but Rebekah had been stubbornly keeping her distance from her brother. They hadn't spoken since the mess in Chile with Mikael.

She could hear Niklaus inside. He was painting in his studio on the third floor, no doubt oblivious as to who was outside his front door. When Rebekah had bought her flat in Chelsea, she knew a confrontation with him was inevitable. If she was being honest with herself, that's why she'd moved to London in the first place. She missed him. She glanced down at her phone and reread the message that had brought her here.

Bekah, Nik's sources have given him urgent intel that could affect us all. Please come to our house in Notting Hill. It has long been time for the two of you to reconcile.

With a deep sigh, she turned the car off and opened the door. As she slammed it shut, she saw Caroline stand up to put the book away, deliberately taking her time. Once Rebekah banged the old-fashioned brass knocker, she knew there was no going back. The black door swung open and Caroline was upon her, simultaneously hugging her and pulling her inside.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she squealed, shutting the door behind them as she half-dragged her sister-in-law into the house.

Rebekah patted her best friend on the back and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to jump all over me, Care. We saw each other yesterday," she drawled.

Caroline pulled away. "Yes, but you haven't been to the house yet! I'll give you a tour! I opted to go for Art Nouveau décor, but as you can imagine-"

Caroline stopped talking when her husband appeared at the top of the staircase leading to the foyer. He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a plain white tee, both splattered with paint. His face was blank with shock.

"Bekah," he exhaled.

Rebekah set her jaw. "Niklaus," she said coolly.

Caroline looked between the siblings apprehensively and bit her lip.

"Why don't we sit in the living room and catch up?" she suggested, her voice higher than usual.

Rebekah shrugged and led the way into the front living room. Caroline exchanged a glance with her husband and started to follow, but Niklaus flashed down the stairs to stop her.

"Caroline," he started warningly. "What are you doing?"

She frowned. "Just trust me, Nik. You know you missed her."

Without another word, she entered the living room and flung herself onto a couch. Rebekah was perched awkwardly on the piano stool. Niklaus stuck his thumbs in his front pockets and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Well, Caroline? Is Nik's intel really so urgent or was that simply your excuse for getting me here?" Rebekah demanded.

Across the room, Nik raised his eyebrows and looked at his wife.

"You told her about Africa?"

"Hadn't quite gotten to that yet," Caroline started, but she was interrupted by her phone vibrating. There was a short pause as she pulled it out.

"Africa?" Rebekah repeated. "What does Africa have to do with anything?"

"Nik, explain," Caroline ordered, frowning down at her screen. "I have to take this," she apologized as she left the room.

Niklaus sighed in annoyance and glanced at his sister. Rebekah crossed her arms.

"So, explain then."

"I've been hearing a lot of funny rumors," he began. "Whispers that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Some of my most trusted witches have recently informed me that there is an immortal witch, apparently far older than us, whose body is hidden away in a secret location. This all-powerful, ancient creature has been desiccated for thousands of years. Sources say his awakening will lead to the apocalypse."

Rebekah rolled her eyes in disinterest and checked her French manicure for flaws. "So, don't bloody wake him up. End of story. Was there anything else?"

He took a step towards her. "There was something else, now that you mention it. Someone is searching for his body. Someone out there is trying to wake him up."

Rebekah lowered her hand slowly as she looked up at her brother. "Who?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I think it goes without saying that either way, we need to make sure this Immortal Witch does not rise."

Rebekah narrowed her eyes. "What's in Africa? The hiding place for this creature?"

He shook his head. "I do not have any leads about where his body is hidden. But all my sources are telling me the best place to start research is in lower Africa, mostly among Namibian covens."

"Ah, so it's a quest to chase legends, is it?"

"It is strictly a fact-finding mission," he clarified.

"And you want me to come with you?"

"Well, I think Caroline is hoping for that, but I do not hold my breath waiting for miracles."

"And?" she demanded angrily. "Is that all you have to say to me after all this time?"

He sighed. "I apologized for daggering you when you first woke up. What's done is done, Bekah."

She glared at him.

"Fine. My sincerest apologies for stabbing you in the heart, sister."

"Twice," she corrected.

"Twice," he repeated. "I was out of control without her, Bekah."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Understatement of the bloody century, Nik. I missed a large chunk of the 19th century because of you. And the Second World War."

"I think you should be thanking me for the latter, Bekah. It wasn't exactly a stroll in the park," he said smoothly. "I also saved you the misery of the Great Depression."

She scoffed. "As if you planned it that way."

"I'm making an effort here."

"No, Caroline is making an effort."

"I won't deny it; she's always been far too good for me."

"Don't worry, brother. We all know that," Rebekah said, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. "The family is well-aware of your many shortcomings."

He frowned. "Speaking of the family, Elijah hasn't been in contact with you, has he?"

"No. He's still hiding. I wonder why…" she trailed off sarcastically.

"I don't care that he's pissed at me, he had no right to shut out everyone else," he retorted.

Rebekah sighed. "He's…sad, Nik. I'm not saying I'm not bloody pissed at him, but I understand it."

Caroline reentered the room.

"Everything all right, love?" Niklaus asked her, his tone shifting dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. "Pacari got all worked up over nothing; one of his students was trying to summon a portal and…" She stopped herself with a swift look at Rebekah.

Immediately, memories flashed through Rebekah's mind.

She remembered exchanging marital vows with a stranger in the flickering light of a fire.

She remembered his nervous but eager energy as she took his virginity.

Long talks in the middle of the night, nestled in their bed, in the house they'd built with their hands.

The awful confrontation in New Orleans.

Stumbling into him in Paris.

His hands caressing her calf, sliding up ever-so gently.

Chile.

Rebekah pretended she hadn't heard Caroline mention her ex's name. "Why do you want me to go with you two?"

Caroline's face scrunched up. "Actually, I'm not going to Africa."

"Why not?" Rebekah demanded while Niklaus gave his wife a searching look.

"Look, I know the two of you really miss each other. It's time you repair your relationship, try to learn to trust one another again. I can only mediate so much before turning into a nag. I have many degrees, but psychiatry is not one of them."

"Caroline," Niklaus started.

"Don't put me on a pedestal, Nik. You may have been the one to dagger Bekah, but it was my mistakes which led you down that path."

Niklaus glanced from his wife to his sister, who swung around on the stool to face the baby grand. She pressed one long finger into the keyboard, followed by another, then another. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata began to soften the tension in the room. Rebekah was a musical genius, but she did not often display it.

"Namibia? You know I hate sand," she murmured, her eyes closed.

Niklaus grinned. "At least it will be better than dreary old London."

Without missing a note, Rebekah's left hand continued playing while her right gestured towards the bay window. "It's sunny today."

"Anomaly."

"There's a lot to do in this city," she argued. "Distractions."

"Not anything you can't find in other global cities. Come on, when was the last time you were in Africa?"

"I own a house in Alexandria," she shot back.

"Egypt and Namibia are not the same."

"Sand."

"Namibia boasts much more varied wildlife than Egypt," he tried. "The humans have tastier blood."

She hung her head to one side as she played. "An all-powerful ancient creature who could bring the apocalypse?"

"It will be a new adventure."

Rebekah did not answer. Instead, she finished the first movement and continued through the second. By the time she reached the third, her body was fully engaged. Caroline walked over to her husband and leaned into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. They watched in silence as Rebekah played, her shoulders tense, veins protruding, and fingers impossibly delicate, with the air of someone exorcising all her demons. As she poured her fear and anger into the instrument, it symbiotically revitalized her.

Finally, as the Original struck out the final chords, she spoke.

"I'll think about it."

Des Cendres

Southern Tibet

July 2008

The sun shone brightly on the courtyard as the girls bustled around tending to the herb garden. Pacari kneeled beside one of them. The ten-year-old had pushed both her hands into the soil and was muttering under her breath with closed eyes. He figured she was attempting to bring the belladonna bush in front of her back to life. After a few moments, she sat back on her heels, hissing in frustration.

"Don't bother with incantations, Ellie. Just focus on the herb. Feel it, listen to it," he advised.

She glared at the deadly nightshade. "How can I feel it if it's dead? The essence of life is gone."

He grinned at her, taking her hands and placing them on the delicate stem. "Like this."

Suddenly, the brown, deadened leaves turned green and wick. The purple flowers bloomed. Ellie gasped in shock.

"It ain't that deep, kid," the hybrid told her with a wink.

When the class ended, it was lunchtime. Pacari went to the teacher's lounge to grade essays on the lunar cycle and have a blood bag. Emmeline was sitting at the table on her laptop, staring at the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. Beside her, Gita was talking to another teacher, a vampire-werewolf hybrid named Naomi.

"She's focusing on control," Naomi was saying. "She wants to have control of her own mind when she turns, and she wants to control her anger."

"And has she expressed interest in hybridism?" Gita asked.

Naomi shook her head. "She said reining in the wolf is hard enough – dealing with bloodlust would be too much for her right now."

Pacari opened the fridge to pull out a bag of O-Neg. "Are you talking about the Maori werewolf?"

"Hayden has a lot of potential," Naomi confirmed. "She just needs guidance."

He sat down and ripped open the bag. "She spends a lot of time in the Sunyata Sanctuary."

"Which helps," said Gita. "It also helps that Mariko went back to New Zealand to clear her name."

"Enough well-placed compulsion and spells, and she could take over the world," Pacari joked. He glanced at Emmeline; her expression had gone from focused to stunned. "Something up, Emme?"

"One of my descendants is going to college in Virginia. Her new boyfriend is from a little town in the middle of the state called Mystic Falls."

Gita and Pacari exchanged a look of surprise.

"Isn't that where Rebekah and her brothers were born?" Gita asked.

"Correct. As you can imagine, I got a little curious. And it's paid off. I just found a picture of a group of high schoolers from Mystic Falls. One of the girls looks startlingly familiar," she told them in a hushed voice. "Come take a look."

Gita leaned over to peer at the screen while Pacari leapt across the table. The Facebook page featured an image of a brunette teenager wearing a cheerleader uniform. She was unmistakable.

Pacari let out a low whistle. "How can we be positive it's not Katherine? It's unlikely she'd be caught dead in a pleated mini skirt, but I know better than most the lengths she'd go to to disappear."

Emmeline clicked around a few more times and showed them a photo album from the year before. "Because this girl is aging."

Gita's eyes widened. "She is the doppelgänger."

Five minutes later, they were on the phone with Caroline.

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

August 2008

Elijah sensed her presence the moment she entered the church. He could smell her, hear her, feel her. There were not many vampires he had become so attuned to over the years, but she was a special case. He could almost taste her trepidation as she slowly made her way down the nave. It had been a long time.

She paused once she reached his row and cleared her throat to say in her signature raspy voice: "Does anyone ever talk back?"

Elijah kept his eyes closed. "I come here for peace and quiet."

"Nice greeting."

"What are you doing here?"

He could feel her drop into the pew, and her spicy perfume wafted over him. "My usual reasons – information, leverage, scheming, etcetera."

He sighed, opened his eyes, and turned towards his companion. Katerina Petrova wore a little black dress, a designer hat fitted with a birdcage veil, diamond-encrusted platinum jewelry, and sky-high stilettos.

"Did someone murder your drug-lord husband, or are you about to audition for The Real Housewives of Rio?"

"Very funny, Elijah. I'm in disguise, of course. Wouldn't want to call attention to myself."

He rolled his eyes. "Ah, no. You'd never want that."

"And you've never been the religious type."

The humor evaporated from his expression. "As I said, I come here for peace and quiet. It's not about faith. It's about silence. Focus. Stepping away from the frantic pace of the city, and into a sanctuary. The religion itself is…flawed. As are all."

Katherine tilted her head to the side as she appraised the altar. "I'm well-aware I wasn't a very good Catholic when I was human, but I've come to admire the whole institution over the centuries. Transubstantiation, miracles, absolution through confession, the mass: it's all so flamboyant, decadent, mystical - seductive, even. Catholics never do anything halfway, and they never apologize for anything - especially not for their love of gilded decor. Go big or go home, I say."

He scoffed. "Your life's credo, Katerina."

"The same could be said for your charming family," she shot back. "Maybe that's why our fates entwined."

He smiled without humor. "Fates? Was it fate that turned my brother into a stubborn maniacal fool who has failed to learn the most basic lessons about life?"

"Ouch. Hope he doesn't hear you," she said drily, crossing her toned legs.

"Let him. I don't care."

Katherine sent him a sidelong glance. "Have you turned it off, Elijah?" she asked with real curiosity – perhaps even a hint of sadness, too, unless he was imagining things.

"I tried. But turning it off is just a trick of the mind," he told her in a haunted voice. "I realized long ago we can't numb our emotions - not really. No, I simply do not fear Niklaus anymore."

"Must be nice," she drawled. "Me, on the other hand? My very healthy fear of Klaus has kept me alive for five hundred years."

"Alive, yes. Living, though? In all your time roaming earth, have you spent a single second actually living, Katerina?" Elijah leaned towards her, trying to discern her expression through the veil.

She shifted uncomfortably and turned her face away from him, setting her jaw. "I'm a survivor."

He chuckled darkly. "I would never deny that, old friend."

"And you? Since you're an expert on seizing the day, what does the self-righteous Elijah Mikaelson do to pass the time?"

Elijah looked up at the altar again. "Living a full life comes with risks," he answered honestly after a brief pause. "Sometimes, you lose those you love."

"You think I don't know what that feels like?"

He turned to her with ashamed compassion. "Apologies, Katerina."

She waved him off. "Who do you mourn, Elijah?"

His expression closed. "People worth missing," he said with a hint of warning in his tone.

"So you're living in exile. I understand the urge – as you can imagine, I have trust issues."

The Original closed his eyes and sighed. "Katerina, I've attempted subtlety, but you are not picking up on my rather obvious warnings. Either state your purpose or leave me be. You will find me impervious to your games and flirtations," he said, opening his eyes. "This past century has taken its toll on my patience."

Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second, he wondered if he saw hurt in her dark gaze. Whatever it was, it was gone a moment later, leaving her expression smooth and impenetrable.

"Your sister still has a dagger in her," she stated coolly.

Anger rose within Elijah, which he suppressed. "That is disappointing, but unsurprising. When last I saw my brother, I was told he'd take it out after the war. How do you know he didn't? More importantly, why do you care?"

"I told you already: leverage. And a lady never reveals her sources."

He adjusted his cufflinks. "If you're trying to drive a wedge between myself and Niklaus, you are half a century behind."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," she murmured, batting his hands away and fixing the cufflinks herself. "But don't you have spies keeping tabs?"

"I have no desire to spy on him anymore. I'm better off not knowing what he's been up to."

"So, he could have razed Europe to the ground for all you know," she stated. She finished adjusting his sleeves, but her touch lingered.

He smiled slightly and moved her hand into her lap. "I do read the newspaper, Katerina."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who will rein him in if not you? Certainly not his wife."

Elijah sighed. "I am not shocked she has left him again; it was only a matter of time."

"You misunderstand me – she hasn't left him. Caroline d'Ebanne has been desiccated," she said deliberately.

Elijah stood up so rapidly his knees banged into the pew in front of them. "Excuse me?"

She raised her brows at him. "You really are out of the loop, aren't you?"

Nearby worshippers tittered at the disturbance, but Elijah paid them no mind as he searched Katherine's face for the truth. After a few seconds, he glanced around, remembering himself.

"Desculpe-me, por favor," he apologized distractedly as he sat back down. He leaned towards the younger vampire.

"Your information is incorrect. Caroline d'Ebanne is the originator of her own strain of vampirism. She's more powerful than any of us – she's the first vampire-witch hybrid, for god's sake!" he hissed.

Katherine brought her face very close to his. "Klaus is the Original Hybrid, he's older than her, and he has a host of loyal witches at his disposal. Do you really think he couldn't find a way?"

He shook his head in denial. "For all his faults, he truly loves Caroline. He would not harm her."

"Rebekah is his favorite sibling - look at how he treats her," she pointed out. "You know better than anyone else how pathological he is. Maybe Caroline tried to leave him because he refused to un-dagger Rebekah, and he lost it. Forced her to stay by his side."

"That's absurd," he argued weakly.

"Is it?" she demanded.

"Mariko would never allow it. She, too, can overpower my brother."

"Ah, yes; Riko d'Ebanne, the Undying Witch. I know better than most how loyal she is to the almighty Hybrid Power Couple but she's not always around, is she?"

Elijah did not respond right away. It was true – like himself, Mariko could go decades at a time without making contact.

"What are you trying to manipulate me into doing, Katerina?" he eventually asked, hearing the weariness in his own voice.

Katherine placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "All I've ever wanted was freedom from Klaus – you know that, Elijah. I want you to take him down."

His gaze roved over at her elegant, bejeweled fingers and perfectly shaped nails. "And how would I do that? I don't even know where he is."

She smirked. "If you travel to a little town in Virginia called Mystic Falls, you will find someone of interest. Someone your brother would like very much to sacrifice," she finished, squeezing his forearm before letting go.

"Sacrifice?" repeated Elijah dully.

"Did you know my bloodline did not actually end with me? I had a daughter out of wedlock before I came to England. As a matter of fact, that's why I was banished to England. Brought shame to the family, etcetera, etcetera," she said with a mock pout. "My shadow self has finally emerged."

"I had heard your line survived," Elijah murmured. "The doppelgänger lives in our birthplace?"

"Her name is Elena Gilbert. It's only a matter of time before Klaus finds her. You know he'll come for her, just as he did with me. She's in high school," the Bulgarian added for effect.

Elijah watched as a girl no older than thirteen lit a candle and kneeled in prayer, still dressed in her school uniform. The smell of incense was pervasive. The church was lovely, but not extravagant or historical enough to attract tourists. Everyone there was a local. He had created a little bubble for himself in Rio, and the modest church was the most comforting location within that bubble. He taught at a university three nights a week, hunted on Fridays, and spent the rest of his time reading, writing, and keeping up a negligible correspondence with the supernatural community of Rio, who came to him for advice and guidance. His free time was spent right where he sat now.

Reality was beckoning. Once again, his siblings were demanding his attention. Beside him, he could feel Katherine's growing agitation.

"Don't you want your family back? Isn't it time we all stopped cowering in his shadow?" she demanded.

"Thank you for the information, Katerina. It has been most enlightening," he finally said in a dismissive tone.

"Elijah, what-" she protested.

He turned his head slightly to look at her. "You'll understand why I won't be keeping you privy to my plans; that is, if I even intend to do anything."

She hesitated before rising to her feet. "I suppose that's fair. Good-bye, Elijah. It was – I - this," she stammered, clearly annoyed with herself. "I wish we had more time," she said after a brief pause.

Ah, time. Her hushed confession had come wistfully, filled with unspoken regret and desire.

He stared up at her. "Time is an ironic thing for immortals to want more of, isn't it? And yet, I can't help agreeing with you."

"But you wouldn't want more time with me," she argued.

The longer Elijah did not refute her words, the greater the tension between them grew. With one last small smile, Katherine turned away from him. She took her time walking out, her Jimmy Choos clicking against the stones loudly. In his peripheral vision, Elijah watched as she paused at the back of the church to dip her tan fingers in the holy water font and cross herself before departing through the wooden doors. Whether she did it out of habit, in a dramatic gesture to prove a point, or out of true belief, he'd never know. He never would with her.

When the doors shut behind her, he bent over his knees and held his head in his hands. He didn't even have a cell phone to check in with any of his family – such were the lengths to which he had gone to live anonymously. He had none of their modern-day contact information, and no idea where to find them – if any of them besides Niklaus were still around. It was highly probable that Abambe, Gita, and Emmeline would be able to help him; although they were all usually on good terms with Niklaus, their loyalties would always lie with Caroline first. But the school was on the other side of the planet and wasn't exactly in the yellow pages. No, he would have to check in with his witch and vampire sources in Brazil before gradually making his way up to Virginia, keeping a low profile, and waiting. He hadn't been lying when he said he no longer had any patience for Katerina, but he could not deny the legitimacy of her motives. And as unwelcome as her information was, he believed her. He knew firsthand the extent of his brother's moral decrepitude. He had lived in the shadows for too long; it was time to rejoin the living and fight for his family. Niklaus needed to be taken down.

As soon as she was clear of the church, Katerina slid inside the darkened interior of the car waiting for her. The driver immediately lost them in the manic rush hour traffic of the city. The full moon hung low in the purple twilit sky. She took out her phone and tapped on a contact. It rang once.

"Did you get an item, girl?" Mikael demanded in lieu of a traditional greeting.

She wiggled Elijah's wristwatch down her forearm and weaved the metal links through her fingers. "Rolex Deepsea. Shame, too. He's going to miss it."

"He can afford a new one. Did he believe you?"

The vampire's eyes flickered back through the rear window at the church shrinking in the distance, and she almost felt regret. Almost.

"Every word."

A/N: I told you I had this one done. I'm going to do some rewrites and editing on earlier chapters before posting the final chapter and hitting complete. But, I'll have it up by the end of the month.

This is the last flashback chapter, crafted to flow directly into Chapter One: The Reunion. I hope it ties up the plot neatly, and explains where the characters were physically, mentally, and emotionally in the beginning of the story. I'm glad I ended with Elijah and Katerina, two of the best characters in TVD universe. There was little room for Katherine in my modern-day chapters, but I had tons of fun with her in the flashbacks. Though I struggled with my decision to kill off Elijah, I had made the stakes too high for everyone to come out scot-free. It wasn't always going to be him; throughout the writing process, I considered killing off Rebekah and Pacari, Mariko, and Stefan. Elijah's death had the most impact on the characters and narrative.

To all my reviewers, followers, and everyone who favorited and read this story, thank you so much for your support. One chapter left - I can't believe I'm almost at the finish line! ~L