A.N.: I am overwhelmed by the love! Thank you so much, to everyone who has left a review, you keep encouraging me to go on - I love Giulia too much to ever abandon her, but real life has a way of, you know, getting in the way. So, this might be the last of my rapid-fire updates you've had over the last week. Enjoy…sort of…
Resurgam
30
A Bad Moon
In the glass, her reflection showed her hair curled voluptuously over one shoulder, with very minimal makeup and a chic red lip, the faint shimmer of candlelight playing off the straps of her tiered, pale champagne-pink silk-satin maxi-dress, her expression heartbroken. Preserved beneath the glass, the teenaged version of herself beamed at her, leaning into her father's embrace, perfectly content - both blissfully unaware of the futures awaiting them. Her dad wore a dark suit, and had his arm around her shoulders as he smiled ironically at the photographer. He had her silver-grey eyes and cheekbones, and had given her his height.
It had snuck up on her, the photograph, hung up on the wall at the Founders' Hall in a corner, hidden behind one of the potted trees.
"Handsome," said a soft voice, and Giulia started, flustered, and glanced around to find Rebekah peering with blithe curiosity at the photograph. "Who's that?"
Giulia stared back at the photograph, her heart stuttering. "It's my…he's my father. I didn't know this hung here."
Rebekah gazed at her for a moment, her sapphire eyes inscrutable. She looked very pretty, something shimmering on her eyelids, her eyelashes long and sweeping, her lips plump and highlighted by a perfect application of matte liquid-lipstick Giulia could only describe as 'cranberry sienna' in hue, universally flattering. She had kept her hair softly curled, in a nod to the hairstyles she had adopted in the Twenties; her dress also made homage to the Prohibition - not just an homage, it was likely from the Prohibition, barely worn and stored ever since. Rebekah's blue eyes twinkled with mischief and something close enough to empathy, as she leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, "Did you want to steal it? Nobody is looking."
Giulia smiled softly. "I have - I have others, I just… It caught me by surprise." She sniffed, gazing sadly at the photograph. It had to have been taken at one of the last Founders' parties she and her dad had attended the summer before he was killed. She looked so young - reminding her just how much she had changed in the last ten years, that she now looked at Stefan and saw a teenager, and looked at Damon and saw a college graduate. Not the legendary figures from her family's secret, macabre history, larger than life and terrifying, exhilarating - until her family, her father, had become collateral damage in the perpetual war between brothers that had seen too many of Giulia's ancestors buried under mysterious circumstances.
Rebekah frowned softly, leaning closer, and she asked gently, "Giulia, are you alright?"
Giulia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's been…eleven years…to the day…since he was killed, and I - I thought I would be alright, tonight, coming here, to this wretched cocktail-party," she admitted. She hadn't remembered, so busy recently, that the Founders' party fell on the anniversary of her father's death - it was a Saturday-night and she had had another hectic week, all around settling into Zita's new preschool routine… It was the last year she had a gift from Elijah to look forward to opening, a salve for the wound inflicted every time that horrid anniversary approached. "Eleven years…and I still miss him… He was taken from me and…" Her eyes burned, but she caught the stricken expression on Rebekah's face, and she smiled weakly. "I'm sorry," she said, sniffing, and wiped her eyes, careful of her makeup. "What is eleven years, really?"
Rebekah had endured a thousand.
Rebekah gave her a thoughtful, sombre look, her eyes darkening, and sadness and regret seemed to emanate from her. She fiddled with the stem of her champagne flute, and sighed softly, shaking her head. She gazed at the photograph, at Giulia's father. Speaking with an experience and wisdom no-one would ever expect from her youthful elegantly-glamorous appearance, Rebekah sighed softly, and said, "Just because we cannot compare the lengths of our endured grief does not diminish either…" Giulia's loss was not made less because she hadn't endured it as long as Rebekah had endured the loss of her mother: Giulia appreciated that. "Without the people we love, everything feels as if we have endured an eternity…"
Giulia glanced at Rebekah; Elijah spoke a lot about his siblings' continued integration into modern life, but less about how they were adjusting to the horrific truth about their mother's murder. Finally, after a thousand years, they knew the truth about their half-brother. And Rebekah had always been the closest to Klaus, as much as anyone could be close to a narcissistic Machiavellian sociopath.
Rebekah's smile was tremulous, her eyes glinting, as she gazed at the photograph. "What I wouldn't give for a photograph of my mother - a portrait, even…" She gave Giulia a wincing smile, but it faded and she swilled the champagne around her flute carefully, still gazing at the photograph. "Sometimes…the pain is less. It never goes away, not really, but one day…you'll think of him, and it won't hurt quite so much."
"I don't mind that it hurts, sometimes… It means I had a happy childhood…a wonderful father," Giulia said softly. She scoffed gently, smiling at Rebekah. "Isn't the scariest thing? That I am the product of a happy childhood and a devoted father?"
"It wasn't perfect, though, was it?" Rebekah said, and Giulia sighed. No, her childhood hadn't been perfect. She had been haunted by the shadow of her mother's death - believing, until she had risen from the ashes after Klaus' sacrifice ritual, that she had been the cause of her mother's premature death in childbirth, leaving deep psychological scars that had left Giulia nearly catatonic when she discovered she was pregnant - and shaken to her core after enduring a complicated childbirth. Even though she hadn't killed her mother, as she had been raised to believe.
"No, not entirely," Giulia admitted. She gazed at her father, who had missed her mother every day since she had died. Their home had felt like Wuthering Heights, full of ghosts and memory. She sighed, glancing at Rebekah, and gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Rebekah… How are you settling in to school?"
"I'd worried I would stand out like a sore thumb," Rebekah said thoughtfully. "It turns out the standards of education are quite a bit lower than I would have hoped they might be a hundred years on since I was daggered. Truth be told, I don't attend on account of the education, but for the social aspect. One must learn to assimilate to survive."
"Are you here as Stefan's date?" Giulia asked. "He used to avoid these things like the plague."
"Oh, of course not, Stefan's out with Damon drinking the town dry, I expect," Rebekah said airily. "No, a boy named Atticus Fell invited me, and I thought I might as well. It's been an age since I was out in society… It is remarkable how some things remain the same..." She cast her gaze over the dance-floor, where people were swaying to the music as they talked. The noise-level was pleasant, people were content, enjoying another party after a long summer and the first few hectic weeks of autumn. It was another Founders' party: The hall was full of familiar faces Giulia had grown up with, including Mason, laughing at the bar with Meredith, who wore a very pretty cocktail-dress, a shawl draped over her elbows, enjoying a night where she wasn't on-call with a glass of wine.
Giulia smiled as she watched Enzo dancing with Zita in his arms; he had the gaze of almost every woman in the room, swooning over his devotion to the little girl in his arms. Rebekah smiled warmly, following Giulia's gaze. "She's marvellous," Rebekah said richly, her eyes lighting up.
"She is," Giulia agreed wholeheartedly, her eyes sliding past Enzo with Zita to a less familiar face, and Giulia frowned. Abby Bennett was schmoozing the crowd - Giulia had been keeping tabs on her throughout the night; from what Giulia had overheard, Abby was trying to reconnect with the old Founders crowd, people she had grown up with, old friends she had abandoned a quarter of a century ago when she cut ties with Mystic Falls, abandoning her daughter.
"You're concerned about this one," Rebekah observed, eyeing Giulia's shrewd expression. "Who is she?"
"She is my friend's estranged mother," Giulia said, not sure how much Stefan knew to tell her. She glanced at Rebekah. "I believe she's part of the Order."
"And you're content to let her sip cocktails and saunter around, ingratiating herself with old friends?" Rebekah asked, her eyes widening.
"All I have at the moment is a gut instinct she is back in town to stir up trouble," Giulia said. She glanced at Rebekah. "But I won't be the one to make the first move and put things in motion I may not be prepared to deal with." Her gaze flickered back to Enzo and Zita on the dancefloor. She had something exquisitely precious to lose: She wouldn't risk it.
"Oh, dear… Your friend Caroline is approaching. I don't think she has quite forgiven me for the debacle at the scrimmage," Rebekah said, with a grimace, and Giulia chuckled as Caroline wandered over. It was nights like tonight, Founders' parties, when Giulia was suddenly shocked by the reminder that Caroline was not aging, as she was. It had been startling to see Stefan and Damon, looking as young as they seemed. It was very different, seeing Caroline every day. Only in photographs did Giulia notice - mentally, Caroline was maturing just as much as she was: physically, she was still the glorious seventeen-year-old who had dominated Mystic Falls High School, and particularly the Timberwolves' cheerleading squad. "I'd better go and find my date before there is a Mean Girl altercation on the dance-floor."
"Advisable," Giulia said softly, and Rebekah slipped away as she added, "Enjoy the party."
"Why is Abby Bennett here?" Caroline asked. "And why were you talking to her?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Giulia asked, glancing over at Rebekah, who was smiling and flirting half-heartedly with Atticus Fell, a ballsy high-school sophomore. "And I imagine Abby is here to try and engineer an invitation to the Founders' Council. Nights like this is when they used to host their illicit meetings, after all."
"I don't like that she's here, I get a weird vibe off her," Caroline said, frowning across the room. "And Damon doesn't like her, either."
"Since when do you listen to anything Damon's gut is telling him?" Giulia asked curiously.
"Oh, I don't, but when two Originals I might actually respect, Liam and Gyda, both have stories to tell about Bad Bitch Abby Bennett, I listen," Caroline huffed irritably. Her face brightened when she asked, "Did you see Elena and Matt are here?"
"I did see that," Giulia said, sipping her drink. She had noticed that Elena seemed to be making the effort. She was smiling, and had dressed up; she appeared to be happy, engaged with her husband, their friends… Maybe Isobel was exactly the sucker-punch she hadn't seen coming to shock Elena so badly Matt had been able to coax her into accepting help - Giulia had been updated a few times by Isobel via text, any time Elena agreed to meet with Isobel, and from what Isobel said, she thought she was having a breakthrough with Elena. But Giulia wondered… Caroline didn't trust Abby Bennett's appearance: Giulia…didn't quite trust that Elena was making the progress Isobel seemed to hope she was.
There was no miraculous cure for depression. No…switch to turn back on all the emotions that made Elena who she was. Giulia knew that; hadn't she experimented with different coping mechanisms to help her through her grief, and fought tooth and nail after too many failures, to rebuild her emotional health after her dad's murder sparked the worst year in her life - the worst year, but the best time: She had met Elijah.
But Elena seemed like she was trying. And Giulia decided not to worry about it, not to ask who was looking after Grayson tonight, or what miracle drug Elena had found, or what kind of game she was playing with Isobel.
She decided it was okay to watch Enzo dance with her daughter, their darling, and not focus on eviscerating Abby Bennett for having the nerve to come back to town, when all she wanted to do was tear the truth about Joshua Salvatore's fate from Abby's very skin.
Because Giulia was allowed a moment to be miserable, and to mourn that her dad was dead. Her only parent. Her only family, until she had become Enzo's. Until Zita was born, and Giulia's entire life had changed. Giulia watched them dancing, and knew how lucky she was to have them in her life - to have them be the best parts of her life.
It didn't mean that tonight, she wasn't allowed to be devastated that her dad wasn't here to see it - to see Zita, to know her, to be proud of Giulia, as an exceptional mother, as a woman with PhDs and a successful business, devoted to her friends, doing her utmost wherever she went to improve things for the people she loved, even protecting the ones she didn't like, because that was who had had raised her to be.
Sometimes she was exhausted. And sometimes, she missed her dad, and really wished he was here.
Today was the one day of the year that she was allowed to be absolutely fucking devastated that he wasn't here. It was the day she was allowed to be angry that it was Stefan and Damon's fault. And…to be grateful…because if he had never died…she would never have had Zita.
Giulia would not give up Zita for the world.
She made Giulia's world revolve; made the sun rise and set; coaxed the stars to glitter; and the moon to glow.
Zita was everything: And not even Giulia's beloved father could compete with that.
Zita was the best of Giulia: And Giulia, the best of her father: And through them, her dad was immortal. One day, Zita would raise her own children the same way Giulia had raised her, through the model her dad had made, raising her.
He wasn't here, but he was everywhere; he was in every decision Giulia made for her daughter's happiness and health.
"I'm ready for this night to be over," Giulia admitted on a heavy sigh, gazing glumly over the crowd.
"Me too," Caroline said softly.
"Ready to reclaim the urchin?" Enzo asked, carrying Zita over; she looked tired, after another long week. Giulia usually wouldn't have brought Zita to a Founders' event, but it was a child-friendly function and Mason had promised to bring Spencer; even spencer's presence couldn't keep Zita's eyelids from drooping.
"I'm ready to stick a fork in this whole evening," Giulia admitted, exchanging her empty glass for Zita.
"Well, if you're headed home, I think I'll go and meet Damon downtown for a real drink," Enzo said, glancing at Giulia's empty glass and setting it on the tray of a passing waiter. Zita yawned widely against Giulia's chest, settling in for a sleep, growing heavier in her arms. "I won't wake you."
"Goodnight," Giulia told him, and Enzo slipped away. A sleeping child in her arms was the best excuse for an early getaway: She made the rounds, quickly, and met Caroline at coat-check.
"You got away, too?" she asked, and Caroline smiled.
"I claimed you're my ride," she said. They slipped out of the noise of the Hall, wandering around to the parking-lot at the side of the building, half-shrouded by the shadows of the woods behind the building, lit only with Christmas lights strung between young oak trees planted ten years ago to mark the 150th anniversary of the town's founding. The sliver moon did nothing to help illuminate the parking-lot, and Giulia had to take care not to trip with Zita in her arms. Caroline sighed. "I don't understand why you're not more anxious about Abby Bennett being here tonight."
"Not tonight," Giulia murmured. "Grab my keys out of my purse, would you?" She unclamped her clutch from under her elbow so Caroline could catch it, and free her keys; with a flash of the lights, Caroline unlocked Giulia's car.
There was a rustle of foliage, and Caroline's hair shimmered in the meagre moonlight as Giulia opened the back-passenger door. Another glittering blonde head appeared, and a crisp voice chided, "Go on, back inside. Tell your mother you put me in a taxi-cab home to my uncle, I had a sudden migraine. And - for good measure, you'll tell your friends at school that you never stood a chance with me, anyway. Go along!"
A dark slim figure half-ran back to the Hall, slipping up the illuminated steps and disappearing inside. A sigh of disgust, and the slender blonde crinkled her delicate nose, noticing the light as Giulia secured a sleeping Zita in her booster-seat. Rebekah sauntered over, the subtle embellishments of her dress glinting in the poor lighting.
"Hello, again, Rebekah," Giulia smiled, glancing back toward the entrance into the Hall. "Bad date?"
"Teenaged boys rarely do deviate from giving in to their base biological urges," Rebekah said, with a heavy sigh, "thought it would be nice, once in a while, for them to think with their brains, and not other body-parts."
"I thought you were dating Stefan," Caroline frowned.
"Oh, when we feel like it." Rebekah shrugged with superb indifference.
"Uh, that's just hooking up," Caroline sniffed, dislike not exactly veiled in her tone.
"What on earth does 'hooking up' mean?"
"The lingo may have changed since we were in high-school, but I'm pretty sure it still means 'penis goes into vagina'," Giulia said, and Caroline smirked.
"Oh. Well, then - yes, I suppose Stefan and I do hook up quite regularly. When we feel like it," Rebekah said lightly. "It is refreshing to maintain one's autonomy outside of having a little fun, though, isn't it? One needn't be bound to a man to enjoy life's pleasures… Well, most of the time."
Giulia grinned to herself, though she grimaced as she tried to get the seatbelts out from under Zita, fast-asleep and unhelpful. "Elijah's still not keen on teaching you to drive, is he?"
"He would have me ruining my best heels running around town, just because he's afraid I'll wreck the alignment on his Bentley, not that I know what that means," Rebekah said indignantly. "And Stefan is worse. If he spent half the time and attention on me as he did that wretched Porsche -"
"Ew," Caroline sniffed.
"Nothing wrong with a man who's good with his hands, Caroline," purred Rebekah.
"Or his tongue," Giulia remarked, glancing over her shoulder, and snickered as Rebekah blanched.
"To quote Caroline; Ew," she said, crinkling her nose. Rebekah took her phone out of her clutch-purse. "Do you know how to use this absurd gadget? Willem says it is a telephone, and I do adore having music constantly available to listen to any time I should like, and photographs, of course, but these Apps are mind-boggling. They say it's user-friendly."
"What are you trying to do?" Giulia asked.
"Oh, secure a taxi-cab. The others are at Niklaus' house tonight and I'd wager they're a few too many deep to risk Sheriff Forbes' disapproval at getting behind the wheel," Rebekah said, with a lingering look at Caroline. "There's an App, I'm told, where I can summon a taxi but I don't know which."
"You're welcome to catch a ride home with us," Giulia offered.
"She is?" Caroline blurted.
"I am?" Rebekah smiled jauntily, shooting Caroline a digging smirk.
The first scream came out of nowhere. A blur launched itself at Rebekah, her scream cut short as she crumpled to the ground, something enormous and furry growling, and blood sprayed in a wet arc. The huge wolf shook its head, Rebekah's trachea dangling from fangs the length of fingers and dripping with blood, the scent of venom on the air as it raked its lethal claws down her front, as if digging for bones in the yard not for Rebekah's heart through her ribcage. Utterly shocked, gaping, Giulia flinched as blood splattered against her skin, the wolf shaking its huge head - there was a wet squelch and a splat, and a low, steady growling as the wolf crouched low, ears flat, eyes glowing amber and onyx in the dark, muzzle dripping with blood as Rebekah stared unseeingly at the waxing quarter moon above.
The werewolf turned its glowing eyes on Giulia, the low, throbbing growl a constant threat. Giulia froze. Her mind went blank, except for one name. Her entire body could do nothing but react, as her heart swept adrenaline through her body like a tsunami, flooding her vital organs, triggering her shift - her fangs descending, her fingernails sharpening, strengthening to lethal claws, and her eyesight shifted, the darkness giving way to obscure colours never seen as the werewolf launched itself at her, utilising the few precious seconds it had to get the drop on her as her shift overwhelmed her.
The werewolf collided with her, knocking her down - winding her, landing with enough force to bruise her with its giant paws - and it hurt, it fucking hurt, and she screamed, when the werewolf bit, and savaged her neck, tearing at her skin, her shoulder, her ear, biting her cheek - she whimpered, and shook, and screamed again as the werewolf raked its front paws down her front, tearing through her skin like warm butter - she could do nothing, nothing but jab her claws into the werewolf's soft belly, raking up - just as she had done to Klaus when he had attacked her. The werewolf had already let go, whining and snorting, growling and shaking its head, its tongue lolling - a flash of shimmering blonde hair, trying to get between them, and Caroline screamed as the werewolf launched itself at her, belly hanging out, enraged enough, bewildered by pain, to attack blindly.
Caroline crumpled - Giulia felt the wet spray of her blood as the werewolf snarled and wrenched its head to the side, tearing out Caroline's throat.
Half-blind, the stench of copper drowning her, Giulia shivered, staring unseeingly at the stars blurring above her, her eyelashes fluttering as one single thought unfurled in her mind.
Zita.
She managed to roll over. Adrenaline spiking through her so violently her entire body shook, she vomited blood at the sight of the werewolf, stalking the open door, scenting its way. Breath, warmth abandoned her; Giulia went cold at the sight of Zita, fast-asleep in her booster-seat. She choked, and vomited blood again, shuddering, unable to tear her gaze away, to blink, for fear of what she might open her eyes to.
Even if Giulia screamed for her to wake, even if she did - Zita couldn't unbuckle her seatbelt to free herself, to climb out of the car and run away, and it was that thought that pushed Giulia to her knees, her vision spinning viciously, blood splashing onto the tarmac, her entire body on fire, especially her face, her chest, torn open - tears leaked down her face, but she crawled forward, the werewolf ignoring her as it stalked the car, scenting its way warily toward the baby asleep inside it.
She crawled far enough, had strength enough, to reach out with her one good arm, wrap her shaking hand around the werewolf's long, bushy tail, and give a vicious yank.
The werewolf yelped as it was jerked back three feet, three precious feet, away from the car, away from Zita - Giulia used what little strength she had to raise her arm in spite of her ruined shoulder, and raked her claws from the werewolf's shoulders to its hips, tearing muscles and tendons, spilling its blood - her fangs sharpening, Giulia growled thunderously at the werewolf. It tore itself away - and ran.
It disappeared, Giulia couldn't see where, her vision too blurry, spinning. She crawled to the car, gripping the open door to pull herself up, panting… Zita slept on, sucking her thumb, curls glossy in the car ceiling-light, and Giulia gasped, relief sweeping through her, listening to her daughter's gentle breathing, the steady, untroubled beat of her heart, and she whimpered as she quietly closed the door - and collapsed against it, tears splashing down her cheeks.
Her eyes burning, adrenaline shuddering through her body, Giulia opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the carnage in front of her. Caroline, Rebekah, glassy-eyed, their throats ripped out, Rebekah's torso torn to ribbons, their purses abandoned, phones shattered, the broken glass refracting moonlight. Her vision blurred, Giulia still glanced up, at the moon, glowing softly silver, a meagre crescent, tiny in an ocean of obsidian.
She whimpered, and shuddered as pain like fire swept through her veins: She didn't allow herself to look down, at her shredded torso, her savaged shoulder, her neck. She could feel it; she didn't need to see it.
She needed to get Zita away.
She needed to get Rebekah away; she needed to get Caroline away…
She needed to get Caroline the blood of a hybrid. She needed the blood of a hybrid.
There was nothing else for it: She loaded Rebekah and Caroline into the spacious trunk of the Audi. She painstakingly gathered their things, so there would be no evidence of their involvement when the sun rose and someone realised blood stained the parking-lot.
She climbed into the driver's seat, and knew better of it even as she turned the key in the ignition, blinking dizziness away, driving one-handed, blood pooling beneath her as it trickled from her shoulder and ruined torso and savaged neck. She reached up her one good arm to adjust the rear-view mirror, to keep Zita always in her sight, even in the dark, her heightened vision honed by the sustained shift that raged against the infection of the werewolf venom she could taste.
They were at the Klaushaus, Rebekah had said.
Giulia drove straight out of town, with no other thought but Zita, and keeping her safe.
The monstrosity that was Klaus' modern cliff-side mansion came into view, the white walls glowing in the illumination of hidden lighting: Expensive cars littered the driveway, and Giulia panted as she cut the engine, staggering out of the seat, stumbling a few steps, falling in front of the water-fountain gurgling merrily, her entire body soaked in her own blood, itchy, her dress stuck to her legs and backside, her hair plastered to her neck, and she leaned over and vomited meekly into the splashing pool, the adrenaline that had gotten them here fading, her fangs receding, her claws already dulled to delicate fingernails, her eyesight fading to literal darkness, her body weightless with exhaustion as her heartbeat stuttered.
She pushed herself up. Staggered back to the car. Gazed in horror at her reflection in the window…but opened the back-passenger door. Stared at her daughter, still sleeping so soundly.
Her heart thumped, and Giulia whimpered, crying. Zita.
She was fine. Her daughter was unhurt; she hadn't even been awake to witness the horror.
But what did Giulia do now?
She glanced over her shoulder, at the front-door, illuminated softly, giving no hint of the horror that awaited her. Take Zita in there, to witness God knew what, or leave her here, while she got herself sorted out?
Leave Zita in the car, to protect her from waking to find her mother unrecognisable from savage trauma, or leave the two vampires, to protect Zita from the debilitating dementia and mindless violence that accompanied a werewolf bite. Risk whatever was going on inside that house, to get what she needed, to heal and look after her baby.
Silently crying, that she even had to make such a decision, she left the vampires in the trunk. She tenderly freed Zita from her booster-seat, drawing on years of practice to get her from the car to her little bed without waking her, settled her on her hip with her good arm, and inhaled with every step to stop herself from keeling over as dizziness and exhaustion washed over her with the strength of a tsunami.
Courtesy fell by the wayside: She let herself in. The scent of copper increased, gagging, the hem of her dress trailed blood over pristine white quartz floors and her heels clicked softly as she staggered, and glanced around an immaculate, empty foyer… She heard soft chatter, strange, inane, choking screams, and laughter - followed it, through an archway, and an open-plan living area spread out before her, in a dozen shades of white, softly lit, a panorama of windows black behind a polished wooden rack, from which a barely-recognisable blonde man hung limply, shackled and pinned. The carpet beneath his feet was stained with old blood. As she stumbled into the room, Kol giggled, stabbing Klaus with a paintbrush through the tender underside of his upper-arm. Isak giggled at the pathetic mewling growl that issued from Klaus' lips, showing…his tongue was regenerating…
Willem, Finn and Elijah were having a heated debate with Lagertha and Gyda, none of which Giulia heard, as Zita sagged in her arms, and she wavered on the spot, panting, and bleeding profusely, her body burning.
"Giulia?" Willem gaped at her, and the others glanced around, even Kol glancing away as Isak stabbed a curling-iron into Klaus' right eye, making Klaus' strangled scream shiver around the room, the only sound as the Originals stared at her.
They were frozen - and suddenly, they weren't, realising something horrific had happened. They jumped into action. Finn reached her first, his face bloodless, lips white, his haunted eyes on Zita.
With a tiny squeak, and a tremble of her lower-lip, Giulia entrusted Zita to his care. Without waking her, showing the same gentleness and care Finn treated everything, he drew Zita into his arms, gently stroking her curls to settle her against his chest, his enormous hand guarding blocking her view of Klaus even if she woke.
Giulia raised a shaking hand, pointing toward the front-door she had left wide-open.
And she gazed at Willem, beseeching him. Understanding, he undid the top buttons of his shirt, and if she had been in any kind of state of mind to appreciate it, Giulia would have taken occasion to luxuriate in brick-shithouse Willem, sculpted by the gods themselves to put Thor to shame.
She fell into his waiting embrace, shoving aside his shirt, and sighed as she sank her fangs into his neck, drawing deeply, his rich life-blood decadent on her tongue, energising, healing. She was deaf and blind to anything else, her senses consumed by the blood, by Willem's heat - searing away the glacial cold that shuddered through her body, burning through the venom attacking her vital organs, causing such a devastating allergic reaction.
Willem grunted as she gave one last, luxurious, greedy pull, and licked her lips decadently as she released him. He had held her up, clasped in his arms, and he reached up to cup the back of her neck in one hot palm, his usually relaxed expression grim, intense, exquisitely dangerous, and though her body was swiftly healing, her skin sealed and knitting itself back together, blood replenished, her lip trembled, and her eyes burned.
Liam's blood had swept through her, burning away the venom, searing her veins, clearing her mind, strengthening her as nothing else ever could have. He was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Her hand trembled as she reached to readjust her shredded dress, revealing a little too much. The dress was ruined, her own blood dying it rich dark red, stuck to her limbs; she dripped on the pristine white carpet, plush and luxurious.
"You're alright?" he asked, growling with urgency as he lowered his head to maintain intense eye-contact with her; ever so briefly, his eyes flickered, that tell-tale glow utterly unique to a werewolf-turned-vampire - of which there were only two in existence - and it struck her… Willem was shuddering with rage, was bigger than Giulia had ever seen him, his enormous muscles bulking out, suddenly giant, his presence awing.
But he didn't transform. Didn't let go. Didn't lose himself to his nature, a mindless beast. No hint of his transformed state showed itself, except that tiny hint in his eyes. He stayed, and he solemnly watched Finn carry Zita out of sight, away from the horror of the torture-device Klaus was strapped to, temporarily forgotten, his skin painted with his own dried blood, thigh-bone poking through the skin, limbs decorated with rusty nails, dried vervain blossoms and paint-brushes.
She nodded hesitantly, still shocked. Her body was calming down; but her mind… Her eyes constantly flitted to the doorway Finn had disappeared through.
Elijah reappeared, Caroline draped in his arms. Behind him, Lagertha carried Rebekah, Gyda wincing sympathetically as she lifted Rebekah's hair to reveal her savaged neck.
Willem inhaled loudly: He scented Giulia's neck, and went to Elijah, to scent Caroline's top, Rebekah's hair. He sniffed, and sneezed, a low rumbling deep in the base of his enormous barrel chest.
"Willem?" Gyda asked gently, but Willem ignored her, biting his own wrist to shove against Caroline's parted lips - a trickle of blood would cure her symptoms before she was ever in danger of the debilitating, slow, agonising death by werewolf-venom. He gave Rebekah a lingering, apologetic look - his blood would do nothing for her, an Original, who could not die from werewolf-venom, no matter how inconvenient the healing-process was.
Elijah settled Caroline on a pristine white chaise-longue: Lagertha placed Rebekah on the tufted white velvet sofa with equal, surprising care. Their wounds were already healing, their throats regenerating. Willem stripped off his shirt, bundling it on a white leather Eames armchair, and started unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans.
"Um…is that quite necessary?" Kol asked, delicately pointing at Willem's waist, smirking at Giulia, whose eyes were glued to his delectable hip-bones. She drew her gaze away, her eyes flitting to Elijah's hips, his neatly-belted jeans, his strong torso; he shared the same broad, powerful build as Willem, hidden beneath his suits - less obvious, deceptive…it was what was underneath that mattered… And she knew she had enjoyed licking and kissing her way along Elijah's hipbones as she enjoyed few other things… The memories of him reacting to her lingering kisses distracted her, temporarily, as her heartbeat thundered to a more regular pace, her breathing gentling, and she slowly pieced her blocks back into place, protecting herself.
"If I see anything I haven't seen before, I'll throw a dollar at it," Giulia said drily, and Willem briefly smirked as he kicked off his jeans.
"It is the wrong moon," he said urgently to his half-siblings, pointing to the panorama of windows, the tiny sliver crescent moon glowing beyond Klaus' raised hands, his wrists bloodied, ensnared.
"So we've got a confused werewolf on our hands?" Kol quipped, shrugging unconcernedly. "Lovely. Likely, it's that nasty bitch who had a go at you the other night, Giulia."
"It wasn't Hayley," Giulia said quietly, suddenly feeling cold in spite of Willem's blood rushing through her body. Her dress stuck to her, her blood cooling against her skin, making her feel itchy and uncomfortable.
"How do you know?" Lagertha asked.
"It's the wrong moon," Giulia repeated, glancing at Elijah, who remembered: She had taken Hayley's ring. There would be only one night Hayley could transform on - the full-moon.
"Kol, a werewolf attacked on the wrong moon," Willem said, with a touch of uncharacteristic impatience. "You know who is capable of orchestrating that, turning nature on its head."
Kol sighed heavily, grumbling, "Witches." His expression petulant, he stabbed Klaus in the neck with a graphite sketching pencil. Willem disappeared, stripping out of his boxer-briefs as he went, but none of the Originals went after him.
This was a werewolf problem.
Willem was the oldest, strongest alpha in the world.
There was power in his age, his strength, his mastery of his own nature, a power foolish witches would never understand; but even Willem would concede, when it came to witches, even he was not immune to Nature's whims. If witches had harnessed Nature to force a werewolf to change on the wrong moon, they were powerful enough to take note of - and to hunt.
Willem was hunting.
He had the werewolf's scent.
"Come," Elijah said gently, and Giulia started, blinking dazedly, and glanced at him. He held out his hand to her. "Let's get you cleaned up." Giulia blinked, and it didn't occur to protest as Elijah guided her the same way Finn had disappeared with Zita: In fact, he led her to an all-white bedroom with a California King-sized bed, nestled in the centre of which was Zita, fast-asleep, draped with a blanket of pure white merino wool, bathed in the soft glow of one lamp that illuminated the room. Sighing in her sleep, Zita was sucking her thumb, her curls sticking out, and as Giulia approached, her tiny hands and feet curled and unfurled, relaxing, like a sea-urchin, reminding her so vividly of Zita as an infant that her eyes burned, emotion choking her, and she staggered away from the bed, toward the en-suite where Elijah had already headed to turn on the steam-shower, fragrant steam already billowing from the minimalist white shower.
"Will you stay with her?" she hiccoughed, and Elijah nodded solemnly, retreating from the bathroom; she heard a low murmur, and footsteps - Finn, returning to the living-room.
The water ran red with her blood as she stripped out of the ruined dress and under the jets. She had to rinse off her skin, and shampoo the blood soaking her hair. The towels were white, luxurious. She glanced around; Elijah had left a man's white t-shirt and jeans on the side for her to change into. They were his: She knew from the cut of the jeans, the softness of the t-shirt. She stared at herself in the mirror, examining the unblemished skin Willem's powerful blood had healed in seconds, before pulling the clothes on. Definitely Elijah's clothes. But she felt no rush of…anything…drained, too exhausted…
She left the bathroom, found Elijah sitting in another Eames armchair, frowning thoughtfully at Zita as he watched her sleep. She sank onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, staring at her daughter, sleeping so peacefully.
She didn't know how long she stared; and she didn't see Elijah rise from the armchair to take a seat beside her, resting his hand on her hip, the weight grounding, as she gasped and spiralled and the world spun, and all she could focus on was Zita.
And the danger she had been in.
For the very first time in Zita's life, Giulia's proximity to the supernatural had placed her daughter in danger.
That was unforgiveable.
It was also unavoidable, because Giulia herself was no longer human, despite all appearances.
And tonight…tonight of all nights, she had almost lost the one thing that mattered to her above everything in the world.
One bite, and that was it. No more Zita.
Elijah clasped her chin, and jerked her face to his. He kissed her, full on the lips.
And it was the kiss that startled her out of her catatonia.
Brought her out of her own head, to gasp, and clutch his wrists, and gaze into his dark eyes as hers swam with tears.
"She's safe."
He kissed her again, slowly, luxuriously.
A kiss that could enflame her so easily was also the kiss that could gentle her as nothing else could.
He stroked her jaw with his thumbs, gazing into her eyes, and repeated what he knew she desperately needed to hear, "She's safe." He stroked her cheeks for as long as it took her to calm down, to close her eyes and lick her lips, and pull herself back together.
She's safe.
A.N.: I know. Don't hate me! Please!
