Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured. A/N: Thanks for the reviews & favs. Shout out to Dazzle2002 thank you for the chats via DM. So good to see the solidarity for BLM/Pride across so many countries. The world is waking up, and we need your voices and signatures. I contemplated for ages over how to structure this one, I hope you enjoy it, please R&R.
YOUNGBLOOD
vi
When thinking about life
remember this:
no amount of guilt
can change the past
and no amount of anxiety
can change the future
- unknown
Hope woke to mosquitoes stinging her face whilst resting on netted reeds on the edge of the bayou. Where was she? When was she? She looked up at an abandoned cottage: the flyscreen hung from its hinges, windows were boarded with planks, and broken beer bottles were scattered in the wild grass. Mary's purple flowers were long gone.
She stood, her limbs heavy and mind reeling from Josie's sacrifice, tears glistened against her cold cheeks. How long had the cottage stood, falling to ruins? How long before squatters took residence, and kids made it their hide-out? Did anything remain of its history? Hope strode forwards, past the gravestones covered in moss, their plaques the only imprint of the past.
Was Mary's name among the dead?
"Lizzie? Kol?"
Josie was not gone, she was not swallowed by darkness, she was not The Hollow's host.
Hope did not want to live in a world without her best friend, so she would not accept Josie's sacrifice as her fate – she vowed she would find Josie again, and when she found Lizzie and Kol, and determined when they were in time, they would find Freya, and return to save Josie, before she sacrificed herself, that was, if time still existed like it once had...
Who knew what awaited them in the current time now Josie and The Hollow had merged?
"I'm here, where are you?"
Hope glanced at Andrea's grave, then pushed open the fly screen, tripped over the mat and sprawled against the floorboards with the dusty photographs and broken frames. She winced in pain, pulling the glass from her palm, her wound healed quickly, as she lifted Mary's wedding photo, lost in memories. She stared up at the peeling wallpaper, broken appliances no longer with working electricity, and recalled the gumbo on the stove.
"What did the Hollow do to you all? I am so sorry, Mary. I would have stayed if I could."
Hope heard the wolves padding into the clearing. She stood tall, fearless, as she heard Hayley's voice in her ear, 'be yourself: a Labonair, your Crescent mark is your birthright.' Hope held her shoulders back, in what she pictured was a royal stance, her hands by her side, ready to use her magic if provoked: she was still a Tribrid, the only one of her kind.
'Nobody would dare challenge a Tribrid, they'd have to be mad,' Klaus smirked, as they tested Hope's witchcraft at age seven - she smashed beer bottles with stones, showing her eye was as good as her growl. Her parent's love and encouragement for her uniqueness was what Hope latched onto during times she missed them most. They had protected her from crazed witches, her own grandmother, witch cults, The Guerra's, and The Hollow, and during all that, all Hope ever wanted was some down time with her family.
She looked to the Heavens; a lone wolf, separated from her pack.
The wolves encircled her, their shackles raised, unsure of her intentions, led by one black wolf whose features she recognised. She had found him in the woods, the day Malivore ejected her from the pit, her heart broken after seeing Josie and Landon's declaration of love. She had set him free and remembered what she had said to him as clear as day, 'Landon needs you; I need you!"
Now, here they were, separated again by time, with one thing in common – the ability to turn at will. Rafael pulled clothes from a tree branch, a curious look in his eyes, as he pulled on jeans, and Hope averted her eyes, trying not to look down, or up, or anywhere in the vicinity of his muscular body. Instead she watched the others, realizing they too were turning, people of all ages and ethnicity.
"Hope? What are you doing here?" he grinned, at least he hadn't forgotten her this time.
Hope sighed, "I'm lost," she lied, it was partially true.
Rafael pulled on a navy t-shirt and opened an esky on the porch which Hope had not noticed, handing beers to the rest of his pack, "This is Hope Mikaelson, she saved my life countless times. You're welcome to stay. We're pretty laid back, some of us are Crescents, some of us are Malraux, some of us don't know who we are, but we're ok with that," he shrugged. "We're all nomads, one way or another," he smiled.
Hope nodded, watching the pack run errands, some pulling camper chairs from beneath the house, others putting together a bonfire with sticks and leaf litter, some giving her curious stares as she took a seat and brought the beer to her lips, wondering where Lizzie, and Kol were. Rafael's confidence shone through, and he seemed happy, almost. He clinked his glass against hers, and took a sip, "Nice to have you home again," he added.
Hope smiled, and Rafael left his beer with her, to pat 'Eli' on the back, and enter Mary's cottage, only to return to his chair with a book, no… her journal. She took her tattered grimoire from him, as if it were likely to fall apart in her hands. She ran her hand over its dusty cover, breathing a sigh of relief.
"You found it?" she felt overwhelmed by his gesture. "Raf, thank you!" Hope hugged him, unable to put her thoughts into words, and heard Rafael's chuckle against her ear.
"You're welcome, now how about you tell us that big adventure you went on?"
Hope wasn't sure where to begin.
"To be honest, I'm not sure it's over yet," she relocated the time travel spell. "Josie sacrificed herself to save us. She merged with The Hollow and sent us here. I have to get back to May 1942."
Rafael didn't tell her she was nuts, although the expressions on the other wolves' faces seemed to contradict him, but instead he said, "If anyone can find a way, it's you Hope." She found his words a source of comfort. "If this year taught me anything, it's life isn't about choice, sometimes you don't have control over what happens, you just gotta move on."
"How did you move on?" Hope breathed; the flames danced in Rafael's eyes.
Rafael shrugged, "I don't think we ever forget our first loves."
Hope found his sentence resonate with her, her first love had been Roman, who had fed on her innocence, and used it against her – he and his family's legacy were to blame for Hayley's death. But maybe she was wrong, maybe he was only a lesson in who she should accept in her life, and who she shouldn't. He remained a painful reminder of her mother's untimely death.
Maybe Rafael was hinting at his brother, Landon, who knew her milkshake order off by heart, who was the boy she danced with under the stars, and whom Klaus only pretended to like, just to please her. Landon who was like a comet, colliding with her very existence. Star-crossed lovers, that couple who held hands in public, and kissed in assemblies when they thought nobody was looking, and who were weirdly in sync, without meaning to, supporting each other through anything…that first love.
Or maybe, he meant that love she hadn't experienced yet, the love of a friend, and the line you weren't sure to cross, because it was complicated. The love that scared you deep down, but knew would eventually come to light, one way or another, the love that could no longer be ignored.
"Raf, I-"
Hope sighed, unsure of her feelings, he seemed to heed her nerves, and pulled away.
"You want another beer?"
Hope nodded, and drained her first one, willing her heartbeat to slow down.
"Sure, and a three-course dinner," Rebekah smiled, kicking off bayou mud from her boots.
Hope leapt from her seat, her grimoire still in her hand, "Aunt Rebekah!"
"The last time I did this, was with your mum, and you were a tiny grape inside her tummy."
Hope blushed, as Rafael passed out more beers, melting into the crowd.
"How about it, Rafael? Your pack is welcome as Marcel needs patrons at Rousseau's."
Rebekah drained her beer and hooked her arm around Hope's shoulders.
"Did I just see you almost kiss Rafael?" she hissed in her niece's ear.
"No, you need your eyes tested."
"Okay, but if you wanted my opinion, which I know you value above all others, even if you think it's too complicated, because you're vulnerable, what with Josie stuck in 1942, and Lizzie trying to navigate through her SEER powers, and Kol in Mystic Falls, it's okay to pause, to breathe, and to decide what it is you need this exact moment, because I love you, and I won't judge you for it."
Hope sighed, as Rebekah raised her eyebrows, "It's okay to feel, whatever your feeling. So, before we go, just make sure you've said all you need to say, because life is too short to hesitate, trust me."
Hope returned to Rafael, who was probably trying to decipher her racing heartbeat, and kissed him, setting off the rest of the pack, with howls and cheers. Why had she been so unsure of her feelings, when it was Rafael who she knew already liked her for who she was, who respected her as a fellow werewolf, and who had befriended her when no other had. Maybe it was time for her to accept it herself - she deserved love, and waiting around for it, wasn't the best plan of action.
Kol found himself in front of the Salvatore Boarding School, where before he had even raised his fist to knock, the door opened in a creepy fashion. A girl gave him a curious look, she reminded Kol of Snow White, she seemed to be the leader of her soiree of starlings who had stopped twittering due to his sudden appearance.
He cleared his throat, "I was looking for, uh, Caroline?"
"She's not here," he swore she would have closed the door, if he hadn't have added,
"Alaric then?"
"He's with Mr Gilbert." She paused, confused, "Are you a teacher?"
Kol smirked as he crossed the threshold, "No, I'm not a teacher."
The girl stepped back; her smile crumbled. "So, if you're not a teacher, who are you?"
"Kol Mikaelson, I'm looking for my niece, Hope, you haven't seen her, have you?"
She shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. "A Mikaelson, don't we have the honour. You do realise you're in a school with untrained witches? You better behave yourself, vampire."
Kol narrowed his eyes, he was reminded of another witch, one who probably still hated him.
"Aren't you a ball of sunshine, and I'd like to see you try. You may be a witch, but I can still compel you to leave me alone." His attempt failed; no doubt Caroline had thought of this.
"And you forget who our headmaster is. Anti-compulsion spells. Now, as fun as this has all been-"
Kol sighed, looking at the fireplace, nothing much had changed by way of décor.
"Fine but answer me this. Has anything strange, out of the ordinary occurred here?"
"This is a supernatural school; can you be more specific?" the girl quipped.
Kol shrugged, "The Hollow, she was a student here, went by the name of Josie Saltzman?"
The girl shrugged, "Never heard of her, and I haven't seen Hope, I presumed she'd wolfed out somewhere, she does that. You're welcome to wait; I'll tell Headmistress Bennett you're here."
Kol followed the girl up to Hope's room, with a wariness in his step.
Bonnie Bennett was Headmistress to a bunch of delinquent girls, that's all he needed.
He frowned, "I don't suppose you have any blood bags? I'm famished."
The girl barely turned around, "I'll have Alyssa bring you some from the kitchen."
Kol sat in Hope's room, he flicked through her textbooks, bored. He sucked on a blood bag the Alyssa girl had thrown at him, before prancing off to meet her boyfriend, Jug, or something, Kol didn't care. He cared about where Hope was, and whether she would be okay after Josie sacrificed her soul for the Hollow. He worried about Lizzie whose premonitions were telling, of the emerging apocalypse, and he worried that his actions had changed things between him and Davina.
He looked at the photographs on Hope's desk, with Landon, milkshake boy from Rousseau's. He remembered when they had started dating, and the video calls he'd shared so he could tease Hope. He moved his gaze to her uniform, her jumper tossed on her bed, the red S emblem on her jacket, a reminder of Caroline's dream to open a school under her Salvatore name, and how Klaus' donations funded her success.
His brother had really been smitten with Caroline Forbes, he thought.
She looks like a tasty little thing
Say another word and I'll tear out your liver
Kol looked at the twins in another photograph, it looked like Hope had found a surrogate family, one to fill the void of missing her parents, and he had to ruin it, by giving her that spell. He noticed how happy the trio of witches were – their own coven. He heard the door creak and swung around to see Bonnie Bennett's terse expression – a formidable ball of fire rotating in her palm.
"I can explain," he stuttered.
Bonnie threw the fireball at him. He ducked, the flames devoured Hope's cork board as Bonnie's patience dwindled. Kol hurried on with his explanation, "It was a time travel spell, to help Hope see her parents, but we ended off course, and Josie's stuck in 1942, with the Hollow, and whilst I don't know exactly where Lizzie or Hope is, I just wanted to check, they weren't here-" Kol peered beneath his shielded arms, to see his wife, Davina.
He sighed in relief at seeing her friendly face.
"You better pray, we can fix this," she said.
Kol stood and the flames receded, the ball of fire doused itself in Bonnie's fist.
"You didn't have to scare me like that," Kol said, as Davina crossed the room, and kissed him.
"And you didn't have to steal my grimoire, what was wrong with the rose idea?"
"I just wanted to make her dreams come true, besides, roses have thorns."
"You, Kol Mikaelson, are a thorn in my side," Bonnie snapped.
"Always a pleasure, darling. Let me guess, you married my old friend, Jeremy Gilbert?"
Bonnie narrowed her eyes, raising her hand again.
Kol ducked out of habit, and Bonnie smirked.
They were sitting in Stefan's memorial library with various artefacts Kol recognised, most had come from his crypt in New Orleans. The rosary of beads he had seen in Bastiana's possession, the handcuffs, which rendered the wearer non-magical, and a bone which looked remarkably like the one he had hidden that day in 1942. He turned to Davina, pointing at it, speechless.
"I brought it back with me, just in case."
"You brought it here?"
"Yes, so Bonnie could study it, and where Caroline could protect it."
"And? Did you find a way to destroy it?" Kol demanded of Bonnie.
Davina's warning glance and tightened squeeze to his arm, made him add with reluctance.
"Please Bonnie, can you tell me what you discovered?"
Bonnie pointed to piles of books on the table beside her, all stamped with Whitmore University.
"I followed in my Grams' footsteps, she taught Occult at Whitmore. So, I studied every book I could find on Native American mythologies, and discovered the only way to destroy the bones, is for The Hollow to reclaim them – but alas…"
"The Hollow is dead," Davina sighed, in defeat.
Kol raised his finger in the air, "Well, actually…"
A storm cloud crept across Davina's face, "What did you do?"
"It wasn't me; it was the damn accolades?!" Kol sighed, as Davina's fingers wrapped themselves around his skull, pulling up memories of the past, and sifting through The Hollow's resurrection.
"You let them resurrect her? Kol!"
"What was I meant to do? Let them kill Hope again? We were lucky Josie stopped her. Hope has this complex, I don't know, maybe you know it, it's called Mikaelsons dying for each other."
Bonnie pulled books at random with the wave of her hand, without leaving her seat.
"Why is it we remember The Hollow, but not Josie? Because she is her host, and The Hollow lives in her mind and spirit. She exists in literature, so we know Josie wasn't erased entirely..."
Kol listened to her thoughts and added, "If all four of us had returned together, the timeline would have reset, but three of us returned, so there is only ¼ change to the timeline. I thought it had to be Bonnie's presence, but that girl who answered the door, she's supposed to be in Belgium. Hope told me, Penelope broke up with Josie, and moved to Belgium last term – so what's she doing here?"
Davina turned to Bonnie, her thoughts connecting with his. "If the Hollow required Labonair blood to be destroyed, then without Hope, Hayley, or her parents, Josie cannot be saved," Davina mused.
Bonnie agreed, "Grams' diary states there were more sacrifices in New Orleans, Jackson, Mystic Falls, and Atlanta in 1953, so The Hollow terrorized these cities for eleven years, until something happened, something that reset the present to an almost replica of what you knew, which is why only you, and Hope and Lizzie, will remember Josie, and the real timeline."
Kol flicked through his memories, the present events finally making sense.
"In my timeline, we managed to save Hope from the Hollow because Vincent split her into each of us. When Klaus and Elijah died, the only others who knew the siphoning spell were Lizzie and Josie. So, if we were to find The Hollow from 1953, we could get Hope and Lizzie to siphon her magic and put it into an empty vessel – maybe Aurora, she's mad, and buried beneath a ton of bricks."
Davina sighed, shaking her head. "Aurora deserves to stay hidden after what she did to Cami; I'm not setting her loose, or her brother, Tristan. We need to find someone else."
Bonnie's eyes lit up, unnerving Kol with her idea.
"There is someone else who would be more than happy to take her power," Bonnie thought.
"Who?" Kol frowned, as Davina picked up the book Bonnie had across her lap.
"Someone who thinks he has us wrapped around his dead finger, The Necromancer."
Lizzie walked through a deserted Bourbon Street, where there was no jazz, no Josie and no Marcel. The green shutters were fixed behind black balustrades. The street signs rattled in a wind that ravished her hair, as she yelled Hope's name. Her visions of LaMarche and Grioux's deaths never left her mind, their screams like a crescendo in her ears – layered with Josie's final moments.
A tidal wave of grief rose in Lizzie's fragile chest. She released her emotions, not caring who heard, she was truly alone. She felt her energy drain from her body, rain fell heavy against her numb body.
She collapsed in the gutter, "Why Josie, and not me?"
There was a scurry of feet, and soft voices dragged her limp body into the courtyard.
"She's gone. They're all dead!" Lizzie turned to MG, clutching his shirt, haunted by her visions.
MG turned to Keelin, and Landon, scared by the intensity in her eyes.
Rebekah hurried over with a cup of tea, which Freya encouraged, heating it with her hand.
"Here, Lizzie, have some tea, it will soothe your mind," Freya murmured. "Take your time."
Lizzie sipped her peppermint tea, sniffing back tears, half the witch she used to be. MG hovered by her side, whilst Landon stared, and Freya, Rebekah, and Keelin huddled by a table filled with books. Lizzie eyed the compound, covered in ivy and fairy lights. There was a void in her chest, her link to Josie, severed, she had no idea how her sister felt, or whether she cared at all.
How was she to move on without her twin? And where were Hope and Kol?
"Lizzie, you've been gone for days…" MG's worried eyes bore into her diminished soul.
Lizzie put down her teacup, the words on the tip of her tongue. She thought it would be easy once she began, but the trauma of losing Josie had only just begun. It took several efforts, Freya's calm influence, and another cup of peppermint tea, before Lizzie was able to explain in full.
"We found ourselves in 1942, Hope's Christmas gift gone wrong, but we made the most of it, or at least, I did. I tried to find Sebastian, leaving Hope and Josie with a werewolf rebellion, and Kol kidnapped by Marcel, who was King of New Orleans. LaRue found me, and I became part of the uprising against Marcel, with the Nine Covens – they needed my magic. Marcel used his power to keep the witches and wolves in their place - his word was final."
Lizzie took a sip of tea, "We met Brynne Deveraux, Kol knew her by another name-"
"-Celeste Dubois," Rebekah's eyes darkened without explanation.
Lizzie nodded, "She helped Marcel, by reporting those who challenged him. LaMarche and Grioux became The Hollow's followers, they sacrificed themselves to resurrect The Hollow – almost killing us too. Marcel broke the boundary spell by killing LaMarche and became our ally."
MG and Landon gaped at her, soaking in each detail.
Rebekah sighed, after hearing no harm came to Marcel – but Lizzie had not finished.
"It was my blood that helped resurrect The Hollow. I thought I would be next. Hope tried to be the martyr, she would have died for us, if it weren't for Josie. Josie absorbed Hope's power and confronted The Hollow, who took Klaus' form. I think she made a deal, to send us back." Lizzie could not go on, a lump of emotion formed in her throat, hot tears welled in her glassy eyes.
Freya exchanged an alarmed look with Rebekah.
"What's a Hollow?" Landon asked, trying to keep up.
MG looked equally confused.
Lizzie pictured the neon blue glow in LaMarche, Dominic and now Josie's eyes, scared for her sister.
"Your worst nightmare," Keelin opened an old book and put it on the table for Landon to read.
Inadu, later known as The Hollow for her sadistic nature, was the daughter of two Native Americans, both of royal bloodlines. To ensure the baby had good health, several witches blessed the unborn child, but as the child grew, her true nature was unleashed, and Inadu fed on fear, chaos and apathy, destroying her own people, in a thirst her parents knew not. As she watched the world burn, a witch elder cursed an axe and gave it to Inadu's mother. Before she was slain, Inadu cursed all those involved, and thus became the werewolf line. It is rumoured four families, took four of Inadu's indestructible bones, hiding them from her zealots, for if they were found, The Hollow would return, and wreak havoc on anyone she pleases.
"Who were the four families?" Rebekah asked, pointing to that line in the book.
Lizzie shrugged, "I don't know, but I think Hope and Kol did." Tears dripped from her eyes like a broken faucet. "I don't know where they are, though?" she shivered, eying Landon's jacket.
Freya took Lizzie's arm, dropping her necklace from her shirt, it swung like a pendulum.
"If they are here, then they should show on the map – Kol."
The necklace stopped on Mystic Falls, which Keelin circled with a red marker.
Freya tried again, "Hope," this time her necklace pointed to The Bayou.
"She's here, but her presence is faint… Rebekah, find Rafael, he can pick up her scent."
"I'm coming with you," Landon threw on his jacket.
Freya blocked him, "I need you to stay here, and before you say what I know in my heart is true, listen to me, if we are to take on The Hollow, a Phoenix might be exactly what we need."
"There's a footnote," MG pulled the journal towards him, gaining their attention.
"That's not a footnote, that's an ink blotch," Landon said.
Lizzie looked at the page, and stared at the symbol, "No, it's a letter, M, for Marcel or Mikaelson."
She pushed her grief aside, and ran to Rebekah's room, hoping the photograph was still there. The message Hope had left, intending it to travel through time, to communicate to her family –
"Where are you going?" Landon asked, catching Freya's curious gaze.
"Hope left you a message from 1942, I just remembered!"
"What is it?" MG and Landon hurried after her.
"A photograph!" Lizzie rummaged through the drawer, not remembering this much junk in 1942. She pulled out scissors, a ball of wool, a hanky, sticky notes, fold back clips, an old phone, cords, notepads, and the photograph with faded edges - her visions written on the back.
She handed it to MG. "Maybe something on here can help find Josie," she smiled.
MG read out her notes with some confusion, Landon looked over his shoulder.
"Deveraux, the Deveraux sisters owned Rousseau's. The bar we've been helping Marcel with."
"La Fleur, isn't there an Occult shop with that name near Jackson Square?" Landon queried.
"Father Dominic, there's a plaque in St Anne's about him," MG remembered.
"Grioux was my friend," Lizzie shrugged. "I need to speak with LaRue, is she alive?"
Freya entered Rebekah's room, taking the photograph from MG's outstretched hand.
"I'll take you to the Regent, Lizzie. Keelin needs to pick up Nik anyway."
"Nik?" Lizzie queried, following them downstairs.
"Our son, Hope's cousin. Nik, named after my famous brother," Freya winked. "Funnily enough, the similarities are uncanny, since he's also a hybrid: part witch, part werewolf," her eyes twinkled.
"And he shares Klaus' temper," Keelin added, kissing her wife's temple.
Lizzie missed having Josie beside her.
Lizzie crossed through Lafayette Cemetery with a heavy heart, passing by the consecrated graves, once famous for housing ancestral magic which New Orleans witches used as their source of power. Now, they were like all others, dependant on earth's elements: air, water, fire, she heard the soft grumble of thunder above, and missed Josie's irritating forecast of babble.
The silence was unnerving, and she counted the mausoleums until she found LaRue, discovering her death had ended in sacrifice, willingly given to Hope's Great aunt, Dahlia. The others, so Vincent had heard through the covens, died more recently. The Harvest ritual cost Bastiana her life when Marcel saved Davina. Agnes attempted to kill Hope's mother, during a botched pregnancy scan, and died at Elijah's wrath. LaFleur, Celeste's host, had drowned in the Mississippi like Deveraux, leaving Sheila Bennett, until she took the brunt of Bonnie's spell, leaving Bonnie her sole legacy.
Lizzie was relieved to find there was no plaque for Josie, after wandering up and down the crypts and mausoleums for more than an hour. She had not noticed MG and Landon waiting beneath the gates of Lafayette Cemetery. It was Landon, whose voice interrupted her thoughts.
"I'm sorry about your sister. I wish I remembered her."
"You dated her all summer."
"I did?"
"Yeah, I suppose you both gravitated to each other, because you had Hope in common."
"What was Josie like?"
"She was bubbly, intelligent, caring, the opposite of me."
MG noticed the bite in Lizzie's answer and watched her sit on the cracked stone of an old grave.
After a beat, she asked, "Did Sebastian ask about me?"
MG wrung his hands in his lap, as he sat beside her. "He didn't say much."
Landon shot MG a pressing look, "In fact, he sort-of left. We haven't seen him either."
Lizzie stood up, "He left me? I spent decades thinking about him, trying to find him, and he didn't even wait to hear where I've been this whole time? He left? I can't believe I had sex with him. I can't believe I'm sitting in a cemetery, heartbroken, with you two, because my ass of a boyfriend, decided to fuck-off to Timbuctoo, whilst my life literally falls apart…"
Landon gave MG an alarmed look, which Lizzie missed because she had accidently set fire to the weeds below her feet in her anger at her lame ass vampire boyfriend. A quick-thinking Landon picked up a bucket of rainwater, and dumped it on the burning weeds, wiping the sweat from his brow. Lizzie barely flinched, her thoughts elsewhere.
"Tell me about those dreams you had," MG asked, a definite tact to distract her.
"I haven't seen anything since Josie…" she couldn't say it, she couldn't think of her sister, dead.
"What about the ones from that photograph, can you tell us about them?" Landon pressed.
"Oh yeah, I'll just relive the most traumatic experience of my life, shall I, for you?"
Landon kicked a stone across the ground, backing off.
MG rested his hand on hers, his touch made her anger dissipate.
"I know talking about Josie is difficult, but we're here for you, and we always will be."
Lizzie let his words sink in, "I don't have control of it, they come to me when I'm in a relaxed state, like memories, flashes, that show something is about to happen, has happened, or will happen."
MG's eyes lit up, like when he explained his love for the Green Lantern, and Captain America.
"So, think of your dreams as if they're superpowers. You're a SEER, your magic is connected to the earth. You feel emotions from innate objects, and from people you care about. You should talk to Hope's aunt, Davina. She's lived through similar experiences…used to draw her visions on paper."
Landon cleared his throat, "Except she's in Mystic Falls, Bonnie called."
"You're not alone in this," MG reminded Lizzie, bumping her shoulder with a smile.
Lizzie failed to return it, without Josie or Hope, the world was a lonely place.
"Thanks MG," she whispered, glancing at Landon's muppet hairdo.
Hope followed Rebekah as she weaved through the tables in Rousseau's, aware of Rafael's hand in hers. There were a few embarrassing wolf whistles, which were drowned out by Stevie Nicks' music. Rebekah smirked, arms crossed against her chest, as Marcel began to sing the opening verse.
In the city of dreams
Lies the city's ghosts
There's a beginning
there's a middle and there's an end
in this city
we throw a
big party
so, hearts will start to mend
we forgive… at least we try
Hope and Rafael noticed Kaleb on the piano. To their right, playing shaker, was Vincent Griffith, with a young violinist, Hope didn't recognise. Upon seeing Rebekah though, the boy shouted, "Aunt Rebekah!" much to Hope's dismay. Her cousin, Nik, whom she had last seen as a boy sitting on Keelin's knee last Christmas, was now a tween.
Marcel jumped from the stage and swept Rebekah into a passionate embrace, which made Hope and Rafael move on to greet Vincent. Vincent gave Hope a pleasant nod, tuning his bio-son's violin strings. "You probably don't remember this, but that little boy you rescued in '42, was me, and I don't think I'll ever forget how brave you were, Hope Mikaelson, thank you."
"I'm glad you're here, Vincent," Hope whispered, leaning against Rafael.
"Where else would I be?" he asked, listening to Kaleb practice.
Hope shrugged, "I don't know," she admitted. "I wasn't sure, actually."
Vincent sighed, "The Hollow… you don't know what happened, do you?"
Hope felt her breath catch in her throat, she shook her head, scared of Josie's fate.
Marcel had broken away from Rebekah and ordered drinks for them all.
"The Hollow wanted her bones, and she didn't care who she sacrificed. I want you to know, it's not your fault, and you need to understand something... your friend, Josie…she's gone, it's as simple as that. There's no way to get her back once the Hollow has you. She anchored herself into Josie's mind, blood, and soul – she erased her from existence."
"No," Hope said, aghast. "She can't be, I'm going to get Josie back."
Vincent continued, "There was a war, worse than what they told you in the History books. The Hollow attacked our city, she resurrected Father Dominic to lead her army. She used Richard Dumas to militarize the wolves, Mary had no choice but to leave New Orleans. The witches, Lenore Bennett and Josephine LaRue were forced to watch her sacrifice covens, to feed her insatiable hunger."
At this point, Marcel chipped in, and Hope noticed scars which should have healed upon his torso.
"The vampires were reduced to the shadows, feeding on strays, for our daylight rings were rendered useless. If we were to beg for a better life, she would request a favour – her bones, for our lives. Of course, this was impossible, as nobody knew where the bones were, and nobody could enter Kol's crypt. I watched as my inner circle were decimated, until I, and only a few of my vampires, survived."
"Thierry and Diego?" Hope ventured sadly.
Marcel paused, "Diego was killed by Francesca Guerra when you were a baby. Thierry was killed by Elijah, and not a minute goes by that I forget. I'd turned Thierry at a war hospital in the 40s, he was a great musician. Guess you don't realise the importance of a friendship, until it's lost. I can't help but notice your friend, does he have a name?"
Hope flushed pink, turning into Rafael's shoulder in a failed escape to drag him elsewhere.
"Marcel Gerard, Hope's older brother, and you are?"
Rafael held out his hand, "Rafael Waithe," he smiled, "I'm camping in the Bayou, with some friends."
"Lucia Waithe? As in the Malraux pack," Marcel queried, squeezing Rafael's hand, tight.
Rafael stayed cool and collected, "Yes, my mother served in Afghanistan, she was killed on duty."
"Sorry to hear, if you hurt Hope, you will not make it out of this city alive, got me?"
Rafael winced as Marcel released his hand, and said, "I'm not going to hurt her."
Marcel patted him on the shoulder, "No you're not," and he returned to the stage.
Hope looked up into Rafael's somewhat dulled expression, "I'm sorry, he's a tad overprotective," she grimaced, "Ever since my parents died…" she croaked, letting the sentence die altogether, he got the gist of it, the pain was still fresh, and the thought still brought tears to her eyes.
Rafael curled a stray stand of hair behind Hope's ear. "Do I look scared to you?"
"No," Hope was lost in his fierce gaze, and his lips swept against hers. "What was that for?"
"Can't I kiss my girlfriend, after an intense interrogation with her brother?"
Hope smirked, "Girlfriend?"
Rafael blushed, taking a step back, "I just assumed…but if it's too quick, I understand if you don't want to call it that, we could stay friends, best friends, or casual partners, werewolf friends…"
Hope kissed him back, to save him from getting even more flustered.
"Boyfriend, I like it," she smiled.
Kaleb started to play Canon in D, which Hope only noticed because of the chorus of laughs which were coming from the werewolf table at the back. Rebekah looked like she was planning their nuptials, sending Hope scurrying into the kitchen to stir some Gumbo, and take a minute to herself. She liked Raf, and she liked the excitement of a new relationship.
She wanted to get to know him, and she hoped he could heal her broken heart.
May 1953
"The bones, where are they?" Inadu hissed, as she crossed the open field, patience dwindling.
Not far, Josie said. In fact, you are almost on top of them.
"I see nothing."
Pity, you need to open your eyes, for only those who believe in Triad Industries, can see their cause.
"Who are Triad Industries?"
They are an organization, who keep a close eye on the Supernatural, they clean up messes, large and small, and whom have collections of ancient artefacts, including your bones. The entrance is inside that bunker.
"You better be telling the truth."
Why would I lie, I am your most faithful servant, and I do not break my promises.
1942
"I do not have much time," Josie whispered, holding a lit candle, its plumes of smoke had sedated The Hollow as per La Fleur's instructions. "I am Josie, but that's not important."
"Ryan Clarke," The man was tall, his suit dark, with a purple tie. His English was formal, and there was an air of aristocracy in the way he held himself, as well as the way he shook her hand, and offered her a tour of Triad Industries, located in Fort Valley, Georgia. He had beady eyes that reminded her of a crow, but he was her only escape, and time was running out.
"What can I do for you?"
"I know about Malivore, and I need a favour."
Clarke fumbled with his lanyard key, but Josie knew his destiny, and she did not fall for his act.
"I know about the pit, about your father: the Gollum, about the monsters you erase, the cult you work for; how he humiliated you, and how you wanted revenge. I can give you the freedom you so desperately crave."
Clarke narrowed his eyes, "And what makes you think I'd accept?"
Josie smirked, "Because in time, you die, so, I will grant you one wish, and one wish only."
Clarke stared at the strange being, seeing and hearing two separate souls.
"Who was it, who killed me?" he demanded, incensed.
"The Necromancer," Josie revealed, the candle flickered in the stale air of the bunker.
"I want him dead."
Josie stared at the screens recording what could be mistaken as an oil spill, "I will grant your wish, but only after you hear mine. I am the monster, Inadu. I want you to open your doors to me on May 3rd, 1953, keep me in the pit until June 6, 1991, where you will release me, and let me feed."
Clarke knew of Inadu, how Josie did not ask, "There must be a soul in your place, whose will it be?"
"Richard Dumas, but not before 1991, and time will tell."
"Your blood is tainted with the tribrid's, Malivore will not let you stay forever."
Josie's memories of being shot by Triad Industries were like a distant dream. Hope's blood had healed her wound and given her life again. Josie had paid her debt to her, by saving Hope's life.
"Do I have your word?"
"Yes, Josie, I will open my doors, if you bring me the Necromancer."
Josie shook his hand, "Christmas Eve, 2029, midnight, do not turn your back on anyone."
Josie glanced at the sage candle, almost down to its last wick, and muttered a spell.
She opened her eyes, standing in Jackson Square out the front of LaFleur's shop window, and blew out the candle, letting the smoke haze engulf her. She crept back to the corners of her mind, deep in her conscious, where Inadu could not find her – as her ghostly blue eyes grew bright.
A/N: I tried to tell this chapter in each of its sections by going back in time, I hope that came across. Please review and let me know what your favourite part/character(s) were. Also, according to Reddit Legacies is set 2029, but was it Christmas '29 or '30… forgive me if this is wrong. Stay tuned for ch7, which may or may not be the last chapter, depending on my mood.
