MARCEL
"I suppose since you've proved your worth you'd like a bigger reward," Tristan says.
I'm quiet, listening as he walks around one of my venues. He likes the tall ceilings, the rugged look of cement missing in all the right places, the amount of space he has to do his dirty work and hide at the same time.
If I can't do what he asks me to do this time, it'll just be another object I lose to his advantages.
"This one might be a little messy, seeing as no one really foresees the outcome of it, but I need you to do it because I believe you can. I want Jezebel Zaragoza's vessel. Specifically, I want you to put her back on it," he enunciates.
Setting me up for failure, it seemed like. He wants me to put a grown woman—who not only did me a gigantic favor but has a habit of doublecrossing people—with magical powers I don't have back inside of a prison cell.
"Seems like a lot of steps, especially since the Mikaelsons are in talks with her. If it isn't murky enough, it's not gonna help anybody when talks turn into handshakes. Besides, I thought the point was to release her. You were gonna trap them on the vessel, instead, for protection," I say doubtfully.
He pats the Prohibition-era bar counter, its art deco grooves a little dusty but still sharper than knife.
"Well, plans can change," Tristan states. "The vessel is well-known and everyone knows what kind of cargo it holds. Putting the Mikaelsons on it? Just as deadly to us as it would be a Seraph. All it takes is a pair of strong hands to destroy it and we all fall down. Not to mention the scenario where, let's say, the Mikaelsons are wanted alive and for use. There is a hoard of unwelcomed guests coming, Marcellus. None of which come in peace. And surely, this town and the people in it will be obliterated if Jezebel is not ready for surrender. So, trap her and save your family: us. Those unwelcomed guests want to beat you to it. I'd hurry."
Thinking it a way of sending me off, I turn my back on him, ready to get this dicey chore out of the way.
"And if the Mikaelsons should display a distaste towards our custody of the girl..." Tristan begins. "Change their mind. One way or another."
KLAUS
I couldn't get her to say a word to any of my remarks or her plans to hurt Aurora. That's something I have not considered: am I going to sanction a battle to ensue when we find her?
Jezebel takes notice of how I examine the mystical injury on the side of her face.
"Don't worry about it," she finally says. "She's trying to get my attention."
There are lots of questions zipping about in my mind like a swarm of carpenter bees, but I refrain from distracting this already reckless driver.
"On the contrary, love, the less people involved in this prophecy, the better," I state.
She cautions, "You wouldn't be quick to speak on it if you knew how much power I have over the matter."
"Well, then pray tell. Why should I root for you?"
"If you listened to me at all, you know the Murder is the thing that created you. It wasn't your mother, it wasn't some witch in your viking village—they all had to come from somewhere and it was from those things that are on the loose as we speak. Do you understand? How else is supernatural kind any different than humans? We all think there is something bigger that made us. Well, you're right. And they're fucking crazy."
So, the usual reason: She's pissed off and ready to fight.
"Let me guess. We're going to be dealing with the 'ring-around-the-rosy' theory if we don't listen to you," I comment.
She comes to a stop at a red light on the road, turning her head away from me in a composed confusion of what I'm allocating.
"What the hell is that?" She scoffs.
"In a word, once you're ashes, we all fall down."
Once we've reached our destination, she looks me over when she puts the engine of her outdated emerald car to sleep at our destination. It's the last place we've thought to look: Marcel's recycled cathedral. We're in luck for the reason that I can smell her from outside.
"I will decide when violence is to result. Consider it an example of the grip you claim I don't have. You must let me talk to her," I tell her.
Jezebel comments, "It's not your decision. She's already set a pretty hostile mood."
I remove myself from the vehicle, following her closely, until she turns to me at the entrance.
"Try to limit yourself to hair-pulling," I order as she gets out of the car.
She slams the door, looking at me through the open window.
"I don't think you would want that; the situation in which that comes in handy is much different when I'm around women," she replies.
She evokes a sheepish smile out of me, sticking her hand into her side of the car and pressing the four-door lock as though I'm a child waiting in the backseat.
I wait a moment before I undo her action, to meddle outside the front entrance.
"There you are," inside, Aurora grimaces, "Oh! How unsightly. I suppose that nasty scar is my fault, I might have toyed with your vessel a little too much."
Jezebel direly commands, "Just set it down, and we can forget about it; you've got the attention you crave, that's enough."
"So in charge and in control. It reminds me of him...Nik. In every little syllable. Maybe that's why I—"
Jezebel interposes, "This isn't about him."
"Then, why tell me to stay away from him?" Aurora's excitement stirs. "Come on, it's obvious! You are jealous of us!"
I hear Jezebel move toward her despite that devastating wildness in Aurora's voice. I find myself letting go of the golden handles of the chapel doors, listening closely.
"Is that the only claim you have against me?" Jezebel scoffs. "You know, I'm a lot more fun when I want to be. And I'm not one to turn down a redhead."
Cracking glass echoes in my ears and Jezebel groans frustratedly.
"That was a cheap shot, even for you," Aurora sighs, "You're desperate. That means you'll do just about anything for this thing! So we're going to play a little game. One I think even you would enjoy. And then, we'll see who's leaving New Orleans."
A quick snap of plastic and breaking pottery sounds. The furious flush of noise makes me quickly strut into the threshold. What I thought was a party of two was a party of ten, including eight very familiar faces that accorded to my sister's sireline. All heads turn at the sound of my shoes hitting tile floors.
I announce myself, "Stop this charade."
Aurora's red hair gleams in the moonlight as she walks closer to me in surprise.
"This is not a charade, Nik. This is an intervention. You're in danger of losing the love of your life: Me. We're finally together after so long apart, all the world before us, if we can just dodge a few minor obstacles like this nuisance of a prophecy, my brother's internment, the insufferable influence of Elijah... But what I cannot overcome is what Jezebel will try and convince you of. She means to make me the monster, but you don't know her like I do! I've waited far too long to share you now. Call me jealous," Aurora exclaims.
"I remember full well the extent of your jealousies, but what surprises me is that they extend to the rival witch. She's a weapon of ours. Aurora, you can't believe she means anything to me," I tell her.
Aurora interposes, "But I do believe it! I see it, the way you look at her. I think you love her."
I have to stop myself from looking at Jezebel while she is expecting me to escape the neutral zone of the battlefield sooner or later.
I step toward Aurora, "You know I love you, Aurora."
Aurora smiles, her cheeks reddening at my confession. Jezebel jolts to her feet when Aurora looks down at the vessel in her hands.
"I'm so glad you admitted that. I wanted Jezebel to hear it before I destroyed this," Aurora mutters happily.
"Madre mía," Jezebel mumbles below her breath, looking at the cieling, "I'll play the game. Whatever it is, it's between the two of us. I lose, you can do whatever you want. You lose, at least, you'll have legs to get the fuck out of my way. Let's go."
Aurora brightens in merit, hands clasping together cheerfully.
"Now, that's the spirit!" A dangerous note in her voice rides the chapel gym's echo.
AURORA
I explicate, "This is how you play. Each of the cards has a number on it. Since they're tarot, sometimes they are reversed. That would make it the negative value of whatever number you've drawn. If upright you pull, you've earned a positive value. We'll draw three times. Then, we'll add them and see who has the biggest number in the end. You know the prize."
I have Chantal, a sire of Rebekah's, shuffle the deck for us.
Jezebel leans back in her seat, arms crossed and dazed in fashion. She doesn't look even remotely worried. We can change that quickly. I love watching the stony one of the brood grovel like a child.
"You know, I hear a lot of things about you—"
I draw, displaying an upright six of cups. A small sound of glee escapes me as, deadened, she listens.
"Especially, about the mystery child."
Nik tries to break in, "Aurora—"
"I don't see one now. Says a lot about you," I continue anyway.
Jezebel watches Chantal fan out the cards again before her to choose.
"Just relieved it wasn't my brother's. You know how that goes," she snidely returns.
I see a simper of Klaus's face, and two of the other sires around him. It makes my stomach jump for high enough ground which I can shoot back from. She thinks she can play the calm and collected one, but she doesn't know what's coming next.
She draws an inverted nine of swords. My smile widens, though, I can see Nik's lessen in good sentiment. I'm not sure who's side he's on anymore. It shouldn't matter. The whole point of the game is to get a running start and watch the loser descend into madness.
"Now, girls, let's not be nasty," Klaus unctuously pleads with a wide smirk.
"On the contrary, it was just something I heard," innocently, I declare. "Hadn't any idea it was true."
I draw with the shiny black border of the tarot to the sky, then turn it over to reveal the star. It counts for four, that puts me at thirteen and Jezebel at negative nine. She's hanging by a thread.
I point fingers, "For all I know, that's why you could be here. To take back the father."
Klaus's guttural restraint of a laugh comes in time with Jezebel's similar cheeky grin. She has no idea the possibilities he has yet to tell her about.
I add, "I do a lot of assuming perhaps, I should ask. Do you still love him?"
Jezebel flips over another arcana piece; an upright ace of cups. Not much to help her cause. Still, she doesn't back down. Her harrowing eyes and reserved body language all in good keeping.
"Do you?" She answers with an inquiry.
"That's the entire reason I'm here. To prove that I did!" I sourly remind her.
Her eyes shoot upwards to examine mine, the thick brows on her face touching base with the tips of her might long lashes. "You didn't hear me. I said 'do you'. English isn't my first language, but I'm sure I asked in present tense."
I flip over my last card lividly, standing from the table. Three of pentacles. I've won. I've done it! This is it for her!
"Nik," I call out. "Crush it. Crush the vessel."
He who has been entrusted as a neutral who holds the prize stands from his seat, stepping forward eagerly.
"Answer her question," he demands.
Jezebel is still browsing the rainbow of cars, the other sires getting restless just watching her.
I wasn't saying anything the entire time. It was humiliating to not have a decent reason for holding back. But I had yet to accept one fact. I followed Tristan here. I came to help Tristan as any decent sister would. Klaus was an afterthought that entertained me, but the thought of him being mine again...it threw me into a state of fleeting ecstasy. Because I forgot he wasn't Tristan, that he wasn't ever going to be any more loyal to me than my own brother.
Just then, Jezebel slaps a card over on its back. The world. Twenty one points intertwine with her negative value of eight to equal thirteen. We've tied.
She stands to meet my eyes. "Don't interfere in my life and I won't interfere in yours. You're lucky I don't kill you for this."
She doesn't want revenge, or a word against me... She's just going to leave. She's going to take him with her!
I hasten over to Klaus, ripping the item from his hands at an angle and break a large piece of the sundial off the shining golden tablet. The crunch of ivory and fine stone echoes in the room. Jezebel holds back a noise of pain. A dark line of destruction has appeared along her collarbone and neck.
One more divide and it's over. Klaus stops my hand from bending at the wrist and taking another piece off.
He grabs me, bringing me to the outside of the cathedral at vampire speed and presses me against the wall of the back exit.
"...Niklaus!" I huff lewdly.
The wheels are turning in his mind, but to me, they are fogged over by his conflicted gaze. We're here for a reason. Show me we are, my love.
"I tire of this fantasy. You were someone I left behind years ago. I am sorry, but I cannot put up a performance for you any longer—there is nothing between us now," he scowls, slowly letting go and turning away.
I push myself up off the dirty wall where I lean, heart pounding at the noise he's uttered.
"You're just angry. Lovers fight, but I promise that we are meant to be. I can prove it-"
"You think you know me? Then, know this. If you hurt Jezebel, if you get in my way I will gladly end you. Your spoiled little mind will then associate me with the Devil, and when your memories are rendered history, maybe you'll finally see you are— Ah! Nothing to me," he viciously interjects. "As of now, I need nothing from you."
JEZEBEL
Every time I look over at Klaus in this quiet car, I can just see how he seeps in his disappointment. I light myself a cigarette, and considering it to be just the thing he needs, I offer him the very last of this week's carton. He glances at it before turning his head away.
"I prefer a hearty drink in place of something so short-lived and less effective," he recalls.
I sighed, tossing it back on my dashboard, "I know. I just thought you could use it, anyway."
I hold the burning cigarette outside my driver window, away from his senses.
"What? To cope with the oncoming set of surreal consequences of upsetting my ex?" He estimates my intent.
"Would you prefer to talk about it? Because I wouldn't."
At the stoplight, I release the smoke to my left shoulder and into the wind instead of his face. He's staring at me somewhat intently to the point where I'm convinced I lost him to different issue.
"...I told her about the child because she found the gift that I gave to you all those years ago."
Nik's not a gossip; he never has been. He likes a buildup. She had to have pressured him into torturing her with stories of me and my happiness with Klaus once upon a time. Aurora is as self-destructive as it could get in that way.
Moreover, I couldn't place the gift he was talking about until it clicked in my mind why he'd bring up the baby in the same sentence. "Why did you save it if you knew I wouldn't use it?"
He wouldn't just admit it. No, he keeps it general. "People change their minds."
I shake my head. People also remember how it happened, usually, but that's also a missing factor here. I didn't know how or when that baby came to be. But I knew what it was, and it was something Klaus needed to be sheltered from.
I leave the topic alone and stop the car in front of the Abattoir, turning off the engine. He shifts in his seat until he is facing me and my nicotine insomnia. His bodiless foam green eyes are crossing the dividing patch of flesh between my brown and green irises as if there's some special effect that tears away to expose a real expression.
"When I heard of the birth, it came with the news of your death. How can something like that be misconstrued?"
I could have given Elijah away. I could have given everything up in this car if it meant Klaus would trust me again. But my better conscience got the best of me. There was a time and place for everything and it wasn't in his back alley driveway.
I answer, "The same way everything else was misconstrued. Closed minds. And for the record, I'm not here to proclaim my love for you or get you to see things my way. I'm just here to fix my mistake."
"Which would be?"
"Not telling you the truth in the first place."
"You lack to remember, love, that eventually the truth did come out. The truth in which you were a traitor and a fraud. You hurt my siblings, you lead me along, you pretended to be a prey where you were the predator!"
When I didn't speak to that, Klaus's eyes move out the window to the crowded street of tourists hustling from bar to bar on the through street.
"How did you know it would draw?" He changed the subject. "The game."
I honestly say, "I didn't. I relied on the odds of the given task. Sometimes, that's all you can do."
I count the seconds he doesn't respond before I put the cigarette out in between my fingers and toss it outside.
"You haven't changed. Not at all," suddenly, he has to say.
I pull a piece paper with my number on it from the beginning of my blouse and put it between two of my pointy fingertips for him to take.
"We'll see. Give me a call later," I add, "we'll see how much of a traitor you think I am when you hear what I have to say. You have to listen eventually, Nik. Your life depends on it."
