Dark Side.
Chapter 17: Bad Moon Rising. Part II.
Alaric thinks she's driven by instinct. To an extent, he's right. Cassandra moves because instinct tells her to protect her own; something she's always been driven to do. Rationality, however, kicks in a second before she reaches Vanessa. So, instead of killing her or maiming her in any way, like Alaric thinks she'll do, Cassandra pushes Vanessa into the closest wall. Vanessa gasps, scrambles as she tries to point the crossbow at Cass. The redhead rolls her eyes, rips the crossbow out of Vanessa's hands. The weapon isn't even loaded. What is she going to do, hit her over the head with it? Yeah, because that'll stop her.
"Okay! Okay!" Vanessa splutters, hands up in surrender.
Cassandra pushes her harder into the wall, arm across Vanessa's chest. No room for sudden movement. No room for escape.
"Damon? Are you okay?" she calls, not straying her eyes away from Vanessa.
"Yeah…"
His voice is strained. She can hear him struggling to rise to his feet. But, hey, he's alive. Alaric steps closer to her until he's standing near the door, effectively blocking Vanessa from the only viable exit. That answers the question on whether or not Alaric has gotten over the shock. Only one left.
Cassandra turns back to Elena. She's standing still, mouth hanging open, hands hovering around her waist, fingers splayed like she's waiting to lean on something. Her eyes are stuck to Damon's rising figure.
"Elena, what about you?"
At her voice, Elena's head snaps up. Dark eyes widen. Mouth slides shut.
"I—I'm okay!" Elena swallows with a curt nod.
Without being prompted, the brunette moves towards Damon. Her hands wrap around his arm. Trusting Elena to help Damon out with that arrow, Cassandra turns back to a still cowering Vanessa.
They decide to sit her down by the desk, a place to keep her cornered without actually doing anything that would get her to scream loud enough for outsiders to notice. Alaric stands in front of her, arms crossed, a guard-dog waiting for the order to attack. Cassandra stands behind her, because if it does come to attacking, she knows Alaric won't dare to, no matter how threatening he looks right now.
Vanessa sits quietly, arms crossed not in a challenging way, but in petulance. Her legs bounce up and down like she's impatient. It's very strange. Cassandra was expecting more fear than… well, whatever this is. Clearly the only reason Vanessa attempted to kill Elena is because she has heard of Katherine's reputation, not because she's afraid of vampires.
She meets Alaric's eyes. His eyebrow quirks in a question, his mouth purses to the side. What's the plan? Cassandra shrugs. We'll see as we go. The way she sees it, they get what they came here for and compel this woman to forget it all. Sadly, neither Alaric nor Elena are going to agree with that plan.
Vanessa notices the moment of silent conversation and mistakes it for distraction. She makes a run for it, rising to her feet as she angles her body towards the exit. Alaric pushes her backwards at the same time Cassandra tugs on her hair hard enough to send her back down into the chair. The two of them share a nod. They make a better team than Cassandra ever thought they would.
"Please!" Vanessa cries out. She pushes herself forwards again, but doesn't attempt to get up. "I freaked out, okay?"
She leans on her knees as she covers her face. Her breathing starts to become slightly labored. Cassandra doesn't buy into this elaborated sudden panic.
"You would have done the same thing, it's not possible!" she insists. "Katherine Pierce can't be alive, and Damon Salvatore died in 1864, okay?" When she is met with blank, unimpressed eyes, Vanessa slumps back in her seat. "I read Isobel's research."
"You did? I never would have guessed." Cassandra sends her the most passive-aggressive smile she can muster.
Alaric shoots her an unamused look, making her feel like they're back in Junior Year American History, before turning to Vanessa.
"If that's true, then you know just how possible this is."
Vanessa opens her mouth, ready to rebut. She pauses as her eyes stick to the other side of the room. Elena and Damon enter the conversation in two completely different mindsets. Elena, careful. Damon, pissed off. Still, it's nice to see they could stop the domestics long enough to help out with this predicament. Damon moves until he's standing right next to Cassandra, his arm brushing the back of her shoulder. Elena steps closer to Vanessa but keeps a safe distance. This woman did just try to kill her, after all. Vanessa slams her mouth shut, observes the other two with apprehension.
"I'm Elena Gilbert, Isobel's daughter and a descendant of Katherine Pierce." Elena explains. Vanessa listens intently, silent. "That's Cassandra Woodhouse." Elena points at her.
Vanessa turns to look at her. Her body tenses, she visibly swallows. Jeez, it's not like I'm Al Qaeda, Cassandra grumbles inwardly.
"And this is Damon Salvatore who you just shot." Elena adds.
Her tone of voice grows bitter, her eyes harden. Vanessa mutely stares up at Damon.
"I'd be extra nice to me right now." He warns with a deadly smirk.
"And useful." Cassandra pipes up. "I'm talking Mary Poppins' Spoonful of Sugar on crack."
Her tone of voice is sweet, like she couldn't hurt a fly. It's too sweet. Just feigned enough that Vanessa understands there is no room for argument. This is not a request, and not following this order will end terribly wrong for her. Vanessa narrows her eyes slightly at her words, almost imperceptibly, but nods anyways.
"Look, we need your help, okay?" Elena interrupts, stepping forward. She sends a not-so-subtle glare Cassandra's way. "We need to see all of Isobel's research, anything related to Mystic Falls."
Cassandra isn't sure if it's Elena's kindness, Damon's veiled threat, Alaric's pressing eyes, Cassandra's suggestion, or a combination of all four. But against all odds, Vanessa agrees.
It takes Vanessa twenty minutes to locate the research they requested. Twenty whole minutes of Alaric pacing, Elena and Damon once more having a silent argument, and Cassandra wanting to rip her own fingernails out. Maybe that'd be more interesting than Isobel's ancient tapestries from the sixteenth century. Oh, that one is definitely a fake.
"Right!"
Vanessa's out of breath exclamation snaps her out of her studying the fake tapestry. The fact that Isobel didn't notice its unauthenticity has Cassandra wondering how the woman located her at all. She sends the forged tapestry one last scowl before turning to everyone else, congregated by one of the study tables in the center of the room.
"This box checks Katherine's arrival to Mystic Falls in April 1864." Vanessa explains, hoisting the box onto the table.
Elena opens the cardboard box. Her face falls in utter disappointment. Curious, Cassandra steps closer. The box isn't half-empty. It is not, however, as full as Cassandra expected it to be. No wonder Elena looks so defeated.
"Is this all there is about her?" Elena asks as she flicks through some of the documents inside the box.
"All that I'm aware of," is Vanessa's useless answer.
Cassandra frowns. This cannot be it. The Petrova book isn't even here. She knows that's how Isobel knows everything about Katherine, knows what she needs to know about Elena's fate and her striking resemblance to Katherine. Also, and most importantly, there isn't a single file or object in this meagre box that belongs to her.
"What about me?" Cassandra asks Vanessa.
"What about you?" Vanessa answers with a nervous giggle. "Isobel didn't have any research on you."
Cassandra leans on the table with one hand, body angled towards the taller human girl. Despite the clear height difference, Vanessa's nervousness only seems to double when the redhead levels her eyes with hers. Cassandra observes her for a moment. Vanessa's neck tenses, the muscles in her shoulders jolt up, harsh and sudden and obvious in her skinny form.
"That's a lie."
"Okay…" Vanessa allows, a light scoff leaving her lips. "Well, if she did, she never told me."
Her heartbeat wavers. The girl's heart flutters, skips, summersaults within her ribcage before continuing its normal rhythm. Wow, either Vanessa is shitting her pants and is somehow good at covering. Or she's lying said pants off. Cassandra doesn't have to think twice about what option is the right one.
"Oh, that's a lie too." Cassandra laughs, dangerous and threatening.
"No, it's not!" Vanessa shakes her head. "I swear!"
Cassandra hums. She takes another step towards Vanessa, fingers trailing behind her on the smooth, varnished surface of the table. To the right, Elena discretely takes a step away from the table. Out of her peripheral vision, she witnesses Alaric's readied stance, Damon's relaxed observation. In front of her, Vanessa visually swallows.
"You recognized me the second I went in." Cassandra points out. Her head tilts to one side. "I mean, true, my reputation precedes me in the supernatural world, but your heart is racing. So, how about you give me what I want, and, in exchange, I show you mercy." At that, she smiles sweetly.
"Cassandra…" Alaric warns.
She ignores it. Instead, she simply looks at Vanessa, waiting how long it'll be until she cracks. She bets it'll be within five seconds. She's wrong. It takes Vanessa eight seconds to speak.
"There's…" Vanessa starts. She clears her throat; her eyes find the floor for a moment before flittering back up. "Isobel's research on you is extensive. I'll need help bringing it all in."
"Great!" Cassandra exclaims happily. "Alaric and Elena will go with you."
No way is she having Damon look at said research before she does. The three humans move to the door reluctantly, lead by Vanessa. She watches them go, heart suddenly stuck between her collarbones. Her lungs feel empty, light-weight, like they're not even there. She rubs at her chest, breathes in once, and turns to Damon with pursed lips and questioning eyebrows. He's been annoyingly staring for a while. Which is even more annoying considering she feels like she's about to freak out. What if Isobel knows a little too much? What if she's wrong and Isobel didn't find her locket? She's been looking for it for years, and she thinks Isobel has it. But what if she doesn't?
Damon looks away from her. He leans lazily against the bookshelf, mouth stretching into a small smirk that could be considered a smile if it weren't for his body language.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing." He shrugs.
This time, his could-be smile becomes a real smirk. The one he wears whenever. The one she's come to realize is mostly used as a defence mechanism.
"You're scarier than I remember." He teases.
His eyes do this thing. This thing that paired with a smirk becomes very, very attractive. She passes her tongue across her front teeth, lips pursed, before inevitably laughing.
"Look who's talking."
Damon shrugs, chuckling. Her laugh dissolves into a relaxed smile. Surprised, she notices her blood no longer runs with dread.
Four filing cardboard boxes. Out of the four boxes, two are considerably less heavy. Four boxes. That's what her five hundred and thirty years boil down to. It's… painful. She thought it'd be more. Yet again, she's spent the better part of that living as ghost.
"This one here," Vanessa opens the one closest to her. Elena leans over, curious. "Is pretty much all Isobel could find about your human life."
Hastily, Cassandra drags the box towards her, placing the lid back in place. Vanessa throws her hands up in the air, startled at the sudden movement. Cassandra cringes. Great job, pal, real smooth.
"I'm just going to… um…"
"Clearly, someone doesn't want us to see her dirty little secrets." Damon sing-songs.
Cassandra falters. They're cornering her now. Even Alaric is looking at the box between her hands with veiled interest.
"Shouldn't you guys be looking for dirt on Katherine and the Lockwoods?" she asks with a calmness that's everything but genuine.
Not that they know that. Alaric nods, getting the hint immediately and moving to the adjacent table, where Isobel's general research on Mystic Falls lies. Not bothering to check if Damon followed, she hesitantly opens the box. Thankfully, it's mostly empty. There's the register from the family book stating her birth, her full name in display for everyone to read. How embarrassing. The freaking original Order of the Garter decree of 1493, with her name highlighted in yellow. The bitch highlighted an ancient parchment. There's some jewelry, a hairbrush, and a little pouch filled with gold coins. Nothing about her first marriage… or French court… or her second engagement. Thank the lord.
"What's this?" Damon asks, reaching into the box.
Cassandra rolls her eyes. He could at least ask if it was okay to snoop around. Damon grabs the leather-bound book by the corner of the box. It's not a large book, two-hundred pages at the most, with a dark-red leather cover and golden cursive letters forming the title. She's read it before; it's utter bullshit.
"Lady Cassandra Woodehouse, Europe's First Sweetheart?" Damon reads with a frown.
"Yeah, we're burning that." She scoffs, throwing the book back into the box. "Actually, we're burning this whole damn box."
"Why?" Elena gasps.
"Because while I'm trying to overlook the fact that Isobel defaced an invaluable historical document to an irreparable degree—" Cassandra sighs. She nervously scratches at her eyebrow, eyes stuck to the equivalent of her birth certificate in her hands. "I can't allow anyone to have these."
With one fluid motion, she rips the parchment in half. Vanessa gasps aloud, hands flailing forward as an attempt to stop her. Cassandra ignores it and proceeds to rip the parchment into fours before unceremoniously dropping the pieces back into the box. Broken up Medieval Latin stares up at her, taunting.
"Isobel could barely read it!" Vanessa protests. Cassandra looks up at her, at the utter panic in her face. "All she knew was that's your name and birth date."
The slight satisfaction at knowing that Isobel was unable to understand the outdated script is dimmed by the utter pain wrapping around her heart. This is too much already, and they just got started. Clearing her throat, she pushes the box away from her before looking at the remaining three.
"Which one has my things from 1864?" she asks Vanessa.
"That one." Vanessa points to the box closest to Elena.
"Great, thanks."
Cassandra pulls the box towards her, ignoring Elena's sympathetic glances, and moves to the table nearest to the window. There, she overturns the box until all of its contents fall out in a heap on top of the large table. There's a considerable amount of information within this box: correspondence, music sheet, ribbons, and more. No wonder John Gilbert was so smug. Around her, nobody speaks, nobody moves. When Damon takes a step towards her table, she looks up from the mess before her.
She's not sure what it is, but whatever he sees in her face halts him mid-step. His eyebrows lift slightly, lips part as his face softens into understanding. He nods once before turning to Elena and kindly reminding her what they're really here for. Immediately, Elena stops staring at Cass. She mumbles a quiet of course and returns to the table where the research on Katherine is.
"Thank you." Cassandra exhales, quiet, as she meets Damon's eyes once more.
He simply shrugs before walking towards the other side of the room, where Alaric is idly looking through an old logging book. She waits five seconds, long enough to make sure Elena is once more enthralled by information on Katherine, long enough to see Damon and Alaric begin a light conversation on Mystic Falls' speculated lore. She doesn't want an audience for this. Not for one of the most vulnerable years of her life.
The first thing she notices is her copy of Liszt's concerto, neatly put away in the same leather folder it always had been in. The initials C.M.W. are barely visible now. The second thing, three letters. All from the man standing seven feet in front of her. Her fingers trace his loopy calligraphy, feeling the small indents where he'd pushed harder on the thin paper. Eyes stick to his back. Cassandra had wanted to take them with her but hadn't been able to. Meaning Emily seemed to miss them when she grabbed the few essentials she could from her old room. Along with her locket.
The thought reminds her of why she's really here. That locket is important. Not to say it's her most valued possession. One she was stupid enough to take off the morning of the vampire round-up. She wanted to keep it safe, in case Katherine decided to betray her. Except when it was time to receive the small suitcase from Emily with the few vital possessions she owned, the locket was nowhere to be found.
So, she looks through everything, pushing invoices for dresses and more ribbons away, old, half-empty bottles of perfume, that ugly-ass hair pin tasteless George Lockwood gifted her with. Cassandra breathes in once, deep, a feeble attempt at keeping her emotions in check. Her eyes sting in the most annoying way possible. She presses her lips together, front teeth digging into the inner skin of her bottom lip. She entwines trembling fingers together, thumb fiddling with her brother's ring on her index finger.
Her locket isn't here.
UPDATED: 16/01/2020