CHAPTER TWO

THE SUBTLE ART OF QUESTIONING

Not many patrons remained at the Grill at this late hour. Only a couple of tables were occupied, some kids were hovering around the pool table, but other than that, it was relatively quiet.

Damon was perching on his usual bar stool, face sullen, pushing around a half-empty bottle of Scotch. He'd had to get out of the house after another row with Stefan over Elena's vampire 'education'. How could his baby brother be so damn shortsighted? No one would ever know the consequences of not being able to master their bloodlust better than Stefan Salvatore, so his insistence on Elena not learning how to control her instincts around human blood was a mystery to Damon.

He shook his head in exasperation and poured himself another drink. Elena was everything to him, and her safety and happiness was the one thing he would never compromise on. But he loved his brother, too, and it was harder than he thought having to constantly quarrel with him. When had everything started to become so goddamn complicated? Sometimes he yearned for his more roguish days when he hadn't cared about a thing and could just be his usual wicked self. And hell, he missed Alaric. Being morose and getting hammered was only half as much fun without his late drinking buddy.

Sensing someone slide onto the stool to his right, he stiffened and furrowed his brows, giving an irritated sigh when he recognized the familiar scent.

"Klaus. Don't you have somewhere else to be, causing devastation or plotting armageddon?" he grumbled without looking at the Original.

"Why look far afield when there is so much mayhem close at hand?" Klaus replied cheerfully. "Everyone seems to be wallowing in doom and gloom tonight, so I can just sit back and relax."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Then go and relax elsewhere."

"I do think I rather like it here, mate." He eyed Damon's bottle and crinkled his nose, signaling the bartender.

"Sorry Sir, but we're about to close," she said apologetically.

Klaus' pupils dilated as his compulsion invaded the girl's mind. "You will keep the bar open until I no longer require you," he purred, smiling eerily.

"But I will of course keep the bar open for as long as you like," she murmured.

"That's the spirit! So how about a bottle of Laphroaig? As it comes. Decent tumblers please, not those pathetic shot glasses." He looked around. "At some point, one of us will actually need to purchase this place and do something about the irritatingly inconvenient opening hours."

Seeing Damon's incredulous face, he chuckled. "No worries, mate. I will still hate you in the morning."

"Now that's relief. For a minute there, I was starting to get seriously scared."

When the Whisky arrived, they downed the first drink in silence, each of them dwelling on their own thoughts. Refilling their glasses, Klaus casually leaned on the bar counter, looking at Damon curiously.

"Why so glum tonight, mate? I haven't threatened you or your precious doppelganger in at least a week, the council is gone and there should be no impending doom over anyone's head for the next couple of hours. Quite dull, actually. So why the sullen face?"

"I'll be damned if that's any of your business," Damon hissed.

"If Christian catechisms are to be believed, you are damned as it is," Klaus grinned. "Well, let me make an educated guess. What could it be but doppelganger trouble?"

"Why do you ask if you already know? And why don't you just stick your ancient Original nose into your own damn business?"

"Oh, but your business is so much more entertaining right now," Klaus snickered. He took another sip of his drink and did nothing to hide the amused smile gracing his features. He really did dislike Damon, but there was something about young Salvatore that he recognized. The man was no coward and a happy-go-lucky, reckless player at that. It made him think of himself, of the way he had been prior to… He shut the thought down immediately. As he had done for the last six hundred years.

Damon narrowed his eyes at Klaus. "Why don't we make a deal? You tell me why you are in such a disgustingly good mood, and then I might let you buy another bottle."

"Interesting. What do I get out of this so-called deal?"

"Nothing."

A wicked grin spread across Klaus' face. He was actually enjoying himself. "Learning fast, are you? Only that I am afraid you will need to find a less versed sparring partner to practice your blossoming negotiation skills on." He paused. "Like the doppelganger, for example? Can't be too hard to negotiate her into your bed, can it? Damon Salvatore, the eternal stud? She is just a teenager after all, and luring her away from your ever-brooding brother shouldn't present you with that much of a challenge."

Damon glared darkly at Klaus, who was nonchalantly sipping his drink and smirking at him suggestively.

"Says the guy who's been trying in vain to get into Blondie's pants for months now? Besides, that's not what things with Elena are about, which you are perfectly well aware of," Damon snarled, seeing the trap too late.

"Ah well, so it is not the eternal love triangle that has you sulking this time, therefore it must be a new doppelganger problem. Venturing another educated guess, I would speculate that Elena has difficulties adapting to her new vampire self and you and Stefan are in disagreement over how to guide her through it. Stefan tries to sell her on that appalling petting zoo diet of his. He doesn't want her to learn to feed on humans properly, saying it is because she won't be able to live with herself if she did. His real motivation, however, being the fact that he wouldn't be able to teach her himself, ripper that he is. He would have to leave her in your capable hands, and he would rather take off his daylight ring and go sunbathing than allowing that. And of course, your thoughts are nothing but chaste and pure, mate."

With a satisfied smile at Damon's black scowl, Klaus leaned back and refilled his glass.

Damon's silence was as eloquent as any spoken answer. He downed his drink and reached for the bottle.

"Congratulations, Sherlock," he snapped after a while.

"Come on, mate. You don't want to have me believe that you…" He stopped midsentence, a look of deep concentration settling on his face. He cocked his head and listened to something Damon couldn't quite make out. There definitely was a case to be made for heightened Original senses.

With a light smile, Klaus quickly gulped down the contents of his glass and rose. "We are apparently missing quite the party outside. And no one thought of inviting us." He tsked. "Would you care to join me? Your ill temper may come in handy after all."

"What's going on?"

"It would seem my sister is having an interesting encounter in the alley. Although we are not currently on speaking terms, she is family after all."

"You seriously think I will actually help that crazy bitch? After she purposely killed Elena of all people? You're more delusional than I thought, Big Bad!"

"I was not asking for your help, Damon. I can manage just fine by myself, and so can Rebekah. I was merely offering some entertainment." With that, Klaus strode off towards the back door.

Damon stared after him, momentarily at a loss. Then he huffed, downed his Scotch and followed Klaus outside.

Stepping into the dark alley behind the Grill, Klaus scanned the scenario with a soldier's eye.

Three men. Humans. Stakes. Is that… white oak? Worry about that later. A fourth man at the entrance to the alley, his back to the group. Smallish. Watchdog. No – look at his stance. That one is no watchdog. He is the leader, just not getting his hands dirty. Rebekah, her back to the wall, fangs out, snarling. Cornered. She is upset and will therefore not be able to take down all three simultaneously. These men are on a mission. Take them down left, center, right. Keep your eyes and ears on the leader.

He heard a sound behind him and smiled. Damon had decided to join the fun after all. Klaus took one step to the left, making his intentions clear. Damon positioned himself next to him, looking at the man in the middle with an eerie smile. Klaus grinned approvingly. Damon was nothing if not clever. Then he imperceptibly nodded towards the fourth man. "Yep, see him," Damon exhaled under his breath, too low for any human to hear.

Klaus cast a quick look at his sister. A sharp pang went through him – despite everything, he hated to see her vulnerable, although he was well aware that he was the true cause of her distress, rather than the three men who were now looking decidedly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she was indeed upset, and her judgment was impaired.

"Well, well," Klaus said pleasantly, "what a most charming little gathering. Rebekah, I believe introductions are in order, don't you?" He saw his sister relax to an extent, although she was still wary of his intentions. But she played along. They were well attuned after all. She pointed to the tall man on Klaus' left.

"May I introduce – this one called me a dirty vamp slut. This one," she jerked her head towards the red-haired man in the middle, "said I was an abomination with a cute ass. And the last one was wondering if anyone in history had ever actually fucked a vamp right before staking her. Or was it 'while' staking her? I can't really remember. Help me, darling?" She looked at the third man. "What was it again?" The man paled visibly, flinching away from Rebekah's very deadly smile.

"Oh, Rebekah. Don't be vexed. I am most delighted to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. Please do not mind my sister, she can be so sensitive." He saw Bekah's eyes narrow, but she kept quiet. This was his game, and she would follow his lead as she always had.

"May I introduce, this is Damon Salvatore. His currently somewhat aggravating domestic situation has him in desperate need of diversion, and as I was the one promising him he would find it out here, I do expect you to be good sports and give us some decent resistance. Oh, I am sorry, how rude of me – my name is Klaus."

All three men went still at his words. So they knew who he was. Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus saw the fourth man turn around slowly, his face hidden in the shadows. Something about him was vaguely familiar, very unpleasantly so, but Klaus could not quite place it. He turned his attention back to the men in front of him. In the blink of an eye, he felled the tall man, grabbing the oak stake with his left hand and simultaneously pulling the stranger's heart out with his right. He carelessly tossed the still beating organ over his shoulder and looked up to the entrance of the alley. The fourth man was gone. He flashed towards the street, scanning it in all directions. The man had actually disappeared. Slightly annoyed, he returned to the others. Damon had casually snapped the redhead's neck and was now evenly watching Bekah who had the third man by the throat, holding him a few inches above the ground.

Brushing some imaginary dust off his lapel, Klaus strolled towards the man, playing with the stake and sporting one of his deadlier smiles. Damon grinned as well.

"Didn't you say something about entertainment, Klaus? I left my drink behind, and I didn't even have to turn for this, so you'd better make it worth my while now!"

Klaus chuckled, gazing at the trembling man apologetically. "You will have to forgive young Mr. Salvatore here. The impatience of youth! Please rest assured that I will take my time getting to know you better, Mr…?" The man choked under Rebekah's hold. "Oh, do put him down, Rebekah. I am very keen on learning more about our new friend here."

Rebekah released him, and he collapsed onto the ground, coughing loudly, holding his throat.

Klaus crouched before him, watching the man with amused eyes. "So, let us try again. Assuming you are on vervain, we will probably have to do this the traditional way. Who are you, and why are you unsuccessfully trying to bully innocent vampires?"

"Innocent, my ass!" the man croaked.

"Damon, I do believe you were complaining about a lack of quality in tonight's entertainment program. Would you like to do the honours?"

"My pleasure," Damon replied, walking past Rebekah while swiftly pulling a pin out of her hair.

"Hey!"

"Stop whining, Original Barbie." He knelt down next to the man, grabbing his arm and pulling up his sleeve. With a flourish, he stuck the pin deep into the man's wrist and pulled open a wide gap all along his forearm. At the same time, Klaus' hand closed over the man's mouth, muffling his agonized scream. Damon sniffed the pouring blood. "Vervain."

"I thought so," Klaus said. "All right then, next round. Who are you, what are you doing here and what makes you say you want to – what was it again, Rebekah? Fuck a vampire while staking her?" Rebekah nodded. "One less pervert to wander this beautiful planet, I suppose that is some consolation." Damon chuckled.

The man was panting. He knew that his fate was sealed, Klaus could see it in his eyes. The question now was, would he make it hard on himself or choose a quick end?

"Is it really important who I am?" the man asked.

"Oh, I always like to know who I am dealing with. And having introduced myself, I would deem it polite for you to reciprocate."

"My name is Gilles de Rais."

Klaus recoiled. He felt himself grow pale and saw Rebekah flinch. Damon was looking at him curiously. He quickly gathered his wits and fought down the surge of panic with all his might.

"Which is not your real name," he stated matter-of-factly, hating the faint strain he could detect in his own voice and hoping no one else had noticed.

"No, of course not. But my real name is of no consequence to anyone. I am however glad to see that the master was right."

"Who is that master of yours, and what was he right about?"

"Your reaction. The last one of us who remained alive was to say that name to you. He said we were to make you remember."

Seldom in his entire existence had Klaus had to fight this hard not to betray any emotion and to keep his gaze and voice steady. He was all but howling inside. The memories had been simmering inside him for centuries, but he had been certain that he had finally conquered them. He should have known better. But he was still Klaus. A master of the game – no one looking at him could have guessed his turmoil. His face was a façade of perfect serenity.

"And who, pray tell, is that enigmatic master of yours who likes to send his lackeys into certain death for the sake of his pathetic little games?"

"He said to convey to you that you will find out in due course. He also said to tell you, Klaus Mikaelson, that you will soon discover that there is someone you will come to love above everyone else, above your own life even, and that he is going to take that someone away from you in a way that will destroy you beyond repair."

Klaus was painfully aware of Rebekah's and Damon's eyes on him. "Well, thank you for the most intriguing recital. However, we are deviating." He grabbed the stake and rammed it right into the man's femoral artery. This time, it was Damon who clasped his hand over the man's screaming mouth.

"You are definitely easy to work with," Klaus commented dryly with a sideways glance at Damon, while still struggling to control the raging storm inside his mind. "You're not the only gorilla in the jungle," Damon snickered. "Don't get ahead of yourself," Klaus countered, but he was smiling.

"Boys," Rebekah interjected, "whilst I appreciate the badass bonding moment, could we be done sometime soon?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, she's right," Damon agreed. "My drink is getting stale."

Klaus had regained full control of himself. He looked at the man in mock chagrin. "Youth," he sighed again, "no appreciation for the subtle art of questioning." He rammed the stake into the man's other thigh, with Damon continuing to muffle his screams.

"I like your interpretation of subtlety, Klaus," he grinned appreciatively.

"So," Klaus went on, gesturing for Damon to let the man answer, "who is your master and why does he think he has an axe to grind with me? Many people have, but I usually do know why I am being attacked. Or my family, for that matter." He cast a quick look at Rebekah, who pointedly glanced in another direction.

"I don't know anything about that. But what I do know is that he is more powerful than you will ever be," the man rattled.

"Ahm…," Damon threw in sarcastically, jerking his thumb towards Klaus, "have you actually met this guy?"

"Oh please," Klaus chuckled darkly, "you are making me blush!" Damon burst into laughter. This was actually fun. Well, it certainly helped not to be on the receiving end of Klaus' powers for a change.

"My master knows your weak spot even before you will discover it yourself. And he knows how to hit where it really hurts. He knows your deepest fear, and he will use that knowledge and all of his powers against you," the man whispered, looking at Klaus with a faint smile.

Klaus gave him a very eerie smirk. "Oh, but this is where it gets dicey, mate. I do not fear anything or anyone." He could see the man had lost a very substantial amount of blood and would soon slip into unconsciousness. "But let me make a quick deduction myself, just before you leave us," he ventured on. "Your master is a warlock, and one of the ancient bloodlines at that. Otherwise he would not delude himself into believing that there is anything he could actually concoct to stir an Original Hybrid. Ah, witches and warlocks. Always so full of themselves." He shook his head. "He sent you to probe my family's strength, and you decided that provoking my sister would be the easiest way to lure us out of our reserve. He wanted to verify the existence of our bond – to know whether I would stand by her side. Which, by the way, she would not have required in the slightest. And he chose you three as cannon fodder because you were…" he looked at the man more closely. There was a peace in his features that hadn't been there earlier, and Klaus' face lit up with sudden understanding, "…suicidal. You want to die. He promised you a quick and painless death at our hands."

The man stared at Klaus, wide-eyed. "He said you were very intelligent. Maybe you stand a chance, maybe not. I still wouldn't want to be in your shoes, Klaus Mikaelson."

"Famous last words," Klaus said evenly, and without further ado, he snapped the man's neck with an eerily elegant move.

"Okay, I stand corrected," Damon snickered. "It was entertaining after all, what with all the ominous threats. I just pity whoever it is you will start to love soon. Let's hope it's not going to be Blondie." Klaus glared at him menacingly, but Damon was unperturbed by the dark scowl. "And seeing the Scourge of Carpathia actually showing mercy towards a suicidal stranger… that was a first, I presume. Shall we drink to that?"

"He was almost dead anyway. Why get my hands dirtier than necessary. Go ahead, I will be right in. I'll just quickly take care of this mess," Klaus replied. He needed a moment. Damon looked at him quizzically but for once, he knew better than to comment. Shrugging, he disappeared into the Grill.

Klaus and Rebekah looked at each other for a long moment. Then Rebekah gave a sharp nod and walked off into the night. Klaus gazed at her retreating form and sighed. He was still angry with her, and so was she. They were both equally stubborn, and it would take them forever to come around. But they might need to speed up the reconciliation process this time, for Klaus was not certain what to make of the events that had unfolded tonight, and he really did not want to face this new mystery while having to watch his back for a scornful Rebekah. Had he really complained about things being dull earlier this evening?

He started contemplating tonight's developments. The three men had merely been pawns of no further importance. Klaus had to admire the suicidal twist, but there was nothing more to them than had met the eye.

Gilles de Rais. Thoughts were coming up, flickers of memories were trying to boil out of his dungeon, the one place where his darkest moments were buried, hidden deep inside him. The dungeon was a deep, dark oubliette full of unspeakable cruelties – some of them his own, others he had merely witnessed. But one memory stood out and was therefore guarded more ferociously than any other. Klaus had learned to effectively battle down this particular remembrance whenever it threatened to sneak its way into his consciousness, triggered by a word, an image, a smell.

He started to dispose of the bodies, piling them into a nearby waste container, followed by the three white oak stakes. Scanning his surroundings, he made sure nobody was watching. Then he set fire to the bodies, seeing to it that everything inside the container was burned beyond recognition and the stakes were reduced to ash. Most of the blood in the alley had already been flowing into the drain, so there was no need for any further cleaning.

Staring into the night, listening to the crackling fire inside the container, he gathered the facts. He could not fathom how it was possible, but someone apparently knew about what had happened all those centuries ago. The only other living being who had an idea of the events – albeit a very vague one – was Elijah, and if there was one thing Klaus knew with absolute certainty, it was that Elijah would never speak of this to anyone. They hadn't even mentioned it between each other after those days. Not once in six hundred years. And then there were the white oak stakes – where did they come from? There had to be more, for no one in his right mind would put them in the hands of three humans who would give them up so easily if he wasn't sure that there was further supply. The fourth man – the so-called master, no doubt – had also looked vaguely familiar. A warlock. Threatening to take away the one person that he loved the very most, or would come to love the very most in the future. And this was meant to destroy him. Oh yes, love was a vampire's greatest weakness indeed.

But this could easily be avoided. There was no one he loved besides his family, was there? So he would watch over them even more fiercely than before until the threat was removed. And he would be very careful not to grow attached to anyone else. A soft, pearly woman's voice inside his head whispered, and what if you already have?

No. She was an infatuation, a challenge. He would have her in his bed eventually, get her out of his system and be done with that blasted distraction. She meant nothing beyond that. She didn't. Did she? Shaking off the more than disturbing thought, he grabbed his phone. He needed his family within reach, and he needed to speak to someone. He pushed the speed dial.

"Elijah?"