Author's note: Thank you for sending me so much encouragement about my writing; I really appreciate all of your support and I'm happy you're enjoying my drabbles. :)
Klarosummer Bingo Prompt: Museum docent
The incubus' expression still wasn't right. Klaus frowned, carefully smudging the charcoal to deepen the shadow. He'd been fascinated by Fuseli's The Nightmare ever since it was first exhibited in 1781. When the local art museum announced Fuseli's most recognized piece on loan from the Detroit Institute of Arts, he couldn't resist. During his initial visit, he'd fully intended to compel the security guards into delivering it directly to him...but then he caught sight of a pair of blazing blue eyes that had no business belonging to a mere human.
Her name was Caroline, and she was a fascinating mix of brilliance and sass wrapped up in sun-kissed curls and a no-nonsense blazer. He'd overheard the surprisingly knowledgeable museum docent give multiple tours, each time delighting the patrons with unique insights into the exhibits and witty anecdotes about the featured artists.
He was intrigued, and impulsively told her he that was an art student studying the Swiss masters to have an excuse to keep stopping by. Each day, he brought his sketchpad, alternating between recreating Fuseli's work and sneaking drawings of the feisty blonde. Despite his attempts to get to know her, she kept a professional distance that he respected. However, he also noticed that she'd started to linger a bit longer during her breaks, and slowly, he began to learn little tidbits about her life. From a small town. Art history major before dropping out of college. A surprising penchant for darker-themed masters like Bosch and Moreau.
"Hmm. Your attempt at depicting haunting and dreamlike evocation of infatuation and erotic obsession is slightly better than yesterday's attempt. Or the day before that. Or the day before that..." Caroline gleefully stage-whispered as she walked by the small alcove where he sat.
He smirked, assuming if she ever saw the numerous drawings of herself that she'd form considerably different opinions on his artistic interpretations of infatuation and erotic obsession. "Then you feel I've improved upon Fuseli's work, sweetheart?"
"Fuseli's talent is unparalleled in depicting horror that fascinates as much as it terrifies. Often hailed as a master of light and shadow, he was a rebellious soul who once had to flee Switzerland because of his politics," she replied, a teasing grin on her face as she casually flicked her gaze over Klaus to add, "While you seem like a trust fund baby who's wasting his talent copying the masters when he could be creating original art."
If she only knew. Over the centuries, he'd influenced and, in some cases, even taught many of the so-called masters she revered. Chuckling, he asked, "And what of you, love? Do you harbor artistic ambitions of your own?"
Shrugging, she answered lightly, "Not a trust fund baby, so nope. Just happy to get to work surrounded by so many beautiful pieces." There was a sadness to her eyes that Klaus had started to notice whenever he tried to get her to speak about herself, and a subtle caution with her words that was unusual in one so young. She was a mystery he intended to unravel. She stiffened beside him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the museum's director heading their way. A beady-eyed man who seemed to delight in barking orders at his subordinates, Klaus had idly contemplated eating him for a while now, and he suspected this exchange would solidify that urge.
"Klaus, right? I'm Dr. Alaric Saltzman, Director of New Acquisitions," he said with a certain amount of bluster that Klaus would've found amusing had he not blatantly interrupted his conversation with Caroline. Not bothering to wait for a reply, the irritating man carried on, gesturing to his most recent charcoal lines, telling him, "Say, that's some talent you have there, son. I'm having drinks tonight at the White Oak Pub with a few friends and would love for you to join us; it's never too early for a young art student to start networking, right?"
Klaus narrowed his eyes, his supernatural senses picking up a suspicious combination of nervous sweat and rapid heartbeat coming from Director Saltzman. He needed Klaus at that meeting. But for what purpose? He also noticed Caroline's rigid posture, the way she leaned away from the director and almost seemed to be blocking Klaus from the man's line of sight. How curious. "I'll have to get back with you," he answered coolly, "but I appreciate the offer, mate." The director turned to leave, clearly displeased by his response, and tersely reminded Caroline she had a tour group waiting.
She visibly relaxed once he was gone, pasting on a painful-looking smile as she told Klaus, "I should probably get back to work. Here's hoping it's retirees or schoolkids. I've hit my quota of bored dads who wink and stand way too close."
Klaus narrowed his eyes at that; he'd quietly eaten a few of the more insistent patrons as they were leaving the museum; he didn't appreciate the lack of decorum they'd shown around Caroline.
She started to walk away, but stopped, quickly glancing around before leaning down to whisper urgently, "Don't meet the director tonight." She didn't bother to say anything more, leaving him confused and a bit alarmed by how frightened she seemed.
Later on, he'd decided to wait around for Caroline, hoping to stage an 'accidentally on purpose' run-in so that he could try to learn what was going on. As he came downstairs and passed the hallway that led to the personnel offices, that's when he heard her vehemently hiss, "I told you no, Alaric. Not Klaus."
Klaus felt his fangs threaten to drop as the director threatened, "And I thought you'd learned your lesson after what happened to your mother."
"You've already recruited enough forgers to get the job done. You don't need Klaus," Caroline revealed, clearly shaken by his words.
A crime ring within the art museum? Now that was interesting. Klaus felt the warmth spread through his chest as he realized that despite her obvious fear of the consequences, Caroline was trying to protect him. As he listened to the director detail his plan, interwoven with despicable threats to Caroline, he started to make his own plans.
Caroline had tried to save him. It was his turn to save her.
Klarosummer Bingo Prompt: "The ritual needs daisies, not sunflowers!"
Fighting demons naked wasn't her first choice, but she'd be damned before she allowed them to steal the gold she'd spent the past month creating. Apparently, word had gotten out that Caroline was the only competent alchemist in the region, and the lower-level demons had been getting bolder in their attacks because they needed her gold to entice humans into bargains.
She jumped out of the bathtub, wet feet sliding on the tile as she raced downstairs to her lab. She saw the flare of red from the two demons' searing gaze as they crouched behind the table. Damn, the Lockwood clan was getting bold.
As their long, scaly fingers crept toward the stack of thin, gold plates, Caroline snarled, "Touch what's mine and you'll lose a hand." While they exchanged a series of guttural grunts in their language, Caroline quickly felt underneath the well-worn planks of the table, her hand instinctively curling around the familiar polished bone handle of her favorite scimitar. "Last chance," she warned, irritated that they barely gave her a second glance, clearly unconcerned by the threat she posed.
The moment one of the Lockwoods' claws covetously stroked the stacked gold, she rolled her eyes, cleanly slicing through his hand with her curved blade. She muttered under her breath as she saw the way the acidic yellow-green blood ate into the carefully applied varnish. Damn it — there went her weekend.
As the creature screeched, clutching its mangled stump while uselessly trying to claw at her, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and cringed as she saw her crystal alembic head shatter against the skull of the other demon. "Seriously?!" She whirled around to scold the familiar dimpled face who looked entirely too amused by the situation. "That was an antique, Nik! There were perfectly good, cheap glass beakers sitting right there."
"Well, forgive me for finding the most expedient method to defend you, love," he replied dryly, turning a menacing glare on the demons as they scrambled out of her house.
Caroline couldn't help the giggle that escaped as she watched Nik finally register that she was naked, a red flush creeping up his neck as he quickly averted his gaze. Nik had moved next door a few months ago, a somewhat competent warlock who'd come to her for help with some rudimentary spells that somehow blossomed into a flirty friendship. A friendship that she'd been trying to move along into something more, but so far, Nik had been frustratingly dense at picking up on her hints.
"I had it under control," she replied, rattling her scimitar for emphasis.
His voice was a bit strained as he mumbled, "Beautiful, naked blonde wielding a sword. Bloody hell, I swear you're trying to kill me."
Caroline grinned, taking her time finding the oversized long-sleeved shirts she wore to protect her skin when she melted down metals. "That's what you get for showing up early for your magic lesson," she cheekily admonished. Noting the sunflowers he was clutching, she let out an exasperated sigh, "The ritual needs daisies, not sunflowers!" She'd told him that over and over when he'd stopped by for a consultation yesterday. At least, she thought she did. She'd been growing increasingly alarmed by the bits of time she'd been losing lately.
And she had far too many secrets to not be in control. She was the only living alchemist to have successfully created the Philosopher's Stone — the key ingredient in immortality spells. Not only could she create powerful beings; she also could unmake them. She'd wisely hidden her abilities because of the warring supernatural factions, and now that there were whispers about the Originals' fearful return, she knew she'd made the right choice. Every story she'd ever heard about the oldest vampires in creation involved destruction and chaos as they slaughtered the world around them. No one knew why they'd suddenly resurfaced, and she had no interest in finding out.
"Are you alright, sweetheart? Did they harm you?"
She shook her head, her heart speeding up as she heard the concern in his voice. She squeezed his hand and softly reassured him. "I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind."
Nik's eyes sought hers, and she was touched by the worry she found there. "Would you like to tell me about it?"
The halting way he asked made her think that it was unusual for him to do so, and she filed that away to think about later. As much as she wanted to share her burden — the nagging fear that the Originals might find out about the Philosopher's Stone and her worries that the holes in her memory were more than just simple forgetfulness — she couldn't bring Nik into her mess. It was selfish and she couldn't bear the thought of her innocent warlock getting hurt because of her.
Suddenly, he placed both hands on her face, impulsively kissing her until they were both breathless. He broke away just as she'd started to take things further, panting slightly as he touched his forehead to hers. "I have something to confess, sweetheart. My name is Niklaus..."
