Wicked Casters

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Vampire Diaries / The Originals, and American Horror Story

Chapter 21: New Orleans

Eleanor's POV

New Orleans, the second Caster capital in the United States: home of the French Quarter witches and Voodoo tribes. For almost three hundred years, this was a sanctuary, or at least for the Salem Coven. The moment we enter the land of the rising sun, memories of my grandfather warning me of the dangers of a vampire coven taking control of the city. A vampire named Marcel has authority over New Orleans, and the French Quarter Casters are on watch. They were oppressed in using much magic or overexposing their culture. Since New Orleans knows about the advertisement for magical voodoo.

I asked Grandfather Horatio why the Salem Casters were not affected by Marcel's benevolent power. Apparently, the previous Supreme Anna Leigh Leighton made the peace. From 1950 to 1971, she tried to make peace with the vampires and Voodoo clans. So far, she made a truce with Marcel that the Salem Casters will not get involved with his coven while keeping the peace between the French Quarters Coven and Voodoo clan.

Besides making a truce with the vampire coven and Marcel, there is still conflict between Salem Casters and the Voodoo clan. Then again, there is the dispute about Tituba being a voodoo witch or a Salem witch. Somehow the French Quarter witches and Voodoo clan are amends, but not the Salem casters. Not when Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau is in control. Especially not since Mimi DeLongpre created the truce in the thirties while Anna Leigh Leighton confirmed and set in stone the truce before she disappeared. The last person to see her is Fiona Goode, saying she went to give Marie Laveau an expensive bottle of wine, a gift of the truce. The council of the second rank debated till deciding to believe the successor of this accusation. Ergo the rift of affiliation or simple familiarity.

Throughout history, New Orleans was run by four groups: The vampires, Casters, humans, and werewolves. In the beginning, the Casters were maintaining the basics for themselves and the humans. However, the ideology in which New Orleans was founded by the Mikaelson Family, the Originals, in 1718. The French and Salem Casters added more security when the city was built, collaborating with the Voodoo clan in the magical arts. Then the werewolves integrated, having control outside of the city. As for the humans, they lived in ignorant bliss. Yet like any powerful group, conflicts rise, and people live or die. As the French Quarter Witches were on guard, since the werewolves learned that the hard way informed Marcel's had an entire two packs exterminated. And today, the French descendants are oppressed while Salem Casters thrived.

Jasper drove around the French Quarters, where people were preparing for the Casket Girl Festival. The story goes about young society women imported from France with the promise of marrying a proper New Orleans gentleman. Little did they know that the men who awaited them were far from proper, nor gentle… It is unknown what had happened to the young maidens. Their carriages were found surrounded by bodies and brutally murdered men, and the caskets that held their clothing were empty. To this day, The Casket Girls' legend lives on. Now celebrated in New Orleans fashion...with stylish costumes and supernatural flair. It's a yearly reminder of how women can be oppressed by selfish men and how they can triumph when brave enough to fight for themselves.

Ginger sat in the passenger seat, guiding Jasper to Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies at Jackson Avenue in New Orleans' Garden District. Luckily, it's almost nightfall, so Jasper and Alice won't sparkle in the sunlight. I find it strange for a Cold One to sparkle while the Original's bloodline burns in the sunlight unless they have a daylight gem. We soon arrived at the academy, a white antebellum house surrounded by trees drowned in Spanish moss and guarded iron gates.

Miss Robichaux's Academy was founded by Marion Warton in 1868. Yes, Marion Warton, author of children's storybooks. The building was turned into a military hospital in the Civil War, if not as a private school for privileged girls. In 1868, Marion Warton, the Supreme, bought the school and made it an academy for young witches. For the past three decades, the academy was used for late-born witches or those who discovered they were a witch/warlock under poor circumstances. Unlike me, who took the first coming of age trial and was assigned to live and train under my grandfather. There is a significant rift between the aristocrats and the common, yet we are still one as Salem descendants.

Pulling in, everyone got out. Ginger seemed slightly relaxed either from Jasper's ability or being back to her home as she murmured, "Long time traveler."

"Is that a song?" I asked because it sounded familiar.

"Yeah," Ginger said, leading the way to the side door. "Oh, and the butler is mute. So don't get frustrated by his lack of communication."

"Mute?" Alice asked.

"Um…how can I put it?" Ginger replied sheepishly. "His tongue was literally cut off."

I shuddered at the fact of mutilation. The last thing I need is gore added to this scary adventure. Anyway, Ginger rang the doorbell and then stood there calmly with the rest of us. A moment later, the butler answered. He dressed in the traditional uniform attire of a tuxedo that contrasted with his weathered face framed by long, scraggly hair and beard. His fingernails were practically yellowed, almost talon-like.

"Hello Spalding, long time no see." She greeted him happily.

Spalding stared at us for a moment and then nodded, allowing us in. We enter the kitchen, passing the butcher's table as Spalding leads the group to the ancestry room. You be surprised by how white the house is, setting the stage of light. From the white wall, white wood, white tiling, and hints of expensive dark woods trimmed the scenery. Practically where you look is a new vantage point, from large crystal chandeliers, heavy French furniture, and the accessories here and there. But what captures my attention is the grand staircase, a single run dividing into two, almost representing angel wings.

We enter the ancestry room, filled with oil paintings of Supremes throughout the centuries in the New World. Spalding bowed his head, leaving us in the room. Alice and Jasper were amazed at how titanic, if not mystifying, this place was.

"Wow," Alice chimed. "Such a lovely place."

"Thank you," A woman said, walking into the ancestry room. "I'm sure Spalding appreciates the compliment. I'm Cordelia Foxx, the headmistress."

Cordelia Foxx nee Goode, daughter of the Supreme, Fiona Goode. She was in her late twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes. She wore black slacks and a black and white printed blouse. She held a calm, nurturing atmosphere around her… opposite from her mother.

Ginger walked over to her, giving Cordelia a hug. Cordelia returned the gestured with a smile to her once pupil.

"Long time no see," Ginger Said.

"If only the circumstances were different," Cordelia said.

"Yeah," Ginger mumbled, pulling back and rubbing her neck. "Oh, I would like you to meet my friends. Cordelia, this is Eleanor Rivers, my coven sister in Forks."

"Hello," I greeted.

"Hello, I've heard great tales of your family. I'm sorry for your loss," Cordelia said, referring to my grandfather passing.

"Thank you, it's truly appreciated," I replied back.

"And Alice and her boyfriend Jasper," Ginger continued.

"The Cold Ones," Cordelia noted. "Zelena informed me about you two arriving."

Alice nodded while keeping a firm hand over Jasper's arm. He seemed a bit tense with the amount of energy the household had. Either the previous memories from the past or the fragrance of humans with many emotions.

"You are welcome here" Cordelia assured. "I had Spalding fill the fridge with animal blood if it may help. New Orleans right now is at a cross-fire in the French Quarter. Let alone the bayous are in a spiritual festival. Please sit, relax, and enjoy yourselves."

.o0o.

The rest of the evening was spent resting and cleaning up in our rooms. Jasper and Alice shared one chamber while Ginger and I shared another. Four days in a car is not comfortable, only making pit stops to eat, bathrooms, and hotels for five hours of sleep. I took a long bath before changing into comfortable clothes then stared out the lace curtain windows to watch people prepare for the festival or party. I chuckled at the miraculous costumes or accessories people wore to have a good time. Back home in Salem, it's a severe manifestation of elegance and class. Here in New Orleans, it is fun and creative.

How opposite these two magical cities are in the United States. Then again, Salem is run by the majority of Castor/Traditional, while New Orleans is run by the Spiritual Ancestry. Like I said in the beginning, Castor's society is spread out.

"Out of curiosity, why are you witches different from those we met?" Jasper asked.

Cordelia looked up after pouring three cups of tea. "Why do we differentiate from the witches in the French Quarters?"

"Yes," Alice confirmed. "I've crossed paths with one, but she used talismans and books and chanted her spells." She then looked at me. "But Eleanor, you did something to the baseball without chanting a spell."

I chuckled, rubbing my neck from that game, "Well, we Salem Casters come from a minority group in Europe that gets out powers from the fifth element. While most casters get their powers from the elements and spiritual energy, we get our powers from our personal energy and true magic."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked.

"Casters are our Genus. Our species as Traditional are humans gifted with the power to affect change by supernatural and paranormal means." Cordelia explained. "Unlike our counterparts who are more connected to the earth and The Other Side, a dimension where we all go when we die. Our magical abilities that express our powers in the seven wonders or other gifts. Although we have limits and still use spell books. Including a long-life span depends on whether we use it or not."

Our max age is 300, yet there are Casters who are unaware of their ability to activate the semi-immortal life. If a Caster lives too long with average people, and are connected they may choose to live a shorter life of a hundred. Yet it depends on one's resources and how exposed the Caster is. Yet not all Casters have a choice to live a long life. As the Supreme being the vessel for the Seven Wonders, life up to hundred.

"So, we don't experience physical trauma or energy drainage," I added. "Of course, abusing certain spells reduces our aging."

"Another group of Casters who go by the name in general similar to our kind, but with one's ability decides their fate of being dark or light Casters. They decide if they want their magic to be dark or light at a coming of age. However, once they decide, there is no turning back." Cordelia included.

"And there are the Travelers." I finished off. "They are the smallest group of casters who wander around. Their magic is pure magic from the fifth element. Yet they can only perform their magic when in a group or passaging."

"Passaging?" Jasper asked.

"To transfer one's souls into a host," Cordelia answered. "Henceforth their name, they are considered the oldest breed of magical humans than any of us in Europe."

"Why," Ginger said. "I've never thought the Caster society is that big?"

"Well, if there are two types of Vampires, you know, then you would be surprised how every supernatural being has their own ethnic groups. We just apparently have the most." I said. "And that is just the European Casters. There're more types of Casters around the world."

"Anyway, New Orleans is a melting pot of Casters and Vampires. But as long as we Salem Witches don't break the truce, then there will be no problem between Marcel's Coven and the Salem Coven."

Everyone nodded when a sound of a ringtone erupted in the room. Alice and Jasper didn't check if it were their phones, and mine and Gingers were off, so all eyes were on Cordelia. She pulls out her cellphone, checking the screen. "Forgive me, but my husband Hank is calling me."

She then got up and left to answer her call. I sat there watching Jasper and Alice closely. They both sat on the plush couch, keeping close though Jasper seemed less tense than he was at school. Ginger on the chaise, legs tucked together while fidgeting unable to remain still.

"Why hasn't he called yet?" Ginger asked.

"It just means that they don't have anything to tell us," Alice assured.

"We don't know that," Ginger muttered. "Something could've happened to them-"

"Our family is strong. Our only fear is losing you." Jasper interrupted, staring at her calmly.

"But…what if-"

"How long do you think Edward's been alone?" Alice asked. "It's been almost a century. Now he's found you. You can't see the changes that we see, we who have been with him for so long. Do you think any of us want to look into his eyes for the next hundred years if he loses you?"

I sighed, getting up and heading to my room. As much as I care for Ginger, I just have a hard time grasping the relationship between her and Edward. Growing up, I've been told it's too dangerous to affiliate with supernatural creatures that are considered a threat to us and humanity. Even though Edward and his family were once human, their species of vampires are dangerous. In fact, all vampires are dangerous.

And all men are dangerous.

Thanks for reading, and please review!

Updated