Chapter 33

Ottilie was lying on the soft grass next to Greg, looking up at the clear sky, smiling. She was happy, she thought, as she gazed up, relishing feel of the sun on her skin. Greg's parents had invited her over for lunch that weekend, and Damon had dropped her off just a few hours ago. She really liked Greg's parents; his mum was kind and chatty, always filling the awkward silences and putting Ottilie at ease, and his dad, although far quieter than his wife, had a twinkle in his eye and a kind smile that made Ottilie feel safe. She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes as drifting off to the sound of Greg joking about the shapes he could make out of the clouds.

Stefan, Damon and Lexi were sat in the garden, also enjoying the sunshine allowed to them by their trusty daytime rings.

"So, we go today?" asked Stefan, looking at Damon who nodded seriously.

"Yep," replied Damon, popping the 'p'. "Camille told Klaus that Marcel had left New Orleans for one of his trips. So, we go on a little trip to Portland, find this Markian guy that Klaus and Elijah have found, and we ask him a few questions." He smiled, triumphantly, pleased at finally being able to do something proactive, rather than waiting for an attack.

"Shotgun front seat!" shouted Lexi, jumping up and heading to the blue camero. Damon looked over at Stefan and shrugged in mock helplessness as Stefan rolled his eyes, following them.

"Fiineeeee" he grumbled, squeezing into the back seat.

The drive was a couple of hours max, but Stefan was pleased to arrive so that he could stretch his legs. "You need a bigger car," he mumbled to Damon, trying to get the circulation back to his feet.

Damon scowled at him before caressing the shiny bonnet of his car, "Don't listen to him, baby" he cooed, as Stefan scoffed and rolled his eyes at him.

"Are you two going to keep flirting or can we get a move on?" shouted Lexi, already a few paces ahead of them. "I've found the bar that our friend likes to reside in. Let's go!"

The brothers sped to catch up with her, and they walked in silence to the bar, wondering what they'd find. On entering the dingy bar, it took a few seconds for their eyes to ajust to the lack of light, and they gazed around, looking for someone fitting the description Klaus and Elijah had given them.

"There…" whispered Damon, gesturing to a unkempt looking man hunched over an empty beer glass on a small table in the corner. "Unpleasant smell, bad hygiene and cowering out of the sunlight – sounds about right?" The other two nodded, and they made their way cautiously over to the man.

"Can we join you?" asked Lexi brightly, before sitting down on the spare chair on the other side of the table before the man could answer.

"We have some questions for you, Markian" said Stefan, determined to try and get this done in the most efficient, least bloody way possible.

The man looked up at the trio and sneered, revealing black, broken teeth. "You do, do you?" he jeered at them, "and why would I give you any answers?"

Damon smirked at him, "because answers equal less pain," he said, shrugging.

Again, the man scoffed. "I don't fear pain," he replied, "because I don't feel it."

"Who's Marcel?" asked Stefan, getting straight to the point.

The man looked up at him sharply, his beady black eyes boring into Stefan's. "Who's asking?" he replied, quickly.

They were ready for this, and had their answers prepared. "An old friend," replied Damon, smoothly. "Klaus Mikaelson."

For an instant, a flicker of surprise washed over the man's face, before he quickly got a hold of himself and fixed the sneering veneer back. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while," he said, smiling evilly. "Marcel will be pleased to know that his old…friend… is asking after him."

"Where can we find him?" asked Damon harshly, tired now of the word games this man was playing. He could see that they weren't getting anywhere with finding out who Marcel was and why he might want Ottilie.

"Oh I can take you to him, he's here at the moment," replied the man, smiling maliciously at them and running his tongue over his blackened teeth. "I think he'd like to see you. The last I heard, Mr Marcel was intrigued to hear that his old friend Klaus had made acquaintances with a little someone he's… how shall I say… interested in…"

Damon looked away, suddenly feeling sick at the realisation that it was indeed Ottilie that Marcel was after. Who else could it be?

Stefan stood up abruptly, "take us to him," he said firmly, and Markien got up slowly from his seat, and shuffled to the door.

The walk was slow and long, and Damon could feel his patience wearing thinner by the minute. Only the calming hand of Lexi, resting on his arm was keeping him sane. They finally came to an inconspicuous-looking hotel, and Markien led them inside and up two flights of grubby stairs.

"Not exactly the kind of place I imagined this Marcel guy to be residing…" muttered Damon.

"Oh be assured," retorted Markien, "Mr Marcel lives in the greatest luxury. This place is merely for business dealings."

Reaching a red painted door with no number on it, Markien knocked twice, waiting for an invitation to enter. "Yes?" came a voice, and Markien opened the door, gesturing at the trio to follow him.

"Mr Marcel," snivelled Markien, "I've brought you some people who know Klaus Mikaelson. Reckon they might know of the asset you're interested in?"

The man sitting in a comfy, leather-backed armchair looked up sharply at the mention of the asset and glared at Markien, who withered back from him, as if physically stung by the look.

"What have I told you about telling people about the asset, Markien?" hissed Marcel, whose eyes had a menacing glint in them. "The more people who know about the asset, the harder it'll be to get it!" He was shouting now, and walked straight up to Markien, plunged his hand into his chest, and looking him straight in the eye, sneered with contempt, "well, I won't have to tell you again," before pulling his heart right out of his chest cavity, and letting it drop with the body.

The trio tried to contain their shock and stared at Marcel who smiled brightly at them. "Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, a far cry from his tone just seconds before. "So you know my dear friend Klaus," he added, watching as they nodded. "And who are you?"

"Damon Salvatore," replied Damon, confidently.

Marcel's eyes snapped up to look at him. "Are you indeed?" he asked, a crooked smile forming on his face, his eyes flashing. "Well in that case, poor Markien here was probably right to bring you to me. Oh well…" he shrugged, turning away from the body on the floor and beckoning at them to come further into the room, which they did cautiously. "So that'd make you the brother, Stefan?" he guessed, "but I'm afraid I have no inkling as to who you may be, my dear," he said, gesturing at Lexi, and smiling wolfishly at her. "Such a shame…" he added, and Lexi repressed a shudder.

Taking a seat in his chair once more, he surveyed the three vampires stood in front of him. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, immensely enjoying the thinly masked uncertainty on their faces. "I'm Marcel Gerard, I'm the King of New Orleans," he smirked at them. "I believe that you might have something that you want…" he looked at them, studying their faces for any sign that they knew what he was talking about before turning to face the back of the room, looking away from them.

"And what would that be?" asked Damon, trying hard to contain his seething anger, now that he already knew what it was.

"I want the Adfectus Witch," he announced, suddenly spinning around to face them. "And I know you have her. Give her to me."

Damon took a step forward, "what the hell is an Adfectus Witch?" he sneered, trying to through Marcel of track.

Marcel glared at him, "my witches tell me that they sense her power, that they've sensed it for almost a year, and that it's getting stronger. I don't know what she looks like, but I know that you do." He smiled unpleasantly at them.

"What makes you think that?" retorted Stefan.

"The witches in Portland have located the power source to Mystic Falls, the Mikaelsons are mysteriously quiet and haven't left the area in years, and there are stories of a little girl who knows not of the enormity of her abilities. I've been coming to Portland to learn more about her and to organise her… collection… but to no avail. I want her, and you will deliver her to me."

Stefan had had enough. "Why do you want her so much?" he demanded.

Marcel just laughed. "Ah Mr Salvatore, so many questions. That one, I won't give you an answer to."

"And you think we're just going to hand her over to you?" Damon snapped, losing his cool.

Marcel's face suddenly went cold, and his eyes glinted dangerously. "No, I don't think you will. Maybe I should give you some incentive to show you just how serious I am about getting her."

He suddenly sped over to Lexi and sank his fangs into her arm, letting her fall to the ground as her legs gave way and she screamed in pain before he sped back to his chair, quicker than the Salvatores could blink.

They were over by Lexi's side quickly, helping her up and assessing the damage. "What the…" muttered Damon, looking at the gaping wound in Lexi's arm and seeing the black veins travelling steadily out of it.

"Oh I'm sorry," mocked Marcel, sitting in his chair with his legs crossed and his hands together. "Did I forget to mention? I'm what you'd call, an Upgraded Original Vampire. That…" he indicated at Lexi's arm, "is going to hurt. In fact, it will kill her in about 8 hours. So I'd get her home to say your goodbyes."

The brothers, supporting Lexi, made to leave the room before Marcel directed one more sentence at them. "Oh, and I will do that to everyone you've ever cared about if you don't bring her to me…"

Descending the stairs, Lexi suddenly lost consciousness and Damon had to quickly grab her and haul her into his arms before she fell down the remained of the steps. "Lexi…" he whispered, noticing in horror the sheen of sweat coating her forehead, and the uncontrollable shaking wracking through her body. He sped off out of the hotel to the car, Stefan hot on his heels.

Stefan got into the car and Damon posted Lexi into the back with him, making sure that her head was resting comfortably on his brothers lap. "Hold on, Lexi," he heard Stefan whisper through gritted teeth.

"What do we do?" he asked Damon, desperately as he went to start the car.

"We need to go to Klaus," said Damon. "He knows Marcel better than anyone, and it looks a little like a werewolf bite – maybe his blood will be able to heal her?"

Stefan just nodded, staring down at the pale face of his best friend.