.

Chapter 13

the devil you don't

Knowledge forbidden?
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord
Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know?
Can it be death?
-John Milton

Bonnie fell to her hands and knees onto hard stone. She was now severely magically and emotionally exhausted. She just wanted to curl up in front of a large fire with a cup of hot chocolate and forget everything.

Unfortunately, no fire burned in the room she found herself in. A string of lines, harsh and unforgiving compared to the dancing flames she'd long grown used to, coldly lit the stone chamber.

"Hello there." Bonnie whipped her head up, looking into the eyes of the man crouching next to her. He wore a light grey three-piece suit carelessly. It was expertly tailored yet rumpled. His cheekbones caught the light when he tilted his head, studying her like a bug under a microscope. His accent was British, but wrong. It was too careful, especially when compared to his suit. Bonnie didn't bother answering. He didn't want a conversation. Powerful men never did.

Bonnie broke eye contact and took in the room more fully. The room was circular. Roughhewn stone made up the floor and the rounded walls. Surrounding Bonnie and the crouching man were a number of bodies. A few, Bonnie saw, were still twitching, dying in front of her from the deep slashes across their throats.

Bonnie made an abortive attempt to reach the person closest to her, an old woman whose extended arm was only feet from the witch, but her body was stopped before she made it an inch. The besuited man had clamped a hand around her shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Now, if I didn't know any better, I might think my little ritualistic sacrifice summoned you." Bonnie had started when she touched Stefan for the first time, and it had taken a while for her to get used to the shadowy psychic imprint of Damon. This man's touch was something else. His soul was twisted up in itself and drenched in centuries of blood. Bonnie now knew for certain that he was a vampire, and she threw an aneurism his way. He didn't even blink.

"Ah, ah, ah. No need for any unfriendly brain tickles. But that certainly answers the question of what you are. But how did you get here?" He asked. His face hadn't lost its friendliness, but that didn't set Bonnie at ease. He was stronger than anything she'd ever even read about, let alone faced. What could she do but answer?

"I don't know, I don't even know where here is." He leaned in even closer, his nose almost brushing hers.

"Hmm. At least half of that was true." He withdrew so fast there wasn't even a blur. One moment he was crouching next to her, and the next he was standing across the room. He turned to his right. "Any ideas Analise?" Bonnie blinked at his sudden distance, and cautiously began to straighten into a kneel. She could now see the only other living being in the room. Another witch, maybe ten years older than her in appearance, with shockingly white hair.

"It should have worked, please I thought it would work." It was apparent that the woman had already been crying for some time, but now tears poured down her face. A book, a grimoire fell from her hands as she clasped them together, shaking them in front of her as if praying. Not to God, but to this man. "Please, I've sacrificed everything. My family, my coven, it has to have worked!"

"Shh, shh, shh. There, there. I know you did." He stroked a hand down her hair in comfort.

Bonnie slowly stood to her full height, assessing her options. Having her feet under her again gave her more confidence, but not much. She could taste the ozone of spent magic in the air. It wasn't just the magic of one witch, even one at the height of their power. She remembered the pages in her grimoire that Emily had tried to gloss over. Passages about the transfer of power, willing and unwilling, between witches. These people had died to give Analise the power for something. And even with the power of a more than a dozen dead and dying witches at her back, it was clear Analise had not succeeded.

Bonnie looked directly up, but even craning her neck, she couldn't see the ceiling, just a spiral of shining lights, growing smaller and smaller. A set of stairs started at one end of the room, and extended up and into the darkness. Were they at the bottom of some kind of well?

"Please Klaus, I can try again, maybe if we find the moonstone! With that, we—"

"I think you know it's too late for that, dear." Klaus spoke as if he were addressing a small child. Calm in the face of an illogical tantrum.

"No! Plea—" Analise turned away from his comforting arm, as if to make for the stairs, but Klaus grabbed her by the back of the neck. No, Bonnie saw, by the spine. In a second he had ripped it from her body and tossed it aside. He caught her torn open body in his arms, and bit into her neck, drinking deeply.

Bonnie wasn't waiting around to see more. She ran for the stairs and started up them two at a time. She looked back once, to see that he wasn't following her, but she didn't slow. Bonnie still couldn't see the top, and the stairs continued to spiral upwards. She was out of breath, but her adrenaline kept her body moving.

She glanced down, back into the room, but she could no longer see the vampire. The white of Analise's splayed hair was glowed against the stone floors where she now lay, open and alone. Where was Klaus?

"Sorry about the delay, but witch blood just has that extra zest to it. And you are almost never inclined to give it up freely, so I can't let it go to waste while it's fresh."

Bonnie froze in terror. He was poised on the step two above her, hand extended like a courtly lord. His suit, previously disheveled, was now covered in blood. The blood looked more at home on his skin than the suit did.

"Come now, you can see that you've made hardly any progress on your own, and you won't be leaving here without me, so we might as well set aside this dreadful unpleasantness and get on with it." The vampires said. Bonnie felt choked with fear. She couldn't help it, Klaus wore it like a cloak, a miasma of terror.

She took his hand, and he hooked her arm around his.

"Now that's better. Now let's go, the ice boys will be down here soon to keep them fresh, and the stairs are already narrow for just us two." Bonnie blinked her eyes and they were at the top of the stairs, the room they'd come from a distant disk of light beneath them. It was not like running with Damon when he was in transition, or even the leap she'd taken with Stefan when he had one hundred and sixty years behind him. This was beyond fast. They'd made it up the stairs instantly.

"I'm guessing your little ritual didn't work then? Shame." Came a voice from ahead of them.

A beautiful blonde woman with a nasty look on her face stood in the center of the opulent room. She wore a slim cut dress with huge puffed sleeves. Like Klaus, she spoke in a clipped British accent.

"Not now, Rebekah. Your brother has business to attend to." The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Oh how I pity you, cursed to live as only one of the most powerful beings in the world." Rebekah commented drolly, "Try not to kill this one too quickly, I'm off to look at boats and feel nostalgic." Rebakah swiftly exited to the room, leaving Bonnie alone with Klaus once more. She didn't know if she should be disappointed or relieved.

"Don't mind her. Turns out her most recent infatuation is married twice over. And a serial murderer, but she's more miffed about the bigamy." He poured himself a glass from a crystal decanter. Bonnie wondered if all vampires took the same intro to aesthetics lesson after they turned.

He took a seat on one of the crushed velvet couches, and gestured for Bonnie to do the same. She sat as far away from him as possible, on a spindly chintz chair at the edge of the seating arrangement. It might have been the familiar glass of whisky, but Bonnie felt her terror easing. Has she imagined the visceral dread that surrounded Klaus? Or could he just switch it on and off as he pleased?

"But back to business, you are something of an enigma. That was not a summoning ritual, for a witch or anything else. But somehow, as our dearly departed Analise was crying over her dead brethren and her own failure, and I was just giving up hope of an interesting decade, you," He snapped his fingers and the sound cracked sharply through the air, "appeared before my very eyes. Smelling of death, and grief, and magic."

He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. Bonnie wrung her hands, hoping that her luck would come through for once and take her away from this place immediately.

"How would you explain that?" Klaus said. He hadn't asked for her input the entire time, so Bonnie was a bit surprised he was looking for answers from her. She'd thought he would monologue on his hypothesis until he felt like killing her.

"I told you, I don't know." Bonnie answered.

"And I told you I didn't believe you. Try again." He insisted. Bonnie really didn't know how to explain the spell, and she also didn't want a vampire this powerful to find out that time travel was possible. Maybe she could provide him answers to some other puzzle, and he would be distracted?

"What was the ritual for?" Bonnie asked as she tried to visualize what symbols she'd seen on the floor. Unfortunately, most of the runes had been at least partially covered by blood or the bodies of the witches killed to power them. She remembered the rune for lock, for power, and the ragged strokes of one that indicated vampires. Klaus had been standing on top of the rune for union. Emily had that rune carved on her wedding band, more binding than the human laws that kept her from her husband, and Bonnie knew its curves well. She remembered how Emily had taken it off each time she went to spy on Jonathan Gilbert.

Bonnie doubted that it had anything to do with marriage for Klaus.

"And why would I tell you that?"

"Neither of us know how exactly I got into your…basement," Not a lie, Bonnie's knowledge of the spell was woefully inadequate for someone who was using it to pull her through decades of time. She really needed to do more than skim the magical theory books once she got back home. "But if we share what we know, maybe we could figure it out. I was in South Dakota before I showed up here. And I'd like to get back home as soon as possible." Klaus studied her over the rim of his tumbler, weighing her statements and heartbeat.

"Okay, I'll bite." He winked at his pun. His moods were more mercurial than Damon's, and more frightening. "I'm trying to break a curse."

"What kind of curse?" She pressed.

The runes flashed before Bonnie's eyes again. And the drained and dead witches followed them. A spell for union. Could he have been trying to gain the power of the coven, to wield magic as well as immortality? Was that even possible? But why would he be bringing up a curse now?

"An old and big one, cast by an Aztec shaman. It's what causes vampires to burn in the sun, and werewolves to be reliant on the moon." That didn't exactly fit with what Bonnie had seen, but a lot of the runes had been hidden or covered. Bonnie didn't have any idea what the symbol for werewolves would be, but she had seen the one for vampires.

Also an Aztec shaman cursing them just didn't seem right. When were the Aztecs even around? Bonnie really wished she had Stefan's head for dates.

"And Analise was trying to help you break it? Why?" Bonnie asked. She knew history would never be her forte, so focusing on the witch aspect seemed to be her best bet. If witches were interested in breaking the spell, maybe there was more to it than a curse on the two types of supernatural monsters.

"Money, power, glory, fear. The usual motivations for humans." Or maybe witches were as motivated by greed as ordinary people were. Back to history.

"Was the curse pre-European contact? I've been wondering if vampirism was in the Americas or Europe before Columbus sailed, or if it was already on both continents before that—" Bonnie rambled before Klaus cut her off. The Columbian exchange was one of the only things she remembered from history class, and that was mostly because they'd had a project to make a meal using food from only one side of the exchange. Luckily, Caroline had been her partner, and she'd gotten full credit for a barley bread she hadn't ever touched.

"Columbus was hardly the first European to land on American shores; things aren't so neat as the history books or this silly fair make it out to be. But none of that matters. It was the attempted breaking, not the making, of the curse that brought you here." He was pretty blasé about the origins of a curse he'd been trying to break. Then again, it could hardly be that important to him. She could feel the trace of magic around the ring on his finger. He was a daywalker, and so was his sister. They were already safe from the sun. Maybe breaking this curse was just a hobby he got obsessive about in his old age.

"The making and breaking of curses are nearly always one in the same." Bonnie thought of the crystal and bloodstone, both intrinsic pieces of the binding on the Fell's Church tomb, and how it broke her grandmother to remove that spell without them. And this curse, over two species of beings that had lasted for centuries, would be much, much more powerful. "Is there anything from the original ritual you know of? Maybe a stone or—?" Her words were cut off by his vice grip around her neck. She gasped for air but could barely inhale through the restriction.

"Now I know where I know you from. You're the witch that got away from me all those years ago. I made sure one of them was burned at the stake for helping Katerina, but you got away. Tell me, are you a Bennett too? No one seemed to know where you'd come from. A habit of yours it seems." Bonnie didn't know what he was talking about. Who was Katerina?

"Hmm, you're awfully well preserved for a fifty-year-old, even for a witch, were you hoping to make it to the next comet pass?" He drew her in closer. "You won't. Not as a witch. I can turn you right now, and we can wait together. Because you should know, witch, I'll be waiting at that tomb a century from now. And when that pathetic Salvatore finally has it cracked open I will kill Katerina Petrova myself. And this time, the doppelganger will not wake up. Now, how does a little blood sound?" Bonnie shook her head desperately. Once he'd mentioned the comet and tomb, she understood he must be talking about Mystic Falls. Katerina Petrova must be Katherine. Only she could provoke such visceral emotion in vampires.

Emily had burned at the stake for helping Katherine. Bonnie had feared as much, after her ancestor's goodbye, but to have it confirmed this way was terrible. Bonnie could only picture Ruthie's face, the last time she had seen Emily's daughter. Bonnie had assured the little girl that she and her mother would handle any flames, that Ruthie didn't have to worry about them. But Emily didn't even use magic to snuff out her candles, and Bonnie had already been gone.

He hadn't made a move to open one of his veins yet, but he was hardly predictable. And she didn't want to become a vampire. Especially not now, like this. The puzzle pieces coming together were overshadowed by Bonnie's fear of his strength. She could only imagine what had happened to Emily and it was because of this monster.

"No!" She bucked against his grip, felt the friction burn from his unyielding palm against her neck. She would not feed or be fed on by a vampire against her will, not ever again. "No!" She didn't try to do any delicate work, popping blood vessels in his brain had been completely ineffective. Instead she pushed. The sliver of air between her neck and his hand solidified in her mind, and she pushed with everything she had.

Klaus's hand snapped away from her throat. His wrist and fingers were all bent backwards. Bonnie didn't stop to admire her work, she continued pushing, throwing him bodily away from her. He hit the couch he'd previously sat on, snapping it in half, but was already standing before Bonnie could take another breath. Her plan to blast him back with a ball of fire was interrupted by the entrance of yet another vampire.

"Klaus, must you always be so uncivilized? There are fewer and fewer witches in Chicago willing to work for us. We can't be so rude to the ones we mean to keep alive." The man who spoke seemed the opposite of Klaus in every way. His dark suit and hair were both perfectly in place.

"And why would I keep this one alive? She's just hardly worth the effort it would take to kill her."

"Yet you haven't killed her, despite your injuries brother. I assumed that was for a reason."

"She's a curiosity. A four-leaf clover, a stone skipped seven times, a black cat in my path, but nothing important"

"Three superstitions for one witch, Klaus? You've tipped your hand. Who is she?"

"If you must know, she's an associate of our runaway. I didn't notice at first, but look at her, Elijah. Doesn't she match the daguerreotype perfectly? She's Katerina's other little witch friend." The new arrival's eyes flashed at Katerina's name. In anger? Or something else? Bonnie almost groaned aloud, had Katherine been entangled with another pair of brothers? Ones that were even older and more powerful? And now Bonnie had to deal with the fall out. Typical.

"Even more reason to keep her alive, as I have questions about events during my…indisposition." Klaus, so set on killing her a minute ago, just shrugged and went to pour himself another glass of liquor.

"Alright, alright. But keep a tight hold on that one; she's slippery." His back was turned to them, and Elijah brandished the cane he was holding, indicating she should step out the door to his right. Considering the only other door was the one Bonnie came through, from the underground ritual silo, she didn't protest.

"Please excuse my brother, his passions tend to run high when he lingers on certain subjects."

"And Katherine is one of those?" A flicker of confusion passed across his face before it smoothed once more.

"Yes, you must have known her as Katherine Pierce. I have heard of her exploits in Virginia. And I'd very much like—" He cut himself off, hesitating. Klaus could still hear their conversation. "to discuss them with you. But first, you must refresh yourself. I am sure my sister won't begrudge you one frock. She has lost many of her own to stubborn bloodstains after all."

He led her to a room that seemed barely touched, but it had multiple wardrobes bursting with dresses.

"I'll send a servant up to help with your hair. Please, help yourself to a change of clothes. Rebekah won't notice." He shut the door behind him as he left, secure in his own power and her helplessness.

Bonnie tore through the closet, picking out dresses that seemed the most durable. She skipped the bright yellows and reds; she'd rather not use anything so eye-catching.

When Elijah had been gone for half an hour and no compelled servant appeared, Bonnie felt more confident in her project. These vampires were far older than any she encountered, and Bonnie thought they might have a different perception of time. Maybe it would take them days to remember the witch they had locked in an upstairs bedroom. Or maybe they would be back in minutes. Bonnie wasn't waiting to find out.

Elijah had hinted that they were in Chicago, but it looked nothing like the windy city she'd seen on television. Instead, it reminded her of Washington D.C. There were a number of bright white buildings, all lit up, with columns and domes. In the far distance, she could just make out the slow revolutions of a Ferris wheel. Maybe she could sneak a ride on it after she escaped. Seeing the city from that height would be a memory to balance out the horrible tableau she'd arrived to.

With minimal tearing, a series of haphazard knots, and some liberally placed sticking spells, Bonnie had created a rope from Rebekah's dresses. Much to her frustration, she still hadn't found any pants. Pushing her frustration at the blonde's fashion sense aside, Bonnie found the most simple dress of the bunch and laid it out on the bunch. Tearing off her own underskirts and the supporting structure was a relief, but she couldn't reach the back buttons, let alone the underlying ties of her stay.

Bonnie looked longingly at the new dress. It didn't look comfortable, not compared to any lounge wear she had back home, but it was at least clean. She'd been wearing her current dress for days, and she wanted out. She'd just have to cut herself out of it or, if there was no knife to be found, burn it off.

Bonnie had only searched the first armoire when she heard the steps coming down the hall. They were too heavy to belong to a vampire. Maybe the servant Elijah had promised? Probably a human, and not a threat, but they could easily call for help. Bonnie had seen how fast these vampires moved. They would be at her door after the first syllable left the servant's mouth. She'd have to go now.

Bonnie threw one last glance at the clean and waiting dress on the bed, but clean clothes weren't worth imprisonment or death. She went for the window. Luckily, it wasn't painted shut, and she easily undid the latch.

She'd just climbed onto the ledge when she heard the first light knock on the door to the room. How polite, knocking at her prison cell as if she were a guest. Bonnie looked down.

She couldn't detect any magic keeping her bound to the room or the building, but she found it hard to believe that the vampires were relying completely on her fear to keep her caged. Bonnie's fear was telling her that staying with these men was the last thing she wanted to do. Their stories didn't add up, and their disregard for the lives of witches was disturbing. She couldn't be the next Analise.

She'd abandoned her skirts and stockings when she thought she was going to change. But Bonnie didn't have time to consider the delicate sensibilities of the people below her on the street. Surely they'd be distracted by her climbing down the side of the building and wouldn't notice her near complete lack of underthings.

She gripped the end of her makeshift rope, hoping that the bed would be heavy enough to provide a counterweight as there was nothing else to tie the other end to in the room.

Down on the street, a man tossed his bowler hat away. Bonnie couldn't make out his face, to tell if the toss was in anger or celebration, but the inky black color of his hair was familiar, even without its old curls. Bonnie's pulse calmed. She now knew someone in the city and would not have to struggle through this time alone. He wouldn't be able to fight Klaus, Elijah, or Rebekah, but he would help her run.

"Damon!" He turned, and she pushed off from her seat at the ledge of the window. She'd barely rappelled down a single story when she felt it: the stripping away of magic, of her sticking charms and her protection spells. Her rope would not hold, and when she hit the ground her bones would break horribly. They'd set up a barrier, not to hold her in, but to eliminate any magical tools she might use to escape.

Maybe it was shock, or fear at her impending impact, or maybe the barrier that stripped the rope of her spells also stripped away the tether holding her to this time, or maybe it was all three, or even something else entirely. It didn't matter. One rope split apart and another one frayed and snapped.

She had just a glimpse of Damon's confused face before her vision went black.

Author's Note: To the readers begging me to let Bonnie change her clothes: Thank you for your reviews. Next time, I promise.