Author's Note: Again, sorry I missed my regular posting schedule last week! I am back and ready to resume telling my little tale. I hope you all enjoy and if you do, I would love feedback. It makes me smile!
Part Seven: a little magic as backup
By the next morning calm has settled over the Abattoir.
Or more accurately, whatever brand of calm existed in the Mikaelson home before Lavinia sent her warning has returned.
Klaus has spent the night where he spends most, curled against the side of Hope's bed. She is still sleeping as he wakes and he smiles at the sight. He cannot resist leaning over to drop a kiss to her temple. In all reality, he will see her very little today. He has promised to keep the fight away from her. He will be Bonnie's shadow instead.
He visits his room to shower and change. As he brushes his fingers through his hair to shake the water free he listens. The sound from Rebekah's room is consistent: a steady heartbeat, an even intake of breath. He bristles a little, wanting to storm in and wake her. He is eager for victory - eager for what will come after (and in truth, he wants it all to happen on his timeline).
In the end, he leaves Bonnie resting. Partly because he finds Elijah deep in conversation with Desmond. The young vampire looks out of his element, tucked in a corner to avoid the morning sun. Klaus raises a brow before he descends into the courtyard. His shoe grinds against a missed piece of glass and he grimaces. He will have to see to it that this entire place is gone over once more.
"Up past your bedtime, are we?" He asks with a slight curve to his mouth. Desmond shifts from one foot to the other, pressing against the wall in response.
"Your associate was just telling me that he has found a lead on another one of our missing objects," Elijah tells his brother. "Unfortunately it is not one that poses any real threat but we will take what we can get."
Klaus nods his head in agreement. The sooner the collection is complete and under this roof the better. He turns his attention back to Desmond. "And you came here to tell us. Right away. At risk to your personal safety. You must really want that daylight ring," Klaus concludes.
Something (defiance perhaps) flickers in Desmond's eyes but when he speaks, he only attends to the matter at hand. "From what I have been told, this guy doesn't hold onto things for very long. He's a fan of selling them to the highest bidder. If I had waited until tonight, it might have been in the wind."
Elijah gives Klaus a pointed look. "I realize that you are busy with other matters at the moment. I can take charge of this one," he assures his brother.
"You'll do no such thing," Klaus counters immediately. This task, much like his current project, is for him alone. "I made a promise to undo a wrong - I will see it through." He says it with a firm even tone. No hint of emotion. Not surprisingly, Elijah knows better than to argue with it. "Besides, I will take Bonnie with me. That gets us away from here should any other creepy crawlies decide to attack. A win-win for all. Now be a good lad, Desmond, and give me the proper details."
Once he has all the information he needs, Klaus turns to move away, leaving Desmond to lurch after him in expectation. Thankfully, Elijah is there to place a hand on his shoulder, a subtle reminder of the sun's rays. Klaus is left to look over his shoulder, realizing he has forgotten to reward Desmond for his good behavior. "Ah yes," he says. "I can't leave you skulking in the corner now can I? My brother will see that you find a darkened space to spend the remainder of the day in." He takes a few more steps and then turns once more. "Oh, and Desmond, don't make a habit of showing up like this. We are not running a boarding house."
Once again, Elijah pins Klaus with a darkened look.
Klaus merely smiles, and is on his way. He is not surprised when Freya simply appears, as if she has tucked herself away in some crack of this place waiting for him. "Sister."
Her eyes trail past him to Desmond, who under Elijah's guidance, is inching his way towards the safety of a closet. "I should make him a daylight ring out of sheer spite," she tells Klaus as she looks back at him. One arm crosses over another as if she is daring him to forbid it. "You need to treat him better. He is not your servant."
"No, he is not. He is my protege," he says (although the word sounds hollow in his mouth; a parody of the true meaning he had once bestowed to it). "Therefore he has to learn that nothing in this world will come easy to him."
Freya's mouth tightens but it appears it is not a fight she wishes to engage in at the moment. Instead she steps closer. " - these things, the disciples of Lavinia or whatever we should call them...they are strong, Klaus. Lavinia has been cultivating the magic of witches for who knows how long. Please take them seriously."
Klaus furrows his brows together. "Am I to take it that you are worried about my well being?"
"Yes," she answers immediately. Firmly. "I may not have known you the longest, but I know how you think. Your arrogance may blind your judgment."
"What a wonderful way to both tell me you care and insult me simultaneously," Klaus retorts. He begins to move forward but Freya steps into his path. " - look, I will take your words to heart. It would be foolish of me to ignore the reality of the situation." After all, anything that has Bonnie Bennett running to him of all people needs to be taken seriously.
"Thank you." She bows her head a little but it is clear that she is not done speaking. "Elijah has told me what you have bargained for with Bonnie…"
"No, he has not," Klaus counters. "Because I have not told him. At least not the ins and outs of it."
She gives him a look (he is tired of being on the receiving end of such looks from his siblings; it is still early morning after all). "He is good at reading between the lines," she reminds him. She appears to be chewing on her bottom lip before she takes another step closer. Her hand moves out to touch his chest. Surprisingly he does not flinch at the contact. "Please, Klaus, do not do that. You will come to regret it."
There is a knee jerk reaction in him. He wants to cry out that it will be just the opposite. Instead he reaches up to move her hand away. "Hope is getting anxious to practice magic once more. Will you teach her a spell today? Something simple of course."
Freya steps back. "Of course."
With no more siblings left to ambush him, he moves towards the closed door. Unceremoniously, he beats his fist off the wood. "Rise and shine, little witch. We have things to do."
X
Bonnie emerges nine minutes later, wearing new clothes (and of course, her necklace, which she fiddles with as she looks at him). "I thought you were nocturnal," she tells him, realizing she sounds as groggy as she feels. She might be taking steps to reclaim her life but apparently her sleeping patterns haven't quite got the message yet.
"A dog joke," Klaus drawls. "Cute."
"A vampire joke. But it works either way, I suppose," Bonnie fires back. She can't resist stretching out her arms and arching her back in an attempt to shake off the rest of her exhaustion. "Seriously, where are we going?"
Klaus is already moving with purpose towards the entrance of the Abattoir. She is left to scramble after him. "I have to retrieve something from a thief. Seeing is how you are the target of a psychotic woman's wrath, I figure it is best that you come with. I cannot kill the big bad witch if you're here and I am out there, now can I?" He glances her way just in time to catch the look that crosses her face. "Oh, do not look so wounded. You are not completely useless in this scenario - it is always good to have a little magic as backup."
Partners in crime, she thinks. It doesn't exactly have a nice ring to it. Still, she knows he has a point. Lavinia is coming straight for her - avoiding one another will not lead to the desired
outcome. That means she will have the pleasure of his company for the foreseeable future.
(which really will be a test of resolve for the both of them)
X
He tells her the specifics of what he is looking for as soon as they are away from the Abattoir. Bonnie listens to the description with a critical ear, raising a brow as he lapses into silence. She thinks he steals a glance in her direction, daring her to say what is on her mind.
So she does.
"That's a dark object," she concludes. Low level by the sounds of it but still - a dark object. "Why are you chasing down one of those, Klaus?" The idea leaves her wary. He already has amassed his own form of power. Is he robbing more from the witches of this city on top of it?
He hums something akin to laughter. "The look on your face says it all, little witch. I had forgotten how easily you give yourself away," he says.
Bonnie tenses automatically, annoyed at his words. She likes to think that she has come a long way from the naive witch who had stood toe to toe with him in the halls of Mystic Falls High. Apparently, in some respects, she is still much the same. Then she curses herself because once more she has proved him right, bristling under one offhand statement. She is better off focusing on the business at hand. "I asked you a question."
Klaus nods his head. "That you did. I assure you that whatever your mind has cooked up for an answer, the reality is far less sinister. This particular object belonged to someone I knew. I am merely returning it to its rightful place."
She runs the answer through her mind (while actively trying to keep her face passive; she swears she sees him quirk the corners of his mouth up at her effort). "In exchange for what?"
"Excuse me?"
"What are you getting in return?" She repeats. "Because I know you don't do anything out of the goodness of your heart." Her current situation is proof positive of that. She is looking straight ahead now, holding tightly to the idea of remaining unreadable to him. In doing so, she misses the stark look that crosses his face (in those precious few seconds he is vulnerable).
When he speaks, it is controlled. "Maybe I just want to hoard it and anything like it. We both know I do not share either." The clipped nature of his voice pulls her attention back to him. He gives her a sort of mental shrug and then quickens his pace, leaving her to work harder to keep up.
She has offended him. Good. If she is supposed to feel guilty, she doesn't. She can't when it comes to him. In the grand scheme of things, the scales have always been tipped more heavily in his favor. If she is evening the ground somehow, she won't second guess it.
However, if she expects him to stay silent she has overestimated her ability to cut him deep.
One moment he is brooding, a black cloud planted firmly over his head. Then he is turning the corner and breaking out into a smile. She is still on his heels as he sweeps out a hand. She follows the line it creates and cannot not miss what he is pointing to: Marie Leveau's House of Voodoo. It stands out among the Creole townhouses that populate the French Quarter: a simple one story cottage. She knows better than to take it for the real thing. She is willing to be the aged dilapidated look has been carefully manufactured.
"What do you know of Marie Leveau?" He asks as they stroll past. Already there is a line up of tourists, eager to pretend that they have received some sign from a powerful voodoo queen.
"That she held court in her house and danced in the Bayou," Bonnie says offhandedly. She feels like she should know more, or at least more than him. She can tell by the twitch of his mouth that he is waiting to spill all of his knowledge at her feet. "And I know she wouldn't have tangled herself up with the likes of you."
He raises a brow and then chuckles quietly. "- you're not entirely wrong in that regard," he confirms. "She had little use for me."
Bonnie shakes her head. "I knew this was going to turn into some sort of humble brag. Oh, I knew Marie Leveau, one of the greatest conjurers in history." She does a piss poor job of imitating his accent (on purpose).
He doesn't seem to care, pushing forward with whatever train of thought had brought him to this conversation in the first place. "She was amazing - but legends are always different than reality. Take me for instance," he says with flourish and grins when she rolls her eyes automatically in return. "In her case, so many details of her life are forgotten or twisted together improperly. It is a shame really how people only want to see one thing - and in doing so they are missing out on so much more."
Damn, he's got her now. He probably knows it too. Bonnie takes a deep breath, hating that he has so easily snared her on his web. But then again she reasons that she has never had a formal education in witchcraft (her mother left, her grandmother died). She has learned things piecemeal and on her own. She takes what she can get (and reminds herself to view his words with a grain of salt). "Like what?" She glances back now, noting the line to enter the cottage was finally moving. "What do they miss?"
"Just how clever she was," he answers immediately. "Everyone is so quick to praise her as some sort of mystical being but she was practical. She used everything to her advantage - for instance, did you know that she did hair to earn money?"
Bonnie can only shake her head.
"Her clientele was made up mostly of the servants of the same elite who came knocking at her door, begging her for some insight into their lives," Klaus tells her before he gives her a knowing look.
"And she used whatever knowledge she had learned from their servants to ensure she got it just right," Bonnie concludes. "Gossiping with your hairdresser is tradition after all." He is right. Marie does sound clever. Given the time she lived in, she would have to be - no doubt she had people from various sides wanting nothing less than her complete downfall. Still, she can't stop herself from sighing a little.
"What?"
Apparently she is back to giving herself away easily. She may as well embrace it fully at this moment. " - it's just," she wonders how to say it properly. "It feels like you have taken some of the mysticism out of her somehow. There are figures that are revered in the witch community…"
"I did no such thing," he corrects. "I merely pointed out her practicality, a skill that has been lost in translation it seems. Trust me when I say that she was in touch with the spirits. She knew things even the most dedicated of servants would not. She just wasn't above using whatever she could. I admire that line of thinking."
He probably does, Bonnie agrees. But he cannot know just what it felt like for Marie - trying to etch out her own corner of the world in a city where most would reject her for simply being who she was. In spite of whatever version of outcast he wants to paint himself as, Klaus had been one of the elite he spoke of. His view of Marie, her motivations - they would be obscured by that lens.
They walk in silence for a beat or two. Then he turns to her once more. "And she didn't dance in the Bayou by the way…"
Bonnie groans. "Of course, you'll obliterate that image too." She likes that one. She understands it. There have been moments where she has been so full of magic that she can do nothing more than throw her head back and let it control the way she moves.
"That was her daughter," Klaus continues. "Also named Marie. An easy mistake. But Marie the elder was more reserved. Marie the second - she had a touch of wildness about her."
"And she still wouldn't give you the time of day," Bonnie shoots out, wanting it to be true.
He gives her a smirk and she is left wondering if she is right or if there is a story there.
Either way, she contemplates just how others will remember her when she is gone. She is under no illusions - no one tells ghost stories anymore. At least not with any reverence. It is a form of entertainment now, just like that overcrowded cottage a block behind them. All her deeds (whether good, bad or misguided) may not be sorted enough to even merit being written down. A hundred years from now, no one may know that Bonnie Bennett has even existed.
It is a sobering thought in some ways.
X
Desmond's directions have been precise - this so called dealer of the black arts has holed himself away in a dive bar off the French Quarter. Klaus curls his lips at the sight of it. It is not a place he wishes to associate himself with. Beside him, he can see that Bonnie has a similar look on his face. He watches as she sidesteps the remnants of someone else's lunch before she tilts her head to take in the worn facade of the bar. "Yes," he concludes. "New Orleans loses a bit of its shine when you wander away from the history of it." He says it as if he knows just what is going through her head. The look she gives him makes him second guess that - but of course he does not admit defeat aloud.
"You should let me try first," she finally says. He raises a brow and she merely shrugs. "When you're involved, things tend to end bloody."
Of course they do. He thrives in those moments. Especially now. He has spent the better part of the last year waiting for chances just like this. He is being watched from all sides by those who care for him (or claim to care for him) - at least in this dingy bar he can tear things apart and point to a cause. It is not that he does not believe in retrieving the item (he does wholeheartedly). He is just not above using it for another purpose as well.
However, he has to admit that he is intrigued by her offer. He mulls it over and decides that he is, in fact, intrigued enough to take her up on it. He tilts his head a little and then throws a hand forward, indicating that she is more than welcome to try first.
She gives him a curious look, no doubt questioning his motivation. But then she's stepping through the door and leaving him standing on the sidewalk. He waits a few beats, listening to the hum of voices from inside. As soon as he has gotten his ear tuned to just the right one, he follows.
Of course, not so closely as for anyone to assume they are together.
Instead, Klaus moves to the left where she has gone right. He blends into the dark corners of the bar, wrinkling his nose at the mixture of stale beer and body odor he finds there (it is a good thing he had insisted on doing this; Elijah would never be caught dead here). With his back to the bar, he settles in. Listening all the while.
"Whiskey," she says and he nearly snorts at that. He can't picture the little witch drinking anything but those sickly sweet wine coolers that leave you with a headache in the morning. He hears the telltale sound of a glass being set in front of her. He leans back just a little, eager to know what follows. She must be powering through because he swears he can hear her disgust before the glass clatters back on the bartop. There is a moment where the conversations around him become louder than anything she does. Then she speaks again. "I heard you're someone special, someone worth knowing…"
Klaus raises an eyebrow. Catching more flies with honey it seems. He settles in his seat, eyes tracing over the faded photos on the wall. Perhaps at one point this place had been something but as he takes in what remains of that grandeur he envisions setting the place on fire (but first, he has to let her try).
"Oh yeah, and just who told you that?" This vampire (what did Desmond call him again - Ambrose?) is a native to New Orleans. Klaus can hear the traces of Cajun in his voice. Young then. Foolish too.
"A witch who heard it from a witch," Bonnie answers. There is a playful element in her voice - something Klaus has never heard before. "Does it matter in the end? You have something I want - and when I want something, I try my hardest to get it."
A snort (the sound is jarring to Klaus considering what has preceded it). "You and everyone else."
"That's right," Bonnie continues. "You're not about effort. You're about profit. I can respect that. Which is why I came prepared."
"Did you now?"
Klaus suddenly wishes he hadn't placed himself back to. Relying solely on his hearing, he is left to envision just what is going on behind him. He has a feeling Ambrose has practically draped himself across the bartop in hopes of what? Intimidating Bonnie? Something more lascivious?
"I wouldn't have said it otherwise." She's gritting her teeth, he can tell. "So do you have it?"
"Which one you after?"
There is a pause and he knows just what is going through the little witch's mind. She is wondering how many things this vampire has pilfered from her kind. There will be an internal battle, with her incessantly loud morality demanding that she reclaim them all. He has no interest in whatever else is within these walls; he only wants one.
"The rooster claw," she says, her voice even. She has had to force that out. Poor thing, fighting against what she thinks is right for the sake of his mission (after all she can't alienate the help now can she?).
"That thing?" Ambrose chuckles now. "You gonna hex a herd of pigs?" He doesn't give Bonnie a chance to answer. "Well, you should know - you're not the only one interested in it." A favored lie of all salesmen. "Ten thousand should just about cover it…"
"Ten thousand?" Bonnie practically barks. "Things like that...they're a dime a dozen."
"So go on and make yourself one then," he shoots back. Bonnie has overplayed her hand. There is another pause. "However, I ain't above making deals. You got something I want…"
Klaus tenses in his seat. The fingers he has splayed on the sticky table top in front of him suddenly curl into his palm. He can't help himself. He turns his head far enough to get a glimpse of them. Bonnie is propped up against the bar, her elbows pushing her upper body forward - and that dolt is looking straight down.
(Klaus almost growls)
"I ain't seen a conduit in years," Ambrose drawls.
Bonnie's hand immediately moves to close around the stone that lay between her breasts. Suddenly the exchange takes on a new meaning (it's true meaning). She straightens her back to put space between them.
"Because they are rare," she shoots back. She is losing grip of whatever control she had when she first walked into the place.
"Right. That they are. So how this? You give me that thing - and I'll give you the rooster claw and let you walk out of here with all the blood still inside your body." Before she can pull back any further, Ambrose has snapped his arm out, closing his dirty fingers around her wrist. "Witch blood is also a best seller."
For a brief second Klaus thinks Bonnie looks afraid. Her fingers tighten around her necklace and then her mouth sets in a firm line.
Looks like he won't be the one starting the mayhem.
He stands at the exact moment she sets fire to Ambrose's arm. The younger vampire lets out a yelp, falling back against the shelf behind the bar. Expensive bottles of alcohol rain down around him. Then Ambrose is propelling himself forward, no doubt fueled by pain and the instinctual need for revenge. He gets nowhere near Bonnie.
Klaus is faster.
With a hand wrapped tightly around Ambrose's throat, Klaus pulls him across the bar and holds him high enough that the tips of his shoes barely scrape across the floor. The sorry few that populate the bar (a mixture of vampire and human alike) react accordingly. Chairs scrape across the floor. Some hastily make their way to the exit. Others stand at the edges of the confrontation, no doubt trying to decide whether or not to jump in.
(let them, Klaus practically begs whatever higher power that is listening)
Bonnie stands just behind him, her eyes shifting from the pair to the others that linger. Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus can see how her fingers are taunt, ready to lash out should the need arise. Safe in that knowledge, Klaus turns his full attention to Ambrose. "Threatening a potential customer?" He clucks his tongue. "What a shoddy way to do business. You should have just given her what she asked for. It would have been much easier for you. But…" He tightens his grip, squeezes until Ambrose's eyes bulge just a little. "...this is much more fun for me."