There had been few moments in Klaus Mikaelson's life where he genuinely feared for his life. When he first unleashed his hybrid self, and Elijah nearly staked him. When Silas had gotten inside his mind and forced him to believe that he was dying.
And now, where he remained chained in a filthy basement, his daylight ring removed and a white oak stake dangling in front of him, tied to a thread.
Madame Lalaurie had a sick sense of humor.
He supposed he ought to give her a little credit. Not every witch could trap an Original. Not every witch had connections all throughout the south, somehow earning her access to the last remaining white oak trees, where she was able to carve herself a weapon. Not every witch had the immense capabilities to continually suck on his energies, drinking his vampire and werewolf strength away, greedily. Hungrily.
"When I get out of here," Klaus said through gritted teeth. "I will kill her. Slowly."
"So very confident," A genteel voice purred. "And yet—once again—I have the upper hand."
Klaus let loose a stream of expletives that would have made a sailor blush, but the voice only chuckled.
"Not much for manners, are you," She stepped towards him and his gaze focused on her. There was no light to see her, but that didn't matter to a Hybrid.
She looked like a woman gone to seed, a figure with the barest remnants of beauty, someone who had been trying to look a certain age for far too long. She wore a sickly sweet perfume that burned Klaus' nose—vervain and roses, perhaps? She wore clothes of classic elegance, clothes that let her pretend she was demure and full of grace."
Madame Lalaurie," Klaus chuckled darkly. "I was just considering how I ought to congratulate you—right before I rip your heart from your chest."
Madame Lalaurie shrugged. "You don't seem to be in a state to do much, if you ask me," She delicately untied the white oak stake and toyed with it, combing it down the side of her face.
"You know, you and I—we're not so different," She remarked thoughtfully.
Klaus laughed hoarsely. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," She lightly traced the stake across Klaus' bare chest, stopping short of his heart.
"What is it you desire?" Madame Lalaurie questioned, leaning into him, barely pushing the stake into his chest. "Power? Loyalty? That's why you created your hybrids, isn't it? An army of creatures, just like you, completely disposable to your needs while you use their energies to enact your goals."
She leaned further and he could smell her rancid breath. "Now tell me, Klaus, how is that so different from enslaving my witches to do my bidding, hm?"
He glared at her, yanking forward on the chains, werewolf instincts tearing through, demanding to tear out her jugular. But Madame Lalaurie simply chuckled, pulling open a curtain. Sunlight streamed through the dungeon, burning his skin and he howled, jerking away. He had to balance on one foot, his back awkwardly arched to remain away from the sunlight, a position he could not hold for long.
"I think I'll leave you to your thoughts," Madame Lalaurie murmured. "Let you burn again and again. That's what's useful about an Original. Very few ways to die, but so much more options for pain."
She strolled out of the dungeon, ignoring Klaus' screams.
XXXX
"So…you're a witch," Caroline said slowly. "But isn't Madame Lalaurie a witch? Aren't you guys all Ya-Ya Sisterhood or something?"
"Madame Lalaurie is a leech," Kylie spat. "A leech who has made my family—and several of my friends'—lives a living hell. We have a long, ugly history, a history that's going to end in her death. Don't you dare make the mistake that my loyalties lie with that bitch."
Elijah cleared his throat. "Kylie has kindly agreed to help us locate our brother, Caroline, as well as provide her assistance in taking down Madame Lalaurie."
"Trust me, we're not exactly thrilled with siding with a witch in order to free Klaus, but sometimes, an occasion calls for us to get our hands dirty," Rebekah remarked delicately, examining her fingernails. Kylie threw them both an ugly look and then focused on Caroline.
"Are you an Original too?" She wanted to know, folding her arms.
Caroline wrinkled. "No way."
Kylie's brow furrowed. "What exactly is her connection to all this, then? Why were you so dead set on getting her help before beginning?' She turned her question to Elijah and Rebekah.
Elijah coughed awkwardly. "Caroline…has had a special connection to our family for a long time."
"I have not!" Caroline protested.
"Fine. A special connection to Klaus, then."
"I do not!"
"I would think she'd have better taste," Kylie said dryly. "Whatever. We need to get started if we want to locate Madame Lalaurie."
"Of course," Elijah acknowledged. "Just tell us what you need."
"Some of your blood," Kylie replied pointblank. She drew a needle from her purse and stabbed Elijah with it quickly. He flinched but said nothing about her ministrations. Kylie then walked towards the dining room table, drawing a map from the drawer.
Kylie closed her eyes, murmuring something in an unfamiliar language. Caroline watched her drip a drop of blood onto the map—she'd this kind of spell before, a long time ago.
However, the spell didn't seem to be working. The drop of blood remained motionless.
"Damn it," Kylie muttered.
"What's the problem?" Rebekah wanted to know.
Kylie sighed impatiently. "Madame Lalaurie must know you guys are here and looking for him. She's somehow countering the family blood spell; I can't use your guys' blood to track Klaus down."
"So there's nothing else you can do?" Rebekah snarled. "You promised us a locator spell!"
"And you'll get one!" Kylie snarled back. "I just need to think for a minute." She took a deep breath, tapping the map impatiently. Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head up, looking directly at Caroline.
"How close were you to Klaus?" She asked bluntly.
Caroline blinked. "What do you mean?"
"How close were you to Klaus?" Kyle repeated, slowly, as if Caroline were a child.
Caroline was in no mood to discuss the complexities of her relationship with Klaus. "Why does that matter?"
"Have you slept with him?" Kyle wanted to know.
"What?" Caroline yelped, her face burning red.
"I don't see how this is relevant," Rebekah said impatiently. "People you sleep with are no indicator of a relationship, certainly not for Klaus."
"Maybe not, but love is," Kylie insisted. "Wolves mate for life, right? If Klaus loves her, and they've been together, his wolf side may have claimed her as his mate. And I can use that to track him down."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Caroline exploded. "I am not his mate!"
Elijah looked intrigued. "Klaus was very attached to Caroline. It's very possible he loved her…"
"Okay, not to throw water on this plan, but I've had some experience dating werewolves," Caroline crossed her arms. "I've never heard of this 'wolves mate for life' thing."
"Well, clearly you and that werewolf weren't in love enough to make his mating instinct kick in," Kylie informed her. Caroline's hackles rose and she resisted her own vampiric instinct to rip Kylie's head off.
"Well, this is stupid!" Caroline announced snappishly. "And how do you two—even know about—" She couldn't finish her sentence, it brought back too many heated memories of her slammed against a tree, buttons flying, Klaus' hot mouth…
Elijah looked slightly abashed and Rebekah smirked at her. Caroline glowered at them both.
"Madame Lalaurie better kill Klaus now, because he's dead when I get my hands on him," She growled.
"Oh, please, it's not like it was a state secret," Rebekah put in snidely. "Klaus and me go to Mystic Falls, Klaus tells me to save Matt while he 'attends to business in the woods', comes back with a spring in his step and in a particularly annoying cheerful mood. Not that hard to put two and two together."
Caroline's cheeks flamed and she refused to speak. Elijah cleared his throat.
"I think it's at least worth a shot," He said, a little awkwardly. "But only if you're amenable to it, Caroline."
It was ridiculous. She was most certainly not Klaus' mate, she had made it perfectly clear to him that she wasn't ever going to see him again. But Elijah's eyes were pleading with her and it wasn't like they had any other leads to go on.
"Fine," Caroline thrust her hand towards Kylie. "But I'm telling you, it's not going to work—ouch!"
Kylie had swiftly stabbed her with a needle, apparently not interested in hearing any more of Caroline's protests. She squeezed Caroline's palm, letting the blood drip onto the map, her voice growing harsh as she whispered an incantation.
And of course, this time, the traitorous drop of blood quivered and bounced across the map, landing directly on a spot due north of their location.
"Well, well, well," Rebekah purred. "Mates indeed—so what does this mean, should I start calling you my sister-in-law or does a formal ceremony need to be in order?"
"Shut up," Caroline snarled.
"This cathedral's abandoned," Kylie noted. "But a good hiding place for Madame Lalaurie. New Orleans is infested with debilitated churches, falling apart on top of each other."
"Indeed," Elijah said approvingly. "We'll wait for nightfall. Then we attack."
"Hang on," Kylie objected. "I know you Originals love the direct route, but don't make the same mistake Klaus did in underestimating Madame Lalaurie. She'll have a Plan B and a Plan C, so we need one too."
Rebekeh sighed impatiently. "Strategy was always Klaus' specialty, not mine. Any ideas, Elijah?"
It irritated Caroline that after all the time Rebekah took demanding her help, Rebekah was now completely ignoring her.
"We split up," Caroline undercut Elijah. "Make a scouting mission first. Figure out where she's keeping Klaus, go from there."
"Excellent," Elijah nodded. "Myself and Rebekah will—"
"It should just be me," Caroline said firmly. "Madame Lalaurie knows your family, right? She'll be expecting you guys. And she knows Kylie too, I'm assuming—so it should just be me. I've got no connection to this, so even if I'm caught or get in trouble, she'll be more confused than concerned. We want to keep the upper hand no matter what."
"Well, apparently you have more of a connection to Klaus than you thought," Rebekah remarked and Caroline threw her a filthy look.
"My point is," She snapped. "Madame Lalaurie doesn't know who I am. I'm your guys' best bet."
"I think she's right," Kylie gave Caroline a rare smile. "While she does that, I'll get some more of the witches together. There's only a straggle of us left, but they'll help. Madame Lalaurie's been leeching off us for too long."
XXXX
The church was a wreck. There was one remaining stained glass window, a depiction of John the Baptist, while all the remaining windows were either broken or boarded up. The steeple looked caved in and the walls of the church were covered in graffiti.
Spoiled beauty, Caroline thought to herself as she surveyed it from a rooftop. She sighed a little, wondering how on earth she'd gotten mixed up in all this. Never mind. It didn't matter. They'd save Klaus and she would be out of the city, to return to her European adventure.
She decided not to think about what a reunion with Klaus would be like. One task at a time.
There was a small crowd of humans gathered in the alley outside the church. To the untrained eye, they looked like the homeless—but Caroline knew better. There was more makeup than dirt on their cheeks and their clothes were just a little too artfully ripped—Madame Lalaurie apparently had a penchant for theatrics. That was fine. Caroline was a drama major. She knew the stage.
It wasn't compulsion, but it was something like it. The witch version, perhaps. Madame Lalaurie was clever, setting out sentries that no one would notice, just grubby humans who had apparently been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caroline made up her mind to set them free as soon as she figured out where Klaus was being kept.
Caroline leapt from the building, landing neatly in the middle of the sidewalk. She pulled out a camera from her purse and made to act like she was interested in photographing the crumbling church. None of the passerby even noticed her—she probably looked too much like a tourist.
She walked round the building and her breath hitched when she noted a graveyard in the back. What was it that Bonnie had once told her? Some witches were 'familial witches', and drew their energies and magic from their ancestors, rather than nature. The graveyard didn't look like much—the graves weren't even marked. But they were old, clearly from Madame Lalaurie's time. But why here?
Nevertheless, there had to be something significant towards this cemetery if Madame Lalaurie had chosen this church. Caroline pricked her ears, listening for any patrols or busybodies. It seemed Madame Lalaurie's henchmen were on the north side of the church, facing some of the tourists. She'd have to be careful, but she could just easily sneak in through the side entrance.
She found a door, which appeared to be a custodial entrance. Almost immediately, her nostrils were filled with dust and she coughed into her arm. Her eyes adjusted and she found herself in a little hallway, littered with bits of junk and rusted over buckets.
The church was silent. Even her heightened senses could detect nothing, aside from the skittering of vermin and the rotting of the wood. Nevertheless, Caroline's skin prickled uncomfortably. There was something off about this church.
What was she looking for? She turned a corner and found herself facing double doors, presumably an entryway into the sanctuary. The church was tiny, even smaller than the local protestant church in Mystic Falls.
"Okay," Caroline murmured. "What's so special about this church. Why would Madame Lalaurie stash Klaus here?"
Her research on the woman indicated that the witch was a splashy, stylish sort of woman, someone who loved to put on a good show. No wonder she and Klaus were at odds with each other. So why wouldn't she hide Klaus in her Royal Street mansion?
Too obvious. Madame Lalaurie was theatrical, not stupid. Anyone who had the barest gleaning of New Orleans history knew about the slave quarters, where she would torment and abuse her slaves in the most gruesome of ways. The Royal Street mansion would have been the first place the Originals looked.
But what was the significance of this church?
"For someone who was so deadest on going it alone, you're not exactly inspiring a lot of confidence just standing there."
Caroline whipped around to see Kylie leaning against the wall. "What are you doing here?"
"What you said made sense, but you forgot a crucial detail," Kylie delicately picked a piece of lint off her black cardigan. "Madame Lalaurie doesn't know who I am for one, and you're not a witch. You're likely to blunder into a nasty hex or curse if I don't watch out for you."
"Gee, thanks," Caroline retorted sarcastically. "I thought you said you and Lalaurie had a history."
"I said my family and her had a history," Kylie corrected. "She's not too good with names of people she's tormented. A striking difference from Klaus, I hear he never forgot the names of his slaves."
Caroline flinched at her tone, though she didn't know why. Klaus did have slaves—hybrid slaves. Tyler was one of them. And Klaus brutally murdered all of them and swore revenge against Tyler for defying him.
"Nothing to say to that?" Kylie smiled approvingly. "Good. I get tired of Elijah constantly trying to redeem him. Never forget, he's the lesser of two evils."
"Are you just going to stand there and trash Klaus?" Caroline asked finally, placing her hands on her hips. "Or are you going to help me actually find him? I'm sure this rant would be a lot more effective towards him, right now you're just preaching to the choir."
"Hm, some mate you are," Kylie remarked but Caroline ignored her. "Okay. Hang on a tick." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, cocking her head. Caroline watched her, the hairs on her arms prickling once again. It almost felt like there was a draft in the church, something blowing through their bodies—but if that were true, papers and debris would be scattering.
Kylie's eyes opened. "The rectory," She said tersely. Caroline walked up to the altar and wrenched the door to the lectern open. Her eyes narrowed when she realized the dust had been disturbed—someone had been here recently. She squatted, pulling a rug up to reveal a trap door.
"Hold it," Kylie said sharply. "Let me see." There was a marking on the door, something Caroline didn't recognize.
"Mm," Kylie's brow furrowed. "That's not good."
"What is it?" Caroline asked nervously.
"Particularly complex bit of magic," Kylie replied, straightening, dusting off her jeans. "Very nasty. It'll alert Madame Lalaurie that you're here once you pass through, and it will also trigger an assortment of…things."
"Things?" Caroline swallowed.
"Yeah. Mostly mental attacks. Phantoms from your memories, images from your worst nightmares, that sort of thing," Kylie narrowed her eyes. "Not something an Original should pass through. Or a witch."
"Is that an invitation just for me?" Caroline asked dryly.
Kylie shrugged. "This hex was tailored for an Original or a New Orleans witch, the two that Madame Lalaurie are expecting. You're a young vampire, by my estimation. You won't have as many nasty thoughts and negative energies as Elijah or Rebekah or me."
"Goody."
"In any case, once you step through that trap door, Lalaurie will know you're here. That means I need to go back. Get Elijah and Rebekah, marshal our forces. I'll do a basic linking spell between you and me so once you find Klaus, I'll find you." Kylie stated matter-of-factly. The lack of emotion in her tone bothered Caroline—no one should be this blasé about pissing off a racist slave-owner witch.
"Fine," Caroline flinched when Kyle sliced her hand, murmuring some words over her blood. "Any other tips?"
A shadow fell over Kylie's eyes. "Be careful. Something Madame Lalaurie invoked…it won't be pleasant. Just…keep your eyes open. Don't play his games."
"His?"
"I'll be back with Rebekah and Elijah," Kylie told her, shuffling away from the lectern. "See you in a few."
Caroline took a deep breath, refusing to watch Kylie leave her alone in the dusty church. She bent down, jerked the trapdoor open, and clambered inside.