Chapter 2

(Ryan)

Well, shit.

He had no idea how he let himself get caught up in this situation. He always prided himself on his ability to stay one step ahead of other people. Getting Seylah's file from under Triad's nose? Easy. Getting that foster family to reveal Landon's location? Simple. Thwarting Saltzman's attempt to keep the urn? Child's play.

He clenched his jaw in frustration. How could he have allowed this to happen?

Being dragged to Malivore by Hope Mikaelson was most certainly not part of his plan.

He had to admit— Hope was a force to be reckoned with. He had watched her fight the Headless Horseman back at Triad. She matched his strikes blow by blow as Landon watched from below. She was obviously well-trained in physical combat and was an equally talented spellcaster, if not slightly reckless.

Yes, she may be young, but she was clearly more than capable of holding her own. More than that, she was clever. He almost had to admire her ability to strategize; bringing him along gave her the best possible chance of locating Malivore, Father.

The only other person who may have been able to guide her to him would be Landon, who she was apparently dating. He supposed she considered it too much of a risk to bring him along. He could see why she liked him, he was charming, bordering on obnoxious in his opinion, but he was obviously extremely loyal.

Too loyal to know what was good for him.

It's a shame he wouldn't remember her noble sacrifice when he resurrected. In fact, Landon would have no memory of Hope Mikaelson at all. He smirked at the thought.

Too bad, little brother.

Perhaps it was a kindness to him in the long run; this young woman had a certain sense of darkness about her. He recalled the way she had manipulated his will with her magic; she wasn't lying when she said she was enjoying herself.

His mind drifted back to the day's earlier events—

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, gesturing to the pit below.

"I assumed you were gonna try to stop me," she said, approaching him with interest.

"Hell no. I was only trying to raise my father because I'm terrified of him, and I knew he'd find a way out someday," he said. He wasn't lying.

"But if you're right about this loophole can actually kill the bastard once and for all, be my guest," he offered. "And if you're wrong, well, no harm done because you'll be dead."

"So, go on... I'll be rooting for you," he finished with a smile.

If she really intended on following through with this plan, she would have one hell of a fight on her hands. Regardless of what happened, he would be laying low until the dust settled.

"That's not all you'll be doing," she said, giving him a smile of her own. She was close—too close.

"Imitantor Pupulus," she said, moving her hands confidently with her words.

A moment passed, but he didn't feel anything—he let out a laugh.

"Whatever you think you just did didn't work—" Suddenly, his hand flew to cover his mouth, cutting off his words. The movement mirrored her own as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Panic struck him.

"How'd you do that…? Why did I do that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"It's a basic mimic spell," she said, clearly pleased with herself. "We learned it in second grade."

She stepped closer to him, eagerness shining in her eyes. He was reminded of a predator stalking its prey.

"Also, in second grade…Follow the Leader," she continued, reaching out to place her hand around his throat while he helplessly returned the gesture.

"You don't have to do this," he said. He could not allow this to happen.

"I know. But it's the only part I'm actually enjoying," she said with a smile. Her hand tightened on his throat, seemingly unconcerned that he was forced to mimic the action.

"Too bad you're so clumsy," she mocked as they climbed onto the railing. He tried to resist the force pulling at his limbs with invisible strings, but it was no use, her magic wound its way around him, cold and unyielding like a snake.

A heartbeat later she let gravity take over and the two plunged towards the inky pool below.

She smiled the entire way down.

Pulling himself from his memories, he spared a quick glance to his left where Hope was moving along at a determined pace. They had been walking for about an hour since their encounter with the unseen, wailing creature.

What he hadn't told her was that he was fairly certain they had just encountered the Irish spirit known as the banshee. The creature only makes its presence known when someone was about to die, heralding their fate with her otherworldly screams.

He could feel the last effects of the mimic spell fading away. He knew she must be aware as well, but since he had yet to formulate a plan of his own, he followed her lead.

"What Landon told me…" she started. "Is it true that you're the reason Triad Industries was created? You're the one who betrayed Malivore?" she asked.

"I see Landon's already passing on family stories," he replied. He hadn't regained awareness in time to hear all of what he had told her.

"Is that a yes?" she asked, eyes darting up to his.

"Yes," he answered.

"Why?" she asked.

He sighed. As much as he enjoyed laying his personal history bare before snarky teenagers, he was most certainly not in the mood.

"I'm sure you wouldn't begin to understand my reasons," he said.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said. "I've got a complicated family history too."

He knew the name Mikaelson; they had a rather notorious reputation. Klaus Mikaelson had once been a scourge upon the Earth, laying waste to entire villages if the mood suited him. The rest that he knew about the family was knowledge he had acquired more recently—specifically after crossing paths with Hope, the legendary tri-brid.

"Yes, your family is quite the sensation within the supernatural community," he replied.

He could tell she was trying to figure out how much he knew about her, but he wasn't willing to tip his hand.

He had not been gifted with his father's abilities; he didn't possess superior strength or senses like a werewolf or vampire, and no magic ran through his veins. His father had left him to wander the earth with nothing but his wits, so that is what he sharpened into a weapon.

To his surprise, she began to laugh.

Interesting.

"Yeah, my family has never shied away from the spotlight," she said, reaching for the pendant around her neck—a seemingly unconscious gesture.

"I suppose falling for Landon was the only logical choice for me," she mused. "I had to find someone with a family as messed up as mine."

He wasn't sure what to say. He held no deep affection for Landon; he was, until recently, a complete stranger to him. Moreover, he knew that once Malivore took control of him, the Landon she knew would cease to exist.

Just another creation to serve his will.

"What exactly is your plan?" he asked. "How do you see this playing out?"

"I'm still working on that," she said, seemingly undaunted.

This kept getting worse. Her impulsiveness and hero-complex were in direct opposition to his own calculating nature.

There is no way this was going to end well for either of them— and he didn't need a banshee to tell him that.