A.N.: I hope you are all suitably rehydrated, I don't want anyone going to the doctor on account of Giulijah smut.

It's what you've all been waiting for...


Dangerous Beauty

17

Kat-Fight


She yawned, pushing the gym door open, a wave of heat hitting her like a freighter as she adjusted the strap of her gym-bag, chewing on the cap of her water-bottle as she rummaged around for her car-keys. Energised, bright-eyed and wide-awake from an intense workout with Ric and Jeremy, whom he was showing the ropes, followed by a session in the steam-room, there was a spring in her step. She had blow-dried her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, not bothering with makeup, allowing the warmth of the late-evening sun to caress her bare legs and arms. She was happy in the sunshine, the heat – couldn't imagine her life without it, wondered how she had survived through the winter. She hadn't felt this good in ages. She was high on endorphins, post-workout, anticipating a meal Elijah had promised to prepare for them, sunglasses on, freshly showered, the birds chirping in the blossoming trees as she padded across the quiet parking-lot to her car. She had scrolled the ancient windows down, had fought the urge to swear when she realised the winder had broken, her passenger-side window now stuck fully open; she had valeted her car this morning after doing some chores in the house, working on the engine, and sighed, realising she might have to cave and let Stefan and Damon work on her Beetle to get it into road-tripping shape.

Caroline had been very intuitive about her dad's opinion on their road-trip. He was all game for them going, thinking it would be a wonderful life-experience for them both, provided their GPAs were above-exceptional, they provided an itinerary of camp-sites, motels and places they might likely be in the vicinity of so Sheriff Forbes could call in favours and check up on them remotely, if they were having too much fun to remember to charge their phones. He was dubious but assured that it was Giulia and not Caroline rebuilding the trailer; but he was dead-set on examining every inch of her car and the trailer itself before he let them cross county lines. He didn't know Caroline was a vampire; Liz was dead set against him finding out, knowing more than they would about her ex-husband's view on vampires. But Caroline's new abilities had certainly made it easier to convince Liz they could do this on their own. They were planning for Liz to meet up with them for a week, somewhere they could do the kinds of stuff she'd like – long hikes, maybe horseback riding, mountain-climbing. Giulia was thinking Wyoming.

She had been chatting with Ric and Jeremy about the ongoing plans she was formalising with Caroline for their trip, bits and pieces added as they got flurries of inspiration from magazines or, like Giulia, from a conversation with Cara about a vintage festival she attended every summer and, friends with the organiser since the 1910s she had offered to get Giulia tickets if they wanted to meet her, Cara and possibly Ashlyn, who had been talking to Jeremy about the six-week course for high-school students at the New York Academy of Art she had been applying to.

"I think it's a great idea," Ric grinned, pausing to take a swig from his water-bottle. "Sixteen years old, spending six weeks in New York city all by yourself?"

"Just don't stress that point when you're convincing Jenna to let me go," Jeremy chuckled. "I really wanna do it, and I've got money saved up to cover the admin fee and accommodation."

"Do you know what classes you'll take?"

"I've had a look at the course catalogue, there's a bunch I'm really excited to apply for, but I'm guessing it's the luck of the draw with what you get after you've made your choices," Jeremy said excitedly, a gleam in his eyes Giulia couldn't remember seeing since before his parents died. He used to get the same look whenever his dad surprised him with tickets to a Major League Baseball game, or going to the lake-house for the summer, or the cute girl he had a crush on asking him to the dance. His freshman year seemed like a very long time ago, even though it had only been last year. "There are some portraiture classes, and this one design class I'm really interested in, one with model-building and stop-motion photography and another one that focuses on special-effects for TV and movies."

"Cool!" Giulia grinned. "You'd be so good working on a Peter Jackson movie. You're weird and macabre. Maybe a Tim Burton, or a Stephen King."

"Uh-uh, no Stephen King," Ric said, shivering.

"You hunt vampires and Stephen King freaks you out?" Giulia grinned, teasing.

"Haven't you watched The Shining?"

"Yes. It soothes me," Giulia said honestly. Ric blinked.

"That does not shock me as much as it should," he said.

"She's practically living in her own Overlook Hotel," Jeremy remarked, glancing at Giulia as he adjusted the weight of the equipment he was working on.

"Well, that's true," Ric sighed, chugging his drink.

She smiled, reflecting on the conversation with Jeremy and Ric, glad she had managed to spend some time with them. Despite it being spring break, she was no less busy, and she had been spending fewer evenings out of the house, to run into Jeremy or Ric at The Grill – either separately, or sharing a meal with Jenna and Elena. With Ric, Jenna was building a new family for Elena and Jeremy, even if she didn't realise it. Giulia got the feeling Grayson Gilbert would have liked Ric – certainly he was the best guy Jenna had ever dated, and Miranda would have liked him simply for not being Logan Scumfell, for being down-to-earth, tough and kind. The deep maternal instinct in Miranda would probably have extended to lost Ric, especially had she learned of his wife's fate.

She dumped her gym-bag into the trunk of her car, finding it weird how clean it was in there, and frowned slightly, the fine hairs at the back of her neck rising with awareness as she shut the door. She jangled her keys, yawning, and sidled around to the driver's door.

"Hey," a soft voice said, familiar and yet…not. Just a fraction of an octave too low; it struck her as incongruous, the low, sexy, throaty voice, so familiar and yet in that single syllable, so alien. Well, well… She glanced around, finding Elena standing under the swaying crepe myrtle already in full blossom. Appearance-wise, she had tried. A demure little tuck of her chin toward her chest trying to offset the beautifully curled chestnut hair, but it seemed she couldn't resist the thick, full lashes, the skin-tight black jeans and gleaming black leather belt, the accessories.

"Hello, Katherine," she said casually, as if they had met before. As if she didn't know Katherine was a five-centuries-old vampire whore intent on massacring her friends simply to barter for a freedom her behaviour would never earn for her. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, her expression shifting instantaneously into something different, something smug, predatory, sly.

"You really are the smart one," she sighed, smirking, as she popped a hip, leaning against the crepe myrtle. Giulia pulled a face.

"Because I didn't fall for the charade?" Giulia said. She was the smart one for a myriad of reasons, not the least her powers of observation. "You couldn't be less obvious about it."

"What gave me away?" Katherine smirked unconcernedly.

"Where do I start?" Giulia sighed, making a point to eye her slowly, frowning. She raised her eyebrows at Katherine's cleavage. "Firstly, you're in small-town Virginia, you're not a Kardashian – lose the five-extra-cups-guaranteed Victoria's Secret push-up bra. Elena wears flared jeans, absolutely no accessories, so hide that on your ankle," she said, tucking a fingertip delicately under the lapis stone resting around Katherine's slender throat. She eyed Katherine's awesome ankle-boots, way too chic and edgy for Elena to ever pull off. She gave Katherine a disapproving look. "Converses, or ballet-flats with a strap that ties around the ankle. Soft knees, turned in; on the tips of your toes as if you're about to start running. She always wears the vervain necklace Stefan gave her." She placed her hands on Katherine's slim shoulders, pressing gently to curl them in. "Shoulders turned down and in, you're a non-confrontational, demure little darling; look up through your eyelashes with just the perfect mixture of gentle earnestness and self-righteous, bitchy indignation. While you're at it–" She scoffed at Katherine's face, the exquisitely blended crème-contouring, the subtlest application of blush perfectly matched to her rich olive skin, the tinted lipstick just a shade duskier and rosier than her natural lip-colour with a shimmer of gloss, the false lashes masterfully blended with her own with lashings of expensive mascara, perfectly smoked-out eyeliner. "Wipe that shit off your face. Tinted moisturiser, a touch of crème blush on one of her can-be-bothered days, chap-stick, maybe the dark-chocolate cherry Palmer's lip-balm if you really want to get crazy, fawn-coloured eyeshadows with the subtlest hint of shimmer, maybe a soft cocoa colour to smudge out the lash-line, and comb but don't fill your brows, a few light coats of brown mascara," she said, giving Katherine a vicious grin, "all drugstore cosmetics." Katherine narrowed her eyes, looking horrified at the very idea. "Heat-protective spray on your hair; straight-iron it to death. No perfume. Stick to natural-tones for clothing – purples, blues, navies, olive; brown-leather bombers, no belts. Elena's mom always made her wear a thermal camisole under her tops. She did have this really cute orangey-red peasant-style blouse that worked gloriously with her colouring, but it died a death after she started dating Stefan and stopped bothering."

Giulia flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, channelling her inner Caroline Forbes. "And remember, she's a small-town girl known to be demure and self-sacrificing to the point she believes her own press. She's a heightened sense of her own mortality and wants to protect everyone, and thinks she has any power to sway the behaviour of centuries-old vampires by pouting and giving them the cold-shoulder when they don't act the way she wants. She can't take criticism but loves to dish out judgement; she uses subtle manipulation she learned as the spoiled daughter of parents who died for her. She spends her days daydreaming through lessons when she bothers to show up to school, and her nights Stefan-longing and scribbling Deep Thoughts into her diary."

"Wow," Katherine blinked, stunned.

"You look a little stunned. You obviously don't know Elena and I had a little tiff," Giulia said, shrugging. "Still feel like masquerading as her? It'd take all the spice out of life. Anyway, what do you want?"

"No playing coy with you, is there?" Katherine purred, eyeing her from her painted toes to her freshly blow-dried hair. It was like pre-orphaned Elena was stood there, in all her Mean Girl glory. It hadn't come out often, but when the spirit took over, Elena had been capable of out-bitching Caroline Forbes. Giulia observed her. This was Elena if she actually made an effort. This ancient girl in front of her was not full-blown Katherine Pierce, she was trying to masquerade as Elena and found that doing so leached her of any style or defining features to attract attention. Katherine narrowed her eyes at her, a sudden glare making Giulia smile softly. She had her keys in her hand, idly playing with them while Katherine focused on her. "Where's Mason?"

Giulia pursed her lips thoughtfully, glancing away. "Playing Frisbee at the park?" she shrugged idly. She had received a cryptic text this morning from a new number; Mason had bought a burner phone to contact her with a number he had taken from Carol's address-book, telling her he was heading south-west. He had his surfboard, his truck, and no responsibilities back in Florida to tie him down. He had told Carol and Jenna that now that things were a little more settled with Carol and Tyler, he needed to keep moving, fleeing a bad breakup in Florida. He'd asked her not to save his number in her phone under his name, and had mentioned to her he might hit as far west as California. He'd heard of a pack near San Diego, hidden in the wooded hills.

"Playing Frisbee," Katherine simmered at her, "at the park." Giulia shrugged. "I suppose you think you're clever," Katherine said, a lethal smile illuminating her features. Giulia realised it was like watching Gollum and Smeagol argue in The Two Towers. Two sides of the same face. This one was far more interesting.

"Marginally cleverer than the usual high-schoolers, drunk surfers and blushing southern belles you terrorise and seduce, yes," Giulia said modestly. She had anticipated what Katherine's moves would be after Giulia chased her boy-toy and lupine sacrifice out of town. Adjust to Plan B: target Tyler Lockwood. Orchestrate a scenario wherein he triggered his curse – use his inability to walk away from a fight, his anger issues, push him to a breaking-point.

Of course, should Tyler trigger his curse, thus ensuring Damon viewed him as the real threat he might turn into, one false step from Tyler and Damon would yank his heart out of his chest. Katherine would lose another werewolf. And they were too difficult to replace for Katherine to be flippant about it.

Katherine talked a big game to Stefan and Damon but she only had so many do-overs. Only so many chances to get this thing done right – two chances, unless she wanted to spend the next decade searching out more werewolves to lead to the slaughter. And by that time Elena might be gone – or turned. How long could she survive the two Salvatore brothers' proximity without ending up dead-dead or a vampire?

No, Katherine wouldn't risk letting Elena out of her sights until Klaus had drained every last drop of blood from her body, and she had been granted her freedom, her absolution after half a millennium of running. Giulia thought Katherine was a fool to believe she'd ever have the forgiveness of a villain like Klaus; Elijah had told her some things, ways in which Klaus liked to punish his siblings. So how did he deal with his enemies who betrayed him?

So she had two chances; Giulia had just royally mucked up the first, chasing Mason away. She only had Tyler now.

Katherine blinked. "Blushing southern belles? – Oh. You mean Stefan and Damon." She narrowed her eyes. "Those boys are smarter than you think."

"You don't know how smart I think they are – which, given they've involved themselves with Elena, is not very," Giulia said honestly. Neither Stefan nor Damon would have looked twice at Elena had she not so punishingly resembled their Katherine, whose eyes on her were dark and calculating. "And Stefan's not clever enough to remember what he wrote in his journals during the Twenties. He never re-reads his Ripper entries." She shook her head, sighing; much as she had been terrified of the Ripper when she was little, they were her favourite entries in Stefan's journals. Elicit, dangerous, outrageously macabre, manic and lusty. He made Dorian Gray look like a pussy.

But she had found reference to Klaus' curse in Stefan's diaries from 1922. His friend Nik; the stories Rebekah had told him while they lounged in bed, mixing cocktails. She had even found photographs, tucked in between the brittle leaves of his leather-bound journal. She had still been able to smell the blood and gin on the age-damaged pages, Stefan's handwriting shifting dramatically from a serial-killer's elegant, meticulous cursive to his usual chicken-scratch, frantic markings as he tried to write everything he was thinking down too quickly, lest he forget, his lust for Rebekah giving way to devastation and confusion, horror at what memories he could sift through, afraid he was going mad as he read old entries and could remember nothing. But Giulia had read through it all, had guessed what had happened, and was made more curious by the holes in the story. The details.

The devil was always in the details; Klaus was in the details of every line Stefan had written during his 1922 Ripper phase in Chicago. Well, Giulia had teased, Stefan would have been seventy-five in 1922; she wasn't surprised the dementia had kicked in. He had chuckled, glad she had made light of what he'd written in his journals.

But Stefan wouldn't dwell on those journals, those memories to realise the connection. Besides Elijah, Giulia and Stefan were the only two people in town who knew what Katherine was up to. Stefan didn't even realise it. But Elijah...

And Giulia had that delicious gambit tucked inside her bra.

She had him to go home to tonight; he had promised her a Keralan fish curry, had let her smell the spices and herbs he was going to use to tempt her not to eat junk after hitting the gym. Another perfect meal for the continuing hot-spell they were blessed with. Katherine was making her late for dinner – she was anxious about not making Elijah wait for her, as it was a lovely gesture, cooking dinner for her when he didn't have to eat. But he loved the sociability of meals, of cooking together, and she knew that. Relished the unfamiliar tradition.

"Do you want to know something ironic?" Giulia asked, and Katherine raised an eyebrow insolently. "It wasn't actually his part in the sacrifice that made it so easy to convince Mason to leave town. He seemed almost relieved to think he wouldn't have to go through the transformations anymore. You might've just been able to convince him to stride to that fiery altar of blood and sacrifice himself…if it hadn't also meant two innocent girls would be slaughtered too."

Katherine scoffed, smirking. "Your bestie Caroline is hardly innocent."

"Darling, by your standards, she's the fucking Virgin," Giulia said coolly, sweeping her eyes over Katherine. Over five-hundred years Giulia wondered just how many men had fallen to Katherine's charms – vampire and human alike; she could compel the latter. The former, she had had to seduce the good old-fashioned way.

Tears aren't a woman's only weapon, Cersei Lannister had slurred into her wine during the Siege of King's Landing. The best one is between your legs.

Giulia wondered who would win the Game of Thrones – Katerina Petrova or Cersei Lannister?

Definitely Katherine. Vampirism aside.

"Your devotion to Caroline is absolutely darling," Katherine smiled viciously. "It's almost pathological."

"And your devotion to your reflection?" Giulia retorted, unfazed. "You might use Narcissa as your name de guerre."

"I see why Elena doesn't spend much time with you anymore. I have sources who tell me you two had a little bit of a snit over Isobel," Katherine smiled wickedly. "Mommy issues on top of an achingly co-dependent relationship with your bestie shrouded in so much sexual-tension neither of you will ever have a satisfying relationship."

"At least we'll have each other," Giulia replied without missing a beat, eyes sparkling. She could play this game; it was quite lovely to be playing a battle of bitchcraft against a girl whose face Elena had stolen, and wore with far less sass. If she had thought Giulia would crumble at little snips about a deteriorating friendship, or commenting on the nature of her bond with Caroline, Katherine needed to brush up on tactics and sharpen her claws. The little Kitty-Kat had picked the wrong prey to taunt; Giulia was one of those angler fish, not a flattering comparison but accurate. Beyond the beguiling, pretty light was a vicious sea-monster who would take a chunk out of lulled prey. "How is your friend Isobel, by the way?"

"Just fine," Katherine smiled beguilingly.

"She's not at all…emotional at you plotting to slaughter her daughter?"

"That's the beauty of the humanity-switch," Katherine preened, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the curls bouncing almost sassily.

"And your old ally John Gilbert? Now I'm pretty sure he still has his emotions, even if he's never had much humanity," Giulia mused.

"Haven't heard from him," Katherine shrugged uncaringly. "Don't tend to keep in contact with people who want me dead."

"No, you prefer to tie up the loose ends instead," Giulia said, eyeing her. She was surprised John had made it this long after the town centre massacre. "By the way, what are you going to do now that the moonstone is gone?"

"Oh, I'm sure it'll turn up," Katherine said nastily, eyeing her. "Unless you want this town to drown in its own blood, you'll find a way of getting it back for me. If you have to scour the continent chasing after Mason Lockwood running with his tail between his legs, you'll find a way to get me that moonstone."

"Will I?" Giulia raised her eyebrows. "The thing is, Kitty, is that there is more than one bidder on that little rock. And something tells me they want it far more than you do."

"Klaus wouldn't lift a finger chasing ghosts while he knows I'm putting everything in place for him to lift the curse," Katherine said, self-assuredness written in the bold set of her shoulders, the jut of her jaw.

"While I'm sure that's true," Giulia shrugged a shoulder idly, "he'll let you do your thing, build your belief your salvation can be bought, and then take it all. Including you. Anyway, he's not who I'm talking about. You've probably met him before, be it a while ago. Terrifyingly calm and callous, emotionally constipated, sartorially exquisite, hair glossier and with prettier natural highlights than yours. Do you get it highlighted, by the way? You must do. And extensions and bumper-pads, right? That volume is envious, that gloss!" She tutted lightly, admiring. Katherine stared at her. There was a slyness undercutting the magnetism of her features, Katherine managed to be at once a coy darling and a vicious harpy, too predictable in her unpredictability. Her reactions were set off by hair-triggers, volatile, selfish and narcissistic, and driven by a single emotion: fear.

Giulia didn't mind admitting to herself that she enjoyed how changeable Katerina's features were. Everything was visceral, right there, emotions, annoyance, amusement, smugness, self-assurance, all played across her features, animated and delightfully refreshing. Elena had three: Pouting, Stefan-Longing, and Self-Righteously Indignant.

Katherine's features shifted, fear flickering across her dark eyes before she shook her hair back, shoulders straightening, a self-assured smile on her face. "Elijah Mikaelson hasn't been seen for decades. Not since New Orleans burned in 1919."

"Elijah hasn't been seen by anyone who'd run in your circles," Giulia said with a disdainful sniff, and Katherine narrowed her eyes at the implication. "You've made too much noise, Katherine, coming to town throwing your weight around, stirring up drama for the sake of it."

Katherine had never been part of her plans; there was no controlling her, no anticipating the lengths she would go to, and she was too old, paranoid and cruel to work against. She would see an attack coming a mile away, either brutal, desperate and in-your-face or a slow-burning long-con. No, the best way to get Katherine was if no-one suspected there was anything amiss. Giulia hadn't planned to deal with Katherine; therefore she was successful when she acted on a whim, surprising them both.

You wait for the opportune moment, a rum-rich voice murmured in her ear.

She sighed, clicked her lap-counter, grabbed Katherine's head, and snapped her neck. Quickly, clinically, without thinking about anything else, no squeamishness or hesitation, using the training her dad had insisted she have. It didn't take more than three seconds, and a skinny heap crumbled at her feet, glossy curls shining in the sun. Not stopping to glance around, she used the mini epi-pen attached to her keychain, stabbing Katherine in the throat. It wasn't to combat exposure to peanut-butter; it had been modified by Miss Sheila, a mystical paralytic strong enough to take out a five-hundred-year-old vampire for an hour.

Giulia sighed, straightening up, and glanced around the empty parking-lot. The windows of the gym were tinted and, she knew, had little equipment arranged beneath them for gym-goers to be watching her. She had weighed the pros of paralysing Katherine as greater than the cons – the fact that she was now dead weight Giulia had to haul to and arrange in her car, completely unresponsive. But Katherine's dead weight was the same as Elena's – ninety pounds soaking-wet in her ski-gear, and she was more awkward than anything, skinny spider-limbs and sharp elbows. She unlocked her car, adjusting the passenger seat back as far as it would go, and looped her arms under Katherine's armpits, rather unkindly dragging Katherine's bare legs across the asphalt that seared through the soles of her sandals, stuffing her into the car. Out of habit, half thrown back to memories of taking care of drunk-Caroline, she leaned across Katherine, buckling her seatbelt, and tucked a wayward curl behind Katherine's ear as it swayed in front of her face.

Katherine's dark eyes followed her, the only indication she had recovered from her snapped neck, fury emanating from them, mingled with sheer panic, probably wondering what the hell Giulia had done to her. She imagined it was Katherine's own personal hell, trapped inside her own body, absolutely powerless to the mercy of someone else. An enemy she had gloriously underestimated.

Giulia slung herself into the driver's seat, jamming the key into the ignition, coaxing the engine to life, relieved when the car rumbled. She adjusted the volume on the stereo, taking pleasure in the fact her broken window now sent Katherine's curls in an uncontrollable flurry around her head, caught in her shimmering lip-gloss. Giulia chuckled to herself, taking the exit out of the business-park where her gym was located, and started driving home.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled the handbrake into place, knocking her gearstick familiarly to check it was in neutral as she withdrew her key. Her phone started to buzz as she unbuckled Katherine's seatbelt, looping the tiny little leather Yves bag – Giulia had the same one, ironically, a remnant of her Lost Weekend with Caroline – over Katherine's head, thinking she wouldn't need it. She grabbed her phone from the little well by her gearstick and smiled.

"Hello, lovely," she purred. Oh, she was in a good mood.

"Are you on your way?" Elijah asked.

"I'm running a little late," Giulia said, glancing down at the prone Katherine. "Don't put anything in the oven yet."

"How long will you be?" Elijah asked calmly.

"Maybe forty minutes?" Giulia sighed.

"If your car has broken down again, I really may have to insist you acquire a new mode of transportation," Elijah said calmly.

"I've got a bike," Giulia shrugged. "I'll be home soon; I've just got to sort out a few things."

"You sound cheerful, at least; did you get a good workout in?" Elijah asked.

"I did, actually. Saw Ric and Jeremy," Giulia smiled. "I managed to catch up with them, which I haven't for ages because some devastating man has started dominating my spare-time."

"I feel not in the slightest bit guilty," Elijah said smilingly. "I'd say hurry home, but your car would most likely spontaneously fragment along the asphalt."

"Don't talk about her like that!" Giulia gasped teasingly. "She's a reliable old girl."

"Unless you need to drive her anywhere," Elijah quipped.

"I'm hanging up on you now," Giulia sniffed, and she heard Elijah chuckling as she did, in fact, hang up on him. She had only so much time before the paralytic wore off: using the military stance her dad had taught her, she pulled Katherine out of the car by her arm, draping her thin, angular frame across her shoulders, and adjusted her stance to take into account Katherine's dead weight. Luckily she was able to drive close to the tomb, otherwise it would have taken ages to carry her body through the woods, the effects of the paralytic wearing off too soon for comfort.

She grimaced and shouted, "Sorry!" when she stumbled, tripping down a few crumbled ancient steps covered in bracken and dry pine-needles, Katherine's weight tipping her forward – she saved herself a bad fall only by relinquishing Katherine's weight. The paralysed vampire dropped like an anvil down the steps, and Giulia grimaced guiltily as the body wearing her friend's face stopped, sprawled in an unflattering heap at the foot of the stairs, banged up and bleeding from the branch she had fallen into, gouging her face. She sighed, hopping down the rest of the steps, and glanced down at Katherine. "Whoops. Oh, sorry," she grimaced, peering at the damage, before shrugging, and going to check on the tomb entrance. The great carved stone door had been left ajar, Stefan had tried replacing it to prevent kids from exploring, finding the incinerated corpses with strange fangs, before getting distracted, and Giulia now had barely two feet to shove Katherine through into the black void beyond.

How best to do this? she thought, frowning from Katherine to the tomb entrance. "Ah!" She snapped her fingers, chuckling, and grabbed hold of Katherine's ankles to drag her across the main chamber of the church basement where, so many months ago, Sheila, Bonnie and Bree had temporarily lifted the spell on the tomb entrance.

Vampires could get in. But they couldn't leave.

The stone blockade was more for unwitting humans than the vampires entombed within. She'd have to get that set snugly back in place.

"It's lucky you're all eyelashes," Giulia grimaced, managing to manoeuvre Katherine into the gloomy little corridor, glowing in the half-light of the early-evening sun reflecting off the rock. There wouldn't be more than a sliver of light at any given time, until she got the stone moved. She coughed, dumping Katherine's legs after dragging her far enough into the tomb she was sure Katherine had passed through the mystical boundary. It smelled like ashes, the fire she had set months ago had blazed through the tomb, burning away the damp, at least for a little while. The corpses had turned to ash, billowing where she dumped Katherine on the ground, and she shivered, dusting off her legs, conscious Elijah would be able to pick up the scent.

Oh well, she thought. She didn't know what he got up to every day when she went out; she doubted he guessed most of what trouble she sauntered into. She dusted off her hands, brushed the ash off her feet, and slipped through the entrance.

"Bye, Kitty," she called joyfully, and there was a spring in her step as she made her way back to her car, chuckling, imagining the simmering rage Katherine had been forced to internalise by Sheila's mystical paralytic. "Have fun with the other vermin!"

Katherine = 1, Giulia = Fifty Gold Stars!

She climbed into her car, enjoying the humid warmth as the backs of her thighs scratched against the warm blanket she used to cover her seat, uncapping her Gatorade before turning to the little Yves bag. Curious, Giulia took it, opening the clasp. A fancy Blackberry Torch 9800, a tube of MAC Dazzleglass in 'Get Rich Quick' – "It looked glorious on you," Giulia mused, eyeing the coppery shimmer gloss in the sunlight, thinking about the amusement she would get out of gifting it to Elena – an expensive Givenchy mascara, and a Tom Ford 'Shade & Illuminate' crème highlighter and contouring compact. A single key with a magnolia keychain, an address embossed on one side.

Mrs Flowers' B&B, she thought, with a smirk. No, Katherine was not the tawdry motel girl; she liked to be waited on. Mrs Flowers was an old dear with a charming little bed-and-breakfast downtown, a favourite for retirees and honeymooners, attached to a delightful little horse-riding school out in the sticks for horseback tours of the falls their town was named for.

She tucked everything back into the little purse, pulling out her own phone and making a couple of calls. They didn't last more than a few minutes each, and by the time she reached home, it was spot-on forty minutes after she had spoken with Elijah. The fragrant spices and flavours of a rich curry drifted on the air as she parked her car, and she followed her nose out to the deck, where Elijah was stood at the grill, parting the tin-foil on a huge parcel, steam billowing from it, little ceramic dishes she had started collecting full of chopped cilantro and lemon-wedges, a bowl of fluffy jasmine rice covered on the table set for two, with candles flickering, enhancing the scent of citrus to keep away the early mosquitoes.

"Hello," she hummed happily, winding her arms around Elijah's waist, hugging him from behind. She pressed kisses to his neck in greeting.

"You have an exceptional gift for punctuality," Elijah said, sipping his wine and shooting her a sidelong smile, before he passed her the glass. She smiled, taking it from him, leaned in to kiss his cheek, as he tore the foil open, releasing a cloud of steam so tangible she could bite it, showing the contents – a colourful, bubbling curry of onion, bell peppers, unnameable spices and chillies, halved cherry-tomatoes, coconut-milk, a large slab of salmon laid over all that Elijah started to break up into large chunks, shrimp curled here and there, squeezing lemon juice over it all, sprinkling cilantro over it before setting it down on the table.

"This looks stunning," Giulia beamed, sipping the wine and passing the glass back to Elijah with another kiss to his cheekbone. She laughed joyfully, "You get laid and I get spoiled!"

"Well, we must keep up your strength," Elijah said, and Giulia chuckled as he served them, her first, gentleman that he was.

"I have to say, meals like this really are a great incentive to put out," Giulia said, licking the curry sauce off her thumb as she cleaned a drop from the edge of her dish. Elijah chuckled, his eyes glinting in the sun as he shook his head. Giulia caught his eye, devouring him with her eyes. "Alright, I don't need that much incentive at all!" He laughed outright, and she smiled, tucking into her dinner. She fell quiet, caught up in enjoying the flavours of her meal – the creamy curry sauce, the beautiful salmon, the cherry-tomatoes that were like miniature bombs of flavour bursting on her tongue, the tang of the lemon and the heat of the chillies, the fragrance of the spices. She made Elijah laugh, her reactions a little too noisy and lusty to be entirely decent for the dinner-table, but it was good, and perfect in the heat, with the late-evening sun beating down, shimmering off the lake.

"So, what have you been doing today, Mr Mikaelson?" Giulia asked, crossing her ankles in his lap after she had done the dishes – she refused to let him help, as he had cooked for them, and he ruined her organisation in the dishwasher – and refreshing his wine-glass from the chilled, sweating bottle. He had his sketchbook out again; she had her notepad and a catalogue from the hardware store.

"Very little," Elijah confessed, looking tired. "Screening calls from Carafina."

"She misses you," Giulia smiled warmly. "She's not used to sharing you. What would she do if she knew I had you all to myself?"

"Most likely laugh in disbelief," Elijah said, sipping his wine, trailing his fingertips up her leg, tickling circles on the tender skin under her knee, making her wriggle and smile.

"That you're here in Virginia?" Giulia asked, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"That I'm here…with you," Elijah said, giving her a sidelong look that was at once hesitant and sly. He passed her the wine-glass, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb across her ankle, the dainty anklet clasped there.

"Traits you had as a human are heightened as a vampire," Giulia mused, glancing at Elijah. "Have you always been such a masochist when it comes to denying yourself what you want?"

"I prefer to think of it as self-discipline," he said, glancing at her with an ironic little smile, and Giulia smiled, shaking her head. They were veering toward dangerous territory – his family. Elijah's self-denial stemmed from his brother's reaction to anyone taking anything for their own happiness that did not conform to what he wanted.

"As I said, masochism," Giulia said, planning several teasing, loud kisses to his lips, smiling as he chuckled softly.

"I assure you, I receive no gratification from denying myself what I desire," Elijah sighed, sipping his wine, his expression becoming faraway and heart-breaking.

"So why do it?" Giulia prompted gently. Elijah gave her a sidelong look.

"The repercussions became too…debilitating to consider indulging myself, even at my most…lost, when such things would have been my salvation," Elijah said, sighing heavily. "The desire for something worth fighting for was always offset by the knowledge I had of its inevitable…debilitating end."

"Why did the ending have to be inevitable?" Giulia asked quietly, not defensive but curious, seeing the symmetry in their relationship, the game they were embroiled in, and Elijah's past. The way Elijah had described his family dynamics was absurd and pre-Machiavellian and flabbergasting. The black hole of dysfunction at the centre of the broken family was Klaus. The way Elijah had described Klaus' behaviour, even clinically detached as his voice had been, she had seen a visceral reaction in Elijah's body-language, the tension and quiet rage, the despair and helplessness. Klaus, from what she had heard of him, was a paranoid, narcissistic manipulator, malicious, self-absorbed, abusive to such a shocking degree, some of Elijah's stories had truly appalled her.

And she had read Game of Thrones; after Joffrey Baratheon baddies would have to work very hard to shock her.


A.N.: I'm looking forward to Giulia's future when I can have her and Katerina team up. I feel like they'd enjoy each other, once they got past the whole Salvatore brother crap. But then, Giulia's not one to take on other people's issues as her own…