Chapter Two
A/N: Hey guys! Another quick update for you all :) I've come to the conclusion that while I'm on holidays I'll be posting updates more frequently but they'll be shorter chapter so you won't have to wait as long. When school starts again though it'll probably be a longer wait but longer chapters as well :) I hope you enjoy this one, because I think the plot will really start moving along after this. I have a lot of ideas ready, so hopefully I can execute them right. Anyways, I won't bother you all anymore :) Please favourite, follow and review. They all mean a ton and give me with the motivation to continue.
Love, Lexi Salvatore - Foxx :) x
Blinking her eyes open blearily, Cara took in her surroundings. She seemed to be in a warehouse of sorts, crate upon crate stacked up against the walls. The air was musty and thick with dust and heat, old mildew lining the cracks in the floor with an odor unlike that of a rubbish truck. Sitting up stiffly, she rubbed her neck subconsciously. She could still feel a faint ache where crusted blood lined what she assumed was a bite wound…she couldn't really remember much. Her memories of the past few hours were hazy, and she was beginning to give herself a headache just trying to recall what she had for breakfast that very same morning.
"You're awake," a gruff voice called from the darkness. "About time."
"Who the hell are you?" Cara called into the darkness, feeling her heart palpitate with fear. Moments later she felt a gust of air rush past her. The stench of cigarettes flooded her senses and she coughed for a moment, wanting to regain some more space within her personal bubble. She was never one to be intimate with others, and any form of close proximity was pushing her boundaries.
Cara shuddered as she felt the man's tongue on her neck, flinching when his teeth scraped against the wound.
"I won't ask you again, who are you." This time it wasn't a question. She was adamant about getting an answer, and this was her commanding him to tell her.
"Shhhhhhhh," he whispered, snake-like tongue flicking in and out. "Just let me have one more taste…" His voice drifted off to a mere whisper, hunger and bloodlust stealing away any rational thoughts he may have once had. It didn't help him that she was beautiful, ivory skin and dark brown hair to contrast. Hazel eyes that showed fear yet were strong-willed and full of powerful insight.
It was a shame he'd probably kill her.
Klaus turned his head abruptly as a scream echoed down the main street. It sounded like a woman's, in pain and in need. Turning his head once more in order to locate in which direction it was coming from, he was relieved yet disappointed to see that it was only a young girl, jumping up and down in her excitement. Rolling his eyes, he turned to Elijah, lips pursed.
"Now, Elijah, I'd quite like to return to my canvas. No offense, brother, but it's much more beautiful than you are."
"I'm afraid not, Niklaus. You see, I've already contacted Marcel and he's on his way as we speak with one of the witches." Unlike Klaus, Elijah had been thinking ahead. Despite the fact that this girl may not be entirely important, the oldest Mikaelson brother had an assiduous feeling that her survival was of the utmost importance.
"You understand my dislike for the witches, brother. I doubt you're foolish enough to intentionally make me angry, so why would you invite one?" The hybrid's eyes narrowed menacingly, ready to use any means necessary to end this nonsense once and for all. What was he doing, mindlessly chasing a mere mortal, utterly mundane girl? She wasn't worth an ounce of his time.
"Now, now, brother, let's not forget that the witches aren't too fond of you either. I can assure you, she is simply here to help." Elijah didn't bother to take the time to correct his younger brother; that it was Marcel, not he, who invited the witch. It wasn't worth the anger and dispute that would result from something Elijah himself deemed trivial. "Speaking of which, there they are now."
Weaving between the disabled vehicles and crowds of anxious bystanders, Marcel emerged, seemingly alone. Soon after though, a young woman marched confidently from the shade of the towering buildings.
Her head was made entirely of flames, red-hot fire licking its way down her shoulders to just above her waist. Her eyes were like the forests back in Mystic Falls, lush and green, but also dark and mysterious, holding many a secret that were being begged to be told.
"Klaus, Elijah." Marcel stated simply, not bothering with formal greetings. After Klaus had overthrown Marcel and taken control of the Quarter, the hybrid, including the rest of his family that were present in New Orleans, had been walking on eggshells around one another.
The tension in the space between the three vampires and the witch grew nearly unbearable, and it was Marcel that spoke once more. "This is Lucida, a self-serving witch from the other side of town." He elaborated no more.
"Self-serving?" The oldest Mikaelson's voice rose in question, still incredibly skeptical, though nothing like his younger brother. Most witches belonged to covens, and it was rare to have one working on their own, and especially rare to have one willing to help the vampires of the city, much less the Original family. Elijah's thoughts paused for a moment. What is this witch getting in return? What has Marcel said to her? As the silence ensued these thoughts plagued his mind and he grew more and more wary of Lucida.
"Meaning she works for herself," she replied in Marcel's stead. She could sense his unease and wanted to make her first impression a lasting one. She didn't want to give too many of her motives away, but she was willing to put on any façade in order to get what she wanted. What she needed.
"What do you need?"
