"Aunt Juliette!" Davina exclaimed when I entered the attic. She jumped away from her painting and beamed at me.

"Okay, you seriously have to stop calling me that. You make me sound like an old lady." I defended myself, but grinned at her. The brunette ran over to me and engulfed me in a big hug. I put my arms around her with a small chuckle and stroked her hair.

"Well, you are dating my adoptive father." Davina raised her perfect eyebrows at me, humor in her blue eyes. "Would you prefer if I called you mom?" She laughed, and I hit her on the arm playfully.

"I would NOT. Jeez, I'm only three years older than you." I retorted with a wink.

"Something's wrong. I can sense it from you." The humorous gleam in Davina's eyes had disappeared and was replaced with wisdom and worry.

"And yet I'm the psychic one." I rolled my eyes, but settled down on the soft bed in the corner of the room. I put my hands on my face and sighed. "Marcel is being a dick." My voice was muffled by my hands as I threw myself down on my back.

"What did he do?" Davina sat down next to me on the bed and looked at me with big blue eyes. I found myself wondering how she could have grown up so fast. When Marcel and I had found her, she'd been a wreck. She'd been young and afraid, confused about what the witches had taught her.

"Niklaus Mikaelson is back in town. Marcel had a private talk with him today, and I wasn't invited." I explained, muttering. "Except it wasn't really private, because Diego and Thierry were allowed to come with him."

"There's something else you're not telling me." Davina was scrutinizing me with her eyes, and I was having an inner battle. I always told her everything but… Could I really tell her this?

"You have to promise me not to tell this to anyone." I held her gaze and she nodded. I sighed as a preparation for what I was about to say. "When I touched Klaus I… I felt something. Like a spark of electricity. And then I had a vision." I stopped myself, remembering the warmth I had felt in my heart at the memory.

Davina was looking at me silently, with calculating eyes. She always did that, which was surprising for someone of her age. With her mere 17 years, her wisdom was fascinating. Although I guess being a part of a twisted Harvest ritual did that to you.

"I saw me and Klaus dancing, and we seemed to be quite intimate." I continued, once again putting my face in my hands.

"That's not a good sign." The witch answered slowly.

"I know. I'm so sick of these visions. Even after three years, they haven't gotten less frequent. And I certainly can't control them any better. I became a vampire in the hope that they would disappear, but instead they've gotten stronger." I complained. "I'm such a failure."

A warm hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up to meet Davina's blue eyes. She held my gaze carefully while she spoke.

"You're not a failure. None of this is your fault." She said with a sad smile. "But you should probably not tell Marcel. I know you guys don't really keep secrets, but nothing good can come out of telling him."

I smiled back at my friend sadly and shook my head, my blonde bob cut hair bouncing into my eyes.

"I agree with you. But how am I supposed to stay away from Klaus? I mean, I've met the guy once and I already hate him. If I keep hating him, there's no way I'll fall in love with him, right?" I asked her, but Davina only shrugged. How would she know?


After telling Davina everything about Marcel and Jane-Anne Deveraux and everything that was going through my mind, I went for a stroll. I liked walking through the large streets of the french quarter at night. It made me feel as if I was still alive, like my first day in this city. I liked the way there was always music playing, the parades with disguised locals, and the painters who sped-painted tourists. I was tapping my shoes lightly to the rythm of the music when I saw a familiar head in the crowd. Cami was walking along the people, so I ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Juliette, hey!" She answered with a wide smile. Then her face was struck with recognition, and she frowned at me. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Yes, but you gave me the night off, remember?" I reminded her, but I felt my heart starting to beat rapidly in my chest. Had I mixed it up? But then Cami's face spread into a smile.

"Oh yeah, that's right."

"Jane-Anne died today." I told my boss, and her green eyes widened. "She was found in an alley. Her throat was slit."

"Oh my God." She breathed with a shocked face. "Is Sophie okay?"

"I don't know, and that's why I told you. I was hoping you might be on your way to the bar. I'm sure Sophie is grieving, and since you know her better than I do, you might be able to comfort her." I explained, and Cami nodded silently.

"Of course. I'll go there now." She said, turning around from me. "Thanks for telling me."

"See you tomorrow!" I shouted after her, but she was soon gone. After watching her blonde head disappear into the crowd, I walked towards the nearest painter. He was painting a large sinister face, with all sorts of colors such as copper, white, black and crimson. It was absolutely beautiful.

I felt his smell before I had the chance to vamp-speed away. My pulse quickened and my fleeing instincts kicked in, but I knew that there was nothing I could do.

"Hello, love." Klaus Mikaelson said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Aren't you at Marcel's little party?" I asked him bitterly, not meeting his eyes. The vampire let out a small chuckle.

"Having a spat with your lover?" He challenged. Lover? Who even says that anymore? Apparently I had put a bit too much emphasis on my boyfriend's name.I turned to him and gave him a sarcastic smile.

"That's none of your business, actually." Klaus's grin didn't fade, but he looked over at the painting before us.

"What do you think that the painting is about?" He asked me, changing the topic. I turned my gaze to the face, and felt my heart calm a little.

"I think that the painter is tired of his life. Tired of being someone he really doesn't want to be." I started, watching the old man load on more color on his brush and making large, confident stripes on the painting. "He's tired of being contained by a role that someone else has made up for him."

I felt Klaus's gaze on me as I spoke. It was intimidating, but I didn't know in which way. I didn't feel particularly threatened by his presence, really. I knew that he was dangerous and I had seen him kill (in the future, but whatever), yet that wasn't what scared me. What scared me was the way his blue eyes made my pulse quicken.

"He wants to be himself, but he knows that he can't. Because if he would show people his true self, nobody would love him." The impact of my own words struck me to the core. It felt as if every streak of paint that the painter made reflected my soul, and it felt relieving to get these feelings out. Even if it was to an ancient, psychopathic vampire. Speaking of him, I turned my eyes to the beautiful man. He was looking at the painting with a distant gaze, but I noticed his lower lip trembling. Apparently, my words had struck a nerve.

"What do you think, then?" I asked him, mentally kicking myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was supposed to stay away from this man, not ask him intimate questions about paintings.

Klaus regained his composed mask and looked back at me with a small smile.

"Oh, I think you summed it up perfectly, love." He chuckled, showing off dimples. The word love rolled off his tongue beautifully, as if he was born to say it.

"Listen up." I turned to him entirely, this time, scolding him with my glare. "I want you to stay away from Marcel. He's my problem to deal with, not yours." Klaus raised his brows at me, offended and surprised by my accusation.

"That's not up to you to decide, love." He gave me a meaning look, and I wanted to smack that mocking grin off his face. "I'm intrigued by you, Juliette. There's something special about you. I'm determined to find out what." His words sent a cold chill down my spine, but I barely managed to retort before he was gone.


I slept in the guestroom that night.


A woman was walking along a cold street. I couldn't make out where or when, but it seemed to be in present time. She looked behind her shoulder now and then, making sure she wasn't followed. Her heels made clattering sounds against the pavement in the dark alley. The pouring rain bounced against her raincoat, but she didn't seem to mind. She hurried down the street in the same stressed manner, being cautious at every turn. She seemed to be afraid of getting followed, which made me wonder who she really was. Soon, she arrived to a black door. She rang the doorbell, not minding the flicker of the streetlights and the shadows in the dark alley.

"Rachel?" The door opened slightly, and a voice whispered out from the crack.

"Yes, you divvy. Who else would it be?" The woman replied, sarcasm in her british voice. The door closed in her face, but was then opened widely. Rachel stepped in, and the other woman shut the door behind her.

As soon as they were both in the hallway, Rachel removed her coat. Her long, light pink hair was tied into a messy bun on the top of her head, and I realized how tall she was. The other woman watched her silently, seriousness in her eyes. Her own strawberry blonde hair was cut into a bob cut, much like mine, and it faded to a darker shade at the tips. This one was shorter, but on the other hand, she wasn't wearing heels.

"I had to be sure it was you. They've been watching us more closely recently." She told Rachel grimly, walking through the dark hall into the kitchen. The apartment was small, and the walls were falling apart, but it was surprisingly tidy.

"They've found us?" Rachel's voice was muffled by the sound of a screeching radio. The second woman walked over to it and shut it off, before turning around. She walked up to Rachel and pulled her into a hug.

"Yes. I've been worried about you." I realized that I had mistaken the strawberry blonde's accent as british, when it was in fact Australian.

"You shouldn't worry so much about me, Sofia." Rachel mumbled before pulling away. "Besides, I've found out some quite valuable information."

Sofia motioned to the wobbly table in the kitchen, and fetched two bloodbags from the fridge. They were vampires, of course. Everyone seems to be a vampire nowadays.

"You know my friend from New Orleans, Katie?" Rachel started explaining while Sofia poured the blood into two glasses. Huh, fancy vampires.

"The witch?" Sofia raised her brows. "I wouldn't call her a friend, exactly. You're just using her for spells."

"Ha-ha. Let me get to the point." Rachel glared at her friend before continuing. "Her boyfriend is a vampire, and he has mentioned something that could save both of our lives."

"And what is that?" Sofia asked, curiousness glowing in her blue eyes.

"His king, Marcel Gerard, has a powerful ally. A psychic vampire, called Juliette Walters. Apparently, she can see the future and the past." Rachel at last finished, a small smile on her face. Sofia's lips broke into a wide beam.

"She could be a very powerful weapon."

"Indeed, she could."


"Don't get me wrong. I'm still pissed at you." I warned Marcel the following day. He sighed and scratched his head. "But, I had a very worrying vision last night." I continued, and his expression softened.

"What?" He asked, his eyes suddenly concerned.

"I saw two vampires. I have no idea where they were, but I know that one of them was British, and the other was Australian." I started explaining. Marcel paced around our bed, and his itchy behavior made want to punch him.

"They were talking about me. They knew about my power. And the worst part; they were speaking of using me as a weapon." I didn't mention the part where Thierry was concerned. Marcel still didn't know about Thierry and Katie, and I was very set on dealing with that issue myself. Thierry was soon about to get a real beating from me.

"How could they possibly know? Davina had done spells to conceal you from the witches. They shouldn't be able to sense your power." Marcel pondered, watching me intently with his pretty, brown eyes.

"I don't know." I stopped and frowned at him. "Do you think this could have anything to do with Klaus's return?"

"No." Marcel shook his head. "He doesn't know about you. Otherwise he would've already kidnapped you and compelled you to do his bidding." This time he stopped, and something changed in his eyes.

"This is why I'm trying so hard to protect you, Juliette. I don't think that you're weak. I never could. But no one can defeat Klaus. The reason why I'm trying to protect you is because I know him, and I can persuade him to give up on you." He walked up to me and took my hand. I didn't pull it away this time.

"I understand that." I told him. He gave me his famous puppy eyes, and I felt my heart melt. "Alright, I'll forgive you. But only if you promise to at least tell me what's going on with Klaus after your secret meetings." I argued. Marcel broke into a grin and pecked me on the lips.

"Done." A pause. "I won't give you bodyguards because of the vision you just had, since I am not ready to fight with you again." He added, and I chuckled. He knew me after all. "But, I want you to be careful, okay?"

"I will. Besides, there's no way to know when this meeting between the two vampires occurred. It might happen in three years, or twenty." I comforted both him and myself, shaking off the creepy feeling that was still left from the vision.

"You're right. See you later for lunch?" Marcel asked me, and I squeezed his hand.

"Sure. I love you." I kissed him on the mouth and savored the taste of his lips. Even though it hadn't even been 24 hours since our fight, I had missed him. He smiled against my lips and I laughed when a realization hit me. I was wearing red lipstick. I broke free from Marcel and managed not to laugh at the sight.

"I love you more." He said, unaware of the fact that he looked somewhat like a crossbreed of a clown and a drag-queen. I decided not to tell him as I left the room, laughing inwardly at the picture of Thierry or Diego mocking him. Oh right, Thierry. I had to find that asshole and give him a real scolding.