Chapter Seventeen

Rue Descartes

Paris, France

8:32pm

The colourful adornments on the record store make it easy to spot as soon as Katherine and Damon turn down the Rue Descartes. The streetlights cast a noir-like sheen as dusk falls over the city. It would be beautiful if shared with the right person. Damon turns away, studying the darkening street.

"Which store do you think she went into?" Katherine questions. Their options consist of a shabby looking pawnshop on one side and a sad looking patisserie on the other.

Damon points immediately to the pawnshop where a sign dangles crookedly from the window; the word 'Fermé' indicating the store is closed. "There," he states definitively.

Katherine concentrates for a moment, listening. "There's still someone in there," she tells him. She reaches for the weathered silver handle and wrenches the door open with enough force to snap the rudimentary locking mechanism.

When they step inside, Damon's eyes immediately seek out the proprietor who reacts to Katherine not only with recognition, but with a flash of fear in his eyes.

"You…" He trails off, staring at Katherine. "But you are supposed to be…"

Katherine's lips curve up into one of her more fearsome smiles. "Mort?"

Damon flinches at the French for 'death' but recovers quickly, striding across the room to meet the proprietor. The man is as human as he is, and not near as strong; Damon easily lifts him out of his chair by the throat, shoving him up against the wall. "What did you do to her?" he screams. The French he learned a century ago in the dimly lit library of his father's plantation rolls easily off his tongue. "What did you do?"

Gasping for breath, the man frantically looks to Katherine as if to appeal for help, but she makes a point of studying her nails. "I'd answer him," she replies stiffly. "He's not very patient."

"She…" the man chokes, but Damon's grip on his throat is too strong. Damon lets go of him and the man slides down the wall, panting.

Damon allows him a moment to catch his breath, instead turning his attention to the desk. He yanks drawers out, rifling through the papers for any possible clue to Elena's whereabouts; he finds a few sprigs of dried vervain, which he holds up wordlessly for Katherine to see, then throws carelessly on the desk. Knowing the man can't be compelled, he yanks open the bottom drawer, his eye catching a glint of metal between the smattering of half chewed pens and packs of gum. It's a pistol, antiquated with a beautifully filigreed handle. He turns it over in his hand, reminded of the one his father gave him on his sixteenth birthday. He'd kept that damned thing for years but never once bothered to use the impractical device.

Damon swallows, checking to see that it is loaded, then grips it firmly in his hands, turning the gun on the pathetic man cowering in the corner.

"Tell me," he demands.

"I…"

His finger hovers over the trigger, the gun pointed directly at the man's kneecap.

He turns an ashen shade of white and the words begin to spill out in rapid, panicked French. "I see many things come in here, people, objects." He nods his head towards Katherine. "She came in with a daylight ring—I knew Annalise would want to see it— would want to know how she came by it, so I—"

"Annalise is involved?" Katherine cuts in, suddenly interested in the proceedings.

"The Slayer has all but pushed Annalise and her vampires from the city of Paris," the man squeals. Droplets of sweat drip from his brow while his eyes move from Katherine to Damon filled with confusion and fear. "She has retreated to la banlieue where there are less tourists; the people there are more suspicious—harder to feed from. I see many desperate people; runaways, foreigners, they are the ones desperate enough to venture so far from Paris for a few Euros." He smiles faintly. "Annalise rewards me well for my work."

His words are the match to the brittle tinder of Damon's barely held together rage. The gun goes off with a crack and the man screams as the bullet pierces his kneecap.

"Where did you send her?" Damon yells over the man's screams. "Where can we find Annalise? Tell me!"

"Clichy-sous-Bois," the man whimpers. "Please, I—"

"Where in Clichy-sous-Bois?" He continues, unsympathetic to the man's screams.

"I don't know," he sobs. "I gave her directions to the corner of Allée des Jonquilles and the Allée des Pommiers, but a vampire was supposed to intercept her and take her to Annalise." His eyes fill with fear as he looks as Katherine. "I don't understand. They were supposed to kill you, not turn you."

The gun trembles in Damon's fingers and for half a second, he sees the first man he ever killed in a skirmish in 1862 near Manassas: a frightened boy, no older than Stefan, his fair hair plastered against his forehead. It's a face he will never, ever forget.

But then Katherine turns her head just so and his sympathy is gone as quickly as it came upon him. All he can see is Elena: Elena elbowing him, her head thrown back in laugher; Elena waist deep in water stubbornly staring him down; Elena torn to pieces by feral vampires.

His basest instincts take over and he presses the trigger.

Clichy-sous-Bois

Paris, France

8:47pm

With only a split second to decide whether or not it is to her benefit to pretend to be Katherine, Elena takes in the woman's malicious grin and chooses not.

She shakes her head, hoping to avoid any association with her doppelganger. "Parlez anglais?"

The vampire blinks once with a pair of lovely clear blue eyes, then seizes Elena roughly by the arm, dragging her close. Elena struggles against the bruising grip to no avail. The woman says something in French, her words so quick the only thing Elena catches is 'Katherine.' She shakes her head vigorously, not understanding.

The vampire regards her carefully; veins beginning to spread across her face, she sniffs once, allowing Elena a glimpse of her fangs as they elongate. Elena shrinks back, but the woman drags her wrist towards her mouth and bites down.

Elena winces as the woman draws in a swallow of her blood, then releases her wrist, though she keeps a firm hold on Elena's shoulder.

"Human," she states, licking a few errant drops of blood from her lips. She stares at Elena in fascination. "You must come to Annalise." She wrenches Elena's arm, dragging her down the street and into an abandoned warehouse.

Elena struggles, attempting to gain a position effective to incapacitate her captor long enough to make a run for it.

"Enough!" the vampire finally cries. She grasps Elena by the head and brings it back roughly against the side of the wall. Elena has only half a second to realize what is happening before everything goes dark.

Rue Descartes

Paris, France

8:50pm

Katherine surveys the scene with an expression of mild interest. "We'd better get out of here before someone comes to investigate the gun shots."

Damon opens the chamber of the gun, dumping the bullets onto the desk. "Let's go," he remarks with a curt nod.

The door swings shut behind them, not a single last look spared for the corpse on the floor. Outside, Damon wipes the gun clean with his shirt and casually drops it into the nearest sewer grate. He fumbles for his phone, rapidly punching the buttons to dial Faith.

"Turn around," Damon orders as soon as she answers. "Meet us in Clichy-sous-Bois."

"What?"

Damon lets out a frustrated breath. "The pawn shop owner sent her into a nest of waiting vampires. Call in your Slayers or whoever the hell it is you have and meet us there."

Faith curses under her breath. "I'll call Martine right now. But Damon, we're stuck in traffic; it's going to be—"

"I don't care," Damon cuts her off. "Just get there as fast as you can." He hangs up the phone, running a hand through his errant hair. His grip on his emotions is rapidly starting to slip with the exhaustion and stress. His vampire mind could've either pushed it away or used it to his advantage, but his human one feels like he is rapidly reaching the breaking point.

"It'll be faster if we take the train," Katherine suggests, jerking her head up the street towards the metro.

"Any ideas where Annalise might be hiding out?" he asks as they jog down the stairs and onto the platform.

"A few." Katherine makes a face at the overflowing trash bins and the neon coloured graffiti on the walls. "God I hate the subway."

Damon snaps his fingers in front of her face impatiently. "Focus, Katherine. Think."

She bats his hand out of her face peevishly. "Look, I haven't even been in the vicinity of Clichy-sous-Bois in centuries. Our best bet is to get in touch with Pierre and hope he knows something."

"We don't have time for that. Every second longer this fucking train takes is another minute that costs Elena." Damon angrily kicks at the trash bin, but it's bolted to the ground and does far more damage to his foot.

Hearing the train begin approach, he eagerly attempts to put weight on his foot, only to pull it back up with a small whimper.

Katherine studies him, biting her lip. "There's a chance she's already dead. I think you know that."

Damon makes a sudden start towards her, but she grabs him by the shoulders holding him firmly. "Damon, you need to calm the fuck down. You're—"

The rest of her words are swallowed by the screech of the train as it grinds to a halt. Damon moves as soon as the doors hiss open, bumping her with his shoulder as he limps past. Once on the train, he collapses into a seat, his arms crossed, his shoulders taunt.

Katherine gracefully folds herself into the seat next to him. Between her haughty expression and her designer stilettos, she looks decidedly out of place in the cracked orange plastic seat of a mostly deserted train. She wrinkles her nose at the lingering scent of garbage and body odour, but spares him her complaints.

"Let me heal your foot," she offers, almost gently. "I think you might've broken it."

"No," he snarls harshly.

"You're not any good to her like this," Katherine urges. "God, you're not any good to anyone like this." She reaches into her hair, pulling out a bobby pin and scraping it across the soft skin of her neck. Firmly, she takes Damon's head and guides it so his forehead rests against the side of her neck, just above the puncture.

To anyone on the train who might spare them a look, they appear only a pair of lovers, enjoying an evening in Paris. Damon flinches, but Katherine holds him firmly. "Just drink," she instructs quietly. "You'll be able to function again if you just drink."

Damon's bright eyes contemplate the bubble of blood seeping from Katherine's soft skin. He knows this feeling. He remembers 1864 like it was yesterday; the night he ran, breathless, through the woods with the crisp fall air of the evening on his skin. And the girl he chased, her laughter echoing behind her.

"Let me chase you forever," he'd pleaded. God, he was so enraptured with her, so intoxicatingly in love he'd have done anything to be with her. "Feed me your blood."

"I will not feed you Damon." She'd arched her beautiful slender neck, her voice dripping with sultry promises. "If you want it, take it. It is your choice to make."

His foot throbs with pain and now, as he did then, he just wants it all to go away: the pain, the suffering, the burden of just being himself. He stares at the gleaming ruby coloured drops with wide blue eyes. He should refuse, but he doesn't, because some part of him knows she's right and for just a second, she can make it all better. Gradually, he lowers his mouth to her neck, carefully siphoning up the drips of blood.

Clichy-sous-Bois

Paris, France

9:15pm

The first thing Elena hears is the sound of unfamiliar voices, the low rumble of French rising and falling to her untrained ear. She concentrates on trying to assess her surroundings before they figure out she is awake.

She presumes she's lying on a dirt floor; she can smell the earth beneath her, feel the grains of soil beneath her cheek. Above her, she can pick out two female voices. There is silence for a moment, then a high laugh and a series of words tumble from someone's lips, none of them familiar until she catches a name. Damon Salvatore.

All the breath rushes from her lungs and the chatter stops almost immediately, followed by the thud of footsteps on the hard earth, moving towards her.

A hand grasps her shoulder, tugging her up. Elena blinks, meeting a pair of dark grey eyes.

"Ah, you're awake, chéri," a dark haired woman remarks, smiling broadly. "Excellent."

Elena's eyes fly around the room, trying to figure out where she is being held. It appears to be a cavern of some kind, the walls a porous stone. Clearly someone has made an effort to make it habitable as there are two levels, the one second separated by a metal railing. Around her is a smattering of couches and tables, all dimly lit by what appear to be battery-operated lamps. There's only one entrance, a tunnel, which leads into darkness.

Elena struggles against the woman's grip, but she holds her firmly by the wrists.

"Imagine my surprise," the woman lulls in slightly accented English, "When Daphne went on an errand to fetch me dinner and came back with Katherine Pierce's doppelganger." She smiles widely. "I had heard a rumour you existed but I never in my wildest dreams thought you might stumble into my hands. What a lucky day indeed."

"Please," Elena begs, trying as best she can to play the clueless human. "Let me go. I don't know what you're talking about."

The woman clucks her tongue, shoving Elena onto a dust coloured couch. "I want to believe you, chéri. But," she reaches into her pocket and dangles Elena's vervain bracelet from the tips of her fingertips. "Given I found you wearing a vervain infused bracelet and Damon Salvatore's daylight ring, I have an awfully hard time believing that." She crouches down so she and Elena are eye to eye. "I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them truthfully," she requests soothingly.

Elena tries to resist at first, but the woman's compulsion is strong and it doesn't take long for her thoughts to become overpowered. "I'm going to answer your questions truthfully," she repeats dreamily.

"Bien," the woman exclaims with a clap of her hands. "Daphne, bring me Damon's ring please," she calls over her shoulder.

With a flourish, the blonde haired woman who captured her appears, a sinister grin on her face and the chain with Damon's ring dangling from her fingers.

"Who are you?" Elena asks. "How do you know Damon?"

"Oh, how rude of me. I ought to have made introductions," the woman replies. Her thick, dark hair is piled on top of her head in a rather old fashioned looking up-do, contrasting with her modern skinny jeans tucked into a pair of knee high boots. "I am Annalise Thierry. Katherine Pierce is most unfortunately, an old former friend, as well as my sire," she states regally. She gestures to the other woman. "And this is Daphne LeGrand. She is…how shall I put it in English? Damon's former paramour perhaps?" She looks to Daphne for confirmation.

"Spurned paramour is more like it," Daphne adds with a decisive sniff. Her voice is an obnoxious, high-pitched whine. "I can't wait to get my hands on that—"

Annalise holds up a hand to silence her. "Enough Daphne." She leans in close to Elena. "Now tell me child, what is your name?"

"Elena," she replies curtly, trying to get a read on these vampires.

With her waist length blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Daphne is traditionally beautiful, that is for certain, but for a man whose past lovers included Vivien Leigh and Zelda Fitzgerald, it seems odd Damon would lower his standards to someone who is obviously no more than someone else's unintelligent lackey.

Elena's eyes fall on Annalise, who obviously is the one holding the power and intelligence. Is it possible he was using Daphne to get to her, and if so, why?

Annalise rolls her eyes. "We're being difficult I see. What is you full name?"

"Elena Carina Gilbert." She frowns. "And I'm eighteen; I'm not a child."

Annalise laughs. "You might be eighteen chéri but I am two hundred and forty one. To me, you are indeed a child. Tell me, how is it you came by this ring?"

She takes it from Daphne, dangling it in front of Elena's face. She makes a move to snatch it from her, but Annalise is much quicker and pulls it away from her grasp.

"Damon gave it to me," Elena replies sullenly.

"Why?"

She swallows, fighting the tears coming to her eyes. "To protect me."

Annalise arches an eyebrow. "How?"

Elena shrugs, blinking away her tears. "He said to use it if I needed help. Obviously it backfired."

Annalise sighs. "How do you know him?"

Elena thinks for a moment, trying to give the least amount of ammunition against them as possible. The last thing she wants to do in front of someone like Daphne is admit to being his lover. "I used to date his brother," she states. After all, it is a form of the truth.

"And where is he?" Daphne cuts in eagerly.

"I think Stefan is in Russia somewhere," Elena answers. "I don't know; I haven't seen him in months."

Daphne flashes towards her, her beautiful mouth twists into an ugly expression of rage. "I meant Damon!" she snaps, reaching for Elena. "Answer me, you little—"

Annalise cuts Daphne off abruptly by backhanding her sharply across the face, her expression unnervingly even tempered. Daphne stumbles back, her fangs bursting from her mouth.

"Daphne, if you cannot handle yourself, I suggest you leave." Annalise eyes Elena critically. "I can't have you frightening the poor thing."

Elena bristles at the insinuation of fear. Ordinary vampires like Daphne and Annalise hardly rate for her anymore, not after facing down Klaus and certainly not after having been one herself. "I'm not frightened," she glowers. "I'm exhausted and hungry, but I'm not afraid of you."

Annalise pats her cheek. "My, you do have Katherine's spirit, don't you?" She sits down next to Elena, tucking her leg beneath her, like they are just a pair of girls having an afternoon chat. "Tell me, chéri, do you know her?"

Elena nods.

"Where might I find her?" Her voice is casual but still incredibly patronizing.

"She's in Italy," Elena confesses languidly.

"Where in Italy?" Annalise asks eagerly.

"Rome."

"And Damon? Is he with her?"

"No."

Annalise clucks her tongue, considering this for a moment. "And if I were to alert Damon that I had you in my possession, would he come for you?"

Elena raises her chin, staring the two women down with all the strength she can muster. "Without a doubt."

Annalise claps her hands with enthusiasm. "Excellent. Let us speed up the process a bit. Where might I find him?"

Elena nearly laughs at this question. "By all means, find him," she instructs. "He's somewhere in Italy—with the Slayer."

"La salope petite—"

Elena has little time to enjoy her small victory as Daphne's hand comes at her, slapping her across the face hard enough to send her flying off the edge of the couch.

"Daphne!" Annalise admonishes, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her into a stool across the room. She continues to lecture her in rapid French while Elena sits up, gingerly wiping the blood from her mouth. She flexes her jaw a few times, just to ensure it isn't broken.

Annalise comes to stand over her, a hard look in her eyes. She easily lifts Elena back up and sets her onto the couch. "Do you know how long I have ruled Paris, ma chéri?"

"No?" Elena replies quizzically, rubbing her chin where Daphne hit her. Her jaw doesn't seem to be broken, but it will definitely bruise.

"I have run this city since 1806 and I have lived in it since my birth in 1770. Men like Robespierre, Napoleon, Hitler, these humans matter little to me for they come and go in the blink of an eye while I continue to lead the vampires of this city. And do you know what I have learned?'

"The best ways to behead someone?" Elena suggests flippantly. "Pity you missed out on Tudor England."

Annalise rolls her eyes. "No, what I have learned, ma chéri, is how to adapt to new regimes. I know when we ought to retreat and when we ought to stand and fight. Make no mistake, I do retreat when I must, and lately the Slayer has been most…arrogant. But I have been patient and finally I am rewarded. Finally, I have the key to ending the Slayer and taking back Paris."

"So what? You're going to lure Damon here after me and hope he brings along the Slayer?" Elena growls, bored of her little speech. "Great plan. I'm sure that'll end well. You do know even if you kill her, there's more than one of them, right?"

Annalise shoots her an irritated look but ignores her. "Francois?" she calls over her shoulder. "I can hear you in the annex. Come here please."

There's a blur and figure comes to stand next to Annalise.

"Oui?" he asks enthusiastically. Tall and gangly, the man Annalise calls Francois reminds Elena a bit of a pelican, all angles and no softness. When he swallows, his enormous Adam's apple bobs like rat being digested by a snake.

"Go to my office," Annalise instructs. "In the bottom drawer of my desk is green file. Inside it you will find a phone number. I want you to dial it and tell whoever picks up that you are calling on behalf of Annalise Thierry." She regards Elena with a smile that lights up her entire face. "Tell them I have the doppelganger and I would like to negotiate terms with Klaus."

Clichy-sous-Bois

Paris, France

9:22pm

"Give me your phone," Katherine demands as soon as she and Damon emerge from the metro.

"Why?"

"I'm calling Pierre."

"You really think that'll work?"

Katherine rolls her eyes. "I know it will. Sire bond, remember?"

Damon makes an expression of disgust and hands over Buffy's cell phone. Katherine immediately punches a series of numbers and puts the phone on speaker so Damon can hear.

It rings a few times before Pierre's high-pitched voice answers.

"'Ello?"

"C'est Katherine," she identifies herself briskly.

Pierre lets out a high-pitched squeal that makes Damon wince.

"Tais-toi," Katherine orders, silencing him quickly. "Where is Daphne? I need to find her and Annalise right now."

Pierre doesn't skip a beat. "Probably in Clichy-sous-Bois. There's a warehouse at 22 Allée Curel that Annalise prefers; it has catacombs access."

"And where are you?"

"I am not far from there myself."

"Excellent. Meet me there in ten minutes," she instructs, ignoring Damon violently shaking his head no.

"Oui," Pierre replies, hanging up the phone with a soft click.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Damon shouts, startling a few pigeons that are perched on top of a trash bin nearby.

"Do you or do you not want to find Elena?" Katherine puts her hands on her hips, accusingly. "Because I am not taking on Annalise without backup, and there is no telling how long Faith and Elijah and whoever the hell else they show up with will take." She turns on her heel and begins striding down the street. Damon follows, knowing he has no other choice.

It doesn't take them long to reach the Allée Curel. True to his sire-bonded form, Pierre is already waiting for them, loitering in front of a warehouse tucked behind a few newer buildings. Damon looks it over carefully; it's obviously abandoned: about 4 stories high, with most of the windows boarded up. From their current location he spots two separate doors, the front one shut with a rusted over bolt. The side door, however, looks like it sees more regular use.

"Katherine!" Pierre exclaims as soon as he spots them. His glee subsides when his eyes fall on Damon glowering next to her. "Why did you bring him?" he spits nastily.

Katherine holds up a hand to silence him, pausing to listen for a moment. When she doesn't hear anything, she lowers her hand. "I know you don't like Damon," she tells Pierre as if he is a small child, "But it would make me very happy if you would not jeopardise this entire thing over whatever the hell it is he did to Daphne."

Pierre nods, but does not relent in his scowling at Damon. "What is it you need, mon amour?"

Damon chortles at the endearment, receiving a hard elbow in the gut from Katherine.

"I need you to find something out for me. Ideally, I need you to get me close enough that I can hear Annalise. Is that something you can do?"

Pierre nods. "I checked with Danielle before I left. She said Annalise has called her inner circle to the cavern—the one below this building—because something really important had come up." Pierre glances from Damon to Katherine. "I presume you both know what that is."

"God, you are so much smarter than Daphne," Damon quips.

"We're pretty sure Annalise has my doppelganger," Katherine explains. Pierre's expression remains even; if he is surprized by this information, he hides it well. "What we need you to do is get me close enough to hear them, and then go in and scope out the situation for me. I need to know what condition she's in, how many vampires are down there, and if they've alerted Klaus. Can you do that?"

Pierre nods. "I am not a favourite of Annalise, but my sister's position in her hierarchy will help. Even if I fail, I know a place where you should be able to hear them, but they won't be able to hear you." Pierre looks from Damon to Katherine with vulnerable brown eyes. "There is only thing I want from you in return."

Damon rolls his eyes. "Let me guess, an apology?"

"Actually," Pierre continues, "What I want is a promise." He shoots Katherine a pleading look. "Promise me you won't hurt Daphne. I know she's…difficult. But she's still my sister."

Katherine doesn't miss a beat. "I promise I will not hurt Daphne," she says with a flourish of fake sincerity.

"Great. Let's go." Damon moves toward the door, only to be wrenched back by Katherine's relentless grip.

"You are not going in there."

Damon's eyes flare. "Like hell I'm not."

"Damon…" Katherine sighs, attempting a pleading look with her eyes that would be laughable if the situation weren't so dire.

Damon brushes right past her, though Katherine retains her grip on him. "That is not going to work on me. Not from you."

"Think about what you're doing," Katherine urges. "You'd be better off waiting for Elijah and Faith."

"I texted them the address. And you're an idiot if you think that I'm going to stay out here another second knowing Elena is in there."

His eyes meet hers with such desperation in them that Katherine knows she has no choice to relent and let go of his arm. "You'd better not fuck this up," she warns. "I mean it, Damon. We're doing this my way."

Elena visibly blanches. The odds should've been in her favour; in her understanding, only a handful of vampires know anything about Klaus. But somewhere, a chimpanzee with a computer must've managed to produce Hamlet because today is truly not her lucky day.

Francois nods briskly and leaves the room with a blur. Perched on a stool across the room, Daphne pouts, saying something to Annalise in French. Even though she doesn't understand the words, Elena can definitely tell she's whining.

Annalise attempts to placate her at length, her voice soothing as she presumably outlines her plan. Elena can make out the occasional 'Katherine,' 'Damon,' and 'Klaus' but that is all she understands.

Her mind whirls for a way to get herself out of this before Klaus shows up. She has no weapons, but she can still speak. "It wouldn't do you any good to hand me over to Klaus," she suggests, her voice clear and bored. If she is careful enough, she can fake her way through this. After all, she managed it with Rebekah, a far more fearsome opponent. "He doesn't negotiate. He'll just take me and kill you."

Annalise blurs across the room, halting in front of Elena with wide eyes. "What do you know of Klaus?"

Elena smiles ironically. After all, she's been compelled to tell the truth. "I know he's ruthless. I know that he's building an army of hybrids far more powerful than any of your vampires. I know that even if you're convinced handing me over will be enough to negotiate help with the Slayer, he'll never agree to it. I know that even if he manages to get his hands on Katherine, he'd never give her up." She straightens, fixing Annalise with an even stare. "And I know that if you're thinking you can lure Katherine here for Damon, she'll never come. She could care less what happens to him."

Annalise raises her eyebrows. "My, you're awfully clever aren't you? Just like Katherine. It didn't serve her well either."

"Tell Francois not to call Klaus," Elena urges. "Negotiate with me instead."

"And what, pray tell, could you possibly have to bargain with?" Annalise laughs, shooting an amused glance at Daphne, as if to say 'can you believe this?'

Elena carries on, not in the least discouraged. "You want the Slayer out of your way? I know the head Slayer. I can arrange that. You want Katherine? I could lure her here no problem," Elena promises. "Cut out the middleman, you don't even need to bother with Damon or Klaus."

Please keep him out of this, she begs silently.

Annalise crosses her arms, a grin spreading across her face. "You are very bright, chéri. But I'm afraid I will have to call your bluff. You see, I've promised Daphne she will have her revenge on Damon." She leans in close to Elena, her breath tickling her ear. "And I always keep my promises." Elena flinches, realizing her blunder. In trying to keep Damon safe, she might as well have broadcasted her greatest weakness.

"You are most clever my dear. But just not clever enough." She clucks her tongue triumphantly. "Klaus won't kill me. Who would run Paris in my steed? I'm afraid that you are out of luck."

Elena tosses her head as if this whole endeavour matters little to her. "Fine, call Klaus. It's inconvenient, but it doesn't matter that much to me; I know for a fact he's not going to kill me. But you on the other hand—do you really think you're not expendable to him? That he wouldn't hesitate to kill you and put someone else in your place?" Elena leans back, watching Annalise's face beginning to contort with anger. Inwardly, she beams with triumph because years of cheerleading have taught her this means she's getting to her. She goes in for the kill. "I'm sure he's got a sire-bonded hybrid all ready to go. He could stick one here and know for a fact he or she will do exactly as he asks and rid the city of your pesky Slayer to boot." She grins with triumph. "The second you hand me over, you'll have exceeded your usefulness."

"Silence!" Annalise reels on her. Breathing raggedly, she leans down so they are eye to eye again. "You know what I wonder, little Elena? Why would Damon give his daylight ring— a ring essential to his survival—to a mere slip of a girl who is nothing more to him than his brother's ex." Annalise grins malevolently and Elena knows she underestimated her. "Tell me, chéri, why would he do something like that?"

Elena gulps, her compulsion is urging her to answer. Across the room, Daphne has stopped studying her nails, suddenly very interested in the conversation. Elena's mouth opens to answer, but she is saved by a voice, echoing from the tunnel.

"C'est moi," someone calls out. "Pierre."

Annalise holds up a hand indicating Elena to be silent; gratefully she swallows her words.

A man emerges into the dim light of the cavern from the shadows of the tunnel. Immediately, Elena can see his resemblance to Daphne with his dishevelled blonde hair and high arched cheekbones. His expression, however, is remarkably more pleasant.

"Katherine!" he exclaims as soon as his gaze falls on Elena. She barely has time to pull back in surprize as he blurs towards her, only to be plucked, almost out of thin air, by Annalise.

"She is not Katherine," Annalise explains in English. "She is human. But it is uncanny, isn't it?"

"Incroyable," Pierre lets out breathlessly. He walks around the couch, studying Elena carefully. As Annalise momentarily turns her attention to Daphne, replying in French, he gives the puzzled Elena a small wink.

Katherine elbows Damon, trying to get him to breathe more quietly, a difficult endeavour given they are crammed into a tiny, limestone crevice. By the light of his phone, he shoots her an irritated look, instead flicking his eyebrows towards the end of the tunnel.

Is she okay? he mouths.

Katherine holds up a finger, concentrating again on listening for Elena, who remains quiet as those around her converse in hasty French.

"If I may ask, Pierre," Annalise phrases with deadly sweetness. "How did you get past Juliette? I made it very clear to her that this meeting was open to only Francois, Daphne, and myself."

Katherine grins. The guard, Juliette, was young and no match for her five hundred years. Annalise has clearly become sloppy as her single guard is currently desiccating in a dumpster behind the warehouse.

"She was nowhere to be found when I arrived," Pierre explains smoothly. "I only came down here looking for Daphne."

"What did you need, brother?" Daphne sighs with sisterly irritation.

Pierre pauses for a moment but he is quick on his feet. That is, after all, why Katherine chose to turn him all those years ago in the first place. "Only to tell you that Gerard would like you to drop by La Liber tonight. He said something you ordered came in."

"That certainly does not warrant such an interruption," Annalise chides, a warning in her voice. "But since you're here—this is Katherine's doppelganger." There's some rustling Katherine presumes as movement across the room. "Elena, this is Pierre LeGrand, Daphne's brother." Annalise explains to Elena in English.

"It is…" Pierre remarks in English. "A pleasure to meet a descendant of Katherine's. You have not harmed her, have you?" He pointedly inquires from Annalise.

"Not really," Annalise replies carefully. "I know Daphne would like that very much, but I need her in prime condition for Klaus."

Katherine barely contains a squawk of rage at this news. Reading her expression, Damon's eyes grow frantic.

Is she alright? he mouths again.

She's fine; shut up, Katherine mouths back. With the frantic energy pouring off Damon, she knows she isn't going to be able to keep him here and quiet for much longer.

Her attention is drawn back to the cavern, where Pierre expertly attempts to manipulate Annalise into explaining.

"Klaus?" he remarks nonchalantly. "What would the Original want with her?"

"To be honest, I don't really know," Annalise replies. "But I've sent Francois to inform him I'd like to negotiate. I imagine we will hear from him shortly."

Katherine motions to Damon, reluctant but aware she can't stall for Elijah and Faith anymore, not with Klaus potentially on his way.

Go, she mouths, putting their plan into action.

Damon doesn't hesitate for even a second at the thought of plunging his human self into a room of volatile vampires. Turning away from Katherine, he makes his way to the dim speck of light that will lead him to Elena.

Katherine watches him go with a rare sense of respect, remembering now why she'd turned him all those years ago, when he was just a twenty-four year old former solider, cracking like the floundering Confederacy under years of resentment and expectations. Despite Giuseppe's taunts, there is nothing cowardly about Damon Salvatore. All he ever needed was a reason.

A/N: Thank you all for reading. Apologies if any of you happened to get an alert twice. The first time I uploaded this it was the wrong version and the website formatted it wrong. I hope all problems have now been fixed. Thank you all so much for reading! If you're still with me after all this time, please do leave a review. Special thanks to Skye, my wonderful beta.