Author's Notes - Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews. Years ago, when the earth crusts were cooling and we used dinosaurs as transportation, I lived in Louisiana and got the chance to visit New Orleans several times. Though I was young, dumb and partook in some partying, the city was a dream. Now that I am older, not all that much more wiser, I wish I could return and have the chance to enjoy it from a different perspective. Again, this is AU, but will pull some from the show - which I do not own - to make it relevant.
Chapter One
~~~Two months later~~~
"Did you hear?"
Gritting her teeth as she fixed Ms. Clare her usual, Regina silently prepared herself for what was most likely to be yet another scandalous story from one of Meme's oldest and dearest friends. It seemed since her passing, every one of her Grandmother's friends took it upon themselves to ensure they 'dropped' by on a daily basis, not just to ensure she was doing well, but to do their duty in spreading the local French Quarter gossip.
"Hear what?" Knowing Ms. Clare would stand there until she asked, she swallowed the slight laugh when the older woman nearly puffed up in excitement.
"There's been another death." The woman's words were nearly a whisper, as though she were telling her some sort of torrid secret she was only privy to.
As her words sunk in, Regina felt a chill run up her spine. While the city had never been known to be the safest place in the world, the last few months had been plagued with odd occurrences, unexplained deaths, and the unfortunate mess at St. Anne's church. "But that makes six this month."
Apparently not finished, Ms. Clare clutched her handbag close to her chest as she leaned back in. "You will never guess who."
Almost scared to ask, Regina placed a freshly baked scone on a delicate plate and nodded to one of the empty tables. Out of all of Meme's friends, she felt for Ms. Clare, even if she was an old gossip and had the tendency to be closed minded. The woman was a dying breed, who had a death grip on the past, while wishing desperately for the hands of time to reverse to days gone by. Setting the cup of chicory coffee and bake good down, she pulled out a seat for the older woman, before taking a seat herself.
"Please tell me it isn't anyone we know."
Some of the excitement slipped from Ms. Clare's face, as she quickly set a weathered hand upon Regina's in comfort. "How horrible of me darling. Here I am, gushing about the latest gossip, with no regard to how it would make you feel."
"Really it's alright." Hoping the words sounded sincere, Regina sent the older woman a brittle smile.
"I feel absolutely horrid."
Regina knew Ms. Clare would go on forever if she didn't put a stop to her apologies, and simply held up a hand to stop any further words. "Who was it this time."
Looking instantly relieved, which made Regina slightly suspicious, Ms. Clare sat up straight in her seat. "Franny Flournoy. You know, that Cajon who fancied herself to be some sort of voodoo priestess."
"Witch." Regina muttered, as she felt a bubble of anxiety grow inside her chest. For months now she'd had this horrible feeling of dread, and before Meme had died she'd shared her concern. Instead of reassuring her, Meme had absently muttered she'd felt it too. It'd been an odd conversation, if one could call their short exchange a conversation, and in the weeks preceding Meme's death it hadn't been the only one.
"Pish." Ms. Clare waved her hand. "Witch, voodoo priestess, same thing. Personally, I never really understood the fascination. Those fakes have ruined our city."
Biting her tongue, Regina knew many of the 'old school' locals, who's family roots ran deep, blamed the decline of the city on what they deemed to be the riffraff. It confused her, how these pillars of society couldn't see it was some of the so-called riffraff who added spice to New Orleans, and had for more than a century. It didn't matter if she believed or didn't believe in Voodoo or Witchcraft, a pocket of residents and many of the tourists did, and that's all that really mattered.
She would be a liar to say she supported how the Quarter had turned into an all year kegger, pushing out some of the city's southern charm of Balls, Cotillions and High Teas. There was something about the old traditions that called to her, and really wished the town had the capacity to comprehend that balance was dire for progression. Instead, it felt as though there was an ongoing battle between the past and the future, and neither side willing to give an inch.
Feeling the heavy gaze coming from Ms. Clare, Regina cleared her throat. "Do the police have any leads?"
Clearly enjoying being the one to bring fresh news, the older woman preened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Nothing I know of, but if you ask me, it's either a serial killer, or the police are being very lax in their job."
"I doubt the police are turning a blind eye." Quick to dismiss the very thought of any foul play by those sworn to protect, Regina winced at the thought of there being some kind of psychotic running around the city killing at random. But even as the words slipped from her lips, there was a shade of doubt making her feel queasy.
"You are a sweet girl." The words and the way Ms. Clare had spoken them, made Regina feel like a simpleton, and fumed silently, reminding herself to respect her elder. But as Ms. Clare continued, the effort not to tell the old hag off was increasingly difficult. "But one day you will learn. Not everyone is as pure as you."
She doubted the older woman sitting across the small table would consider her to be such a sweet girl had she known the mischief she'd partaken in the Quarter over the years, but decided it wasn't worth her time to see how outraged the old bird would be. Knowing her patience was close to snapping, Regina smiled sweetly over at Ms. Clare. "Well it seems Ellie and I will need to be extra careful."
"Yes." A fake, brittle smile turned the woman's eyes hard. "How is your little friend?"
"Good. She's visiting her Grandmother for the weekend." Clenching her hands into fists on her lap, Regina wished to have the nerve to say something about the woman's blatant bigoted attitude. Not only was Ellie a typical Creole, with beautiful light colored coffee skin, she was also a proud Bi-sexual. Two things people like Ms. Clare silently tolerated. But even though they didn't speak their feelings out loud, their body language always gave them away. "I would be lost without her help."
Regina wasn't just saying this to get back at her Grandmother's old friend. Without Ellie's assistance, she would've lost her mind, not to mention her family's legacy. Her friend's natural buoyancy, and outspokenness balanced out her quiet and sometimes shy manner. At the same time, she kept Ellie from self-destructing when she got a little too buoyant and over the top.
A loud crash from behind the counter pulled Regina from her thoughts as one of her employees sent a silent apology. "As much as I hate to leave you Ms. Clare, I really should get back."
"Of course, my dear." Patting her hand, Ms. Clare shooed her away, and Regina was relieved for the excuse to escape before she told the woman exactly how she felt. Years ago, she'd asked Meme why she even bothered with little old biddies like Ms. Clare. In typical Meme fashion, she explained it was their obligation to show closed minded bigots that it was possible to live side by side with others who were different than they were. That by cutting off these people because of their beliefs, only pushed them to socialize inclusively within their own group, breeding only more hatred.
Regina thought there were several holes in Meme's theory, but also understood what she was saying.
Excusing herself again, Regina headed to the counter and back to the small kitchen in the back. Taking a few deep breaths, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought to clear her mind. When she felt she was able to control her unstable emotions, she gathered her hair up off her neck.
"She's gone." Megan, one of the shop's long term employees ducked her head into the kitchen, a knowing grin on her face.
"Thanks for the save." Sending a grateful smile back, Regina leaned against the butcher block table in the center of the kitchen.
"Sorry I had to break a few cups." Her smirk growing wider on the woman's face, Regina felt laughter bubble out. "But, you have another visitor, this one is much more handsome."
Intrigued, Regina moved to take a look out the door, and felt a smile play at her lips. Standing at the counter, stood one of New Orleans's finest. The very striking Officer Joshua Gaudet. One of the few officers who had humored her when she refused to accept Meme's death to be an accident.
Unlike many of their generation, Josh seemed to have found a way to hold on to old fashioned manners, while at the same time living in the modern world. He had a calm air about him that put her at ease, and due to this trait had him on the receiving end of many of her insomnia induced blathering sessions when he had the misfortune of stopping by to check in on her.
Though he didn't visit as often as he had, when he did stop by it always put a smile on Regina's face.
~~E~~
Hurrying away from Saint Anne's, Elijah struggled against the urge to check in on Hayley to ensure himself of her safety. With the amount of time he had been temporarily disposed of, there was no telling what kind of mess his impetuous brother had placed the young woman in. Seeing how even to this day, over one thousand years later, he knew Klaus could create havoc and discontent in just a day's time. Heavens only knew what the troublemaker had accomplished in his absence. Without any doubt there would be an unfathomable amount of clean up in the wake of Klaus's actions, but there would be time for that later, right now he had more pressing matters at hand.
Dodging a group of loud drunken tourists, Elijah cut across the street and made his way to the older, better preserved portion of the Quarter. Even due to the dire circumstances for his arrive to New Orleans, he couldn't miss the changes to the city he helped to establish. Where it had never been a place of law, and even in it's infancy it drew some unique individuals, it still held a charm. Now, after nearly two centuries, there was no missing how the modern world had invaded, and not for the best.
So, it was a relief to see just a few blocks not infested by drunkards, deviants, and flashing neon signs. By some miracle - or if he were a guessing man, a very powerful witch – his destination gave him a feeling that he had indeed stepped back in time.
The streets were clean, void of any graffiti or litter. Here there was not a feeling of neglect. Instead, the cobble stone streets were lined by brick buildings with wrought iron balconies and brightly painted shutters. Every street corner still possessed oil burning lamps, and he could even smell the linger scents coming from the Farmer's Market from blocks away. As loathed as he was to admit it, this small oasis amid of the chaotic French Quarter was better maintained than it had been in his day.
Though the nostalgic feeling brought a slight smile to his lips, it didn't abate the feeling of impending doom.
Klaus had been played, and to be fair was most probably still being played at this very moment, by Sophie Deveraux. But until he had one bit of business sorted out, he needed to hold onto faith his brother hadn't done any irreversible damage, which would inevitably place Hayley and the child growing within her in any harm. What he had to do would put them at an advantage, and from the time he could only assume had passed while being kept a daggered prisoner of Marcel, they needed any advantage they could acquire.
It was with a heavy heart, he was calling in on an arrangement he had been determined never to utilize, unless it was absolutely necessary. With any luck, Imogene and her Granddaughter would be only slightly inconvenienced. Sending a silent prayer of thanks that Celeste had the foresight to provide him this secret safe haven, even though it had been the last gift she had been able to bestow him.
It had been decades since he'd last encountered Imogene, and though he had an undying respect for the woman, her daughter Melody on the other hand, was going to be an issue if she was still in the vicinity. He just hoped the Granddaughter, Riley or perhaps it was Regina, was more like the elder Dauphine. Because it would be with great regret that he would have to make a choice between his family and the Dauphines.