Author's Note: In order to avoid confusion, I'm going to provide a general timeline for the events of the story so far:
Liz's death/funeral- Early March (1st or 2nd week)
Kai face-off at the Salvatore boarding house- April 15th
Caroline arrives in NOLA (with ascendant)- April 15th
Caroline awakes in NOLA- April 20th; she had been asleep/unconscious for 5 days
Side note: Hayley is still a werewolf, not a hybrid.
Thank you, lovely readers, for your continuing interest and support. I hope you enjoy this. :)
Rousseau's felt different this morning. Softer. Calmer. Quieter. But more than anything, it felt tense. Perhaps Caroline only felt this way because the place was no longer clouded in cigarette-hazed karaoke and alcohol; or perhaps because as she looked around, she found it populated with apprehensive, unfamiliar faces that seemed unlikely to greet her with a Welcome to Louisiana any time soon.
Besides Enzo, Cami, Hayley, and the Originals, Caroline didn't recognize anyone. Twenty-five unknown people (other supernaturals of the city?) observed her in silence as she promenaded to the bar counter behind Klaus, seemingly cheerful and unaffected. (Cheerful she might have been, but unaffected? Hell no. Not with all those eyes watching her!)
Rebekah accosted them as soon as they'd entered.
"It took you long enough," she complained.
Grumbling, Klaus swiveled a paper bag onto his right shoulder and almost smacked Rebekah in the face. Enzo, who carried the remaining two, followed in his wake—with a much less disagreeable demeanor.
"Place them on the bar counter, please," Caroline instructed from behind.
Ignoring the watchful crowd, she busied herself with arranging the bakery items. She wanted to make them more presentable and accessible, that sort of thing.
"What the bloody hell is all this?" Rebekah asked with a sneer, flicking one of the bags with her fingers, "Gluttonous penance for your drunken sins?"
Caroline sighed. Did everyone know about her impulsive Klaus-kiss last night?
"Easy there, Beks," Enzo interceded.
He poised himself on a stool between the two blondes and extracted a warm croissant, nibbling on the edges and not bothering to swallow before he continued.
"If I recall, you've never repented for any of the romantic indiscretions you've had over the centuries." He licked his bottom lip. "Have you?"
Rebekah gaped, appalled, and then squinted at Enzo with revulsion.
"Caroline insisted on breakfast," Klaus said blandly. With an exaggerated swoop of the hand, he addressed the rest of the room, "For everyone."
The reaction? Nothing but blinking eyes.
To them, Klaus was probably nothing but daunting and menacing. And somehow, Caroline knew he preferred to keep it that way. She, however, did not.
Cami approached then, carrying with her a few platters and napkins that she'd retrieved from the storage room. The smell of brewing coffee wafted from a quaint nook, which featured a Klimt painting called "the Kiss" above it, on the opposite side of the room.
"I think it was thoughtful." She inclined her head at Caroline and smiled. The expression was warm. Without any perceptible resentment.
Lucky coincidence or actual intention? Caroline wondered.
"Especially because I'm starving and these smell delicious," Cami said, pulling her in for a grateful hug. "Thank you."
Caroline raised her eyebrows in surprise as she hugged her back. Intention.
The embrace felt nice, like it came from an old friend. Ironically, it was precisely what she needed at that moment: reassurance. A loving reminder that she could draw courage from these strange, hostile faces around her and learn about the politics of the city. Find a way to participate. (How else would they defeat Kai and Freya?)
"You are the angel of growling stomachs everywhere, darling," Kol announced, smacking her ass as he passed by, chewing. "Thank—" his mouth was full "—you."
Caroline plopped a croissant onto a napkin. The chocolate melted, hot and gooey, against her fingers. Turning around, she shrugged in her unconcerned, bubbly way and smiled at her curious onlookers.
"I don't know about the rest of you—" she paused to take a bite "—but I can't deal with Klaus' be-loyal-or-else antics on an empty stomach." She rolled her eyes at him with inflated emphasis. "And I'm a morning person."
With this silly but simple statement, the atmosphere of the room changed. Silence faded. In a matter of minutes, the tense quiet exchanged places with the popping kernels of whispered chatter and laughter. Before long, both the bar counter, and Caroline, were surrounded by some of the supernatural faces of the city.
Elijah approached the abandoned table where Klaus perched alone, watching. Patting at his unsullied lips with a napkin, he said, "Miss Forbes acts with tact not befitting of her young age."
"Yes," Klaus agreed.
"I'm impressed," he admitted plainly.
"Is that so?"
"You, brother,—" he tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing the lines of his black fitted jacket as he moved away "—could learn a lot from a woman like that."
"Yes," Klaus murmured, half to himself, "I suppose I could."
Friday, April 26th 9:02 P.M.:
A church. The holy place for people, pews, and prayers. At least it was—it used to be.
As Caroline stood outside the gorgeous, abandoned basilica, she wondered what a church became after death swallowed up all the people who passed in and out of its pews every Sunday, after holy water evaporated all of their hopeful prayers and left nothing but a haunting echo, a distant flicker of existence. Lost from life, taken by death. Gone, gone, gone.
Who would remember them—these once-living faces—if the chapel refused to chime in remembrance? Who?
Although the strength of sunshine pressed hard and vibrant against Caroline's shoulders, the teetering cross above her head burdened her with a loneliness too long ignored. Dead. Her parents were dead.
Why them? Why now? How could they leave her alone with an undead, eternal heart?
She wanted to avoid the pain, to flip the switch on that heart that throbbed and throbbed and throbbed with loss. But she couldn't do it; she wouldn't. Every day Caroline's soul hummed and purred in memory, determined never to forget. Every day. After all, who would remember Liz and Bill Forbes if she didn't? Who?
With her parents' loss, with their deaths, her heart became an orphan. Tainted and blemished, of course, but also starved. Ravenous. Caroline's heart was ravenous for love. She wanted it; she needed it desperately—but she deflected that impulse to attain it. What if no one on this planet remained to feed her starved heart, to stuff it full to capacity? What if she never was the one?
What if, what if, what if…?
5 days ago, Rousseau's:
The meeting delayed, partly because of Caroline's impromptu breakfast and partly because some guy named Marcel hadn't yet arrived. A small group of vampires, werewolves, and coven members congregated near the karaoke stage from last night with Kol and Cami at the helm. Caroline, sitting with her feet draped across Enzo's knees, inserted herself into the group and made excellent use of her multi-tasking brain.
Who says you can't sip coffee, collect information, and make friends, okay?
From the information she'd pried from Kol as they waited—attention deficit though he was—Caroline gained a better understanding of how New Orleans functioned. Apparently, each section of the community was "supervised" by Council leaders. The absent Marcel shouldered responsibility of the vampires with Elijah and Rebekah; Jackon and Hayley, as alphas, regulated the werewolves; Kol and a teenaged witch named Davina managed the covens; and Cami, the well-informed bartender, preserved safety and secrecy among the humans.
The Council, it seemed, was nothing more than a supernatural hierarchy designed to keep peace. Or in this case…to try.
"It's supposed to be an organized way to prevent supernatural chaos," Davina explained with a flippant hand gesture. "All the leaders supervise something."
Judging by the young witch's tone, however, Caroline gauged that peace and harmony weren't exactly common in the city. Particularly not among the supernatural population.
"What does Klaus supervise, then?" Caroline asked. Her lips, which twitched into a smile, rested against the edge of her coffee mug. "His hybrid ego?"
Hayley approached. Straddling a chair, she positioned herself to the right of Caroline and rolled her eyes.
"Fat chance," she sneered.
Though rude—and obvious as hell—Caroline sized the werewolf-girl up. A few years and hundreds of miles did little to erase the memory of a snapped neck in the bathroom of the Mystic Grill. She disliked Hayley Marshall in Mystic Falls; she still did in New Orleans.
Klaus swooped in before she responded spitefully.
"I'm King, sweetheart—" he leaned over the croissant platter next to Caroline, snatching one "—I don't supervise, I dictate."
Hearing this, Caroline discarded her coffee mug on the lofted stage and blocked his access to the delectable treats, scrutinizing him with her hands on her hips.
"Historically speaking," she said, "tyranny tends to result in beheading." She poked him in the chest with her finger and shrugged indifferently. "Just so you know."
"No offense, mate," Enzo quipped, cocking his head to the side, "but your head wouldn't look so pretty on a spike."
Kol dragged a chair across the floor and plopped down to the right of Klaus, rocking backwards to steady himself on two legs.
"It's the scowl, I think," he added. Scratching his chin, Kol considered his older brother for a long moment and then continued. "It makes your face too ugly for wall mounting. It'd scare too many innocent children."
Laughter spread warily among the collected Council members as they gauged Klaus' reaction—except for Enzo, Caroline, and Rebekah who howled.
At this juncture, Elijah excused himself. He disappeared out the street exit door with his phone poised against his ear. To phone Marcel. Again.
(Escaping the immaturity was likely an added bonus, Caroline thought.)
Klaus crossed his arms, lifted an eyebrow and said, "Yes, I'm sure it would."
Sauntering behind his brother with amusement flickering across his lips, he corrected Kol's chair into four-legged balance with a quick jerk. It sent the snickering warlock sliding across the peanut-coated floor like a baserunner stealing second.
Rebekah threw sweetener packets at Kol's prone form to cushion his fall—after the fact.
"Which is why it's perfect that I cannot be killed," Klaus said with a self-assured sigh.
"Ah, yes, how could we possibly forget?" Rebekah drawled. "You're Niklaus Mikaelson, indestructible king of New Orleans."
She saluted him in mockery and then rolled her eyes dramatically. Annoyed.
Klaus' lips trembled, his posture becoming more erect.
While Caroline recognized this gesture as preparation for a sarcastic rebuttal, Cami must have perceived a violent threat for she restrained him by the elbow and muttered Don't through clenched teeth. (As if such a passive maneuver would stop him. Ha!) Cami may want a PhD in psychology, but there were certain aspects of Klaus' psyche that only Caroline seemed to understand. And though it wasn't funny, she couldn't help but be a little entertained at Cami's attempt to "contain" him.
He shirked out of the bartender's grasp without trouble and sped to the nook across the room. As he poured himself a steaming glass of black coffee, he replied, "Indestructible king of the universe, preferably." He flashed back to the stage and gestured at Rebekah. "Not to nit-pick or anything."
A few stragglers in hats followed Klaus as he made his way back to the little supernatural group, filing into open seats and tables. They were probably bored waiting for Marcel—and for this stupid meeting to begin.
Kol, who now sat beneath Caroline's dangling legs on the floor, nudged Enzo's foot and nodded up at him, whispering something unintelligible.
At this, Enzo catapulted from his seat and threw himself onto his knees. At Klaus' feet.
Rebekah snapped her fingers at Caroline in explain-yourself fashion as she swallowed a large swig of her hot drink.
"What's that boyfriend imbecile of yours doing?" she spat at last.
Caroline quirked her eyebrow at the accusation—because she hadn't a damn clue!
Standing next to Hayley, Davina twiddled a ring on her index finger. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and said, "I think he's—" she pursed her lips to repress a laugh, though she wasn't entirely successful "—bowing."
Caroline looked down at her friend…and sure enough, he was. Enzo rested on bent knees with his arms extended and his forehead pressed into the floor.
Chuckling loudly, Kol smacked his knee and exclaimed, "Fucking brilliant!"
"Of course I'm bowing you bloody ingrates," he barked. Enzo's voice echoed in muffled tones against the floor. "I pay my respects to the invincible king of the universe. What do you think I am—" he paused "—stupid?"
The room filled with tense laughter (minus Kol, who was forever unbothered) as Klaus glowered down at the smart-assed Brit. With his pupils dilated and red with rage, Klaus examined Enzo as if he was the most disgusting of insects—the kind that deserved to be crunched and squashed into nothing more than guts. Tiny bug guts. Or better yet, bug ash.
Hayley watched from the chair she straddled. With her chin nestled against the back of her hand, she spoke to the man on the ground.
"You sure look stupid to me," she said.
Jumping up, Caroline deposited a napkin on the werewolf's lap and patted her thigh.
"Here," she said. "Why don't you use that to wipe the bitch off your face?"
Pissed and offended, Hayley narrowed her eyes. In response, Caroline flashed her a haughty smile before maneuvering behind Enzo.
"Claws are out!" Kol exclaimed, taunting them with faux-angry hisses.
Sure, Enzo was being an idiot—but he was Caroline's idiot. And she was protective of her friends, okay? Always. (Not that it stopped her from stomping hard on said idiot's ass five seconds later.)
He grumbled in pain.
"What? Too much?" Enzo asked, grunting out a laugh.
"Blithering moron never shuts up," Rebekah mumbled under her breath, "He never did."
Rolling onto his heels, he peered up at a towering Klaus whose features radiated with wolfish aggression.
"Isn't that what Klaus the Invincible demands?" Enzo prodded bitterly. A humorless laugh clogged his throat as he spoke, making his voice raspy yet clear. "Compelled obedience? Demanded loyalty?"
Not only did Caroline observe the collective nods of agreement while her friend spoke, but she watched Klaus' hands curl into tight fists. He didn't need to speak. His rigid intensity screamed one word and one word alone: kill.
"No offense, Klausy—" Enzo started.
As the two men engaged in an epic glare-down, Caroline stepped between them. Though she remained ignorant about their shared history, she remembered the strangled-and-dangled Enzo of the morning. With fresh clarity. And she wasn't aiming for a catastrophic repeat, thank you very much.
"—I'm sorry to break it to you, Klaus," she interrupted with a frivolous wave, "but you're not invincible or indestructible."
A hush fell over the room. While Cami held her breath, Enzo tapped his chin smugly and retreated between Kol and Rebekah to watch. (Spunky Caroline was his favorite, after all.)
"No one is." Caroline licked her lips and pointed at the hybrid. "You have vulnerabilities just like the rest of us," she said.
Aghast eyes blinked at the sound of Caroline's audacity. Who was this girl? they seemed to ask. Was she insane? Did she want to die?
"It's not like we haven't all tried to immobilize you…" Davina muttered with strained courage.
"Peppy Forbes has a point, Nik," Rebekah added unwillingly.
At this, Klaus scratched his chin in contemplation before taking two purposeful steps forward and enclosing the distance between him and Caroline. His blue eyes pierced hers. He bent closer, faces only inches apart.
"Since you're so shrewd—" he gritted his teeth, his jaw tight "—what would you suggest I do then?"
Was Klaus asking for advice? Was he joking? Was this real life?
Crossing her arms, Caroline lifted her chin and embraced the challenge. The pompous ass needed frankness from someone in his life.
"Honestly?"
He nodded in encouragement.
"How about you try delegating support for a while instead of dictating it?" She pushed side bangs from her face and stared hard into his eyes. "Who knows," she continued disinterestedly, "maybe that will save you from a severed head on a spike?"
The tension in the bar sputtered like a deflated tire at the sight of Klaus' soft smile. Removing his hands from behind his back, he ripped the croissant he held—procured, but never eaten—into two equal pieces.
"I suppose there's only one way to find out, isn't there, love?" he asked.
Looking up, he compressed his lips into a thin line and extended his hand tentatively—offering, not obliging—Caroline half. Fear trembled almost imperceptibly in his fingertips as he extended his croissant of compromise. Would she accept; would she reject? Klaus seemed unsure. Not only unsure, but afraid.
Why was he always so full of doubt? Guarding his heart with a fence of paranoia? Caroline knew why, but the always needed to be demoted to sometimes. Like now. Seriously.
Caroline couldn't help but study him, once again marveling at how clearly he hung onto each second of her shock, onto each moment of her wordless hesitation, waiting to see if her answer would disappoint him. Yet again.
Contrary to his expectation, however, she accepted his offer gladly…and with a smile.
As for the rest of the room, they couldn't help but betray a little surprise. After all, it wasn't every day that Klaus Mikaelson attempted to try, let alone to make concessions in the ruling of the city. His city.
Apparently there was a first time for everything—and today, it was due to the fearless urgings of a pretty, perky blonde. Who knew?
Friday 9:05 P.M., St. Matthews Catholic Church:
When Davina had whispered at the Council meeting that she'd sent the cryptic bar note, that she'd uncovered a way to find Bonnie, Caroline had anticipated a clandestine rendezvous spot. (The little witch had insisted on preserving her no-Klaus condition. And sneaking around Mr. All-Knowing wasn't easy, okay?) But she hadn't expected a church. A graveyard or an ancient witchy crypt, maybe, but not a church.
Tucked away in the corner of a shadowy street, it erected a formidable, forgotten beauty with its ornate stones and elaborate stained glass windows, many of which were broken or shattered by debris from Hurricane Katrina. Bells, fractured and water-logged, still swung from the steeple, but no longer reverberated with heavenly music. Irreparable damage shrouded the place, this consecrated ground, in a morose silence—an unkind reminder that despair sometimes forever lingered in places once vibrant.
Caroline hesitated at the base of the long, steep steps, peering up at them like a treacherous mountain she dreaded—but needed—to climb.
It'd been a month-and-a-half. Had it been that long already? A month-and-a-half had passed since she'd last cried goodbye, since black rose petals had last showered the floor of Fell's Church behind her mother's closed casket. Caroline hadn't been inside a church since; she hadn't wanted to step inside one again. Not for a long, long time. And, yet, here she stood next to an expectant, jubilant Kol—at the entrance of the one place she'd promised herself to avoid: a church.
How could a hallowed building so lovely and welcoming feel so hostile, Caroline wondered? How? Before she found an answer, Kol spoke, breaking her from her reverie.
"Are you ready, sunshine?" he probed.
Armed not only with the task of rescuing her best friend, but with combating the renewed sorrow of her mother's death, Caroline clutched tightly to Kol's arm.
"It's now or never," she breathed.
A weak smile lifted her lips as Kol tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they headed up toward the closed church doors. With an extra person for support, what could possibly go wrong?
5 days ago, 9:33 A.M. Rousseau's:
"Is that why you're in New Orleans?" Hayley asked. She strummed her fingers on the table in a rapid, irritated rhythm. "To teach us backwater southerners the rules of diplomacy?"
Standing, she scoffed and flipped her chair, skidding it across the floor like a pebble.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she asked, her brown eyes wide in accusation. "You know nothing—absolutely nothing—about what happens here. Why should Klaus…why should anyone give a damn about what some once-upon-a-time beauty queen from Mystic Falls, Virginia has to say?"
"I'm glad you asked that," Caroline replied with a sun-shining smile.
Turning to face the others, she continued.
"I'm Caroline Forbes—" she flashed a small wave "—and I'm in the city to help ward off a dire witch threat, which Hayley—" she paused, flicking her fingers at the werewolf in ignore her fashion "—knows nothing about."
Hayley glared and stepped forward, but found herself restrained by Rebekah who held her by the wrist.
"Unless you want to find yourself, or your pack, magic-hijacked on the way home," Rebekah said, holding the girl steady, "I suggest you shut up and listen to the beauty queen."
Klaus brushed his index finger across his lips, hiding a smirk.
"Who are these people?" Davina asked.
"Witches, darling," Kol offered. He slinked an arm around her shoulders and dropped his voice for effect, waggling his eyebrows. "Wicked witches plotting—"
"—for world domination," Enzo interrupted.
The Council members began to whisper and laugh amongst themselves. The room seemed divided—half was gripped with serious concern, half was wondering if this contrived "threat" was nothing more than a joke. Another plot for more Mikaelson power.
For the moment, Hayley straddled the line in-between. She crossed her arms and demanded more information.
"And you know how to stop this quest for world domination, do you?" Laughing, she glanced at Caroline with eyes full of dubiousness and disgust. "You probably don't even know what they're after!" she argued.
"What do they want?" Cami asked. She looked to Caroline with a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. "Or who?" she amended, gulping.
Klaus flashed into the middle of the room. Reaching into his back pocket, he extracted a star-shaped object that glimmered gold refracted triangles onto the floor beneath the muted bar lights. Not only did it look ancient, but it hummed with ancient potential. And magic.
"This is what Kai and my once-imprisoned sister, Freya—"
"—the Original bitch of the West," Kol added with a smirk.
"—want and need to procure what they desire…—" Klaus held the ascendant high into the air, waving it from side-to-side for everyone to see. "—immortality."
Rebekah smacked her lips together and nodded at the object.
"It holds a lot of power. Lethal power," she said.
The ascendant seemed to purr louder as she said this. Stronger.
"Which in the wrong hands," Klaus paused, smiling down at it with smugness, "could lead to catastrophe…and death…for us all. Luckily—"
Hayley stiffened at this and came to stand opposite him.
"Why do you have it?" she asked. She stood with fists clenched at her side, white-knuckled in accusation. "Why not Elijah or—"
"—I gave it him," Caroline said, finally inserting herself back into the conversation. She poised herself on the edge of a table to Klaus' right. "It's why I'm here; it's why my friend sent me."
Her eyes flickered to Klaus' face, fixing him with a look without irony because she finally figured it out. Yes, she finally understood.
"I saved it from Kai's scheming, murderous hands and came here willingly. To him." She pointed her thumb at Klaus. "I chose—no—I choose to trust him. Because here's the thing: there's no one better to protect the ascendant."
Feeling fidgety, Caroline jumped up and paced back-and-forth in front of the collected Council members, stopping only to wipe her clammy palms against her jeans.
"He's old—" muffled laughter "—he's threatening, he's diabolical," she continued, un-phased, "but he's also strong and powerful. He's freaking smart, okay! You know why?" she half-cheered with her right hand raised over her head.
"Why?" Hayley asked, unimpressed and unmoved.
Caroline halted in front of the smart-tongued werewolf while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably, his hand over his eyes, hanging on her unspoken words.
"Because he knows that no one—not even the un-killables of this room—can defeat Kai and Freya alone," she said. Leaning in, she shook Hayley by the shoulders, hoping to knock some sense into her. "We have—" she bit her bottom lip "—to stick—" she bore her blue eyes into Hayley's, teeth clenched "—together."
"Freya is a bloody formidable magic-wielding bitch," Rebekah quipped. "If you add her siphoning lover into the mix," she snorted without humor, "you're basically charred supernatural toast."
"And you want to survive. Don't you, wolf-girl?" Enzo asked in a provoking tone.
Hayley glared and tossed an empty platter at his face in response, which he dodged without trouble.
"If synergy and trust are too difficult or horrible for you to try—" Caroline paused, bending in with bright innocence beaming across her face. She patted the girl's shoulder soothingly and half-whispered, "-I guess you'll be their first unprotected target, won't you?" she smiled. "But who would be next?" she asked, tapping her lip with her finger tauntingly and peering at Hayley's collected pack members.
Hayley opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it abruptly.
Caroline watched the mental turmoil erupt across the girl's features and how it clouded them in insolent surrender—not wanting to agree, but having no choice. As alpha, the werewolf would never endanger the lives or the livelihood of her pack. (She had learned that much about wolves from Tyler.) It didn't matter how much she hated Caroline's interference in New Orleans...Hayley wouldn't jeopardize her family.
And while Caroline wasn't a Hayley fan, she respected the girl's sense of loyalty. It was their sole bridge of commonality. Why not exploit it?
And so, with one unwilling nod, Hayley said, "Your unexpected arrival makes sense now."
That was as good as it was bound to get, Caroline realized. And she'd take it. A win was still win, right?
As the girls finished marking their supernatural "territory," the sound of smashing bottles suddenly erupted from behind the bar. A man in a black baseball cap bounded to the counter in cocky flair. With a bottle of expensive wine poised in one hand, he gripped a basket of peanuts in the other.
"Excuse me," Cami said stepping forward, crunching glass beneath her feet, "but what do you think you're doing?"
The man faced away from them and chomped loudly.
"Getting snacks." He turned his hat backwards. "There's something about cat fights that makes me hungry," he wisecracked, still munching.
"Coffee and croissants aren't good enough for you, mate?" Enzo asked. Caution characterized his steps as he maneuvered in front of Cami, pushing her behind him.
The man sighed as if to demonstrate his boredom. Turning, he shoveled another handful of peanuts into his mouth.
"Since I'm a meeting crasher—" he chewed obnoxiously "—I don't think she—" he gestured at Caroline "—intended those croissants for me," he said.
A malicious grin spread across his lips the moments their eyes met—hers full of shock and disgust, his full of devious satisfaction.
"Did you sweet Caroline?" he asked.
At the sound of his tone, at that repulsive inflection, the Originals and Enzo assumed defensive positions around her, knees bent, encircling her in a blockade of supernatural prowess. Klaus out-stepped the rest by flanking her on the left side like a protective knight and snarled.
"Great, just what we need," Hayley mumbled, "another Mystic Falls friend."
Cami tapped Davina on the shoulder and pointed at the black-hatted stranger with confusion.
"Who is that?" she asked.
Hearing this, the man vaulted to the ground licking his lips like a snake about to strike.
"The name's Kai," he proclaimed, inclining his head in introduction. "It's so nice to meet you all—" he clapped with excitement "—Finally!"
Raising his arms into the air almost like in prayer, Kai tilted his head back, eyes closed, and inhaled. Deeply. After he released the breath through his nostrils, he lowered his chin and opened his eyes.
Black. Hollow. Spinning. Caroline couldn't look away—she was yanked into the revolving obscurity of his irises. They pulled her away from the light. Far, far, far away. Would she ever get back? Could she ever get back?
An ear-piercing siren suddenly screeched through the bar as Kai flicked his wrists and began to conduct a symphony of dissonant torture. Everyone—vampires, werewolves, witches, humans, Originals—collapsed to their knees in convulsive shuddering, their screams laced with irrepressible agony and cursing. Some shrieked; others sobbed. There was no in-between. There were no exceptions. Just one indisputable fact: no one was immune.
Swooping his arms outward, part in spell and part in triumph, Kai promenaded around their tottering heads and cackled with derision at the sight of their involuntary writhing. At their helplessness. A victorious skip characterized his bouncing steps.
"I am no friend—" he announced.
Crouching to leer in Caroline's pained face, Kai bopped her nose playfully yet earnestly with his finger and tilted his head sideways, looking deep into her unconscious eyes.
"—I'm half of your worst nightmare."
Additional Note: Because I felt that it was important to illustrate the contention that exists between the supernaturals in NOLA, I spread the Rousseau's drama over the course of two chapters. Will they work together or won't they? Don't worry, though, because they'll have to answer that question next chapter-with Kai and Freya both present. The antagonists are in hiding no more...lots of action to come!
Leave a review and let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading!
-Ashlee Bree