Chapter 1: The Perfect Informant?

[New Orleans, Louisiana, USA]

[15th April, 2016]

The streets of New Orleans were packed to the brim, looking to me like a massive swarm of differently colored ants from my perspective on top of the mansion in which I lived. To be honest, New Orleans is an odd place; it has a rich and interesting history, which I love, but it also possesses a long history with supernatural elements, especially in the realm of voodoo and other forms of black magic. Thankfully, I try to stay far away from the witches that are rumored to live near the old cemeteries, floating around the massive tombs like dark phantoms flitting at the edge of the vision of tourists and native folk alike; in fact, I'm commanded to stay far away from them, as I operate under their very enemy, God. Frequently, the angels with whom I work send me out as a sort of spy in order to better understand their movements and any planned attacks on humans; while they do know that I am immortal, black magic and voodoo can also be used to harm me, and in many cases, I have seen fellow vampires become gravely injured by more powerful witches. At least, this was the norm before the angels enacted strict martial law on the cemetery. Believe me, the witches were not happy about that, and just three nights before there was a fierce fight between a dispatchment of power angels (higher ranking angels) and a rather small yet vicious group of younger witches.

Even worse, the same killings the angels were looking at in 1991- the ones with the infected bite on the side of the neck and the body being drained of all blood- were becoming more frequent. However, since they were so busy keeping the witches in line and from summoning in demons, they asked Balthazar to send me out to go and investigate the killings. It took a lot of research and spying, but today, I found out the cause.

"Interesting view, isn't it?" a voice said from beside me, causing me to be startled and move about five feet over on the balcony. Balthazar, the angel with whom I operate, was standing beside me, and boy, is he quite the figure! He stands at about 6'4" and is built like a Mack truck, but he has a kind and funny air about him, mixed with seriousness and fierce loyalty to his Commander.

I chuckled. "I can't deny that. New Orleans is...odd, at best."

He nodded. "That is true. Anyhow, what did you want to talk about?"

Taking a deep breath, I said, "I know the source of these killings. It took probably a few years' worth of research, but I came to find that these bites came from a hybrid."

Balthazar's eyebrows raised. "Hybrids, as in the half-vampire, half-werewolf creatures?""

"Yes. Apparently, they are very rare, and there are only two known in existence: a male named Niklaus Mikaelson, and a female by the name of Hayley Marshall."

"How did you find all of this?"

"Town records and books, mostly. Apparently, Niklaus and his family moved here to North America around the late 900s. Or so my informants tell me."

Balthazar thought about this for a moment. I returned my focus to the streets, which still flowed in a haphazard motion, with people going in all kinds of directions.

"And I'm guessing that the missions in which I sent you to go and essentially spy on the Mikaelsons were successful in turning up some of this information?"

I nodded. "Definitely. I had the chance to "befriend" Niklaus and Elijah, and they told me the whole spiel of how they came here. Niklaus is...neurotic and belligerent, if I had to be completely honest. Elijah seems to be an amiable fellow, but he does seem to be a bit reserved." I paused for a moment. "They mentioned a friend across the river, heading away from the French Quarter. Marcel, I think his name was. To be honest though, I don't believe that these bites were made by Niklaus. His bite pattern is completely different"

"Hmm."

Balthazar went silent again for a few moments, his brows creased in thought. "Do you think Marcel might be a good source to start this investigation?"

"Well, he has purportedly spent an incredibly long amount of time with Nik, but whether he has an in-depth knowledge of hybrids I don't know."

"Do any of the other family members besides Niklaus and Elijah know in-depth of Nik's hybrid nature?"

I paused, and I could feel my mind begin to race. "Well, there is their mother, Esther; she, however, is one of the witches under martial law set by High Command. Rebekah is the sister, but she has been in Arkansas for some time, so she's out. Finn's the eldest brother, but I don't know his whereabouts. Finally, there's the youngest, Kol, but he and Nik have been apart for some time. And then there is the Mikaelson patriarch-Mikael." I shuddered.

He shot me an odd look. "What's the matter?"

"I've heard terrible things about Mikael. Niklaus tells me that he was abused by him for many years when they were still human. He has a terrible personality too- very obsessive and angry, almost all the time; combine that with his intelligence and ferocity-he sounds close to a demon."

Balthazar paused. Sighing, he asked, "Would he be a good source for this investigation?"

"Undoubtedly, I'm afraid."

"You know I wouldn't put you to do this alone, Abira."

"But I didn't s-"

"Didn't have to. Fear can be a very palpable emotion, even when it is not expressed verbally. That, and God has given me the slight ability to read minds, in case you forgot." He grinned, which calmed me down greatly.

"It's just the fact that he literally drinks the blood of vampires. And me? I'm practically a five star meal to this guy."

"Tell you what- I will go with you. Once we nail down a location on where he is-he is alive, correct?

"Yeah, Elijah told me he was brought back by a witch not too long ago."

"Excellent. Once his location is determined- something I will ask some of those under my command- we will go and find him ."

He looked up at the darkening sky. "It's late, my dear. Why not go back inside and try to prepare for tomorrow?"

His eyes flashed for a second. "Ah, that's right! Your Trans-Am needs its rear tire replaced again. That last chase flattened it."

I nodded. "Leave it to me."

I rotated the new wheel once more, to make sure I had screwed everything in on my 1977 Trans-Am (like the one from Smokey and the Bandit) . When no nuts and bolts decided to become projectiles in my face, I stood up, and placed the wrench back on its hanger on the tool wall, having to use a chair in the process because of shortness. Once I hopped back down, I turned and examined my car again. The black paint gleamed nicely under the bright fluorescent lights, as it probably had about enough dirt to make an entirely new continent and needed a wash-badly. Opening the door, I sat in the car for a few minutes and started the engine, making sure that everything was still intact. The engine purred nicely, reverberating off the white walls of the garage. Now just one more thing to check.

Cutting the engine, I stepped out of the vehicle and popped open the trunk. Inside was a vast array of military-grade guns, rocket launchers, a grenade launcher, knives, and grenades and explosives of all kinds. Don't be freaked out; I do have a license to carry all of these, so I am not toting illegal weapons. They are for my occupation: a demon hunter. I have now been utilizing my military experience to hunt down the vilest creatures in existence, and so far I have held out against many troops and smaller groups of demons. Nodding, I closed the trunk, and proceeded to climb upstairs, all the way to my bedroom, where I sat on the edge of my bed and contemplated what tomorrow was going to be like. Even though Balthazar would be coming with me, the thought of having to face an equally old (1,000 year old) vampire- and an Original vampire nonetheless. I just hope I don't turn into a five-star meal.

God help me.