Klaus had been patiently sipping his bourbon, watching the door for the witch he was meeting to discuss a series of symbols that had begun appearing around the Quarter. It was troubling, but he was fully in control of the situation. The door opened, but it was not his quarry – which had him sighing deeply and draining the contents of his glass, intent on leaving to track her down.
The voice, rising above the rest, had him changing course. Still staring straight ahead, he ordered another drink, barely letting on that he had heard a thing. Whoever this was knew of Esther, the recent resurrection and subsequent death. That was not something the Mikaelsons had broadcast.
Very slowly – and very deliberately – Klaus turned his head in the direction of the new face, just in time to see the rattle of things around him on the table. Once he had the fresh drink, Klaus stood and strode across the room with all the confidence on an alpha male in charge – despite the uncertainty this new situation presented.
He sat down without an invitation.
“You seem to know quite a bit for a face I do not recognize. My family’s secrets are not common knowledge; in fact, there are those who still consider us myth. To what do I owe the pleasure of your scrutiny, and just what – exactly – is it that you think I might want from you?”
“Yours are not the only secrets that I am privy to. It’s both a blessing and curse.” Remus finally locked eyes with Klaus, unable to help the smaller glimmer of disappointment as he took stock of the man. He had expected someone… Scarier? Taller too, perhaps. “It’s the consequence of powers that very few – witches and warlocks included – really understand.
“Oh! I almost forgot to introduce myself. Remus. I’m Remus. It’s, um, it’s nice… I mean, hi?” Remus moved slowly, so as to not alarm, and drew a small pocket watch from his pocket. He popped the case open and lay it on the table. It began to tick, quietly at first, but it grew louder and louder until it drowned out all other noise. Then it stopped, leaving the pair in silence.
“Sorry. I, um, I know you’re a private man. I am too. And I heard this town is full of spies. Some of which cannot be seen or touched but can still hear and see all that happens in their town. Now they can’t see us. Or hear us.” The witch took a sip of his wine, his hand shaking as he did so. “What was I saying? Sorry. I’m… New to this negotiating thing. It’s, ah… Is it always this weird?
“I have a, um, talent. A gift that is special even among witches. The sort that’s led to my being shunned. Vampires covet me. They fight over me like I am a doll. Werewolves fear me.” He shrugged awkwardly. “The other side is gone but I still see the dead. Speak to them, too. No matter where I am, I hear them. They never shut up!” Realising his voice had raised to a shout, Remus sighed. “Sorry. I, ah, I get carried away sometimes. But that’s what I can offer you, I guess; a chance to learn the secrets of the dead, the opportunity to reach past the veil and talk to any deceased loved one?”
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