Characters: Elijah Mikaelson, Hope Mikaelson
Time: Shortly after “Going in for the Kill”
Location: Mikaelson compound library
Elijah’s sitting in the library, The Times-Picayune open to the weather section as he reads the latest update on the tropical storm forming in the Gulf. Half of his mind is already running through a list of preparations they should make to the compound to ensure its safety should New Orleans be hit with a storm in the near future.
He senses a presence in the doorway, but he lets the tiny knock against the frame be thing that distracts him from his reading. His niece is half-hidden in the hall, leaning against the doorframe as she peeks inside. “Good morning,” he says, his smile spreading slowly.
“Hey, Uncle Elijah.” Hope nods to the paper. “Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you.” He folds the paper and tosses it easily onto the coffee table. “How can I help you?”
Hope takes a step into the room, fingers twisting in front of her nervously. Suddenly, Elijah is struck by just how much Hope resembles her mother; she may have Niklaus’s hair, but her mannerisms are all Hayley.
“So, I’ve been studying local magics with Vincent,” she begins, “trying to catch up after fifteen years of basically homeschooling myself, and…a lot of records and documents that the witches have are in French.”
Elijah nods in understanding. “I remember a number of witches from the time when our family first arrived in Louisiana who spoke only French. Some Creole, too.”
“Right, well…” Hope settles onto the sofa opposite her uncle, curling up on one end. “I was thinking that it’s kind of annoying to have to whip out Google Translate every time I want to read a grimoire, and that it’s pretty ridiculous to pay for classes at the university or something like that when…I live with someone who speaks, like, every language.” Her eyes flick up to look at Elijah as she cocks a hopeful half-smile.
Elijah blinks in surprise. “You want me to teach you French?”
“I mean, if you’re not too busy…”
“Hope, it would be my great honor to introduce you to the French language, it’s…incredibly beautiful, and something I’ve very fond of. If I sound taken aback, it’s merely because I wouldn’t expect you to think of me as…a teacher.”
Shrugging, Hope says, “Marcel says you taught him when he was a kid, and he seems more or less competent.” She grins at her own joke.
Elijah huffs a little laugh. “Believe me, an endorsement from Marcel is a surprise in and of itself.” He pauses. “Well, as I said, I would be happy to teach you some French, Hope, but…you know who else is fluent in the language?”
Hope frowns. “Rebekah?”
“Well, yes, but…I was referring to your father.”
Hope’s face grows cold. “Oh.”
Elijah chooses his next words carefully. “I know how much joy your father feels in sharing his love of art with you. I know that he would be so happy to share French with you as well.”
Voice flat, Hope retorts, “Well, the difference between you and my dad, Uncle Elijah, is that you’re here.”
He sighs. “Hope…”
Hope is suddenly on her feet. “It’s been three months, Elijah. He doesn’t answer my calls. He doesn’t answer Mom’s. If he cared enough to teach me French, he’d care enough to show up.”
Standing, Elijah says calmly, “Hope, I was with my brother when he had that murderous hex siphoned from his body. I will never forget the look on his face when the weight of the things he had said and done to you crashed over him. A thousand years, and I’ve never seen him look so…distraught.”
“And so his solution is to disappear?” Hope blinks repeatedly, willing away the furious tears. “I don’t care about the things that he said while under the influence of a spell, I care about his inability to look me in the eye afterward.”
Heart breaking, Elijah takes a step toward his niece. “I implore you to give him some time. Your father loves you more than life itself—”
Hope puts up a hand to halt Elijah’s pleading. “I don’t need you to excuse him. If he wants my forgiveness, he’s going to need to ask me for it himself.”
With another sigh, Elijah nods. “Of course. I just hope you know…how very loved you are.”
Hope bites her lip, and then throws herself against her uncle’s chest. Elijah catches her easily, wrapping his niece into a hug. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and holds her tight.
Hello! In what is certainly a surprise twist for both you and me, I have returned to the People and Rhythm universe with what I am calling a “lost episode.” A “lost episode” is a full-length episode fic, written much in the same way as an episode in either season one or two of People and Rhythm, but it does not belong to either season, or (at this point) a new season of its own. It’s a stand-alone episode, longer than a deleted scene. This episodes doe contain characters introduced in season two of People and Rhythm, so it’s probably best be caught up before reading this.
All that being said, I am extremely happy to be revisiting the fic that changed my life in untold ways, and hope you enjoy reading this episode.
Time: Sometime after 2x13
Alastair Duquesne doesn’t spend much time thinking about New Orleans. In fact, if he were to estimate, he would guess that he spends exactly no time thinking of the city to which he once made yearly pilgrimages. Now that Klaus Mikaelson and his entire wretched family has resumed running through the sunken streets of the city, Alastair chooses not to dwell on the seething rage he feels over the Originals’ triumph. Once the little Mikaelson witch bitch freed her father from the wall and Alastair made his escape, he made the decision to move on, to live to fight another day.
That is, until he was forcibly reminded of his evil sire at a pub in the south of Wales. He’s meeting a friend for a pint before a night of ambling through the streets of Swansea, looking for a vein to tap. He’s distracted from his tankard by a conversation his vampire senses overhear from the back of the pub.
“…trip to New Orleans. City’s turned itself around.”
The voice belongs to an American, by the sounds of it, and Alastair shifts just slightly to focus better.
“That one chap still in charge?” the American’s friend asks. “What’s his name…Mark?”
“Marcel?” Alastair’s interest is certainly piqued now. “Only in charge of the vampires. No, get this: the city has a queen.”
The friend scoffs. “A queen? Of a city? You Americans don’t do things halfway, do you?”
“She’s just a kid, too, maybe eighteen? A Mikaelson, of course.”
“Yeah, I heard of her. What do they call her? The tribrid?”
Alastair freezes. The witch bitch.
“I guess. They say she’s doing an alright job. A little rocky at first, but things seems to be going okay. Wasn’t the all-out war that I remember from two decades ago, at least.”
“Bloody hell.” The friend takes a swig of his stout and sighs. “And after all that, Klaus Mikaelson gets everything he wanted. Aye, what a shame.”
“Yes,” Alastair breathes, bringing his own glass to his lips. “What a shame, indeed.”
“Will you hold still?”
Hope’s got a pair of scissors in her hand, hovering just above her father’s head. They stare at each other in a mirror, a silent stand-off.
“I don’t see why have to be your guinea pig,” Klaus whines. “Your uncle Elijah—”
“Wouldn’t let me near his hair with a ten-foot pole, and rightly so,” Hope snarks back. “His hair looks fantastic.”
Klaus’s jaw drops in offense, but before he can retort, a head pokes into the studio door. “Vincent’s downstairs.”
Hope sighs and drops the shears onto a table. “I thought the meeting was at eleven.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Hayley shrugs. “Looks like he wants to move it up an hour. You can torture your father later.”
Klaus leaps out of the chair, smoothing his curls down. “Yes, well, I suppose you’d best run along to your meeting, luv, don’t want to keep our regent waiting.”
Hope narrows her eyes. “I’m cutting your hair today, Dad. You’re not wriggling out of this one.”
Klaus merely smiles in triumph and gestures with one arm toward the door.
When Hope reaches the courtyard, she finds Vincent next to the fountain, toe tapping. When he sees her approaching, he takes a step forward. “You heard anything from the ancestors today?”
Hope quirks an eyebrow. “I hear from the ancestors every day, Vincent. That’s kind of the problem.” She jerks her head toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll brew some tea.”
Vincent follows her. As she puts the kettle on the stove, he asks, “Do you know of a Seer named Ivy?”
“Hm…doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She’s got a stall down in the Cauldron. Tourists love her, mostly because she’s the best damn tarot reader in all nine covens.”
A small smile spreads across Hope’s face. “Vincent…do you like this woman?”
That throws him for a loop. “Do I—can we focus please?” Hope shrugs. “She was doin’ a card read this morning and she got…” He trails off.
“She got what? C’mon Vincent, you know I’m not as well-versed in tarot as I should be.”
“Maybe you should study more.”
“Maybe you should lecture me later and tell me about Ivy’s reading now.” She leans against the counter, arms crossed.
“Fine. She got the Tower, the Emperor reversed, and…Judgment.”
Hope’s brow furrows as she racks her brain for the meanings of these cards. “I know the Tower. That’s a sudden upheaval.” Vincent nods. “I can’t remember the reversal of the Emperor card.”
“Tyranny,” Vincent supplies. “And Judgement?”
“Judgement is…” Realization dawns on her face as the kettle begins its shrill whistle. “A reckoning.”
Vincent’s face is impassive. “Now who’s a tyrant we know who may be overdue for a sudden reckoning?”
When Alastair Duquesne walks through the Cauldron, he wrinkles his nose at the overwhelming number of scents. Incense, sage, candles, homebrews—he’s assaulted by smells from all sides, and he’s reminded once again of why he hates cavorting with witches.
He can’t find the face he’s looking for, so eventually he gives up and taps on the shoulder of a stall girl whose last customer is walking away. “Excuse me.”
She turns, surprised. “What can I get you?”
“Do you know someone by the name of Theo LeRoy?”
Surprise blooms on her face. “Theo? You lookin’ for Theo?” He nods. “Sorry, but she’s been locked up for…oh, ‘bout a year now.”
Now it’s Alastair’s turn to look surprised. “Locked up? She’s in prison?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” The woman cocks her head to the side. “You look familiar. How do you know Theo?”
“We…had a mutual understanding last year. A common enemy, you might say. I was hoping to work with her again to defeat that enemy.”
The woman smirks. “I think I can help you out. I’m Leanne.” She sticks out her hand.
He takes it. “Alastair Duquesne.”
Klaus wanders through Jackson Square, hands in his pockets, silently observing the street artists around him—trumpeters, spray painters, breakdancers. He’s trying to keep himself occupied; he may refuse to admit it, even to himself, but without a war bubbling under the surface of New Orleans’s supernatural society, he finds himself with little to do. Since he promised his daughter he would refrain from causing unnecessary trouble, here he is, bored and restless.
He stops near a canvas, and the young woman with loose curls dabbing her brush against it. She’s painting the square, and its myriad colors and textures. He finds himself particularly impressed by her rendition of a guitarist a few dozen yards away, and the yellow dog curled up at his feet. After a few minutes of observation, he feels a presence beside him. “She’s good.”
Klaus’s eyes dart to the side. The woman looks vaguely familiar, and judging by the confident set of her shoulders, he’s going to guess she’s a witch. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Theo LeRoy’s,” she begins. “Leanne. You probably don’t remember me.”
Klaus’s head turns glacially to look at her. His smile is sardonic. “Sorry. I don’t remember unremarkable people.”
Leanne lets that go. “Theo would have made an excellent leader in New Orleans—you know, before your daughter stole the Advocacy from her.”
“From what I understood, your ancestors thought Theo LeRoy underqualified to play the role of Advocate, and selected my daughter instead. I hardly see how Hope is to blame for the whims of dead witches.”
With a little shrug, Leanne says, “Perhaps. Still, Hope is out here, ruling this city like a queen, while Theo rots in an abandoned motel prison, alone and powerless.”
Klaus rolls his eyes. “And why exactly are you whinging at me? I’m not going to ask my daughter to release Theo LeRoy; she tried to kill Hope, and even if she hadn’t, I don’t care.”
“I don’t need you to ask your daughter anything,” Leanne says. A ghost of a smile appears on her face. “I just need you to kill her.” And before Klaus can react, she snaps her fingers, and his head twists horribly to the side, neck instantly snapped.
Hope steps out of her car, phone pressed to her ear. “Okay, Riv, where exactly are you?” She listens, and then looks back at her car. “I don’t know, on the side of a street?” A pause. “Okay, not to sound like a bitch, but have you seen the suits Elijah wears? I don’t care about a parking ticket.”
She listens some more, and then says, “God, why is this campus so confusing? And why are there so many quads?” She looks around. “Okay, I think you’re just around the corner from here. I should be there in a few. Love you!” She hangs up.
She walks down Freret Street and spies a break between two buildings. “Shortcut!” she sings to herself, and ducks between the brick walls. Her steps echo on the concrete, but then she hears it: a second pair of footsteps. She turns, confused, and suddenly there’s a loud clanking sound, followed by a heavy weight around her wrists. She looks down, bewildered, to see a pair of rusty manacles clasped around her arms, and then looks back up. Stunned, she says, “Dominic?”
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” the witch from the Ninth says with a smirk. “Your Excellency is needed elsewhere.”
And then the world goes black.
Klaus thrashes against his chains to no avail. Whatever crypt he’s being held in is macabrely decorated, with a plethora of lit candles and jars full of untold substances. His breath is coming in angry huffs as a sharp creak alerts him to someone entering. “I’ll tear your limbs off,” he threatens Leanne before she’s even in view.
But she’s not alone. Klaus sets his jaw. “Alastair. Long time.”
“Not nearly long enough,” Alastair replies. “Though I did come to visit you, several times during your…down period. Pity we couldn’t speak. I heard you were a little…tied up.”
Klaus is unamused. “What are you doing in my city?”
Alastair takes a few long, casual strides about the crypt, glancing interestedly at the items on the walls. “Is it still your city, Klaus? From what I’ve heard, the great Klaus Mikaelson has been waylaid by his own teenaged daughter.” He turns his head to smirk at Klaus. “Not quite the formidable tyrant we once were, are we?”
Klaus bites the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t give Alastair the reaction he’s looking for. “I suggest you keep all mention of my daughter off of your despicable tongue, Alastair, lest you find yourself losing it.”
Alastair saunters closer and leans in so his face is inches from his sire’s. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what you are about to lose.” Klaus’s face becomes drawn, but he doesn’t respond. “Do you remember what you did to me?”
Jutting his chin out, Klaus responds, “Oh, it’s so hard to remember our wayward youths, isn’t it? You’ll have to remind me.”
“You turned me into a vampire and compelled to kill my wife and child,” Alastair snarls, all pretense of nonchalance gone. “You destroyed my life for a laugh.”
“Ah,” Klaus breathes. “Now I remember. She was pretty, your little wife. Shame you tore her to pieces like that.”
Alastair swallows thickly. “Well, shame you’re going to the same to your daughter.”
The blood vanishes from Klaus’s face. “I would never.”
“You won’t have a choice,” Leanne interjects, and Klaus’s eyes snap to hers, blazing. “You like that, don’t you? Taking people’s choices away?”
Klaus jerks at his chains, but they don’t budge. “If you touch a single hair on my daughter’s head—”
Leanne throws up her hands. “I don’t plan on doing a thing to Hope.” She reaches behind her back and pulls out a familiar object: a long, dark stake with dozens of tiny skulls carved into one end, their eye sockets gleaming blood red. “We’ll leave that up to you.”
You have reached the voicemail box of: Hope Mik—
“Ugh!” River groaned, hanging up again. She wanders up West, head swiveling as she looks for her girlfriend. “An hour late,” she grumbles to herself. “How lost can she be?”
She takes a left onto Freret, and just up the road she can see Hope’s car, a ticket tucked under the windshield wiper. “I told her so,” River mumbles, and she approaches the car. There’s no sign of Hope around. She turns to head back to the quad, but then catches a whiff of something familiar in the air. She follows the scent, and it leads her between two brick buildings. There’s nothing there, just a narrow alleyway that leads to an open area behind the buildings. She’s turning to head back to the car when something catches her eye. She bends down and picks up a familiar piece of jewelry: a necklace with the Mikaelson crest on it—a gift from Elijah for Hope’s last birthday.
In a flash, River’s phone is in her hand. “Hayley, you need to come to campus right now. I think…I think someone took Hope.”
The chains must be spelled, because Klaus is exerting every ounce of force he has in an attempt to break free. He hasn’t seen a cursed stake like this since one nearly killed his sister over fifteen years ago. “Where did you get that?” he growls.
Leanne strokes the stake almost sensually. “When the Strix left town all those years ago, they left some things behind. And the witches of New Orleans are not ones to pass up an opportunity like this.”
“So this is your plan?” Klaus turns back to Alastair. “Stake me with that, have me attack my own daughter? Is this your retribution for a crime committed centuries ago?”
“Well…yes,” Alastair says simply. “You forced me to murder my own child, and now I’m returning the favor.”
Klaus opens his mouth to retort, but he has no words to spit back in Alastair’s face. There is no posturing, no grandstanding that’s going to fix this. If they stake him with the Strix’s cursed stake, he’ll rapidly become the killing machine he used to pride himself on being. And if Hope were anywhere near him…
“Kill me,” he says, bravado evaporated. “Bring me to Marcel and let him bite me, but kill me and leave my daughter alone.”
“Fatherhood does that to you,” Alastair says softly. “Reframes everything, makes you never have to think twice about laying down your own life for your child’s. It’s chilling, isn’t it? How easily you’d die for her?” Klaus doesn’t answer, so Alastair continues, “Don’t worry. You won’t have too long to mourn what you’ve done. Once she’s dead, you’ll follow soon after.”
“He’s got her.” Both Klaus and Alastair look at Leanne, who in turn is looking at her phone. “She’s all tied up and waiting for her father to come tear her to shreds.”
Alastair’s answering smile sends a chill up Klaus’s spine.
“Anything?” Hayley asks, pacing a hole in the floor of the study.
Freya shakes her head, which is still bent over the map of New Orleans, Hayley’s blood puddled uselessly in the middle of the French Quarter. “They’re getting even better at cloaking her.”
River’s curled up on one of the couches, tucked in to Rebekah’s side. “This is my fault.”
“You hush,” Rebekah says, rubbing her hand up and down River’s arm comfortingly. “You didn’t take her.”
“I asked her to come meet me, I was the reason she was even there—”
Elijah strides into the room, tapping on his phone. “Niklaus still isn’t answering.”
“Do we think they’ve both been taken?” Rebekah asks.
Hayley makes a face. “It’s not easy to get the drop on Klaus.”
“Unless…” Everyone turns to look at Freya. “What’s the only thing that could lure Klaus into a trap?”
There’s a beat, then River says slowly, “So someone kidnapped Hope to get to Klaus?”
Hayley’s eyes slide shut. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
River jolts with a sudden memory. “Vincent.”
Confused, Freya says, “What about Vincent?”
“He came to see Hope this morning. He told her something…something big, I guess. She wanted to tell me about it when we met up, but obviously…”
“She never got the chance.” Elijah resumes scrolling through his phone, and taps on Vincent’s contact. He presses the device to his ear, and a moment later says, “We need you here. Now.”
When Hope comes to, she’s in a dimly lit room, with no windows and one heavy metal door. If she had to guess, she was somewhere in the catacombs of New Orleans, in one of the witches’ infinite hideouts. She can barely see her hand in front of her face, but judging by the horrible metal jangling she hears every time she moves, she’s still chained up by the cursed manacles that prevent her from doing magic. Groaning in frustration, she awkwardly pats her pockets in search of her cell phone, but it’s gone—not like she would get reception down there anyway.
She clumsily pushes herself to her feet, her body aching. She paces along the back wall of the room; it’s a small space, maybe ten feet or so wide. She starts to walk up one side wall, but then stumbles over something large on the ground—a body.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, and she kneels down to inspect the person on the ground. The lack of movement tells her that whoever it is, they’re unconscious—or worse. It’s so dark she can barely make out the shape, but when her fingers touch curls at the top of the person’s head—too long, in desperate need of a haircut—she chokes back a sob. “Dad?”
Klaus doesn’t respond.
Hope’s breath is coming quick and shallow, but when she recognizes the vague shape of something long and thin protruding from her father’s chest, she leaps on it, yanking the stake from his heart and tossing it to the side.
“Wake up,” she pleads, shaking his shoulders. “Please, Dad, wake up.”
When Vincent arrives, he’s not alone. Just behind him is a beautiful woman with large eyes and flowing dark hair. The pair steps into the empty courtyard. “Hello?” Vincent calls, voice echoing against the brick and stone.
“What did you tell her?”
Vincent and his guest twist their heads up to see Hayley on the balcony above, face taut. She leaps over the rail and lands in front of them, as easily as taking a step. “Someone took my daughter, and if has anything to do with what you told her this morning, I will kill you.”
Vincent runs a tired hand over his face. “Hayley, look—”
“What did you tell her?” There’s poison in Hayley’s voice. Suddenly Elijah is there, just behind her, to put a hand on her shoulder.
“He told her of my reading,” the woman offers. She steps forward. “My name is Ivy, and I’m a Seer. This morning I was doing a tarot reading, and what I saw…I told Vincent, and he warned Hope.”
Hayley opens her mouth hotly, but Elijah cuts across her. “Please tell us what you read, Ivy.” Hayley closes her mouth.
“The three cards were the Tower, the Emperor reversed, and Judgement.”
“So it is about Klaus.” Freya’s coming down the stairs, Rebekah and River right behind her. “Whoever took Hope did so to get to her father.”
Quietly, Elijah says, “Please explain, sister.”
But Freya nods to Ivy, who continues, “These cards mean sudden upheaval, tyranny, and reckoning.”
“That certainly sounds like our Nik,” Rebekah says, but there’s no humor in her voice. “What are we going to do about it?”
“These cards couldn’t be any more specific?” Hayley snaps.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy says, and there’s an earnestness in her voice that Hayley can’t ignore. “Tarot is about patterns, themes, general things to be aware of. They’re not visions. I don’t get details.”
Hayley runs her hand through her hair, nerves frayed. “Okay, what’s our game plan?”
“She’s being cloaked, so either she was taken by witches or by someone with witch help,” Freya says.
Vincent nods. “I’ll start asking questions.”
“I’ll do another reading,” Ivy offers. “I can’t make any promises, but maybe I’ll get something helpful.”
“I’ll head to some vampire hangouts,” Hayley snarls, already halfway out the door.
“Right behind you,” Rebekah calls.
In a blink, everyone’s off to their tasks, and River is left alone, staring hopelessly at the bubbling fountain.
Hope bangs against the metal door, but it’s useless. “Help!” she calls out of the small, barred opening in the door. “Help!” But the only response is her own echo.
She hears a low groan behind her, and she whips around. “Dad!” She’s back on her knees, by his side. “Dad, you’re okay.”
“Hope…” He lugs himself up onto one arm. “…you have to get out of here…”
“We’re trapped,” she said. “The door is spelled. There is no getting out of here.”
Klaus is silent, but one hand comes up to feel the hole in his shirt where the stake once protruded.
“I took it out,” Hope clarifies. “It wasn’t white oak, so you should be fine.”
“You should have left it in.” Klaus climbs to his feet and stalks to the door, slamming his fist against it. It doesn’t budge.
Still on the floor, Hope’s confused. “Leave it in? Why?”
But Klaus doesn’t answer. Instead he yanks repeatedly on the bars of the little window, trying to dislodge them.
“Dad?” He keeps tugging on the bars, so Hope stands and puts a hand on his arm in an attempt to still him. “Dad, what—”
Klaus shakes her off violently, and whips his head to snap at her. “You need to stay away from me.”
Hope’s eyes go wide as she stumbles back. She’s never seen her father this angry—at least, not at her. There’s fury in his eyes, but even in the dim light, she can see something else—fear?
“What’s happening?”
He gives up on removing the bars, and slumps against the door. Hand on his face, he murmurs, “Hope…”
Hope notices something reflecting the little light from the lit candles outside the door. “Dad, there’s something on your arm.”
Klaus lifts his arm up to inspect it. Glowering back at him on his skin is a raised, pale skull.
Marcel steps into Rousseau’s, nodding to Amaya behind the bar. He slides onto the stool and asks her, “Busy day?”
“Not too bad,” she answers with an easy smile. “My shift ends soon, hoping to have some time to catch up with Freya.”
“How’re things going with you two?” Marcel probes as she pours him a glass of bourbon.
“Good. She’s a great teacher if you need a crash course in the supernatural world of New Orleans.”
“You could definitely do worse.” Marcel takes a sip. There a raucous laugh from somewhere behind him, and Amaya looks over, frowning. Setting the glass down, Marcel asks, “Got some rowdy customers?”
“Just some guy celebrating something,” she sighs, and she gestures toward the customer in question. Marcel turns, and is surprised to see Alastair Duquesne, seated a table with several other customers, surrounded by empty pint glasses.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Marcel breathes.
Amaya’s brow furrows. “You know him?”
“Sure do.” Marcel turns back around and downs the rest of his bourbon in one gulp. Then he stands and grabs two things out of his pocket: a twenty-dollar bill and his cell. He passes the bill to Amaya and says, “Keep the change. I gotta deal with this.” And then he heads out of the bar, already dialing.
“What is that?”
“It’s nothing,” Klaus insists, inspecting the walls for a weak spot and avoiding Hope’s gaze.
Hope clenches her jaw. “You’re right. It’s perfectly normal so sprout scars that look like skulls on your arm. My mistake.”
“You know, Hope, now isn’t the most convenient time for your particular brand of sardonic wit.”
“Now also isn’t the most convenient time for you to lie to me. I can’t help us if I don’t know what’s going on.”
For the first time, Klaus notices the clanking metal that follows Hope whenever she moves. “What is that?”
“Dark Object chains. They’re preventing me from doing magic.”
Klaus is in front of her in a blink. He grasps the iron and attempts to yank it apart, but it’s just as stubborn as the door. “They’ve been spelled on.”
“I would’ve guessed.”
Klaus’s nostrils flare, but he moves on. “We have to get you out of here, immediately.” He returns to the walls, feeling around.
Hope’s voice is quiet when she asks, “What does the skull mean, Dad?”
Klaus stops, braces himself against the wall with one arm, and hangs his head. Still not looking at her, he says, “Do you remember the hex that your mother had to have siphoned out of your aunt Rebekah?”
“Yes.”
“A stake just like the one you pulled out of me is what infected her with that hex.”
Hope stays quiet, trying to remember what her mother told her about Rebekah’s curse all those years ago. “That hex…it made her…violent, didn’t it?”
Klaus doesn’t answer.
“Okay…” She bends down to pick up the stake again. This time she notices that at the hilt, dozens of creepy skulls have been carved into the wood. “What if I stake you again?”
Finally, Klaus looks at her. “What?”
Hope shrugs. “It’s a stake. Cursed or not, it’ll knock you out, at least for a little while, won’t it?”
There’s a long pause, then Klaus steps over to her, places his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her forehead. “No matter what your mother says, you got your brains from me.” He wraps his hand around hers over the stake and gently moves the wood against his chest. “Best do it quick, then, luv.”
Hopes nods and takes a deep breath. Then, screwing her eyes shut, she presses hard with all her might, shoving the stake into her father’s heart. He gasps slightly, and when she finally pries her eyes open, a grayness is creeping up his face. He falls to the ground, dead.
“Okay,” she mutters to herself, moving quickly to the door. “Out of here, gotta get out of here…”
She tries whacking her manacles against the metal door frame, hoping to cracked the rusted iron, but it’s fruitless. She inspects the door and the walls around it for any sigil or sign of what kind of magic is keeping them spelled in, but either there’s nothing to find or it’s too dark for her to see it. With a frustrated groan, she kicks the door, immediately regretting it; she hops on one foot, cursing under her breath, until a cracking sound distracts her from the throbbing in her toe. She turns to see her father slowly pulling the cursed stake out of his chest.
“Guess that didn’t work,” Hope sighs, but instead of replying, Klaus tosses the stake aside and pushes himself to his feet. Slowly, he turns to face his daughter—and ice rushes down Hope’s spine as she sees cold, black eyes staring unblinking back at her.
Marcel’s steps echo off the stone in the compound. “Klaus!”
“He’s not here.” Elijah descends the stairs, approaching Marcel with long strides. “He and his daughter are both missing.”
That stops Marcel short. “Hope’s gone?” Elijah nods. “Then my news is definitely important.”
“What news, Marcel?”
“I just spotted Alastair Duquesne in Rousseau’s, having himself a party of one.”
Elijah’s brow furrows as he racks his memory. “Duquesne…Scottish fellow?”
“Yeah, he was one of the vamps who organized the yearly celebration of Klaus’s sirelings.”
Elijah’s voice turns light and airy. “Oh yes, that quaint tradition developed while you held my brother bricked in a wall, I’m quite familiar.”
Marcel’s eyes narrow. “If he’s in town, it can only mean one thing. He’s looking to get his revenge on Klaus, and probably on Hope, too, since she’s the one who sprung him from that wall.”
“And what exactly did my dear brother do to inspire retribution from Mr. Duquesne?”
“Turned him into a vampire and forced him to kill his entire estate, including his wife and child.”
Elijah’s face blooms in surprise. His eyes stare a thousand miles away, and his voice is a hoarse whisper when he says, “Marcellus, do you remember when I taught you Italian using Dante’s Commedia?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Do you remember the concept of contrapasso?”
“Yeah, it’s the idea that your punishment in Hell must be a reflection of the sin that landed you there.” As he says it, the realization hits him. “Jesus Christ.”
Elijah grows impossibly pale. “He’s going to make him kill his own daughter.”
“Dad…” Hope backs up slowly, only creating a few feet of distance between them before her back hits the corner. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Hope. Your daughter.”
“Do you know what my first instinct was when I found out about you?” Klaus sounds wrong, like it’s someone else’s voice coming out of his mouth. “I wanted to rip you out of your whore mother and kill you both.”
Hope flinches, but tries to calm her shaky voice, “Dad, this isn’t you, this is the hex—”
“A lesson from father to daughter…” He takes a threatening step forward. “Always trust your instincts.”
He lunges, and Hope shrinks down with a shriek. The sound echoes terribly in the tiny room, and Klaus jerks to a halt, eyes suddenly clear. He looks down in horror at his daughter’s curled, trembling body, and in a flash he throws himself into the opposite corner, as far from her as he can get.
“Hope,” he rasps, “Hope, I’m so sorry.”
Hope claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her dry sob, then claws her way up the wall. “It’s okay,” she breathes, and she’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. “It’s okay.”
“Hope, the longer this goes on, the less control I’ll have over myself. You have to get out.”
“I can’t.” Hope’s voice is edged with desperation. “Without my magic I’m useless.”
“You’ve always been useless.” His voice is wrong again, and Hope’s heart stops. “Always the family burden. How many times have we had to save you from this threat or that?” She can’t see more than the outline of him, but he’s approaching slowly. “How many times have we laid our lives on the line for you?”
“Dad, please—”
And then he’s on her, gripping her upper arms so tightly that she feels the bone fracture, and she yelps in pain. “Don’t call me that,” he snarls viciously. “You’re not my child, you’re a mistake I made one night over too much whiskey.”
“You’re my dad,” she snaps, even though her throat is thick with tears. “You’re my dad, and you love me.” His face is inches from hers, twisted and unrecognizable. “You love me so much you sacrificed years of your life to keep me safe! You love me so much you faked my own death when I wasn’t even twenty-four hours old! You sent me to hide with Rebekah and let the world think you were grieving me! You don’t make sacrifices like that for someone unless you love them more than you love yourself!”
“Perhaps I’ve sacrificed too much,” Klaus hisses. “Perhaps it’s time I reclaimed my life from the curse you’ve put on it.” He pulls her closer and slams her back against the wall, and the breath whooshes out of her body.
Hope manages to squeeze her hands up between their bodies and shoves him with all her might. He stumbles back, and it’s enough for her to break free from his grip and dart to the other side of their prison. When she turns back to look at him, he seems shaken by the shove, and he blinks at her. His eyes are shining, and she knows her father is back. “Hope…” His voice is so small she can barely hear him.
She doesn’t know what to say. She just stares at him, tears flowing silently down her face.
Elijah finds Freya and Vincent up in the clock tower, both of them bent over another map of the Quarter, chanting low and in sync. “Anything?”
Freya’s eyes flash up and, without stopping her chant, shakes her head.
“Vincent, what do you know of Alastair Duquesne?”
That gets the witches to stop. “Alastair Duquesne? He was some dick vampire who’d come ‘round once a year with all the others to party over the fall of Klaus Mikaelson. Why?”
“He’s back in town, and Marcel and I believe…” He swallows thickly, and his voice drops low. “We believe he intends to have Klaus murder Hope.”
Freya covers her mouth with a hand, her entire body shaking. Vincent’s face is ashen. “What do we need to do?”
“Tell me everything you know about Duquesne,” Elijah says urgently. “Anything you can remember.”
“Can’t remember much, man, I never really knew him. He’d roll up to town with his posse of ancient vamp friends, they’d feed on locals, tourists, and skip out after a few days, leave the rest of us to clean up his mess. The last time he was in town…” Vincent quirks an eyebrow. “Last time he was in town, Hope was in the process of breakin’ her dad outta Marcel’s little prison. Marcel ‘n’ I had to fight all of ‘em off so she could do her thing. He left as soon as Klaus was freed.”
“Did he have any allies, anyone in the city willing to give him aid?”
Vincent snaps his fingers. “Theo LeRoy.”
Freya lowers her hand. “But Theo’s in the Penitentiary.”
Vincent shakes his head. “They were working together. I know where Theo used to hole up, plan her dirty work. Plenty of places for him to stash a vampire and a tribrid.”
Elijah’s already turned for the door, phone in hand as he searches for Hayley’s contact. “Let’s go.”
“Hope, I need you to find a way to kill me.”
Hope shakes her head vigorously, face still streaked with tears. “I can’t,” she breathes. “I can’t, I can’t…”
Klaus feels it, the white-hot rage bubbling under his skin. He’s on a tightrope, one breath away from teetering over the edge and out of control. “The things I say when I…” He swallows thickly. “They’re not real. You are the most important thing in a thousand years. The only important thing.”
With a sniff, Hope whispers, “I know.”
She wipes at her face and stands up, still shaken but resolved. “How are we getting out of here?”
Klaus’s heart is a chasm, yawning and deep. “I don’t know,” he admits, and the truth has never felt so sharp.
Vincent stops before a nondescript door in an alley off Ursulines. Elijah wrenches it open to reveal a dark, narrow set of stairs leading underground. Before he can take a step, he feels a new presence at his side.
“I’m going first,” Hayley says, no room for debate in her tone.
Still, Elijah says, “This could be a trap.”
Hayley doesn’t repeat herself. Instead, she pushes her way past Elijah and disappears down the stairs. Elijah sighs, but follows half a second later.
Once they’re in the tunnels, the sound of Vincent and Freya’s footsteps echoing above them as they descend as well, Hayley closes her eyes and breathes in. “I can smell her,” she murmurs. “I can smell her fear.” And she’s off, Elijah barely able to keep up.
“Dad?” Hope says into the dark.
“Yes, my littlest wolf?” They’re as far apart as physically possible, crammed into their respective corners.
“I just want you to know…whatever…whatever happens…”
“Don’t talk like that,” Klaus cuts her off, his voice edged with panic. “Don’t…you’re going to be fine.”
Hope presses on, “Whatever happens, I don’t regret any of it. All of the choices I’ve made, all of the choices you made…they gave us what time we had together, and I will never regret that.”
There’s a long silence, and then a cold voice responds, “I know a thing or two about regret.” Hope’s eyes slid shut, and tears fall anew. “I regret every minute wasted protecting you. The tribrid…” Klaus’s voice turns mocking. “Descendant of all three magical species and yet you’re comprised of the worst parts of each…” He starts to prowl toward her. “The weakness of the witch…the irrationality of the wolf…the arrogance of the vampire…”
Arrogance sparks something in Hope’s mind. “Is this really going to be the thing that defeats you? The great Klaus Mikaelson, the thing that monsters have nightmares about, this is what’s going to bring you down? Some chintzy stake and a hex?” Klaus pauses. “You’re going to let…to let some enemy force you to do something? Force you to kill the person you love most? You’re not even going to fight it?”
She blinks, and Klaus is looming over her, fangs gleaming in the dim light. “Why would I fight this? I’ve been dreaming of draining you dry since before you were born. I bet you taste glorious…”
His hand tangles in her hair and wrenches her head to the side, exposing her neck.
Her shriek is deafening. Just as the teeth sink into her sink, she breathes, “Daddy, please.”
And the teeth are gone, and Hope is crumpling to the ground. Klaus stumbles back into the middle of the room, eyes wide. He looks at his daughter, shaking and bleeding, and without saying a word, reaches up, places one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his head, and snaps his own neck.
Hayley and Elijah freeze, the sound of Hope’s scream reverberating in their bones. Vincent and Freya manage to catch up, both winded.
“It came from this way.” Hayley points down a dark corridor in the labyrinthine tunnel system, and they take off. In a beat, they’re at a metal door. The vampires can hear Hope’s heartbeat, fast as a hummingbird’s wing. Hayley yanks on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
“Let me.” Freya steps in front of the door and places her hand on the metal. Vincent joins her, and the two bow their heads. After a few moments of murmuring, the door creaks—it’s open.
Hayley whips the door to the side and is shocked to see Klaus’s unconscious body collapsed on the ground, head contorted at a gruesome angle. Her eyes dart to the corner, where Hope sits, arms around her knees, her own eyes locked on her father.
“Hope.” Hayley rushes to her daughter, wrapping her arms around her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Hope doesn’t answer.
Elijah steps carefully into the room, bends down, and picks up the stake. “Sister.”
Freya takes the stake Elijah extends to her. She nods. “You get him in a car. Looks like we’re taking a road trip.”
One arm still tucked around Hope’s shoulders, Hayley gently eases Hope to her feet. “It’s okay,” she whispers, kissing Hope’s head as she leads the way out of the tiny prison. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Hope is curled up on a sofa in the library, staring into the lit fireplace, unblinking. She’s got a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but despite the heat, she feels ice in her veins. Absentmindedly, she rubs at her wrists, where the phantom feeling of clanging metal still lingers; she’s all healed up, even the fractured bones in her arms, but the ache remains.
There’s a rapping of knuckles on wood behind her, and she starts, head twisting around in a snap. Stars burst in her eyes as they adjust from the warm glow of the fire to the darkness in the hall.
River’s leaning against the doorframe, and she frowns in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Hope shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Her voice is raspy; she hasn’t used it in hours. “Come on in.”
River gently settles beside her girlfriend, raising a hand hesitantly to rest on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
Hope’s back to staring into the fire. “Have you ever had so many thoughts going on at one time that it’s like you’re not having any thoughts at all?”
“…No?”
“Well, that’s pretty much where I’m at.”
“That sounds…shitty.” River sets her chin atop her hand on Hope’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”
“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, and to feel that way about my dad…” She trails off before scrubbing at her eyes. “Is it dumb if I feel guilty?”
River’s face twists with confusion, but it’s Hayley who speaks from the doorway. “What on earth do you feel guilty about?”
Hope doesn’t meet her mother’s eyes as she sits on the opposite sofa. “If I weren’t here…no one would be able to use me to get to Dad. To hurt him. I wouldn’t be his weakness.”
Hayley reaches across to grab her daughter’s hand. “Hope…that’s just what being a parent is. From the minute you were born it was like…someone had torn my heart out of my chest, and it was just…out there, in the world, for anyone to take or to tear apart.” She squeezes Hope’s hand. “You are the greatest joy in your dad’s life. I knew him before you were born, and let me tell you, he needed some joy in his life.”
That cracks a smile onto Hope’s face, and she wipes at her eyes again. “How is he?”
Settling back on her sofa, Hayley says, “I just got off the phone with Elijah. It took some convincing, but they got Caroline Forbes and Alaric Saltzman to agree to let their girls siphon the hex out of your dad. He’s all fixed up.”
“So they’re on their way back?” Hope asks.
Hayley hesitates. “Elijah and Freya are, yes.”
Hope curls in on herself. “He’s not coming home?”
Hayley stands and moves to sit on the other side of Hope, pulling her daughter into her chest. “Oh Hope…your dad just needs some time to…” She sighs. “I don’t know. But he promised he wouldn’t be gone for long.”
“He’s avoiding me.”
And Hayley doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to refute the truth, so she says, “I’m so sorry, Hope.”
Quietly, River asks, “Did they catch who did this?”
“Alastair Duquesne was being helped by two witches, Leanne and Dominic.” Hope sits upright, surprised. “They’re in the Penitentiary.” Hayley’s eyes grow cold. “Alastair is…being taken care of.”
Hope furrows her brow. “What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t have to worry about it.”
Hope’s too tired to feel much of anything, so she lets it go. She tips her head back onto her mother’s shoulder and weaves her fingers through River’s. “Today sucked.”
“Yeah.” River brings the back of Hope’s hand to her lips. “Let’s make tomorrow better.”
I just want to say that after the OG writers completely ruined Elijah in season 4, you writing him the way he actually is is a great relief. I’m still pissed af about what they did, but your alternative story makes me forget about it a little and reminds why I actually love Elijah.
I’m actually not that mad at the way Elijah was written in season four. Sure, they pushed him a lot farther into the realm of darkness than they had previously, but the groundwork for those personality had changes had been lain in earlier seasons. I also thought the whole “killing the kids in the woods” thing was a bit hysterical; at the end of episode four, Hayley asked him what he would have done to those kids if they hadn’t been able to unlink them from the spell, but he did literally nothing actually in the woods to suggest that he was thinking about killing them, and actually allowed himself to be staked so that they would be saved, so the accusation came out of nowhere. There was little shit like that all season, Elijah being accused or blamed of things he didn’t actually do, and him just...taking it, I guess. I don’t know. That annoyed me a lot more than him just being more brusque than usual.
Last night the season two finale of People and Rhythm was posted, and I wanted to first extend a sincere thank-you to everyone who has read and commented on this project of mine from the beginning. I have received such unexpected and kind support from this little community of readers, and it has genuinely changed my life forever. I cannot begin to describe to you how much your messages and reviews have meant to me. Thank you.
I’m also writing to let you know that I currently have no plans to write a third season. I do have a general plot idea for one—one I’d be very interested in writing, if I’m honest—but as for right now, another season just isn’t in the cards for me. I recently started a new full-time job, and today I begin my first semester of graduate school, so my time will be more limited in the near future. I also am hoping to begin an original (no pun intended) work in the new year, so any writing energy that might previously be devoted to fanfiction will be directed elsewhere. That being said, if the writing bug strikes hard and fast, you may just see more of Hope, River, and the rest yet.
Thank you once again for some of the most wonderful few months of my life. I am better for having known all of you.
This episode contains two musical cues. When you come upon a hyperlinked phrase, please click the link to be taken to a YouTube video that will play a song chosen to accompany that scene. The first song is meant to accompany both the scene in which it is hyperlinked and the scene following.
The compound is mostly quiet, a low hum of conversation settled over each floor like bedsheets in summer air. There’s a group of Crescents in the courtyard, watching two among them play pinochle, while a mixed cadre of wolves and vampires bump hips in the kitchen, trying to keep up with the steady demand for food that such a large crowd engenders. The telltale tinkle of the piano indicates that Elijah is entertaining again, a welcome distraction for those trying not to think about the specter of danger lurking around every corner.
Hope finds River sitting halfway up the stairs to the third floor, an open textbook in her lap. It’s not an uncommon sight these days, but Hope can tell by the stillness of her eyes that River hasn’t read so much as a word in quite some time. She doesn’t need to be a vampire to hear the cogs in her head churning in overdrive.
Quietly padding up the stairs, Hope settles a few steps below her girlfriend. Resting her head against the rails of the banister, Hope says casually, “Some week we’re having.”
River snorts, and thumps the textbook closed. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”
“What’re you thinking about?”
Shrugging, River says, “Certainly not…” She checks the cover of the textbook. “Mammalian biology.” She sets the book onto the step beside her with a huff.
“Weird. I wasn’t thinking about mammalian biology either.”
River smiles down at her. “So what’s your grand plan?”
Hope sucks her teeth. “Well, Plan A is the hunters leave town like we asked, and we send Sebastian packing after them a little while later.”
“And on a scale of one to ten, how likely do we find that scenario?”
“Hm…negative twenty? Give or take?”
With a laugh, River says, “Okay, then. What’s Plan B?”
Hope sighs. “Plan B is the hunters try to rescue him, and we kill enough of them that they surrender.”
River’s smile fades. “How do you feel about that?”
Her first instinct is to walk away, to shove herself off those stairs and leave, but running from the question isn’t going to make it go away. “I feel like shit. I get that these are the people who killed Rose, who nearly killed Uncle Elijah and his entire sire line, but that doesn’t…it doesn’t…”
“It doesn’t make killing them any easier.” River scoots down the few steps separating them so she’s sitting next to her girlfriend. “I know how this feels.”
“No you—”
“You’re forgetting that I killed someone, too.” That quiets Hope’s protest. “Sure, it wasn’t…premediated, and sure, he deserved it. But I still have to live with it. The knowledge. It’s a threshold. Something you can’t come back from.” She looks down at her moonlight ring, spinning it round and round her finger.
Hope stares too, and eventually nods at it. “That’s another thing.”
Confused, River asks, “What do you mean?”
“Both of my parents are werewolves. I bear the mark of the Crescent wolves. So…” She takes a deep breath. “So if I’m responsible for the loss of human life, I’ll trigger the curse.”
River smiles wryly. “Hey, it’s not all bad. Besides, one of these things—” She wriggles her hand so the black kyanite glints in the light. “—and you’re good to go.”
Hope blinks. “River. If I trigger the curse…I won’t be a witch anymore.”
River’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”
With a shrug, Hope explains, “I mean, there’s no reason to think I’d keep my powers if I trigger the curse. Magic tends not to mix well with other species.”
“Well—I mean—you don’t know that for sure.”
“No, but…I know that becoming a vampire means you lose your access to magic.”
“Yeah, but becoming a vampire and becoming a werewolf are very different things.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Hope runs her hands nervously along her thighs. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yeah.” River pauses. “Did your mom tell you what she and Mary proposed to me?” Hope shakes her head. “They think I should be the new Crescent alpha.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Hope gives half a shrug. “That’s honestly not a bad idea.”
“Oh my god.”
“Wait, what—”
Before Hope can make her point, there’s the sound of pounding footsteps from down below. The two girls move to the nearest landing in time to see someone come barreling into the courtyard from the street outside. Hope recognizes the tall, reedy woman from the nightwalkers’ hangout.
The vampire’s skin and clothes are stained with blood. Her eyes are wild as she searches for someone, finally landing on Hope up above. “They’re here!”
“Who’s here?” Freya’s on the floor below the girls, looking out over the rail at the panicked nightwalker.
“The hunters. They’re swarming the city. Almost everyone still in the bar…they didn’t make it.”
Hope and River exchange a loaded look. “So it begins,” Hope murmurs, before charging down the stairs.
The grand staircase is so crowded it’s a wonder the massive double doors off of the courtyard don’t bow under the weight of bodies. Hope tried her best to keep this meeting to just those with some modicum of authority, but it didn’t take long for word to spread that the vampire hunters are out for blood, and their numbers are swelling rapidly. Crescents, vampires, and witches alike have poured in to participate in the strategy discussion.
From her place on the landing above, Hope calls down, “Alright, listen up!” The chatter quiets. “Obviously we need to move quickly. There are a lot more hunters than we had originally thought.”
“There are multiple encampments in the woods,” Josh offers. “There could honestly be close to a thousand. Difficult to know for sure.”
“Have a hard time counting that high?” Kol snarks.
“This is serious, Uncle Kol,” Hope sighs. “I’m not going to ask anyone to fight a battle they don’t want to fight.”
Some of the vampire scoff. One of them calls out, “Doesn’t matter how many of ‘em there are. We’re still vampires. We got this.”
“Not all of us can so easily put our lives on the line,” a Crescent wolf retorts. “Some of us have families.”
Sensing a conflict brewing, Hope presses on, “Like I said. This is your city just as much as it is anyone else’s. You get to decide what kinds of sacrifice you’re willing to make. That being said, a battle is coming, and we have to be prepared.”
Vincent steps forward. “The witches will be happy to start casting some protective spells over important areas of the city. Now our cemeteries are covered, but any wolf houses, vampire strongholds. I’ve also thrown together a collection of dark objects for y’all to use, should you want them.”
“Thank you, Vincent.” Hope takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what kind of coordinated effort these hunters are going to make against us, or when, or how, but I would like to remind all of you that these are people, human beings who may have a…misguided view of the world, but are human beings nonetheless. Almost everyone here has abilities far outside the normal human capabilities, and that gives us a distinct advantage, but I also want to remind you that should you survive this attack, you have to live with what you’ve done afterward. So please…just…just don’t kill unless you have to.”
All of the onlookers process Hope’s speech—the vampires with some degree of disregard, which she expected—and Hope smiles grimly. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”
River’s trying doors down a hallway, looking for Mary, when she opens a door to reveal a cluster of people clearly speaking in private. She immediately recoils into the hall. “Sorry, wrong room!” she chirps, but as she closes the door, she realizes who is in there. “Wait.”
She pushes the door open again to see a handful of Crescent wolves, heads tipped together. They’re all looking at her with wide eyes. Cody steps away to glare at her. “Do you mind? This is pack business.”
Ignoring him, she asks, “What’re you guys talking about? We’ve already established our battle plan.”
“Again with this we shit.” Cody rolls his eyes. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s p—”
“Pack business. Yeah, I heard.” River steps fully into the room and crosses her arms. “Except whatever little scheme you’ve got going on here could very well get members of your pack killed, so it’s best that we—all the supernatural communities of New Orleans—work together to defeat our common enemy.”
Cody steps closer, so he’s now glowering down over her. “I don’t care about the common enemy. We wolves can take care of ourselves. We don’t need vampires or witches saving us—we’ll be fine on our own. So you can take your opinion and shove it right up your ass. Ain’t nobody care what some packless bitch has to say.”
“Cody…” Someone says quietly behind him, but Cody waves them off.
River narrows her eyes and leans in. “I may not have a pack, but I have a whole city full of people who depend on me, just like I depend on them. That is the vision of New Orleans that Rose died for. She sacrificed herself so that this city would be whole. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about New Orleans, or even the Crescents for that matter. You care about yourself, and whatever little power trip you’re on.” She shakes her head. “Here’s hoping it doesn’t get your dumb ass killed.”
“You stupid bitch—”
Cody lunges forward, but he’s pulled up short by a sharp bark. “Cody!”
Everyone turns to see Mary in the doorway, back straight and eyes cold. “You touch a hair on her head and our queen will pull your entrails up through your throat with her mind.”
Nostrils flaring, Cody huffs and storms back to the group. Mary addresses them all, “You heard Hope earlier. Ain’t nobody gonna make you fight a battle you’re not interested in fighting. It’s up to you. If you want to be a part of this city, like River said, then we got plenty of work to go around. If not…well, you know where the door is.” She gives River an inscrutable look, and then turns and disappears down the hall.
Cross-legged on her bed, Hope sits with her back straight and her eyes closed. Before long, she can feel the nearly imperceptible shift in the air that means she’s achieved her goal, and she opens her eyes. Her bedroom doesn’t look any different, but there’s a slight wrongness that she’s come to recognize.
“Esther?” she calls out, pushing herself off of the bed and onto the floor. She peers around the corner to the balcony outside, but sees nothing.
“Hello, my child.”
Despite herself, Hope cracks a small smile and turns around. “I definitely see where my father gets his habit of making dramatic entrances from.”
Esther smiles back, still radiant in glowing white. “How may I help you, Hope?”
“This is it, isn’t it? The threat from outside the city?” Esther nods. “What do I do?”
“You protect those who matter most to you.”
“But what about…these are people, too. Humans. And even though they want to hurt the people I care about…”
Esther’s smile turns soft. “Sometimes it is easy to forget that you are not only a Mikaelson. You are certainly your mother’s daughter.”
“I try,” Hope replies wryly.
Esther settles gracefully on the edge of the bed, and Hope takes a spot beside her. Esther begins, “You have a choice to make, as we all do, during our lives. Sacrifices will be made today, and it is up to you to decide who should have to make those sacrifices.”
“What gives me that right?” Hope asks. “I’m just one person. These people have lives, families, futures—”
“This is what it means to be a queen, Hope.” Esther places a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. “This is what it means to lead.”
Hope huffs a tiny breath. “Is it too late to back out?”
With a laugh, Esther says, “I think so.”
There’s a long pause during which grandmother and granddaughter sit side by side in silence. Then Hope asks quietly, “What happens if I trigger my werewolf aspect tonight?”
Esther hums in thought. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Hope. I have never met a witch such as yourself, a witch who also carries the werewolf gene. This is excepting, of course, my own son, your father, who became vampire before either his witch or his werewolf abilities manifested, so it is impossible to use him as an example.”
“Right.” Hope nods nervously. “Right, yeah. We can’t really know.”
“I find that dwelling on our greatest fears does little to help us prepare for them.”
“Yeah.” Hope smiles up at her grandmother. “Thanks. For talking with me. For all your help since this whole mess started.”
“I believe I have rather a lot to make up for, considering…”
“Considering you tried to kill me before I was even born?”
“I was going to phrase it a touch more delicately than that.”
“Eh.” Hope waves dismissively. “Water under the bridge. I survived. That’s all that matters.”
“Yes,” Esther says, smoothing down Hope’s bright red locks. “You are surely a survivor.”
River wanders through the halls of the compound, munching on an apple. She watches people bustle this way and that, getting themselves ready to go out into the streets of New Orleans and fight the invading hunters. The compound echoes with the sounds of witches chanting protections into place, spells that will keep their enemies at bay. She tries to keep out of the way, has no idea what to do with herself in the midst of the chaos.
She feels a tug on her elbow, and turns to see her girlfriend staring at her imploringly. “C’mon,” she says, and without waiting for a reply, drags River into a closet.
Once the door is closed, Hope gropes around for the light switch. River blinks against the sudden flood of light, and quips, “I thought the whole point of us dating was that we didn’t need to be in closets anymore.”
“Har har.” Hope crosses her arms and looks River dead in the eye. “I think you should go back to Tallahassee.”
River’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”
“This is going to be bad, really bad, and these people have already tried to kill you once. I don’t want to risk them doing a better job of it this time around.”
“Now hang on—”
“Plus we know they’ve got Marcel’s venom on their side. If you die, members of my family might very well die with you. We only have the little supply of your venom left, and it’ll be hard enough going back and finding the other packs to get their venom to add to the cure.”
“Hope!” River grabs her girlfriend by the shoulder. “Calm down.” Hope lets out a long, slow breath. “First of all, I can always go strap on that mask right now and give you some more venom to keep in storage for later. Honestly, I probably should have been doing that this whole time, now that I think about it.”
“Okay, but—”
“And second? I’m not going anywhere.”
“River—”
“I. Am not. Going. Anywhere.” River places her hands on either side of Hope’s face. “What kind of wolf would I be if I let this pack put their lives on the line for New Orleans without me? What kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you to face this on your own?”
“I won’t be on my own,” Hope insists. “I’ll have my family.”
“Well, you’ll have me, too.”
“And what kind of girlfriend would I be if I have to tell your mother that you died in some conflict that you didn’t even sign up for?”
River rolls her eyes. “I am signing up for it, dumbass, that’s the entire point I’m trying to make. You don’t have some kind of monopoly on wanting to fight for the things you care about.”
Hope stays quiet, and the two of them look at each other for a long time. Finally, Hope says, “Fine. But if you die, I’m gonna kill you, you understand?”
River knocks their foreheads together. “Ditto.”
The moon hangs high in the night sky, and in the crooked shadows of New Orleans, hundreds of vampire hunters gather around the Mikaelson compound, indistinguishable from the tourists and revelers in the streets. They’re pressed up against the building, in the windows across the street, tucked into alley corners. Their numbers seem endless, and the weapons strapped to their bodies innumerable.
Ringing the building is a line of mostly women, Lorena at their head, none with weapons of their own. They join hands and bow their heads, and as one, begin to chant. “Libérer à vérité à. Libérer à vérité à. Libérer à vérité à.”
And just like that, the assault on the supernatural communities of New Orleans begins.
Their forces are spread out throughout the compound, on every floor, in every room. No one is unarmed; whether with knives, shotguns, crossbows, fangs, claws, or magic, the dozens and dozens of supernatural New Orleans residents are fully ready for the guests at the gate.
“You ready?” River whispers to Hope, both of them standing on the first floor balcony, eyes locked on the entryway.
Hope can feel the wards placed over the compound dissolve; most of the witches with families chose to stay and protect their homes and other important locations throughout the city, which Hope couldn’t begrudge them. The small coven travelling with the hunters could easily dispatch of the protections—and besides, Hope thinks, a smirk spreading across her face, let them come.
They hear the war cries before they see their attackers, and Hope murmurs to her girlfriend, “Let’s light ‘em up.”
It’s not so much an army as an ocean; waves and waves of hunters pour in, not just from the front gates, but from the windows, from the roof. They are everywhere—Hope’s first instinct is actually to be impressed that a band of humans have managed to assemble such formidable forces.
But they were still no match for her city.
The slaughter starts immediately. Vampires tear into flesh, stakes whizz through the air, and the sounds of death provide the score to a shocking carnage. Hope manipulates her hands through the air, mumbling spells under her breath to keep these people that she loves so dearly safe.
River steps nimbly through the fracas that quickly spills up staircases and through doors. She watches Rebekah Mikaelson plunge her fist into the chest of a hunter and pull out his heart, as casually as plucking an apple from a tree. There’s a pair of witches spilling salt in circles on the stone floors, trapping hunters in their places so that the vampires have an easier go of things.
She spies Freya up ahead, twisting hunters’ heads around with the snap of her fingers. She runs up and shouts, “Where’s Amaya?”
“Someplace safe,” Freya replies, stretching out a hand to halt a line of hunters in their tracks. “She shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”
“No,” River agrees, watching the horror with wide eyes. “No one should.”
There are too many bodies in the compound. Even the expansive halls and high ceilings can’t stop the overwhelming press of skin to skin as vampires and witches and wolves fight for their lives against the inundating forces of the hunters. Hope spends most of her time shielding others from the hunters’ attacks, turning arrows and wooden bullets to ash in midair. She tugs a Ninth Ward witch out of the way just as a knife-wielding hunter comes gunning for her. She points to a cluster of vampires by the grand staircase. “Go help them!” she shouts to the witch, before turning to the next catastrophe.
She sees Kol up ahead, expertly fighting off a least two dozen hunters, and steps forward to help, but suddenly she’s flying through the air. She slams against the brick of the wall with a sickening thud, and flops down to the stone floor. With a groan, she pushes herself up. Her entire body throbs. She turns to get a look at her attacker, and a young woman with large, dark eyes is glaring at her from a corner. She recognizes her from Amaya’s description: Lorena, Sebastian’s witch.
Lorena quirks an eyebrow, an obvious challenge, and then disappears into the crowd. Despite the pain shooting through her body, Hope pushes herself off of the ground and chases after her. She twists down corridors, catching sight of the other witch just as she slips through the door to the tunnels underground. Hope pushes through the crowds to the door, which she wrenches open and, without a second thought, storms down the stairs into the bowels of New Orleans.
She hears laughter up ahead, and knows she’s being taunted—and doesn’t care. “So you’re the great queen of New Orleans,” Lorena calls back with a mocking lilt in her tone. “I can’t believe a powerful witch like you would debase herself to ally with vampires and werewolves.”
Hope takes slow, deliberate steps, feeling her way through the dark tunnels. “I’m not their ally,” she says. “I’m their family. My parents, my aunts and uncles, my girlfriend—I don’t have the liberty of being cavalier with the lives of people who are different than me.”
She takes another step forward, and bounces off of an invisible wall. She quickly removes the magical barrier just in time to get hit with a force like a hammer in her stomach. She stumbles back as Lorena appears in front of her, hand outstretched. Hope whips her own out, and Lorena goes flying into the tunnel wall, hitting the clay with an oof.
“You’re killing innocent people,” Hope snarls. “People with lives, people with families.”
Lorena curls her fingers, and fire erupts in a circle around them, trapping them within a few feet of each other. “We’re killing monsters—and monster sympathizers.” Her fist snaps shut, and Hope’s leg twists painfully.
She cries out, but then takes a deep breath and, with just a flick of her eyes, launches Lorena up into the ceiling. When the other witch crashes back down to the ground, Hope shouts, “I don’t want to hurt you, but unless you help me call this off, I will.”
Blood drips ominously from Lorena’s nose. “Keep it up. I can do this all night. When I’m done with you I’ll finish off your bitch girlfriend.” Hope stops breathing. “I saw all about her in Marcel Gerard’s head. Get rid of her, get rid of the cure, right?”
Hope’s entire body shakes, a bone-deep, rattling shake that spreads from her core out to the tips of her fingers. Jaw set, she slowly lifts her hands, and in one swift move, blasts Lorena backward. The witch crashes through the fire boundary she’d created, and the force of Hope’s blast reverberates through the tunnel. She seethes, her breath coming too quickly, but she suddenly goes quiet when she feels the ground beneath her shudder.
And there’s nothing Hope can do when, before she can move, the entire tunnel collapses before her, caving in right on top of Lorena’s prostrate body.
Hayley finishes tearing off the arm of one hunter just in time to turn around and snap the neck of another. The floor is mosaicked with bodies, most of them hunters’, but some vampires, some wolves. The witches are mostly okay; she looks up to see them circling the topmost balcony, casting spells and enchantments as they spot opportunities to help.
She hears rapidly approaching steps from behind, and she whirls to confront her next attacker, but stops in her tracks when the ground beneath her feet trembles violently. She looks around, confused, and spies Klaus a few yards away, just as bewildered as she.
She zips away from her would-be assailant, appearing suddenly by Klaus’s side. “What was that?”
“No idea,” he snaps, grabbing a hunter by the throat and tossing him several dozen feet into a crowd of fighters. “It must have come from the tunnels.”
Hayley’s blood runs cold. “Where is Hope?”
Klaus freezes, eyes scanning the mayhem as his ears seek a familiar heartbeat. When he can’t locate her, he barks, “C’mon,” and the two shove their way through the battle to the tunnel entrance.
“Shit,” Hope breathes, falling to her knees at the edge of the mountain of rubble. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” She begins digging, grabbing hunks of clay and stone and tossing them behind her. Within a minute her hands are cut and bloody, and she suddenly rememberss she has magic.
She raises her hands to lift some of the rocks out of the way, but she’s shaking so badly that she can only move them a few feet at time. She curses, and starts digging again.
“Hope?”
She doesn’t turn around when she hears a familiar voice behind her. “We have to get her out.”
Her mother appears by her side, panicked hands roaming her face and arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”
“She’s in there,” Hope snaps unhelpfully.
Klaus examines the cave-in, confused. “Who’s in there?”
“The witch, Lorena. We were f-fighting, and…” She stares at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. “Mom, if she dies…”
Realization dawns on Hayley’s face, and she nods, “Alright. Let’s get her out.”
“Why?” Klaus shrugs. “Let her die. She is working with our enemies.”
Hayley’s voice is low when she says, “Klaus, we are not going to let our daughter be responsible for the loss of a life, do you understand?”
The pieces click together, and Klaus nods, and then the three begin digging their way through the collapsed tunnel.
Cody tears his way through the ruckus, fangs bared and heart racing. He rips hunters apart like they’re made out of paper, but more come, pouring in through every door and window like a flood. He slashes open chests with his claws and snaps necks like twigs. He loves this, revels in the violence and the blood, and even though he’s starting to tire, even though it seems as though the battle is never going to end, he can’t get enough of it.
He spies a vampire, one of the daywalkers with a penchant for scaring wolf families when they first started to move into the Quarter, dispatching with a pair of hunters just down the hall from him. Cody bends down and snaps the leg off of a wooden chair, and when the vampire’s back is turned, charges for him. The vampire is so consumed with his next kill that he doesn’t notice the stake until it’s already been driven through his heart.
Cody smiles down as the vampire’s body begins to desiccate on the floor. He stalks off, a song in his heart, completely oblivious to the fellow Crescent watching him from the shadows, shock and horror on her face.
Between the three of them, the mountain of clay and rock quickly shrinks, but Lorena is still trapped inside, and has been for some time. Hope’s fingers ache with the work, but she’s desperate to get her out, to see that she is still breathing.
Klaus tosses a large hunk of rock to the side. “Shouldn’t we let this witch die, and let Hope trigger the werewolf curse?”
Hope looks at him, scandalized. “I could lose my powers if I become a wolf, Dad!”
“Or you could become the most powerful witch the world has ever known. Isn’t that worth the risk?”
Hayley narrows her eyes. “Klaus, for once in your endless life, shut up.”
“There!” Hope flings a few more rocks out of the way, and reveals a pale, still hand. Hayley’s extended claws dig the hole open further, and soon there is enough room for her to gently tug the top half of Lorena’s body free of its confines.
Hope leans in close. “She’s not breathing!” Her voice shakes with panic.
“Here.” Hope looks up to see her father leaning over her, his wrist outstretched. There’s a deep gouge in it, the blood running freely. Hope’s eyes widen in surprise, and Klaus nods. “If there’s a chance to save her, take it.”
Hope guides her father’s bitten wrist to Lorena’s still mouth. “C’mon,” she murmurs. “C’mon, please drink it. Please wake up.”
In a thousand years, Elijah Mikaelson has never seen so much blood.
It coats every surface, horizontal or vertical, of his family’s home. It drips from the walls, pools on the staircases. It is stained on the skin of dozens of bodies, some moving, some not, piled up like debris throughout the compound.
Elijah steps carefully, his suit jacket long abandoned, making his way through the aftermath of war. He bends down to check on people occasionally, mostly feeling nothing when he presses two fingers to their wrists. As he winds through the corridors, surveying the damage done to the home he just finished fixing from its last great battle, he spies a familiar face, resting in a corner, eyes closed.
He grabs Jordan by the front of his shirt and hoists him into the air, jarring the hunter awake. “What the hell?” Jordan gasps, struggling to get free.
Elijah’s grasp is firm. “Look at this. This carnage. This horror. This is your doing. This blood, blood unlike that which I’ve seen in my endless life, this blood is on your hands.
“Few of your brethren remain. Collect them and leave, or the slaughter will continue.”
He drops Jordan to the ground and stalks off. Jordan glares at his back, stifling a groan of pain.
Hope’s blood runs cold as she stares at Lorena’s body, still and pale. Hayley places a tentative hand on her back, but Hope just stares, mouth ajar. Somewhere, in the back of her shocked mind, the thought spins: When will it happen? When will I become—
The gasp is so loud, so sudden, that even Klaus flinches in surprise. Lorena’s eyes fly open, and she gulps in large breaths of air.
“Holy shit,” Hope breathes, clutching at the girl’s arm to check for a pulse. She’s alive.
“You saved me,” Lorena coughs, pushing herself up. “Why did you save me?”
Hope’s face turns from relieved to grim. “Unlike you, and the rest of your people, I am not a killer. I saved you, and in return, you’re going to listen, and listen good.”
Josh helps a fellow vampire to his feet, tugging the stake implanted just inches from his heart out of his chest. He looks around at the bodies strewn about all around him, and understands more than ever why this building was once referred to as the Abattoir.
He notices a young Crescent woman struggling to move, and in a blink is at her side. “Hey, I got you.” He slides an arm around her waist and lifts her up.
“Thanks,” she murmurs with a small smile.
The two are distracted by a sudden voice from above. “Hunters!”
Two floors up, looking down over the balcony’s edge, stand Jordan and Lorena, each looking considerably worse for the wear, flanked on all sides by the Mikaelson family. Lorena calls out, “To all of our hunters, who came here with hate in our hearts…it’s time for us to retreat.”
A few faces, bloodied and bruised, peer upward, expressionless. “Despite the damage done here tonight, we have been shown great mercy by Hope Mikaelson and her family. They are allowing us to take our dead and leave in peace.”
“Sebastian will be returning to us once we’re out of the state,” Jordan adds. “They’ve promise not to harm him, as long as we leave tonight.”
Silence reigns over the compound, and then one hunter, drenched in blood and limping, steps into view. He looks up at Jordan and Lorena, nods, and, without a word, hobbles toward the exit. One by one, the surviving hunters follow suit, and soon, the supernatural denizens of New Orleans are left to piece together their lives once more.
There aren’t too many casualties on the side of the New Orleans residents, but there are still bodies to identify, too-late goodbyes to say. The survivors come together in the courtyard, the fountain bubbling over with viscous blood, and sit in tired, mournful silence.
Not everyone is quiet, though. Cody bounds in from the kitchen, tearing into an apple with vigor. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” he asks the room. He’s met with blank stares. “Kicked those hunters’ asses. Won’t be messing with the Crescents any time in the future.”
More silence. Then a small voice says, “Wasn’t just the hunters you fought.”
Eyes turn to a Crescent woman, her jean jacket torn along one shoulder. Her gaze is steady on Cody, who squints back at her. “What’re you talking about?”
“I saw you. A few floors up. You staked a vampire.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. “What’s this?” River pushes her way into view, eyes bouncing from Crescent to Crescent. “What’s going on?”
Josh gestures to the Crescent woman. “She says Cody here staked a vampire during the fight.” A few of the vampires snarl.
River’s jaw drops. “Is that true?”
Beneath the bravado, Cody’s panic is becoming more evident. “Whatever. A battle’s a battle, the Crescents’ve got more enemies than just a bunch of half-assed vampire hunters.”
Some nightwalkers jerk forward in anger, but River storms past them. She shoves Cody into the brick of the compound wall, their feet sliding and knocking together on the slick floors. She lowers her fangs and extends her claws. “Get out,” she growls.
“What?”
“Get out. Out of this house, out of this pack, hell, out of Louisiana for all I care. You are no longer welcome here.”
Cody shoves back, but he can’t shake River off of him. “You can’t tell me shit, little girl. You ain’t our alpha. You ain’t even a part of this pack.”
From behind them, the Crescent woman says, “Yes she is.” A few other voices chime in with their agreements, and River looks around in awe. “I’d follow her over you any day, Cody,” the woman says. “The Crescents needs an alpha who is brave, and intelligent, and fair, and kind, and lord knows you ain’t any of those things, Cody.”
River slowly releases her hold on Cody, and both of them stare at the Crescents who, one by one, step forward to show their support. Mary appears, Hayley right behind her, and says in a low voice, “You’re a threat to this pack now, Cody. To everythin’ we’ve been tryin’ to build here. It’s high time you left, and never came back.”
Scandalized, Cody gapes between Crescent and Crescent, finding no allies among the onlookers. He takes in the disgust on their faces—and the burning hatred on the faces of the vampires—and sneers, “Fine. See how well you do without me—without a real leader.” And then he storms out, cutting a dangerous path through his now-enemies.
When his angry stomps fade into silence, all eyes turn once more to River, who looks back at her new pack with an inscrutable expression. They smile back, each with some degree of hopeful uncertainty. River clears her throat and says weakly, “I don’t…I don’t know what I’m doing…”
The Crescent woman steps forward and places a comforting hand on her arm. “That’s okay. We don’t know what we’re doing, either. We just need someone to help us figure it out.”
River’s eyes flick over to Mary and Hayley, who nod in encouragement. “Yeah,” she says, nodding herself. “Yeah, okay. Why the hell not?”
The early morning sun is dancing between the buildings of Chartres Street as the Mikaelson family gathers in Mama Rae’s, the tiny store owner unlocking her doors just for the war-weary group. With them are some friends; Marcel, Josh, Vincent, Mary, and Amaya take their seats at the table haphazardly composed of other tables, a makeshift banquet for warriors.
Hope plops down by the window, letting the sunlight warm her back, and River takes up a spot next to her, resting her head on Hope’s shoulder. Hayley and Elijah take seats side-by-side, Elijah already firmly pressed into a new, crisp suit. Josh and Kol swap stories as Mama Rae putters about, dropping plates of pastries and mugs of coffee and tea between the group.
“Got any bourbon to put in this?” Klaus asks with a wicked grin.
Freya appears at his shoulder, flask in hand. “Way ahead of you, brother.”
When everyone is settled, Hope gets up and raises her mug of coffee. “Hey everyone, I just wanted to take a minute to say…thank you. Thank you for putting your lives on the line to save this city, this city that birthed me, this city that means so much to each of us. I’m so glad that all of us came out the other side of this alive and…mostly unscathed.” She smiles at Vincent, who has a large gash down one arm, but is otherwise in one piece. “This family means everything to me, and having you by my side tonight…it was everything I’d ever hoped for.” She makes a face. “A little bloodier than I’d originally thought, but…”
The entire table laughs. Hope continues, “Tonight we proved that the dream of uniting New Orleans’s supernatural communities into one isn’t a fantasy. When we work together, when we trust each other, we can do great things. I trust each and every one of you with my life, with the lives of the people I care about most—” She squeezes River’s hand, and receives a squeeze in return. “—and I don’t say that lightly.” She smiles. “I love you guys.”
Klaus raises his mug, now generously spiked with his sister’s bourbon, and says, “To New Orleans, the city that we haven’t quite figured out how to kill.”
Everyone grins, and raises their own mugs. “To New Orleans,” they chorus.
“And to family,” Hope adds. “Whatever shapes it comes in.”
Hope and River walk arm-in-arm along the Mississippi in Woldenberg Park, watching the brown pelicans swoop down toward the water. “So how does it feel?” Hope asks. “Being an alpha.”
River kicks a rock with her boot. “Weird. Probably not as weird as being the queen of a city, though.”
“Strangely enough, you get used to it.” Hope tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I bet there are some former Crescent alphas turning in their graves that their pack is being led by a Malraux wolf.”
“Well, packs are relative.” She squeezes Hope’s arm. “You’re my pack, and you’re not even a wolf.”
Hope wrinkles her nose. “No. That I am not.”
River asks softly, “How close did it get?”
“She wasn’t breathing when we pulled her out. My dad’s blood saved her. Saved me.”
“Do you really think you’d lose your access to magic? If you triggered the curse?”
With a shrug, Hope answers, “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t really want to find out, though. And besides, it’s not like…”
River peers sideways at her. “It’s not like what?”
“It’s not like I wanted to kill her. You did what you did out of self-defense, and obviously I’m glad that prick didn’t get to hurt you, but…I don’t know how I’d be able to get up in the morning if another witch’s blood was on my hands.”
River nods. “That’s fair. Sometimes it’s easier…I don’t know. It’s easier to pretend that there wasn’t a price to pay for being a wolf.”
“I can imagine.”
They walk along, heads tipped close together as they brave the unseasonable fall chill. After a minute, Hope says brightly, “I’m excited.”
River gives her a strange look. “For what?”
“For the future! For whatever comes next. For you to kick ass in school, for this city to continue to grow and change and better itself. For time with my family, and with you, and with the Big Easy.”
With a snort, River quips, “Can’t believe a city that secretly has regular massacres is nicknamed the Big Easy.”
“Hush. I’m being optimistic.”
River twists her head and kisses her cheek. “I’ll be optimistic with you.”
And they walk down, the low afternoon sun heavy before them, the sparkling lights of New Orleans a glowing crown around their heads.
“Did your mom tell you what she and Mary proposed to me?” Hope shakes her head. “They think I should be the new Crescent alpha.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Hope gives half a shrug. “That’s honestly not a bad idea.”
“Oh my god.”
“Wait, what—”
Before Hope can make her point, there’s the sound of pounding footsteps from down below. The two girls move to the nearest landing in time to see someone come barreling into the courtyard from the street outside. Hope recognizes the tall, reedy woman from the nightwalkers’ hangout.
The vampire’s skin and clothes are stained with blood. Her eyes are wild as she searches for someone, finally landing on Hope up above. “They’re here!”
“Who’s here?” Freya’s on the floor below the girls, looking out over the rail at the panicked nightwalker.
“The hunters. They’re swarming the city. Almost everyone still in the bar…they didn’t make it.”
Hope and River exchange a loaded look. “So it begins,” Hope murmurs, before charging down the stairs.
A The Originals fic. Season two, episode thirteen, “Hell to the Rest of Us,” will be uploaded at 8p on Sunday, January 7.
A tall stack of folded laundry in her hands, Hope weaves her way carefully through the compound, dodging their houseguests as they mill about the halls. Two young kids chase each other around the second-floor balconies, and Hope nearly drops the clothes as she jumps out of their way.
“Whoa!” Half of the stack suddenly disappears, and Rebekah is smiling down at her. “Careful!” She takes her pile of clothes and starts to walk beside her niece. “Where are you taking these?”
“The wolves showed up in their pajamas, so these are all the spare clothes I could find.” She stops outside a bedroom door and knocks. When the door swings open, a young Crescent woman is on the other side, wrapped in a towel with wet hair. Hope digs out a shirt and pair of sweatpants from her pile. “Here you go, fresh out of the laundry!”
The woman takes the clothes gratefully. “Thank you so much. You and your family have been so kind to us.”
“Your home was invaded by people with guns,” Hope says wryly. “The least we could do was open up ours to you.”
She smiles, and closes the door to change.
Hope heads down to the next room. Still in step with her, Rebekah gives her a sideways glance and says, “You’re good at this.”
Hope wrinkles her nose. “It’s my job. And I care about these people. As long as there is a threat to them in my city, I’m going to keep them safe.”
“You couldn’t have kept them safe elsewhere?”
The two women turn to see Klaus, leaned into a corner of the hall, glass of scotch in hand. Hope frowns. “This compound is a fortress, Dad. We have, like, a stupid number of rooms, and a lot of people in need of a safe place to stay. Where else should they go?”
“Not here,” Klaus groans, “in my house.”
With a shrug, Hope lilts, “Well, your opinion was heard, and you were massively outvoted by the rest of this family, so here they stay. Besides, a lot of the wolves are finding places to stay with the Crescents who have already relocated into the city proper, so things are starting to settle.”
Before Klaus can argue further, there’s a commotion at the front gate. Hope peers over the rail as a small band of people pile into the compound.
“Not more refugees,” Rebekah says, dejected.
“No, look!” Hope calls down, “Vincent?”
From the front of the group, Vincent looks up at her. “Hey there, Hope.”
“What’re you doing here?” She surveys the witches around him. “Are they coming after you, too?”
Vincent smiles, and offers a half-shrug. “The way I see it, you come after one of us, you come after all of us. They came for the vampires, they came for the wolves, and now the witches are here to help.”
A bright, surprised smiles spreads across Hope’s face. From his spot in the corner, Klaus grumbles to himself, “Alright, but we’re not feeding them, too.”
Amaya and Freya lead Hayley, Elijah, and Hope into a small room, tucked away from all of the noise and commotion of the compound now housing the bulk of New Orleans’s supernatural population. Freya starts with a deep breath. “Amaya’s spent the past few hours writing down everything she can remember about the hunters and their camp.”
“Really I only interacted with Sebastian,” Amaya supplies. “He seems to be the leader. At least, everyone answered to him. He was…not kind to me about Joel.” Freya rubs a hand up and down her back. “He has a plan for ridding New Orleans of vampires, that much is for sure.”
“Do you know what this plan is?” Hayley asks.
“Well, we know it involves Marcel’s venom, right?” Hope offers. “Otherwise, why take him?”
Amaya nods. “I don’t know what this…this venom is supposed to do, but I know that he wants to use it on the Original family of vampires.”
“Lovely,” Elijah says, a dry smile on his face.
“Who are they?” Amaya asks, and Hope snorts.
“That would be us,” Elijah answers.
“Oh.”
“Amaya overheard Sebastian say that there are more hunters coming in from all corners of the continent,” Freya tells them. “We have no way of knowing what their total numbers will be.”
Making a face, Hayley says, “Maybe this is my hybrid arrogance, but aren’t we taking this threat a little too seriously? Sure, there may be a lot of them, but they’re humans. They can’t be that hard to defeat.”
“They killed the Crescent alpha right in front of my girlfriend,” Hope responds. “I’m not underestimating them. Besides, this house is currently packed to the rafters with people fleeing these hunters. Clearly they’re a pretty big threat.”
“Fair.”
“What was the organizational structure besides Sebastian?” Hope asks Amaya. “Were there other people who seemed to be in charge?”
Amaya hums in thought. “There was one guy, Jordan, who seemed to be, like, his right-hand sort of guy. But other than that, all things ran through Sebastian.”
Nodding, Hope’s gaze turns meditative. Elijah prompts, “What are you thinking about?”
“I think…” The barest hint of a smile appears on her face. “I think I have an idea.”
A couple dozen Crescents gather in the grand staircase, all of them looking curiously at River, who stands between the two flights of stairs. She beckons them all forward. “It’s okay guys. I just want to talk.”
The wolves look unsure. Leading the pack, Cody puffs out his chest and demands, “Why should we listen to anything you have to say? It’s your fault our alpha was killed.”
River takes a deep breath. “That may be true, but I’m just trying to offer some help. In the short time that I’ve been in New Orleans, I’ve seen that the Crescents are a real pack, a community of wolves devoted to each other. I don’t want to see that fall apart because of these assholes.”
“You think this is the first time we’ve lost an alpha?” someone pipes up. “We know how to adapt.”
“Fair enough,” River says. “But this time you don’t have to move on by yourselves. You have the entire supernatural community of New Orleans behind you.”
Cody’s eyes narrow. “We don’t need the witches, and we certainly don’t need the vampires,” he snaps. “We were doing just fine on our own until Rose decided to get all kumbaya with the enemy.”
“The vampires and the witches are not our enemies!” River insists.
“Our enemies?” Cody scoffs. “You aren’t one of us, either.”
River works her jaw, trying to disguise how much that stings. She takes another deep breath. “Look. I’m here to make sure that the Crescent pack has the support it needs to rebuild after a terrible loss. Whoever…whatever choice you make regarding your next alpha, that’s entirely up to y’all. But while we’re all…stuck here, we might as well get some actual work done. Not just posturing for posturing’s sake.” Her eyes flash dangerously at Cody, whose lip curls in reply.
From the back of the crowd, hidden behind the heads of a mass of Crescents, Mary leans against the frame of the entryway, watching her great-granddaughter’s girlfriend address the wolves, a contemplative expression on her face.
It’s hard to find a quiet spot in a compound filled with vampires, witches, and werewolves, but Amaya finds a tiny half-bath tucked into the corner to steal away in. She locks the door behind her, and turns on the sink faucet to create some white noise.
She pulls her phone out of her pocket, and scrolls quickly through her contacts to find a familiar number. She presses the phone to her ear and waits. “Sebastian? It’s Amaya.” She pauses to listen. “No, I know you’re probably really busy but…I’m in the house of the Original vampire family right now. You won’t believe what they have planned.”
Hayley’s walking down a hall on the third floor when all of a sudden she’s being tugged sideways into a room. “What the hell?”
She fights off her attacker only to see Mary, who shoves the door closed behind them. “We need to talk.”
“And you needed to kidnap me to make that happen?”
Ignoring her, Mary states, “The Crescents need a new alpha.”
“I know,” Hayley says, confused. “Why are you telling me about it?”
“Those wolves need someone who can lead them, someone with a good head on their shoulders.”
Hayley shrugs. “So why don’t you do it?”
Mary scoffs. “Nah, too old. Need someone younger, someone with a lot of good ideas.”
Eyes widening, Hayley starts to shake her head. “Not me, Mary, I couldn’t do that again—”
“No, not you, neither.” Mary smiles. “I got someone else in mind.”
There’s a knock at her apartment door, and Amaya opens it with a relieved sigh. “Thanks for coming out.”
Sebastian pushes his way inside, irritated. “I don’t have a lot of time, so this information better be good.” He faces Amaya with suspicion on his face. “How did you manage to get into the Original family’s home, anyway?”
Amaya shakes her head. “It’s sort of a long story. Not really important. What’s important is their plan to slaughter you and everyone else you’ve got out in the bayou.”
With a scoff, Sebastian replies, “I’m not that scared of a couple of ancient vampires. Our plan is pretty foolproof.”
“I’m sure that it is, but they’ve got information, too. They know about that vampire, the one you have locked up? And that you want to use his venom again them. They’re working on an antidote as we speak.”
Gritting his teeth, he hisses, “How in the hell do they know that?”
“Apparently they’ve got someone on the inside feeding them information.”
Sebastian’s brows furrow. “Who?”
A slow, smug smile spreads across Amaya’s face. “Me.”
Then there’s a loud thud, and Sebastian crumples to the floor, unconscious. Elijah stands over him with a faint smile of his own. He straightens the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Nothing like a little petty revenge to start the day off right.”
When River enters her bedroom, she’s surprised to find Hayley and Mary waiting for you. “Um. Hi.”
Hayley nods toward the bed. “Why don’t you take a seat? We need to talk.”
River closes the door and nervously steps over to the bed. “That sounds nice and ominous.” She sits down. “What’s up?”
Mary begins. “Heard you talkin’ to the Crescents earlier. Did a good job of makin’ ‘em feel heard.”
River shrugs. “It’s my fault they’re without an alpha. The least I could do is help them get back on their feet.”
“Okay, well, first of all?” Hayley perches on the edge of the bed. “It’s not your fault that Rose was killed. It’s the fault of the people who shot her. And second of all…” She takes a deep breath. “The Crescents do need a new alpha. They need someone smart, and strong, and dedicated to building the community in New Orleans that Rose felt so strongly about.”
River nods. “Right.”
“We think that person should be you,” Mary says bluntly.
River’s eyes flick blankly between the two women, her face unreadable. Hayley tilts her head, concerned. “River?”
Shaking her head to clear it, River says, “Sorry! I was hallucinating. What were we talking about?”
“River—”
“No way I can be the alpha of that pack. Of any pack! I can’t even handle being the alpha of the Malraux pack, and that’s a pack of one!”
“You know just as well as I do that that Cody fellow’s aimin’ to get himself as the new alpha,” Mary asserts. “You ‘n’ I both know too that he’d be no good at it. Too hot-headed, too superior. He’d start a new war with the vampires that we ain’t in no position to win.”
“What about you?” River suggests desperately. “They respect you, you’re one of their elders!”
Mary waves her off. “Exactly. I’m an elder. Can’t be an elder and an alpha. Besides, I’m too old for that mess.”
“And don’t you think I’m too young for it?”
“What about Hope?” Hayley says.
River furrows her brow in confusion. “What about her?”
“Well she signed up to be queen of a city on her eighteenth birthday.”
River’s face blooms into something akin to surprise. “Well for starters, Hope makes decisions for Hope, and I make decisions for myself. And then there’s the fact that Hope was asked to lead New Orleans because she is the only person who can represent all three communities. I can’t represent the Crescents because I’m not a Crescent! And honestly, I don’t really appreciate you using my girlfriend to guilt me into taking on a responsibility that I don’t want. I mean, Jesus, I’m trying to make it out of my first semester of undergrad alive. I don’t know if I’m really interested in putting myself in a position to lead a bunch of wolves when I’m trying to, you know, not flunk out of school.”
Mary and Hayley listen to her outburst in stunned silence. Once she’s finished, they exchange a significant look. Then Hayley says carefully, “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re not Hope, and I shouldn’t try to use her against you. But the fact of the matter is, you’d be good at this. You’re a natural-born leader, and Rose trusted you. She didn’t trust many people, but she trusted you.”
“And look where that got her.” River pushes herself off of the bed and starts to pace a little circle. “Look, I’m not saying no, okay? I’m just saying I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Think on it,” Mary says quickly. “They don’t need an answer today.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” River shakes her head. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna go.” And then she tugs open the door and leaves.
Mary and Hayley exchange another look. “That could have gone worse,” Hayley sighs.
Mary harrumphs. “Barely.”
When Sebastian comes to, his head is throbbing. His hand reaches back, and he feels a massive bump right at the base of his neck. Groggy, he sits up; he’s on a bed, in a dark room. He gropes around, hand colliding painfully with a bedside lamp. He flicks it on, and once his eyes adjust to the sudden wash of light, he sees he’s in a dingy motel room, with water stains on the ceilings and peeling wallpaper.
“The hell…” He sits up, dizzy, and flinches when he hears a loud rapping at the door. He manages to push himself off of the bed and stumble to the door, where the rapping continues. He wrenches the door open angrily. “What the hell?”
He’s surprised to see two people on the other side, a tall man with massive grin on his face, and a young woman with flaming red hair.
“Hello!” the young woman says cheerfully. “My name is Hope Mikaelson, and this is my father, Klaus. I hear you’re trying to kill my family.”
Jordan walks through the hunters’ campsite, staring at his phone with a frown. He approaches Sebastian’s camper and knocks, but no one comes to the door. He looks around and spies Lorena walking across the central area. “Lorena!”
She turns as he jogs up to her. “What’s up?”
“Have you heard from Sebastian? He went into the city hours ago and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Lorena shakes her head. “No, sorry. I haven’t heard from him, either, not for a while.”
Just then, Jordan’s phone beeps with a text. He looks at the screen. “Oh, it’s him. He sent me a picture. That’s weird.” Jordan unlocks the phone to see a picture of Sebastian, unconscious on a bed. “What the hell?”
Lorena moves to peer over his shoulder. “Is he okay?”
Before Jordan can answer, a new text comes in. Remove yourselves from New Orleans within twelve hours, or your leader will be returned to you in pieces.
The compound is large, but with the setting sun, even more vampires pour into the Mikaelsons’ home for protection. The tension in the air grows impossibly thicker as vampire and werewolves trip over each other in the halls, with each moment passing engendering more annoyance than before.
Josh tries to keep the peace the best he can. When a nightwalker jumps threateningly toward a young Crescent man, Josh quickly steps in to deescalate the situation. “Hey!” he snaps, shoving the nightwalker away. “We’re all in this together. We have to keep our heads.”
The nightwalker huffs, but then nods. Then he’s being thrown against a wall himself, his face colliding with the brick. He bounces off easily, and whips around to see Cody stalking toward him angrily. “What the hell?”
Cody swings again, and Josh ducks easily, pinning his arm against his back and pushing him against the balcony rail. “What’re you doing, man?”
“I don’t have to answer to you, pansy,” he snarls. “None of us do.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Looks like all that time out in the sticks didn’t make you any more creative with your insults.”
Cody bucks against Josh’s hold and spins around, fangs bared. Josh’s eyes go wide, but then they’re both distracted by a shout. “HEY!”
They turn to see River stalking toward them, eyes flashing. She shoves Cody backward. “You wanna pick a fight? Huh?” She shoves him again. “You wanna pick a fight? Prove you’re the biggest douche in New Orleans?”
Cody shoves her back. “Stay out of this. This is between the Crescents and the vampires.”
“The hell it is!” River grabs his arm and twists around so that Cody’s body bounces off of the brick. He slaps against the ground like a sack of flour, and is slow to move. “You’re a coward,” she spits down at him. “You’re scared of what’s out there, so you’re taking it out on the people in here. You’re pissed about Rose? Well guess what—me too. But if you think that this is what she’d want, you starting shit you don’t need to be starting because you’re bored, because you’re scared? She’d be ashamed of you. Hell, you’re not even in my pack and I’m ashamed of you.
She crouches down to get right in his face. “Do you think we don’t see right through you? If you want to assert yourself as alpha, then you’re going to have to be a hell of a lot smarter than this. Because right now, the only thing you’re showing your pack, your scared, hurt, grieving pack, is that the loudest, boldest one among them is an absolute moron. So pull your shit together, before you tear this pack apart.”
She shoves on his shoulder to get herself back on her feet, and when she turns around, there are dozens of eyes on her. From all around the compound, vampires, witches, and werewolves alike stare at her with a myriad of emotions: surprise, anger, confusion, intrigue. And from down below, by the fountain in the courtyard, Hayley and Mary smile up at her, a twinkle of knowing in their eyes.
Jordan climbs up to the top of Sebastian’s camper and lets out an ear-splitting whistle. Slowly, the hunters at the camp gather around, staring up at him. He calls out, “Listen up! The enemy has taken Sebastian.” Murmurs and shouts ripple through the crowd. “We don’t know where he is, but we are going to tear New Orleans brick from brick until we find him.” Jeers ring out. “They made a mistake, picking a fight with the most formidable group of vampire hunters this world has ever seen! Let’s make ‘em pay for it.”
Once the crowd calms down, Jordan gives them their instructions. “Go out to our other encampments throughout the bayou. Ask Lorena for a map. By now, the hundreds of hunters that make up our ranks should have arrived to help us in our fight. Go let them know that we need them now more than ever. We have a war to win.”
A tall stack of folded laundry in her hands, Hope weaves her way carefully through the compound, dodging their houseguests as they mill about the halls. Two young kids chase each other around the second-floor balconies, and Hope nearly drops the clothes as she jumps out of their way.
“Whoa!” Half of the stack suddenly disappears, and Rebekah is smiling down at her. “Careful!” She takes her pile of clothes and starts to walk beside her niece. “Where are you taking these?”
“The wolves showed up in their pajamas, so these are all the spare clothes I could find.” She stops outside a bedroom door and knocks. When the door swings open, a young Crescent woman is on the other side, wrapped in a towel with wet hair. Hope digs out a shirt and pair of sweatpants from her pile. “Here you go, fresh out of the laundry!”
The woman takes the clothes gratefully. “Thank you so much. You and your family have been so kind to us.”
“Your home was invaded by people with guns,” Hope says wryly. “The least we could do was open up ours to you.”
She smiles, and closes the door to change.
Hope heads down to the next room. Still in step with her, Rebekah gives her a sideways glance and says, “You’re good at this.”
Hope wrinkles her nose. “It’s my job. And I care about these people. As long as there is a threat to them in my city, I’m going to keep them safe.”
A The Originals fic. Season two, episode twelve, “Together on an Empty Stage,” will be uploaded at 8p on Sunday, December 31.
So I would like to know your thoughts as to what might happen with Hayley and Elijah at the end of season 5, I want a happy ending for them so bad both alive and happy together.
EDIT: To the anon who just sent me a message about the spoilers, a) I’m not responding publicly to the ask in case there are those trying to stay spoiler-free, and b) fucking hell, that’s even bleaker than I thought it was going to be.
There is going to be some discussion of spoilers under the cut, so if you want to remind unspoiled for season five of The Originals, please scroll past!
Based on the spoilers I’ve seen from the writers’ room and the set (which, admittedly, I’m behind the curve when it comes to staying up-to-date on spoilers), I think that Hayley’s going to be dating someone new when the season starts, but when Elijah gets his memories back, the two of them are going to find their way back to each other just in time for Hayley to die. I am 100% convinced that Hayley is going to die, and I’m really pissed off about it, because JPlec continues to tout herself as a feminist while doing some really shitty stuff to women.
So yeah, I’m sorry friend, but based on what I know of JPlec and how TVD ended, I think you’re setting yourself up for disappointment by hoping for a happy Haylijah ending. But don’t worry; despite myself, I’m still hoping for it, too.
Clothed once more, River sits with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders in the library. She’s tucked in on herself, staring at the floor. Hope sits beside her, running a hand up and down her shaking back. She tips her forehead against River’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
River sniffs. “We have to go get her. We can’t leave her body out there.”
Hope nods. “You’re right.” She looks up at her family, who’s gathered around, having just heard River recount her traumatic experience in the bayou. “I’ll head out—”
Everyone starts talking at once, the loudest being Klaus, who shouts, “Over my desiccated corpse.”
“Did you not hear a word your girlfriend just said?” Hayley asks. “The bayou is crawling with hunters. You’re not going out there. None of us are.”
“We can’t leave her,” Hope insists. “And someone has to tell the Crescents that their alpha…” She trails off, and takes a deep breath.
“Why did they kill her?” Rebekah looks confused. “She was a werewolf, and these are vampire hunters.”
“I imagine Rose wasn’t the target.” Everyone turns to look at Freya. She sighs. “First Marcel goes missing, and then these hunters start shooting at River.” She waits for the others to catch up.
Elijah gets there first. “They took him for his venom.”
Impossibly, River looks more horrified than before. “Rose died…because of me?”
Hope wraps her arms around her girlfriend. “No. Rose died because they are monsters. This isn’t your fault.”
“The point still stands.” Klaus starts to gesticulate wildly. “These hunters have access to the only means of killing us left. They must be stopped.”
“Yes, thank you, Niklaus, for once again summarizing the obvious,” Elijah drawls.
“How did they find her?”
Freya’s brows furrow at Hope’s question. “What do you mean?”
“River and Rose were in the middle of the bayou. River doesn’t even live out there. How did they manage to track her down?”
“That’s a good question.” Freya cogitates on that for a minute. “Oh…that’s smart.”
“What is it, sister?” Kol asks.
“A simple locator spell would suffice if they had some biological material to use,” she explains. “And if they have Marcel’s venom, they also have Malraux venom.”
The entire family lets that sink in. “So they can still track her,” Hope finally says.
Freya nods. “As long as they still have Marcel’s venom.”
“Well then our next move is clear,” Klaus announces. “River needs to go.”
Rebekah’s jaw drops. “Nik—”
Hope leaps to her feet. “What the hell, Dad?”
The others start to express their outrage as well, and Klaus jerks a hand toward the werewolf girl. “If they track her here, we are all in danger!”
“Klaus, no.” Hayley stands up and glowers at him. “River is just as much a part of this family as any of us. We will protect her, not abandon her.”
“She’s a risk,” Klaus insists.
“She’s family,” Hayley snarls back.
Klaus looks from person to person, not finding a single sympathizer in the room. Finally he straightens himself and says, “I know when my opinion is no longer valued,” and heads for the hall.
Under his breath, Kol mutters, “History tells us that’s not true,” but everyone ignores him.
Hayley kneels down in front of River and looks her right in the eye. “Listen to me. We will keep you safe.” She pauses. “And you’re right. We can’t leave Rose out there, and we can’t leave the Crescents in the dark. We’ll go out. Together.” She looks over at her daughter, who sits, rests her head against River’s shoulder once more, and mouths, Thank you.
Sebastian’s waiting in the camper, carving some wooden bullets, when they return. Jordan’s the one who enters, head bowed. “How’d it go?” Sebastian asks, not even looking up from his work.
Jordan hesitates. “We got one. Just…not the right one.”
Sebastian’s eyes flick up in anger. “How hard can it be to kill one measly werewolf?”
“Pretty damn hard when she actually turns into a wolf.”
That throws Sebastian for a loop. “She turned?” Jordan nods. “But it’s not a full moon. And it’s the middle of the day.”
“You’re telling us.”
Sebastian sets his work aside with a sigh. “So who did you kill?”
“Richard’s the one who got her. Said he heard the one we were aiming for her call her Rose.”
From the back of the camper, Marcel makes a strangled noise. Sebastian looks over at him, annoyed. “What’s your problem?”
Through the mask, Marcel manages to articulate, “You killed their alpha.”
Sebastian and Jordan exchange a significant look. “That pack we’ve been watching. She was their alpha?” he asks of Marcel, and Marcel merely glares in return.
“That could be a problem,” Jordan says. “I can’t imagine they’d take too kindly to us killing their leader.”
Sebastian picks up his whittling knife and turns it over in his hand a few times. After a minute of contemplation, he shrugs and suggests, “Then we kill them.”
That catches Jordan by surprise. “All of them?”
“Our scouts said there weren’t that many, right? We’ve got to outnumber them, what, ten to one? At least? Why not wipe them out before they can become a problem for us?”
Jordan opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes dart over to Marcel, who’s staring back in horror and rage. Then he says, “Yeah. Good idea. I’ll go get supplies together.” And he leaves the camper before Sebastian can say anything else.
When River, Hope, Hayley, and Elijah arrive in the little wolf bayou village, Mary’s waiting for them by the lakeside. Hope immediately gives her great-grandmother a hug, and Mary squeezes her back. “Have you told them?” Hope whispers.
Mary shakes her head. “I thought it should come from their leader.”
And that’s what she is now. Without an alpha, Hope is the de facto leader of the Crescent pack, and she has no idea what she’s going to say to them. Once Mary lets go of her, she wraps River up in her arms, too. “Now you listen to me. Ain’t none of this your fault.” River hugs her, but doesn’t respond.
Crescents start climbing out of the woods, circling around the newcomers. There aren’t a ton of them; a lot of the families moved into the city, and their numbers weren’t large to begin with. They look confused. “What’s going on?” one calls.
Hope turns to the group. “We need to talk.”
“Where’s Rose?”
Hope takes a deep breath. “Rose is dead.” There are gasps from the wolves. “She was murdered by a group of hunters.”
“Hunters?” someone asks. “Like the vampire hunter?”
“She told us the hunter in the city was dead!”
“The hunter terrorizing New Orleans was not alone,” Hayley explains. “There are more of them now, many more. And they killed Rose.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Hope says, heart breaking. “For all of our losses.”
“This is your fault!” One of the wolves, a tall, muscular guy with a stony grimace steps forward. “We were fine out here until you came sniffing around.” He jabs a finger angrily toward Hope. “Our alpha is dead, and it’s your fault.”
Before Hope can argue, River snaps, “It’s not her fault, Cody, it’s mine.”
Hope starts to protest, “River—” but River talks over her. “Rose died saving my life because that’s the kind of person she was. She was fearless and she was strong and she was the leader this pack deserved. And you can get angry and you can get sad and you can do all the things you need to do to grieve her. But the fact of the matter is that your alpha was murdered, and the people responsible are going to kill others if we don’t band together and stop them.”
Silence rings in the little clearing, and the Crescents look at each other in disbelief. From behind, a small smirk appears on Mary’s face. “’Atta girl,” she murmurs to herself.
Freya’s got a table set up in the grand staircase, various grimoires holding down the corners of a map of Louisiana. In one hand she has a mortar, and in the other, the pestle she’s using to grind together a concoction of herbs. She hears a small cough from the open doors before her, but she doesn’t look up from her work. “I’m working as quickly as I can, Klaus, I don’t need your pressure.”
“Um.”
Freya freezes, and then slowly looks up. Standing in the entrance is Amaya, hands clasped in front of her awkwardly. Freya blinks owlishly. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Amaya smiles. “I—I was hoping—” She sighs. “Can we talk?”
Nodding quickly, Freya says, “Sure.”
Josh steps tentatively into St. Anne’s, cell phone in hand. “Hello?”
“Hey Josh.” Vincent’s waiting up at the altar.
As Josh approaches, he asks, “Do you know what we’re doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” They both turn to see Hope coming through the doors of the church. “We have a problem. We have, like, a lot of problems.”
“What’s going on?” Vincent asks, wary.
Stopping in front of the two men, Hope shrugs and says, “Let’s see. Rose is dead, the Crescents are a mess, Marcel has been kidnapped, there are an untold number of vampire hunters descending upon New Orleans like a plague, and they seem hellbent on killing my girlfriend.”
Silence.
“Wait, what?” Josh blurts out.
“What do you mean Rose is dead?” Vincent asks.
“And where’s Marcel?”
“The vampire hunter my mom killed? He’s got friends. Lots of them. And they took Marcel to use his venom as a weapon against my family and any other vampire that gets in their way. They came after River because if she’s dead, we’ll never be able to cure anyone infected.”
Jaw dropped, Vincent says, “And Rose?”
Hope’s shoulders droop. “She died protecting River.”
The three stand in silence for a while. Finally, Josh says, “Okay. What do you need us to do?”
Freya and Amaya sit in the library, on opposite couches. Amaya keeps tucking the same piece of hair behind her ear nervously. “I wasn’t sure I was going to come here.”
“I’m glad you did,” Freya says. “I…I’ve missed you.”
“This isn’t about…us.”
Freya’s face falls. “Oh.”
“It’s about the hunters.”
That surprises her. “You know about the hunters?”
Amaya nods. “I know a lot of things now. Things you really should know.”
“Why would you want to tell me anything? After…after your brother…”
“I have spent the last two days mourning my brother in more ways than one,” Amaya says, voice thick. “Not only was he taken from me, I had to come to terms with the fact that my brother, the kind, loving, gentle man who raised me after our parents died, was also in league with some truly…some truly awful people.”
Freya gets up and moves to sit beside Freya. “What did you learn of these hunters?”
Amaya whispers, “I know they tried to kill your niece’s girlfriend. She’s just a kid. She doesn’t deserve to die.”
With a sigh, Freya says, “No. No she doesn’t.”
“And they have a man locked up. There was this strange mask on his face.”
“Marcel. We know. We’re working on that, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Amaya says, grabbing Freya’s hand. “I’m sorry for not understanding.”
“You lost your brother,” Freya insists. “Trust me, I understand that pain. It’s not easy, having your world turned upside down so suddenly.” She pauses. “For the record, I am also sorry for the role I played in your brother’s death. There are things I could have handled better, things I could have done differently.”
“I want to help you,” Amaya declares. “I don’t want to be a part of…whatever they’re doing out there in the bayou. I don’t want to be responsible for that.”
Freya smiles. “Okay.”
“Everyone gather ‘round!” Sebastian saunters to the middle of the hunters’ camp, motioning for everyone to circle up around him. It takes a while for all of them to mosey over, but eventually, a ring of dozens of vampire hunters forms, all watching Sebastian.
“I know we’re still waiting on everyone to arrive,” he calls, pacing a bit between the group. “But I don’t want to wait. We’ve got a wolf problem that we’re going to nip in the bud before it gets out of control. So everyone on the eastern edge of the lot…tonight, you’re going hunting.”
Loud whoops and cheers ring out, and Sebastian grins and lifts his hands to silence them. “The rest of you…I got a plan for you too. We’re here to cleanse the city of New Orleans from their secret disease. Vampires a pandemic in this town, and while I want to stick to our original plan, to wait for the rest of our brother and sisters to join us in our efforts…there’s no reason we can’t have a little fun in the meantime.” His grin turns malevolent, and the cheers continue. “So, the half of you that aren’t hunting for wolves…let’s head into the city, and wreak a little havoc among the bloodsuckers.”
The jeers are deafening, and, smirking proudly, Sebastian surveys the crowd with a glint of spite in his eye.
The rest of the family has joined Freya and Amaya in the library. The two women stand in front of the bookcases, with the others watching them in a mixture of apprehension, mistrust, and, in Klaus’s case, outright accusation. Elijah, standing behind one of the couches, cocks his head to the side and says, “Let me get this straight. You wish to volunteer yourself…as a spy?”
Amaya nods. “Sebastian, the…I don’t know, the leader, I guess? He trusts me. He thinks I’m willing to help them out.”
“And are you not?” Klaus asks, voice tense.
Freya glares at her brother, but Amaya answers, “I was. I was angry. I’m still angry. I’m angry at these hunters for dragging my teenage brother into a life he never should have been a part of. I’m angry at…whoever killed him.” The room goes very still, and no one looks at Hayley. “And I’m angry at him. As much as it hurts to say it, I’m pissed off at my dead brother for doing the things that he did, for putting himself in the situation where was killed.”
Quietly, Freya laces her fingers with Amaya’s, their hands interwoven down between their bodies. Amaya continues, “But in the past few days, I’ve had to suddenly come to grips with the fact that I am living in a very different world than I thought. And I may not know much about…about vampires or—or werewolves or witches, but…but I know that the people out in the bayou are not good people. They are not people I trust. I mean…they went out into the woods to kill a teenage girl. Who does that?”
“That was me.”
Everyone turns to see River, half-hidden in the doorway to the hall. She’s dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Hope immediately abandons her spot on the couch and rushes over to her. “I thought you were getting some rest.”
River shrugs off her girlfriend’s worried hands and steps into the room, eyes haunted. To Amaya, she says, “They went out into the woods to kill me, and instead they killed someone else. A friend of mine. Someone with people who depend on her to survive. Her name was Rose. She was twenty-five.”
The silence rings in the library, until Freya murmurs, “That’s why she’s here. She wants to help.”
“I don’t trust her,” Klaus asserts, jabbing his finger at Amaya. “Her brother nearly killed ours.”
With a roll of her eyes, Rebekah snaps, “If people were required to answer for their siblings’ sins, we all would have to devote the rest of our eternities atoning for yours, Nik.”
“How do we know this isn’t some ploy?” Klaus insists. “For all we know, she’s a spy for the hunters. We know they have Marcel’s venom, so they already have the upper hand.”
Surprised by his vitriol, Amaya says, “I’m trying to help.”
Klaus opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut across by Elijah’s warning tone. “Niklaus.” Klaus’s mouth slowly closes. Elijah walks over to Amaya and smiles. “I believe you. And I believe that we could greatly use your help. There are a lot of lives on the line with these hunters in our midst, and if you are willing to do this for us, we would forever be in your debt.”
Amaya tentatively smiles in return, and Freya mouths Thank you to her brother.
Under the cover of darkness, Josh and Vincent hide in the bayou, each tucked behind a thick oak, well out of view of the collection of vehicles that creates the hunters’ camp. Josh tips his head slightly to the side, and focuses all of his energies on listening.
“It’s empty,” he whispers, confused. “There’s hardly anyone there.”
“Then luck’s on our side,” Vincent whispers back. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do this.”
Josh listens some more, and then points around the trunk of the tree. “He’s in that one, just over there.”
“Alright, let’s go.” Vincent darts quietly between the trees, Josh on his heels, until they’re both crouched behind Sebastian’s camper.
Josh stretches up to peer through the back window. He spies Marcel, unconscious and tied up inside. He crouches back down and hisses, “He’s in there, and he does not look good.”
“Look!” Vincent points, and Josh sees a small side door the camper. He pries it open and dashes inside. After a moment, he pokes his head back out. “The chains around his ankles are spelled! I can’t break them!”
With a roll of his eyes, Vincent climbs into the camper. He kneels down beside Marcel. “Damn, man. You got yourself in it this time.” He grabs the chain around Marcel’s ankles with both hands and closes his eyes. A few seconds later, they spring free from the camper’s wheel well, and Josh tugs them easily off of Marcel’s legs.
Pointing at the mask, Josh asks, “What’s that on his face?”
“Must be how they’re getting his venom.” It doesn’t take long for Vincent to magically remove the mask as well. “Alright, get him and let’s go.”
Josh bends down to scoop his unconscious friend up, and the trio exits the camper as stealthily as they can. They’re a few steps into the trees when Josh cries out, dropping Marcel to clutch at his head.
Vincent whips around to see a young woman in the shadows, her hand outstretched toward Josh. She cocks her head to the side. “Where do you think you’re going with him?”
Instead of answering, Vincent shakes his hand in the woman’s direction, and she’s blown off of her feet. Spell broken, Josh stops yelling in pain, and Vincent shouts, “Take him and go!”
Lorena quickly scrambles to her feet. “Oh no you don’t.” With a flick of her eyes, there’s a deafening crack, and a massive tree starts tipping toward the two vampires. Josh barely manages to grab the back of Marcel’s shirt and drag him out of the way before the tree crashes to the earth with an ear-splitting boom. The force of it jars both witches, and Lorena takes the opportunity to twist her hand, dropping Vincent to his knees.
“Why are you helping him?” she shouts. “They’re killers!”
Struggling to stand against the force of her spell, Vincent retorts, “You’re not exactly working with the saints yourself.” He snaps his fingers, and she goes flying again, crashing backwards into a different tree. She hits the ground with a sickening thud, and Vincent’s tugged to his feet by Josh.
“C’mon,” Josh mutters, and, holding onto both of his friends, he becomes a blur, disappearing into the bayou before Lorena can pull herself to her feet once more.
River stands on their balcony, staring up at the starry sky above. Hope pads out quietly, two mugs of hot cocoa in her hand. She passes one to her girlfriend, who takes it but doesn’t drink. “How do you feel?” Hope murmurs, leaning up against the rail.
River doesn’t look down from the stars. “She saved my life.”
Hope tips her head onto River’s shoulder. “I know. I hate that I’m never going to be able to thank her for that.”
“The Crescents have it bad enough out there, and then this…” River turns to look at Hope, who removes her head from her shoulder. “What’s going to happen to them?”
Heart breaking, Hope says, “I don’t know. But we’ll help them. I promise you that. We’re not going to leave them alone out there. I wouldn’t do that to Rose.”
River nods, and then there’s a loud noise from downstairs. The two look at each other in confusion, and then head back inside. They leave their bedroom and head out to the inside balcony. When they look down at the courtyard below, they’re surprised to see a small band of people, dressed in torn and dirtied pajamas, pouring in through the entrance.
“What’s going on?” Klaus is a few feet over, glaring down at the intruders. “Who are you people?”
Recognition dawns on River’s face. “They’re Crescents.”
One of the people looks up and spots River. “Help us!” she begs, clutching a small child to her side.
“What happened?” Hope asks, rushing for the stairs to go down.
“They attacked us! In our sleep!”
The other Mikaelsons start peering in from their various rooms. Hayley strides out of the kitchen, concern coloring her face. “This was the hunters?”
The woman nods. “There were so many of them. We barely got away.”
Cody, the wolf who blamed Hope for Rose’s death earlier that same day, appears at the back of the group, ushering the last of the stragglers inside. He sees her, and his face is grave. “They came for us in the night.” His voice is hollow. “Like cowards. At least three of us are dead. A bunch are probably lost in the woods still.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “We need help.”
Before any of the Mikaelsons can answer, there’s more commotion at the front gates. A new group of people crowd into the courtyard, pushing the Crescent pack further into the compound. Hope recognizes several of the faces. “What’s going on?”
Panicking, the nightwalkers tuck themselves into corners and shadows, fully out of view of the street. “It’s the hunters,” one of them says, approaching Hope. “The city is crawling with them. They came into our bar, into St. James’.” His face falls. “My best friend was staked right in front of me.
Eyes wide, Hope surveys the sudden horde of refugees in her family home. Vampires and werewolves alike, this is a group of terrified people fleeing for their lives. She looks to her mother, who nods in both understanding and reassurance. Then Hope hops up onto a chair and calls out, “Listen up!” The nervous chatter quiets. “We don’t know what these hunters want, or how far they’re willing to go to get it. But they came into our city, threatened our loved ones. And they won’t get away with it.
“But for tonight, you all are welcome here.” There is a ripple of murmurs through the crowd. “I don’t care who you are, what community you belong to. This is New Orleans, and you are all my family. You’re safe here. So get on the phone, try to get into contact with the people you know. Tell them that as long as I’m alive, you will find refuge here.”
Her voice goes cold and still. “And tomorrow? Tomorrow we make them pay.”
Clothed once more, River sits with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders in the library. She’s tucked in on herself, staring at the floor. Hope sits beside her, running a hand up and down her shaking back. She tips her forehead against River’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
River sniffs. “We have to go get her. We can’t leave her body out there.”
Hope nods. “You’re right.” She looks up at her family, who’s gathered around, having just heard River recount her traumatic experience in the bayou. “I’ll head out—”
Everyone starts talking at once, the loudest being Klaus, who shouts, “Over my desiccated corpse.”
“Did you not hear a word your girlfriend just said?” Hayley asks. “The bayou is crawling with hunters. You’re not going out there. None of us are.”
“We can’t leave her,” Hope insists. “And someone has to tell the Crescents that their alpha…” She trails off, and takes a deep breath.
“Why did they kill her?” Rebekah looks confused. “She was a werewolf, and these are vampire hunters.”
“I imagine Rose wasn’t the target.” Everyone turns to look at Freya. She sighs. “First Marcel goes missing, and then these hunters start shooting at River.” She waits for the others to catch up.
Elijah gets there first. “They took him for his venom.”
Impossibly, River looks more horrified than before. “Rose died…because of me?”
A The Originals fic. Season two, episode eleven, “So Many Different Breeds Here,” will be uploaded at 8p on Sunday, December 24.
Back in the attic, Hope is this time surrounded by both an uncle and an aunt. Kol lounges lazily against the wall, munching on an apple, as Freya wafts a burning bundle of sage around the space. From her place cross-legged on the floor, Hope watches skeptically. “Do you really think sage is going to keep the ancestors from talking to me?”
“I’m cleansing the air,” Freya explains. “I want you to start with a fresh headspace when we begin our work. This won’t drive them away, but it will keep things quiet as we go.”
Hope’s eyes flick over to Kol, who merely shrugs and takes another chunk out of his apple. Freya finishes her cleansing and sets the sage down, picking up a mortar filled with a dull mound of crushed herbs. Hope eyes it suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“Devil’s claw and lemon balm. It’s a classic witch’s recipe. Together they’ll dispel unwanted psychic energy.” Freya presses her thumb into the herbs, and then places a simple dot in the center of Hope’s forehead. “There. Now we should be ready to begin.”
“Finally,” Kol says. “We’ve been here half an hour already.”
“At least I came with a plan more sophisticated than focusing on a candle,” Freya snarks back. She smiles down at Hope. “Now, close your eyes.” Hope acquiesces. “Let down the barrier you’ve created between yourself and the ancestors. Let the voices come as they come. Let them wash over you.”
Hope takes a few deep breaths, and then slowly, the low hum of voices in the back of her mind grows louder, as if someone is turning the dial on a stereo. Soon, they’re so loud that she can barely hear Freya say, “Breathe in, and then exhale, and create a space of silence around yourself.”
Unsure, Hope breathes in deeply, and when she lets out a long, slow breath, she opens her eyes—only to find her aunt and uncle mysteriously gone. “Aunt Freya? Uncle Kol?” Hope looks around, and she can feel that something isn’t right. The colors of the attic are wrong, washed out and hazy. “Oh no.”
“Hello, Hope.”
She turns and sees her, resplendent in white. “Hi, Esther.”
Her grandmother smiles warmly. “I have a message for you.”
“At least I didn’t have to almost die this time to hear it,” Hope says with a sigh. “What’s up?”
“What is up is that your danger has not passed.”
Hope quirks an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need some more specifics.”
“We warned you before that the threat to New Orleans would come from outside the city. This is still true.”
“I don’t understand.” Hope pushes herself up off the floor. “My mom killed the hunter. No one’s killing vampires anymore. Everything should be better.”
Esther’s smile turns sad. “The hunter your mother killed was not working alone. There are more. Many, many more.”
Hope runs a hand through her hair. “Okay. Okay. So more hunters are coming.”
“They’re not coming. They’re already here.”
Hope’s jaw drops. “Thanks for the advance notice!”
Unfazed, Esther points out, “It would be a lot easier to tell you things if you didn’t devote so much of your energies to blocking us out.”
With a disbelieving laugh, Hope argues, “Did you all miss what Kol told us about that Advocate in the Ivory Coast? She’s a vegetable. If you want an Advocate who can actually, you know, advocate for you, you have to leave me alone until it’s important.”
“It’s all important to these people, Hope! New Orleans witches have long been able to commune directly with their ancestors, and now that all communication must run through you, you must hear all of it.”
“I’m going crazy, Esther,” Hope says, voice begging. “I need to do this or I won’t be able to help anyone.”
Esther nods. “Perhaps we can try harder to…censor ourselves. But this, what I’ve told you today? This is the most important thing.”
“Yeah, I’d say a horde of vampire hunters descending on New Orleans is pretty damn important. Alright, I’ll go sound the alarm.”
“Thank you.” Esther walks over to Hope and, with a smile, says, “Take care, Hope,” and presses her hand to Hope’s forehead.
Hope blinks, finds herself once more in the attic, with her aunt and uncle hovering over her. “Um, hi.”
“Are you alright?” Freya demands, hands moving over her niece’s face in worry.
“Where did you go?” Kol asks.
“Where did I…how long was I out?”
“A few minutes,” Freya answers. “But you were unresponsive.”
“I was talking to Esther.”
Freya’s face grows cold, and Kol rolls his eyes. “What did that old bat have to say?”
Hope looks between the two. “Our hunter troubles aren’t over yet.”
Sebastian leans out of the camper hitched to his trunk. “Lorena!” The young witch turns from Jordan and walks up to the camper. “I need more information about this werewolf girl. I had some guys keep an eye on this pack throughout the night, but no one looked like the description you gave.”
Lorena nods. “I’ll need contact with the vampire.”
Sebastian steps out of the way, and Lorena enters the camper. She strides over to Marcel, who’s still chained the floor, the venom mask once again magically affixed to his face. His eyes narrow dangerously as she approaches. She kneels down. “Good morning.”
“Go to hell,” he mumbles painfully.
With a smile, Lorena places a hand on either side of Marcel’s head. She closes her eyes and concentrates. She gets flashes, but there seems to be little in Marcel’s head about the curly-haired werewolf girl. There is another girl, with bright red hair, who appears beside the wolf a number of times, but she’s not the one they’re after. She focuses harder, trying to listen as well as see.
“Her name,” Lorena says, eyes still closed. “Her name is…River.”
Sebastian tries not to look annoyed. “I need more than a name, Lor.”
Lorena’s eyes open in irritation. “I get what I get, Bash. I don’t get to ask questions.” Then an idea strikes her. “But I might have a better plan.”
Interest piqued, Sebastian asks, “What’s that?”
Lorena smiles down at Marcel. “I’m going to need some of his venom.”
The family is gathered in the library, everyone facing Hope as she explains the situation. “All I know is what Esther told me. There are more vampire hunters in town.”
“Why would these dead witches want to warn us about vampire hunters?” Klaus asks, suspicious. “Would it be beneficial to their progeny to let these hunters do what they do best?”
Hope narrows her eyes. “I told you. Everyone else in this city is actually on board for a serious attempt at peace. Last time we had a hunter running around, the witches and the vampires nearly went to war. No one wants a repeat of that.”
“I don’t suppose your grandmother gave you any specifics,” Elijah says. “Their numbers, their location.”
Shaking her head, Hope answers, “Unfortunately no. I think the best course of action would be to alert everyone to the danger and keep our wits about us as we gather more information. There’s no need to go off half-cocked and get ourselves killed.”
River stands up from her place on one of the couches. “I’ll head out to the bayou.”
“These are vampire hunters,” Rebekah points out. “The wolves have been safe thus far.”
“Still, someone should fill Rose in, and you never know when these hunters are going to grow bored of just killing one species.”
Hope nods. “Alright. You take Rose, I’ll let Vincent and Josh know.”
“Still no word from Marcel?” Hayley asks.
“No. I’m trying to decide how worried I want to be. It’s not like he’s killable.” She reaches out to tug River in for a kiss on the cheek. “You head out. The sooner Rose knows the better.”
There’s a tiny fold-out kitchen table in the camper, and that’s where Lorena’s set up. She has a map of Louisiana spread out as much as she can, the edges spilling over the tabletop. She looks up at Sebastian, who’s watching her carefully. “Do you have it?”
Sebastian sets a small vial of Marcel’s venom in her outstretched hand. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Nope.” Lorena carefully pours the venom in a circle on the map. “This is a complete guess. But if she’s the only wolf of her pack, then using the Malraux venom in his venom should lead us only to her. Or this could be a complete waste of time.” She shrugs. “It’s magic, what more do you want from me?”
“Fair enough.”
Lorena hovers her hands over the surface of the map and closes her eyes. “Phasmatos tribum, nas es veras, sequitas sanguinem. Phasmatos tribum, nas es veras, sequitas sanguinem.” She carries on like this for a little while, the venom remaining staunchly in place around Louisiana. Sebastian lets out a disappointed sigh, sure that the plan didn’t work, but then the venom starts to move.
“It’s working,” he says, excited, but Lorena ignores him, continuing on with her spell.
The venom makes a sizzling trail across Louisiana, congealing in one place in the middle of the bayou. Lorena stops her chanting. “There.”
Sebastian’s eyes dart between the map and the witch. “There? There’s nothing there. You can’t get more specific?” Lorena shoots him a warning glare, and he backs off. “Fine. I’ll get a couple of guys with ATVs to run out that way, see if we can’t find her.” He makes for the door.
Marcel shouts something muffled, and both Lorena and Sebastian turn to look at him. “What do you want?” the hunter asks, bored.
Lorena walks to Marcel and uses her magic to remove his mask. He pants, finally free of the pain, and says, “Are you really going to kill a teenage girl?”
Sebastian rolls her eyes. “She’s a werewolf who’s triggered the curse, so it’s not exactly like she’s citizen of the year. Besides, how many teenage girls do you reckon the Original vampires have killed in their many lifetimes?”
“Too many to count. Does River deserve to die for that?”
Sebastian looks away, but says, “She’ll be a sacrifice for the greater good. With her out of the way, the Original vampires won’t be able to cure themselves of your venom, and we’ll be ridding the world of thousands of killers.”
“You’re the most despicable of us all,” Marcel spits.
Sebastian gestures to the vampire chained up. “Put that mask back on him and shut him up.” Then he shoves the door open and exits the camper.
River finds her weaving through the trees, her shoulder slumped with a heavy backpack. She starts to jog to catch up. “Rose! Hey Rose!”
Rose doesn’t turn. “Busy.”
Rolling her eyes, River slows to a walk beside the alpha. “Yeah I see that. Where are you going?”
She makes a vague gesture up ahead. “There are some older Crescents who live farther away from the main pack. I check in on them from time to time, see if they need anything.”
With a small smile, River says, “You’re a good alpha, you know that?”
Rose merely shrugs. “What’d you need?”
“Right. Well, remember that vampire hunter I told you about?”
“The one whose sister was dating your girlfriend’s aunt?” Rose snorts. “You city folk lead interesting lives.”
She’s not wrong, River thinks. “Anyway, it turns out that that hunter wasn’t alone.”
Rose side-eyes her. “What does that mean?”
“According to the ancestors? There are more. Here. In New Orleans.”
“And they’ve been here the whole time?”
“That’s not what it sounded like, but honestly I don’t know. Listen, I just came out to give you a head’s up.”
Rose comes to a stop. “Why would we need a head’s up? They’re vampire hunters. Last time I checked, there weren’t many vampires slumming it out here in the bayou.”
Stopping too, River points out, “Some wolves have moved into the city in the past few months. And besides, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask everyone to be on the alert. For all we know, some of these hunters are equal-opportunity murderers.”
“True.” Rose begrudgingly gives her a smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
River beams. “We wolves have to stick together, right?”
Instead of answering, Rose rolls her eyes and keeps walking. River follows suit, and starts to ask, “So where do these wolves—” when a loud, echoing gunshot cuts her off, and bark explodes off of the tree four feet to her right. Both women freeze, and then another gunshot rings out, and another, and Rose shouts, “RUN!”
The two dash between the trees, bobbing and weaving through the hail of bullets raining down on them. They seem to be coming from every direction, and following them as they move. Branches fall, and dirt sprays up around them as they run. About half a mile of running in a blind panic, the two collapse behind an old fallen tree, stopping to catch their breath.
“Are these the hunters?” Rose pants.
River shoots her a look. “I think it’s safe to say they’re not park rangers.”
Rose peeks over the top of the log. “Why are they shooting at us?”
“I don’t know!”
Another bullet goes whizzing past, and Rose whips back down out of view. “We can’t stay here, come on.” She grabs River by the arm, and the two take off running again.
Amaya walks uneasily through the hunters’ campsite, staring in awe at the sheer number of vehicles. There must be several dozens of hunters in the bayou, some working out, some shooting arrows at targets, some whittling stakes. Amaya jumps in surprise as a small group lets out a loud cheer, one of their members hit a perfect bullseye on a target constructed from hemp rope and charcoal.
She finds the camper she’s looking for and knocks on the door. It swings open, revealing Sebastian on the tiny staircase. “Oh hey. You made it.”
Amaya nods. “Yeah, thanks for telling me about this place.” When Sebastian steps out of the way, she enters the camper. “I wanted to talk to you about…” She trails off when she sees Marcel chained to the floor at one end, mask sucked to his face. “What…?”
“Oh.” Sebastian gestures to his guest. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just a tool in our plan.”
“Right…” Amaya says slowly. She manages to rip her eyes away from the miserable vampire. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to know your plan to avenge my brother.”
“Hold on.” Sebastian opens the door again and leans out to yell, “Can someone keep me updated on what’s going on with the wolf situation?” He doesn’t even wait for a response for slamming the door shut. “Sorry, there’s a lot going on right now. We’re trying to get our ducks in a row.”
Amaya watches as he starts shuffling papers around, looking for something. “Have you figured out who killed Joel? I know…I know someone who knows but I doubt she’ll tell me. Not after…” She shakes her head. “Not after everything.”
“What?” Sebastian barely looks up from his work. “Sorry, I don’t have time to really talk right now.”
She looks affronted. “How do you not have time to talk about my dead brother? You said that if I helped you, you’d help me make the people who killed him pay. He was one of you, and he was killed—”
“Your brother was killed because he was an idiot!” Amaya falls silent. “Your brother thought he was Rambo and it got him killed. We told him not to go after the Original vampires by himself, we told him to wait for the rest of us, and he went and picked a fight with the most dangerous vampires in history anyway. So my sincerest apologies for your loss, but my focus right now is not on avenging the death of a moron. I have too many other people to worry about.” And with that, Sebastian grabs a fistful of papers and storms out of the camper, leaving a distraught Amaya to stand in stunned silence.
River and Rose are flying through the woods, hurtling over bushes and fallen branches. From every direction bullets come flying, hunters popping out from behind trees to take shots at them. River’s lungs are starting to burn from the exhaustion, and she pants, “We have to turn!”
“I can’t!” Rose cries, ducking an arrow as it whizzes past. “I don’t have a ring!”
River curses. “I told you—”
“Maybe lecture me later!” A pause. “You turn!”
River nearly stumbles in her surprise. “What?”
“If you turn—” She dodges a low-hanging branch. “—you can get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you behind!” River shouts.
Rose spots a thick row of elderberry bushes and pulls River behind them. They heave to catch their breaths. “Get out of here,” Rose insists.
“No. Not a chance in hell.”
Lowering her voice to a hiss, Rose says, “You can get out of here! I can find a place to hide—I know this bayou like I know how to breathe. If you’re a wolf you’ll make it out of here.”
River hesitates, weighing her options, but then shakes her head stubbornly. “Wolves do not leave each other behind.”
Rose opens her mouth to argue, but then her eyes widen as she looks over River’s shoulder in fear. A few hundred yards away, a flannel-clad hunter stares through the sight of his rifle, which is pointed right at River’s back. “Watch out!” Rose grabs River and whips her to the ground just as the shot rings out.
River hits the ground painfully, branches digging into her skin, and she crawls behind a different bush, out of view of the hunter. She looks Rose. “Thanks, we better—” Her sentence trails off.
Rose stares back at her, eyes wide. Her hands clutch her abdomen, right at the bottom of her ribcage. Already, gleaming, viscous blood oozes between her fingers.
“Rose?”
The alpha blinks once, and then slumps to the ground, her eyes staring up at nothing.
Amaya sits heavily on the tiny bench seat inside the camper, eyes staring a thousand miles away. The door is ripped open and Lorena enters. She doesn’t even acknowledge the distraught woman as she marches over to Marcel and examines his mask. “Looks like we tapped you out again.” She presses her hands to either side of the mask, and after a moment, it pops off of his face. “Let’s give you some time to restock, huh?” She sets the mask to the side and stands up.
“She’s a kid.”
Lorena gives a half-hearted shrug. “She’s a kid, but she’s a kid we need out of the picture.” She gestures to Amaya. “What’s up with her?”
“She’s just starting to realize what an ass your boss is.”
“I don’t have a boss,” she’s quick to say, but even she doesn’t sound like she believes it. “Whatever. I’ll give you an hour. Then it’s back on with the mask.” She sweeps out of the camper without another word.
Silence reigns for a while as Marcel watches Amaya stare blankly at the floor. Eventually he asks, “Are you okay?”
Amaya looks at him, shocked. “What?”
Shifting so that he’s not so contorted on the ground, Marcel says, “What that asshole said was harsh.”
Scrubbing a thumb under her eyes, Amaya nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it was. But then again, it seems like he knew my brother better than I did, so…”
“He was the hunter, wasn’t he? The hunter who was killing vampires in my town for a few weeks.”
Amaya nods again. “I had no idea. I thought worked on the docks.” She swallows, and looks down at her hands in her lap. “I guess I never really knew him at all.”
Marcel chooses his next words carefully. “I can see that you loved your brother, and I have no doubt that he loved you, too. But the thing is…he killed a lot of people, good people that were like family to me. And he shot an innocent teenager in her own home. Nearly killed her.”
“She’s Freya’s niece.” That gets her to open her eyes again. “He thought she was a vampire, and your girlfriend nearly lost her niece.”
“How did you…”
Marcel shrugs. “I know everything that goes on in my city. I know about you and Freya, and I know how she wanted to protect you from all of this. But she couldn’t, because your brother made you a part of this the second he signed on with this crowd.”
Amaya stays quiet, brain churning as she tries to process everything Marcel’s saying. After a while, she asks, “Who’s just a kid?”
“What?”
“Earlier. To that w…to her. You said ‘she’s a kid.’ Who were you talking about?”
Marcel sighs. “Freya’s niece has a girlfriend. Her name is River. She’s eighteen, and a werewolf, and this crew, these friends of your brother’s? They’re out there trying to kill her.”
The breath whooshes out of Amaya. “Why are they trying to kill her?”
“It’s a long story, and does it really matter? She’s a college freshman. She doesn’t deserve to be killed by Elmer Fudd’s lackeys.”
Amaya stands up. “I have to go.”
Marcel can see that she’s heard enough. “Fine. Just know this: that dick out there may have made you feel small, but you have a lot more power than you think you do.”
She stares at him strangely, as if really seeing him for the first time, and then, without another word, turns and leaves the camper.
The color has completely left River’s face as she sits, frozen, staring at Rose’s dead body. Blood has pooled on her torso, dripping sanguinely down her sides. She can’t move, even as the sounds of gunshots grow louder.
There’s a haze in her mind, her thoughts thick like molasses as she looks at her friend, but there’s the sharp crack of a branch just a few feet behind her, and finally a cogent thought breaks through: Get out. She heaves one dry sob as she closes her eyes and tears herself into a wolf. Now hulking and dark, River the wolf noses Rose’s body once, a quiet goodbye. Then she bounds away, a shadowy blur between the trees, easily dodging hunters and their weapons until, before long, she is far from the scene of the crime.
Hayley is waiting for her daughter in the compound when she returns. “Everyone knows?”
Hope nods. “Vincent and Josh are filling in their people now. We’re meeting in a few hours to talk about our strategy going forward.”
“Any word from Marcel?” Elijah asks, coming down the stairs.
“No. I’m officially in the worried zone.”
Hayley pulls her daughter into a hug. “We’ll find him. I’m sure he’s okay.”
Before Hope can answer, there a loud banging sound from out of sight. All three turn to see a giant wolf galloping in from the direction of the entrance to the tunnels.
“What the hell?” Hayley says, surprised.
At first Hope is confused, but then she recognizes the look behind the wolf’s eyes. “Oh my god.” She rushes to the wolf, ignoring her mother’s noise of concern. “River?”
The wolf starts to shrink, bones cracking horribly as it turns back into a human. As the fur recedes, Hope turns to her uncle. “Elijah!”
Understanding immediately, Elijah whips off his suit jacket and tosses it to his niece. Hope twists back to face the wolf just as her girlfriend emerges. She quickly wraps a trembling River up in the jacket. “River, what happened? You’re shaking.” She looks her girlfriend over. She’s covered in a myriad of scrapes and blooming bruises. “River?”
Looking at Hope with watery eyes, River whispers, “They ambushed us out in the bayou.”
“The hunters?” Elijah asks.
“They killed her,” is the reply. “She’s dead.”
“Killed who?” Hope presses. “Who’s dead?”
“Rose.” Hope makes a choked noise. “Rose is dead.”
Back in the attic, Hope is this time surrounded by both an uncle and an aunt. Kol lounges lazily against the wall, munching on an apple, as Freya wafts a burning bundle of sage around the space. From her place cross-legged on the floor, Hope watches skeptically. “Do you really think sage is going to keep the ancestors from talking to me?”
“I’m cleansing the air,” Freya explains. “I want you to start with a fresh headspace when we begin our work. This won’t drive them away, but it will keep things quiet as we go.”
Hope’s eyes flick over to Kol, who merely shrugs and takes another chunk out of his apple. Freya finishes her cleansing and sets the sage down, picking up a mortar filled with a dull mound of crushed herbs. Hope eyes it suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“Devil’s claw and lemon balm. It’s a classic witch’s recipe. Together they’ll dispel unwanted psychic energy.” Freya presses her thumb into the herbs, and then places a simple dot in the center of Hope’s forehead. “There. Now we should be ready to begin.”
“Finally,” Kol says. “We’ve been here half an hour already.”
“At least I came with a plan more sophisticated than focusing on a candle,” Freya snarks back. She smiles down at Hope. “Now, close your eyes.” Hope acquiesces. “Let down the barrier you’ve created between yourself and the ancestors. Let the voices come as they come. Let them wash over you.”
Hope takes a few deep breaths, and then slowly, the low hum of voices in the back of her mind grows louder, as if someone is turning the dial on a stereo. Soon, they’re so loud that she can barely hear Freya say, “Breathe in, and then exhale, and create a space of silence around yourself.”
Unsure, Hope breathes in deeply, and when she lets out a long, slow breath, she opens her eyes—only to find her aunt and uncle mysteriously gone. “Aunt Freya? Uncle Kol?” Hope looks around, and she can feel that something isn’t right. The colors of the attic are wrong, washed out and hazy. “Oh no.”
“Hello, Hope.”
She turns and sees her, resplendent in white. “Hi, Esther.”
A The Originals fic. Season two, episode ten, “What a Life, What a Waste,” will be uploaded at 8p on Sunday, December 17.
