What's At Stake, Part Two

DISCLAIMER:  I don't own 'em, no money exchanged, etc.

No more rehashing from the show.  This is an original scene of what happened (as I see it) after Elijah pulled the stake out of his chest at the brokedown mansion.

As always, comments and feedback welcome.
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Elijah followed the bellboy to the executive suite and slipped him a hundred dollar bill from the clip in his pocket. The young man accepted it with a perfunctory nod and closed the door quietly behind him. If he wondered at the state of Elijah's clothing – dust-ridden, bloody and torn – he gave no indication beyond a slight raising of his eyebrows. The money precluded any further probing, just as his platinum credit card had garnered the same service and discretion at the Jefferson Hotel's concierge station. Money might talk, but it also assured that those receiving it wouldn't.

Confident that the clothing he'd sent a concierge to purchase for him would be waiting in the room when he finished, Elijah peeled off the ruined suit and stepped into the marble-lined shower in the elegant bathroom. He turned on water to the multiple jets and set the temperature to just shy of scalding. Bracing his hands against the slick marble, he leaned into the cascade and stood immobile for several minutes, letting the hot water wash down over him.

The dried, crusted blood sluiced off of his body and ran red once more as it pooled and circled the drain; the flesh underneath was smooth and unmarred from the stake that had impaled him. That wound had closed and heeled as soon as he'd pulled the wood from his chest. The only marks he carried were veteran scars, long healed, from ancient battles he'd fought before he turned. The scars he'd earned since then – some minor, some grievous – were invisible, and of no one's concern save his.

He had misplayed things today. Too confident in his strength and in his reputation, he had let the young vampire – little more than a newborn, really – slip under his guard. It was very seldom that anything surprised him, but today had been one surprise upon another. Katerina: secured and in a known location. Moonstone: the same. And a true Petrova doppelganger, one that was still alive and human and ergo viable.

Alive, human, and already acquainted with vampires and the supernatural. He'd been hasty in thinking he could take and squirrel her away somewhere until he figured out how best to use her to his advantage. Another error on the day. Best now to put a plan together before approaching her again. If he handled it just right, perhaps he could gain her cooperation, reason with her. God knew there'd been no reasoning with Katerina.

Elijah turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. After drying off, he slipped into the hotel-provided robe and padded back out into the room. Sure enough, the purchases he'd requested were hung in the closet, the receipt for same tucked discreetly under the clip holding the garment bag closed. He tucked that into an outer pocket in his briefcase and pulled out his laptop. While it booted up, he called for room service (thank God for a 24-hour menu) and fetched his phone out of his discarded jacket. Fetching a bourbon from the well-stocked in-room bar, he noted the late hour, but opted to make his call anyway.

The phone rang six or seven times before the bleary voice answered on the other end. "'Uhn-lo?"

"Jonas."

"Elijah?" The voice sounded suddenly more alert. He could picture the warlock scrubbing his hands vigorously over his face in an attempt to fully wake.

"A... singular opportunity has presented itself. We need to reconnoiter, decide how best to make use of it."

"What opportunity?"

"Not over the phone." Tapping a few more keys on the computer, Elijah completed the transaction and hit 'send.' "I've purchased a ticket to Richmond, Virginia, for you. You'll find the confirmation and details in your email. You arrive tomorrow... actually, I guess that would be today, at 4:10 p.m. A car will be waiting to bring you to the Jefferson. We'll talk here."

"What about Luka?" Jonas now sounded completely awake, and cautious.

"Leave him home for now. You may wish to prepare him, though; I think the two of you will be relocating, at least temporarily, in the very near future."

"Whatever you've found, it's that big?"

"Bigger. I'll see you this afternoon." Elijah ended the call, pulled up his contact list, and sent out another call.

"Guhr?"

"Philip. I need you to do something for me. Slater?" Elijah closed the laptop and rose to look out the window.

"Elijah?  Uh, what about him?"

"I need you to hack this Slater's Craigslist account and any other accounts he may be using to make connections to any of us, but especially to Klaus."

The other man coughed to clear his throat, more awake now. "What am I looking for?"

"I want to know whom he's contacted, who has contacted him, and whom those people have in turn contacted within the last week or so."

"That's... a really tall order, Elijah. Slater is pretty savvy with this stuff, and paranoid besides. He will have covered his tracks."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll prove up to the task," Elijah said. His voice was soft and silken, but the implied consequence of failure stirred a turbulence underneath that smooth surface.

"It's going to take some time – "

"I'll call you tomorrow." Elijah's thumb on the 'end' button cut the protestation off mid-sentence. Philip always worked better under pressure. He was confident he'd get results.

A brisk knock at the door came as Elijah plugged his phone in to charge. "Room service," a voice called from the hallway.

Elijah opened the door and motioned the server inside. The man was perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, fresh-faced in a preppy sort of way. He set the covered trays out on the table and prepared the place-setting as Elijah waited. Last came a crystal tumbler and the expensive bottle of single malt scotch Elijah had ordered. "Will there be anything else, sir?" he asked, straightening.

"As a matter of fact, yes." In a blur of movement Elijah had him pinned, his back against the wall next to the bed. He caught the man's eyes with his and rolled his will over the weaker mind. "You will remain still and quiet," he compelled.

At the acquiescent nod, Elijah extended his fangs and bit into the man's jugular. Using his thumb, he kept enough pressure on the vein to manage the flow rate, so that the hot blood poured into his mouth only as fast as he could drink it. The man's body relaxed against his as he fed, and Elijah settled him more firmly against him with an arm around his waist, drinking long and deep.

He generally required very little blood anymore, but the day's events had left him hungrier than usual. Elijah held the man in his embrace, drinking in his life force, until he felt the body start to slump as consciousness threatened to flee. He disengaged and, putting his thumb over the wound to staunch the bloodflow, he used a fang to slice a gash in his own finger. As blood welled briefly, he swiped it over the bite mark in the man's neck and watched the wound close and disappear. He took his time licking the last of the blood clean, then took a step back.

The server swayed a little, but remained upright, his face pale but calm. Elijah put a companionable arm across his shoulders and walked him to the door. When he had assured himself that the man wouldn't faint, he turned him so they were once more face to face. Another catch of the eyes, and Elijah told him, "You came to this room and delivered the meal. We spoke of inconsequential things for a few moments, then I tipped you and you left. You will remember nothing else."

"Nothing else," the man repeated.

Elijah crossed to the desk and peeled another hundred from his money clip, then returned and tucked it into the man's pocket. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmured and, smirking, opened the door and gestured him out.

Dinner thus accomplished, Elijah opened the scotch and switched the wide screen TV onto CNN to catch up with the day's headlines before settling in to start his research.