Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Pretty Little Vampires
I don't know who made this so I can't give proper credit for it, but it's awesome. Here's the Tumblr link: http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lhpoy4pi1M1qaqt70o1_r1_500.png
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
What's At Stake, Part Four
Wow, this scene (the part with Klaus) has been kicking my ass. Still not sure I'm 100% happy with it, but fussing at it is just going to drive me nuts, so for better or worse here it is. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Me = needy. ;-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The loft was airy, spacious, and far better appointed than Elijah had expected it to be. Given what he had heard of this “Slater,” he had rather expected a dingy room in a basement somewhere. But the modern industrial décor boasted hardwood floors and weathered brick along with the exposed beams and piping that were common to these converted buildings. Large windows lined one wall; the fact that the window treatments didn’t fully cover their broad expanse was a good indication that they were tempered glass, as was the large print centered above what Jonas had dubbed “command central” when they had entered the apartment. The sun theme was echoed in the wallpaper on the six monitors that graced the large computer desk. Furnishings were minimalist but tasteful, and the books that filled the shelves to overflowing spoke of a broad intellectual curiosity.
Elijah was going to regret having to kill him.
“How are you settling in?” he asked Jonas, seating himself at the desk. He glanced at the information Philip had sent and typed in the code that would override the system's security.
“The apartment is mostly still a maze of boxes, but unpacking hasn’t really been a priority.” Jonas finished up one bookcase that he was sweeping for anything of mystical use and moved on to a second. “Luka started school this week. He met Bonnie Bennett. We both did, actually.”
“And?” Elijah located Slater’s database on the hard drive and started running Philip’s program to break the encryption.
“She does have the Gift.”
“Strong?”
“Moderately. The potential is there, but she’s mostly untrained. Luka’s been teaching her a few little tricks.” Jonas pulled out a section of books, checked behind them for anything that may have been hidden there. “He likes her.” The warlock didn’t sound happy about it.
“Well that’s good. It will certainly simplify matters.” The dialog box stopped scrolling as it hit on the password. Seconds later it disappeared and the database opened on-screen. Elijah put a thumb drive into the USB port and started the download. When Jonas didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes and swiveled the chair around to face him. “What?”
“Hmm?”
“I can hear your lips pursing in disapproval from here. What is it?”
Jonas put the books back on the shelf and turned. “He… likes her.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the shelf.
“He’s an adolescent male. She’s an adolescent female. They have a ‘special secret’ in common. It follows.”
“I know that,” the warlock bit out. Jonas shifted his weight to the other foot. “He’s having some misgivings about deceiving her.”
“But he’ll do as he’s told.” It wasn’t a question. His tone warned that it hadn’t better become one.
“He knows what’s at stake. He’ll do what I’ve asked.” Jonas glared at him. “It doesn’t mean he has to like it.” The warlock turned down the hall. “I’m going to check the bedroom.”
Elijah turned back to the computer. The little download progress bar was taking a leisurely stroll across the monitor. He left it to its meandering and stood at the window, watching the hustle and bustle of daily life unfold below. Four college-aged girls exited a gift boutique, two of them talking on cell phones as they walked. A youth on a skateboard slalomed through the crowd, drawing an angry yell from the sidewalk busker as the speedster clipped his guitar case and scattered coins over the pavement. A man in a three-piece suit barked into his Bluetooth and switched his briefcase to the opposite hand as he walked into a small law office. And two repairmen struggled to balance a sheet of glass between them as they shuffled from their work van to the coffee shop’s storefront, and the gaping hole left in it by his impromptu coin toss the day before. How much of the scene below would be gone, wiped out, if Klaus had his way?
He knows what’s at stake. No, he really didn’t. He had no idea. He couldn't.
*****
Elijah sat at the table, dumbstruck. Klaus's tirade had evidently put him in need of a drink. He crossed the room to the bar, crystal singing against crystal as he poured brandy from a Waterford decanter. Elijah heard him down two snifters full before he returned to the table with a third.
"Well?" Klaus leaned back against the rich leather, crossing his legs in front of him. "Say something. Speak. God knows you've never been short on opinions."
You've lost your damn mind. That was his opinion. But it wouldn't do to say that aloud. Klaus's increasingly mercurial moods and bouts of violent temper had set the entire compound on edge, everyone tiptoeing around in an effort to remain unnoticed. It was getting to the point where Elijah was the only one to speak to Klaus – as he was the only one who was more or less guaranteed to survive the experience.
"What you're talking about... It's – "
"Well. Past. Time." Klaus punctuated each word with a finger-tap on the table. "We need to call everyone together. Strategize."
"Klaus – "
"We can't wait on this any longer, Elijah."
"This isn't – "
"We need to move before it goes too far!"
Elijah stood and leaned his hands on the table, facing him down over the shining mahogany. "Too far?! What would you have us do? Turn back time?" He pushed himself back from the table to pace the room.
Klaus slapped his palm on the table, bouncing the snifter off of it to land with a muted crash on the floor. "Our kind cannot bear up under these things. We'll be discovered. Everyone with a camera and the ability to send photos all over the world in a heartbeat? Someone is going to notice."
"That ship sailed a long, long time ago."
"And we were too complacent. When the humans catch on – and they will catch on – it won't just be one little village. There are too many now, with too many weapons." Klaus stood, grinding the bits of crystal into the carpet. "We're not talking about a few meager peasants with stakes and pitchforks and torches. Or a shaman, with a knife and a moonstone, and a girl to sacrifice," he said, pointedly. Elijah clenched his jaw, but didn't take the bait. "And what happens when machines replace people at airports and banks and wherever else? We can't compel machines, Elijah."
"Yes: There are too many. And they're connected. Everything to everything else." Elijah shook his head, crossed to the bar, poured himself a drink. "Communication, learning, science, resources, supply chains... all global. What you are talking about would require a complete and utter devastation of infrastructure in every, single, developed nation. Simultaneously."
Klaus smiled and came over to him, putting his hands on Elijah's shoulders. "See? You're planning already."
"That isn't planning, Klaus. It's stating fact. It can't be done."
"Oh, I have faith in you, my trusted general. When have you ever let me down?" Klaus slid his hands upward, cupping Elijah's face in them. Leaning in, he whispered, "Well, except for that one time."
Here we go. Elijah gave no answer; what was there to say?
"But then," Klaus continued, "I suppose it can't really be called a failure. To say it was a failure would be to imply that you had actually tried to succeed." He brought his face to within an inch of Elijah's. "And you didn't do that, did you? I think we both know why."
"Don't." The word came out as little more than a growl.
Klaus released him with a shove, pushing him back against the bar. He hit hard enough to knock a few glasses astray, but the heavy piece of furniture held.
"Did you think I didn't know?" Klaus moved in again, his chest bumping Elijah's and forcing him to lean back across the bar to try and keep some small distance between them. "Did you truly expect me to believe that you, an Original, couldn't track one newly-made vampire?" He pulled away as quickly as he had moved in, strolling over to the leather sofa and trailing his hands along the back of it. His voice took on a sudden, conspiratorial joviality. "Oh, and your extracurricular activities afterward? Not that I disapprove, per se. Except for the part where they made it exceedingly improbable that I'm to find another doppelganger. I'd say you owe me for that."
Klaus sat down on one end of the sofa, motioning Elijah toward the other. "Now: come, sit. Let's discuss what we're going to do. Since I know that you don't want to disappoint me again."
Elijah had left the compound – and Klaus – that night.
*****
A low beep from the computer pulled Elijah's attention away from the window. Download complete, he pocketed the thumb drive and pulled a second from his breast pocket. Inserting it into the USB port, he pulled up the single file on it and pressed 'Run' to upload the mal-ware that would erase the hard drive. It was possible that there was a back-up somewhere, but there was nothing to be done about that.
He heard the downstairs door open, and swiveled the chair so he was facing the apartment door. Stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles, he laced his fingers together behind his head, the picture of perfect ease when Slater entered.
"What the hell – " The vampire sped over to the desk and would have raised a hand to strike, had he not found himself suddenly and without warning against the brick wall on the opposite side of the room, pinned there with his feet dangling, held up by an iron grip around his throat.
"Slater, I presume," Elijah said, his tone conversational. "I think we should chat."
He felt Slater's throat working under his hand, and released him. Slater bent at the waist and coughed, straightening cautiously once he could draw breath again to speak. "Who are you?" he croaked out.
"I'm Elijah." He smiled at the look of panic his introduction engendered.
"Oh my God! Elijah! The Original Elijah! I... I thought you were dead. Well of course you're dead. 'Cause you're a vampire. I mean I thought you were dead-dead. That's what Rose said. Oh God, I'm rhyming." A sudden thought caused him to look even more alarmed, and he raised his hands in front of him. "Hey, not that I had anything to do with the dead-making! I had no idea about any of that, or any Salvatores or moonstones or werewolves or the other stuff... that I'm probably not supposed to mention. Anyway, I'm not the dead-making guy, I'm just the guy with the lists and the contacts and the search engine and oh God please say something so I'll stop talking!"
"You went to some trouble to contact me."
"Oh, it was no trouble!" Elijah cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ah, I don't mean it was easy. Just that it wasn't... I didn't mind..."
Elijah almost grinned at him, tripping all over his tongue as he was. Almost. "Other than the people you contacted via the Internet, who knows you were trying to reach me?"
"Just Cody. Cody Webber. I spoke with him on the phone."
"And what does he know?"
"Just that Rose was trying to get in touch with you. That's all."
"Excellent." Elijah did smile at him then. "It wouldn't do to be seen talking out of turn."
Slater offered a tentative smile back, looking slightly relieved. "Hey, that's cool. Wow, I can't believe you're here. An Original, in Richmond, in my apartment... Hey, wait a minute. The coffee shop..." he glanced over toward the window. "Was that you?"
"Mmm." He gave a low, non-committal hum.
"'Cause I gotta say, neat trick. I mean the whole sun scorching my flesh thing kinda sucked, but major points for style, dude."
"I'm glad you appreciated it." Oh, he really was sorry he was going to have to kill this one. He would have been useful and amusing to keep around. But the risk he posed was too great. "Do you have a cell phone, Slater?"
"Uh, yeah. Right here. Why?" He slid the phone out of his jeans pocket.
"Good." Elijah caught his gaze and rolled the other vampire's mind. "I need you to make a phone call..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The loft was airy, spacious, and far better appointed than Elijah had expected it to be. Given what he had heard of this “Slater,” he had rather expected a dingy room in a basement somewhere. But the modern industrial décor boasted hardwood floors and weathered brick along with the exposed beams and piping that were common to these converted buildings. Large windows lined one wall; the fact that the window treatments didn’t fully cover their broad expanse was a good indication that they were tempered glass, as was the large print centered above what Jonas had dubbed “command central” when they had entered the apartment. The sun theme was echoed in the wallpaper on the six monitors that graced the large computer desk. Furnishings were minimalist but tasteful, and the books that filled the shelves to overflowing spoke of a broad intellectual curiosity.
Elijah was going to regret having to kill him.
“How are you settling in?” he asked Jonas, seating himself at the desk. He glanced at the information Philip had sent and typed in the code that would override the system's security.
“The apartment is mostly still a maze of boxes, but unpacking hasn’t really been a priority.” Jonas finished up one bookcase that he was sweeping for anything of mystical use and moved on to a second. “Luka started school this week. He met Bonnie Bennett. We both did, actually.”
“And?” Elijah located Slater’s database on the hard drive and started running Philip’s program to break the encryption.
“She does have the Gift.”
“Strong?”
“Moderately. The potential is there, but she’s mostly untrained. Luka’s been teaching her a few little tricks.” Jonas pulled out a section of books, checked behind them for anything that may have been hidden there. “He likes her.” The warlock didn’t sound happy about it.
“Well that’s good. It will certainly simplify matters.” The dialog box stopped scrolling as it hit on the password. Seconds later it disappeared and the database opened on-screen. Elijah put a thumb drive into the USB port and started the download. When Jonas didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes and swiveled the chair around to face him. “What?”
“Hmm?”
“I can hear your lips pursing in disapproval from here. What is it?”
Jonas put the books back on the shelf and turned. “He… likes her.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the shelf.
“He’s an adolescent male. She’s an adolescent female. They have a ‘special secret’ in common. It follows.”
“I know that,” the warlock bit out. Jonas shifted his weight to the other foot. “He’s having some misgivings about deceiving her.”
“But he’ll do as he’s told.” It wasn’t a question. His tone warned that it hadn’t better become one.
“He knows what’s at stake. He’ll do what I’ve asked.” Jonas glared at him. “It doesn’t mean he has to like it.” The warlock turned down the hall. “I’m going to check the bedroom.”
Elijah turned back to the computer. The little download progress bar was taking a leisurely stroll across the monitor. He left it to its meandering and stood at the window, watching the hustle and bustle of daily life unfold below. Four college-aged girls exited a gift boutique, two of them talking on cell phones as they walked. A youth on a skateboard slalomed through the crowd, drawing an angry yell from the sidewalk busker as the speedster clipped his guitar case and scattered coins over the pavement. A man in a three-piece suit barked into his Bluetooth and switched his briefcase to the opposite hand as he walked into a small law office. And two repairmen struggled to balance a sheet of glass between them as they shuffled from their work van to the coffee shop’s storefront, and the gaping hole left in it by his impromptu coin toss the day before. How much of the scene below would be gone, wiped out, if Klaus had his way?
He knows what’s at stake. No, he really didn’t. He had no idea. He couldn't.
*****
Elijah sat at the table, dumbstruck. Klaus's tirade had evidently put him in need of a drink. He crossed the room to the bar, crystal singing against crystal as he poured brandy from a Waterford decanter. Elijah heard him down two snifters full before he returned to the table with a third.
"Well?" Klaus leaned back against the rich leather, crossing his legs in front of him. "Say something. Speak. God knows you've never been short on opinions."
You've lost your damn mind. That was his opinion. But it wouldn't do to say that aloud. Klaus's increasingly mercurial moods and bouts of violent temper had set the entire compound on edge, everyone tiptoeing around in an effort to remain unnoticed. It was getting to the point where Elijah was the only one to speak to Klaus – as he was the only one who was more or less guaranteed to survive the experience.
"What you're talking about... It's – "
"Well. Past. Time." Klaus punctuated each word with a finger-tap on the table. "We need to call everyone together. Strategize."
"Klaus – "
"We can't wait on this any longer, Elijah."
"This isn't – "
"We need to move before it goes too far!"
Elijah stood and leaned his hands on the table, facing him down over the shining mahogany. "Too far?! What would you have us do? Turn back time?" He pushed himself back from the table to pace the room.
Klaus slapped his palm on the table, bouncing the snifter off of it to land with a muted crash on the floor. "Our kind cannot bear up under these things. We'll be discovered. Everyone with a camera and the ability to send photos all over the world in a heartbeat? Someone is going to notice."
"That ship sailed a long, long time ago."
"And we were too complacent. When the humans catch on – and they will catch on – it won't just be one little village. There are too many now, with too many weapons." Klaus stood, grinding the bits of crystal into the carpet. "We're not talking about a few meager peasants with stakes and pitchforks and torches. Or a shaman, with a knife and a moonstone, and a girl to sacrifice," he said, pointedly. Elijah clenched his jaw, but didn't take the bait. "And what happens when machines replace people at airports and banks and wherever else? We can't compel machines, Elijah."
"Yes: There are too many. And they're connected. Everything to everything else." Elijah shook his head, crossed to the bar, poured himself a drink. "Communication, learning, science, resources, supply chains... all global. What you are talking about would require a complete and utter devastation of infrastructure in every, single, developed nation. Simultaneously."
Klaus smiled and came over to him, putting his hands on Elijah's shoulders. "See? You're planning already."
"That isn't planning, Klaus. It's stating fact. It can't be done."
"Oh, I have faith in you, my trusted general. When have you ever let me down?" Klaus slid his hands upward, cupping Elijah's face in them. Leaning in, he whispered, "Well, except for that one time."
Here we go. Elijah gave no answer; what was there to say?
"But then," Klaus continued, "I suppose it can't really be called a failure. To say it was a failure would be to imply that you had actually tried to succeed." He brought his face to within an inch of Elijah's. "And you didn't do that, did you? I think we both know why."
"Don't." The word came out as little more than a growl.
Klaus released him with a shove, pushing him back against the bar. He hit hard enough to knock a few glasses astray, but the heavy piece of furniture held.
"Did you think I didn't know?" Klaus moved in again, his chest bumping Elijah's and forcing him to lean back across the bar to try and keep some small distance between them. "Did you truly expect me to believe that you, an Original, couldn't track one newly-made vampire?" He pulled away as quickly as he had moved in, strolling over to the leather sofa and trailing his hands along the back of it. His voice took on a sudden, conspiratorial joviality. "Oh, and your extracurricular activities afterward? Not that I disapprove, per se. Except for the part where they made it exceedingly improbable that I'm to find another doppelganger. I'd say you owe me for that."
Klaus sat down on one end of the sofa, motioning Elijah toward the other. "Now: come, sit. Let's discuss what we're going to do. Since I know that you don't want to disappoint me again."
Elijah had left the compound – and Klaus – that night.
*****
A low beep from the computer pulled Elijah's attention away from the window. Download complete, he pocketed the thumb drive and pulled a second from his breast pocket. Inserting it into the USB port, he pulled up the single file on it and pressed 'Run' to upload the mal-ware that would erase the hard drive. It was possible that there was a back-up somewhere, but there was nothing to be done about that.
He heard the downstairs door open, and swiveled the chair so he was facing the apartment door. Stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles, he laced his fingers together behind his head, the picture of perfect ease when Slater entered.
"What the hell – " The vampire sped over to the desk and would have raised a hand to strike, had he not found himself suddenly and without warning against the brick wall on the opposite side of the room, pinned there with his feet dangling, held up by an iron grip around his throat.
"Slater, I presume," Elijah said, his tone conversational. "I think we should chat."
He felt Slater's throat working under his hand, and released him. Slater bent at the waist and coughed, straightening cautiously once he could draw breath again to speak. "Who are you?" he croaked out.
"I'm Elijah." He smiled at the look of panic his introduction engendered.
"Oh my God! Elijah! The Original Elijah! I... I thought you were dead. Well of course you're dead. 'Cause you're a vampire. I mean I thought you were dead-dead. That's what Rose said. Oh God, I'm rhyming." A sudden thought caused him to look even more alarmed, and he raised his hands in front of him. "Hey, not that I had anything to do with the dead-making! I had no idea about any of that, or any Salvatores or moonstones or werewolves or the other stuff... that I'm probably not supposed to mention. Anyway, I'm not the dead-making guy, I'm just the guy with the lists and the contacts and the search engine and oh God please say something so I'll stop talking!"
"You went to some trouble to contact me."
"Oh, it was no trouble!" Elijah cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ah, I don't mean it was easy. Just that it wasn't... I didn't mind..."
Elijah almost grinned at him, tripping all over his tongue as he was. Almost. "Other than the people you contacted via the Internet, who knows you were trying to reach me?"
"Just Cody. Cody Webber. I spoke with him on the phone."
"And what does he know?"
"Just that Rose was trying to get in touch with you. That's all."
"Excellent." Elijah did smile at him then. "It wouldn't do to be seen talking out of turn."
Slater offered a tentative smile back, looking slightly relieved. "Hey, that's cool. Wow, I can't believe you're here. An Original, in Richmond, in my apartment... Hey, wait a minute. The coffee shop..." he glanced over toward the window. "Was that you?"
"Mmm." He gave a low, non-committal hum.
"'Cause I gotta say, neat trick. I mean the whole sun scorching my flesh thing kinda sucked, but major points for style, dude."
"I'm glad you appreciated it." Oh, he really was sorry he was going to have to kill this one. He would have been useful and amusing to keep around. But the risk he posed was too great. "Do you have a cell phone, Slater?"
"Uh, yeah. Right here. Why?" He slid the phone out of his jeans pocket.
"Good." Elijah caught his gaze and rolled the other vampire's mind. "I need you to make a phone call..."
Monday, March 7, 2011
Hey! That's Me! :-D
TVFanatic.com ran a fanfic contest - Take your best guess at how the season will end. My entry got posted on the website.
http://www.tvfanatic.com/2011/03/the-vampire-diaries-contest-winner-the-sacrifice-begins/
The fact that this makes me ridiculously happy serves as notice that perhaps I need a little bit more going on in my life.
http://www.tvfanatic.com/2011/03/the-vampire-diaries-contest-winner-the-sacrifice-begins/
The fact that this makes me ridiculously happy serves as notice that perhaps I need a little bit more going on in my life.
Don't Look
Part Four of "What's At Stake" will be up soon, but this one-off wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Not really a story. Maybe a character study, a watercolor in words, whatever. I asked the question, "What if Elijah had been in love with the original Petrova?" This is what answered.
I'd really love some feedback so please do feel free to comment, on this and on the other story.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Bummer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Don’t look,” she had said.
But of course he had. The blanket she had strung up for privacy showed full well the shape of her body, if not her features, when she changed behind that ersatz screen, backlit by the flickering glow from the fireplace. Even in silhouette, Irina Petrova was a remarkably beautiful girl. Long, silky hair the color of mahogany, large dark eyes, delicate features drawing down into a pointed chin… He had been powerless against the feelings she awakened in him, feelings that he had long since thought himself incapable of.
He had watched her struggle through the rutted mud, the meandering path too crude to be called a road. He’d seen her shepherd her orphaned siblings from vendor to vendor in a doomed effort to procure some means of labor that would provide sustenance for them all. He had observed her increasing desperation as the littlest one, a dark-haired girl whose face palely echoed that of her sister, cried for the bread held out of reach by the stingy baker.
He had seen those dark eyes fill with gratitude as he had handed coin over to the hirsute woman and given bread and sweets to each of them in turn. He’d watched that gratitude war with suspicion and no small amount of fear when he had insisted they return with him to his small house to shelter. He had caught the sound of her tears when she thought herself alone; he knew not whether she wept for her lost parents, for her present circumstance or for the uncertain future, but her cries wrenched his hostage heart as nothing had for so very many lifetimes.
He had gazed at her under hooded lids as she relaxed by increments in his house and in his presence, blossoming as she cared for the children and set about building a life for them in their makeshift home. He had seen the fear flash bright through her eyes when he had revealed his true nature to her, and had closed his own eyes in profound relief when that fear had given way to the dawning light of acceptance. He had felt her yield and had watched the passion fever her skin and the love flood her eyes as she moved, strong yet pliant, underneath him in the night.
And he had gaped in horror as the shaman raised his knife, poised to strike as she lay prone upon the altar. He had stared in horror and impotent rage, throwing himself against the mystical barrier that kept his kind outside the circle, only to be torn away by arms stronger than his own just before that final, fatal, downward plunge.
“Don’t look,” Klaus had told him, and had pulled him away into the night, as the ritual climaxed and the Curse spread its hold over all of them.
********************
He returned from his latest mission to a summons from Klaus, to attend him directly upon his return. He made his way to Klaus’s suite without delay and without stopping to wonder at the strange energy pervading the household. He raised his hand to give a perfunctory knock, but the door opened before he could do so. His Irina exited the chamber, sliding her gaze over him in a sultry, appraising sweep before gathering the rich velvet of her gown and dancing down the corridor, pausing at the end for a moment to turn and give him dark, knowing smile before haring off to some entertainment or other.
“Doppelganger.” The word echoed dully in his shock-numbed mind as Klaus explained a provision of the Curse that would allow, after so many centuries, for it to be broken. Katerina, this one was named. Mistress to a man of lesser means, Klaus had appropriated her when he’d discovered her true purpose. A purpose of which she remained ignorant, pleased as she was to receive the gowns and jewels and privileges afforded the plaything of so wealthy and powerful a nobleman.
He observed her, sometimes covertly and sometimes in the open. He saw the games she played, the way she spun inferences and half-truths to split friendships asunder and turn circumstances to her advantage; he noted her wanton behavior and the wicked games she played with his men, who were too afraid of him and of Klaus to give the little bitch the treatment her cruel amusements deserved. He watched and waited and secretly yearned, for if only there were some small sign, he would risk everything to save her, but all of his hidden hopes went unanswered – there was nothing of Irina in this one. Don’t look.
He took a cruel and profound delight in her terror when finally the truth lay bare, the truth of what Klaus was and of what the future held for her. He happily threw her into the turret room and locked her in there, unmoved as stone by her desperate pleas, her desperate promises, if only he would help her. On the rare occasions when he saw to her feeding and maintenance himself, he taunted her, painting pictures in her mind of the horrors that awaited, once Klaus had readied everything for the sacrifice. He let her cries for mercy, and her curses when none came, fall upon deaf ears, and he rebuilt the hole in the wall around his heart that her appearance had opened.
Her escape then, facilitated as it was by betrayal from one of his own men, enraged him, all out of proportion to the crime itself. He chased her over the countryside, his search mislead and tarried by treachery from within the search party. When at last he drew near, he learned the terrible truth: wily, treacherous Katerina had brought about her own death and Turned, rendering herself unusable as a sacrifice and an eternal thorn in his side for as long as she should continue to exist.
But, he thought, should she indeed continue, she would be forever harried by pursuit and the threat of imminent demise. Were she to slip away from them now, on the heels of her escape, she would know nothing for centuries but a life of fear and running. No peace, no settling down, no anything save the day to day scrabbling of a hand-to-mouth existence too stark and desperate to be called a life. He had only to fail in his mission to find her.
Don’t look.
So when she rode west, he turned instead to the east. Over mountain, over rivers, until he came to her homeland. There he found her childhood home, and there he took an unholy pleasure in slaughtering every last one of her family. Parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces… no one bearing the name of Petrova, either by blood or by marriage, escaped his wholesale slaughter.
There would never again be another Petrova doppelganger to shred his heart as Katerina had done.
***********************
He stands on the balcony and looks down at the girl. “I have a doppelganger,” Rose had said. Surely not. It has to be Katerina, playing one of her endless games. He speeds down the stairs, grips her shoulders, drinks in the scent of her blood, and her fear. Human. Somehow, somewhere, one had lived and had kept the Petrova line going, and here now stood the next in the line.
The long centuries have schooled him too well and too harshly to allow any outward reaction. Inside, though, a trembling starts. He has to get out of here, has to get her out of here. Take her someplace where he can think. The part of his soul that trembles cries out for him to end her right then, right there, as he had thought the line ended five centuries past; end her before the quaking deepens and lays to waste the fortress he has erected against the pain. But the logical, more ruthless part of him knows that she represents a singular opportunity to free himself from Klaus’s shadow once and for all. She is not a person. She is an object, an item to be used to his advantage. He sees nothing else, for he well remembers the harsh lesson of Katerina: don’t look.
When the attack comes, he is distracted, and careless. And when he wakes from his brief death, she is gone.
It takes days for him to find the girl – Elena. He has time to reconsider his course. The plan to snatch her and squirrel her away somewhere is considered and discarded. Too much attention would be drawn by her absence. And it would put him for too long in too close a proximity to her. He watches, and waits, and would have kept his distance had it not been for the girl sending up a beacon for any vampire to come and take her to Klaus. To the slaughter.
Having assured himself that the threat is dispatched, he leaves her in the care of the others. But her actions cause a crack in his defenses, a crack that widens as he waits and watches and plans. She appears to have no thought to her own safety, in fact she actively courts capture. What reason could she have other than to protect those around her, the people whom Klaus would dispatch should he learn of her existence and come to claim her? He struggles with himself, but he has to know.
He surprises her, terrifies her. Fear not for her own sake, but for the aunt and the brother there in the house with her, unaware of the predator in their midst. An idle threat to harm them if she raises the alarm, and she quiets, hearing him out. He promises, if only she’ll see to herself and stop playing the martyr, that he will protect the ones she loves. He makes no such vow on her own behalf; she recognizes the fact, and accepts it. He can see it in her eyes. She accepts that she has to die. She will do so with grace as long as those she loves remain unharmed.
And that, more than anything, makes him determined that she shall not die. Though he can’t yet make that promise to her, he makes it to himself: he will find another way, once Klaus comes, to defeat him. Even if it means his own demise as well. For though he never wanted to look, he sees it. He sees her. And for that reason, he will make his own heart the battlefield on which he faces the man who was once his friend, and is now his greatest enemy.
Elena’s friends and family, though, they are not so accepting. They argue, and threaten, and once she is out of the way and they have the opportunity, they strike. But he is not so easily killed. Lest everything fall apart, lest she be ripped from him before he can prepare for the showdown with Klaus, he must leave with her, take her from them. They will only cause more harm than good, in the end. He hurries to her. Though they’ve tried to murder him, he leaves her friends and family unharmed. He has given her his word.
She is afraid of him, still, and of what he might yet do, though she is his only focus. She threatens to harm herself, to Turn as her predecessor once did. He doesn’t believe her. He knows she is not Katerina.
But he has misjudged her. He cries out in horror as she drives the knife into her own abdomen. Frantic, he throws himself at the threshold, just as he did at the barrier that stood between him and Irina, but it holds, just as it did so long ago. He pleads with her to let him heal her, but first she makes him repeat his promise, the promise not to harm those she loves. Another desperate try at the threshold, and he gives his word. He holds his arms out to her, and she falls into them. He pulls her into his arms – oh God, finally! – and cradles her head against his shoulder as relief pours in, relief that he’s not too late this time, that this time he can save her.
And she plunges the dagger into his heart.
He holds her still, even as death steals over him once more. A last breath leaves his body; his legs weaken and he starts to crumple, releasing her as he falls to the ground. He stares at her as his vision starts to grey, the betrayal sharper than any dagger, all the deeper and more painful for the fact that he never saw it coming. As Stefan rushes to Elena, he can feel himself falling away; from her, from the pain, from the betrayal, from the bone-deep loneliness and the awful certainty that he will somehow be resurrected and forced to feel it all again. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see anything more.
Don’t look.
I'd really love some feedback so please do feel free to comment, on this and on the other story.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Bummer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Don’t look,” she had said.
But of course he had. The blanket she had strung up for privacy showed full well the shape of her body, if not her features, when she changed behind that ersatz screen, backlit by the flickering glow from the fireplace. Even in silhouette, Irina Petrova was a remarkably beautiful girl. Long, silky hair the color of mahogany, large dark eyes, delicate features drawing down into a pointed chin… He had been powerless against the feelings she awakened in him, feelings that he had long since thought himself incapable of.
He had watched her struggle through the rutted mud, the meandering path too crude to be called a road. He’d seen her shepherd her orphaned siblings from vendor to vendor in a doomed effort to procure some means of labor that would provide sustenance for them all. He had observed her increasing desperation as the littlest one, a dark-haired girl whose face palely echoed that of her sister, cried for the bread held out of reach by the stingy baker.
He had seen those dark eyes fill with gratitude as he had handed coin over to the hirsute woman and given bread and sweets to each of them in turn. He’d watched that gratitude war with suspicion and no small amount of fear when he had insisted they return with him to his small house to shelter. He had caught the sound of her tears when she thought herself alone; he knew not whether she wept for her lost parents, for her present circumstance or for the uncertain future, but her cries wrenched his hostage heart as nothing had for so very many lifetimes.
He had gazed at her under hooded lids as she relaxed by increments in his house and in his presence, blossoming as she cared for the children and set about building a life for them in their makeshift home. He had seen the fear flash bright through her eyes when he had revealed his true nature to her, and had closed his own eyes in profound relief when that fear had given way to the dawning light of acceptance. He had felt her yield and had watched the passion fever her skin and the love flood her eyes as she moved, strong yet pliant, underneath him in the night.
And he had gaped in horror as the shaman raised his knife, poised to strike as she lay prone upon the altar. He had stared in horror and impotent rage, throwing himself against the mystical barrier that kept his kind outside the circle, only to be torn away by arms stronger than his own just before that final, fatal, downward plunge.
“Don’t look,” Klaus had told him, and had pulled him away into the night, as the ritual climaxed and the Curse spread its hold over all of them.
********************
He returned from his latest mission to a summons from Klaus, to attend him directly upon his return. He made his way to Klaus’s suite without delay and without stopping to wonder at the strange energy pervading the household. He raised his hand to give a perfunctory knock, but the door opened before he could do so. His Irina exited the chamber, sliding her gaze over him in a sultry, appraising sweep before gathering the rich velvet of her gown and dancing down the corridor, pausing at the end for a moment to turn and give him dark, knowing smile before haring off to some entertainment or other.
“Doppelganger.” The word echoed dully in his shock-numbed mind as Klaus explained a provision of the Curse that would allow, after so many centuries, for it to be broken. Katerina, this one was named. Mistress to a man of lesser means, Klaus had appropriated her when he’d discovered her true purpose. A purpose of which she remained ignorant, pleased as she was to receive the gowns and jewels and privileges afforded the plaything of so wealthy and powerful a nobleman.
He observed her, sometimes covertly and sometimes in the open. He saw the games she played, the way she spun inferences and half-truths to split friendships asunder and turn circumstances to her advantage; he noted her wanton behavior and the wicked games she played with his men, who were too afraid of him and of Klaus to give the little bitch the treatment her cruel amusements deserved. He watched and waited and secretly yearned, for if only there were some small sign, he would risk everything to save her, but all of his hidden hopes went unanswered – there was nothing of Irina in this one. Don’t look.
He took a cruel and profound delight in her terror when finally the truth lay bare, the truth of what Klaus was and of what the future held for her. He happily threw her into the turret room and locked her in there, unmoved as stone by her desperate pleas, her desperate promises, if only he would help her. On the rare occasions when he saw to her feeding and maintenance himself, he taunted her, painting pictures in her mind of the horrors that awaited, once Klaus had readied everything for the sacrifice. He let her cries for mercy, and her curses when none came, fall upon deaf ears, and he rebuilt the hole in the wall around his heart that her appearance had opened.
Her escape then, facilitated as it was by betrayal from one of his own men, enraged him, all out of proportion to the crime itself. He chased her over the countryside, his search mislead and tarried by treachery from within the search party. When at last he drew near, he learned the terrible truth: wily, treacherous Katerina had brought about her own death and Turned, rendering herself unusable as a sacrifice and an eternal thorn in his side for as long as she should continue to exist.
But, he thought, should she indeed continue, she would be forever harried by pursuit and the threat of imminent demise. Were she to slip away from them now, on the heels of her escape, she would know nothing for centuries but a life of fear and running. No peace, no settling down, no anything save the day to day scrabbling of a hand-to-mouth existence too stark and desperate to be called a life. He had only to fail in his mission to find her.
Don’t look.
So when she rode west, he turned instead to the east. Over mountain, over rivers, until he came to her homeland. There he found her childhood home, and there he took an unholy pleasure in slaughtering every last one of her family. Parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces… no one bearing the name of Petrova, either by blood or by marriage, escaped his wholesale slaughter.
There would never again be another Petrova doppelganger to shred his heart as Katerina had done.
***********************
He stands on the balcony and looks down at the girl. “I have a doppelganger,” Rose had said. Surely not. It has to be Katerina, playing one of her endless games. He speeds down the stairs, grips her shoulders, drinks in the scent of her blood, and her fear. Human. Somehow, somewhere, one had lived and had kept the Petrova line going, and here now stood the next in the line.
The long centuries have schooled him too well and too harshly to allow any outward reaction. Inside, though, a trembling starts. He has to get out of here, has to get her out of here. Take her someplace where he can think. The part of his soul that trembles cries out for him to end her right then, right there, as he had thought the line ended five centuries past; end her before the quaking deepens and lays to waste the fortress he has erected against the pain. But the logical, more ruthless part of him knows that she represents a singular opportunity to free himself from Klaus’s shadow once and for all. She is not a person. She is an object, an item to be used to his advantage. He sees nothing else, for he well remembers the harsh lesson of Katerina: don’t look.
When the attack comes, he is distracted, and careless. And when he wakes from his brief death, she is gone.
It takes days for him to find the girl – Elena. He has time to reconsider his course. The plan to snatch her and squirrel her away somewhere is considered and discarded. Too much attention would be drawn by her absence. And it would put him for too long in too close a proximity to her. He watches, and waits, and would have kept his distance had it not been for the girl sending up a beacon for any vampire to come and take her to Klaus. To the slaughter.
Having assured himself that the threat is dispatched, he leaves her in the care of the others. But her actions cause a crack in his defenses, a crack that widens as he waits and watches and plans. She appears to have no thought to her own safety, in fact she actively courts capture. What reason could she have other than to protect those around her, the people whom Klaus would dispatch should he learn of her existence and come to claim her? He struggles with himself, but he has to know.
He surprises her, terrifies her. Fear not for her own sake, but for the aunt and the brother there in the house with her, unaware of the predator in their midst. An idle threat to harm them if she raises the alarm, and she quiets, hearing him out. He promises, if only she’ll see to herself and stop playing the martyr, that he will protect the ones she loves. He makes no such vow on her own behalf; she recognizes the fact, and accepts it. He can see it in her eyes. She accepts that she has to die. She will do so with grace as long as those she loves remain unharmed.
And that, more than anything, makes him determined that she shall not die. Though he can’t yet make that promise to her, he makes it to himself: he will find another way, once Klaus comes, to defeat him. Even if it means his own demise as well. For though he never wanted to look, he sees it. He sees her. And for that reason, he will make his own heart the battlefield on which he faces the man who was once his friend, and is now his greatest enemy.
Elena’s friends and family, though, they are not so accepting. They argue, and threaten, and once she is out of the way and they have the opportunity, they strike. But he is not so easily killed. Lest everything fall apart, lest she be ripped from him before he can prepare for the showdown with Klaus, he must leave with her, take her from them. They will only cause more harm than good, in the end. He hurries to her. Though they’ve tried to murder him, he leaves her friends and family unharmed. He has given her his word.
She is afraid of him, still, and of what he might yet do, though she is his only focus. She threatens to harm herself, to Turn as her predecessor once did. He doesn’t believe her. He knows she is not Katerina.
But he has misjudged her. He cries out in horror as she drives the knife into her own abdomen. Frantic, he throws himself at the threshold, just as he did at the barrier that stood between him and Irina, but it holds, just as it did so long ago. He pleads with her to let him heal her, but first she makes him repeat his promise, the promise not to harm those she loves. Another desperate try at the threshold, and he gives his word. He holds his arms out to her, and she falls into them. He pulls her into his arms – oh God, finally! – and cradles her head against his shoulder as relief pours in, relief that he’s not too late this time, that this time he can save her.
And she plunges the dagger into his heart.
He holds her still, even as death steals over him once more. A last breath leaves his body; his legs weaken and he starts to crumple, releasing her as he falls to the ground. He stares at her as his vision starts to grey, the betrayal sharper than any dagger, all the deeper and more painful for the fact that he never saw it coming. As Stefan rushes to Elena, he can feel himself falling away; from her, from the pain, from the betrayal, from the bone-deep loneliness and the awful certainty that he will somehow be resurrected and forced to feel it all again. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see anything more.
Don’t look.
Friday, March 4, 2011
What's At Stake, Part Three
The room service waiter – a trim, vaguely Asian, middle-aged man this time – laid the meal out next to the two laptops on the table with a well-practiced efficiency, and slid back out of the room as quietly and unobtrusively as he had entered. Jonas raised a questioning eyebrow at the single place setting. "You're not eating?"
"I'll... dine later. Please, go ahead."
Pouring himself a scotch, Elijah sat at his computer and busied himself with updates to his database to give the warlock a chance to eat. The several hours of research he'd done on Mystic Falls had provided a wealth of new information to collate. Names, photos, recent events and, in some cases, familial lineages had all been available online. How easy it all was. A few hours to discover what would have taken weeks, even months to glean only a few decades ago. He never failed to marvel at how readily information was available to anyone who cared to look. Ironic that, in this day and age when knowledge and learning were but a few clicks away, fewer and fewer people undertook intellectual pursuits.
Had he been free to choose his own path, all of those centuries ago, he would have dedicated his life to scholarship and learning. A monastic setting maybe, or perhaps he would have made his way south and east to Byzantium, where scholarship and invention thrived even as Europe was plunged into the Dark Ages. But his father, and circumstance, had dictated otherwise. In any case, he had all the time now to learn whatever he wished. All the time.
Having made quick work of his meal, Jonas left the tray by the door and poured a scotch for himself. "Okay. Let's hear it."
Elijah closed the document and slid the laptop over to focus on the warlock. "What would you say if I were to tell you that we could control not only when Klaus will attempt to break the curse, but also lure him to a place of our choosing to do so?"
Jonas rocked back, running a hand down over his face and puffing out a breath as he took that in. "I... He's not... You... How?"
"By having something he wants and needs."
The warlock's brows drew together as he considered the possibilities. "You found the moonstone?"
"I know its whereabouts. It is apparently squirreled away in a tomb underneath the wreckage of a church in Mystic Falls." Elijah sipped his drink and waited for Jonas to make the connection.
"Katherine Pierce. That's where she was burned in 1864. She was the last to have it?"
"Apparently she still does. Katherine is also in the tomb. Trapped there by a witch's spell."
"So... you want to use Katherine and the moonstone to lure Klaus here." Jonas got up and stalked to the windows, fingers laced atop his head. "Won't he just take them and go? Having the moonstone in his hand is no guarantee of anything, not without a doppelganger. He'll still need his witches to figure out the spell-work." Pacing between the windows and door, Jonas shook his head. "It's too risky. He'll have the stone and still have them."
"Oh. Did I fail to mention that we also have a doppelganger?" Elijah sat back and crossed his legs with a self-satisfied smile.
Jonas stopped short and stared at him, making a few abortive attempts at speech before he managed, "A Petrova doppelganger? You're certain? I thought the Petrova line had ended."
"As did I. Evidently we were both in error." Pulling his laptop in front of him, he gestured toward the chair. "Please, sit."
As Jonas took his seat, Elijah pulled up the local news photos from a 'Miss Mystic Falls' pageant. He pointed to one of the photos and enlarged it. "This girl, here. Elena Gilbert." She looked very glamorous and grown-up in the photo, far different from the frightened and bloodied girl he'd seen the day before. More like Katerina.
"You're sure this isn't Katherine Pierce, playing at being human?"
"I saw her yesterday. She's human. I'm certain."
"Yesterday? Where is she now?" Jonas glanced around, though it was obvious that the girl wasn't there.
"Back at her home in Mystic Falls, I presume."
The warlock gaped at him. "You didn't secure her?! She could be halfway to anywhere by now!"
"There were... complications."
Jonas resumed his pacing. "You should have taken her. If you really want to draw Klaus out, we need her in hand, and now she's forewarned that someone is coming after her. That wasn't smart."
When Jonas completed his circuit to the window and turned back toward the door, Elijah was mere inches from him. Jonas stopped short to keep from running into the vampire. "Are you questioning me?" he asked, his voice low and deceptively soft.
He was pleased to see the warlock stumble back a step, the muscles in his throat working.
"No, no. It's just... we couldn't possibly have a better opportunity." He lifted his hands in apology. "Sorry. I... just want my daughter back. That's all."
Elijah let it go at that. Returning to the table, he tapped some keys and brought up a photo of Mystic Falls High School. "Elena is a student at this school. In looking through some of the photos of events, I noted this girl, the one next to the float. Her name is Bonnie Bennett. Does that name bear any meaning to you?"
Jonas studied the photo, then pulled his laptop over and opened a spreadsheet. "There were a line of Bennett witches in the group that migrated south from Salem. It's possible she's a descendant."
"I'd like for you and Luka to relocate to Mystic Falls. He's the same age as these girls. He can fit in, get close to them, perhaps learn if Ms. Bennett possesses the Gift."
The warlock looked dubious, and a little torn. "I'm not sure I want Luka involved in this."
"The boy need not do anything other than make friends at his new school. Surely there's no harm in that?" Jonas's eyebrows spoke volumes regarding what he thought about that. "We need someone close to the girls, someone whose presence won't arouse suspicions."
"I take it she doesn't know who or what you are? Because if she has any idea I can't imagine she's just hanging at home and going to school."
"She has no reason to be worried. She thinks me dead."
"Um... why does she think you're dead?"
"Because when last she saw me, I was."
Jonas leaned back and folded his arms in front of him. "What exactly happened yesterday?"
"I was called to meet with a couple of vampires on another matter. They wished to trade the girl for their release from an old debt. I did have thoughts of leaving with her yesterday, but as I said, there were complications." Elijah pulled up another photo, this one from an old newspaper from the '50's. Turning the screen toward Jonas, he pointed out a grainy figure in the background of the shot. "Stefan Salvatore. One of two brothers turned by Katerina in 1864."
"I don't follow."
"These Salvatore brothers rode to the girl's rescue before I could leave with her yesterday. The other brother killed me." He shook his head at Jonas's raised eyebrow. "He got lucky. The point is, they have no reason to expect they'll see me again. We still have the element of surprise."
Jonas sat and mulled it over for a few minutes. Leaving him to his thoughts, Elijah crossed to the desk and called Philip. "Results?" he said simply, when Philip answered.
"Emailing the data now. You would not believe the crap I had to bust through to get all this. There was this one firewall – "
"Thank you." Ending the call, he returned to the table and opened the message. The results were encouraging. Most of the connections stopped up the chain at him. There were only a couple of lose ends that needed tying. Closing the laptop, he looked at Jonas expectantly.
"Okay. We'll make the move," he assented.
"Good." Elijah smiled at him, pleased. As if there had been any doubt.
"I'll... dine later. Please, go ahead."
Pouring himself a scotch, Elijah sat at his computer and busied himself with updates to his database to give the warlock a chance to eat. The several hours of research he'd done on Mystic Falls had provided a wealth of new information to collate. Names, photos, recent events and, in some cases, familial lineages had all been available online. How easy it all was. A few hours to discover what would have taken weeks, even months to glean only a few decades ago. He never failed to marvel at how readily information was available to anyone who cared to look. Ironic that, in this day and age when knowledge and learning were but a few clicks away, fewer and fewer people undertook intellectual pursuits.
Had he been free to choose his own path, all of those centuries ago, he would have dedicated his life to scholarship and learning. A monastic setting maybe, or perhaps he would have made his way south and east to Byzantium, where scholarship and invention thrived even as Europe was plunged into the Dark Ages. But his father, and circumstance, had dictated otherwise. In any case, he had all the time now to learn whatever he wished. All the time.
Having made quick work of his meal, Jonas left the tray by the door and poured a scotch for himself. "Okay. Let's hear it."
Elijah closed the document and slid the laptop over to focus on the warlock. "What would you say if I were to tell you that we could control not only when Klaus will attempt to break the curse, but also lure him to a place of our choosing to do so?"
Jonas rocked back, running a hand down over his face and puffing out a breath as he took that in. "I... He's not... You... How?"
"By having something he wants and needs."
The warlock's brows drew together as he considered the possibilities. "You found the moonstone?"
"I know its whereabouts. It is apparently squirreled away in a tomb underneath the wreckage of a church in Mystic Falls." Elijah sipped his drink and waited for Jonas to make the connection.
"Katherine Pierce. That's where she was burned in 1864. She was the last to have it?"
"Apparently she still does. Katherine is also in the tomb. Trapped there by a witch's spell."
"So... you want to use Katherine and the moonstone to lure Klaus here." Jonas got up and stalked to the windows, fingers laced atop his head. "Won't he just take them and go? Having the moonstone in his hand is no guarantee of anything, not without a doppelganger. He'll still need his witches to figure out the spell-work." Pacing between the windows and door, Jonas shook his head. "It's too risky. He'll have the stone and still have them."
"Oh. Did I fail to mention that we also have a doppelganger?" Elijah sat back and crossed his legs with a self-satisfied smile.
Jonas stopped short and stared at him, making a few abortive attempts at speech before he managed, "A Petrova doppelganger? You're certain? I thought the Petrova line had ended."
"As did I. Evidently we were both in error." Pulling his laptop in front of him, he gestured toward the chair. "Please, sit."
As Jonas took his seat, Elijah pulled up the local news photos from a 'Miss Mystic Falls' pageant. He pointed to one of the photos and enlarged it. "This girl, here. Elena Gilbert." She looked very glamorous and grown-up in the photo, far different from the frightened and bloodied girl he'd seen the day before. More like Katerina.
"You're sure this isn't Katherine Pierce, playing at being human?"
"I saw her yesterday. She's human. I'm certain."
"Yesterday? Where is she now?" Jonas glanced around, though it was obvious that the girl wasn't there.
"Back at her home in Mystic Falls, I presume."
The warlock gaped at him. "You didn't secure her?! She could be halfway to anywhere by now!"
"There were... complications."
Jonas resumed his pacing. "You should have taken her. If you really want to draw Klaus out, we need her in hand, and now she's forewarned that someone is coming after her. That wasn't smart."
When Jonas completed his circuit to the window and turned back toward the door, Elijah was mere inches from him. Jonas stopped short to keep from running into the vampire. "Are you questioning me?" he asked, his voice low and deceptively soft.
He was pleased to see the warlock stumble back a step, the muscles in his throat working.
"No, no. It's just... we couldn't possibly have a better opportunity." He lifted his hands in apology. "Sorry. I... just want my daughter back. That's all."
Elijah let it go at that. Returning to the table, he tapped some keys and brought up a photo of Mystic Falls High School. "Elena is a student at this school. In looking through some of the photos of events, I noted this girl, the one next to the float. Her name is Bonnie Bennett. Does that name bear any meaning to you?"
Jonas studied the photo, then pulled his laptop over and opened a spreadsheet. "There were a line of Bennett witches in the group that migrated south from Salem. It's possible she's a descendant."
"I'd like for you and Luka to relocate to Mystic Falls. He's the same age as these girls. He can fit in, get close to them, perhaps learn if Ms. Bennett possesses the Gift."
The warlock looked dubious, and a little torn. "I'm not sure I want Luka involved in this."
"The boy need not do anything other than make friends at his new school. Surely there's no harm in that?" Jonas's eyebrows spoke volumes regarding what he thought about that. "We need someone close to the girls, someone whose presence won't arouse suspicions."
"I take it she doesn't know who or what you are? Because if she has any idea I can't imagine she's just hanging at home and going to school."
"She has no reason to be worried. She thinks me dead."
"Um... why does she think you're dead?"
"Because when last she saw me, I was."
Jonas leaned back and folded his arms in front of him. "What exactly happened yesterday?"
"I was called to meet with a couple of vampires on another matter. They wished to trade the girl for their release from an old debt. I did have thoughts of leaving with her yesterday, but as I said, there were complications." Elijah pulled up another photo, this one from an old newspaper from the '50's. Turning the screen toward Jonas, he pointed out a grainy figure in the background of the shot. "Stefan Salvatore. One of two brothers turned by Katerina in 1864."
"I don't follow."
"These Salvatore brothers rode to the girl's rescue before I could leave with her yesterday. The other brother killed me." He shook his head at Jonas's raised eyebrow. "He got lucky. The point is, they have no reason to expect they'll see me again. We still have the element of surprise."
Jonas sat and mulled it over for a few minutes. Leaving him to his thoughts, Elijah crossed to the desk and called Philip. "Results?" he said simply, when Philip answered.
"Emailing the data now. You would not believe the crap I had to bust through to get all this. There was this one firewall – "
"Thank you." Ending the call, he returned to the table and opened the message. The results were encouraging. Most of the connections stopped up the chain at him. There were only a couple of lose ends that needed tying. Closing the laptop, he looked at Jonas expectantly.
"Okay. We'll make the move," he assented.
"Good." Elijah smiled at him, pleased. As if there had been any doubt.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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.
*****************************************************
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.
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.
*****************************************************
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.
What's At Stake, Part One
DISCLAIMER: This is a fanfic for The Vampire Diaries television show. I haven't read the books and have no idea what's in them. I don't own any of these characters, no money is changing hands, nothing to see here, people.
This first section of the story includes the Elijah scenes from episode 2-8, "Rose". I've added the dialogue verbatim here; I don't plan to rehash scenes in subsequent sections of the story, but wanted to get into Elijah's mindset here in his debut.
Constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoy it.
**********************************************
WHAT'S AT STAKE
Elijah slid the cell phone back into his breast pocket and rose from the desk. Stepping across the rich Oriental carpet, he opened the French doors and walked out onto the balcony overlooking Central Park. At a quarter past 3:00 a.m., the traffic below the Manhattan penthouse had slowed to an anemic trickle, brake lights leaving the occasional crimson smear on rain-dampened streets that ran like veins through the city. Four floors below him, a television squawked out news on a 24-hour loop; seven floors down, the Wall Street trader rutted with his latest, silicone-enhanced mistress. Far below, under cover of the Park's foliage, a cry drifted up as one of the city's predators took its prey. It bothered him not – he was, after all, the city's apex predator.
So Rosemary and her craven partner wanted to meet, did they? He could imagine how the last five centuries had been for them. Never staying in any one place for long, never putting down roots or forming any lasting relationships for fear of the past they wanted desperately to outrun. The thought of them scrambling all over the globe, one eye always in the rearview mirror, amused him. Truth be told, he'd stopped caring one way or the other a couple of centuries ago. There were more pressing concerns to be dealt with than avenging himself on a couple of shiftless and scared-shitless minor vampires.
He had been sorely tempted to decline this request for a summit, save for one detail: its proposed location. A quick look on Google maps had shown the backwater locale to be just a few hours south of the town of Mystic Falls, one of the last known whereabouts of Katerina Petrova. If Trevor and Rosemary had suddenly found the fortitude to contact him, they must either have Katerina, or at the least some knowledge of her current location.
Elijah glanced down at his Rolex. If he left now, while the traffic was light, he could be in North Carolina by early afternoon. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he redialed his contact. "Tell them I'll be there tomorrow," he said, without preamble. Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call and dialed the concierge downstairs to have his car brought around.
*****
It was close to 2:00 p.m. when the Lexus crunched down the gravel driveway at the address he'd been given. The house, once a modest mansion, stood aged and decrepit in the harsh afternoon light. Several windows were boarded up; some from the outside, some from within, indicating to Elijah the rooms most likely inhabited by the two sun-fearing vampires. He rubbed absently at the ring on his left hand that rendered such issues moot for him. Only one vehicle, an older SUV, sat in the driveway alongside his Lexus. Scanning the perimeter, Elijah noted no disturbance in the dust and the overgrowth around the property which might indicate that an ambush was imminent. He highly doubted any other vampire would put him or herself in league with these two, not against him.
Elijah exited the vehicle and climbed the front steps with an air of complete nonchalance. At his knock, he could hear them scurrying around inside like the rats that inhabited other parts of the old building. Appropriate that they sheltered here amongst the other vermin. Though perhaps he was being uncharitable toward the girl. She had only done as her sire had bid her, after all.
As Trevor should have done his bidding.
Rather than wait, Elijah pushed the door open and surveyed the scene before him. The vestibule displayed the same signs of age and decay as the exterior of the house. Mold and mildew clung to the ceiling and crept down the walls. Dust moved in lazy swirls, disturbed by the opening of the door and the rush of warm air from the outside. Several lights were lit, though some of the fixtures hung from the walls at drunken angles; one chandelier cast its light from the floor rather than the ceiling, leaning as though dazed and confused as to how it should have come to be there.
After a few moments, Rosemary crept into view. Her hair and clothes were trendy, inexpensive and informal, in sharp contrast to his $4,000 black-on-black suit, just as her nervous, fidgety energy differed wildly from his calm, calculated manner.
Elijah spoke first. "Rosemary. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
She sighed, but didn't relax. "Yes, in here. You'll have to forgive the house," she said, gesturing to a room on the left.
He allowed a patronizing smile. "Oh no, what's a little dirt? I completely understand." Elijah closed the door behind him to once again shut out the sunlight, and strolled into the room she had indicated. "So tell me, what is it that gives you the courage to call me?"
"I want my freedom. I'm tired of running. Are you in a position to grant me that?"
"I have complete authority to grant pardon to you and your little pet. What is his name these days, Trevor? If I so see fit." Pardon her for himself, anyway. They were on their own with Klaus. But he needn't tell her that.
"Katerina Petrova?"
Elijah smiled inwardly. Just as he had suspected. He turned to face her. "I'm listening."
"She didn't burn in the church in 1864." Rose announced this as though it were some great news.
Spotting a serviceable if dusty chair, Elijah sat and crossed his legs with an attitude of bored indulgence. "Continue."
"She survived."
He waited for more, but she seemed disinclined to speak without prompting. "Where is she?"
"You don't seem surprised by this," Rose said, looking down at him.
Apparently he needed to state the obvious. "When you called and invited me into this armpit of civilization, which is a mere three hours from the town we know as Mystic Falls, I surmised it had everything to do with Katerina. Do you have her in your possession?" he asked, as though he cared not what the answer was.
"No. I have better. I have a doppelganger," she announced.
Lovely, he scoffed to himself. A wild goose chase after all. "That's impossible. Her family line ended with her. I know that for a fact."
"Then the facts are wrong." She was looking less frightened and more triumphant. That wouldn't do.
"Well show her to me," he challenged.
"Elijah, you're a man of honor. You can be trusted, but I want to hear you say it again."
Elijah narrowed his eyes at her. "You have my word that I will pardon you." And how nice that English doesn't differentiate between the singular and plural.
"Follow me." Rose turned and walked out of the room.
Elijah waited a beat and then rose to follow her. Surely they weren't stupid enough to lure him in with this tale and then try to kill him. It would be tantamount to suicide. Down the corridor, past the fallen chandelier, up some stairs... Rose halted on a balcony to the great room. Looking down, he noted Trevor standing rigid on the periphery, but his attention went immediately to the girl.
My God, he thought. This can't be. He sped down the stairs and halted in front of her. That same face, those same dark eyes looked up at him, terror plain in them and in the rigid lines of her body. Her heart was beating so hard he half expected it to take wing and fly out of her chest altogether. Lowering his head, he scented her breath, smelled the blood hammering frantically just under her skin, and rocked back, inwardly reeling. "Human," he breathed. "It's impossible."
Elijah gazed down at her again, at the face that had last been worn by Katerina Petrova. But though the features were the same, what lurked beneath felt different. This girl was clearly petrified. With Katerina, even when she was terrified of him – and she had been terrified – there had been a cold calculation just under the surface, a constant cold weighing of the pros here and the cons there. He smiled, and his voice was softly nostalgic. "Hello there."
He'd uttered those same words to Katerina, when he'd caught up to her the first time she had run.
*****
The small tavern in the north of England was a-bustle with the recent influx of soldiers. Unrest amongst the region's peasants and noblemen alike had brought a number of the King's troops to the vicinity. They were garrisoned nearby, ostensibly to keep the peace. But after weeks on end with no actual fighting, the men were getting restless; soldiers not stimulated on the battlefield were bound to seek entertainment in the barrooms and brothels instead, and they had flocked to this place to stave off the boredom.
The smell of so many unwashed bodies in such close proximity to one another, combined with the scents of roasting meats and the pervasive acridity of smoke from the fireplace, made it well nigh impossible to ferret out any one single scent from the cacophony of odors. Fortunately, Elijah had tracked his quarry here two days ago and had merely been waiting for the rest of the party to catch up to him. Katerina Petrova had led a merry chase since she'd fled Klaus's estate under cover of the midday sun. She'd timed it perfectly, he'd give her that. Only a very few of Klaus's inner circle had been gifted with rings that allowed them to walk in daylight; even had the guards suspected that Katerina was hidden beneath the goods in the vendor's cart, most would have been unequipped to remove her from the wagon where it sat in the sun-drenched courtyard.
As it was, her disappearance had gone unremarked until the next morning, giving the woman almost a full day's head start. Rather than wait for nightfall, Elijah had set out at Klaus's behest in advance of the search party to return his errant concubine/sacrificial lamb to him. Once he'd tracked her to this tavern, he'd hidden in wait. Now that the rest of the men had arrived, he was ready to go in and retrieve her.
After positioning his men at the exits and windows, Elijah pushed his way through the crowd toward the kitchens, one sharp glance enough to discourage any who might have barred his way. He ignored the clucking of the innkeeper's wife where she stood at the big oven and pushed the door to the back room open.
She was in there. He could smell her just fine now. Nowhere to be seen, but he had no doubt that she was hidden behind one of the sacks of grain or barrels of mead stacked around the room. Fear carried with it its own scent, and he inhaled deeply of its pungent sweetness. Ah. There, in a little nook behind that crate of potatoes. Quiet as the grave, he crossed the room and, reaching into the crevice, grabbed a handful of her hair.
Katerina yelped as he pulled her from her hiding spot to stand before him. The days of flight and her service in the scullery had not been kind to her. The serving wench's clothes she wore were dirty and ill-fitting; Elijah had grown accustomed to seeing her in the gowns and jewels Klaus lavished upon her, and though she was still beautiful, its effects were somewhat diminished by her present circumstances. Her eyes, smudged dark underneath, widened in fear when she saw who held her.
"Hello there," he purred, as though they met as dancers on the ballroom floor and not as captor and captive in a dingy storeroom.
"Please, I beg of you, do not take me back to him!" Dark eyes beseeched him, tears welling and threatening to spill over. "Let me go, please. Have mercy!"
"And tell Klaus that I was unsuccessful in locating you? I think not. Come." He pushed her in front of him, toward the door.
Katerina dug her heels into the dirt floor and threw her weight back against him. "No! Please! I'll offer anything you want, just don't take me back to Klaus."
Amused, Elijah slowed his progress toward the door, considering. "And just what, pray tell, do you think you can offer? You have nothing with which to bargain."
She turned and faced him, and through her tears he saw the quick calculation behind those dark eyes. "I know where Klaus keeps the moonstone. I can tell you where it is."
"Why would I need the moonstone? It is Klaus who will undo the curse, to all of our benefit. I needn't know its whereabouts. And without a doppelganger, it would be rather useless, after all." Elijah took a firm hold on her arm and turned her once more toward the door.
Once more she dug her heels in. "If you knew, you could take it. You could prevent him from breaking the curse."
He halted his progess again. "And why would I wish to do that?"
Katerina twisted back around. "What need have you to break it? You already walk in the sunlight, as so few of your kind can." She tilted her head and met his eyes with a sidelong gaze. "It gives you power over the others. Makes you almost a god amongst them. Why should you wish to surrender such an advantage? If you allow Klaus to break the curse, imagine the adulation he'll garner. The chasm between his power base and that of the other Originals will widen so that it may never be breached."
Elijah allowed no reaction to show, but damn if she didn't strike straight to the heart of a weakness. "You make it sound as though we don't all share the same purpose."
"I've watched you, Elijah. You serve Klaus, but you are not subservient to him." Gaining confidence as she spoke, she lay her hands on his forearms, leaned into him conspiratorially. "It chafes, doesn't it? Watching them all jump to do his bidding?"
"He is the first among us, and the most powerful. There is a reason so many owe their allegiance to him."
"Because they are offered no viable alternative. You could be that alternative. They could serve you." Her face took on the coquettishness she'd employed to such good effect at Klaus's court. She trailed her fingers up his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest. "Taking me from Klaus would be a great coup for you, Elijah." Katerina draped herself against him, face tilted up invitingly, her meaning perfectly clear. "So take me."
Elijah regarded her for the space of a few heartbeats, then laughed deeply, genuinely amused. He'd been wondering when she'd get around to the predictable. "Katerina, you overplay your hand. Klaus's position is well secured, and your whore's charms move me not at all." He gripped her arm and, turning her roughly, propelled her inexorably toward the door. "It has been centuries since I could be led about by my cock."
There would have been no further incident, save for one fatal error on his part: When they stopped to shelter just before dawn, Elijah made the mistake of leaving Katerina in the care of a man who could be so led.
*****
Elijah looked away from the girl and eyed that man, standing now before him. "We have a long journey ahead of us," he told her. "We should be going."
The girl struggled against the grip he had on her arm. She called over his shoulder, to Rose, "Please, don't let him take me!"
"One last piece of business. Then we're done." Elijah loosed his hold on the girl's arm and turned toward Trevor.
Trevor stood rigid, eyes downcast. "I've waited so long for this day, Elijah. I'm truly very sorry."
"Oh no, your apology's not necessary," he demured, stalking in a slow circle around the younger vampire.
"Yes. Yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina, and I failed you."
"Well yes, you are the guilty one." Elijah came full circle and stood facing Trevor. "Rose aided you because she was loyal to you. That I honor." Dropping the pretense of civility, he lowered his voice and gave Trevor a hard stare. "Where was your loyalty?"
"I beg your forgiveness," Trevor entreated him, eyes still glued to the floor.
Elijah nodded almost imperceptibly. "So granted." He let a brief moment pass, let a brief flare of hope light the younger man's eyes. On the next beat, he drew back his hand and slapped Trevor's head off, sending a geyser of blood shooting into the air.
Rose screamed as the body crumpled to the floor, the head rolling a few feet away from it. "You! – " she began.
"Don't, Rose, now that you're free," he advised. Leaving her sobbing on the stairs, he wiped Trevor's blood on his pant leg and extended it to the girl. "Come."
She backed away from him, eyes a little wild. "What about the moonstone?" she gulped out.
"What do you know about the moonstone?"
"I know that you need it, and I know where it is."
"Yes?" he prompted.
"I can help you get it," she offered.
Elijah raised an eyebrow at the girl, wondering if she truly knew anything or if this was all some tactic to stall for time. "Tell me where it is."
The girl shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."
He blinked a couple of times in disbelief. The sense of deja vue was overwhelming. Was this... this slip of a girl really trying to bargain with him? Perhaps his first impression of her had been in error. He'd thought her weaker than Katerina, but perhaps some of that Petrova fire burned in her after all. "Are you negotiating with me?" he asked, shooting an incredulous look over at Rose.
"It's the first I've heard of it," Rose answered.
He turned back to the girl and caught her eyes. Or tried to; he could feel her resisting him. His gaze drew down to her necklace. It was of the right size and shape, and a surreptitious sniff confirmed it. "What is this vervain doing around your neck?" he asked, the question rhetorical. Grabbing the pendant, he snapped the chain and tossed it away from her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, as he'd done to Katerina all those years ago, and this time he captured her eyes with his. "Tell me where the moonstone is."
She submitted readily. "In the tomb underneath the church."
"What is it doing there?" he asked.
"It's with Katherine."
"Interesting," was all he said aloud, but inside his mind was reeling. My god! Not only a living, human doppelganger, but Katerina AND the moonstone as well. And to think, he hadn't even wanted to make the trip. His mind started considering the myriad possibilities this sudden embarrassment of riches opened up to him, only to be brought back to the present by the breaking of glass.
"What is that?" he asked, releasing the girl's gaze as he looked around.
"I don't know," Rose said, fearful.
"Who else is in this house?"
"I don't know!"
Grabbing the girl by the arm, he ordered her, "Move!" and headed to the stairs as a blurry form zipped past him. He shoved the girl toward Rose when a second form shot by. "Rose?"
Rose's voice showed the first ragged edges of panic. "I don't know who it is."
A voice drifted down from upstairs. "Up here."
Elijah flew up the stairs, only to hear a second voice call, "Down here." He turned toward it. Instinct alerted him to the whizzing sound of a projectile and he turned so that the stake, when it came, went through his left hand.
He pulled it out and tossed it down over the banister. "Excuse me. To whom it may concern," he called out, "you're making a grave mistake if you think that you can beat me. You can't. Do you hear that?" Seizing a nearby coat rack, he broke it off of its base. "I repeat, you cannot beat me." Snapping the hooks off of the rack, he continued, "I want the girl, on the count of three, or heads will roll." Had he not just amply demonstrated his ability to make that happen? Elijah broke the post again for a sharper point. "Do we understand each other?"
The girl, who had disappeared from site while he was trying to trace his quarry, appeared on the landing, arms crossed in front of her in a defensive posture. "I'll come with you. Just... please don't hurt my friends. They just wanted to help me out."
Elijah started up the stairs again, stopping halfway to consider the girl before him. Acquaintance with her forebear had taught him nothing if not caution. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What game are you playing with me?"
He saw her pull something out of one hand, and she loosed a projectile of some sort that shattered before it could impact him. Shards of glass and a spray of vervain hit his face full-on. He yelled as it seared his eyes and flesh, but the pain was fleeting as the wounds healed almost as soon as they appeared. Gritting his teeth, he advanced on her.
A shotgun sounded above him and a wooden bullet pierced his chest, the first in a hail of them. Grimly, he continued to advance even as the young man shot seven more bullets into him. With the gun empty, he launched himself at Elijah, sending them both hurtling down the stairs. Elijah was upright again almost immediately. Curling his fingers into a claw, he advanced with every intention of ripping the kid's heart from his body. In so doing, he left himself open.
His makeshift stake, discarded when the vervain hit him, pierced his heart as a second vampire went in for the kill. He stared, lust for the kill plain on his face, as he drove Elijah back against the door and pinned him there.
As his vision faded, he made it a point to memorize the face of the vampire who had killed him.
This first section of the story includes the Elijah scenes from episode 2-8, "Rose". I've added the dialogue verbatim here; I don't plan to rehash scenes in subsequent sections of the story, but wanted to get into Elijah's mindset here in his debut.
Constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoy it.
**********************************************
WHAT'S AT STAKE
Elijah slid the cell phone back into his breast pocket and rose from the desk. Stepping across the rich Oriental carpet, he opened the French doors and walked out onto the balcony overlooking Central Park. At a quarter past 3:00 a.m., the traffic below the Manhattan penthouse had slowed to an anemic trickle, brake lights leaving the occasional crimson smear on rain-dampened streets that ran like veins through the city. Four floors below him, a television squawked out news on a 24-hour loop; seven floors down, the Wall Street trader rutted with his latest, silicone-enhanced mistress. Far below, under cover of the Park's foliage, a cry drifted up as one of the city's predators took its prey. It bothered him not – he was, after all, the city's apex predator.
So Rosemary and her craven partner wanted to meet, did they? He could imagine how the last five centuries had been for them. Never staying in any one place for long, never putting down roots or forming any lasting relationships for fear of the past they wanted desperately to outrun. The thought of them scrambling all over the globe, one eye always in the rearview mirror, amused him. Truth be told, he'd stopped caring one way or the other a couple of centuries ago. There were more pressing concerns to be dealt with than avenging himself on a couple of shiftless and scared-shitless minor vampires.
He had been sorely tempted to decline this request for a summit, save for one detail: its proposed location. A quick look on Google maps had shown the backwater locale to be just a few hours south of the town of Mystic Falls, one of the last known whereabouts of Katerina Petrova. If Trevor and Rosemary had suddenly found the fortitude to contact him, they must either have Katerina, or at the least some knowledge of her current location.
Elijah glanced down at his Rolex. If he left now, while the traffic was light, he could be in North Carolina by early afternoon. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he redialed his contact. "Tell them I'll be there tomorrow," he said, without preamble. Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call and dialed the concierge downstairs to have his car brought around.
*****
It was close to 2:00 p.m. when the Lexus crunched down the gravel driveway at the address he'd been given. The house, once a modest mansion, stood aged and decrepit in the harsh afternoon light. Several windows were boarded up; some from the outside, some from within, indicating to Elijah the rooms most likely inhabited by the two sun-fearing vampires. He rubbed absently at the ring on his left hand that rendered such issues moot for him. Only one vehicle, an older SUV, sat in the driveway alongside his Lexus. Scanning the perimeter, Elijah noted no disturbance in the dust and the overgrowth around the property which might indicate that an ambush was imminent. He highly doubted any other vampire would put him or herself in league with these two, not against him.
Elijah exited the vehicle and climbed the front steps with an air of complete nonchalance. At his knock, he could hear them scurrying around inside like the rats that inhabited other parts of the old building. Appropriate that they sheltered here amongst the other vermin. Though perhaps he was being uncharitable toward the girl. She had only done as her sire had bid her, after all.
As Trevor should have done his bidding.
Rather than wait, Elijah pushed the door open and surveyed the scene before him. The vestibule displayed the same signs of age and decay as the exterior of the house. Mold and mildew clung to the ceiling and crept down the walls. Dust moved in lazy swirls, disturbed by the opening of the door and the rush of warm air from the outside. Several lights were lit, though some of the fixtures hung from the walls at drunken angles; one chandelier cast its light from the floor rather than the ceiling, leaning as though dazed and confused as to how it should have come to be there.
After a few moments, Rosemary crept into view. Her hair and clothes were trendy, inexpensive and informal, in sharp contrast to his $4,000 black-on-black suit, just as her nervous, fidgety energy differed wildly from his calm, calculated manner.
Elijah spoke first. "Rosemary. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
She sighed, but didn't relax. "Yes, in here. You'll have to forgive the house," she said, gesturing to a room on the left.
He allowed a patronizing smile. "Oh no, what's a little dirt? I completely understand." Elijah closed the door behind him to once again shut out the sunlight, and strolled into the room she had indicated. "So tell me, what is it that gives you the courage to call me?"
"I want my freedom. I'm tired of running. Are you in a position to grant me that?"
"I have complete authority to grant pardon to you and your little pet. What is his name these days, Trevor? If I so see fit." Pardon her for himself, anyway. They were on their own with Klaus. But he needn't tell her that.
"Katerina Petrova?"
Elijah smiled inwardly. Just as he had suspected. He turned to face her. "I'm listening."
"She didn't burn in the church in 1864." Rose announced this as though it were some great news.
Spotting a serviceable if dusty chair, Elijah sat and crossed his legs with an attitude of bored indulgence. "Continue."
"She survived."
He waited for more, but she seemed disinclined to speak without prompting. "Where is she?"
"You don't seem surprised by this," Rose said, looking down at him.
Apparently he needed to state the obvious. "When you called and invited me into this armpit of civilization, which is a mere three hours from the town we know as Mystic Falls, I surmised it had everything to do with Katerina. Do you have her in your possession?" he asked, as though he cared not what the answer was.
"No. I have better. I have a doppelganger," she announced.
Lovely, he scoffed to himself. A wild goose chase after all. "That's impossible. Her family line ended with her. I know that for a fact."
"Then the facts are wrong." She was looking less frightened and more triumphant. That wouldn't do.
"Well show her to me," he challenged.
"Elijah, you're a man of honor. You can be trusted, but I want to hear you say it again."
Elijah narrowed his eyes at her. "You have my word that I will pardon you." And how nice that English doesn't differentiate between the singular and plural.
"Follow me." Rose turned and walked out of the room.
Elijah waited a beat and then rose to follow her. Surely they weren't stupid enough to lure him in with this tale and then try to kill him. It would be tantamount to suicide. Down the corridor, past the fallen chandelier, up some stairs... Rose halted on a balcony to the great room. Looking down, he noted Trevor standing rigid on the periphery, but his attention went immediately to the girl.
My God, he thought. This can't be. He sped down the stairs and halted in front of her. That same face, those same dark eyes looked up at him, terror plain in them and in the rigid lines of her body. Her heart was beating so hard he half expected it to take wing and fly out of her chest altogether. Lowering his head, he scented her breath, smelled the blood hammering frantically just under her skin, and rocked back, inwardly reeling. "Human," he breathed. "It's impossible."
Elijah gazed down at her again, at the face that had last been worn by Katerina Petrova. But though the features were the same, what lurked beneath felt different. This girl was clearly petrified. With Katerina, even when she was terrified of him – and she had been terrified – there had been a cold calculation just under the surface, a constant cold weighing of the pros here and the cons there. He smiled, and his voice was softly nostalgic. "Hello there."
He'd uttered those same words to Katerina, when he'd caught up to her the first time she had run.
*****
The small tavern in the north of England was a-bustle with the recent influx of soldiers. Unrest amongst the region's peasants and noblemen alike had brought a number of the King's troops to the vicinity. They were garrisoned nearby, ostensibly to keep the peace. But after weeks on end with no actual fighting, the men were getting restless; soldiers not stimulated on the battlefield were bound to seek entertainment in the barrooms and brothels instead, and they had flocked to this place to stave off the boredom.
The smell of so many unwashed bodies in such close proximity to one another, combined with the scents of roasting meats and the pervasive acridity of smoke from the fireplace, made it well nigh impossible to ferret out any one single scent from the cacophony of odors. Fortunately, Elijah had tracked his quarry here two days ago and had merely been waiting for the rest of the party to catch up to him. Katerina Petrova had led a merry chase since she'd fled Klaus's estate under cover of the midday sun. She'd timed it perfectly, he'd give her that. Only a very few of Klaus's inner circle had been gifted with rings that allowed them to walk in daylight; even had the guards suspected that Katerina was hidden beneath the goods in the vendor's cart, most would have been unequipped to remove her from the wagon where it sat in the sun-drenched courtyard.
As it was, her disappearance had gone unremarked until the next morning, giving the woman almost a full day's head start. Rather than wait for nightfall, Elijah had set out at Klaus's behest in advance of the search party to return his errant concubine/sacrificial lamb to him. Once he'd tracked her to this tavern, he'd hidden in wait. Now that the rest of the men had arrived, he was ready to go in and retrieve her.
After positioning his men at the exits and windows, Elijah pushed his way through the crowd toward the kitchens, one sharp glance enough to discourage any who might have barred his way. He ignored the clucking of the innkeeper's wife where she stood at the big oven and pushed the door to the back room open.
She was in there. He could smell her just fine now. Nowhere to be seen, but he had no doubt that she was hidden behind one of the sacks of grain or barrels of mead stacked around the room. Fear carried with it its own scent, and he inhaled deeply of its pungent sweetness. Ah. There, in a little nook behind that crate of potatoes. Quiet as the grave, he crossed the room and, reaching into the crevice, grabbed a handful of her hair.
Katerina yelped as he pulled her from her hiding spot to stand before him. The days of flight and her service in the scullery had not been kind to her. The serving wench's clothes she wore were dirty and ill-fitting; Elijah had grown accustomed to seeing her in the gowns and jewels Klaus lavished upon her, and though she was still beautiful, its effects were somewhat diminished by her present circumstances. Her eyes, smudged dark underneath, widened in fear when she saw who held her.
"Hello there," he purred, as though they met as dancers on the ballroom floor and not as captor and captive in a dingy storeroom.
"Please, I beg of you, do not take me back to him!" Dark eyes beseeched him, tears welling and threatening to spill over. "Let me go, please. Have mercy!"
"And tell Klaus that I was unsuccessful in locating you? I think not. Come." He pushed her in front of him, toward the door.
Katerina dug her heels into the dirt floor and threw her weight back against him. "No! Please! I'll offer anything you want, just don't take me back to Klaus."
Amused, Elijah slowed his progress toward the door, considering. "And just what, pray tell, do you think you can offer? You have nothing with which to bargain."
She turned and faced him, and through her tears he saw the quick calculation behind those dark eyes. "I know where Klaus keeps the moonstone. I can tell you where it is."
"Why would I need the moonstone? It is Klaus who will undo the curse, to all of our benefit. I needn't know its whereabouts. And without a doppelganger, it would be rather useless, after all." Elijah took a firm hold on her arm and turned her once more toward the door.
Once more she dug her heels in. "If you knew, you could take it. You could prevent him from breaking the curse."
He halted his progess again. "And why would I wish to do that?"
Katerina twisted back around. "What need have you to break it? You already walk in the sunlight, as so few of your kind can." She tilted her head and met his eyes with a sidelong gaze. "It gives you power over the others. Makes you almost a god amongst them. Why should you wish to surrender such an advantage? If you allow Klaus to break the curse, imagine the adulation he'll garner. The chasm between his power base and that of the other Originals will widen so that it may never be breached."
Elijah allowed no reaction to show, but damn if she didn't strike straight to the heart of a weakness. "You make it sound as though we don't all share the same purpose."
"I've watched you, Elijah. You serve Klaus, but you are not subservient to him." Gaining confidence as she spoke, she lay her hands on his forearms, leaned into him conspiratorially. "It chafes, doesn't it? Watching them all jump to do his bidding?"
"He is the first among us, and the most powerful. There is a reason so many owe their allegiance to him."
"Because they are offered no viable alternative. You could be that alternative. They could serve you." Her face took on the coquettishness she'd employed to such good effect at Klaus's court. She trailed her fingers up his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest. "Taking me from Klaus would be a great coup for you, Elijah." Katerina draped herself against him, face tilted up invitingly, her meaning perfectly clear. "So take me."
Elijah regarded her for the space of a few heartbeats, then laughed deeply, genuinely amused. He'd been wondering when she'd get around to the predictable. "Katerina, you overplay your hand. Klaus's position is well secured, and your whore's charms move me not at all." He gripped her arm and, turning her roughly, propelled her inexorably toward the door. "It has been centuries since I could be led about by my cock."
There would have been no further incident, save for one fatal error on his part: When they stopped to shelter just before dawn, Elijah made the mistake of leaving Katerina in the care of a man who could be so led.
*****
Elijah looked away from the girl and eyed that man, standing now before him. "We have a long journey ahead of us," he told her. "We should be going."
The girl struggled against the grip he had on her arm. She called over his shoulder, to Rose, "Please, don't let him take me!"
"One last piece of business. Then we're done." Elijah loosed his hold on the girl's arm and turned toward Trevor.
Trevor stood rigid, eyes downcast. "I've waited so long for this day, Elijah. I'm truly very sorry."
"Oh no, your apology's not necessary," he demured, stalking in a slow circle around the younger vampire.
"Yes. Yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina, and I failed you."
"Well yes, you are the guilty one." Elijah came full circle and stood facing Trevor. "Rose aided you because she was loyal to you. That I honor." Dropping the pretense of civility, he lowered his voice and gave Trevor a hard stare. "Where was your loyalty?"
"I beg your forgiveness," Trevor entreated him, eyes still glued to the floor.
Elijah nodded almost imperceptibly. "So granted." He let a brief moment pass, let a brief flare of hope light the younger man's eyes. On the next beat, he drew back his hand and slapped Trevor's head off, sending a geyser of blood shooting into the air.
Rose screamed as the body crumpled to the floor, the head rolling a few feet away from it. "You! – " she began.
"Don't, Rose, now that you're free," he advised. Leaving her sobbing on the stairs, he wiped Trevor's blood on his pant leg and extended it to the girl. "Come."
She backed away from him, eyes a little wild. "What about the moonstone?" she gulped out.
"What do you know about the moonstone?"
"I know that you need it, and I know where it is."
"Yes?" he prompted.
"I can help you get it," she offered.
Elijah raised an eyebrow at the girl, wondering if she truly knew anything or if this was all some tactic to stall for time. "Tell me where it is."
The girl shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."
He blinked a couple of times in disbelief. The sense of deja vue was overwhelming. Was this... this slip of a girl really trying to bargain with him? Perhaps his first impression of her had been in error. He'd thought her weaker than Katerina, but perhaps some of that Petrova fire burned in her after all. "Are you negotiating with me?" he asked, shooting an incredulous look over at Rose.
"It's the first I've heard of it," Rose answered.
He turned back to the girl and caught her eyes. Or tried to; he could feel her resisting him. His gaze drew down to her necklace. It was of the right size and shape, and a surreptitious sniff confirmed it. "What is this vervain doing around your neck?" he asked, the question rhetorical. Grabbing the pendant, he snapped the chain and tossed it away from her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, as he'd done to Katerina all those years ago, and this time he captured her eyes with his. "Tell me where the moonstone is."
She submitted readily. "In the tomb underneath the church."
"What is it doing there?" he asked.
"It's with Katherine."
"Interesting," was all he said aloud, but inside his mind was reeling. My god! Not only a living, human doppelganger, but Katerina AND the moonstone as well. And to think, he hadn't even wanted to make the trip. His mind started considering the myriad possibilities this sudden embarrassment of riches opened up to him, only to be brought back to the present by the breaking of glass.
"What is that?" he asked, releasing the girl's gaze as he looked around.
"I don't know," Rose said, fearful.
"Who else is in this house?"
"I don't know!"
Grabbing the girl by the arm, he ordered her, "Move!" and headed to the stairs as a blurry form zipped past him. He shoved the girl toward Rose when a second form shot by. "Rose?"
Rose's voice showed the first ragged edges of panic. "I don't know who it is."
A voice drifted down from upstairs. "Up here."
Elijah flew up the stairs, only to hear a second voice call, "Down here." He turned toward it. Instinct alerted him to the whizzing sound of a projectile and he turned so that the stake, when it came, went through his left hand.
He pulled it out and tossed it down over the banister. "Excuse me. To whom it may concern," he called out, "you're making a grave mistake if you think that you can beat me. You can't. Do you hear that?" Seizing a nearby coat rack, he broke it off of its base. "I repeat, you cannot beat me." Snapping the hooks off of the rack, he continued, "I want the girl, on the count of three, or heads will roll." Had he not just amply demonstrated his ability to make that happen? Elijah broke the post again for a sharper point. "Do we understand each other?"
The girl, who had disappeared from site while he was trying to trace his quarry, appeared on the landing, arms crossed in front of her in a defensive posture. "I'll come with you. Just... please don't hurt my friends. They just wanted to help me out."
Elijah started up the stairs again, stopping halfway to consider the girl before him. Acquaintance with her forebear had taught him nothing if not caution. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What game are you playing with me?"
He saw her pull something out of one hand, and she loosed a projectile of some sort that shattered before it could impact him. Shards of glass and a spray of vervain hit his face full-on. He yelled as it seared his eyes and flesh, but the pain was fleeting as the wounds healed almost as soon as they appeared. Gritting his teeth, he advanced on her.
A shotgun sounded above him and a wooden bullet pierced his chest, the first in a hail of them. Grimly, he continued to advance even as the young man shot seven more bullets into him. With the gun empty, he launched himself at Elijah, sending them both hurtling down the stairs. Elijah was upright again almost immediately. Curling his fingers into a claw, he advanced with every intention of ripping the kid's heart from his body. In so doing, he left himself open.
His makeshift stake, discarded when the vervain hit him, pierced his heart as a second vampire went in for the kill. He stared, lust for the kill plain on his face, as he drove Elijah back against the door and pinned him there.
As his vision faded, he made it a point to memorize the face of the vampire who had killed him.
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