Damon Salvatore had always liked New Orleans at night. The city pulsed with life in a way Mystic Falls never could—jazz spilling from open doors, the smell of crawfish and bourbon thick in the air, shadows long enough to hide just about anything. Tonight, though, it felt different. Sharper. Like the city itself was holding its breath after the Mikaelsons had reminded everyone who really ran things.
Katherine Pierce walked beside him, her arm looped through his, looking every bit the predator playing at being human. She wore a simple black dress that somehow made her look dangerous and irresistible at the same time. "You're thinking too loud," she said, smirking up at him. "Try enjoying the date, Damon. We earned this."
He grinned, pulling her closer as they strolled down Bourbon Street. "Fine. Normal couple stuff first. Dinner, drinks, maybe a little dancing. Then we make it fun."
They started simple. A small table at a crowded restaurant where the waiter kept staring at Katherine like she was the main course. Damon compelled him to bring the best bottle in the house and forget the bill. They ate slowly, feeding each other bites, laughing at how ridiculous it felt. For a few minutes, they almost passed for normal. Almost.
Later, they found a jazz club with a live band playing something slow and smoky. Katherine pulled him onto the dance floor, her body pressed against his as they moved. The music wrapped around them, and for a while it was just the two of them. Then the hunger kicked in. Damon caught the eye of a drunk tourist at the bar, compelled him quietly to step outside with them. In the alley behind the club, they fed—neat, controlled, leaving the man dazed but alive with a story he'd never quite remember. Katherine wiped a drop of blood from Damon's lip with her thumb and kissed him hard.
"Better," she murmured against his mouth. "Normal is overrated."
They kept moving, messing with people in small, petty ways that made the night theirs. Compelling a street performer to dedicate his next song to "the hottest couple in the Quarter." Making a group of frat guys think they'd lost their wallets and run around in panic. It was light. Fun. The kind of trouble they both craved.
Eventually they ended up in a quieter bar off the main drag—dim lights, sticky floors, the kind of place locals actually went. Camille O'Connell was behind the bar, blonde hair tied back, pouring drinks with the tired efficiency of someone who'd seen too much weird shit in this city. She gave them a nod when they sat down, like she knew exactly what they were.
"Rough night?" Katherine asked, sliding onto a stool.
Cami shrugged. "Every night's rough lately. You two look like you're celebrating something."
Damon flashed a grin. "Just enjoying the city. It's got character."
They ordered drinks—real ones this time—and talked quietly about nothing important. Katherine's hand rested on his thigh under the bar. For a moment, it felt almost peaceful.
Then the air changed.
The door opened. Davina Claire walked in, flanked by the Harvest witches—Monique, Abigail, and a couple of elders whose faces were set in hard lines. The few remaining humans in the bar suddenly stood up, eyes glassy, and walked out without a word. Compulsion or a spell—Damon couldn't tell. Only Cami stayed, frozen behind the bar as Katherine's hand shot out and gripped her wrist, holding her in place.
Cami's head spun. "What the—?"
A low chant rose from the witches. Latin mixed with something older, the words twisting like smoke. "*Sanguis tenebris, vincula frange, umbras voca, hostes liga.*" The air grew heavy, pressing down on Damon and Katherine like invisible chains. Their vampire strength flickered, muscles locking up.
Davina stopped a few feet away, eyes burning. "You really thought you could just walk around my city like you own it?"
Damon tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't cooperate fully. "Your city? Last I checked, the Mikaelsons had something to say about that."
Katherine laughed, strained but defiant, still holding Cami down as the bartender's head kept spinning from the chant. "This is insane. You're going after the Mikaelsons? Good luck with that."
Davina's expression didn't waver. "I'm not stupid. I know I can't kill the originals yet. But you? The first bloods? That's different." She reached into her coat and pulled out a white oak stake, the wood dark and ancient. It hummed with power. "Marcel told me once that the first bloods can be killed by the same thing that made the originals vulnerable. White oak. It won't kill the Mikaelsons outright, but it weakens them. Fuse it with the right dagger—the kind that puts originals to sleep—and it's fatal for you. Nobody's been dumb enough to try it on the family. But you two? You're close enough."
Damon struggled against the spell, fangs aching. "This is futile, kid. You can't kill us. You'll only bring the whole family down on your people. On this town."
"Yes," Davina said calmly. "But for you, it's different. This sends a message. The originals will know someone dared to come for their bloodline."
Katherine's eyes flashed. "That's insane." Despite the chant burning through her skull, she willed herself forward, launching at Davina with everything she had. The witches' combined power hit her like a freight train—pain exploding behind her eyes—but she still moved, fast and vicious. Her nails raked toward Davina's throat.
Davina raised a hand. The spell surged. Katherine slammed back against the bar, cracking wood. Cami cried out, still held in place.
Damon roared and broke partially free, lunging at the nearest witch. He grabbed her by the throat, but another chant hit him—legs buckling again. He smashed a chair over one of them, buying seconds. Katherine was back up, blood on her lip, eyes wild as she kicked low and swept another witch's legs. The bar became a whirlwind of broken glass and snarls. Tables flipped. Bottles shattered.
Davina watched, stake raised, the Harvest girls feeding her power. "You're strong. But you're not them. Not yet."
Katherine laughed through the pain, launching again. "We'll see about that."
The fight was brutal and short. The witches' chant never stopped, wearing them down like acid. Damon got in a solid hit on one elder, sending her crashing into shelves. Katherine nearly reached Davina before the full weight of the spell dropped her to her knees. Cami stayed pinned behind the bar, wide-eyed and terrified.
Davina stepped closer, stake gleaming. "This is only the beginning."