Somewhere out on the ocean
"Sir... there's movement from Klaus," the man opened the door to the captain's cabin, catching sight of Elijah buttoning his shirt while a young woman lay unconscious and naked in the bed behind him. "Uh..."
Elijah sighed and finished dressing. He walked over to the man with deliberate calm.
"Never mind that," he said quietly. "Now tell me—what has my brother done?"
The man took a breath and looked Elijah straight in the eye.
"He went to that magic bank in England... what was the name again? Grin-something..." He frowned, glancing around as if the name might float past.
"Gringotts," Elijah said calmly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "Do not trouble yourself with trivial details—get to the point."
"Klaus went there personally," the man reported. "Moved all the family's money into an account under the name 'Nik Sommers'."
Beneath his composed exterior, Elijah's hand curled into a fist.
"So he is in England." His eyes narrowed. "The fact that he didn't simply move the funds elsewhere, and that he knew exactly which goblins were corrupt enough to bypass my block... means he's already established himself there."
He released the man's shoulder and glanced back toward the woman on the bed.
"When she wakes... place her in front of a group of vampires and let her choose," Elijah said with a weary sigh. "She will lead my backup team against Klaus's people. And you—keep searching. If neither I nor my backup team send word within twenty days... take your men and launch attacks against every settlement that might be his. I want to cause him as much damage as possible."
"Yes, sir."
Elijah stepped out onto the deck, leaped onto a smaller boat, and crouched. With a powerful thrust he launched himself upward—shattering the vessel in two as he took flight. The shockwave sent waves crashing against the main ship, making it rock violently.
England
Elijah had miscalculated the distance. He splashed down in the waters off the English coast, still far from shore—and had to swim the rest of the way.
He arrived in a foul mood and needed to feed—swimming that far had cost him considerable energy.
He began his search across every corner of magical England: Diagon Alley, the wizarding villages, even the secluded estates of noble wandless witch families. Nothing.
Until he felt it—a pulse of magical power, unmistakable. Exactly like Klaus's. He followed the trail until it led him to an ordinary-looking restaurant in the heart of London.
He stepped inside. And there, across the room, sat his brother.
"Hello, brother. You took your time." Klaus smiled, crossing his legs and tapping the table lightly. "Do sit down. We have much to discuss."
Elijah's eyes narrowed, anger flaring. Veins rose along his neck.
"I have nothing to discuss with you—not after what you did to our brothers," he growled, his knuckles whitening.
"Tut, tut." Klaus laughed, raising both hands mockingly. "You'd attack me in front of witnesses? If I were a fledgling—or even if I were merely six hundred years younger—perhaps you could have silenced me before anyone noticed. But you are what... five years my senior? Sit down, Elijah. The food here is excellent."
Elijah scowled, but pulled out the chair and sat.
"Excuse me—my brother will have the house special." Klaus caught the waitress's attention with a bright smile. "And be generous with the sauce, please."
"Right away, sir," she nodded, heading toward the kitchen.
"Now then—where were we?" Klaus turned back to him, still smiling.
"We have nothing to settle," Elijah snapped. "How dare you speak so casually after dumping our brothers into the ocean?"
"Elijah, Elijah..." Klaus placed a hand over his heart, looking mock-hurt. "To think you actually believed I would do such a thing... I'm wounded you could think so little of me."
Elijah's eyes widened. He leaned forward, stunned.
"Where are they?" He struck the table hard enough that nearby patrons turned their heads. "I am not playing games, Niklaus."
"Search me." Klaus shrugged. "The last I saw them, they were chasing after decoys I created to mislead my enemies. They can be terribly persistent little pests."
"What are you talking about?" Elijah breathed, his jaw tight. "You speak as though you set them free."
Klaus didn't answer directly—he just smiled, and that smile said everything.
"But... why haven't they come to me?" Elijah looked visibly shaken. "I spent years searching the ocean floor for them."
"Search me," Klaus repeated, sounding completely indifferent. "Maybe you aren't quite as popular as you imagine yourself to be."
"Why did you lie to me, Niklaus?" Elijah raised his voice. "Why did you make me waste all that time?"
"A little payback... Aurora, remember? What you did?" Klaus's eyes turned cold. "A thousand years ago. You compelled her to hate me. I thought she was the love of my life... Did you honestly believe I would never find out?"
"You killed her—"
"Sir? Here's your house special—Sunday Roast," the waitress interrupted, setting the plate down gently.
"Thank you, my dear." Klaus handed her a hundred-pound note and whispered, "Keep the change."
"Thank you very much!" she beamed.
Klaus turned back to Elijah. His smile didn't reach his eyes anymore.
"I killed her—and I'd kill her a thousand times over if given the chance. That woman we called mother... and you lecture me? As if I don't know what really happened with Tatia." He stood up abruptly, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Enjoy your meal. Don't follow me. I want nothing more to do with you or our other brothers. And if you see them—tell them to stop looking for me. It grows tiresome constantly having to evade them."
And then he was gone—leaving Elijah sitting alone, stunned, in the middle of the restaurant.