Chapter 2: Truth and Consequences
The Mikaelson compound was exactly what I'd expect from a family of immortal sociopaths—all antique furniture that probably cost more than my yearly salary and portraits of dead people who looked suspiciously like the very much alive people who'd tied me to a chair.
The rope burned against my wrists, expertly knotted to restrict blood flow without cutting circulation entirely. Professional work. Klaus stood before me, having traded his rain-soaked coat for a black henley that somehow made him look more dangerous, not less.
"Now then," he said, voice carrying that deceptively calm tone that promised violence. "Let's discuss what you are."
I tested the bonds again. Still solid. "I'm a very confused tourist with really bad timing?"
Klaus backhanded me with casual efficiency. Pain exploded across my cheek, and I tasted copper. The slap wasn't meant to seriously injure—just to establish the power dynamic.
"Wrong answer," he said. "You moved with vampire speed, yet your heart beats. You knew my name without introduction. You glow like a bloody Christmas ornament." He leaned closer, bourbon and menace on his breath. "What. Are. You?"
Before I could craft another deflection, information flooded my mind again. Not the system's usual sarcastic commentary, but something else—a distant presence, pain given form and purpose. A witch, somewhere in the city, practicing the kind of magic that turned nerve endings into lightning rods.
Without conscious thought, I reached for that power.
Klaus was in the middle of what I'm sure was a very intimidating monologue when I turned his own torture techniques against him. The borrowed magic hit him like a freight train—every pain receptor in his body firing at once, sending him to his knees with a sound I'd never heard a man make.
[SYSTEM: Tortured already? You're breaking personal bests for disaster.]
"Stop!" The voice came from the doorway—elegant, authoritative. A man in an impeccable suit stepped into the room, his face a mask of controlled concern. Elijah Mikaelson, if the system's earlier information dump was accurate. "Niklaus, what have you done?"
Klaus struggled to his feet, fury replacing pain in his expression. "The question, brother, is what has he done?" He turned back to me, and I let the borrowed magic fade. No point in escalating when I was still tied to a chair.
"I defended myself," I said simply. "Same as you would."
"You're no ordinary human," Klaus growled. "The power you just used—"
"OUCH!"
The word exploded from my throat with zero input from my brain. Klaus paused mid-sentence, confusion flickering across his features.
"What did you—"
"OUCH!" I shouted again, heat flooding my cheeks. "OW! YEOWCH!"
[SYSTEM: Screaming for fun? Classy. Maybe sing an opera next.]
This was the punishment for using the witch's magic. Random vocal outbursts that made me sound like a cartoon character. Fantastic.
"Is he having some sort of fit?" Elijah asked mildly.
"OUCH! DAMMIT!" The words tore from my throat against my will. Klaus watched with growing irritation while I fought to regain control of my own vocal cords.
That's when I heard laughter.
In the far corner of the room, a younger man with dark hair and a leather jacket was actually giggling. Kol Mikaelson, the family's resident chaos agent, looked delighted by my involuntary sound effects.
"Oh, this is brilliant," Kol said, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "He's like a broken alarm clock. Do it again!"
"YEOWCH!" I obliged against my will, and Kol burst into fresh laughter.
Klaus's patience was clearly wearing thin. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I don't care what parlor tricks you possess. If you threaten my family—"
He never finished the sentence.
The air in the room suddenly thrummed with power—not the chaotic energy I'd been borrowing, but something controlled, purposeful. Magic that tasted of incense and old knowledge flowed through the compound like a river finding its path.
Klaus released me and spun toward the doorway as a young woman stepped inside. Dark skin, kind eyes, and an aura of barely contained power that made my borrowed vampire senses tingle. Davina Claire, according to the flood of information suddenly available to me. Witch. Dangerous. Currently very annoyed.
"The rogues are handled," she announced, not bothering with pleasantries. "But whatever light show you've got going on in here is making my concentration spells hiccup."
Her eyes found me, tied to the chair and probably looking like I'd been through a blender. "You're the one who saved that woman in the alley."
"OUCH!" I replied helpfully. "Sorry, that wasn't—YEOWCH!—intentional."
Davina's expression softened slightly. "Klaus, untie him."
"Absolutely not," Klaus said. "He's a threat—"
"He's a victim of circumstance who saved an innocent life," Davina interrupted. Her voice carried the kind of authority that suggested arguing would be unwise. "And if you keep torturing him, I'm going to assume you've forgotten the difference between justice and sadism."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Klaus and Davina stared at each other in the kind of silence that precedes either violence or very reluctant cooperation.
Elijah cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could discuss this rationally—"
Before he could finish, Davina raised her hand and spoke a single word in what sounded like Latin. The world exploded into white light and ringing silence.
When my vision cleared, I was slumped forward in the chair, the ropes hanging loose around my wrists. Klaus was unconscious on the floor, drool pooling beneath his cheek. Kol was blinking rapidly, his earlier amusement replaced by wary respect.
"Temporary," Davina said, noting my stare. "He'll be up in a few minutes with nothing but a headache and wounded pride."
She turned to Elijah, who was watching the proceedings with the expression of a man accustomed to supernatural family drama.
"Your brother has trust issues," she said conversationally.
"OUCH!" I added, because apparently my vocal cords were still on strike. "Sorry. Still not—YEOWCH!—intentional."
Elijah studied me with sharp intelligence. "What Niklaus lacks in subtlety, he makes up for in paranoia. You have to understand—unusual individuals appearing in our city rarely herald good news."
"I'm not here to cause trouble," I said, relieved that my voice was finally cooperating. "I just... ended up here. Wrong place, wrong time."
"And yet you moved with vampire speed. Used magic without training. Knew my brother's name without introduction." Elijah's voice remained pleasant, but I caught the steel underneath. "Surely you can understand our curiosity."
Before I could answer, Klaus stirred on the floor, groaning like a man with a spectacular hangover. Davina had been right about the temporary part.
"Perhaps," Elijah continued as his brother slowly regained consciousness, "we could discuss an arrangement. Temporary sanctuary in exchange for information. Nothing invasive—simply a conversation between civilized individuals."
I looked around the room—at Kol's entertained grin, at Davina's cautious neutrality, at Klaus struggling to his feet with murder in his eyes. At Elijah's diplomatic smile that promised either protection or a very polite execution.
"That," I said carefully, "sounds like the best offer I'm likely to get today."
Klaus finally made it to his feet, swaying slightly. His glare could have melted steel, but Davina's presence seemed to keep his homicidal impulses in check.
"This conversation is far from over," he promised, his voice rough from whatever magical hangover Davina had given him.
"I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise," I replied.
Through the compound's tall windows, I caught a glimpse of the French Quarter beyond—rain-slicked streets and wrought-iron balconies that belonged in postcards, not supernatural war zones. Somewhere out there, a figure on a rooftop had watched Klaus's people drag me away. Someone who knew about vampires and glowing strangers and probably had their own agenda.
I had a feeling my problems were just getting started.
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