To Love A Sociopath

garden of the dead

They were at the cemetery, Clary trying to calm the crying child down. She was crying restlessly for her mother. A girl, a beautiful one. "Shhh," Clary said, trying to use her finger as a pacifier. "You're going to see mama real soon, okay?" The baby only chomped on her finger and continued to cry. She pulled back quickly, running an embarrassed hand through her hair as the girls stared at her. "Hurry up," she cleared her throat.

The other witches were battling on the field, trying to keep the vampires and the werewolves away from the ceremony.

Monique, Davina, Abigail and Cassie all surrounded the alter, starting a new chant. "Portes de la mort, récupérez ce qui est à vous, réclamez ce que vous méritez." Fire flamed in one of the stone pots and the wind whistled in response.

Clary unsheathed a knife, embroidered with a green ivy jewel and a sharp blade. "Portes de la mort, récupérez ce qui est à vous, réclamez ce que vous méritez," she said along with them. "Récupérez, réclamez."

"CLARICE," a mighty thunder of a voice yelled from the other end of the garden of the dead. Klaus and Elijah emerged, eyes blazing with a promise of brute, savage and lasting murder.

Clary flinched but continued to chant with a shaky voice. "Portes de la mort, récupérez ce qui est à vous, réclamez ce que vous méritez." Monique stepped away, running down the steps just as Elijah pulled out one of the metal poles on the fence, hurling it her way. The spear only cleaved through her and the spirit of the harvest witch held her hand out. She gathered all the rocks with magic, bunching them up into one pack before sending them their way. The Mikaelson's dodged it, flitting closer to the altar. The other harvest girls, except for Davina, left their post and aided in keeping them away.

Elijah tried to dart closer but Abigail stopped him with a swiftness that beat the centuries-old experienced vampire. The Initial Conjuration was just as old. "Pleure ce que tu as renversé." The Original fell to his knees with an agonizing cry, blood seeping down his eyes.

Clary kept chanting their own spell, the baby wailing loudly now. "Récupérez, réclamez, méritez." She gave Davina a nod and the young witch grabbed a small blade. She took a deep breath and mustered a hard swallow right before she slit her own throat. The body tumbled to the ground.

And as her death settled, the spirits of the harvest girls weren't alone, not anymore. Ancestors emerged, standing beside the three girls and began to chant, "Expulser ces démons de notre maison, les punir." The two vampires had no chance to save the child.

Klaus's forehead was bleeding, vital ruby liquid dribbling down his nose and mouth. "STOP IT," he ordered as Clary's spell paused. He tried to charge to her once more but the form of magic from the ancestors held him by his throat, plastering him against the wall. Clary raised the blade, preparing to bring it down on the wailing child. "PLEASE."

The witch gave him one final glance of remorse before diving the weapon down.

*

Bonnie woke in a dark, small room. Her nose was red and stuffy from her silent cries and her marron dress was drenched in blood. She glanced around, trying to pin down where she was.

"Bonnie Bennett," a croaky voice greeted and she snapped her head towards it.

Before her stood a short woman, skin dark and hair white as chalk. It should have portrayed old crippling age but the woman herself was young and alluring. Her eyes were an ethereal glassy grey and her strict face might as well have been the edge of a blade. Bonnie repositioned herself, wiping her tears. She wouldn't be surprised if she was dead. She didn't care. After Kai, after Hayley, after everything, she was glad. She had enough and it was about time she rested her case. "Who are you?"