Dark Moon | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 36

They were in New Orleans for five days before they were ready to perform the ritual.

"This city is so beautiful!" Anya had said when they landed in the airport. "Wow— I want to try the beignets. Have you had them?"

"No, but Klaus has, and I have memories of them tasting really good," said Esmeray, pulling her bags with her. "Hmm... maybe we should rent a car. We'll need to go into the Bayou, and I don't want to walk there."

"We should get a tour guide, too," the wolf beside her said, scrunching up her nose as she plucked up one of the little brochures by the door. "Louisiana may be smaller than Oregon, but a lot has changed since Klaus was here, and there will still be a lot of unknown territory."

Esmeray pursed her lips. "Well... I could try to do a Mind Spell on someone to lead us around. Or just ask nicely? But I worry that any human will be put in danger. We'd need to find someone supernatural."

But it seemed they were at a loss for finding anyone that was supernatural. They moved into the French Quarter once they rented a car, and Esmeray felt an eerie absence of magic in the vicinity. They had stopped first at the Jardin Gris voodoo shop to look around after they found a parking space for their car. The woman in there ignored them almost entirely, only stating the price for wolfsbane when she saw them standing near it.

"Oh no," said Anya, shaking her head as the woman finished speaking. "We definitely don't want that."

"Maybe some other herbs, then?" the woman said blandly. "Most tourists seem to like those."

"No, we don't need any of those," said Esmeray, shaking her head before pulling Anya out of the shop. "This is so weird," she said as they walked toward the corner where there was a restaurant and bar called Rousseau's. "There should be witches here, but there aren't any. That girl at the shop— I would almost be certain she was a witch, but there isn't any recent magical energy around her. All these women out here reading cards are the fake witches that just get money from the tourists... Klaus told me that."

Anya huffed as she went to sit at the bar, looking up at the menu. "Maybe someone here will know." She looked over at a woman behind the bar, who was cleaning some of the glasses. "Um, excuse me."

The brunette was maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, but when she looked up, she looked quite a bit older. There was a saddened look in her eyes as she scanned over Esmeray and Anya's faces. The two wolves heard her breath hitch, as if the sight of two young women was triggering unpleasant memories. "You're not old enough to drink," she murmured. "You'd be better off sitting at one of the tables. I'll come around with a menu."

Anya got to her feet. "Alright. I um... just wanted to ask. We're touring..." she gave Esmeray a sideways look before adding, "and um, the brochure said something about supernatural occurrences in New Orleans, but we haven't found anything."

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly. She seemed to be able to sense that they weren't regular women. "You're not safe here," she whispered. "Whatever you are, get out. They won't want to see new faces."

Esmeray frowned and moved closer. "What do you mean?"

The woman looked around quickly before saying, "The vampires are everywhere. They don't like witches."

Anya bit her lip. "Well, I'm a wolf."

"Even worse," said the woman fearfully. "Seriously, it's not safe. Us witches haven't been able to practice magic in weeks. They've been killing anyone who tries— they've been able to sense it. And they hate wolves more than anything. You came to the wrong place to vacation."