Chapter 2

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As my eyes fluttered open, the cry of a new-born baby reached my ears. Turning my head from side to side, I scanned the surroundings. I saw the creepy red-head, Genevieve, holding both me and another baby, Hope, while two others were pinned against the wall, Klaus and Kol. Hearing a voice-no-two voices speak up, I looked up as I was placed in someone's arms, and saw the beautiful face of Danielle Campbell, or, as she is my new mother, Davina Claire.

"They're beautiful." Was all I heard from my new mother, before the witches grabbed both, her and Hayley, and slit their throats, taking my cousin an I from their arms as they did. I couldn't stop the cries that left my mouth, as I watched my mum crumble to the ground, lifeless and dead, after only spending a few mere seconds with me, her baby.

Over my own cries, I could those of Hope, along with our fathers, though the latter were quickly silenced as Genevieve snap their necks with the wave of her hand, and left the church, Hope and I in her arms. 

Entering the cemetery, the evil witch bitch who took us from our mothers' arms before killing them, placed Hope and I in separate baskets. And the two harvest witches, that the ancestors had so kindly brought back, started to chant, not wanting to waste any time when it came to murdering two innocent, me not so much but you get the point, babies. 

As the chanting increased, Monique Deveraux raised a knife above me and, as she went to plunge it into my heart, a chunk of wood impaled the other harvest girl, Abigail, breaking her concentration. Unfortunately, with the basket in the way, I couldn't see the fight, only hear it. And, from what I gathered, Davina was back as a vampire, but she must have been made a witch and vampire hybrid, from the chanting I could hear in the voice of Danielle Campbell.

You are correct child.

Okay, what the hell? Luci that you?

Yes... and don't call me 'Luci'.

Sure. Of course not. Anything you wish your devilish lordship.

...You're going to keep doing it, aren't you?


You could practically feel the exasperation in his tone. Oh, I am going to enjoy annoying him when I get bored. And that is quite a common occurrence when you are an eighteen-year-old stuck in the body of a baby.

Getting off track, I was jerked out of my conversation with the devil as I was picked up. Raising my head I saw the teary eyes of my new mother, and let out a 'coo' to comfort her. It seemed to work as she smiled at me. Now I just have to stop half of my new family from dying, peace of cake.

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