Chapter Thirty Three | Burning Blade

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This book is based and inspired by the Originals, with a tinge of the Vampire Diaries. I suggest that you watch the shows to understand some occurrences.

All rights go to The Originals television show on the CW, and Lisa Jane Smith (the author), except the characters and events that are purely of my imagination. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, OR ELSE YOU'LL BE REPORTED.

I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT IF ANYONE IS COPYING SECTIONS FROM THIS BOOK THAT ARE OF MY INVENTION, PLEASE TAKE ACTION.

(EDITED)


________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛

The song of the chapter is: Silhouettes by Of Monsters and Men

It's hard letting go,

   I'm finally at peace,

 but it feels wrong.

Slow I'm getting up,

My hands and feet are weaker than before.

And you are folded on the bed,

Where I rest my head,

There's nothing I can see,

Darkness becomes me.

A thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest, 

  No matter where I sleep, you are haunting me.

________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛



        CHAPTER THIRTY TWO  BURNING BLADE


     "WITCHES OF THE FRENCH Quarter! I have with me Monique Devereaux. What a shame it would be were I forced to sent her back to the death she's just escaped! Should you wish to prevent this, bring me the witch Bastianna!"

     I bite my lips in worry as I hide stealthily behind a nearby building, peeking over its edge. I watch as Nik walks deeper and deeper into the witches' realm, holding the young Monique Devereaux by the neck. I have no idea how he even kidnapped her, but I suppose he did it fairly easily, seeing that Monique's power from the Harvest was no longer residing within her body.

     Before venturing through New Orleans' highly populated witch streets, we had agreed that while Nik dealt with the 'negotiations', I would skulk in shadows out of sight, ready to jump in and help if the witches tried anything.

      I couldn't help but feel a flurry of butterflies in bloody hobnailed boots kicking around my stomach. There was something different about tonight. Usually when we squabbled with the witches, we were allies. Shaky allies, yet friends connoted due to mutual benefaction, nevertheless. Today, we were walking into their hearth as enemies.

      We were declaring war.

     Suddenly, at the corner of my eye, I spot Marcel rushing over to Nik. "Shit." I mutter, "Nik, Marcel's here." 

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