Of Monsters and Men ₰ The Originals

Chapter Six - The Baby and the Deal With the Witches

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.







This chapter is dedicated to an amazing follower, Musical_abyss, for that awesome comment that you wrote on my fifth chapter and for voting for my every part in this book so far. Thank you! I appreciate the support a lot.

Here goes:









          CHAPTER SIX - THE BABY AND THE DEAL WITH THE WITCHES





     I THROW BACK MY head and relish in the taste of the blood, as some rivulets cascade down my chin. The human in my arms whimpers and I slowly open my eyes, looking down upon him. I roll my eyes in resignation and start to compel him.

     "You will not remember anything. You came to New Orleans, went on a tour and now you will go back home," I bite my wrist until there is enough blood to make the man forget his traumatic experience. "Oh, come to think of it -" I stuff my wrist into his mouth, forcing him to drink. Steadily, the bite mark on his neck fades away. "Go to the bathroom and wipe that nasty blood off your neck, will you? And if you notice any other vampires drinking or doing inhumane acrobatics, just ignore them, okay? Thank you for your service!" I push the pale looking man in a random direction and sigh, satisfied.

     Marcel's party rocked. Nobody even noticed me, and I went inside with absolutely no problems. Instead of chips or whatever humans put on buffets these days, expensive alcohol lined the tables. Of course, if you wanted to eat, then you could chose a human wandering around at random, as long as you made them forget afterwards.

     It was another one of Marcel's rules, according to the clearly written banner (imprinted with a large, capital 'M') hanging from one side of the balcony to the other: I had to compel the humans to forget everything. Since I do not want to appear suspicious, or get into 'trouble', I have to (unwillingly, obviously) follow it.

     Loud music thumps in the walls of the house, vibrating the glass. Intoxicated vampires and clueless tourists wander around in huge numbers, the predators picking and choosing their prey at random. I had seen Marcel around a few minutes ago, but I was not here to spy, I was here to enjoy myself, and forget about all the rising drama around me, so I did not bother to keep my eye on him.

     I had noticed that Marcel had a lot of girls fawning over him, but he did not give them any attention, much to my surprise. Maybe he had a special lady. Or . . . maybe he was just gay. He just hanged with his friends and chatted, drunk from his collection of alcohol, and laughed. I did notice, however, that his friends were wearing lapis lazuli, to prevent them from burning in the sun. As Sophie said: they were his inner circle.

     "Enjoying yourself?"

     I do not move and continue observing the scene down below me from the balcony. All thoughts of Marcel being gay vanish from my mind and I concentrate every single fiber on the man behind me. Sure, I was not looking at him, but I could sense him nevertheless. I had to be on guard now.

     "Yes. I'm enjoying myself a lot. I thought that I would see Marcel's famous parties first-hand. And so far," I say, turning around slightly, gesturing with my head at Elijah to come and stand next to me on the balcony, "it has impressed me."

     Elijah calmly walks and leans on the railing, watching me at the corner of his eyes. "You were not surprised at my sudden coming?"

      I snort softly, not unkindly and continue to gaze at the swarming vampires below me. "I'm quite old, Elijah. I don't get surprised very easily."

     "Were you not surprised at Hayley's little secret, then?"

     I laugh shortly and look at him. "That was a shock that was worth every boring minute of my life." Elijah chuckles at my attempt of a mood lightener. "Yes, when vampires are as old as we are, we tend to have a lot of boring moments." He stops, pausing slightly, probably wondering how to ask his burning question that I know he has.

     "Melissa, is it?" He asks. I simply give a nod in reply. "Exactly how old are you?"

     I smirk and shoot back. "Why do you care?"

     "It is rather curious as to why a vampire as old as yourself would care about a mere werewolf." I realise that he is deflecting. That obviously was not the reason he asked. He was suspicious.

      Damn it! I curse in my head. It was only a few hours that I had met him again and he is already suspicious. "Excuse me," I say, jokingly pretending to be offended. "I do have a heart, you know! I have friends! And isn't it rude to ask a woman her age, Elijah?" I tease. He always used to be a gentlemen, back in the day, and I know that it just magnified when he turned into a vampire. My ears hear angry footsteps resounding through a corridor of the house, coming closer. I knew who it was.

     As he opens his mouth, possibly to apologise, I cut in: "and besides, when we live as long as we have, we learn not to give out too much information, don't we?" I say it in a light tone, but we both know what double meaning lies behind my words.

     Suddenly Nik storms in, and everyone leaves him be, as they can feel his temper reek off him. Elijah notices him as well, because he does not reply to my statement. Marcel suddenly pops out of the blue and welcomes Nik with open arms. Literally.

     "Hey, Nik! Where did you run off to?" Marcel asks with the light tone of an excellent host. Nik does not bother to reply and Marcel's face turns to one of realisation. "Uh oh. Someone put you in a mood. What can I do for you?"

     "What you can do is tell me what this thing is, that you have with the witches," Nik says, his angry footsteps halting. I sigh and I internally groan. Why did Nik have to be present wherever I go? Was it karma? No wonder people say that karma is a bitch. A huge one as well.

     Marcel still dons a smile on his pretty face, but I can see that he was annoyed at Nik's pestering question. "You know that I owe you everything that I've got. But I'm afraid that I have to draw the line on this one! This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that." Marcel says, with a voice that suggested that he was the teacher and Nik was his student.

     Nik scrunches up his face with distaste. "Your town?" He says sarcastically. Marcel still grins, stars in his eyes. "Damn straight." He smiles.

     Nik laughs sarcastically in a way that suggested that his temper was rising fast. Usually, with normal people, this just meant this would turn into an argument. But Nik was not usual, and definitely not normal. His tempers usually meant that he would go and kill people.

     Do you see why this was bad? Yeah, I thought so.

     "That's funny. Because when I left a hundred years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down and now look at you! Master of your domain, prince of the city!" Nik snarls mockingly.

     The house goes pitch silent, while everyone goes to the side, watching the fight unravel, their juicy spectacle for the night. I mean, how often was it that you found someone challenging their little royal arsehole?

     Nik drops the volume of his voice. "I'd like to know how." He does not say this as a question, but rather as an order. "Why? Jealous?" Marcel rebukes, tilting his head threateningly to his side. I whistle, raising an eyebrow up. "Oh, he did not just do that!" I exclaimed, half impressed and half shocked.

     Everyone around the duo are staring at them, unblinkingly, afraid to miss even one moment of the fight. I must say, I was staring as well. Nik, as a human, had a terrible temper, so as a vampire, his unfortunate trait enlarged. I wonder what Nik will do now.

     I am not concerned for his safety. He knows how to look after himself and is stronger, faster and smarter (with experience) than anyone else in the party combined. Then there was the fact that he is immortal and thus cannot be killed no matter what. If things got sticky, Elijah could jump in and help him. Elijah can be killed, but he is still an Original. Then there is me: I am not an Original, but I am very old, so I can help them if need be.

     Marcel begins speaking again, aware of the ongoing spectators around him. He might like a good show, but one day, it will be the death of him.

      "Hey, man, I get it: three hundred years ago, you helped build a backwater colony into something. You started it, but then you left. In fact, you ran from it. I saw it through; look around. Vampires rule this city now. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing, and the party never ends. You want to pass on through? You want to stay a while? Great, what's mine is yours, but it is . . . mine! My home, my family, my rules!"

     I scoff and look at Elijah. "God, he sounds like a little brat. I, me, mine!" I mime the end, putting on a baby voice. Elijah looks sad and wistful. "Marcel . . . was not like that in the beginning. He was kind, nice and a good lad. Being 'king of the city' has changed him in every worst way possible."

      I suddenly lose my humour. "It changes us all." I say softly. Elijah looks at me for a few moments, understanding what I mean, and then nods in agreement. "Yes. It changes us all," he says.

     I look back at the crowd below me. Then it struck me. "Wait. You knew Marcel, too?" Saving Elijah from answering, the argument goes on when Nik rebukes.

     "And if someone breaks those rules?" Nik asks, rather calm of this entire situation. "They die." Marcel replies, enunciating each word carefully, as if he wants to make Nik understand that he was not afraid to kill him.

     Marcel continues from his statement: "Mercy is for the weak, you taught me that too. And let me make something clear, Klaus. I'm not the Prince of the Quarter, 'friend'. I'm the King!" He growls fiercely at the end of his sentence.

     Nik looks royally pissed off when Marcel finishes his little me-myself-and-I rant: "show me some respect!"

     I raise an eyebrow and look at Elijah momentarily. "He's dead," I predict. Nobody crossed the Niklaus Mikaelson.

      Nobody.

      Nik looks around, sizing Marcel's Nightwalkers and Daywalkers. He pin-points his next victim and puts on an ugly smirk on his face, directed towards Marcel. Suddenly, quicker than my own eyes could possibly perceive, Nik super speeds to one of Marcel's body guards (Pierre, was it? No, it was Thierry. Yes, I remember him from the pre-party), and bites him.

     I frown and turn to Elijah. "Okay. I'm confused. Why is Nik biting him? I thought that vampire-to-vampire bites were for a pair who are . . . intimate. And I'm pretty sure that Nik and Diego aren't. Unless Nik is . . ." I finish with mock horror.

      Elijah rolls his eyes dramatically. "No, Niklaus is not what you are currently presuming he is -" I let out a relieved sigh, theatrically flicking my forehead with my hand. "- since he is a hybrid, he is part werewolf. And werewolf bites are fatal to vampires."

      I widen my eyes. "Oh! I understand now!" I do not know why I purposely act childish around Elijah. I did that even back in the day. I think that it was because Elijah gave off a teacher-like air that always made my feel like a stupid teenage student.

     Nik finishes thorougly biting Thierry, while Elijah rolls his eyes and lifts them up to the heavens as though asking: why must my brother be so impulsively stupid?

     "Your friend will be dead by the weekend." Nik announces to the crowd, his face bloodied. "-which means that I have broken one of your rules!" He says, looking highly amused at the turn of the tables. "And yet, I cannot be killed!" He boasts.

      Nik walks slowly towards Marcel, stopping to whisper closely in his ear, saying it like a secret. "I am truly immortal," Marcel purses his lips in anger, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Who has the power now, friend?" Nik spits out the word friend, using Marcel's words from before.

      Ah, Nik. I think, shaking my head. The years have made you so dramatic.













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     "He's willing to give up everything," Elijah says, speaking on the phone. I walk beside him, keeping up with his long strides. "Come on, Elijah, does that really surprise you?" A female voice drifts out of the speakers. I stiffen slightly, recognising the voice.

     Rebekah Mikaelson. My best friend. My sister.

     "No, I see it. He's spiralling. He's lashing out of blind rage. You know, the last time I saw him like this, it lasted for two hundred years?" I quirk up an eyebrow. Two hundred years? Talk about a grudge. Nik should get a Guiness World of Records award for that one.

      "Then leave him to his temper tantrum and come home," Rebekah says. I smile slightly. She had an English accent, but with a slight tinge of Australian. Oh, how I wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder, venting off all these centuries-worth of feelings! She would help me. She always used to, anyway. "With any luck," Rebekah continues, "this misadventure will allow us a repreive from all of this insanity."

      Elijah continues to walk, but slower now. "He was so close, when he heard the baby's heartbeat, I could see it; in his eyes, he wanted it, he could almost taste happiness! And now his temper has destroyed it." I feel a tinge of guilt. How unhappy was he after I left? I should have been there to be his rock! What kind of a person was I? I growl audibly, and push down the guilt. I hated emotions sometimes!

      Elijah gives me a look at my growl, but I ignore it. "Even if I return him to sanity, he just lost Marcel's trust. So," Elijah looks at his watch, consulting the time. "I'm almost out of time to get the girl."

     I snap my head towards Elijah when he says that. No doubt that Hayley was 'the girl.' Elijah must have talked to the witches after I had left to party. About what, though? "Get her?" Rebekah shrieks, as though it is an atrocity. "Have you lost your mind? Are we running an orphanage now?" I give a short laugh when she says that. It seems as though the years had gifted Rebekah with a lot of sarcasm.

     "Say what you will about Niklaus, but on my life, I will not let anything happen to that baby." He ends the call, and puts it back in his pocket. "Who was that?" I ask, playing dumb. "You were listening to every word I said, didn't you?" He says, though not angrily. I smile lightly. "It's kind of hard not to, when you've got supernatural hearing." I tap my ear, emphasising my point.

     Elijah lets a few moments pass before speaking again. "That was my baby sister: Rebekah."

     Trying to break the ice, I comment, "she's very sarcastic," Elijah chuckles. "Annoingly so."

     "What did you say about Hayley, though?" I ask, digging for information.

     "The witches said that I could keep Hayley in our mansion, safe in our hands, as long as I can make Niklaus agree to the deal of putting down Marcel."

     "Let's just assume that it will not be a Sunday's stroll to the park, yes?" I say.















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     We knew that we would not be able to convince Nik to agree to the witches' deal. Therefore, Elijah had come to the conclusion to buy more time. He had not exactly informed me what he was going to say, but he did order me to stay quiet during their encounter.

     We enter the bar, where we were informed (thanks to compulsion on Elijah's part) that Marcel was currently sitting in. A little bell chimes as the door opens. We step inside and and look around. Vampires sit lazily on all the chairs. It is Marcel's army, no doubt. I hear Marcel speaking on the phone to somebody.

     "You find him, and then you call me. Don't worry, I know how to deal with Klaus," Elijah decides to interfere at that moment: "is that so? Please elaborate."

     "Elijah Mikaelson." Marcel says with grit teeth, disconnecting the call.

      At the sound of Elijah's surname, Mikaelson, the entire bar stand up in tense positions, ready to fight. Elijah seems unfazed by their sudden movement. However, I can't say that about myself. They are all young, but they are in huge numbers. And you know what they say, 'strength comes in bigger numbers'.

     Marcel waves a lazy hand to the vampires, commanding them to sit down. "No, I got it. It's all good," he says, very calm. The vampires hesitantly sit down, but I can see that their bodies are rigid with the preparation to fight. Elijah and I take the white flag's opportunity to sit down on the chairs opposite Marcel. "And who's this, Elijah?" Marcel drawls lazily. "Your girlfriend? She's a beautiful one."

     I somehow manage to snort and smirk at the same time. "I can't say that about yourself," I retort, referring to Marcel calling me beautiful. I did not specify or give away any other information. Let Marcel's imaginations run wild trying to figure out who I am. As I said, 'when we live as long as we have, we learn not to give out too much information.'

     Marcel lets out a bark of laughter. "She's a feisty one," I give a sarcastic smile in return. "It's time we had a little chat," Elijah says before one of us continue to antagonize each other. For the next few minutes they seemed to be having an eye contest, eye-balling each other.

      Marcel breaks the silence, impatient. "Well, if you're going to talk, talk! I've got things to do," like finding the cure to save Thierry, I think.

     "My, my; you've gotten quite confident over the last century, haven't you?" Elijah raises his eyebrow.

     "Me?" Marcel says, dubious. "I say it's you and your brother who got cocky, coming to my town like you own the place!"

      "Oh, we did own the place, once. We were all quite happy here, as I recall, although," he pauses, as though wanting dramatic effect, "we could never control those . . . pesky witches at the French Quarter. How do you do it?" He was digging for information, although it was pretty clear that Marcel knew what he was up to.

     "Your brother asked me the same question, and I'll give you my same answer: it's my business. Everything in the quarter is my business. Klaus comes into town, all nice and friendly, then he starts looking down his nose at what I did like it's some . . . cheap knockoff for one one of his dumb paintings," I sit up in my chair, interested. Nik paints? Since when?

      "Then he gets pissed off like a little bitch, and bites one of my guys," Marcel rants, his voice starting to growl towards the end of his sentence.

     "Well," Elijah is the complete opposite of the obviously angry and flustered Marcel. He is the picture if tranquility, like he knew that he would gain victory over this little discussion. "I do apologise for Klaus' poor behaviour. I assume you know that the bite will kill your friend within a matter of days . . ."

     Marcel curls his lips, upset that he would be losing his friend. Or should I say, slave?

     "Of course, Niklaus' blood would cure him." Elijah says lightly. Now it gets interesting, I think. Marcel gives a little frown and leans forward, surprised at this sudden relevation. This is Elijah's bargaining chip, I realise. But what was he trying to get in return? Information on the witches?

     "What?" Marcel asks, hope to save his friend colouring his voice. "Yes," Elijah confirms. "Apparently the blood of the hybrid can cure a werewolf bite. Quite . . . handy little thing - when one needs leverage in negotiation,"

     The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, and I am surprised that Nik's blood is the cure to the bite. However, this would mean that Nik had to willingly give it up, which will be hard to achieve because we had to convince him.

     And I thought being a vampire was supposed to make life, well, death, easier.

     Marcel, desperate to save Thierry huffs, pissed that he had to ask someone for help. "What negotiations are we talking about?"

     "Return the body of the fallen witch, Jane-Anne, and let her people put her to rest." He says this with finality in his tone, giving off the impression that he was being deadly serious. Marcel tilts his head to the side, like a curious child.

     "What do you care about the witches?" He asks suspiciously.

     Elijah smirks as though he won the battle. "Well, that's my business now, isn't it?"

     I smirk, getting up. "Owned!" I whisper maliciously to Marcel, leaving the bar with Elijah in tow, dramatically.















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      We enter the cemetery gates right when the clock chimes midnight. Elijah had informed me that midnight was the deadline that the witches gave. I quicken my pace, my hair flying behind me. "We've got to hurry up," I say, "before they do something drastic like, I don't know, kill Hayley and the baby?"

     "Well, Melissa," Elijah says, slower than me. "You're not the one carrying a full-grown witch's body."

      "You're one of the oldest vampires that ever existed in the history of time. Be the man." I say flatly. Elijah rolls his eyes.

     As we near the mausoleum and descend the steps, we hear a witch's voice. "Klaus does not care about the child, Sophie."

     "I do." Elijah says, coming out of the shadows. I give him a hard look. "We do." he corrects himself.

     All their eyes fall to the body of Jane-Anne Devereaux. "And we bring proof." I say. "That we intend to help you." Elijah finishes. "The body of your fallen friend, which I procured from Marcel himself." he puts Jane-Anne's broken body on the floor, and Sophie immediately runs to it and holds it close, as though scared that it will disappear.

     "She should be granted peace." I say softly, staring at Sophie's emotional breakdown. It reminds me of what happened to me all those years ago. That fateful argument with my family . . .

      Back to business, Elijah states confidently: "Klaus will agree to your terms. I just need more time."

     "Your time has been granted." a witch says. Another one, the curly haired witch, gives her a hard look and snaps, "shut up, Agnes!"

     "For now," Elijah starts. "Accept the deal. The girl and child will remain unharmed. Or Klaus will kill you all. And," he says before turning to leave the mausoleum, sending each witch a warning look, "I will help him."

      "Wait," I say, following him. "I'll accompany you to the gates."















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      The walk is mostly silent. "How will you do it?" I ask. "I don't know." He replies honestly. "I'll just go with the moment's events." I nod understandingly. You could have no plans with Nik; he was as moody as the sea, surprises at every corner.

      "Aren't you going to the funeral?" Elijah asks curiously. I shake my head violently. "I don't like funerals. Never had, never will. Too gloomy and depressing for my taste." I drop my voice, suddenly feeling the itch of threatening tears. "When I died and turned . . . my family did not care. People thought I was dead: they saw me die, when, in reality, I was still knocked out cold. When I woke up and told them about me, they disowned me, calling me a monster, a demon."

      I sniff loudly at the memory, my eyes prickling. "Never gave me a funeral. Ignored the neighbour's questions about my death, pretended like I never existed. So I ran away."

     We were at the gates now, and Elijah gives me a sympathizing look. "At least they didn't run a sword through your chest to turn you."

     "Might as well have." I whisper, my voice breaking. The church's clock chimes quarter past twelve, and Elijah looks up to it, frowning. "I have to go, Melissa."

      I nod. "I know." Before Elijah disappears in the distance, I call out to him: "do whatever you have to do, Elijah." He didn't give a signal that he heard me, but I knew he had.

     I just hope that Nik agrees, or it's Hayley funeral tomorrow, and I don't think that I can forgive him for that.

I think it's obvious that I have a soft spot for Rebekah. We share the same name, so I kind of adore her.

I apologise deeply for updating after eight days. But I've been having so much work to do - from daily homework to projects to assessments.

Today I kind of neglected my homework, so I hope you guys are happy. Oh, and a HUGE thanks to my new fans, the story's given votes and new reading list additions.

I gave a little more of a background to Melissa's past, hope you liked it.

Please support me by pressing the VOTE button and please COMMENT, tell me if you enjoyed it.

Keep in touch,










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P.S - The next chapter will start from the second episode of 'The Originals' TV show.