White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Twenty-eight

1952 — Barcelona, Spain

   It was only for a few days that they would stay in Barcelona, while Klaus and Elijah figured out where to go next. There was no exact destination for them, just somewhere far from the man one considered a father and the other considered a monster. They spoke of California in North America, a large state filled with many people. Then they spoke of New York, the bustling city of lights and noises that was home to a kaleidoscope of species. State after state, country after country. Mikael had burned half of Europe throughout the years just to find his children: the first fire of Lübeck in 1157, the three times Constantinople burned in 1204, the great fire of Gouda in 1438, Olso in 1624, Skopje in 1689. They had nowhere else to go.

   "Stop running and start fighting!" Gianni yelled, slamming his hands kn the wooden table. Everything on top of it jiggled for several seconds, a bit of water from the vase spilling.

   Klaus let out a laugh. "You think it's easy to fight Mikael?" he asked, his voice slithering with anger. "If it were so easy, we would have fought him nine hundred years ago!"

   "Mikael is not an easy fight," Elijah calmly said.

   "Which is why we need to find that gemstone and break this curse." Klaus was pacing back and forth, arms crossed. "Where was Katerina last?"

   "She's been running for 400 years, Klaus," Elijah sighed. "If I knew where she was, I would have told you already."

   Klaus scoffed. "Of course you would." He sounded sarcastic, unsure. "You had feelings for her, brother, need I remind you of them?"

   Elijah's face hardened. "No," he simply said. "I don't need you to remind me of anything."

   "Enough!" Eleanor yelled, glancing between the brothers. "We've been here for three days, and all you two have done is fight. This needs to stop. You two are brothers, fighting the and for the same thing." She let out a sigh and shook her head. "If Mikael knew where we were, he would be here already, don't you think?"

   Klaus laughed and shook his head. It wasn't a laugh that said it was hilarious, but one that said that she was stupid. "Mikael is a hunter," he said, slowly, as if she hadn't understood the first time. "He waits for the perfect time to strike."

   "We've been coped in this room for days," Gianni groaned. "If he wanted us dead, we'd already be dead." He straightened his posture and put his hands on his waist. "It's New Years, there are parties everywhere tonight. Let's go to them and have some fun."

   "Yes!" Eleanor sprung from her seat and grinned widely. "I heard there will be a party at Plaza Real." She had been practising her Spanish for the last few days, wanting to perfect her pronunciation. So far, it had worked. "We can't just hide here until there's a safe place."

   Elijah sighed and leaned back on his chair, his fingers close to his lips. "Eleanor and Gianni are right," he said, staring at his brother. "We can't stay in here, Klaus. After all, it is New Years and we should celebrate that you've been able to be keep yourself alive for almost a thousand years."

   Klaus glared at his brother, fingers tapping against the arms of his chair. He leaned back, legs crossed, as if he had nothing to worry about. His face said otherwise. Eleanor could see the gentle wrinkles in his forehead and by his lips, the dark circles underneath his eyes--a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. She wondered what would happen if he closed his eyes; would he finally sleep?

   "No," he said after a long silence. "I'm not risking anything."

   "You've been running all your life, why don't you finally take a stand?!" Gianni yelled. His anger burned red inside of him, as if it would burn through his clothes. "You claim to be a warrior, a fighter, someone we should be afraid of, but all I see is a fucking coward."