Blue ▹ The Originals [2]

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT
FÊTE DE CADEAU

"My heart and my mind are constantly in a war and both are losing."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     The day of Axeman's Jazz was a day to remember. Henrik had a smile on his face as he walked through the streets of New Orleans. There was currently a parade making its way through the city, playing jazz music and brightening everyone's spirits. The orange, brown, and red leaves littering the ground only added to the festivity. Music would be played all day and all through the night, and Henrik was looking forward to celebrating it. He had so many bad memories with his family that it was easy for him to forget just how much he genuinely loved New Orleans. The atmosphere, the magic, the people—it was addictive in a way that Henrik enjoyed.

He was just leaving the heart of the city, where all the celebration was, and going into witch territory when someone fell into step beside him. Henrik didn't even bother looking his way. Francis had been guarding him for about a week, and he was finding the Strix member just as irritating as he was entertaining. He still wasn't quite sure which Francis would be that day.

"I'm certainly no New Orleans native," Francis started, sounding just as annoyingly cheerful as he usually did, "so forgive me if this question seems ignorant, but what exactly is everyone celebrating?" Henrik looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Axeman's Jazz," Henrik drawled, amused. "They celebrate it every November." Francis made a thoughtful sound, like he knew all along what it was but couldn't think of the name. Henrik scoffed and waited for him to ask.

"And what, exactly, is Axeman's Jazz?" he asked, just like Henrik thought he would.

"Why can't you just look it up?" Henrik asked, exasperated. They had finally reached Henrik's destination, but he didn't enter the gates, not yet. He just stopped and turned toward Francis.

"I have a feeling you know the true story behind it," Francis said. Henrik raised an eyebrow.

"I do."

"And?" Henrik released another exasperated sigh, shooting a glance at the Lafayette Cemetery gates. When he looked back at Francis, his bodyguard was smiling. It was the kind of smile that was dazzling and hungry all at once. Henrik's eyes narrowed. "My, you really do find me annoying," Francis commented, sounding pleased.

"Don't sound so proud about it," Henrik muttered. Francis's smile grew wider, more dazzling. Henrik got the feeling Francis was the type of person who knew exactly how pretty he and his smile was. Henrik found that even more irritating.

"Oh, but I am," Francis pushed, knowing he was annoying Henrik. "It's not every day I can get under a Mikaelson's skin." Henrik gritted his teeth together, jaw clenching. Francis caught it and smiled again. The smile quickly dimmed when he realized Henrik wasn't nearly as entertained as he normally was with his antics. After a moment of thought, Francis softened his voice and said, "So Axeman's Jazz?"

Henrik shot another glance at the cemetery gates and said, "It goes back to the Axeman of New Orleans in 1919. The Axeman was—"

He cut himself off when Francis waved an exasperated hand in the air.

"Yes, yes, I know about the many infamous serial killers from this city," Francis said, making Henrik scoff again. He couldn't stop glancing at the gates. He was itching to go inside. He knew Davina was there, and he hadn't seen her since the witch massacre she had caused. "I want the real story."