Her Majesty // Mikaelson

37 Halloween

The image is from the movie the Purge, something I highly recommend!

"These are creepy. Like Jason meets Freddy Kruger Creepy." I look at the mask, holding the bat across my shoulders as we walked down the sidewalk of New Orleans.

"I can't believe you haven't seen The Purge." Ashley goes on. I roll my icy eyes, glancing at Onoskelis who shared the same look of irritation and confusion I did. For once, I could read her emotions like she said them out loud.

"Once I start wasting my time divulging myself into the cinematic theatre of modern America, I'll become the one thing I've never been." I say, my sing-song voice seeming to make a humming sound with the brilliant Scottish accent.

"Really?" Ashley asks, rolling her brown eyes, probably thinking I'm theatrical for someone who doesn't watch movies. Well, not movies like 'The Purge' at least. "What's that?"

"Ordinary. Ashley." I answer. "And I couldn't think of anything more tragic than being ordinary." I pause. "Except maybe death. I'd like not to die." As we pass another group of loud teens dressed in all kinds of vulgar ways for Halloween, Onoskelis looks ahead, and I spot the woman as she does.

"Isn't that your friend?" The demon asks.

"No." I watch Camille enter the bar, and know it was her shift. "I don't have friends. A perfect excuse to get a drink." I look at the mask in my hands, then smile. "It's Halloween, after all." And then I snap the elastic band around my head, fix my curls, and lead the way.

Rousseau's was filled with tourists. Busy people in and out. Everyone on the streets today were in costumes. One way or another. Even if they just wore a mask, or a tail. Or maybe just made their makeup into a zombie. Either way, the living and the dead dressed like the unnatural. The strange. The real and the fake. Because this was their way of celebrating a holiday that was intended to scare demons away.

I glance at Onoskelis. They were clearly doing a wickedly terribly job at it.

I pull my phone from my pocket as we sit at the bar, leaning our baseball bats on the floor. My teeth clamp together when I see I've received no message from Lance. He was also doing a wickedly terrible job. His scouts had to have picked up something. Somewhere.

Zetrov was getting closer, and their silence had made me bite my tongue in anticipation. Why hadn't they acted? Have they found the sword? Are they waiting for the perfect moment to strike? I pull my mask off, and set it beside me on the bar counter, rubbing my eyes as though I was stressed.

As soon as Camille is in earshot, I mouth off. "Now, what do you get when an Italian, a Scott, and a..." I scratch my cheek. What was someone called when they came from hell? "Demon walk into a bar?" I finish swiftly. Cami looks at me, and almost was about to laugh but then she realizes that I wasn't here to make small talk.

"Murder?" Ashley asks, sipping a drink that a guy had brought her. I lick my lips, pursing them.

"Wrong." I grab a toothpick from behind the counter.

"Bad table manners?" Skelly guesses. I smile slightly, mostly because of the way she said it.

"Wrong again." I stick the toothpick into my mouth, moving it around with my tongue, and meeting the slightly worried gaze of Camille.

"Then what?" Ashley asks.

"A party." And then I tilt my head, and smirk.

And only a minute and a half later did I have Camille behind the building, pushing her briskly in front of me like a force shield. In a way, she was. No, I wouldn't hurt the bartender but I did need her.