Blue ▹ The Originals [2]

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THE BRUTALITY OF WITCHES

"I am wicked in many ways."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     The month following their arrival in France, Henrik spent his time with Francis in Paris, and it was a breath of fresh air compared to his time in New Orleans. It was nice to finally be able to rest, to be able to simply spend their time doing absolutely nothing without having to worry that there was a threat waiting around the corner. He knew that it had been five years since Marcel had attacked them, but to him it had been only a month. Being so far away from Marcel made him able to relax.

That is, until the dreams started.

They started small at first, vivid dreams that Henrik would forget a few seconds after he woke up. He tried desperately to cling to the details, but in the end, all he could remember was a vivid shade of blue, so bright that it glowed. The dreams steadily turned even more vivid, on and on until Henrik could not only remember every detail, but he could realize that they weren't dreams at all. They were nightmares. Which was why, exactly a month after he arrived in France, Henrik was on the phone with Klaus, listening intently as his brother described what the Hollow was and what had happened since it first came into contact with Hope. It was a powerful spirit that had been lying dormant in New Orleans for years, stirred awake because of the civilians' desperation to be free of Marcel and the vampires. Henrik growing concern doubled when he learned that there was a house full of poisonous thorns, grown from Marcel's blood, that could possibly kill Klaus and Elijah.

Once Henrik had heard every little detail, he couldn't help saying, "Can you please tell me why in the hell none of you left that godforsaken city after Vincent saved Hope from that demon thing the first time?" While the question was framed nonchalantly, in truth he was unnerved. In all his years in New Orleans, he had never once heard of the Hollow. It was the city's best kept secret, a shame it never wanted out.

"The Hollow," Klaus corrected gruffly, making Henrik roll his eyes.

"I know what it's called," he said flatly, wincing when he heard the shower in the bathroom shut off. He had planned on getting off the phone before Francis got out, knowing he took long showers. He hadn't wanted him to worry, but he supposed it was inevitable. "Nik, is that city really worth it? Kill all your enemies there, blow up the house where the thorns are growing, leave the city in Vincent and Marcel's hands, and then enroll Hope in a nice school and let her have a normal life. If Marcel objects to the killing part, bring up Hope and the other children the Hollow tried to sacrifice. You know how he is with kids."

The bathroom door opened then. Henrik shared a brief glance with Francis, who had a towel wrapped around his waist and was scrubbing at his hair with another one. He was frowning at Henrik, having the misfortune of hearing only Henrik's side of things. When he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Henrik raised a finger to tell him to wait. Francis rolled his eyes and went to the walk-in closet, disappearing inside. Henrik held in a sigh.

"You don't sound concerned," Klaus said slowly. Henrik could hear the frown in his voice. Henrik picked at a loose thread in the comforter from his spot in the middle of the bed.

"That's because I'm not." That was a lie, of course. Henrik was always worried about his family, in one form or another. He just knew that if he showed his concern, it would make his family even more concerned, because they seemed to think his worry was some form of precognition. Perhaps it was. It was hard to tell, sometimes, where his worry started and his instincts began. "Death has come for us many times, Nik, and we've always managed to defeat it."