White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Six

1822 — New Orleans, Louisiana

   All that Eleanor could hear was chanting and the crackling of fire. The chanting was strong, almost deafening to her ears. She thought that maybe if she shut her eyes tight, the chanting would lower in volume, but, it didn't. It only became louder, and that was when she slowly opened her eyes. There was a fire in front of her, bright and warm, but it brought a chill down her spine. It could have been the fire, but it also could have been that her dress was ripped to pieces and she was covered in blood. 

   Standing by the fire stood a woman, her face glowing as her hands moved over the black cauldron atop the fire. Her mouth moved, and that was when Eleanor noticed that the chanting came from her. She was loud, staring at the dark sky with closed eyes. Besides the woman, men and woman stood tall, all of them quietly chanting with her and playing instruments that brought another chill to the young fledgling's back.

   "What are you doing?" Eleanor asked, panicking. She tried to pry open the shackles that were holding her against the tree, but she had no strength. Her strength was gone, and she felt weaker than ever before. She felt as if she had been running for years, as if she could no longer lift her arms or any other part of her body. "Where am I? What are you doing?"

   The chanting stopped, but the drumming continued. The woman that had been standing by the cauldron lowered her arms and slowly moved to the young fledgling. When Eleanor's eyes adjusted to the small bit of light, she gasped. Standing in front of her was Nanette Passebon, the voodoo queen of New Orleans—as Rebekah called her—with a wicked smirk around her lips. She slowly leaned down and grabbed the fledgling by the chin, making her look up. "You're not an original, but you'll do just fine," she said, a wicked tone to her voice.

   "What do you want with me?" Eleanor asked, swallowing hard. "I'm nothing, no one!"

   "You're right," Nanette agreed, walking back to the fire. "You are nothing, but you are someone. According to my little ears, you are very important to the Mikaelson's."

   "Important?" Eleanor softly uttered, her brows furrowing in confusion. She had never thought to be someone important to the Mikaelson's, especially since she was just low-life girl given the gift of eternity thanks to her mother. Someone? No, Nanette was wrong. Eleanor was no one.

   "Especially to that Klaus," Nanette continued, chuckling. "The importance a simple low-life like you has to that Original is fascinating. Here I thought that that man only enjoyed power, but then you came along." She moved to a golden box that was adorned with golden bells, and smiled as she opened it. Slowly, she pulled out a black snake that resembled coal with the fire brightening its dark scales. The snake liked her cheek several times, making the woman to grin. Nanette passed the snake to the man standing next to her, which Eleanor hadn't noticed till he grabbed the snake. The man did the same thing with the snake, allowing it to lick his cheek. He laid the snake back on the box, lifted it, and began to shake it as the drums echoed around Eleanor. The bells began to jingle along with the drumming, creating a rhythm that was accompanied by chanting.

   Eleanor felt hypnotized, as if she could focus on nothing else except the rhythm of the bells, the drums, and the chanting. It was as if they were far; they couldn't be, she was standing merely a few feet away from them. She began to panic more, her breathing ragged as she tried to break the shackles that held her against the tree.

   Nanette began to chant once again, louder, her hands thrown to the air. As she chanted, she began to take offerings from the people around her. To the boiling cauldron, she threw in two live chickens, three pigeons, a live cat, and several worms. As she continued to chant, a man clad in only loin clothing began to dance around the fire. He was wild, whirling his arms, spinning around and around as the people around him chanted "li grand zombi". Minutes later, the whirling dancer collapsed from exhaustion, and the others began to dance. They stopped intermittently to drink from the cauldron, and then the whirling dance would begin.