Shea Butter Baby// D.S

20

Chapter 20: Therapist by Day, Nympo at Night

Nala was so exhausted the following morning, she barely had half the sense to put her shirt on properly. Cold fingers rushed to scrape the sleep from the corner of her eyes, the little crusties flicking down her cheek. Her birds nest she called hair was surely needing a wash, there was no way she'd be able to revive it with any amount of product—there were knots from pulling and probably a few questionable wet spots that she ignored and shoved into a bun.

Damon was asleep.

Dark lashes long and fanning over the apples of his cheeks like gentle kisses. He was shirtless and loitered with hickeys that she spelled with the intent of defying his accelerated healing—he'd get a kick out of that when he woke up.

Holding her shoes, feet cloaked in silence with the aid of her fluffy socks and car keys wrapped securely in her five finger grip. Blowing him a kiss, she was off, prancing down the plethora of mahogany stairs until she was out the large front door and robotically drove home.

Her playlist barely made it through thirty seconds of a song before Caroline Forbes broadcasted proudly on the screen of her phone. A deep breath and a casual left turn, Nala answered. "Yes?"

"Are you and Damon together?"

"No, I'm on my way home."

The blonde scoffed through the phone. "I'm already inside, you won't believe Tyler, I can't believe Tyler. Get here quickly, I've already broken into your mini bar."

The screen went blank, the call abruptly ending and Nala couldn't even help but smile because even in her exhaustion she felt so normal having a friend already waiting at her home to spill endless rivers of tea. She didn't have anything like this back home; back in Louisiana the people were brisk, superficial and didn't often have her best interest at heart.

Nala remembered how dismal her high school years were, blending into the background as an attempt to stay under the radar of the gossiping girl and brutish bullying from the boys. Laveau wasn't a welcomed name back home, misconstrued stories of her ancestors being wicked, cruel stories about the kidnapping of small children that were traded over to dark spirits in return for everlasting life. It used to make her sick, how blatantly ignorant people could be, how the flicker of a flame could burn down a whole home—they burned down her reputation; sent her fleeing to another town she could call home.

Maybe she should thank them for their abuse, she thought as she turned her car into her driveway. Bouncing through the front door with excitement, Nala felt grateful to have a friend who accepted her no matter how little they really knew of her and her troubled past; they didn't need to, it was the past for a reason.

"Finally your here," The blonde celebrated with a shot of tequila, chasing with a lime and hastily handing over the same line-up for her latest arrival. "Take this while I give you the rundown."

Nala nods, hands reaching for the shot without another thought, the burn woke her up a bit and the way the lime settled on her tastebuds felt like the equivalent of three shots of espresso. "Do we hate him or are we defending him?"

Blue eyes slanted down, a thin arched brow raising as she pondered the question for far longer than a single minute. "We'll come back to that, I haven't decided yet." Caroline flicked her hair back and opened her backpack, pulling out a plethora of different colored binders, folders, sticky notes and highlighters—Nala laughed a little to herself about her friends OCD tendencies but waved it off when she asked what was funny. "Elena called and told me that Tyler almost got Jeremy killed, that Mr. Saltzman got hurt protecting him and Nala, I seriously don't know how many more times I can defend him. Like, how does he not see that Klaus is completely controlling him and using his as his little minion!"

         Caroline groaned, grabbing up a fluffy throw pillow and clutching it tightly to her chest like a lifeline, her ocean blues welling up with saltwater tears, her thin bottom lip quivering as her resolve started crumbling into fragile little pieces. "Help me."

         Nala pursed her lips. She blinked one, two, three times before abruptly standing from the bed she was sharing with the blonde. "Do you trust me?"

         "Why?"

         "Do you?"

         Caroline paused before nodding her head firmly. "Yes, I trust you."

          Nala extended a hand, the golden bangles of her bracelets cool against her warm skin. "Come with me."

          Tugging her along like two young children scrambling to go on a magical adventure. Down the hallway and up the attic stairs, Caroline was met with the intricately designed witches space, filled with candles and tarot cards, skulls and bones of all kinds. Herbs were lined up as far as she could see, all labeled with such delicate and curly handwriting. She drank in the room with gusto, careful to keep hands to herself, only peering as close as she felt necessary and no matter how hard it was to resist picking up the beautiful crystals and wax sealed jars filled with all sorts of foreign items. "It's so beautiful."

           "Thank you," Nala sheepishly replied, looking around her space as if she wasn't the one who'd organized it—put her blood sweat and tears into it. "Now, sit here and let me help you find some answers."

          Digging through a bookcase, brown eyes skimmed the titles, aware of what she was looking for and searching relentlessly until she found it. "Ah," She shouted in sharp surprise and happiness, a weathered red book tight in her gold ringed grip.

          Caroline took the book the moment it was within reach, the hardcover was rough to the touch, each page slightly crispy and more delicate than normal—a sign it was probably very old. "The Feminine Art of Seduction." A pointed glance was sent Nala's way, light blonde brows raising in question. "Are you sure about this?"

           "Klaus has a weird hold over your boyfriend, right? What better way to bring the odds back in your favor with some good old-fashioned manipulation with the female body." Nala rolled her eyes, sock covered feet patting softly against the hardwood floor. "Just read the book, okay? I know what I'm talking about here."

           Caroline stood up abruptly, using one hand to quickly fix her slightly disheveled hair. "I'm going to go read up and hopefully win back my boyfriend from an Original vampire."

           "Good luck!"

           The front door shut with a gentle slam, the voodoo witch gracefully rushing over to grab a vial, one made of glass and in the shape of a heart. Writing Caroline's name on paper, adding crushed rose petals and sugar, a tablespoon of honey and the dark red ashes that was powdered blood. Humming a small chant under her breath, lighting a rose colored candle and sealing the vialed closed forever— Nala meddled in her best friends love life shamelessly.

Shaking the bottle, the contents swirling inside in its own haphazard daze, Laveau smiled when she set it down on her shelf—proud of her work.

On the other side, her ancestors watched, arms crossed as they kissed their teeth in dissatisfaction. "Here she goes again. We should stop her."

Marie Laveau shook her head once, watching over her granddaughter with a careful eye. "Not yet, let her have her fun. If she hasn't learned her lesson from the last time, she will now. Just you wait."