Immortals [Klaus Mikaelson]

50

"Because," she tucks her leg under her as she falls onto the couch, "you're under our protection. And trust me when I say that you'll be begging to stay here after what Elijah tells you."

"Can't you just tell me now?" I raise my eyebrow in annoyance.

She rolls her eyes, "God, you're no fun. He'll be here soon."

Her manicured fingers reach for the magazines on the coffee table. While she doesn't spare me another look, I continue to stare at her for a minute.

She looks like Elena, but an unhinged version. I know this is old news, but doppelgängers are the one piece of supernatural history that I have no experience with.

It's funny, though. Actually, more irritable than anything that both Elijah and Damon have fallen for such an annoying set. My two closest friends (despite current falling outs) have nearly fallen for the same woman. Granted, the differences are drastic, but somehow, they have both found ways to be the most irritating people on Earth.

"Stop staring," she groans, turning her body away from me. "You're freaking me out."

I stick my tongue out at her childishly, though she is already turned far enough away to miss it.

When she doesn't acknowledge me again, I travel farther into the cabin. The grand staircase at the center seems to divide one part of the house from the other, so I wander in the opposite direction of Katherine's prying eyes.

Everything looks relatively untouched. The kitchen is spotless, minus a stack of mail on one of the countertops. An unfamiliar name is printed on the sealed envelopes, meaning they probably are "borrowing" the estate during their stay.

There are two bedrooms and an office space just beyond the kitchen. I have nothing better to do than snoop, so I take a seat at the cluttered desk. It's the only thing in this house that isn't organized and clean, which makes me even more curious to figure out why.

Books upon books are stacked behind the oak wood desk and on top of it. But, after close examination, I realize that these aren't regular books at all.

They're grimoires.

I recognize some handwriting and prints of historical magic, but there are some legacy bindings as well. Bennett seems to be the name that is most consistent.

Beside the books are scattered papers and printed pictures of ancient symbols only my eyes would recognize. I pick up a paper with coffee stains. It reads, Remote Islands near Nova Scotia.

The picture underneath it immediately catches my eye. It's a person laying face down on pavement, but their exposed, gray skin is clearly that of a dead vampire. I don't look at that as much as I do the words scribbled in red on the bottom of the page.

String killings. The Five?

I pick up the next picture. It's similar, but this vampire has a stake through the heart.

Handcrafted stake, the red marker reads.

I continue on. I don't recognize the handwriting, considering I know what Elijah's looks like. If anything, the markings, messages, and circles are clearly the work of someone who pays the closest attention to detail.

That remains the case when I find a list of names, most of them I recognize. Bonnie Bennett, Stefan Salvatore, Niklaus Mikaelson, my own and more. Only two names are circled.

Bonnie and mine.

"What do you think you're doing?" Katherine snaps as a brush of wind signals her entrance. She pulls the paper from my hand and shreds it to pieces.