"Are you sure?" The girl—Leslie—stared at her with wide eyes, frantically shaking her head and America hoped the muscles in her face looked as apologetic as she wished them to be. "I—" The brunette hiccuped on a sob as she frantically shook her head. "Wait, wait!" The woman swayed where she stood, waiting as asked though a part of her—that part that was hungry and impatient—wondered why she ever bothered. "You're sick. Like," her voice trembled as she elaborated further on the statement, "you're really sick. Like p-pale and confused. 

"You're not w-well." America tilted her head at Leslie, a ghost of a frown tugging at her lips in her confusion. "I don't get sick." Leslie's brief laugh was hysterical and unintentional as she covered her mouth a moment later. "Sorry, sorry just. . . everyone gets sick. And if there was a mirror in this warehouse, you'd agree that you are sick." The onyx-haired woman furrowed her brows in deep thought, completely missing Stefan's shuttered look of annoyance until he moved forward. "And I was having so much fun."

He was going to kill Leslie she knew, and the girl herself knew too but America found that as tried to get her limbs to move, she couldn't do much more than sway on the spot. Her magic didn't respond either, feeling heavy and sluggish and the strength required was the strength she didn't have. "I can see that." Klaus intercepted Stefan before he could get past the woman, the vampire stopping short with a groan of annoyance. "You caught up pretty quickly." The man levelled the other with a look of exasperation.

"No thanks to you but your glamours started failing when—" Klaus paused, turning to look at the woman that barely seemed to recognize his presence. She had barely done so last night while she came to terms with what had happened but never did she appear as if she didn't even know he was there. "Eleanora?" Grasping her chin in a firm grip, the man grimaced at the traces of sickly sweetness that were drifting on the edge of his senses, almost overpowered by the heavy scent of blood. 

The woman was pale, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as a haze settled over her eyes. Her breathing was shallow and her heartbeat a little too fast, even for her, but she didn't seem present. Not as she stared right at him and yet didn't appear to register his presence. "She's sick." The two men glanced at Leslie who spared Stefan a hesitant glance before she met Klaus' gaze head-on. "It's weird because. . . she's not human but she is, in a way. She's septic." The vampire frowned as the hybrid furrowed his brows. 

"Septic," Klaus murmured, expression darkening as he turned to Stefan with a scowl, "you poisoned her?" The Salvatore huffed, rolling his eyes in the face of the man's aggression. "I didn't poison her. She poisoned herself, and I picked up on it after. Oops. What I want to know though is how she knew?" Stefan looked pointedly at Leslie who seemed slightly less afraid with Klaus' presence as he acted as a buffer between the unhinged vampire, the sick woman and what would be a somewhat premature death.

The young woman no older than 25 could only offer a shaky shrug. "I'm a nurse, I'm always around sick people and. . ," her eyes shifted uncertainly between them as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, "And I could smell it—the infection." Klaus' gaze sharpened as Stefan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're a werewolf." Leslie nodded, "Yeah, and very far from the full moon so this whole experience? Terrifying. I thought vampires couldn't compel werewolves either so when she said to follow, and I followed?

"Also terrifying." The men exchanged a glance as the eldest among the coherent trio pulled the absent woman near, frowning to himself as she didn't so much as blink in acknowledgement of the movement or proximity. "She's special. How did you know she was septic and not simply. . . ill?" Leslie gave a somewhat helpless shrug as more tension bled from her body. "I'm a travelling nurse. I've met what few septic werewolves there are and they had the same symptoms as humans and a little more.

Devil's Angel ° {K.M}[Rewriting]Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora