24 | The Unholy Mary

1 Year and 8 Months Later.

Niklaus Mikaelson sat on his desk in a room of their compound in New Orleans where the only light came from the street light peeking through the only open window. Frustration befell the original hybrid after setting down his paintbrush due to the lack of the perfect shade of red, temporarily abandoning the image he was painting on one of the pages of the book he was currently writing. There was always something about him and stories that allured him. Especially when the story involved a certain auburn haired vampire.

He stared at the small painting, making sense of his brush strokes. It was a painting of a village. It was night, the sky murky and grim. The grass was a darker shade of green than normal. And over those grasses, were bodies. Bloody bodies scattered all over one side and piled in another. Standing over all of them was a woman clad in a green dress, her hair a bright red—the wrong shade which ignited Klaus's frustration in the first place. Her face, her torso, her arms and hands were stained crimson. Her eyes were darker than the night itself. Each and every body had a mark brutally carved on their foreheads, a cross. The irony, Klaus once thought. The symbol of faith, love, promises, life, used in such a gruesome manner.

Klaus's eyes averted towards the two dead bodies of werewolves in the same room, staining the carpet with its crimson blood. He narrowed his eyes at them before taking a paintbrush, dipping it a little in brown paint before walking toward one of the deceased werewolves. He stuck the tip of the brush into its neck, the brown paint mixing with the crimson of its blood before Klaus stood up again and made his way back to his desk. He proceeded to stroke the page with the same brush, changing the color of the woman's hair from bright red, to a deep, rich auburn color. How it should be.

At the bottom of the page, just below the gory painting, was its title.

The Unholy Mary

• ─────────────── •

Things in the French Quarter of New Orleans weren't as they seemed. Yes, it was high-spirited. Yes, it was vibrant. Yes, it was stimulating. But all for the tourism money to come rolling in nonstop. Truth was, if one removed the innocent lenses as they viewed the soulful town, they'd notice the little things that disturb them. Like unnatural creatures walking among them.

But alas, not everyone was given the ability to take off those lenses. And so they continued to walk amongst the deadliest of creatures, none the wiser of what might happen to them come nightfall.

Davina Claire stood outside the record store, only to find it closed, much to her dismay. She knew why it was closed, she was there yesterday when the werewolves surrounded Joe Dalton, the store owner slash vampire who was found out. The Guerreras ruled this town now after they ran the vampires out of the city. And they aimed to keep this city vampire-free. So of course, when unfamiliar vampires came strolling into town, they were met with the finest werewolf welcome.

"Excuse me." Davina whipped around, snapping out of her thoughts when she was staring at the store. Turning around, there she saw a man with raven black hair and brown eyes, standing about 6 feet tall or more, a designer stubble embellishing his otherwise younger looking face, clad in simple white round neck shirt hidden in his brown leather jacket, simple denim jeans, and finishing it off with a pair of white sneakers.

"Hi." He said with a polite smile, regaining Davina's attention as he had noticed how she zoned out for a moment. The little witch blinked a couple of times to recover before she returned his smile.

"Hi. Sorry. It's been kind of a weird week." Davina said, even though it had been in fact a weird entire year.

The man simply laughed at the young woman's charming innocence. He placed a hand on his chest as he slightly bent forward, a habit he could not shake off when trying to introduce himself. "I'm Max."

"Davina." She introduced, her smile not leaving her lips. She seemed taken by the man, but she knew he was a few years older than her just by judging on how he looked and carried himself. No teenage boy would ever have this level of respect and politeness...perhaps even charisma.

Maxime smiled tight-lipped as he slightly bowed, another habit he could not get rid off. "It's a pleasure meeting you."

He was so respectable, Davina could not believe it. Somewhere inside her a voice was saying that he could not be that perfect.

"I just wanted to ask if—" Maxime was cut off when a man interrupted their conversation. A werewolf, to be precise.

"Vampire." The werewolf growled in animosity as if approached him.

Davina flickered her gaze between Maxime and the werewolf in confusion and skepticism. She saw the way Maxime rolled his eyes at the man before closing them and sighing deeply, the animosity clearly reciprocated.

"You're a vampire?" Davina took a step back. She did ask for it. She knew he was too perfect. Of course he was a vampire.

The werewolf was nearing them and before he could reach Davina or Maxime, someone from behind him grabbed his head and harshly snapped it to the side, breaking his neck and earning a gasp of surprise from the witch.

The limp body of the werewolf slumped forward and Maxime was quick to catch him. Behind the werewolf was a certain auburn haired vampire. She was wearing a white button up shirt with long sleeves, and over it was a black corset. The ends of both the shirt and the corset was tucked in on a pair of black slacks then matched it with red pumps, giving the entire outfit a splash of color like her rich brown-red waves.

"Are you serious?!" Maxime whisper-yelled, referring to the dead body of the werewolf he was still holding up. "We're in public!"

Mary furrowed her eyebrows at him before pointing at the body. "He was rude! He's lucky I didn't rip his heart out."

"He's still dead." He pointed out.

The former Scottish Queen's face contorted into a baffled one. "He is?"

Maxime widened his eyes at the woman, looking like he was going out of his mind at what his best friend just asked. His expression was enough to recover her from her moment of slowness, causing her to slightly gasp.

"Oh, right!" Mary gasped. "Werewolf. I'm such an idiot. I was so used to snapping vampire's necks. My bad."

The loyal knight of the former queen looked up and exhaled deeply in frustration. It was as if he had been dealing with that everyday. Which he was.

Mary averted her gaze toward the brunette witch and smiled. "Well, hello there. I'm Mary."

Davina adjusted her feet, fixing her posture at the mention of her name, making sure that she composed herself and would not at all look like she was intimidated, even if she slightly was.

"You're Mary Stuart." The witch noted.

The auburn haired vampire arched an eyebrow at her in amusement before a smile creeped its way to her red lips.

"My, my. You've heard of me." Mary said, fascinated.

"How can we not? You've been state-hopping, slaughtering witches in your path." Davina explained as she brought her gaze up and down the vampire, observing her behavior. "I knew it's only a matter of time before you find your way here."

"Well then, this makes it easier." Mary said, flickering her gaze for a moment toward Maxime who had just placed the body of the werewolf on the nearby bench. Now he just looked like he had a long, wild night. "If you could lead us to the rest of your French Quarter Coven, it will be much appreciated."

The witch folded her arms against her chest and held her head high. "I'm not part of their coven. I left."

Mary was starting to like the young woman more and more as she got to know her. "Rather bold of you, Davina...?"

"Claire." Davina answered.

"Davina Claire. A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady." Mary said, her old age peeking through how she was talking there. "Perhaps you could help me with something else."

The lone witch flickered her eyes between an entertained Mary and a careful Maxime as she waited for Mary to continue.

"I'm looking for some people. I'm sure you've heard of them." Mary narrowed her eyes at the witch while she anticipated her reaction. "Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson."

Davina almost groaned out loud.

• ─────────────── •

Klaus Mikaelson was accompanied by Hayley Marshall when they went back to the compound after making some witches suffer. Though, they found themselves not the only one targeting the French Quarter Witches. Upon entering the Mikaelson Compound, a huge trail of blood was ahead of them, like a bloody body was being dragged inside. That same body was now beside the fountain situated in the middle of the compound.

"What the hell is this?" Hayley muttered as she followed another trail of blood, only this time, it was in the form of footprints. A pattern that could only be seen from the soles of high heels.

Behind them, Elijah just arrived with the same confused expression as he observed the state of the place. There wasn't only one body in sight. There was a lot, just scattered in their compound.

"Is this who I think it is?" Elijah stated as he stopped beside Klaus.

The bodies of the witches had their foreheads carved. A symbol of cross on each of their flesh. A signature of one of the very few family friends that they had.

"The queen is visiting." Klaus answered.

The three stalked the trail of bloody footprints, going up the steps and toward the room Klaus considered his studio. Entering the room, their eyes landed on the auburn haired vampire who made herself comfortable in Klaus's chair, her feet propped up on the table which gave them a clear view of her bloodied heel soles as she leaned back and pleased herself by reading Klaus's on-going book.

"'She was the very example of beauty in horror. The epitome of unholiness, a sin made flesh, taking the form of a goddess that even the devil himself began praying to her.'" Mary recited, reading a passage from the book her friend wrote. Then she turned to look at Klaus who stood between Hayley and Elijah just past the doorway. "Nik, you flatter me."

Mary closed the book and placed it back down on the desk before she settled her eyes on them.

"Though, if I'm gonna have someone write my biography on my post-humanity, I'd hire dear Elijah here." She added, looking at the well-suited original among them.

Then she looked back at Klaus who seemed to be still surprised that the person he considered his best friend, who was gone for over a year on a rampage that killed an alarming number of witches, was now sitting in his studio.

"For what it's worth, you paint way better than you write." Mary pointed out.

Elijah, with one his hands tucked inside the pocket of his dress pants, stepped forward while he narrowed his eyes at the former queen. "You've returned."

"I have." Mary answered.

"And you've...taken it upon yourself to lay out your own special red carpet?" The vampire in the classy suit noted, referring to the trail of blood downstairs.

"Someone had to." She dropped her feet to the ground before standing up and walking around the desk to approach them. "I expected a brighter and warmer welcome for your close friend and should-have-been sister-in-law."

The former queen stopped just a few feet in front of them with her hands clasped in front of her and her lips curled into a smile. Hayley gazed at her up and down, taking in her features as she realized who it was standing before her.

"You're Mary." She stated.

Mary raised an eyebrow at the brunette hybrid before her smile widened. "Wow. Everyone seems to be very well educated around here. You must be the werewolf Nik got pregnant."

The former queen stared the hybrid down and Hayley simply clenched her jaw, not letting herself be intimidated by Mary. She heard about what happened to their baby. It was tragic. And a very sensitive subject not just for Hayley and Klaus but for Mary as well. Which was why she didn't bring it up. The vampire was only able to peel her gaze away from Hayley when Klaus finally spoke to her.

"Little fox, the last we heard you were across the country maiming yet another coven of witches." He stated. He arched an eyebrow at the auburn haired vampire as he continued. "You've made quite a name for yourself, once again."

"The Unholy Mary is barely a good name. Sounds biblical." She said, rolling her eyes before turning to make her way toward a table with three bottles of whiskey and a crystal glass.

"Which was the exact opposite of what you were going for?" Klaus responded while he approached the woman pouring herself a drink.

"Don't judge, Nik. I've done nothing worse than you have." The auburn haired replied before she turned around and faced them, taking a sip from the glass of whiskey she was holding delicately in her hand.

"What, pray tell, do you expect to gain in massacring all the witches you acquaint yourself with in every city you pass? Where's Maxime and Cordelia?" Elijah asked. The woman that was standing before him was far from who she was when they last saw each other, which was the night Elena was killed.

Back then, she still had the decency to hide her wickedness. Lately, she didn't have a care in the world and simply flaunted her wrongdoings for the whole world to watch.

"Cordelia went back to Mystic Falls to mentor her dear distant relative Bonnie Bennett. I didn't bother driving her there, I might accidentally murder the Gilberts. I'm still planning the perfect death for them. Maxime, well, he's taking a stroll around the city. As for your first question, that would be my business only." Mary explained. She tilted her head back to down her whole drink before placing the glass back on the table.

Maxime had taken an oath to remain by Mary's side no matter the cost. But his oath was altered when her life stretched to an eternity. And so they remedied that.

"Now that this conversation is out of the way, I'll catch up more with you lot later. Max and I plan to meet up at that bar down the street. Rousseau's, is it?" The former queen stated.

The auburn haired vampire clicked her bloodied heels against the floor as she walked out of the room, leaving the three stunned about the woman's sudden and unannounced appearance in their home.

Meanwhile, Kaleb Westphall was walking down the street, casually tossing an apple repeatedly in his hand when his blue eyes landed on the redhead vampire leaving the compound. He briefly stopped his tracks at the sight of the woman. Suddenly, he felt like he was hit by a truck. He had been eager to see her for a while.

Kaleb gripped the apple in his hand as he began to walk again when he was beginning to lose sight of Mary, walking further away from him. He was following her down the street, walking past strangers, quickening his pace in fear of losing her. Just the mere sight of her back as she walked was heaven enough.

But suddenly, she vanished. Kaleb stopped, conflicted at how he managed to lose sight of her when he was so careful not to take her eyes off of her—not that it was difficult to keep them off her, she was eye-catching, mesmerizing. It was impossible not to look at her. And he was beyond frustrated that she managed to slip off.

"Stalking women is not very polite." Kaleb whirled around at the sound of a woman's voice behind her.

There he met the deep brown eyes of Mary Stuart as she stood before him. Just being in her presence intoxicated him. Her eyes were enthralling, he could stare at them for hours. Her hair fell in beautiful silky and subtle waves of rich auburn. Just the mere thought of touching them felt ethereal. Her red stained lips looked so full and soft that he imagined himself dying a happy man with just a kiss. And don't even get him started on her body. Her figure was so alluring, his mind was quickly corrupted with inappropriate thoughts.

"Neither is staring at them." Mary added when she noticed him staring at her as he zoned out, her forehead creasing at him.

Kaleb blinked a couple of times as an embarrassed laugh escaped my lips. "Apologies. I just haven't seen a pretty little thing like you around here. I'm Kaleb."

The young man offered his hand toward her, trying his best to make his charm work on her. But the vampire simply stared at his hand before she spoke.

"And I'm spoken for." Mary simply said before she began to walk around him and away.

The rejected man had no choice but to turn around and once again watch her as she walked away from him. But despite the rejection, a wide smile stretched on his lips. He could not be happier and prouder...

"That's my girl." He muttered.

...As Kaleb Westphall was actually the person whom she loved. An original vampire named Kol Mikaelson.

• ─────────────── •

Been a long time, my loves. But part two has finally begun!

I'm telling you right now, part two will be darker. I'm not even kidding. There were times when I had to stop and reflect because I'm starting to think I have the mind of a psycho. I'm also not kidding about part two's title Ode to the Star-crossed. At this point, they've probably faced every obstacle in existence. But this is going to be fun!

I hope you liked the start of this chapter!