CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SPIRAL TO HELL

"The descent into Hell is easy."

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     "We should probably get out of bed."

"Should we?" Francis asked, trailing his lips down Henrik's neck and nibbling at his collarbone. Henrik let out a pleased sound, one of his hands fisting the sheets while the other tangled into Francis's hair. "Should we really? I quite like it here." Henrik huffed out a laugh and tugged at Francis's hair, bringing his face up to plant a kiss on his lips. He didn't think he would ever get bored of kissing Francis. Whether the kisses were slow or fast, hard or soft, deep or little pecks, they would never stop feeling euphoric. Henrik released the sheets and used his other hand to cup his cheek. A small laugh, coming scarily close to a giggle, left Francis's mouth. He was smiling when Henrik kissed him again. Henrik couldn't help laughing into his mouth in response.

"What's so funny?" Henrik asked, smiling as he pulled away. Francis pressed his head back against the pillow and brought a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the giggles still bubbling up his throat. Henrik had never seen him giggle before, and he couldn't help but stare, completely entranced, as Francis tried to stop them. Henrik, after a moment, smiled and leaned down to press a kiss against Francis's bicep, hand sliding across his bare stomach as he went to cuddle against his side. "You're cute," he added, words muffled against his skin.

"I'm just happy, that's all," Francis said, once his laughter had subsided and Henrik had settled against him with his head on Francis's shoulder. His eyes drooped when he felt fingers shift through his hair. Henrik made an appreciative sound and pressed himself closer, turning his head to press a kiss against his skin. Their legs were tangled together, their hands linked on top of Francis's stomach. Francis was playing with his fingers.

"I love your laugh," Henrik murmured, eyes finally slipping closed. "Have I ever told you that? It's just so pretty. Like you." Francis made an odd sound then, something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a whine, like he didn't know how exactly to react to the praise. Henrik pried his eyes open and raised his head to look at Francis, only to see that his cheeks were flaming red, and he had turned his head away from Henrik, as if to hide it. Henrik let out a soft laugh. At the sound, Francis pulled his hand out of Henrik's and placed it over his face, letting out a small groan.

"Stop it," he ordered, making Henrik laugh harder.

"Your praise kink is getting out of hand." Henrik sat up a little bit more. "I'm astounded that I didn't even know you had one until last night. I could have been humoring you this entire time, too—"

"Henrik," Francis said, more fervently, and Henrik decided to stop with his teasing. Instead, he pulled Francis's hand away from his face and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Francis couldn't stop himself from smiling as Henrik pulled away. He reached up to cup Henrik's cheek, so he stayed where he was, hovering over Francis. He felt a thumb run gently against his cheek. "Darling, can I ask you something?" Henrik raised his eyebrows.

"Course you can, lovely," Henrik said immediately, and then Francis was sitting up, and Henrik was going with him. He took a moment to center himself, blinking rapidly at the sudden change in position, before looking at Francis, who was turning so that he could face Henrik directly. Henrik waited in patient silence as Francis gathered his thoughts.

"My sister's name is Haewon," Francis said eventually, speaking slowly as he searched Henrik's face. "I'm sure you've realized by now that Francis Choi isn't my real name—or, rather, it's not the name I was born with. I suppose it's my real name now, since it's what I prefer, but still. Why have you never asked what my birth name is?" Henrik blinked at him, surprised. The truth was that it didn't really bother him whether Francis ever told him his birth name or not. It didn't seem very important, and he knew everything he needed to know about Francis already.

"I just figured that you'd tell me if you wanted to," Henrik said honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't mind waiting, and I didn't mind not knowing, either. I still don't, actually. It was never something I bothered thinking too much about. Not because I don't care, but because I assumed if it was truly important to you, then you would tell me eventually." Francis absorbed those words, his expression softening with each passing second. By the time Henrik was finished, he was smiling.

"It's Yeongho," Francis said after a moment, his voice soft. "I'm not telling you because it's all that important to me. It's really not, it reminds me of my human life, but I just—I want you to know it anyway." Henrik thought about changing the subject then, because the mention of his human life had Francis's face darkening in a way Henrik didn't like at all, but he changed his mind. Francis was the one who brought the subject up. Henrik knew him well enough to know that it was an invitation to ask as many questions as he liked.

"Why did you change it?" he asked, his voice gentle. Francis grimaced and averted his gaze, then let out a soft sigh.

"Tristan was the one who turned me. Did I ever tell you that?" A cold chill went down Henrik's spine when he heard that, his eyes widening slightly. When Francis glanced at him, he could do nothing but give a small shake of his head. Francis gave him a small, if slightly bitter, smile. "God only knows why he was in Korea, but he found me after I got stabbed for stealing food. He had been watching me steal a bunch of things before that, said he was impressed with my skill. Said I had potential." That explained why he was a spy for the Strix, then. Henrik had always avoided asking how he became one, and about who had turned him. "Anyway, after he turned me—and after Haewon was turned by me—he took me back to France. At the time, the name change was just...convenient. It made getting official documents easier and I didn't have to deal with assholes pretending they couldn't pronounce my name. But after a while, I got attached to it, so I never bothered going back."

"And you didn't want to remember what your human life was like," Henrik added gently, because he certainly hadn't forgotten that little detail. Francis's mouth twisted, but he nodded. Henrik nodded with him. "I get it, wanting to separate yourself from any trauma you experienced when you were human by ridding yourself of something. Even if it's just a name, it's enough."

"What did you rid yourself of, darling?" Francis asked softly. The change in subject was subtle, but not subtle enough for Henrik not to notice it. He didn't bother steering the conversation back. Francis clearly didn't want to go into details about what he was trying to separate himself from. Henrik wasn't going to press, and he didn't mind the question directed at him, anyway.

"I didn't really rid myself of them, I just ignored them," Henrik clarified. "But for the longest time I thought resurrection was wrong, even evil. It wasn't until recently, with Kol, that I started thinking a little differently. It stills makes me sick thinking about doing it myself, but I don't mind others doing it so much anymore. And the other thing, well..." He trailed off, picturing sharp teeth and yellow eyes and glinting claws.

"Werewolves," Francis finished for him, and Henrik could only nod, his voice lost. Francis reached for his hand. Henrik watched him lace their fingers together, then glanced up and gave a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me," he whispered. Francis didn't respond with words. He simply kissed the back of Henrik's hand and closed his eyes for a second, savoring the moment. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when Francis's phone started ringing, loud and obnoxious in the peaceful silence. Francis flinched, the sharp sound grating at his sensitive eardrums, while Henrik scowled and glared at his phone on the bedside table. Francis placed one last kiss on Henrik's hand, this time to placate him, before he twisted and reached for the phone, swiping across the screen quickly and pressing it to his ear. Henrik, huffing in annoyance, flopped back down on the bed and buried his face into a pillow.

"What?" Francis demanded, not bothering to be polite or cheerful. He didn't like being interrupted anymore than Henrik did. Henrik turned his head slightly to look at him with one eye, watching his face shift from annoyance to confusion. "Now? It's barely past eight. This couldn't wait until later? I'm busy." Francis listened for a moment, and then his face became even more confused. He even straightened a little. When he spoke, his voice took a serious tone it lacked before. "What kind of meeting?"

Henrik sat up then, frowning in confusion as well. The only meeting Francis would have to go to would be Strix-related, and the only person who could currently call a Strix meeting was Marcel. He was still grieving Davina. The fact that he would call a meeting at all so soon after her death was concerning, to say the least.

"I'm just asking because I'm confused," Francis said suddenly, voice sharp in sudden annoyance. Henrik watched him, feeling curious. He'd never seen Francis really work before, not unless he was actively guarding Henrik, and that didn't really count. Francis hadn't taken that job seriously at all, proven by the fact that he had let himself get caught the first day on the job because he was bored. It was interesting, seeing him take it seriously now. "He's never called a mandatory meeting before, and he certainly hasn't had someone else hand out the message for him. Forgive me if I find that a little strange." More silence. Francis huffed out an impatient breath through his nose and threw his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet. Henrik watched with mild disappointment as he went to his dresser and searched for clothes. "Fine. I said fine. I'll be there. Might be a little late, but I'll be there."

Hearing those words, Henrik's stomach suddenly twisted and dropped, the oxygen rushing from his lungs. The feeling was so sudden and wrong that for a moment, he couldn't even breathe, let alone speak. He could only watch in stunned, slightly horrified silence as Francis pulled jeans up his legs and buttoned them at his waist.

"Marcel called a mandatory Strix meeting," Francis was explaining. He was turned away from Henrik, looking for a clean shirt, so he didn't see his pale expression or his wide eyes. "I'm sorry, darling, but I'll be back as soon as I can and then we can—"

Henrik finally found his voice, and he immediately said, "Don't go."

Francis stopped and turned toward him, a shirt in hand. He frowned when he saw Henrik's expression, approaching the bed and sitting down slowly, searching his face. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong," Henrik explained. "Something awful is going to happen today. I didn't feel it until you said you were leaving, and I—" Henrik stopped and placed a hand over his stomach, taking a deep breath to settle the sudden swarm of anxiety there. "Francis, please trust me. Don't go."

"I trust you with my life, Henrik," Francis whispered, voice so incredibly gentle that, for a moment, Henrik found himself completely calm. And then Francis continued talking, and he wasn't very calm anymore. "But I can't just ignore a mandatory Strix meeting. No, darling, listen to me." Henrik had opened his mouth to argue with him, but he stopped when Francis cupped his face and begged him to listen. "They don't tolerate insubordination, however small. If I make even one mistake, there'd be a bounty on my head, one that not even Marcel can save me from. After the last few days, I'm not very sure he'd even try. I can't risk it."

"Francis, something awful is going to happen today," Henrik repeated, his voice little more than whisper now. Francis let out a soft sigh.

"Darling, you know how I am when I sense danger," he said after a moment, attempting to sound amused. It fell flat. Henrik's sudden fear was making Francis incredibly unnerved. "I either fight or I run. I promise you that I'll run this time." Henrik frowned at that.

"I'm not sure if that's comforting," he admitted. Francis grimaced.

"It's the best I can give right now," he murmured, thumb brushing against Henrik's bottom lip. His gaze was soft, his brown eyes nothing but warm and open. Henrik didn't want him to leave. He wanted him safe and alive, and Henrik wasn't sure he would be either if he left the apartment. "Henrik, I'll come back to you. I promise."

"I told you how I felt about promises like that," Henrik said, frowning even more. "They're never kept."

"You're such a pessimist," Francis said in slight exasperation, leaning forward to press a kiss against the corner of Henrik's mouth. Henrik softened when he did, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Alright, fine. I won't be pessimistic this time. You'll definitely come back to me—but if you don't, I'll never forgive you, and you know what I'm like when I'm unforgiving." Francis grimaced at that, then smiled and tilted his head.

"That I do," he said warmly. "I would never risk it."

Henrik tried to smile then, tried to enjoy the kiss Francis pressed to his lips, but he couldn't, not when lead was weighing down his stomach and fear was closing up his throat.

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Henrik got home to his siblings frantically collecting every single weapon in the compound. He stopped in his tracks when he saw all the stakes, in particular, and watched in astonishment as Kol distributed a crossbow onto the table. "We have a crossbow?" Henrik demanded as he walked closer to the table and picked it up with both hands. "When the bloody hell did we get this?"

"Does it matter? We have it," Kol said quickly, too busy shifting through the weapons to glance up at Henrik. There was a frantic energy to Kol that hadn't been there since he was resurrected. Henrik wondered if Davina was able to calm that restlessness in his brother, and immediately pushed the thought aside. It was too early to start feeling so nauseatingly sad. Kol started loading wooden stakes into the crossbow as he continued talking. "Where have you been?"

"I was with Francis," Henrik said, confused. His entire family had known where he was, Henrik had made sure of that, especially since they were all on edge lately. All of them knew that their problems hadn't ended with Lucien's death. "I turned my phone off last night. What's going on?" Kol stopped for a moment, frozen, before he slowly lowered the crossbow and looked up at Henrik with wary eyes. Henrik felt a wave of unease and shifted on his feet. "What is it, Kol?"

"Marcel is dead," Kol said quietly, gentle in a way Henrik hadn't heard in a long time. Henrik blinked slowly at him. He didn't feel shock or grief. He just felt overwhelmingly confused.

"What?" he asked. Kol sighed.

"Vincent found a way to extract the serum from Aurora's body. He gave it to Marcel, and—well, long story short, Elijah pulled his heart out of his chest last night to prevent him from taking it. I tried calling to tell you, but as you said, your phone was off." Henrik opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, completely bewildered.

"No. No, that's not possible," he started, sounding just as confused as he felt, just to stop when he saw Kol's expression soften with pity. A scowl immediately twisted Henrik's mouth. "Don't look at me like that, Kol. I'm being serious. Marcel can't be dead. It's literally impossible. He just called a Strix meeting—" Too late, Henrik realized what had happened. His eyes widened in alarm, and all the blood seemed to leak from his face. Kol was mirroring his horrified expression, because he seemed to realize what Marcel had done the same time Henrik did. "We need to leave. We need to leave right now." Kol nodded and immediately went to collect their siblings, while Henrik fished his phone out of his pocket with shaky hands and quickly went to Francis's contact. He was trembling by the time he escaped into an abandoned study and started pacing.

"Pick up the fucking phone, Francis," he muttered to himself, hearing it ring and ring and ring. "Pick up." It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He just needed a small reassurance. That was all. Yet when the ringing stopped and Henrik got nothing but Francis's voicemail, panic started setting in. He went to call again, desperate. Maybe he was overreacting. Marcel wouldn't hurt Francis, would he? He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that to Henrik. He wouldn't.

He was so upset that he didn't notice the presence in the room with him until it was too late. He turned at the last second, but wasn't fast enough to deflect the knife before it slid into his chest. He stared at the handle in shock, unable to feel anything besides surprise, before his knees buckled beneath him.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a blur of a body hurrying toward him.

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He woke up inside of a penthouse. The table in front of the couch, where he was laying, was covered in a fine layer of dust. Henrik sat up slowly, looking around him in confusion. He went to stand, but stopped when a wave of dizziness swept through him. He fell back into the cushions, a hand coming up to his head, which was pounding in time with his heartbeat. His stomach was twisting with nausea. He felt sick. His hand went to his stomach. He stopped when he felt something wet, pulling his hand away to see blood smeared across his fingers. He looked down at his chest, only to see a lot of blood and a tear in his shirt where the knife went through.

"What happened?" he asked, and then finally realized he wasn't alone in the penthouse. Freya and Hayley were practically tearing the place apart, throwing things on the floor when they found things that were useless. They both stopped when Henrik spoke, turning to hurry toward him. It was Freya who worried him. Her face was alarmingly pale, and there was a cut on her neck that looked dark around the edges.

"Marcel happened," Freya explained as she bent over him and started fussing. "You didn't die, just lost a lot of blood. You passed out before Hayley got to you, but she fed you her blood and brought you here in the chaos." Henrik blinked slowly and reached up to touch Freya's neck, though making sure not to touch the actual cut. Freya grimaced. "I was poisoned. We're looking for a cure, but we're coming up very emptyhanded."

"Something's wrong with me," Henrik admitted, dropping his hand. He had meant to get up to help, but he knew without even trying that he would never be able to stand on his own. "I feel sick." Hayley bent down and pushed his hair out of the way, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. Henrik let her, too tired to argue about them babying him.

"You have a fever," Hayley said, pulling her hand away. Freya disappeared for a few moments, coming back with a wet washcloth. She started pressing it to his face and neck, trying to cool him down. "Maybe the knife was poisoned?"

"You healed me," Henrik pointed out. "I should be fine now. The poison should be gone." Blinking slowly, Henrik's eyes narrowed in on the cut on Freya's neck. He let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Unless, of course, they used the same poison they used on Freya."

"I don't think they did," Hayley whispered, reaching into her boot and pulling out the knife that had stabbed through Henrik's chest. "I noticed the weird markings and thought it'd be better to bring it along." She handed it to Henrik without another word. Henrik didn't have to look over the entirety of it before he sighed and let it slip from his fingers. It clattered against the floor. Freya flinched when it came dangerously close to Henrik's foot.

"It's a cursed weapon," he explained, bending to put his head in his hands. His stomach was churning. He had to focus to keep himself from gagging. "To deplete the magic of a witch. People used to get a kick out of getting witches to use the knife while practicing blood magic. Just a cut on the palm would do."

"Will the curse go away with time?" Freya asked. Henrik shook his head.

"It's a curse for a reason." Henrik paused to cough, pressing a palm to his mouth until the fit went away. He could feel his body growing weaker by the second. A shiver went through him. "My body can't regenerate over and over if my magic keeps getting weaker. Freya, I might not wake up if I die like this." Admitting it was hard, but not as hard as it was to keep the sudden urge to vomit down. He took a deep breath.

"Perfect," Freya sighed. "Not only do we have to find a cure for my poison, but we also have to find a cure for you." She winced after she said it, but Henrik understood her frustration. They didn't have time to find both. "I can do something to make the fever go down." Henrik shook his head.

"No. I'll be fine for now, and you need to save your strength." Freya gave a slow, if reluctant, nod and got up to keep searching. Henrik watched her for a moment, then turned his head to look at Hayley. "Hayley, have you heard from Francis? At all?" Her tense silence was answer enough. Henrik bit down on his bottom lip. "Do you have a map?"

"You need to save what little magic you have left, Henrik," Hayley said immediately. Henrik frowned.

"I just need to know if he's alive. Please." Hayley stared at him for a long time, warring with what was logical and what Henrik wanted to do. Eventually, her heart won over her mind, and she went to collect a map of the city. She spread it out on the coffee table, and Henrik stripped the bracelet Francis had given him from his wrist. He took the necklace he was wearing off, too, and used it as a makeshift pendant, mumbling the spell under his breath. It wasn't long until the necklace pointed directly at Lafayette Cemetery. A rush of air left Henrik's lungs, and he slumped back on the couch, relieved.

"Thank god," he whispered, more to himself than to Hayley, who was hovering over him protectively. "He's—" He never had a chance to finish his sentence. His entre body spasmed, and then something was rising up his throat. It was only thanks to Hayley that he didn't puke all over himself. She had pulled a small waste basket over to the couch. Henrik wondered how green in the face he was before to warrant the action. He was grateful for it now. When he was done, he was alarmed to see that he had vomited blood.

"So no more magic for you," Hayley decided, pushing the waste basket away and pushing him back against the couch cushions. "Got it?" Henrik could only nod. She spent the next few minutes fussing over him. It was a little odd, since he and Hayley had such an unpredictable relationship, but he let her do it.

He was about to ask where his other siblings were when the doors to the penthouse burst open, and Klaus and Elijah came in, with Kol hanging between them.

"Freya!" Klaus shouted. "Henrik!" Henrik didn't have the strength to do anything more than sit up as Elijah and Klaus dropped Kol onto the other couch. He was struggling. Henrik frowned when he saw the bite mark on Kol's neck. He went to stand, even though he knew he couldn't by himself, and ended up falling back into the cushions with a low, pained groan.

"I'm going to die!" Kol was saying, which was technically true, though Henrik didn't think it would be anytime soon. He took comfort in that, at least. Finn survived the entire ride back from Mystic Falls, which was nearly fifteen hours long. Kol and Elijah had the rest of the day. As Henrik thought it over, he watched as Freya went to comfort Kol.

"You're not going to die," she said, sounding slightly exasperated. Kol had a habit of overexaggerating things, and Henrik got the feeling he was doing the same thing now. He didn't doubt he was in pain, as he and Elijah both were covered in a fine layer of sweat, but Henrik didn't think it warranted Kol's panic just yet.

"That sounds familiar," Kol spit out, wincing. His body spasmed, and it made Henrik finally think that perhaps Kol was having a harsher reaction to the venom in the bite than Elijah was. "Isn't that what you said to Finn? And Cami?"

"Cami isn't dead," Henrik said quietly, just to remind them all that Marcel's bite wasn't necessarily a death sentence anymore. If only he hadn't been cursed. If only he was at his full strength. He could've put Kol and Elijah into a comatose state by now, then gotten to work curing Freya. Though, he thought perhaps that was the point of cursing him in the first place. Marcel had wanted him out of the way, too weak to come to the rescue.

Marcel didn't know Henrik's entire body was made of magic. He didn't know that the curse would deplete every little thing inside of Henrik until there was nothing left. He didn't know the curse could actually kill him. At least, Henrik hoped he didn't.

"Look, Lucien engineered a cure from the seven wolf packs," Klaus said quickly as he helped Freya try to calm Kol down. "Henrik said that was the key to the cure." Henrik sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the couch. His head was still pounding, and his eyelids felt like they were made out of lead. He wanted to go to sleep. Perhaps he would feel better if he took a nap.

"It is," he murmured, not even noticing when his words slurred together. His siblings did, though, and they all paused to give him startled looks. It was Hayley who reached him first, securing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him until he pried his eyes open. He swatted her away, though the movement was slow and weak. He couldn't remember ever feeling so drowsy. Blinking slowly, he added, "But it's not like I have my grimoire with me, Hayley."

"Oh, great," Freya sighed. "That's the first piece of a puzzle none of us will be alive to solve. I'm poisoned, Rebekah's hexed, Henrik is cursed, and our brothers are bitten. We need four different cures for four different ailments, each of which could take years to solve, and none of us will make it through the day."

The only sounds after that was Kol's pained groans and Henrik's coughing.

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edited: 7.4.18