Mikael's Little Necromancer.

5. Welcome to New Orleans (REWRITTEN).

Open Highway, Present:

The highway was busy which was to be expected. If circumstances were different it wouldn't have bothered the Viking as much. They could have set off earlier to New Orleans. However, Mikael had to pick a few things up for Henrik. Not much but very much essential. Henrik had been asleep for the past couple of hours in the back.

"Why was I asleep in the car?"

"You're awake at last my boy."

"My head is killing me and I'm sore all over," Henrik complained as he stretched his arms out as wide as he could.

"You were reckless in conjuring the three dead witches' spirits. You passed out not long after they left our world." Mikael explained not keeping his eyes off the road. The Necromancer sat up and caught sight of a few sandwiches and bottles filled with juice, on the second of the two backseats.

"Where are we going?"

"New Orleans, my boy," Mikael answered.

"Why am I always In the backseat?"

"The front passenger seat is for adults. Not children, Henrik."

"I haven't been a child for a long time," Henrik muttered before grabbing a sandwich, taking it out of its packaging, and taking small bites.

"You're my child boy,"

"How do you know what place my siblings called their second home?" Henrik asked before he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Nothing to concern your pretty little head with," Mikael replied intending to dismiss his son's curiosity.

"You tracked them down here," Henrik said, not surprised.

"In between my search for you, who decided to run away."

"I didn't run away I was handling some business." Henrik objected. "And I left a note."

"Ah, yes the note as I recall said Pa, I've decided to go for a walk. I'll be back soon."

"And I kept my word I was back soon."

"No, you were missing for three years until I found you. In a prison cell in France about to face the guillotine." Mikael said his voice showing a hint of lingering anger.

"I had a plan to escape it just got derailed a little," Henrik said with a small sigh it wasn't the Necromancer's fault that his guard decided he wasn't worth the risk.

"Be quiet and finish your sandwiches," Mikael replied he had grown tired of their conversation. The Necromancer turned his attention to said sandwiches he knew Mikael would never get over his trip to France.

New Orleans, Open Street, Afternoon Present:

"So what's the plan?" Henrik asked as he and the Original got out of the car. He was grateful to be able to stand and move instead of sitting down in a car for hours. 

"We find a hideout to give you time to cast a locator spell. My blood should suffice."

"Any idea where?"

"A couple of places yes," Mikael said.

"I need some supplies for the locator spell like candles."

"Witches and their candles." Mikael let out a sigh. "Stay close to me, New Orleans is not friendly to boys like you."

"Yes, sir." The two then set off to find the right stores to get what they needed.

It had only taken a few hours to pick up what was required for the locator spell. Henrik didn't solely want to depend on one kind of locator spell. Experience taught him there was no spell a witch shouldn't know. It was just too bad that the Necromancer wasn't as naturally gifted in witchcraft as Kol once was.  Witchcraft and Necromancers didn't mix well. Sure small acts of witchcraft were tolerable.