Curse of Ravens // Mikaelson

25 Fear is a Weapon

I woke up late Saturday afternoon. But the time we arrived in New York close to three am and traveled from the airport to the Ravenson's home nearby to the Institute, the sun was already brightening the sky. It was more northern, so the sun rose earlier in the day. It reminded me of Europe. Still, when we arrived, the three of us completely passed out from exhaustion.

The guest room was large, too large for one person. I felt like I had rented a suite out in a hotel. There was a bathroom connected, so I showered when I woke and prepared for the day before exiting the room. The house was large, and I realize that mansion was probably a better term for it. It didn't compared to the Mikaelson estate in Mystic Falls or the compound in New Orleans. But it was similar to the beautiful Clan Hela home in Mystic Falls, which was the first place I met the Ravenson's parents.

I walked downstairs, in a dark blue Clan Hela styled shirt that was tighter around my arms and flowy everywhere else. My necklaces and pendants decorated the otherwise basic top. I wore basic black jeans, and had styled my hair into braids again.

"I hope you don't mind." A thick Russian accent touched my ears as I entered the massive kitchen. At a small table a few feet from the kitchen island, Alek Ravenson, the father, sat. I must have set my book down on the way into the house because he had it open and was reading some part of it.

"It's a collection of some of my favorite short stories, plays and poems by Russian artists." I gesture to the book. The older man smiled a little at me, and brushed his thumb across all the tabs I had marked pages with.

"You are very fond of Dostoyevsky and Pushkin." He observed.

"They are arguably as brilliant as Tolstoy." I reply, walking over to sit across from the warlock. "The Russian search for identity through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries yielded such beautiful literature. I would even argue it surpassed the Western world. Don't tell the French I said that." I joked. The warlock chuckled.

"You are rather sophisticated for your youth." He observed.

"I've traveled a lot, and growing up I spent more time with adults than people my age. I suppose it's a product of that." I admit. "I would recommend The Grand Inquisitor. It's a section from a broader book but the chapter is quite interesting, especially it's take on free will."

"Alice." I looked over as Anastasia caught my attention. She was also dressed and ready for the day. "I want to take you to my favorite cafe." She gestures for me to join her. I sent a little departing smile to her father, and followed the witch out of the door. We waited a couple minutes for Aleksandr to join us.

The Institute had its own district in New York. It seemed a little exaggerated to put it that way, but when I tell you every shop and cafe and restaurant in a couple mile radius outside the institute was witch or warlock owned, I was not exaggerating. The few humans who lived in the area were in the know, and they would have to be to live in the neighborhood.

The crowd was dense, because it would be the Canaan Festival this weekend and witches and warlocks from all over had flown in to attend. There would be Clan Hela witches from the Russian faction here, from the Chinese faction, and a variety of other countries as well as those scattered across the world on assignments. Witches and Warlocks who may be ambassadors in other notable covens, or part of the Clan's outreach programs.

And there would be Witch Catchers descending on this area in droves. I felt fear, every time a woman stared at me a little too long as we passed by on the street. But that fear was accompanied with a horribly delicious rush of excitement.

Monster was such a negative word but monstrous was the only word that came close to the feeling of that sick rush. Perhaps predatory was a close second. Among witches and warlocks, I was all-to-aware of my werewolf nature. The contrast was so striking. Clan Hela witches were no sheep, but when I walked among them, unnoticed, like I was one of them, I relished in the concept that I was the wolf.