Valor | Marcel Gerard

Chapter 4

The Compound was even nicer in the daylight.

"I'd fix a few things, but I must say this is a nice place," said Andra, examining the stairwell railing as they ascended to what was now (or had always been, technically) Klaus's study. "Once you get past the family crests stamped everywhere." She looked over her shoulder, saying sarcastically, "If only I had any inkling who lives here!"

Marcel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think everyone believes the Mikaelsons are full of themselves."

"Hell, I'd be too with that reputation. Though, I think I'd have more portraits of myself. I'm surprised there's only one painting of Klaus."

"That you know of."

She smiled wryly as the hybrid appeared behind them, on the upper railing. "Well, I didn't exactly get a grand tour of the place. Care to take me on one? Preferably with a pit stop in your bedroom."

He didn't smile back. "Come in."

They followed him into the study. "Marcel tells me you're an acquaintance," said Klaus, standing by his own personal bar (really, Andra would love one of those) as Andra settled comfortably on the couch, looking out the window. "One who provides him information about the happenings of the city."

"Yes, I do," said Andra. "Given the change in leadership, he thought it was best to have us meet. I don't charge much for my services. Really, as long as you keep me safe, I'm all yours." She winked.

Klaus still didn't seem to be finding her very amusing. "Who are you?"

"I can be anything you want, darling," said Andra sweetly. "But to most I'm Andra Clarke. Long time mercenary and currently, just a manager at the Jardin Gris Voodoo Shop. I'm sort of retiring; the killing scene isn't really for me anymore. Sometimes you do outgrow such things. I'm not sure if Marcel told you, but," she reiterated the few points made to Marcel regarding what a golem was, who Malivore was, and what her existence meant, omitting the fact she'd worked for Mikael in the past.

"Immortal, then?" said Klaus dryly, eyeing her closely.

"Yes," she said. "I take it it has to do with the fact my organs aren't real. I can eat and feel my heartbeat just like a human, but I don't–"

He sped forward and snapped her neck.

She rose up, having been laid on the couch, a few minutes later. "Really?" she said, massaging her neck. "Three seconds and just, pffft. I thought you had more patience than that. Then again, I heard guys with poor stamina rarely do–"

This time, he stabbed her in the throat with his glass of liquor. It took a bit longer for her to wake back up, but when she did, she just smirked. "Did you have enough of that? When is my point going to be proved? I can't die, can't be compelled–"

He held the back of her head, forcing her gaze. "Stab yourself with this." He offered her the rest of the glass.

She didn't move a muscle. "Keep looking into my eyes like that and my knees will start to get weak," she said with a fake pout. "Thank goodness I'm already sitting down."

Marcel seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. Klaus lifted her arm, biting in and eliciting a small gasp. As soon as he tried to feed, he recoiled, spatting out her 'blood.'

"Yeah," she said, making a face as he gagged, "when I said my organs aren't real, I meant it. No vervain, but also no real blood. Do feel free to get kinky whenever you want, though, I sure as hell won't say no."

She leaned back as Klaus went to discard the pieces of glass. "The terms are simple, Klaus. You need someone found, I do my best work. I don't think I can beat an Original Hybrid with a heightened sense of, well, everything, but I will try my best. I am trying to live the simplest life I can. It'll take actual payment to make me kill anyone for you. Let's see, what else, oh, yes, if you end up wanting to get me out of the city and out of your luscious hair, all you have to do is find my brother and I'll be off. Got that?"