Dispersora | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 9

No one knew what to make of it.

Elijah had called them to his study to discuss it. By then, Davina was already asleep, and only Marcel could join Yara and the Originals to talk.

"The Italians call them strega," said Elijah, staring at the portrait, face pale. "The Yoruba of West Africa call them aje, meaning mother. Where my mother was from, they called them häxa, and here we call them witch. Over the centuries, vampires have fought them and fought beside them, bedded them and burned them. Whether adversary or ally, they have been a force to be reckoned with. Their ancestral magic anchors this city. There's never been one all-powerful witch until Davina."

"And somehow because of that she got this premonition," murmured Yara. "Of some evil, of Céleste."

Elijah shook his head. "Yes. Perhaps Davina's mistaken what she calls evil for power. Celeste was certainly very powerful in her day, but she's been dead for over two hundred years. I don't understand. Why all these sketches now?"

"Why does any witch do anything?" said Klaus. "Young, old, dead, or alive, witches are a pain in the arse."

"Maybe if she saw this, she'd have a more specific premonition?" suggested Marcel. "If she knew what she's been drawing the whole time, if she saw the face... it could be like a puzzle piece clicking into place. She told me she never thought anything specific about these drawings but this is... weird. Maybe there is some meaning to be found now."

Rebekah held up her arms. "But why would it mean anything? Céleste was kind to us. How could she be evil?"

"She was kind to you," said Klaus lowly.

"Perhaps because you didn't treat her with respect!"

"There is an obvious solution!" said Yara, frustrated. "We do what Marcel said. Show it to Davina, see if something else comes up once she sees it put together. Come on..." she took the taped picture together, following Marcel to Davina's room.

Though Davina was unhappy about being woken up, she was willing to sit up and stare at the picture, still rubbing her eyes and trying to process what was going on.

"Do you sense anything different?" asked Marcel. "Something coming to mind–?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know, it... I had no idea it was going to be a picture of someone. And I don't know who that is, I've never seen her before."

"She's a witch who lived here in the 1800s," said Yara. "Elijah's girlfriend, my friend. She knew Marcel when he was little, died in 1821. She was very powerful. Ringing any bells? Maybe someone told you about her?"

"No, I never heard of anyone like that, and I don't recognize the name Céleste. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, D," said Marcel. "You tried, that's what matters. We'll do some digging on our own. Just know that you can tell us anything that you remember or anything new that you sense, if it comes up, okay?"

Davina nodded. "Okay. I think I'm going to go back to sleep, maybe something will come up in a dream. Um..." she got a funny look on her face. "On second thought, I need some water..." she began to cough, until suddenly a mound of dirt burst out of her mouth and onto the bed.

"Davina!" cried Marcel, patting her back. "Davina– what's happening to her?!"

Yara didn't know what to do, pulling forward the trashcan to gather the dirt. "What the hell is going on? Just keep coughing, Davina, get it all out, wherever it's coming from..."

Klaus skidded into the room. "What's with all the racket? Oh, bloody hell–"

Davina let out a sound between a sob and a scream as the house began to shake violently, the portraits sliding down the walls and many decorations falling to the floor. Yara and Marcel both leaned over Davina, shielding her head. It wasn't until she stopped coughing that the earthquake ceased.