Dispersora | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 15

Monique and Abigail blocked their path.

Yara tried to catch them off guard, to shove between them and throw them into the street. Who cared if they got hit by cars.

But when she and Hayley tried to rush past them (which they surely could have done faster than the girls could react), they ran into an invisible barrier.

Abigail began to chant as Monique held up her hand, throwing both women onto the floor and making a path in for the two witches. Behind them, Genevieve sat up, rubbing her head.

Hayley was closest to the kitchen doorway, and thought to lunge in to grab anything that might serve as a weapon. Before she could even stand fully, Monique flicked her wrist, breaking her neck.

"No!" whispered Yara, her body sliding toward the witches, who pulled her up and touched her face. Her lips were abruptly sealed, leaving her unable to express her horror when she looked down at Hayley's dead body.

"Hold her gently," said Genevieve as Abigail and Monique gripped her arms. "Stay calm, Yara."

The vampire stared at the woman as if she was crazy (which she apparently was). How the hell was she supposed to stay calm? What the hell were they planning to do to her?

The witch held her hands over her belly, humming as if she were a doctor performing an examination. Why, Yara didn't know. It didn't make sense why she would bother to check on her when she and the girls were hurting her in the first place.

"She's okay," said Genevieve. Yara realized they weren't talking about her. "We can begin as soon as we reach the cemetery."

She blew a white powder in her face, bringing her to sleep.

She awoke sweating profusely, the tomb small and only able to accommodate her, Monique, Abigail, and Genevieve, who were all moving around and gathering different herbs and magical objects, which they set on a nearby ceremonial table. There was a gap in the bricks that let Yara see out, just wide enough that she could recognize one of the ceremonial torches lit right at the entrance of the tomb.

They were near the altar, the same place where Davina's throat had been slit to complete the Harvest.

This was to be another sacrifice.

When she tried to lift her arms, another force pushed them down. She could barely turn her head, barely register anything other than a dull buzz in her ears and an ache in her stomach, which still seemed to have a baby within it, though she wasn't sure how long that would last.

"She's awake," noticed Monique. "We can get started soon."

"Please no," she begged, glad that she was now able to speak. "Please don't do this."

The look Genevieve cast her was nearly sympathetic. "We'll make it as painless as we can for both of you."

"What, exactly, will be painless?" demanded Yara. "You're going to kill us both! She's done nothing to anyone, she doesn't even have any consciousness right now, she's far from ready to be born and–"

"To be reborn, you must sacrifice," said Abigail flatly. "The ancestors demand an offering in exchange for power. You and your child will be a fine offering."

"No, we won't be!" she snapped. "You psychotic bitches are following the decree of antiquated and delusional ghosts who've brainwashed you! You girls are sixteen and you see nothing wrong with what you're about to do? Nothing wrong with the fact that you–" she glared at Monique, "killed your own aunt? None of this is normal! You still have a choice here, you can still choose not to do this!"