Dispersora | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 19

Yara felt like she was floating.

She'd been laying in her bed staring at the ceiling, still able to feel Klaus's touch, the feeling of his lips on her cheek, how he'd promised her a date as soon as Dahlia was gone and they were free to do as they pleased in their city.

It wasn't like this was anything new, it wasn't like she hadn't been on a date with him before, like he'd never kissed her before.

And yet it was different, it was foreign, it gave her a pleasant set of butterflies in her belly that made her feel young again, or at least as young as she'd been when she first started to find Klaus attractive, all those decades ago.

They weren't the same two people from that day in 1820, shy and uncertain about one another. They weren't the same people from 1857 who killed Rayna Cruz together and finally had the courage to be honest about their feelings. They weren't the same people from 1919 who snarled awful things out of grief.

And they weren't even the same people from just a year ago. A year ago Yara was still in São Luis neglecting her daylight ring and looking skeletal because she hardly fed, and she'd had no goals and no passions left to enjoy. A year later she was in New Orleans, reunited with her son, holding a newborn daughter in her arms, remembering how happy she'd been and feeling that her life could be complete.

Hope was oblivious to it. She just wanted to be fed on time and was desperate to be hugged. Yara accommodated her easily, but was continuing to stare at Klaus from across the dining room table or across the courtyard, watching as he went about his day as if he hadn't almost made her faint in the nursery. One more second and her heart might've stopped.

I am so ridiculously touch starved. I hate it.

Then again, Klaus had always had that effect on her. That devil.

"Good news and bad news," said Rebekah, escorted in by Marcel, who seemed distressed. "Which do you want first?"

"How about the good?" said Yara.

"Oh, well, Freya's been invited to brunch. Elijah should be here soon; Cami is still at the safe house and he plans to return after our meal. She's requested Finn and Kol's presence. With any luck, everything that needs to be said... will be said."

"That's wonderful. Nerve-wracking, I think, but a good opportunity. Now, what's the bad news?"

"That part is really bad," said Marcel. "Look, this witch Rebekah's in, she was in the Fauline Cottage for a reason. Apparently she killed a bunch of kids and nobody ever found their bodies. She was married to Vincent Griffith, and the witches are already unhappy that Finn was possessing his body. Now, apparently, two other kids went missing last night and everyone insists Rebekah– or Eva Sinclair, I guess– is responsible. They want to take her but I said we'd open negotiations."

Yara set her hands on her hips. "And you offered me as the negotiator, didn't you?"

"It was either you or Elijah," said Rebekah. "And he wouldn't miss Freya's brunch. Besides, you were friends with Josephine La Rue's father."

"Alright... then I will see what I can do. You handle Freya, I handle Josephine. And someone please keep an eye on my little girl, she was being fussy all morning."

Marcel caught her arm before she could head out. "Just a word of warning. Josephine isn't like her dad. She's an eccentric old bat with no love for vampires."

"Not to worry, Marcel," said Yara. "I could charm the devil if I needed to."

The mansion belonging to Josephine was luxurious even from the outside. The interior was well-decorated but cluttered, as if the women were a borderline hoarder. She was made to wait in a sitting room before Josephine beckoned her into the living room. The woman's ice-blue eyes were as striking on her as they'd been on her father. But Phineas La Rue at the very least hadn't possessed a resting bitch face.