"ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴀʏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ."
~~~
Grace Mikaelson seems to think her days of helping her family are over, until a mysterious phone call from her uncle sends her entire world spiralling. Even when her family seems to be fal...
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chapter one - "I am the danger"
...
Paris, France
"Pardon?" asked Grace, snapping out of her daydream, and looking up at the bartender through her dark lashes.
"I asked if you were okay," he said with a warm smile, "You seemed as though you had left the world behind."
"Oh I wish," Grace chuckled, the bartender laughing with her.
"Yep, the real world sucks," he sighed.
The bartender, 'Francis', according to his name tag, was surprisingly handsome, with mocha skin, mesmerising emerald eyes, and a perfect, dazzling smile.
"Anyway, what's a girl got to do to get a glass of wine around here?" Grace smiled.
"Of course," Francis replied, "Although I'll need to check you ID first," he continued, with a knowing look.
Grace leaned in closer and looked him in the eyes, "No you don't."
Francis nodded and walked away whilst Grace sat back and sighed. That was one of the downfalls of being permanently stuck at sixteen years old, she couldn't even get a drink without being questioned.
"Here you are, the finest from our cellars," said Francis, as he placed a glass of red wine on the counter.
"Thank you," replied Grace, "This is very much needed," before taking a long sip.
Alcohol suppressed the cravings, but she was still in need of a proper drink.
...
"Do you need anything else ma'am?" asked Francis, three glasses of wine later. To Grace's irritation, her cravings still hadn't been satisfied.
"Yes actually," she said lowly, as she compelled him once again, "Leave through the back door, and meet me in the alleyway. Don't tell anyone where you are going."
"I won't tell anyone where I'm going," he said in a monotone voice.
"You seem like a nice guy," Grace said as she placed an €100note tip on the counter, "Hopefully this makes the real world a little less sucky for you," flashing a smile at the man.
...
Grace shivered and wrapped her coat tightly around her body, as the bitter wind chilled her to the bone. The streets of Paris were now close to deserted, as the moon shone brightly through the darkness of the night.
"Ah, there you are," grinned Grace, as she saw the silhouette of the bartender walking towards her.
"You shouldn't be out here by yourself, ma'am, it's dangerous," he said, a concerned frown appearing on his lips, as he looked around.
Grace couldn't resist the laughter that escaped her mouth.
"Oh Francis. Dear, naive, Francis," she whispered walking towards him, "I'm not in danger, darling," a smirk melting on her face, "I am the danger."
He looked at her completely confused. He opened his mouth to reply, but Grace placed her finger to his lips.
"You are not going to move, you are not going to scream."
Her eyes glowed an unnatural silver and dark veins appeared under her eyes. She felt the muted pain of her fangs pushing through her fangs, although after over 400 years she was practically immune to it.
Grace eagerly sank her fangs into the bartender's neck, the metallic taste of his blood met her tongue, quenching the unbearable thirst she had been battling the past few hours.
After a while, Grace drew away, and delicately wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingers.
"Sorry about that darling," she apologised as she pulled out a plaster from her pocket and carefully placed it on the bite mark, "You looked simply delicious."
Francis just stared at her with petrified, wide eyes, his face slightly drained of colour.
"Thank you for the drinks, Francis, it was much appreciated," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand, as she compelled him, yet again, "You will go back inside, you will forget this, and you will forget me."
He simply nodded and stumbled his way back inside.
Grace turned away and began to make her way back to her hotel, as she hummed her favourite song and admired the streets of Paris. The only sound on the streets was her heels clacking against the pavement and the distant intoxicated laughs of a group of men.
Unexpectedly, Grace felt the buzzing of her phone in her coat pocket. She glanced at the caller's name and instantly frowned, nevertheless she answered.
"Hello Uncle Nik, what do you need my help with now?"
"Can't an uncle call his niece without asking for a favour?" Klaus asked, Grace could practically hear his smirk through the phone.
"In my experience, no." she answered dryly.
"Well, you got me there, love," he chuckled, "The thing is, I need a witch to perform a certain spell for me."
"Why can't you just ask any other witch on the the planet?" asked Grace, impatiently.
"Because, Gracie, there is nobody I trust more than my little original hybrid," he replied, "So are you willing to help your uncle out?"
Grace though about it for a moment.
"Of course, I'll take the next flight out," she sighed in defeat.
"Fantastic," exclaimed Klaus, "I'll see you then," as he hung up the phone.
Klaus had asked Grace many times before for favours like these, however, she couldn't help but feel despair settling at the pit of her stomach.
"Oh well," she whispered to herself, "Always and forever, right?"
