Long live the Queen.
********
"It's been hell meeting you, Damon Salvatore. Goodbye"
In the final book of the Reign series, Calla Ames was a girl who got drawn into the darkness that ultimately destroyed her. Her name being whispered throughout the...
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'The tiger and the lion may be more powerful... But the wolf does not perform in the circus'
The alleyway echoes my sobs choking my throat, salty tears escaping my eyes and mixing with the wolf blood on my face. Or it could be vampire or witch, I'm not entirely sure.
My heart keeps shattering when I think of my mate and his new girl, so soon after I passed I can't believe he would do that to me. As if I was a common whore instead of the girl who had defended him against his family, who spent centuries locked in a coffin for retaliating after Klaus shoved a dagger in him.
I reach up to wipe the tears from my cheeks, smearing blood on my face as I do so. I figure other vampires have smelled such the potent odor as there is so much that rolls off my body and the new clothes I stole soak up the extra pools of crimson. They're smart to steer clear with the amount of blood in the air tonight, smart not to go up against whatever the cause of it as my nails are still sharp talons with blood caking under the nails.
Nuzzling my head against my bent up knees. Wrapping my arms around my knees to pull them closer, I begin to realize what I have done.
I'm not guilty about it. I don't feel things like that anymore, however, I do feel remorse that I took out my pain and anger in the city my family has loved. From what they've told me is that New Orleans was a place where all the misfits could go and feel at home. Probably why they feel such strong feelings toward it and I'd ruined apart of it.
This is not how I wanted to get back in favor with Klaus. This city is the only thing he cares about besides Hope and I would never go 30 miles near the little girl feeling such a storm of emotions. I may ruin everything I touch but I won't be responsible for harming a hair on her head.
A gut-wrenching sob tears through my trembling body.
In a new city. A year after I was supposed to die. My only friend who I have declared an enemy. With nowhere to go after I just murdered so many people. I should have stayed dead.
Calla, a voice whispers through the air. So quiet but my ears twitch at the familiar tone.
Furrowing my brows, I raise my head but find I'm still alone in this dark alley. The party still rages on Royal and Bourbon but other than that no one is near me.
Calla.
Standing on shaky legs, I use the brick wall behind me to support me. The loose clothes I took from a CVS are baggy. Grey sweatpants and a New Orleans Saints t-shirt with bare feet.
As someone who praises themselves on their appearance, I feel dejected wearing something so un-fitting and lazy out in public. Keep telling myself that no one will recognize me but I still hate the way the cheap fabric feels on my skin.
"Kara?" my voice cracks in the middle of my sentence and even more dejection fills me as my voice doesn't even sound the same.
Nothing replies. Not a breeze or sound around me, just airy stillness as if something is waiting to pop out at me.
