White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Twenty

1952 — New York City, New York

   Elijah had taken her to Greenwich Village, where the Bohemian set was electrifying in every corner and prominent writers made their inspiration at the taverns. It was different from Manhattan, a little more livelier with more supernatural. She could see vampires with blood specked on their chins at every corner, witches casting their spells with seductive glances and mesmerising dancing, creatures with golden eyes glaring at her as she passed by arm with the Original vampire.

   "What is this place?" Eleanor asked, her eyes still glancing around. "Your New Orleans in New York?"

   "Yes," Elijah chuckled. "Our home away from home."

   "There are witches here," she noted. "I thought you and our dear Klaus hated witches." She trailed off when she realised that she called Klaus theirs. Oh, she was terribly wrong. Klaus belonged to no one but himself, because a man like him couldn't love. A man like Klaus Mikaelson couldn't love because his heart was terribly wounded, terribly fearful of letting another in.

   "He isn't exactly fond of them," Elijah hummed. "Hasn't been for over nine hundred years."

   Eleanor let out a soft chuckle. "I forgot how old you were," she said. "Warriors with blood in their hands and mouths."

   "You're quite the jester," the Original chuckled. "I advise you to lower your jokes when you meet with my brother. He isn't exactly fond of you, dear El. You see, after you left he seemed to get angrier. He broke that poor girl's head right off her body-Gianni's sister."

   "He killed Coralie?" she asked.

   At that moment, Eleanor felt both frightened and excited. She wondered why in the world would hearing that Klaus killed somebody for her made her feel all delighted and giddy, when in reality it was supposed to make her feel like vomiting. But there wasn't no fright, no wanting to be scared. Eleanor felt excited, and that worried her. If she felt excited at only Elijah's words, she wondered how would she feel when she saw Klaus after eighty years.

   Elijah took her to a cocktail lounge named The Salmon River, owned by a man named Mika. The lounge was full with every kind of creature she could imagine. Other than vampires and witches, there were others that made her skin itch and her fangs wanting to bite. She held tighter to the Original as she passed them by, a sense of disgust feeling her up. They stared at her with the same disgusted glances. She looked away, straight in front of her, and she stopped. There he was, standing just as glorious as he had always been, a drink in one hand and a woman on the other. He was different, with shorter hair. His eyes, on the other hand, were just as cold as the first time she saw them.

   They were the blue that froze you in place, captivated you for even the slightest of moments. Not like the sea which would reflect the moonlight, but they were like ice, transparent. And every time Eleanor looked at them she could see that the ice was like frozen tears. His fears, sadness, weakness, everything was trapped in those eyes. And they looked so cold and aged, like his stare could freeze the whole world in a moment. She couldn't look away.

   Her breath was stuck in her throat as she stared and her fingers itched. At that very moment, she wanted to turn around and run away. And she was about to, but his glacier blue eyes suddenly collided with hers. In that single moment, she froze. It was as if ice cold water had been poured on her, as if her heart decided that it wanted to stop. Her hold on Elijah's arm tightened, her nails digging into his arm.

   Klaus pushed himself from where he stood, his eyes wide as he slowly walked to her. His eyes fell into those of anger, the frozen glacier becoming an angry sea. A smirk formed around his soft pink lips. "Well," he breathed. That simple word caused shivers to fall from Eleanor's spine. "If it isn't the girl that left us eighty years ago. How have you been, Eleanor?"