Always and Forever (The Hybrid and The Wolf - Book 7)

Chapter 5 - Don't It Just Break Your Heart

Klaus barged into Marcel's old apartment, which was also previously Lucien's. "Rise and shine, Nightwalker Nation. If it was your aim to get my attention, then I must say you've been wildly successful. I am now singularly focused on your impending suffering. And to whomever sent this coin . . ." He showed them the coin with the swastika on it. "And took my wife . . ." He kicked a chair, breaking it. "It's time to show your face."

Klaus tossed the coin, rushing to grab the broken legs of the chair before rushing to stake vampire 1 and 2, then he rushed towards vampire 3 and growled, biting her neck. The coin was still spinning on the floor as he attacked more vampires. He backhand punched vampire 4 and staked vampire 5 in the neck, making them both fall.

Klaus looked at vampire 4 as he tried to get away. 

Marcel rushed in and threw him to the ground. "Man, don't look to me for help. Y'all lost your chance to trade loyalty for protection."

Klaus grabbed vampire 4 by the leg, dragging him towards the window. "This will mark your very last opportunity to confess."

"Look, I don't know anything," Vampire 4 told them.

"Well, it's a pity for you then," Klaus replied, pulling him to his feet and pulling back the curtain.

Vampire 4 groaned and screamed as he burned in the sunlight.

Greta picked up the coin. "It's me you're looking for." Klaus and Marcel looked at her. "Perhaps we should talk."

~*~*~

Greta was hanging upside down while being bled out due to the vervain in her system.

Klaus lit a candle. "You know, for someone who organized this little summit, you're woefully short on details." He turned to face her. "So, I'm gonna ask you one last time. Where are you keeping Nina?" Greta didn't answer. Klaus sighed, rushing to flip her into a seating position and stabbing her hand with part of the shackles, making her bleed out faster. "You knew we'd have this little chat. No doubt you binged on vervain till your throat was red and raw. And now, sadly, drip, drip, drip, all over the floor it goes."

Greta spoke German. "Sein mangel an vision wird sein untergang sein."

"'His lack of vision will be his downfall'," Klaus translated.

"That's what he always said about you," Greta told him.

"He?" Klaus repeated.

"You and I have a friend in common," Greta said.

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that," Klaus replied.

"It's true," Greta told him. "August Muller." Klaus furrowed his brows, slightly. "I don't blame you for forgetting. It was a long time ago. Rostock, Germany. Spring, 1933.

~*~*~

Flashback - 1933

In a cabaret club, music was being played on a piano with a woman twirling on a ring suspended from the ceiling and August Muller was sitting on the stage, addressing the patrons.

"The purpose of art is to portray life as it is," August said. "When that world is joyous, art must reflect that beauty, but when our existence is beset with unrest, humiliation, hyperinflation, the indignation of reparations, art must necessarily be equally drab and ugly."

Klaus was sitting on a sofa. "Or perhaps, August, the ugliness is a result of the artist lacking any discernible talent." He chuckled. "The mission of art is to engage our most primal selves, to inflame our passion, to provoke our insight." He grabbed the hand of the woman sitting next to him, moving his hand up her arm. "And it should inspire us to engage to drink and brawl and give our sensual race the rein."