The Jewel of the New Orleans ⚜ The Originals

Chapter 1: Bienvenue sur le Nouvel Age

"Crap, crap, crap," Colette chanted as she tried to quickly wipe away the fresh paint off her hands as her phone rang, that all though was labeled unknown was a number she had been seeing quite a lot in her recent contacts. She picked it up just before it went to voicemail. "Hello."

"She's back in town, the werewolf," said the witch over the phone. "I just sent her to the bayou. I'm doing the spell tonight."

"Jane-Anne, you can't," she pleaded. "I can't protect you right now. He's going to find out."

"You know what's at stake."

She nodded despite the fact she couldn't be seen. "I do. Your life, your sister's, all of the witches you're getting involved. Marcel's been getting worse and I don't want to see you become his latest warning."

"I'm sorry," she told her. "But I have to do it for her. I promised to find you another way and this is our one shot at fixing it. I won't waste it."

The phone went dead once more, Colette's voice now barely a whisper, "Crap."

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She did love to hear him sing. It was one of the few things they could enjoy together, enjoyed doing together. The smile on her face seemed to deepen with every word he sung. But her happiness lessened when something powerful walked into the bar.

Colette could feel it deep within her bones. Something old, ancient had just entered and she scanned the crowd while maintaining face. There were many humans in the bar watching Marcel as he put on quite the performance, but one sour face stood out amongst the ones that looked similar to her own. The man's eyes bored into Marcel, trying to make him see him by using his energy alone. She let out a breath. Jane-Anne did it, this had to be him.

Marcel thanked the crowd as the song came to an end and hopped off the stage still riding the high of the audience's adoration. He took the drink from Thierry, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he took a sip, "What did you think?"

"It was as great as all your other little performances," she said, side-eyeing the man still staring her friend down. She gazed back at the stranger, a defiant and suspicious look. "But I think you have a visitor."

All eyes in their little group followed their own, a tension rising in the air as Marcel spoke the name Colette rarely heard leave his lips, "Klaus."

"Marcel."

"Must be 100 years since that nasty business with your papa."

"Has it been that long?" Klaus said as he and Marcel started to close the distance between them. Despite knowing what her role was, Colette felt ready to pounce, knowing she might be the only one in the room that stood a chance against Marcel's sire.

The two men's voices fit the way they moved as they drew closer. Two apex predators, trying to size up the other, "Way I recall it, he ran you out of town. Left a trail of dead vampires in his wake."

"And yet how fortunate you managed to survive," Klaus said. "My father, I'm afraid, I recently incinerated to dust."

Thierry and Diego jumped up from their chairs as did the rest of the Daywalkers, but Colette stopped them, their chests hitting the backs of her hands in an attempt to hold them back. The last thing they needed was a fight in front of the humans. Plus, if anyone could handle an Original besides her, it would be Marcel. "Well, if I'd known you were coming back in town, if I had a heads-up..."

"What, Marcel?" Klaus stepped into the other's personal space. "What would you have done?" The tension rose for a few more seconds.

"I'd have thrown you a damn parade," Marcel replied. Klaus broke into a smile, both of them laughing as they embraced one another. Colette turned around, shooing everyone back to their seats. "Niklaus Mikaelson. My mentor, my savior, my sire. Let's get you a drink."