The Jewel of the New Orleans ⚜ The Originals

Chapter 20: A Sense of Loss

A light blue covered the canvas as her paintbrush swept over the pristine white while soft piano played in the background. The room was full of sunlight and warmth that made her feel human again. All physical things felt so different as a vampire, but something in this moment brought her back to what she was in the best way possible.

She dipped her paintbrush back into the paint once more before putting it back on her canvas. Only instead of a sky blue, it was dark and unforgiving red. Instead of paint, it was blood. That's when she heard his voice behind her whisper, "Parasite."

Colette whirled around and tried to let out a scream only to be choked as Dion's hands wrapped around her throat once more. In an instant she was brought back to that little hovel they shared, being slammed down on the floor. She tried to call out for Marcel, Elijah, Hayley, even Klaus. But no help arrived. The only thing she could see was the terrible green eyes of the man that killed her.

She gasped as she launched up in her bed. Her hand went to her throat expecting to find Dion's hand still wrapped around it. She let out a sigh of relief until she looked in the corner of the room. The black dress. Father Kieran's funeral. She had woken up from one nightmare only to find another.

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"Why are you having them now?" Marcel asked as the two walked over to Rousseau's together. "After all this time?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It just felt so real. Like his hand was there again."

"Maybe Cami-"

"Poor girl has enough on her plate with Kieran's death not to mention the human faction will possibly circle her like hawks, Francesca in particular. I doubt she'd want to give up her position and she would certainly not want to give it to an O'Connell. Not that it isn't her birthright or anything."

"It was supposed to be Sean," Marcel reminded her. "Remember what happened to him?"

"I still prefer an O'Connell to a Correa," she said as they stepped inside, the jubilant music of the Irish-style wake making her think they walked into the wrong bar.

Marcel led her to the bar, looking off in the direction of the booths. Her eyes followed his to see he was looking at Cami and Klaus tucked away in the corner. Klaus looked dreadful and Cami only looked a small amount better. At least she looked like she got some sleep.

Colette sighed and looked around the room to see who had come. There were plenty of familiar faces mixed in with some that weren't, most likely friends. Most of the O'Connells were still in Ireland from what she learned from Kieran's father back when he ran the human faction. Though one face stood out to her that made her blood boil. She felt Marcel's hand rest against her arm as she shot Francesca a murderous stare.

"It's a day of peace, Bijou."

"Not when she's around," she said, looking away. A small table in the corner had the tribute to Kieran with plenty of pictures of him with Sean and Cami. Marcel passed her a glass of scotch before taking his own empty one and knocking it against the bottle. The room silenced as all eyes turned on him.

"I know I haven't been around these parts lately. It's a testament to Father Kieran that we could come together and share a drink, and a story or two. Kieran rolled into town on a rusty old cruiser after his daddy died twenty-five years ago. And dammit, that guy could party!" The crowd laughed with them. "That was, of course, before he took his vows. But, even then, he was committed to the Quarter. He knew that this town needed him. And, we still do," he said as he poured out a glass for himself and raised it up. "To Father K!"