Rebel Just For Kicks: Kol Mikaelson [1]

26: Memory Lane

MJ was sitting on a grandma's sofa in the living room.

The basement of horrors was attached to a suburban house on the edges of Los Angeles, filled to the brim with boxes and broken furniture. It was like nothing had been replaced in decades. Floral printed puff chairs with fraying arms and curls of what seemed like teddy bear fluff leaking out of the cushions. The boxes in the living room acted as tables even though there were old wooden one already dotted about.

Mary had left her in the room for about ten minutes to make the tea.

MJ had considered running about fifty times, but she couldn't abandon Ludo. She wouldn't. Her chance to run had gone out of the window the moment she'd decided to try and help.

"I'm sorry," MJ said as Mary handed her a teacup.

It was chipped, the saucer stained with dark red splashes that screamed 'blood.'

"What for?"

"Um..." MJ didn't know.

The apology had fallen out.

"First things first," The vampire's voice was slightly accented, it wasn't quite British, but it was close enough, "What's your name?"

She wasn't going to be stupid enough to give her real one, "Cass."

"Cass what?"

"Cass Lee."

"Well," The vampire's light blue eyes jumped up and down the room, "I'm Mary Porter."

MJ always felt like she was supposed to know who old vampires were even though she'd never really been educated on vampire history.

In New York, Marceline had always acted like she knew everyone because she'd been around for so long, supposedly getting turned in the early 1000s. It had just left MJ with the impression that vampires all knew each other even though she knew that wasn't true.

"And this is my house."

MJ looked around the clustered place, "It's lovely."

"Isn't it."

Mary's head drifted to a wall filled with overlapping and misshaped framed photographs, like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

For a moment, her eyes settled, causing MJ to focus on the pictures too.

There didn't seem to be any system to the pictures. There were random places and things, a few paintings, modern photographs, and even a few images that seemed to have been taken from security cameras. Others looked like they'd been taken without the subject of the photo knowing, through half-closed window blinds.

"Those are sketches," MJ pointed to a collection in the centre of the mess.

"They are," Mary's eyes glazed over as she returned to facing MJ, "Would you like to take a look?"

MJ had healed up her neck while the tea had been made, so she was slightly less tense, but still not sure enough of the situation to risk saying no to anything.

She stared at the softness of the lines.

The centre images were a collection of small and rough portraits, two men and a girl – the girl had a delicate chin, hair past her shoulders, and was glaring at something. Then there was a man in a suit, and another with slightly curlier hair.

Signed 'N.M.'

"Friends of yours?" MJ tried to make conversation.

"Once."