The Sorceress | Klaus Mikaelson

F O U R T E E N

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Chicago, 1922

Arabella adjusted her velvet bowler hat on her head, gazing up at the glowing moon. The sky twinkled with tiny stars, the air so crisp it burned to breathe it in.

The night was beautiful. It made her sad to think she had to murder her brother under these very stars, but it had to be done.

It had to be done.

Perhaps if she said it enough, she would go through with it.

Arabella stood in the alleyway, staring up at the bar. Her breath came out in cold, quick puffs as her heart raced.

Of course this wasn't going to be easy. She knew that going in. This was going to be the most difficult thing she would ever do in her life.

But she had to. She just had to.

Arabella placed her hands on her knees, doubling over and breathing heavily. The wooden stake rested comfortably against her chest, hidden inside her coat. She had a plan. A good one. She could do this.

"Well, well, well. Sister dearest, what a pleasure," Arabella snapped up at the voice, a chill running up her spine. She slowly turned around, and found a smirking Stefan standing by the doorway. "I came here to get some air, maybe a smoke. Didn't expect to see family."

"Stefan," She spit the name with such venom it practically seared her tongue. "You know why I'm here."

"Ah, right," Stefan held up a finger, clicking his tongue in amusement. It was clear there was hardly any humanity left in him. None. "Your little necklace. Or perhaps, the other thing. That would be kinda ironic if it were the other--"

Arabella doesn't give him a chance to finish, slipping her hand into her pocket and blowing a powdery herb in her hand. It was a light mixture of vervain-- simply meant to weaken him.

She wanted him to be conscious for the next part.

As soon as he was caught off guard, Arabella sped up her brother, snatching him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. She pressed the pointed end of the stake against his chest, hatefully glaring up at him.

"Where is my Talisman?" She hissed. Stefan grunted in pain as she pressed the wood into his skin, piercing it.

"You... wouldn't kill me," He painfully forced out. "I'm your brother--" His words were cut short as a pained cry escaped his lip, Arabella pressing the stake further into his skin. Just a bit more and she would hit jackpot.

"You stopped being my brother a long time ago," Arabella hated the way her voice cracked. It made her feel weak; as if her words now lacked meaning. Or perhaps now they held more. "Where is it?!"

"Fine, fine!" Stefan slammed his head back against the wall, trying to subdue the pain. "My apartment, by the all girls high school. Closet, bottom drawer, inside the cologne bottle."

A small, teary smile stretched across Arabella's lips as she nodded. "Good. I didn't want this to have to be messy."

"What?!" Stefan's eyes widened as he watched her stare down at stake, tightening her grip around it. "What are you doing, Arabella?"

"I made a promise I would kill you for what you did," A sob broke through her lips. "God knows you deserve it!"

"You'd really k-kill your own brother?" He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Your own blood?"