abominations.

camille.

ABOMINATIONS

.。o○o。.★.。o○o..

Elizabeth stormed through the compound, yelling Klaus's name like a woman on a mission—which, technically, she was. A beignet-craving, hormonal, morning-sick mission.

"Where the hell is he?!" she snapped at no one in particular. "I need beignets!"

Pregnancy cravings were no joke, and Elizabeth was already in a mood after spending the morning vomiting her soul into a toilet bowl. Morning sickness? More like morning hell. Klaus had burst into her room in a panic, only to find her hunched over the sink. He'd held her hair back—bare minimum behavior, really—and ignored all her furious blaming that this was his fault.

Which, to be fair, it was.

She finally found him—of course—with a blonde. Tall. Pretty. Human. Ugh.

Elizabeth scowled at the sight, "Finally. I want beignets. Now."

Klaus sighed, exasperated. "Elizabeth, can't you see I have company?"

"And I have two parasites growing inside me because of you," she snapped, jabbing a finger at her stomach. "So when I say beignets, I get beignets. Got it? Didn't your mother teach you manners?" Her tone turned wicked. "Oh wait—you killed her. So I guess she didn't do a great job either. Now stop acting like a stray mutt and fetch me pastries."

Klaus gave her a long-suffering look. "Do not kill her," he muttered, turning to the blonde with resignation.

"I'm serious, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth grinned sweetly. "Who, me? I'm a delight."

He rolled his eyes and compelled the human—Camille, was it?—to stay put before walking off to play pastry delivery boy.

Elizabeth turned to Camille the moment he left. "So...Blondie. What's your deal? You must be interesting if Nik's keeping you around. He doesn't do boring."

Camille blinked, trying to catch up. "Uh... I'm Camille. I bartend at Rousseau's and study psychology. Klaus wants me to be his... scenographer and spy on Marcel. Wait, why did I just tell you that?" Her eyes widened. "What did he do to me?"

"Oh, compelled you," Elizabeth said breezily. "That's his thing. Klaus is a vampire. Also a werewolf. It's complicated. That's how he knocked me up. I'm not a werewolf, by the way. I'm a siphon. A special kind of witch—but don't call me that, I hate it. Basically, I steal magic. Makes me very powerful, very hated."

She paused, then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Honestly, I probably need a therapist too. Being pregnant is kind of... triggering. And since Klaus won't let me leave, you're the perfect candidate. Oh, and don't worry—I can erase your memory if I overshare. Which I will. So, tell me, Doc... what's your first diagnosis?"

Camille blinked again, overwhelmed, but Elizabeth just laughed.

"Sorry-not-sorry," she added, flopping into Klaus's fancy leather chair. "I tend to ramble. Years of isolation, you know?"

"He keeps you locked up here?" Camille asked, looking alarmed.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm not technically a hostage. But I am carrying his miracle babies, so he's paranoid someone will come after me. And knowing his enemies? He's not wrong."

Camille absorbed that, then asked carefully, "You're pregnant with Klaus's children?"

"Yup."

"And... being pregnant with twins is triggering for you. Why?"

Elizabeth stared at the ceiling before answering. "In my coven, twins have to 'merge' at 22. One dies. The other absorbs their magic and becomes the leader. Their life force links to the coven. It's twisted. That's the only reason I haven't murdered my father yet—he's the current anchor."

Camille looked horrified. "That's... barbaric. My twin died. I can't imagine being forced to kill him. Does Klaus know?"

"No. And he won't," Elizabeth said firmly. "I'll find a way to stop it. I won't let my kids be sacrificed to keep a bunch of old magical freaks alive."

"I think you should tell him," Camille insisted gently. "These are his children too."

"Still nope."

Camille sighed, disappointed. "Do you really think you're fine?"

Elizabeth scoffed. "Of course not. I'm a mess. I murdered my siblings and feel zero guilt."

Camille raised a brow. "You don't feel anything?"

Elizabeth tilted her head. "It's hard to feel guilty when they never treated you like family. I was born different. Born wrong, according to them. A siphon. No magic of my own, only what I take. So they isolated us. Me and my brother Kai—we weren't allowed to touch anyone. Eat with anyone. They went on family trips, left us behind. We were monsters to them."

"And the others? The ones you killed?"

"They weren't better. They called us names, tattled to Dad. He punished us, every time. Christmas came—we got nothing. So yeah, I hated them. The only one I didn't hate was Kai. We were addicts, in a way. Magic is like a drug to siphons. And they kept dangling it in front of us, punishing us for craving it."

Camille's voice was soft. "What made you snap?"

"They had more kids. Twins again. That's when I realized—they wanted to replace us. So we planned to kill the new set, Olivia and Luke. But the others got in the way. So we killed them too. Except Josette tricked us. And the coven banished us to a prison world."

Camille's brow furrowed. "Prison world?"

Elizabeth was about to explain when Klaus's magic flared nearby.

"Ah, my hero returns," she said brightly, standing. "Thanks for the therapy, Blondie. Let's do this again sometime. Coffee, maybe?"

"You did all the talking," Camille muttered.

Elizabeth grinned. "That's what therapy is, right? Therapist listens, gets paid a ton. Speaking of—which Nik will cover, obviously. He's my sugar daddy. Buy yourself a car. Or maybe some books. You look like a book girl."

Camille blinked, stunned, as Elizabeth took her hand and murmured a forgetting spell.

"What did you do?" she gasped, eyes wide.

"Me? Nothing," Elizabeth said sweetly, just as Klaus walked in with a bag of fresh beignets.

She lit up, kissing his cheek on impulse. "You're the best," she told him, snatching the bag. "By the way, Camille's my new therapist. Pay her well, will you?"

And with that, Elizabeth sashayed out, throwing one last glance at Camille—possessive, pointed.

If Camille ever annoyed her... well. People burned easily.