"Well… he almost got me." I glanced at Silas's heart in my hand, then at his body resting in what looked like some kind of tomb.
I set the heart at a safe distance, looked back, and saw Lucifer sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, weighed down.
"So, how's it going?" I moved closer and sat beside him. "What did you see?"
"It was such a perfect world," Lucifer said, his voice heavy, staring upward. "A world where Father wasn't such a mess… where he actually listened to me."
"Was it worth it? That world?" I asked, turning to face him.
"No. It was garbage. Not even close to ten percent of what this world is," Lucifer looked at me, eyes raw with hurt. "My 'perfect world' was worthless. I was wrong."
"You know it was only an illusion, right?" I stood up and patted his shoulder. "Onward, warrior. Let's get out of here. You don't mind if I keep Silas's body, do you?"
"What kind of sick thing is Qetsiyah?" Lucifer laughed, lifting his arms, his sadness fading. "Wanting to desecrate your ex's body—pure madness."
"No, no, it's not about her," I shook my head, gesturing. "I want to run some tests. After all, his immortality's the same kind as mine."
"Fair enough… He could be useful—I could make a demon out of him to haunt people's dreams." Lucifer looked me straight in the eye, then smiled. "But… since I'm not King of Hell anymore—tell me what he showed you, and the body's yours."
Right. Lucifer's got a nose for lies. Time for a half-truth.
"Silas showed me a world where I had a wife and twin children," I said, smiling, thinking of my two boys and Jenna to make it real.
"Now I'm actually jealous," Lucifer patted my shoulder, smiling back. "A goal so simple… and so impossible to reach. I can't beat that. Take the body."
He nodded toward Silas.
"But… I'd hurry if I were you…" He added, tone playful. "My brother's had quite the reality check. He probably won't be the most mature person when he wakes up."
Great. Just what I needed—a vengeful archangel hunting me down.
"Thanks for the warning." I sprinted to Silas, grabbed his body in one hand, his heart in the other. I steadied him, unleashed my power—time froze—and pushed with every ounce of strength I had.
I felt the blast tear through me. The recoil was so violent my clothes burned away instantly.
My eyes ruptured—agony searing—blind for seconds before they healed. My bones shattered and knit, shattered and knit, over and over. I could feel Silas's body too, pulling free from the earth, mending itself.
The cure had left his system.
I just hope Qetsiyah took his soul with her—because I don't want to be anywhere near that monster when he wakes up in a foul mood.
I slowed, the air pressure easing around me, but still high up. Being an Original really is built different.
How the hell did Elena and that sheriff kill Finn in the show? Impossible. Even caught off guard, survival instinct would've kicked in.
From up here, Silas's island looked no bigger than a cart. I scanned the sky as I slowed—and saw a plane coming straight for me.
Perfect. Let it come. I latched on, wrapping my power around myself so I wouldn't tear it apart. The jolt was still sharp—if the pilots didn't see me, they'd think they hit a bird.
A bird at this altitude? The ride was far gentler than hurtling through the sky on my own.
Ten minutes later, lights spread below. I caught the glow of a city—and remembered Amenadiel. He didn't take defeat well. Good thing Lucifer warned me.
Skyscrapers rose. I hauled Silas's body and dropped onto a roof.
Home. Collect my reward from Qetsiyah. Never see any of these people again. And yet… this body kept pulling me toward New Orleans.
Easy, Klaus. You're not ready for what your 'son' and sister have done. And since he doesn't share your blood—if he betrays you, I'll kill him and you'll feel it. So breathe.
Next stop.
One week later — England
I pushed open the door of an old-fashioned pub. Every head turned.
"You've no business here, beast." A man in dated clothes pointed a wand at me.
Great. One less magical mercenary crew in this world.
I clenched my fists, already lining up him and the ten closest to take down.
Before I could, the man went flying, slamming into the wall.
"That's enough," a woman's voice rang out. She looked barely thirty, stepping through the room, touching one person then walking to me. "Tonny—take the new recruit to the infirmary. And you—come with me."
"But Boss," Tonny glared at me, furious. "He's dangerous."
Ohhh… someone who can sense my power. Not everyone's hopeless then.
"Precisely," she rolled her eyes at him. "Your failure to stop him nearly cost me my entire force. Do you honestly think thirty 'bad-blood' witches and three pure-bloods could take down a vampire old enough to warp the very air around him?"
Tonny said nothing, staring at the floor.
This could be fun.
She gestured to a room. I followed—magic hummed thick in the air. She pulled out a chair, sat opposite me, and crossed her legs.
"So… what do you want?"
I sat across from her.
"First—why do some use wands and some don't?" I asked. "Everyone here feels like a witch, but not everyone's carrying one."
"You of all people should know that, vampire," she shrugged. "Do you think a newly turned vampire has the same power or depth as you?"
"Obviously not," I said. "But witches don't grow stronger with age."
"No—bloodlines do," she said, unbothered. "Humans born with magic… human bodies aren't built for it. It takes generations before a witch can wield her power without a wand."
"Wait—so before wands… how did they survive?"
"They didn't. Burned at the stake or hailed as saints for odd tricks. If they had children, if their line survived… eventually you get wandless witches." Her tone turned sharp. "But we're not here to talk about my people, are we? You're old enough to know all this."
"I've been… indisposed for a long time. Populations grew, things changed," I lied—conveniently. "I need help breaking a curse."
"Why should I make you more powerful?" She studied me. "Something's trapped inside you. Not stronger than you are now… but it would be a massive upgrade."
"A grimoire from a witch who lived a thousand years ago," I said, smiling.
"Why would any coven surrender something so valuable?" She narrowed her eyes. "Did you wipe them out? Start a war with the Witch Authorities?"
"No. Though I've wiped out hundreds of covens," I waved it off. "War would be tedious. But this witch… she was my mother."
Her chair crashed backward. She hit the wall hard.
"You… are a thousand years old?" Her voice shook.
Delightful.
"Yes." I let my presence unfold.
No need to describe the mess—her body rattled, overwhelmed by the weight of what I am.
"By the way—Nik Sommers." I wouldn't give my real name; she'd run straight to Elijah. "Pull yourself together. We have business."
"Cough… cough…" She stared, still afraid, but breathed deep. "I understand. What do you need?"
"Not just now. Long-term—I want your people working for me," I gave my most reassuring smile. "Until my curse is broken."
"I'm Alyssa." She extended a hand. "Most of my army are 'bad-bloods'—shut out of society… or running from that fool Dark Lord."
"You're not afraid of Voldemort?" I asked, curious.
"He uses a wand—so obviously he's a bad-blood," she said with disdain. "The only difference between him and the rest is his raw power matches a pure-blood's. Take away the wand? Ninety percent of the threat vanishes."
"Fair enough." I shook her hand. "You'll do."