Chapter 53: The Elder Vampire, The Traveler & The Crone
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Max visits an individual he's had in his schemes for awhile now — And then chcecks up on another he hasn't seen in awhile, before making his way to the heart of the French Quarter Witches' community in a bold but unforgettable entrance.
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Max was currently sitting at a local café, a cup of hot chocolate before him with added espresso and caramel drops. Beside it laid a paper held down by a pen, though none of the above were currently being used at the moment.
Instead, Max's eyes were glowing a vibrant silver-blue alongside the tattoo around his right eye, which just glowed silver. His mind was elsewhere.
Europe, to be exact.
He stayed in that position, his eye tattoo still glowing, glowing silver-blue eyes staring off in the distance.
[London, United Kingdom]:
Max stood in a fancy penthouse overlooking the Tower Bridge and the streets leading to it. It was a modernized penthouse, meticulously cleaned and lined with LEDs; the primary walling material used was steel metal and dark glass. An Eastern king bed remained in one end of the room, unmade, and a radio played on overhead speakers that remained hidden. The song that was being played was "Poker Face," by Lady Gaga. A fully-stocked kitchenette, complete with a bar filled with expensive—very expensive—drinks resided in one area.
The penthouse had everything an old, influential vampire could ever want in the modern age. And it smelled decent—The cologne was heavy but, beneath it, Max's powerful nose could pick up on the traces of a heavily masculine, supernatural scent. It was causing his own physiology to crave the source, briefly awakening the Omega Pheromone Rune from its slumber before the Rune of Resistance forced it back into sleep mode.
Max shook his head, but he could still smell it, even in astral form. The scent was hypermasculine and thick, subtly causing the fangs in his gums to writhe, wanting to come out, but Max's willpower kept them in check, thankfully. Curious, Max followed the hyper masculine scent down the corridor and down a flight of stairs and to a wide room that led to the bathroom, Max guessed, given the steamy air coming from the door.
The plan was pretty simple. For Max, He just needed to charm this vampire so hard, he becomes obsessed with him. See? Easy peasy. At this point in time, he's a pro at the art.
He'll use his 9/10 Charm factor to do it. Only, instead of using it passively, he'll use it actively, which, he predicts, will make its effects drastically stronger than it is when it's used passively.
What he didn't know was by how much, though...
He was going over the plan in his head when something happened. The water had long since stopped, even though Max was too much in his head to realize it, so, when the door opened and a towel-wrapped, bare chested Lucien Castle walked out, wet and muscled, his mind short circuited.
Light dark hair peppered his impressive chest. His nipples were like dark pepperoni and perky enough to make Max wanna nip at them. His biceps were large and bitable and his wet hair somehow neat and wavy, even wet. His six pack only had Max's fangs writhing in his gums and the armpits, though cleaned, could be partially viewed from beneath his right arm where he held the black towel in place.
The sight of the elder vampire made Max dry swallow, his mind temporarily not computing enough to realize the vampire had noticed him staring and, smirking, began to flex, which only sent Max into a deeper trance.
Lucien laughed in that deep, rich man laugh he was so known for.
"To what do I owe a witch visiting me on such a fine morning?" the vampire radiated an arrogance that only made Max want to devour him more. "Pretty sure this entire building is protected by wards. How might a witch as young as you bypass such wardings?"
To this, Max came back to himself, shaking his head with a slight smirk tug of his lips. "Oh, I think I felt the warding on my way in. Powerful witch, whoever made it," Max said, almost dismissively. "Unfortunately, I'm much, much stronger, so it wasn't too hard to bypass."
This caused Lucien to eye Max warily. After all, anyone who could breach warding created by Julia was someone who's earned their respect from him.
Julia was a witch orphan of great power. Nothing as powerful as the Bennetts nor as influential as the Westphalls in the West, but definitely someone Lucien has raised to be as powerful as a coven leader, with the best resources and education money could buy.
In Europe, Julia was the Supernatural Community's greatest witch of the current age—And one that supernaturals all over came to for aid.
'And this... admittedly dashing young man has casually bypassed her warding,' Lucien thought, imprinting Max's face to memory. 'I wonder if I can make ally with this young man... He swings that way, obviously. I've just caught him staring at my impressive greatness. Clearly, he recognizes superiority. Maybe, I could charm him into joining my faction? The Strix has already gained more than enough influence, especially in recent times. If I am to compete with them, even as Tristan's ally in the illusion, I'd rather have a witch as strong as this one on my side.
'And all I'd have to do is charm and flex, and his teenage hormones will do all the rest. Shouldn't be too difficult, I'd say.'
Max, who had been reading Lucien's mind the whole time, internally smirked.
'Oh, Lucien...' Max thought to himself. 'Charm me? Me? That might've worked for a time—Maybe before I met Kol... Before Kaleb's death... Unfortunately, I won't be the one who's getting charmed today. I'm not the one becoming a plaything. And what I have in mind for you is much more of a mercy compared to how your life is canonical supposed to end, you fine ol' vampire.'
Max wasted no time. He drew on just enough magic that would be non-noticeable to even the most magically-sensitive vampire nose and channelled it inward, through his 9/10 Charm factor.
The result? It was immediate.
Lucien seemed to stiffen, almost unnaturally. His eyes widened with an unspoken, intensive level of desire. Even in astral form, Max could smell the tsunami scent of desire from the guy.
It was so strong, Max decided to take just a peek inside Lucien's mind. Just to see how strong that minor amount of Charm channelling could possibly be.
What he saw was... eye-opening.
'How can a man look so defileable?' one of the billions of racing thoughts sounded inside Lucien.
'How can a man look so holy, yet so damn breedable?' another thought.
'There's no woman alive who could possibly make me feel this way,' another thought.
Rapid scenes aligned alongside these thoughts—of Max, pinned down beneath Lucien's weight as the older man had his way with him.
Of the two of them kissing passionately above the bleeding pile of corpses that looked surprisingly like the Mikaelsons. The blue moon above them shifted red like it was bleeding, coloring the sky, clouds and night with an ominous crimson glow.
Max saw himself resting on a sword made of flesh above Lucien, who rested, backfirst, on a bed made of roses and lit candles, smelling of strawberries and desire itself.
Max saw himself pregnant somehow, staring out a hotel window at a blue, crystal clear river, with Lucien's arms locked around him from behind.
Max had to break away from the mind of Lucien Castle before he lost himself in the vampire's endlessly unhinged, debaucherous thoughts. They were enough to make Max's own Omega Pheromone Rune act up—Thankfully, the Rune of Resistance kept it at bay, but Max was at least partially tempted to let all of those thoughts of Lucien's come to pass immediately.
Max had to break away from the mind of Lucien Castle before he lost himself in the vampire's endlessly unhinged, debaucherous thoughts. They were enough to make Max's own Omega Pheromone Rune act up. Thankfully, the Rune of Resistance kept it at bay, but Max was at least partially tempted to let all of those thoughts of Lucien's come to pass immediately.
His willpower allowed him to keep his wits.
'Maybe when I return and truly manage to defeat the Hand of Nature,' Max thought. 'Maybe then I can settle down and enjoy my men... But duty first.'
Max spent the next few minutes imprinting a psychic node onto Lucien's mind. It was designed to alter memories, replace loyalties, re-draw goals, and optimize desires—all while preserving the personality traits that made Lucien himself.
'This is very likely one of the most downright villainous things one can do to another mind,' Max thought as he finished. 'Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, Lucien was a villain fated to die in the Originals. By doing this, I am changing his fate. And, even if it is still morally questionable... Well, I've never claimed to be a moral pillar, so it doesn't really apply to me.'
When Max finally returned to his true body, after ensuring the changes he made to Lucien was active, he noticed only a few minutes had passed—Not nearly enough to properly cool his hot chocolate.
He looked to the blank piece of paper for a second before someone returned to his thoughts.
'I haven't spoken to him in a while,' Max thought absentmindedly. 'Perhaps I should go ahead to check up on him.'
The glow suddenly returned to his eyes and the tattoo around his right eye, as his mind travelled across the country once again.
[Missouri, USA]:
In a deep, forest area in Missouri, untouched by Man, a large river flowed, clear and crystal-like. Inside this river, completely naked as he bathed alone in the water, Markos, current leader of the Travellers, was bathing.
This is exactly where Max's astral form appeared and Max's eyes only widened in arousal at the sight before him:
Bronze-tan skin, lean muscle, an athletic lean figure, mild to mid amount of hair on an impressive chest that hosted dark nipples that had Max salivating.
As Max noticed the six pack, his eyes travelling lower unconsciously, he was interrupted by Markos himself.
"My eyes are up here, Maximus," a voice said.
Max immediately shook from his hypnosis, as his eyes returned to a face of light stubble, sharp nose and straight Middle Eastern handsomeness... A face that was actively smirking at him—A different kind of smirk than Kol's or Lucien's. This one had a softness to it alongside genuine amusement.
"It's been a minute since we've last saw one another, Max," Markos laughed. "Is there a reason why you've astral projected directly to me right now... Outside of checking me out, that is?"
"You're lucky I'm only astral projecting, Mark," Max smirked.
"Is that so?" Markos challenged.
"Next time, there will be action taken," Max shot back.
"Action, you say?" Markos raised a brow, as he scrubbed himself in soap and washed himself clean. "I'll look forward to it. Now... what are you here for?"
"I came to check on how convincing the others were coming along," Max said, inquisitively. "The spell to temporarily counter your curse in key places is pretty much finished. Soon, I reckon, I'll have a spell that would counter or even completely remove your curse—The Travellers' curse in its entirety."
This caught Markos' attention, his gaze sharpening. "The others are willing to try it?" he said after a beat, then continued. "They've all agreed to make me their one, true leader if it works, though I imagine they'll want you married to someone in the coven—For control reasons, no doubt." Markos rolled his eyes.
"They're funny if they think I'll take anyone who isn't you," Max smirked.
"They'll want a kid, Max," Markos tried to explain. "They will want to assimilate your bloodline into the coven. You'll need a wife."
Max smirked even harder. "You won't need a woman to reproduce—At least, not with me, anyway."
Markos side-eyed Max. "What do you mean by that? Can you—?"
"Magic, Marky, magic," Max grinned, before beginning to fade. "I have to go, but meet me in Idaho—I've purchased land out there big enough for your people. It's already been added to the 'safe places' list, so try to stay out of trouble. When we actually meet in-person, try to keep your money where yours is, because I intend to taste you properly."
"Is that so?" chuckled Markos. "Then I'll await our meeting. Hopefully, you can take me. I've been told I'm a 'beast' in bed."
Even as Max began to vanish, he felt himself quiver with want at those words. Still, though, he vanished.
"Oh, I'm going to ruin you, Maximus," Markos thought privately, when Max vanished. "Those men you surround yourself with are nothing compared to me—And I'll make sure you feel exactly why when I have you at my mercy."
Markos smirked before diving deeper into the flowing water to wash off the soapy suds. He had a people to migrate.
Max had already sent the places in Idaho he'd marked psychically to Markos. And Markos always did wonder what it was like to live in that state.
As he dived deeper into the river, he mentally could not get rid of Max's face from his thoughts—Nor did he want to...
When Max returned to himself this time, he quickly drank the rest of his hot chocolate, wrote a list of things on the piece of paper before him and stuffed it and his pencil in his pocket.
Then, leaving a $100 bill as a tip, he left the café and headed to the Garden District of New Orleans.
After all, he had a funeral home of dead witches to visit and a powerful ancient spirit to assimilate…
As Maximus drove down the busy road of the French Quarter, he couldn't help but think back to when he inherited the phoenix conceptual capabilities by the Phoenix Concept itself just the day prior.
He sensed much of its power was sealed within him. His physical body just wasn't strong enough for it. He could access its power if he tried — Of that, he had no doubt.
The issue was, the fire was liable to destroy him from the inside out. No amount of resurrection magic would be enough to bring him back. He knew that.
Instead, he was glad, however, that his phoenix side was strengthening his physique. It was making him stronger, faster, more durable, though very slowly. It was like it was supercharging his cells and refining that energy with the gold fires of the phoenix.
It was a very slow and slightly painful process that he reckon would take quite awhile to complete at the rate it was going. A hundred, maybe a thousand years? That was how much he predicted it would be before he could fully access its full might without consequences.
And it doesn't even take into account the high chances of dying and resurrecting which, he sensed, would slow down the process by a few years, maybe a decade. It wouldn't stop the process; just stall it.
'But, in the likelihood — a highly probably likelihood — that I die in my multiversal journey, depending on the situation, it might be best to take that into account in my plans,' Max thought, as he drove. 'I wonder if turning myself into an Original vampire would increase the rate at which the conceptual power is fully acclimated inside me…? Perhaps I should turn myself before I leave?'
Whatever choice Max would choose, he knew he'd have to do it in his private dimension, so as to make sure Nature herself doesn't interfere with the conceiving of Hope. There was no way he would forgive himself if the Landon Kirby of his Earth never got his other half.
Shaking his head, Max focussed on driving. It only took him another 15 minutes to reach the Garden District and another two to reach his destination; The Lafayette Cemetery No. 1.
During the drive, he thought on how now he could sense other universes of this particular multiverse [TVDU]—He couldn't see them, and he could hardly perceive them, but, thanks to the conceptual authority of the Pheonix, he could sense the ripples of other universes in his current multiverse; other timelines and other versions of TVDU—The actual series of storylines, fanfiction versions and even the book versions. He could perceive their ripples, sense their presences, yet he couldn't yet see them as a whole nor could he access them quite yet.
'It's like light sleeping while being aware of your actual surroundings,' Max thought, as he parked his Camaro. 'It's a strange feeling. I think I'll be able to fully perceive the multiverse whenever I fully acclimate to the power of the Concept of the Pheonix... Not that I intend to wait that long to travel the greater omniverse as a whole. For one thing, my magic capabilities need to expand... Beyond just TVDU maybe,' Max felt the pocket he placed that folded piece of paper from the cafe when he thought of this. 'A few other verses, some animes, maybe some cartoon universes—Either way, my survival depends on evolving my repertoire of magic to a higher level—I don't know how I know this; I just do. Something tells me the leader of the Hand of Nature isn't someone I can beat as I am right now, and I have no intentions of testing that theory.'
A shiver ran through Max's thoughts when he thought of this. He felt an instinctive fear at these thoughts—Particularly at the leader of the Hand of Nature.
After all, if a mid-level ranked member of the Hand of Nature is a Kryptonian-level threat, Max couldn't help but wonder how powerful the leader could be.
Shaking his head, Max gathered himself for a moment, before exiting the car and beginning his journey down the various isles of burial sites around him.
Immediately upon entering the corridors of the Ancestral Burial Grounds, Max became aware of the eyes—From the living and the dead. All of them were witches.
He knew it would only take a switch of his perception to see the Ancestral Well.
'At this point in time, the Harvest Ritual occurs roughly 8 months from now,' Max began scheming as he walked. 'I wonder if I can use future events to get what I want?'
As he walked deeper in the cemetery, he already picked up on the witches that were encircling him—He just let them.
As powerful as he is now, there's no witch alive who could harm him... except, maybe, Barshamsha, but Bar was Max's mate. He'd never.
"Who are you, stranger?" a voice brought him from his thoughts.
Max looked up, noticing he was completely encircled by witches and warlocks of the French Quarter Coven. The one who had spoken was Sabine Laurent (Or Celeste Dubois, considering who was possessing Sabine's body at the moment.
Beside her was Jane-Anne Deveraux, Sophie Deveraux, Genevieve and Agnes.
Max studied the witches gathered there before him, before smiling. "Two elders and a whole host of witches just tosee little ol' me? I must say; I am beside myself with amusement."
The gathered witches synchronically glared at him.
"We asked you a question, Stranger," Agnes spoke, the beautiful brown skinned elder was clearly suspicious, her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"And do not lie," Genevieve intercepted. "The Spirits speak, little boy. And, after the whispers of what you did in Vampire territory, we'll have the truth regardless."
Max narrowed his eyes, annoyance clear. "Witches," he muttered, eyes rolling. "So self-righteous, foolish. Thinking yourselves servants of a greater power but, like everyone else, is but the result of a petulant child wanting vengeance against his father..."
The others narrowed their eyes at this, clearly not sure what to do with it.
"Who are yo—?" Agnes began to ask again, but Max interrupted her,
"I am more powerful than the combined might of all Nine Covens of New Orleans, and that is with the power of your puny ancestors backing you. Show me some respect," Max dropped a bomb that causes a stir to traverse the ranks of the witches gathered before him. Sabine looked Max up in interest—Even the elders seemed to have grown wary of him. "Thirty vampires came at me before, and all of them are dead—Turned to ash, mind, body and soul. One of the largest Western packs in the world tried hunting my friends—They no longer exist. Hell, Klaus Mikaelson himself tried forcing me to submit to him—Well, let's just say, he got one hell of a bruising."
At this, gasps were heard in the crowd.
The elders seemed to re-assess Max visibly. The other witches seemed to take an involuntary step back.
"I am—" Max began.
"The student of Qetsiyah herself," a frail but strong voice sounded as all witches gathered turned towards the approaching redheaded old woman. The elders made way for her, showcasing the respect a witch elder of her caliber deserved. Bastianna Natale made her way forward. "Now, what is the most powerful warlock of the Western hemisphere doing in this end of the French Quarter?"
"Oh. It's you. How interesting," Max tilted his head, with a daggered smile dawning upon his face. "You up for making a deal, ya old crone?"
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P.S: I know it's been awhile. Overtime is a ripe bastard. That said, I am back. And man, did I deliver?! 3600+ words? LET"S GOO! Sometimes I impress myself. That said, I intend to catch up on this story. I've got sooo many ideas for future chapters, so stick around and let's learn Max's future tofether!