Lights Flicker And Fade : Kol Mikaelson [3]

222: How To Make An Introduction

2006

A vampire hotel was the last place MJ wanted to be, but where else was she meant to go?

She'd been buried alive, friends doing everything in their power to convince MJ that the situation wasn't her fault. This time?

What had happened?

That was entirely her fault.

She'd taken advice – she'd tried to be healthy.

Return to the scene of trauma in a lighter context!

Reframe the location and stop the panic attacks!

But – but, but, but!

The vampires.

The tunnels.

The friggin' crypt, symbol carved into the wall – into the victim's foreheads.

Her blood had woken them up, and they'd all smelt her and moved. Crusting grey skin, thick veins, craving her. Blood in the soil. Melted. Merged. They'd been vampires. They needed blood. Her blood. The same way the man in the blue sports jumper had needed it – pining her to the bench – awoken tomb trying to claw their shape on her –

...And she'd exploded.

Exploded.

MJ was going to explode.

Not with magic, but something else. Every pore on her body shook as her thoughts slipped down the rabbit hole to wonderland, memorising each face and its destroyed remains. Earth bending to her will, now mirrored by her lungs, threatening to fail at any second unless she forced them to move. The feeling of a fingernail sharp enough to cut through flesh –

Coming for her.

Probably clawing themselves out.

Matching her thoughts, only with her face in their place, plans of revenge –

"MiMi," Marceline's worried face the minute she fell out of the elevator.

Luckily, the usual babble of vampires the building had were elsewhere. Indulging through the vast number of floors that came with the place. Searching for the man who'd buried her.

"Sweetie – " She took in the smell of smoke and fear, "Oh."

"Selene – "

"Shh, shh, shh," She went to vamp-sped, then hesitated, "Contact?"

MJ nodded, weeping even more at the question.

While Marceline had been someone she'd once feared, it had been impossible to keep the walls up. The Yadav's were other people's parents. The Witch House was Gina's family legacy – and MJ would never learn what Beni's backstory really was, but he shouldn't have been expected to support her. Marceline was...the last connection she had.

The only person she could risk being around.

The most powerful woman in the city.

Power MJ needed.

"Do you wish to sleep here tonight?" Marceline walked forward slowly, kneeling down to hold her face, "Or longer?"

"Longer."

"That's fine, sweetie," She brushed one hand back to massage the roots of her hair, "I have a spare room already made up."

MJ nodded appreciatively, chucking her tiny arms over her neck to sob into her shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"Being like this?"

"Sad?"

"Pathetic," She was trying not to snot too much on the fancy top held against her cheek.