#Klaus is very smart he came with snackie treats

[kirythestitchwitch]

'Necromancing the Stone' snippet

This is my Necromancer!Caroline fic with exes to lovers Klaroline.

She was halfway to her mug of coffee when her house wards shivered, followed quickly by a knock on her door. Reaching for the feeling, she tasted the magic of the person waiting on her stoop. Both dead and alive, it was like nothing she had felt before and also oddly familiar, an odd contradiction. Not unlike Enzo’s grave dust presence, but moon-drenched in the earth. The magic called to her like a howl through the deep woods, something wild, something lethal. 

They waited politely enough for something so dangerous, just barely pressed on the edge of her door wards to alert her of their presence. The parameter wards that looked for the intent to cause harm hadn’t gone off, but Caroline hadn’t gotten to her age by being incautious. Inanely, she wished for her slippers–discarded under her work table–as she padded to the front door and peeked through the peephole. 

The man on her front porch had his back to her while he looked up at the woods that butted up against the front of her property. Her dirt driveway wound through them from the main road up to the garage, and it was free of vehicles of any kind. He was presumably alone, a medium-sized blue pastry box held in one hand. There was something achingly familiar in the breadth of his shoulders in his black coat, the relaxed stance in dark jeans and well broken in boots. She studied the back of his head, his hair a shade that wasn’t sure if it was blond or brown. Slim build, not too much taller than her.

Who the fuck was on her doorstep?

Caroline shoved the sleeves of her chunky cream sweater up her arms and pulled an aneurysm to the fingertips of her right hand, jerking the door open. “Excuse you, but my consultation hours are clearly stated on–” He turned to face her, and she froze at the sight of a face she had never expected to see again. A smile curved the lips that time had not let her forget, and she watched in numb fascination as gold bled into his irises.

“On your website?” He trailed his eyes from the messy bun keeping her blonde hair out of her face, down her cable-knit sweater and fleece-lined leggings to her wool socked feet. The gold faded back to familiar blue as he met her eyes again, his gaze no less warm for the lack. “Yes, well, I did bring a peace offering.” He made a small gesture with the box.

“Klaus,” she whispered hoarsely. There was an odd ringing in her ears and she blinked a few times. No, he was still there.

“Yes,” he said, almost reassuringly. 

Her eyes dropped to the box. “That’s for me?” Her voice sounded funny. Klaus was starting to look a little concerned, which was weird because Klaus didn’t do concerned.

“I understand that they’re your favorite,” he said with a self-deprecating little shrug in acknowledgement of what he had always called ‘information gathering’ and she had always called ‘stalking.’

Her hands moved forward as emotion started to seep in, and he placed the box in them. Klaus stepped back carefully and pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “Caroline, I wanted to–”

She stepped back and slammed the door in his face so hard the windows rattled. For good measure, she twisted the deadbolt, and it slid home loudly.

“Plan C then,” she heard him mutter quietly, with an odd note of relief in his voice. “Go away, Klaus!” She put her back against the door as if that would add to her defenses. The anger was well and truly riding her, and her hands trembled slightly against the box. Scowling at it, she noted the logo of her favorite bakery. In Paris. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t throw the box out.