#opp: davina claire

[murderselfies]

“You’re probably wondering why I called a family meeting?” Malachai asked as he stood before his brothers and sister, with their father’s journal in hand. “Well, it’s quite simple, really. Page 43, ‘we must destroy the Chance Harbor Circle in order to be reunited with our estranged. Our true power will be granted only after our Circle is complete. A Circle of six.’ We need Cassie and Diana. Without them, our magic will cease to mature. With them, we will become the most powerful coven, ever. So I did the honors of drawing up an objective for the each of us to carry out and fulfill. Sister, Davina, I want you to locate Jake Armstrong. Find him, bewitch him, and then destroy him. Same will be said for the rest of you. Kol, you’ll have the displeasure of Faye Chamberlain. Nick, you’ll learn what a true bromance looks like with Adam Contant. And, I, will take care of Melissa Glaser. Just remember. Witches are aces at passion and lust but when it comes to love, do not. If you can’t carry out the task, then you’ll be the reason this coven falls apart, and I won’t allow that to happen. So earn your spot here or find a permanent resting place beside our fallen father.”

Anyone who had the displeasure of knowing Malachai Parker knows he doesn’t make empty threats. He was the infamous siphoner who killed his own twin sister in order to take her magic and become a full-fledged witch. There’s nothing he won’t do to get what he wants. So killing anyone who stands against him won’t be much of an issue. He was somewhat of a sociopath. A witch without remorse, without empathy, or love.  

With the meeting adjourned, and a few argumentative witches clamoring for a repeal, Kol slammed his bedroom door shut with Davina beside him. He didn’t want to leave her. If he was put in charge, he would have done things differently, as a family. Malachai shouldn’t be in charge of anything or anyone, when he so clearly has no perception of family. He was a weasel, with the appearance of a promising companion, but the notorious Machiavellian streak of a psychotic killer. 

“Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned democracy huh? None of us would have elected that psychopath to be in charge! Who knows how long this’ll take. Or how far the Chance Harbor witches are spread out from one another.” What if Jake and Faye weren’t in the same city? State? Country? This could be the last night Kol and Davina see each other for quite a while. “Between you and I, he killed his twin sister because he knew she would have been here with us today, not him. He doesn’t even belong here. He’s a goddamn abomination.” Kol didn’t actually hate his brother, but anyone who attempts to pull him away from his sister. His partner in crime, best friend, and lover. “Before I go back in there and take an axe to his head, why don’t we have a looksee? See if this Faye and Jake are together.” Kol spread a map out over his desk and then retrieved a few vials of blood John Blackwell acquired from the witch hunters. 

“Let’s start with your boy toy first, shall we?” Kol knew a spell for astral travel. Way more fun than simply watching the blood pool around their target’s whereabouts. They could appear as apparitions, watch and study what they do before having to hunt them down and lop their heads off. “...Hand, sister.” Kol turned his palm upward to accept Davina’s hand before he slid an enchanted dagger across her skin. He smiled when she flinched and then dragged his tongue over her cut with a wicked smirk, “Mmm.” No part of Davina Claire should ever go untasted. After squeezing a few droplets of her blood onto the map, Kol slit his own hand open and pumped his fist above the same location. “Phasmatos Tribum…” He turned his head with eyes on Davina, “Nas Ex Veras.” A second later, the room they were standing in fell into darkness. Pitch black. Then suddenly, two orbs of glowing light started heading their way. 

The road was as long as the night was black. Jake felt a little uneasy bringing his grandfather back into the war between witches, but Royce was the one who warned Jake about the Dark Circle and the Balcoin children. Royce spent the last sixteen years of his life carefully studying John Blackwell’s plan. In fact he became so obsessed with these conspiracies that he lost all credibility as a witch and became somewhat of a crazy old man, known for rambling on about the end of time. “You know you didn’t have to come with me?” Jake reminded Royce who’s been a little under the weather. “You say that, son, but you were also manipulated and taken advantage of once before. You need structure. To be frank.” Royce gave a smile. If it were anyone else sitting beside Jake in his old Toyota, he would have kicked them to the curb for saying such things. But Jake needed his granddad. He was the only family he had left.  

“While we’re here… let’s have at it?” Kol delighted as he raised a hand in front of the truck as it barreled closer. “There’s people on the road…be careful.” Royce pointed at the windshield and Jake shifted his foot to the brake pedal, but instead of the truck slowing down, it moved faster. “Motus.” Kol chanted and the truck followed the wave of his hand, off the road and over a guardrail. The sound of metal colliding with tree thundered, and the asphalt beneath Kol and Davina’s feet vibrated. “Somethings are better left quick. Others could use a little more passion.” A lascivious smirk crossed Kol’s lips as they were transported back into his room. Meanwhile, cities away, Jake let out a long, whining groan as he hung upside down by his seat belt. Beside him, Royce was hanging a little more haphazardly, with a broken neck. “Ugh Granddad…” Jake unbuckled himself and fell against the crooked steering wheel. There was gas leaking and a fire starting. It took Jake a minute to notice his grandfather was gone. Dead. Still. He managed to pull his body from the truck before it exploded. And as the flames rose and the smoke spiraled, Kol waved his hand over the burnt wood in his fireplace, igniting a fire of his own. “Now we can stay together. And you say I’m not romantic...”