"So what services does a man like Marcel Gerard need from little ol' me?" I questioned, sipping the tea he had ordered me from some quaint little café down the street of my apartment. "I mean, you're the "King of the Quarter". Don't you already have everything you could ever want?"

Marcel smiled and took a sip of his coffee, smirking up at me.

"Well, Opey, I need a lot of things to maintain my status. But most of all, I need insurance. You, "the Coven-less Queen" are the most powerful witch the world has ever seen. More powerful than Esther, and she created the damn vampire race."

I quirked my eyebrow at the horrendous nickname I was just deemed, but carried on the conversation.

"So what am I? A vampire's Geico? All-State? Progressive? Dare I say... Farmers?" I asked sarcastically. "Gerard, I am literally the most powerful witch in the world. I am not some sort of upper hand - I'm so much more than that. I get that you want to strike the fear of all of their beloved ancestors into them, I need something greater. Here's what I was thinking. I offer you my services of resident witch and whatnot, in exchange for my protection and my freedom. I've seen what you and the rest of the vamps do to witches. Lock them up in some sort of Rapunzel situation where they're confined in a small room until you need them. That's not my style. I'm a young woman, not some sort of helpless princess. I can handle myself perfectly fine without you. In fact, one could say that you're my insurance. You ensure my safety and I ensure that you're still king. And much like your agreement, if you so much as fail to protect me from a scraped knee, the deal is off and I kill everyone you've ever met. So, do we still have that deal?"

He looked into my grey eyes and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. He set his coffee down and leaned in closer.

"You don't take shit," He said. "I like that. You, Opey Armstrong, have got yourself one hell of a deal."

I smiled and stood up, grabbing my coat off of the back of my chair.

"Great!" I chirped, lightening the mood drastically. "See you 'round, Marcel!"

"Later, Opey."

As I walked out, I snapped my fingers and smiled as I transferred everything in Marcel's wallet and into the young barista's tip jar. Not like Marcel needed the money anyways, he could simply compel whatever the hell he wanted. Humans didn't exactly have that luxury.

I smiled and took a deep breath, actually taking a moment to be aware of my surroundings. That was one of the things that I completely took for granted whilst on the run for my life. Taking a moment and enjoying where I was. I'm just glad I decided to do it while I was in New Orleans, one of the biggest collections of culture and beauty in the whole of the United States of America. And now that I could roam the streets without getting followed around by a coven of witches in cloaks, I am going to see what some of that New Orleans night life is like.

And that I did. I stood in the nightclub, laughing and drinking straight from the bottle of vodka that I had used my handy dandy magic to get. I danced to the beat of the music, swinging and grinding my hips on the man behind me. Throwing my head back, I giggled and turned around to meet the gaze of someone watching me from the bar. It's not like they could do anything to me, if he did, I'd hex him and Marcel's handy little vampires will storm in and rip him limb from limb. So handled the situation the best way possible. Confrontation. I pushed the drunken man who I was dancing with off of me and made my way to the bar, taking a seat next to the man with the intrusive gaze.

"So," I said, winking. "Come here often?"

The man chuckled and shook his head, looking up at me.

"I can't say that I do." The man said.

Not that I would have expected anything else of an answer. The man stuck out like a sore thumb. While everyone else was in their proper clubbing attire, there he was, in a suit. While everyone else was drinking some sort of "party liquor" or some sort of fruity drink, he was having a bourbon. Right proper freak if you ask me.

"M'name's Ophelia," I introduced. "But my guess is that you already know that. Anyways, I just wanted to inform you that if you try anything, I will rip out your entrails and strangle you with them, then rip out your heart and shove it down your throat. Got it?"

The man wasn't even surprised by my passive aggressive threats to end his life. In fact, he thought they were quite funny judging by the way he chuckled at them.

"So the rumors are true," He began in a posh accent. "You really are as fiery as they say."

"And who might "they" be and why are they talking about me, hmm?"

"'They' is everyone who has any knowledge of the supernatural world, Ophelia Armstrong."

"So what, I'm now the supernatural Kim Kardashian? Or am I more Miley Cyrus?" I asked dryly. "And to be honest, I am getting quite bored of this whole 'Ophelia Armstrong you are the chosen one' prophetic bullshit. So please, if you're here to tell me that my powers are a gift and that I should be thankful for them or whatever, please don't. I've got the whole world after my head. I know what I am, and what I am capable of. I don't need some freak-o in a suit telling me that."

He laughed again and I rolled my eyes, taking a swig from my bottle of vodka.

"I'm surprised that you don't know who I am," He said suddenly.

"Ooh! You're famous in the supernatural realm too?!" I asked, feigning excitement. "So you must be, like, the Brad Pitt! OMG, this is so awesome!"

I dropped the smile and rolled my eyes, getting tired of this whole supernatural shit that seemed to loom over me at every hour of every day. Hell, I'm almost positive I have said the word 'supernatural' more times than my own name.

"No, I am not a 'Brad Pitt', I am an Elijah Mikaelson, and I am an Original." He said calmly, yet still rather pompously and with purpose.

"And I'm sure you're very important, but I have no idea what the hell an 'Original' is." I said slowly, nodding while I did so.

The man looked shocked for a second before covering it up with his seemingly permanent stoic expression.

"I am one of the Original vampires," He explained. "I am over one thousand years old, and all vampires in the world tie back to me and my family."

I scoffed and let out a snort, laughing at the man before me. He looked confused as to why I was laughing, but I mean, I'm rather drunk, and this man is extremely ridiculous.

"Does that amuse you, Ms. Armstrong?" He questioned with his nose in the air.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, calming down. "I just- Everything you just confessed was total utter bullshit!"

He frowned and grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the bar.

"Hey, what the fuck?!" I yelled, glaring at his hand and causing it to burn. "Get off of me, you delusional prick!"

But the man ignored the pain I was causing in his hand and led me outside, grabbing the bottle of vodka out of my hands and throwing it, shattering it.

"Dude, seriously what the-"

"Shh!" He whispered sharply, pulling me closer into his chest, silencing me.

Confused and quite intimidated by his impeccable strength, I stayed quiet and listed to the faint sound of the thumping bass and the crowd inside going wild for some reason.

"Come on, it isn't safe here. Not for you nor for me." He said lowly, beginning to drag me along again.

"What? Why?" I asked, stopping us in the middle of the street. "Look, Marcel Gerard promised me my protection today, he can't be that shitty with making deals. I'm sure I'll be-"

"Ophelia, I know that you and Marcel have come up with some sort of agreement and people he has made sure that no one harms you. But that doesn't change the fact that there are ears everywhere," He said quickly and quietly. "I would watch what you say Ophelia. They can't hurt you physically, but they can pin your weaknesses against you. They're always going to be one step ahead of you that way. You may be the most powerful witch of all time, but that doesn't change the fact that mental weaknesses aren't just as bad if not worse."

My eyes widened, acknowledging that he was in fact right. They sure as hell couldn't touch me, but that didn't mean that they couldn't find out everything there is to know about me.

"C'mon," I whispered, taking his hand and beginning to walk again.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"The safest place in the world," I answered. "My apartment."