Chapter Text
September 2, 2012
Rousseau’s was quiet.
“Not bad for a first day on the job, huh?” said the blonde beside her, who was expertly mixing a drink without needing to reference any notes.
The brunette assented, then glanced around at the empty tables. “It’s a lot quieter than what I was expecting. I’m assuming it’s not always like this?”
The blonde shook her head. “Not always. I admit, part of it is my fault.”
“Because of the Guerreras?”
The woman let out a light laugh. “You know, it’s gonna be hard to get used to you knowing about all this. Everyone who knows about it is supernatural. You and me… well, we’re powerless against any witch, wolf, or vampire who tried to hurt us. But yes, because of the Guerreras. Francesca is such a bitch.”
The brunette pursed her lips. “I’ll be meeting them today. I’m a little nervous.”
“I’ll be honest with you, you should have stayed wherever you were before coming here. You shouldn’t try and mess with the Guerreras. It’s a bad idea.”
“I need to get information. They have no clue who I’m acquainted with here other than you, because they’ve already seen us together. They won’t suspect anything. I just need to pick which brother I’m going after.”
The blonde waved her over to the side, and pulled out a small notebook with the Guerrera family tree. “This is what my uncle left me, after he died. It lists out too many generations of Guerreras to count. Here, it is listed who Francesca’s brothers are. From oldest to youngest: Antonio, thirty. Benito, twenty-nine. Carlos, twenty-six. Domonique, twenty-five. Francesca is the youngest.” She lowered her voice. “What exactly is the plan? Klaus told Marcel, but Marcel said he couldn’t tell me.”
The bell rung at the door, letting them know they had a customer. The blonde shoved the notebook back under the bar, and the brunette moved toward a man, who was coming to sit down. It struck both bartenders as odd that he walked with one hand tucked behind his back, and the other raised as if he were speaking with someone. It seemed so formal, and even a bit ancient.
“Hi,” said the brunette, going to stand in front of him and getting a cup. “What can I get you?”
“You’re new here,” the man observed, eyeing her closely.
She frowned a bit. “I am, yes. What would you like to drink?”
“You’re not wearing a nametag.”
Her hand slapped over the part of her shirt where her nametag should have been pinned, and she nearly cursed, realizing she hadn’t put it on. She glanced at the blonde, who swept in to ask for the man’s order instead as the other woman darted to the backroom, digging furiously through her backpack before she found the pin, slapping it on before coming back out, finding her coworker preparing a neat Bourbon for the man.
The man glanced over at her as he watched her cleaning a few glasses behind the bar. “Katya,” he said, reading off her nametag. “Greek origin. Meaning ‘pure.’ Who picked your name for you?”
Katya tried to be respectful in the way she answered him. “My birth mother. Who picked yours?”
“My mother,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Vincent Griffith.” She shook it, and he asked, “Is Cami your mentor?”
She looked at Cami, who was organizing the bottles that were hidden from view. “Oh, yes, she agreed to mentor me. This is my first time working as a bartender.”
“Wow.” Vincent raised his brows and looked at Cami. “That’s wonderful. Taking some control over your life, giving to others.”
“Vincent is my advisor,” explained Cami, to a very confused Katya. “For my supervised residency before I can become a psychologist.”
“Oh, nice. You studied psychology too, then?”
He nodded. “Yes. Do you study anything?”
Katya shook her head. “Not at the moment, no. I graduated from Emory in May. Bachelor’s of Science in Biology. I’m taking a gap year before I go to Tulane— hopefully— next fall.”
Vincent seemed impressed. “That’s wonderful. Well,” he took the last sip of his bourbon. “It has been nice to meet you, Katya. I have to run. I’ll see you soon.” He slid a ten dollar bill toward Cami before nodding to them and walking away.
“He likes you,” said Cami, nudging Katya with her hip as the woman made to retrieve the notebook with the names of the Guerrera family.
Katya scrunched up her nose. “He just met me, that’s absurd. How old is he, anyway?”
“He’s three years older than me. So… twenty seven. Only four years older than you.”
Katya shrugged. “I didn’t come here to check out the guys. I came to help Hayley.” She slid her finger over the names of the Guerrera brothers. “Antonio,” she decided. “The oldest.”
“What’s the plan?” asked Cami again, leaning over her as she flipped to another page, showing her where there were pictures of the Guerrera brothers.
The brunette bit her lip, doing her best to memorize Antonio’s face. “Well, when Hayley told me that the Guerreras killed her baby, I jokingly told her I’d be willing to seduce one of them to find out where their weak spots are. Guess it’s actually a necessity. Four months ago, an innocent baby died because the Guerreras wanted to hurt Hayley and the Mikaelsons. It took me long enough to get down here. I need to do this now.”
She lowered her voice. “Basically, I’m going to lure one of them to my apartment. Hayley’s the only one who’s been invited in, so she’ll be waiting in there, and when I take the guy in, she’ll knock him out and take him to the Mikaelson Compound. Elijah and Klaus will go into his mind, get information, and decide whether they attack the Guerreras tonight or not. They probably will decide to attack, because they can’t compel the dude to forget what happened. From there, well, it’ll depend on how they want to do it. I was told I won’t be involved in the rest of it, for my own safety. With any luck, the Guerreras will be dead by morning.”
_
Her shift ended at noon. She headed to her apartment, which was about a one minute walk from the bar— a spacious studio apartment still filled with boxes that Katya had yet to open.
She slipped on the sexiest dress she owned, along with a full face of makeup, then covered herself in a blazer to not be so obvious about what she was up to before walking back out of her home, carrying the heels she’d be using shortly.
Her parents would be so disappointed in her.
She’d grown up in a very strict Russian household in California. An older couple— Luda and Andrei Kozlov— acquired her through a closed adoption with her birth mother, who apparently had French ancestry. Growing up, she’d been teased relentlessly for her surname. Kozlov meant ‘goat,’ and as a result, many referred to her as ‘Goat Girl.’ She’d made a point to never practice her Russian. To reject what she’d grown up with.
Her parents had since passed, and she had abandoned everyone she knew in California to start her own life in Georgia. They’d never known anything about the supernatural world, and Katya was glad it had been so. They had been safer in life without that knowledge. They had died naturally and peacefully, together, though likely expecting that their daughter would remain ever the obedient girl they’d raised.
She’d met Hayley Marshall just after finishing her junior year at Emory. At the time, the hybrid, previously a wolf, had been running with a pack in Atlanta. They met at a bar, and a very drunk Hayley had told Katya everything about werewolves and vampires.
Katya had kept her secret, and the two had been in touch for months afterward, forging a friendship that distance could not break. Hayley had told Katya about her pregnancy when she learned of it, but since she wasn’t done with school, Katya hadn’t been able to go to New Orleans to support her.
Though Hope was not dead, Hayley couldn’t risk telling Katya the truth. Any vampire could go into her mind and learn about her little girl’s whereabouts, and it was just too dangerous.
Thus, Katya had come straight to New Orleans to keep her grieving friend company. Hayley would sneak to her apartment, to ensure no one would find out that Katya knew the Mikaelsons. They would talk and drink, and sometimes, Hayley would cry, because her loss was real, even if the death of her child wasn’t. Katya would hold her, stroking her hair and giving the best advice she could.
Though the hybrid hadn’t wanted to let Katya get too involved in Mikaelson matters, it had been difficult to continue lying to her, and eventually, she’d told her about the Guerreras, and the conflict with the witches that led to Hope’s ‘death.’ Katya offered to get them the information she needed, and Klaus had insisted that Hayley say yes.
As Hayley put it, he’d been all too eager to have Katya sacrifice herself if need be, considering she was so insistent on pitching in. Klaus didn’t sound like the nicest person in the world, but Katya knew he was hurting, too, even if he wasn’t the type to talk to anyone about it.
She knew that some part of him was good, and she only hoped that Hayley could find solace in him at some point. Elijah certainly wasn’t being helpful. According to Hayley, he hadn’t spoken to her properly since she became a hybrid. Katya had offered to scold him, but Hayley thought it best that Katya not meet Elijah just yet. She knew her friend wouldn’t be able to hold back from making a comment about how rude he was being.
She entered the Palace Royale casino at last, sliding the blazer off and tucking it under her arm as she walked around, trying to spot the Guerrera brothers. This was it. This was her moment to help. Damn the consequences. She was a true Mikaelson ally from this moment forward.
As she moved deeper into the building, she caught sight of the two youngest ones, at one of the poker tables. She reached the bar, and sure enough, Antonio was there, a few seats away from his sister.
Katya had to bite the inside of her mouth hard to keep from saying anything to Francesca. She wanted to say and do so many things to make that woman suffer, but as a human, she couldn’t win, and it was just better to keep quiet.
She went to stand close to Antonio, staring up at the options for drinks and pursing her lips, as if she had no clue what to get. “I’m sorry,” she said, waving at him and making him turn. “Have you been here before? The menu is literally so simple, but I’m overwhelmed.”
He smiled, showing her a perfect set of teeth. “Oh, baby, my family owns the place. I come here everyday. Is it your first time?”
“Yeah,” she said, allowing a blush to rise into her cheeks as she set her blazer onto a chair, then sat on top of it. Moving even further away from his sister, the wolf came to sit beside her.
“Antonio Guerrera,” he said, holding his hand out to her. She shook it, replying with, “Katya Kozlov.”
“Well, Katya,” he glanced at the menu, “what do you normally enjoy drinking?”
“Is it too stereotypical if I say vodka?” she offered awkwardly, adding a half-hearted giggle.
He winked. “There’s nothing wrong with vodka.” He waved over the bartender. “A Cosmopolitan, for the lady, and a Vesper, for me.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking out her wallet, flashing the bartender her driver’s license before starting to pull out some money.
Antonio pushed her hand down. “Nonsense, you won’t pay. My treat.”
“It would be rude of me to take advantage of the fact that your family owns the place,” she said, though she tucked the wallet back into her purse.
“Is it an advantage if we both benefit?” he asked, leaning closer to her.
He was wearing too much cologne, and she took an unfortunately big whiff of it. “Right,” she managed, biting her lip slightly. The waiter slid them their drinks, and she held hers up, smirking a bit. “The drink from Sex and the City. Cute.”
“Too bold?” he asked, trying out his Vesper.
“No, no.” She took his drink, drawing a sip from right where he’d placed his own lips, just seconds before. “I like it.”
She was driving him to her apartment within minutes of them finishing their drinks. She could tell he was eager, his hand planted firmly on her thigh, rubbing circles over it each time she stopped at a light. She kept from making noise, focused on her task even when his thumb started to toy with the hem of her underwear.
He couldn’t wait until they got inside, which was perfect for her. He started to kiss her neck as she made to unlock the door, and as soon as it swung open, she pulled him inside, pressing her mouth to his and kicking back to slam the door shut. She allowed him to pin her to the nearest wall, hands working furiously to remove her dress.
“Man, you’re strong,” she commented, seeing Hayley peeking out from the bathroom.
“You have no idea, honey,” he said, turning her to face away from him and tearing right through the back of her dress.
Hayley sped forward, putting him in a chokehold. Katya kept still, as if she wasn’t noticing anything, and didn’t move until she heard Hayley let out a huff.
“Thanks,” the hybrid said. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, he just ruined the dress. Which is fine, honestly, I’ve had this thing for years. That’s it?”
Hayley nodded. “That’s it. I recommend you get back for your next shift quickly. Stay there until I call you. If any of the Guerreras see you, they’re going to know something is up. In there, you’re a lot safer.”
Katya did as told. Cami was done for the day, which meant that Katya was left with one of the other bartenders, a man named Derek, who let her know it was okay to ask questions, but not too many of them. She’d attracted a lot more tips that time around, even though she made a few mistakes. The makeup was certainly helping.
She was cleaning the bar an hour before closing time, when the door rang, and she glanced up, seeing Vincent Griffith there again.
“Hi,” she said, gesturing to her nametag. “Fixed it this time.”
He grinned. “Yes, you did.” He gestured to her face. “That looks lovely. It’s interesting, seeing how much makeup techniques have changed throughout history. I think it looks wonderful on you.”
She blushed. “That’s sweet of you to say. I might do this more often.” She patted the tip jar. “Sometimes, I love creepy old white men.”
Vincent chuckled lightly. “Perhaps, the only reason to ever love ‘creepy old white men,’ as you put it. Do you normally work this late?”
She glanced at the clock, which read one o’clock in the morning. “This is my first time working past midnight, actually, I didn’t really notice. Should I assume you were working, too?”
He nodded. “I tend to lose track of time when I’m at my office. I find it funny that I study the mind, yet, still know so little about it, considering how much is yet to be discovered.”
“I know even less than you, so I think you’re good,” said Katya, turning back to get him a glass.
“Is Camille already done with her shift?” he asked, making a gesture that indicated he wanted the same drink as before. She poured it, and he nodded gratefully before taking a small sip.
“Yeah, she got off a while ago,” replied the brunette. “Did you need to see her? I could text her.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry. It can wait for our next meeting. How are you settling into New Orleans?”
“It’s nice here. I’d always wanted to come visit, but I never could. My parents weren’t big fans of traveling.”
“This is perhaps one of my favorite cities in the world,” he told her. “I didn’t grow up here, but I had been here before. I was simply… unable to enjoy it, the way others I knew did. Thankfully, I am here now, and I’m able to relish in it.”
“Do you travel often?” she asked, seeing he was looking at the menu, as if he intended to get food this time.
“I did, in the past. I reiterate— unable to enjoy any of the places I went to.”
“That sucks. How come?”
He pursed his lips. “Family problems. It’s hard to enjoy anything when one is… imprisoned.”
Katya winced. “Sorry to hear that. You’re free now, right? That’s good. You should get to explore and enjoy life.”
“Well said. Unfortunately, they did not feel the same way.”
She pulled out two shot cups, pouring them some bourbon. “To escaping family.”
His lips curled up. “To escaping family.” He downed his shot, then sighed. “I couldn’t help but notice— was it you I saw entering the Palace Royale Casino, earlier today?”
She turned even redder than before. “Oh. Um… yes. I heard their drinks were good, and since I’m a bartender now, I thought I ought to do a bit of tasting.”
“Be careful in places like that, Katya. They tend to have bad people in them. You could get hurt, if you get in with the wrong crowd.”
“I’m being careful, I promise. Have you decided what you’d like to order?” She glanced down at her phone, seeing Hayley had texted her, “Guerreras are dead.”
Vincent, thankfully, didn’t see the screen. “I would like some cajun onion rings to start out.” He glanced at the clock. “At what time does your shift end?”
“It already ended, technically. I just wanted to make a good impression on my first day, and I tried not to look at the clock, which of course, with my luck, ended in me staying an extra hour.”
Really, she just hadn’t been able to leave until the coast was clear.
“You’re a hard worker,” he noted. “I do hope they pay you for that. You must want to get home to your family.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have family here. Or anywhere, really. Just a lot of close friends, spread out through the country. I’d be going home to an apartment filled with unpacked boxes.”
Vincent pursed his lips. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to dine with me?”
She found herself smiling. “It’s not wrong, but I don’t know how my manager would feel if he saw me with one of the customers, while in uniform. Give me a few minutes, I’ll change into my civilian clothes.”
He waited for her, and she returned once one of the other servers had brought him the onion rings. He pulled out a seat for her, and she sank down, seeing how carefully he wielded his eating utensils.
“You’re so proper,” she noticed. “The way you walk and eat… are you secret royalty?”
He let out a hearty laugh. “Heavens, no. Though, my family likes to think that highly of themselves.”
“Is that why you escaped them? They were arrogant?”
“Arrogant, paranoid, obsessive, selfish, controlling… so many things. I suppose it’s why I became a psychologist. To study all the things that might explain why they are the way they are.”
“And did it grant you what you sought?”
“Somewhat, yes. Enough talk about me, I must be boring you to death. Tell me more about you.”
He’d walked her to her apartment when Rousseau’s had closed. Taking her hand and kissing it, he’d waited for her to go in and lock the door before he left, having ensured she arrived home safely.
The next evening had been terrible for her.
Second day on the job, and already, she was hurt. She’d been working a later shift, keeping an eye on one of Cami’s friends, Davina, who was there with a boy her age. As far as Katya knew, Davina was some sort of witch. The boy, she didn’t recognize.
Then, suddenly, there were wolves everywhere. The boy— Kaleb, it seemed— was hurled through the air, and his body slammed into Katya’s as he sailed right over the bar. She was thrown back, hitting her head and falling unconscious, leaving her to miss Mikael’s appearance, but also, keeping Elijah and Marcel from realizing that she needed medical attention.
Kol had panicked. Finn had already told him about Katya, and the youngest brother had done his fair share of teasing. He knew Finn would skin him alive if he learned that Kol had left the very human girl dead in Rousseau’s.
He’d tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the Lafayette Cemetery as soon as the coast was clear.
“What the hell is this?” demanded Finn, shocked when Kol set Katya’s body on the ground. “You killed her?!”
“Of course I didn’t, you bloody prat!” snapped Kol. “Your wolves nearly murdered the both of us tonight! I got lucky I woke up. This one’s almost as good as dead.”
Esther had watched as her son dropped to his knees, examining Katya before scooping her up, placing her on the nearest table, and making a mixture of herbs he then poured down her throat, healing her internal injuries.
Without bothering to explain to his mother who she was, he’d taken her to her apartment, carrying her inside and tucking her into her own bed before leaving to retrieve the things she’d left behind at Rousseau’s.
She had no memory of the incident the following day. She just figured she’d been too tired to remember any of it. She was mildly surprised when, just days later, he arrived at the bar to check on her.
“Careful, Mr. Griffith,” she teased when she brought him his food. “If my manager thinks you’re trying to court me, he’ll ask for a dowry.”
“That’s a good sign for me to start saving money,” he teased right back. “Camille has spoken quite highly of you. I imagine you’re worth at least a trillion dollars.”
She lightly smacked him with the clean rag she’d just fetched. “Don’t flirt with me while I’m working, I’ll turn as red as that wine.”
Katya, knowing Hayley had too many stressors in her life at the moment, hadn’t thought to tell her about what was going on between her and Vincent. It wasn’t anything serious to begin with. By the end of that week, Hayley had learned of Vincent’s true identity. Katya remained oblivious. Hayley, who just wanted to keep Katya as safe as possible, neglected to tell her that Finn and Kol Mikaelson were roaming around the city.
She hadn’t found anything out until weeks later, when Cami had called her, asking her to meet her at an unfamiliar address.
“What is this place?” said Katya, looking around the small room filled with shelves of boxes holding strange objects, as well as thick, old books.
“My Uncle Kieran’s secret apartment, where he kept the records the O’Connells have been in charge of for decades in this city. Something is off about Vincent Griffith.”
Katya frowned, peering into a box. “What do you mean? He’s… nice.”
“He’s more than nice, he’s… creepily observant. You told me you really liked that drink I made you, the one I invented which I still haven’t named. He ordered that exact thing today when you weren’t there.”
“Really? I hadn’t yet told him about that. That’s odd.”
“It’s more than odd,” said Cami, flipping frantically through a larger book, her finger slipping through each page she skimmed until she stopped, seeing the name ‘Vincent Griffith.’
“I bet you want a new advisor right about now,” came Marcel Gerard’s voice, making both women flinch.
“Who is he, Marcel?” asked Cami. “I mean, really? Because this guy has been coming into Rousseau’s for weeks to talk to Katya, and every time he and I talk, it makes me feel strange, like I’m the one who’s working as a psychologist, and not him.”
Marcel pursed his lips. “Long story short is… impossible.”
“I checked the school website, too,” said Cami, talking so fast, Katya felt like her own head was spinning. “Vincent Griffith has no other academic credentials. And, according to my Uncle Kieran's big book of New Orlean's bloodlines, Griffith is a family of witches.”
“Oh, it’s worse than that,” said Marcel. “Your therapist,” he then looked at Katya, “your boyfriend, has a thousand-year-old dead vampire inside of him named… Finn Mikaelson.”
Katya and Cami’s mouths dropped open. “Mikaelson?” repeated Katya. “As in, Klaus and Elijah Mikaelson?”
“My advisor is Klaus’s brother?” gasped Cami. “The guy who’s been walking Katya to her apartment every night is— oh my god, Marcel! He came into Rousseau’s today, asking questions about Klaus. Why?”
Marcel shrugged. “Probably to get the scoop on Klaus. Or, maybe to use you both as bait for a trap. I don't know. It doesn't matter. Either way, you're both done with that guy.” He pointed at Katya. “Either rent an apartment closer to Cami, or ask Klaus if he’ll let you move into the Compound. Better yet, pack your things, and go back home. You’re not safe out there if Finn Mikaelson has taken a special interest in you.”
“Have you ever met him?” said Katya worriedly. “Should I be panicking right now?”
“No, I haven’t met him, but according to Klaus, he’s a mama’s boy who hated being a vampire and tried to sacrifice himself to kill all his siblings.”
“We’re just getting started on uncovering all of this,” said Cami. “I can’t give up, Marcel.”
“So, what?” he asked. “You’re gonna spy on a witch with a thousand-year-old grudge-match against Klaus? Nuh uh. I’m not gonna let either of you go anywhere near that guy!”
“I’m with Cami,” said Katya, furrowing her brows. “Something is up. I came here to help Hayley get information. To give her a hand wherever else she needed it. If her family is about to descend into chaos, then I think I can manage chatting up a vampire.”
“Exactly,” said Cami. “Marcel, Vin— Finn really likes her. This is an opportunity. We could both keep an eye on them whenever they’re together. He won’t hurt her out in the open.”
“Okay, I get it,” said Marcel, holding his hands up. “You’re both mad at the guy, and you wanna get even, so—“
“It’s not about getting even, Marcel!” said Cami. “Look around! Everything in this room, this is my family's legacy. And, if I had just embraced it the first time around, I could have uncovered Francesca Guerrera's secret. And, the wolves would have never taken over the Quarter, and Klaus's baby would still be alive, so don't tell me to not get involved! Katya and I both made a commitment to help Hayley. And I made a commitment to help Klaus. We’re both willing to fake it. He has no clue that we know. It works to our advantage!”
Marcel’s phone began to ring, and he held up his hand. “Hold that thought.” A pause. “Tell me you have your Alpha.” Another, longer pause. “Yeah, yeah, I think I might have an idea…”
He hung up, and looked at Katya. “How do you feel about distracting Finn Mikaelson tonight?”
She figured that would be her only purpose there. Distract. Seduce. Pretend. She didn’t mind it. If it would bring Hayley peace after losing her child, so be it.
Finn expected to be killed the instant he completed the task his mother set out for him. One drink left him to realize he’d never be able to finish it.
If Katya was to be the real death of him, he’d go happily. What else was there to lose? He was already tainted.