It was night in the Quarter at one of the most busiest clubs in the city.

Freya Mikaelson was drinking and dancing with several men on the dance floor.

I walked closer with shots in hand, offering one of them to Freya. "Need a break from the family drama?"

Freya took the shot glass from me, raising it toward me in a toast. "Thank you." She took the shot. "Mm. See, I've been trying to get my brothers to mend fences, but Elijah remains bitter, and Klaus remains obstinate." She smiled. "Thus, tequila."

I chuckled. "Thing is, it's almost midnight."

Freya looked at me in confusion. "Well, I'm not wearing glass slippers..." I gave her a look, shaking my head. Freya remembered that we were holding one of the vampires' abattoir parties that night, pouting. "Do you have to turn the best club in town into your personal blood bank?"

I led Freya toward the door. "We feed on tourists, compel them to forget, locals turn a blind eye. That's how NOLA works. Has been for a long time. So, unless you want to become an appetizer..."

Freya made a face. "Pass."

I smiled. "Good."

Freya smirked, grabbing the hand of a very tall frat boy dressed in a green polo, pulling him toward the door, calling out to me. "This one's coming with me."

Freya walked out, leaving with the frat boy.

I smirked, shaking my head, chuckling.

***

I was partying, drinking, feeding.

Marcel walked toward me. "We got a problem."

I looked at Marcel in confusion, a little annoyed with being stopped

***

Outside of a cafe, a pile of smoldering, ashen corpses was laying in a pile on the patio, where a large crowd of Versailles witches had gathered. 

Some were crying near the bodies, others had their arms around each other to comfort each other from afar. 

Marcel and I were watching from a nearby stall.

"Eleven bodies, a lot of pissed off loved ones," Marcel told me. "They thought it was a vampire thing, but all our guys are accounted for at the abattoir last night."

A young man, Van Nguyen, arrived, looking around frantically. "Where's my mom? Where is she?" An older man nearby put his arm around Van's shoulders, holding him tight. Van realized what had just happened. "No, no, no, no!"

Van fell to his knees, beginning to sob.

Other members of the cove swarmed around him to comfort him.

Marcel looked unhappy, turning to me. "That kid's mom is Kara Nguyen. A witch that targeted Davina yesterday. I told her to give the witches a show of force, and I think she took that a little too literally."

I looked at him in surprise. "You don't think that Davina did this?"

"I think it's awfully convenient this happened so soon after I told her to do a show of force," Marcel answered. "I don't know, Noah. I pray to God that I'm wrong, but if I'm not..."

"Then Davina's in serious trouble," I finished.

Marcel nodded. "Yeah."

***

Marcel and I were still standing in the shadows.

Davina approached the crowd of mourners, addressing them in a shaky voice. "Versailles witches, this is an unbearable tragedy. In the wake of such sorrow, please allow me to bring you under the protection of the Ancestors. Whoever did this was strong, and, for all we know, might return. If you follow my rules, I promise to keep you safe. Nothing like this will ever happen to you. Not again."

Marcel and I exchanged a look, more convinced that she was involved in the slaughter.

Van, too, seemed to become suspicious of Davina's motives as well.

***

Marcel and I had gone to Lafayette Cemetery, but I let Marcel talk to Davina.

Davina walked toward Kol's old playhouse.

Marcel was waiting for her, looking at Davina seriously. "You're gonna need to take care of those bodies. Discretely."

Davina nodded. "I know. Keep everything covered up, keep it out of the papers."

"Davina..." Marcel trailed off. "Tell me you didn't do this."

"You're the one who told me I had to use a sign of force," Davina told him defensively.

"Against the one who went after you," Marcel told her. "I did not suggest a massacre."

"Are you really gonna lecture me about dead witches?" Davina asked. "This is New Orleans. We're always at war, and collateral damage happens. I learned that from you."

Marcel gave her a look. "Guess who I learned that from? You're not gonna get the better of Klaus by becoming him, alright? You need a break. Get out, live a little, have some fun. Vincent should have never gotten you into this. You're too young to have that kind of blood on your hands."

"I'm a French Quarter witch," Davina told him angrily. "I was born with blood on my hands." She turned to head into the mausoleum, but took one last look at Marcel. "And you're not supposed to be in the cemetery, Marcel."

Davina walked inside.

We were only more worried about her and her behavior, especially when we heard her start to cry in the crypt.

***

A small funeral was being held for the eleven dead Versailles witches.

Their bodies were wrapped in white as per their tradition as they consecrated their remains so they could join the Ancestors. 

Mourners were placing flowers on the bodies of their loved ones as they continued to all comfort each other. 

Davina arrived in a black dress, standing on the outskirts of the crowd.

Van was kneeling in front of his mother's body, seeing that Davina was there, standing, walking toward Davina. "Those remains used to be my mom."

Despite Davina's role in Kara's death, she did seem to feel genuinely sorry for him. "I'm so sorry."

"Spare me," Van told her angrily. "She went after you."

"We had our differences, but--" Davina started.

"Look," Van told her. "I'm gonna find out how this happened, and I'm gonna expose you. Then, you'll be shunned. Unable to practice, exiled from the city. Basically, I'm gonna erase you."

Van walked away, leaving.

Davina was left behind to worry about the potential consequences of her actions.

I knew that she was too young and too angry to be Regent, when she would retaliate like this.

And it was a danger to continue having her as Regent after what just happened because it could her, and others, severely hurt...

Or worse.