Chapter 27: Marcel's Beast Transformation
The vampire moved wrong.
That was my first clue something had changed. Lucien Castle—I recognized him from my meta-knowledge, one of the first vampires Klaus sired—was fighting Elijah in the street outside a warehouse, and his speed was wrong. Faster than an Original should be. Stronger. More aggressive.
And his bite...
I watched from three rooftops away as Lucien caught Elijah's arm and bit down. Elijah screamed—actually screamed, which Originals didn't do—and tore himself free, stumbling backward.
The wound wasn't healing.
"Shit," I muttered.
Lucien laughed, wiping blood from his mouth. "How does it feel, Elijah? To finally have something that can kill you?"
Then he was gone, blurring away before Klaus arrived with reinforcements.
I stayed on the rooftop, watching Elijah collapse, watching Klaus catch him with genuine panic on his face. The wound on Elijah's arm was turning black, veins darkening like poison spreading.
Enhanced Original. Upgraded. And that bite is lethal.
I pulled out my phone, called Davina. "We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"The kind where someone just created a vampire that can kill Originals with a bite. I need you to research upgraded Original serums. Now."
"On it."
I hung up and watched the chaos below. Klaus was screaming for Freya, for anyone who could help. Hayley had appeared, taking Hope inside away from the violence.
And I felt nothing through the bloodline. No transfer. No absorption beginning.
Because Lucien isn't my bloodline. He's Klaus's. The evolution won't transfer unless...
Unless someone in my direct line took the serum.
The research took three days.
Davina found references in old grimoires to enhancement magic. Freya had apparently created the serum using werewolf venom, magic, and vampire blood. The result was a "Beast"—stronger than Originals, faster, with a bite that could actually kill them.
Lucien had been the test subject. Now he was terrorizing the city, proving his superiority over the beings who'd made him.
Klaus wanted him dead.
I wanted his power.
"This is dangerous thinking," Davina said when I explained my plan. "If you get that venom, you can kill the Mikaelsons. All of them. That's going to change how they see you."
"It'll change how Esther and Mikael see me. If they ever come back." I paced the warehouse. "That venom is the final piece. The ultimate weapon. With it, I can end them permanently."
"At what cost, Roy? The Mikaelsons are your friends now. Klaus trusts you with Hope. Elijah drinks bourbon with you. Kol blows up buildings with you. You're family."
"They're not my family. They're the children of my torturers."
"Keep telling yourself that." She closed the grimoire. "But when you look at Hope, when you prank Klaus, when you debate philosophy with Elijah—that's family. And acquiring a weapon that can kill them? That's going to hurt that family. Even if you never use it."
She left before I could argue.
I stood in the warehouse, alone, and tried to figure out what I actually wanted.
Revenge? Or this weird, complicated thing I'd built in New Orleans?
Marcel took the serum five days later.
I watched from the shadows as Vincent performed the ritual in an abandoned church. Marcel had been backed into a corner by Klaus—king of the city versus the Original Hybrid, centuries of tension finally boiling over.
And Marcel chose power.
The transformation was brutal. Marcel convulsed on the floor, screaming as his body rewrote itself into something beyond Original. Stronger. Faster. Lethal.
When he stood, his eyes had changed. Still Marcel. Still himself. But more.
The Beast was born.
And the moment his transformation completed, I felt it.
Burning. In my fangs, in my bloodline connection, in the hybrid nature that tied me to every vampire evolution. The Beast venom beginning its transfer.
"There it is," I whispered.
Twenty-four to forty-eight hours. That's how long evolution absorption took.
I had two days before I possessed the power to kill Originals.
I isolated myself in the warehouse basement.
Marcus stood guard upstairs with strict instructions: no one in, no matter who asked. Davina had reluctantly agreed to stay away, though she'd left enough blood bags to last me a week.
The transfer started at hour twelve.
My hybrid fangs burned like someone had shoved hot coals in my mouth. I could feel the venom developing, my body adapting Marcel's enhancement through the bloodline connection. Not as strong as Marcel—he was the direct recipient—but enough.
Enough to be lethal.
The pain peaked at hour thirty-six. My jaw ached, fangs extending and retracting involuntarily. Every swallow tasted like copper and death.
Then it settled.
At hour forty-eight, I bit my own wrist to test it.
The wound turned black. Veins darkened. Spread.
Then my healing factor kicked in, burning out the venom before it could kill me.
Immune to my own bite. Makes sense.
I needed a test subject.
I found a willing volunteer three hours later—vampire from Marcel's ranks, mid-level, loyal enough to trust me but not important enough that his death would start a war.
"You sure about this?" he asked nervously.
"Positive. It won't kill you—you're not an Original. But I need to confirm the venom only affects them." I met his eyes, compelled just to be sure he'd cooperate. "This is going to hurt. A lot. But you'll heal."
He nodded. Offered his arm.
I bit down.
The venom flooded into his system. He gasped, stumbled, but didn't die. Just experienced intense pain for about thirty seconds before his healing factor cleared it out.
"Holy shit," he breathed. "That was—"
"Lethal. To Originals. Not to you." I released him. "Thank you for the test. You can go."
He left quickly, probably to tell everyone that Roy Stark now possessed Original-killing venom.
Good. Let them know. Let them be cautious.
Let Esther and Mikael hear about it, wherever they were.
Elijah visited that night.
"I heard," he said without preamble. "About the venom transfer."
"And?"
"And you now possess the power to kill me. To kill my family. All of us." He sat on the crate across from me. "That changes things."
"Does it? I could kill you before. Through other means. Compulsion. Blood detonation. Hybrid strength." I met his eyes. "This just adds another option."
"An option that's specifically designed to kill Originals. That's different than theoretical capability."
"Elijah." I leaned forward. "I'm not going to kill you. Or Klaus. Or Rebekah or Kol. You're..." I searched for words. "You're not my enemies. Your parents are."
"And if my parents return? If you have to choose between revenge and friendship?"
"Then I'll cross that bridge when I get there. But right now? You're safe. All of you. As long as you don't betray me."
He studied my face. Looking for lies. Manipulation. Hidden agendas.
He wouldn't find any. Because I meant it. The Mikaelsons had become something I hadn't expected.
Not quite family. Not quite friends. But important.
"Very well," Elijah said finally. "I trust you. Despite the danger. Despite the risk."
"Why?"
"Because you've had dozens of opportunities to kill us and haven't. Because you protect Hope like she's yours. Because you prank Klaus instead of murdering him." He stood. "You're choosing to be better than your worst impulses. That deserves trust."
After he left, I sat in the darkness and thought about the venom burning in my fangs.
The ultimate weapon. The final piece.
Everything I needed to make Esther and Mikael suffer.
And all it cost me was the comfort of knowing my friends would never have to fear my bite.
Worth it, I told myself.
But I wasn't entirely sure I believed it.
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