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Elena had to get a cab to the compound. She didn’t remember the journey, and she only knew she’d paid the driver because she wasn’t chased into the courtyard. She had been in a perpetual state of numb shock for two days, existing somewhat distantly from her own body.
“Elena,” Klaus greeted. She jumped. Really, she should have expected someone to appear out of nowhere.
“Hey,” she rasped. When had she last said anything? Caroline and Bonnie hadn’t been at the dorm when she got back from Mystic Falls – probably Jenna, then. Six hours, give or take.
“Rebekah is not here, I’m afraid,” he said, and she twitched. She’d already forgotten he was there.
“I’m – I’m looking for Lissa, actually.”
His head tilted like he was listening for something.
“I can’t hear her, but last I saw, she was in her library.”
“Thanks.”
Elena headed for Lissa and Elijah’s part of the compound, assuming that’s where Lissa’s library would be. Klaus didn’t stop her – so, either she was on the right track, or he was totally okay letting her wander aimlessly around the house. Probably both.
The library was huge, like everything else in the compound. To the left of the entrance, a large, white marble fireplace was set into a navy wall. Armchairs and a coffee table gathered around it. A few feet away, the stone floor gave way to carpet. Four floor-to-ceiling bookshelves created five rows just begging to be explored.
“Lissa?” she called hesitantly. Then quickly added, “It’s Elena!” because she wore Katherine’s face and had to assume she had her voice too, and Lissa might be freaked out hearing her dead sister’s disembodied voice.
“Hello,” Lissa said warmly. Elena jumped again. Why did they all insist on speeding everywhere? Would it kill them to walk? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine – I’m just – jumpy,” she said jerkily. Lissa frowned at her in concern. “I – uh – could I talk to you about something kinda private?”
“Of course,” Lissa said, still frowning. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thanks.” Elena was guided to one of the armchairs and sighed a little when she sank into the gentle comfort. Lissa sat in another, ankles crossed, somehow looking expectant and patient at the same time. “I’m adopted.”
Lissa pressed her lips together, and not in the way she did when Bex and Klaus bickered. Her jaw was tense.
“I know,” she eventually admitted. Elena blinked. Oh, right, of course. It was why she’d come to see her, wasn’t it?
“My parents were gonna tell me but, well, you know. Jenna didn’t know much, just the first name – Isobel. Bonnie said . . . well, she said you tracked the family line, that you guessed I was the doppelganger when I was born.”
“Yes.” Elena didn’t know which part Lissa was agreeing with. “It took some time. Our father – Katerina and I’s, that is – told us Katerina’s baby died before he could give her away. We later discovered she had survived, tracked her down, and I began following the Petrova line. Over time, the combined efforts of Klaus’s siblings deterred him from wanting hybrids. I continued keeping track regardless.”
“Why?” Elena asked quietly. Lissa smiled sadly.
“No one else would.”
She disappeared for a moment. When she returned, it was with a thick, leather-bound book. Petrova was embossed faintly on the spine. It was in immaculate condition considering the supposed age. Lissa handed it to Elena, who reverently opened it.
“That book says the family line ended with me and my siblings. Milena – our youngest sister – did not have children, nor did I. Katerina’s was born out of wedlock and therefore was illegitimate. As far as any history book is convinced, the Petrova name died with Milena in 1495.”
There were some loose pages in the centre of the book. They were all sketches. The black pencil or charcoal had become grey with age, the paper yellowed, but the depictions were very clear. There were only three people in the top sketch – an older woman with faint laughter lines and an elaborate braid, a gruff looking man was thick hair, and a young girl smiling slightly at something unseen.
“Is this Milena?” Elena asked gently.
“With my parents, yes,” Lissa said, barely louder than a whisper. Elena glanced up but gave her the dignity of pretending not to see her unshed tears. She quickly looked back at the sketches. The next had a more familiar face.
“Wow,” she breathed. Katherine – or Katerina, as she was in the picture – had a brilliant, wide grin that somehow made her black and white eyes glitter. She had thick, wavy hair that was as long as Lissa’s, and a thin chain around her head.
“That was shortly after we arrived in England,” Lissa said. “Katerina was exiled for her so-called shame, and I joined her. Klaus was courting her.”
Elena didn’t have the brain capacity to process that.
“Did you know my birth mom?” she asked, hiding the sketches by closing the book carefully. Despite its condition, she was still convinced she could ruin it by complete accident.
“I knew of her.” Lissa eyed her thoughtfully. “Do you know who your biological father is?”
“Yes.”
“Do you not wish to ask him your questions?”
Lissa didn’t sound judgemental, just curious. Elena snorted, mostly against her will. The thought of asking John even one of her questions made her want to laugh and cry. Maybe one day. Maybe not. Either way, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge him as her father.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. Lissa’s lips twitched but she kept any comments to herself.
“Isobel was sixteen when she had you. She was not in a position to raise you, so Miranda and Grayson adopted you as their own.”
“And after?”
“She was depressed for a long time,” Lissa said sadly. “The post-partum symptoms alone were difficult to cope with and she struggled to regain her footing. Eventually, she went on to study at Duke and met Alaric Saltzman, who she would later marry.”
“Alaric Saltzman!?” Elena squeaked. Lissa nodded, visibly baffled. “He was the history teacher in my last semester of school.”
“A small world,” Lissa said. Elena could almost see the cogs whirring in her brain.
“Isobel?” she prompted.
“Yes. Isobel had known of the supernatural through John. She studied it at Duke. Her obsession with it was so intense that she became a vampire.”
“She’s – is she still alive?”
Lissa’s miserable eyes were enough of an answer, but she elaborated anyway.
“She had an unfortunate run-in with hunters a few years ago.”
“Did she know about me? What I am?”
“Katerina wanted to reach out to her once upon a time, but as far as I know, did not follow through.” Her grimace was uncertain. “Isobel was a talented researcher, and she was putting together her lineage before she died. If she had been given the opportunity to continue, I believe she would have discovered a great many things.”
Elena sat back. Her breath whooshed out as she deflated. She didn’t know what to say. Her brain was too fried to work out how old Isobel would have been when she died, but it was young. Too young. Like her parents. She nearly laughed – borderline hysterical. John Gilbert – her creepy, self-righteous, asshole of an uncle/bio-dad – was her only living claim to a parent.
Actually.
No.
He was barely around. Whenever he was, he seemed to make it his mission to piss off as many people as possible. The last time she’d seen him had been her parents’ funeral. Who had been around every moment they could? Who had stepped into the role of guardian and protecter in the swells of her own grief? Who had stood by Jeremy’s side through the drug problems, helping him in ways no one else could or would?
Jenna. She wasn’t old enough to really be their mom, but boy, she filled the shoes anyway. She had tamed her wild ways and retained her sass without sacrificing their wellbeing. She had done her Masters submerged in not only her loss, but the loss pouring from two teenagers, and risen to the surface victorious. John didn’t get to steal her claim just because he was part of Elena’s biological make-up. He didn’t deserve the chance.
“Did John help Isobel turn?” she asked quietly. Wouldn’t that be wild? The man who hated vampires knowingly going through the steps to turn someone into a vampire.
“No. Isobel cut him out of her life when you were born. He may not even know she is dead,” Lissa said. Elena scoffed. Yeah, that tracked.
“Did you?”
Lissa shook her head.
“I didn’t find out until after the fact.”
“You track the sirelines too, don’t you?” Elena asked hesitantly. Lissa nodded slowly. “You’re not telling me something.”
“I am not sure you want to know.”
“Please. I can take it. Everything you know about her, I want to know. I need to know.”
Lissa’s eyes were slightly wide with reluctance. Elena didn’t believe she could out-wait most people, let alone someone 500 years older than her, but she thankfully didn’t have to find out. Lissa sighed in concession, seemingly accepting her adamance.
“Isobel was turned by Damon.”
Elena forgot how to blink. Her head swam in tandem with her stomach turning viciously, but her breakfast remained inside, thankfully. She laughed miserably.
“Mr Saltzman knew, didn’t he?” she guessed.
“I assume he knew something of Damon’s involvement, yes. I can find out for certain.”
“I – I don’t know if I want to know that much. Yet. Maybe ever.”
Lissa breezed to her feet and came to sit on the coffee table. She reached out a hand and Elena nodded in concession. The warm weight on her own tangled fingers helped steady her pounding thoughts and stuttering heart.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a bus.”
“Understandable. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Can you . . . can you not tell anyone about this?” Elena pleaded. Lissa’s smile was sweet and reassuring.
“I will speak nothing of this until – if ever – you are comfortable.”
Elena squeezed the hand of her great-great-however-many-greats-aunt, grateful for the chance to know someone from her family tree.