by Julie Plec
Rebekah could have come along, if only to show Klaus where the witches’ concealment spell began, but she had made a great, melodramatic show of refusing to leave Elijah’s bedside. It was as if she cared more about making her point than about Elijah’s actual well-being, a revelation that Klaus hoped would not be lost on their brother. Klaus might have made some mistakes, but at least now he was acting to correct them, rather than lazing about in the mansion, trying to teach some kind of abstract lesson.
Klaus’s hand struck something solid, although all he could see was open air. The bayou appeared totally undisturbed, full of buzzing insects, waving grasses, and squelching black mud. But there was something else there, right in front of them, and Klaus slid his hand sideways along the invisible wall until he found an opening. “Here,” he announced, and without another glance at Sampson, he stepped through into the witches’ compound.
He blinked at the sight of the town that appeared, and couldn’t resist checking over his shoulder to make sure that the clearing in the bayou was still out there, just as it had been a moment before. Sampson came through the gateway beside him, looking a bit sullen at not having found the way himself, and the two of them made their way to the center of the compound in a silence that was not especially companionable.
They had made no secret of their arrival, and the witches were waiting for them when they reached the long, low meetinghouse that stood at the center of the village. Lily Leroux’s power play had done nothing to improve the living conditions of her people, which Klaus found gratifying in a way. He still would have preferred to see them entirely wiped off the map, never to plague him again.
Lily’s former chair was occupied by a new witch, who Klaus hoped was more rational than her predecessor. Her raven hair was shot through with silver, and Klaus could see the remnants of what must have been great beauty in the elegant lines of her face. “Greetings,” she said, with no trace of warmth or encouragement. “My name is Amalia Giroux, and of course we all recognize your face here, vampire.”
She turned pointedly to Sampson, who cleared his throat uncomfortably under the witch’s stern gaze. “My name is Sampson Collado, and I represent the werewolves of New Orleans,” he said.
Klaus shifted, preparing to speak, but Sampson couldn’t seem to stop talking. “We have come to you—together—because of a threat that affects all of us,” the young werewolf went on, and Klaus clenched his teeth together.
Grandstanding aside, the matter was simple. Witches—if not the same ones assembled here, then their brothers and sisters elsewhere—had sold supernatural weapons to a malicious bunch of humans. The problem properly belonged to Amalia, and Klaus had come to lay it at her feet. But there was no denying that Sampson’s phrasing was more diplomatic, and with Elijah’s health on the line, Klaus knew this wasn’t the moment to settle old scores.
“We have heard this sort of claim before,” Amalia countered, feigning disinterest in Sampson’s words. “No good has ever come to our clan from trusting either of your kinds. We once stood on equal footing with the Navarro werewolves, ruling New Orleans together, and you can see what has become of us since then.”
“The Navarros are long dead,” Klaus reminded her. The witches had raised a deadly hurricane to cleanse the city of their enemies, although in the end it had been Klaus who had destroyed the werewolves when they laid siege to his house. “But it is the humans of this city who strive to replace them now, and they have amassed powerful weapons against all of us. Right now my brother suffers under the influence of something called vinaya powder, and that is only one of the many tools these rebels possess. They intend to drive everything supernatural out of New Orleans and reclaim it for themselves. They won’t stop with the vampires and werewolves—you’ll be next.”
“There’s no love lost between us,” Sampson pointed out. “Any of us,” he emphasized, with a sideways nod toward Klaus. “But we have shared this city for generations, and however we might fight among ourselves, I think we can all agree that none of us want the humans to take it from us.”
Klaus had to admit that his own arguments sounded that much more convincing when they came from his enemy’s mouth. Even Amalia seemed like she could be persuaded, but he knew her price would be high.
“Vinaya powder,” Amalia repeated, brushing aside Sampson’s speech as if it were irrelevant. Her cool facade slipped enough to show Klaus her surprise at his allegation. “That’s a myth, at least as far as those of us here know. These humans of yours must be well connected to have found such a thing.”
“That makes them dangerous to all of us,” Klaus pointed out. “My brother Elijah needs your help to figure out a cure. Healing him would be a gesture of goodwill that could allow us to unite and to put an end to this threat.”
Amalia laughed, a sound that rippled like molten silver. “I know of a way to free a vampire from the powder you speak of,” she admitted, “but I will need a bit more than an alliance with you in exchange.”
Klaus had expected as much, but showed his displeasure with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. “What sort of extortion did you have in mind, then?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild. “What is more important to you than the goodwill of my family, after all that your kind has done to mine?”
“You and I have no personal history,” Amalia reminded him, her spine straight. “Every witch who ever dealt with you here is dead now, and all their kin with them. If you wish to bargain with me, Klaus Mikaelson, then you need to bring something more than hurt feelings to the table. I suggest a place in our ancestral city, equal to yours and the werewolves’.”
“That’s not his to offer,” Sampson argued hotly, stepping forward. “New Orleans doesn’t belong to the vampires, and it isn’t his to give away. If you want a place there, witch, then act on its behalf, the way any deserving leader would.”
Amalia didn’t even look at the pup. Instead her gaze remained, steady and unblinking, on Klaus. She knew perfectly well that he had the power to deliver what she asked for, and that it was a fair price in exchange for the life of his brother.
“Consider it done,” he said, ignoring the seething glare Sampson shot his way. Building a lasting peace wasn’t Klaus’s job, and it wasn’t his concern. He simply had to get through one crisis at a time. When Elijah was better, they could face the next challenge together, as family. “Cure Elijah, and you can return to New Orleans.”
“As equals,” Amalia prompted. “No good has ever come from one of our kinds growing too powerful. I truly am not seeking to take advantage of your misfortune, vampire, or else I would ask for more. But neither will I accept less than what you already have, nor less than what your brother offered the werewolves decades ago.”
“Equals it is,” Klaus repeated, feeling his jaw clench around the words. “Just tell me how to free my brother from the control of that cursed powder.”
Amalia gestured to one of the witches who stood at the edge of the meeting hall. She ducked out through the low wooden doorframe and hurried away along the gravel path. “Ruth will bring you everything we have written on the subject of vinaya,” Amalia explained, “so that you can understand what I am about to tell you. Because as little as you liked my terms, Klaus, I think you’ll like what I know about vinaya powder even less.”
“Don’t tell me the effects can’t be reversed,” Klaus warned, taking an instinctive inventory of the room in case this parlay came to violence after all. “I beheaded the last woman who told me that.”
“I assume that was the woman who was using the vinaya magic to possess your brother,” Amalia pointed out, raising one black eyebrow sardonically. “That was ill done, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now. It’s left your brother in agonizing pain, and if he were anything less than an Original, that pain would have killed him by now. It would have killed a hundred lesser vampires, and yet yo
ur brother endures his suffering.”
“Not for long,” Klaus reminded her. “You’re going to tell me how to cure him.”
“Yes,” Amalia agreed, pressing the tips of her long fingers together. “That I will.” She gestured to the doorway, where Ruth had reappeared with a small stack of dense-looking books. They were exactly the sort of thing Elijah might have pored over to find some convoluted solution. But Klaus’s tastes ran more toward immediate action, and as Ruth approached he eyed the books with distaste.
“If you know how it’s done, then simply do it,” he suggested, increasingly wary of Amalia’s caginess. She was supposed to be giving him good news, and yet she didn’t act that way at all. “You say you want a seat at the table, and yet when I ask for a spell, you hide behind riddles and books?”
“I want to make sure you understand the sacrifice that Elijah’s cure will require,” Amalia replied. She took the stack of books from Ruth and pulled a thin, silvery candle from the folds of her cloak. Her face was so grave that Klaus nearly burst out laughing. It was ridiculous to think that he would care about some sacrifice now, after everything that had already been taken from him over the last thousand years. It didn’t matter what dire warnings Amalia had to give him along with Elijah’s cure; all Klaus cared about was that there was a cure. “Listen closely, Niklaus,” Amalia went on, still refusing to so much as smile, “and I will explain what that human woman’s death is going to cost you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
REBEKAH WAS IN Mystic Falls again. She ran alongside a herd of deer, straining to make her own feet fly as fast as their pounding hooves. At any moment she would rise free of the earth itself, and join the hawks that circled the soft white clouds. Her family watched her from the cabin, Esther smiling in the sunlight.
She had everything she could possibly need, except her heart knew that none of it was real. Luc was somewhere ahead of her, calling to her, waiting to intercept her and drag her back into what had become of her life. He waved his arms, warning her to slow down, but Rebekah believed that if she kept running, she might still take flight and escape him.
“Rebekah,” he repeated, and she realized he was beside her, holding her arm, pinning her like a butterfly under glass.
“I’m here,” she answered, startling awake. Luc stood over her, his hand resting on her shoulder and his blue eyes concerned. Rebekah blinked at the sight of Elijah’s bedroom, all gray and gold, with the French doors opened onto the balcony to let in the cool night air.
Elijah lay on his bed, his eyes closed against whatever terrible pain caused him to twitch and thrash. Rebekah regretted dozing off, but she could tell at a glance that little had changed for him.
“How long have you been by his side?” Luc asked, frowning with concern. “When was the last time you ate? You’re never so slow to wake. I worry that you aren’t caring for yourself as you should.”
“I can’t leave. I promised Klaus that I would stay with Elijah,” Rebekah said, taking in Luc’s muddy clothes and tousled hair. “Where have you been all this time?” she asked.
It had been days since she had last seen him, she realized. She wasn’t even sure where he had been during their search for Elijah, and the handsome pirate had been conspicuously absent from her side ever since. Rebekah had been too focused on Elijah to notice much or care, but it was poor form nonetheless.
Luc stared at her in surprise, then glanced at Elijah’s unconscious form. “I was pursuing Tomás, of course,” he said.
It actually did look as though he had been tracking some renegade human through the bayou for days. Rebekah was grateful for his help, but part of her wished he had been here, keeping watch with her. His fingers still lingered on her arm, and she wanted to ease into his touch.
“No one asked you to do that,” she said. “How did you even know Tomás was in New Orleans? The last you saw of him was in Virginia, days away from here.”
“He said he would destroy everything that you loved until he was ready to kill you,” Luc said, the threat making even his warm, joyful voice sound ominous. “I never thought he intended to do those things from a distance...did you?”
“Of course not,” Rebekah admitted, although something still nagged at her. With all of the plots and schemes that had ensnared her family recently, it was growing difficult to trust anyone. Even the most open, uncomplicated vampire she had ever met suddenly looked sinister, looming over her and Elijah. “Why didn’t you tell me, though? A lot has happened here, and I would have liked you with me.”
“I see that,” Luc agreed, running his fingers along her arm and up to her shoulder. “I didn’t mean for my absence to hurt you, Rebekah. I promise you I would rather have spent every moment with you. But two nights ago, I met a group of werewolves in a tavern. They told me all about the search for Elijah, and that you and your brother were tracking a lead into the bayou. I had a feeling that Tomás might be involved with Elijah’s disappearance, and if I was right, I wanted to see where he would run next.”
“That was an ambitious play,” Rebekah observed, surprised. Luc had always seemed like a man who preferred to swim along with the current, rather than someone who laid his own plans. She wondered if she had misjudged him, or whether his encounter with Tomás had changed him. “Did you meet with any success?”
“Only some hints and rumors,” Luc answered, his eyes flicking to Elijah and then the open French doors before returning to Rebekah’s own. “I wish I had better news. But I’d rather return to you with nothing than keep chasing shadows through the city for another night. I’ve missed you, my Rebekah.” His fingers drew circles along her back, his touch electric through the fabric of her silk gown.
“I’m glad you came back.” Rebekah smiled, feeling the weariness of watching over Elijah begin to fall away. The world became an entirely different place when there was someone in it just for her, to support her as she had so often supported her brothers. This was what it might feel like to have a family of her own someday, to be surrounded by people who were attuned to her needs rather than warring brothers who constantly created new problems out of thin air.
Luc stroked a loose lock of her hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. For a moment she remembered the feel of Tomás’s mouth against her own, so vividly that he might have been standing before her again. She shivered a little, and reached up to hold Luc’s hand against her cheek. “How could I have stayed away?” he asked, more softly, his eyes locked on hers.
Rebekah let him draw her to her feet, and she made her way into the hallway almost by feel—she was too wrapped up in kissing Luc to properly look where she was going. “Go fetch Lisette,” she called to a human butler who waited silently at the top of the spiral staircase. “Tell her that it’s her turn to sit with Elijah.” The man sprang into action, spurred on by the power of Rebekah’s compulsion.
Luc swept her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to her room, so that all she had to think about was the sweet, salty taste of his lips.
The door of Rebekah’s room burst inward under the weight of Luc’s shoulder, and when they were through, Rebekah’s foot shot out to kick it shut. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, and her bed had never looked so inviting. Luc swung her onto the soft silk sheets, and then he kissed her more deeply than before—as if even the brief second when their mouths were apart had been too much for him to bear.
“Undress me,” she whispered, pulling him onto her as she lay back on the pillows.
Luc obliged, forgoing the dozens of buttons that ran down the seams of her bodice in favor of simply tearing it open. She heard the boning on her corset snap under the insistent pressure of his hands, and then her skin was bare to the cool air.
Luc’s hot mouth chased the chill away, as with his hands he pulled Rebekah free of the last shreds of her gown and underthings. She tore at h
is clothes as well, pinned by the weight of his body pressing down on her, but desperate to feel the heat of his tan skin against hers.
Luc kissed her so passionately that Rebekah thought she might drown in him. She couldn’t see, hear, or breathe anything except for him. For the briefest of moments she realized that she had very nearly died almost exactly this way, that Luc had filled every inch of her vision just before he had driven the White Oak stake into her heart.
In the instant when he entered her, she felt the same shock as she had in that moment; trapped between Luc’s brawny form and the White Oak tree. Rebekah saw stars wheeling overhead through the ceiling of her room, and the steady motion of Luc’s hips made it seem as though her bed were adrift on the ocean.
She pulled him closer, tasting salt on his skin and wrapping her legs around his trim waist, trying to hold on to him through the visions that played in her head. This was why she had wanted to live. This feeling, this connection, this moment were what had made her life too good to give up.
She had remained alive in order to love, and every inch of her body loved Luc’s. His breath came fast and ragged, and she could feel her own heartbeat speeding up to match his, binding them together even more closely.
But Rebekah still couldn’t quite shut out the feeling of being somewhere else. Her pleasure was just too much to be contained by any four walls, and when she climaxed she could feel the entire world pulse and hum along with her body.
Luc finished just a moment after she did, and he collapsed beside her on the bed. “I should never have left your side,” he said, reaching across to caress the delicate skin of her stomach.
Rebekah smiled up at the ceiling, confident that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AT THE SOUND of the door slamming shut, Elijah’s eyes flew open. He had very little strength left, but he had been hoarding it, conserving what he had for the moment when he was finally alone. Rebekah had been hopelessly attentive, staying at his bedside as if she were some strange plant that had grown there, but as soon as he heard her new plaything enter the room, Elijah had steadied himself for the task ahead.