by Julie Plec
CHAPTER TWO
THE BALLROOM AROUND Elijah hummed and spun with happy chatter and lively dancing, but underneath it all he couldn’t stop looking for trouble. What would be the first sign that would allow him to be faster, smarter, and more prepared than everyone else? From the relative peace of the darkened corner, he watched the wallflowers, the whisperers, the outsiders. But of course, as he turned his gaze to the dance floor, he realized he was looking in the wrong place. The trouble was right in the thick of the party, dancing with the bride-to-be. His fair head bent close to her dark one, listening, his expressive mouth smiling and murmuring in a way that conveyed instant intimacy. Why did Elijah ever bother looking anywhere but at Klaus?
Had it been a mistake to keep his impetuous younger brother in the dark about the werewolves’ terms for peace with the witches? Like all worthy feuds, this one was ending with a wedding between the two families, and Elijah had promised that the vampires wouldn’t disrupt their arrangement. He’d thought the key to keeping Klaus in line would be to divert his attention away from Vivianne and her betrothal, as his brother seemed to have an unnatural penchant for wanting what wasn’t his. But that plan had failed miserably.
Vivianne Lescheres, the rare child of both a witch and a werewolf, was a woman with a destiny. The fragile new peace of the city’s supernatural denizens depended entirely on her impending marriage, and the Mikaelson siblings depended on that peace. Rebekah had argued passionately and convincingly that telling Klaus a beautiful young woman was off-limits to him would only guarantee that he would seduce her, but apparently not telling him hadn’t helped a bit.
“Do you see that?” Rebekah sighed, rounding a column to join her brother in the dark. “Trust him to find a way to get in the middle of everything, without even knowing what it is.”
“We have to tell him now,” Elijah growled, sure of their mistake. “He’ll be even worse if he finds out on his own.”
“Has he ever been better, in order to become worse?” Apparently content with that parting shot, Rebekah returned to the dance floor, her gown sweeping across the polished floor. She frequently made it clear that she believed there wasn’t a way to handle Klaus, but Elijah refused to stop trying. The three of them had managed to stay together and survive this long—for almost a thousand years. There was no future for them without one another.
He tried to signal to Klaus, but only managed to catch his attention for a short second before Klaus returned his eyes to the half witch. Elijah wondered what the girl was saying to him; somehow he doubted that they were discussing her fiancé.
It would be too insolent to interrupt now. He could only watch as the trumpets sang and Vivianne left his brother’s side to join her future husband’s. From the reckless flush on her cheeks, Elijah felt sure that she had been toying with Klaus. Considering that Klaus had probably intended to eat her, it was hard for Elijah to hold a grudge, but it looked like Klaus wasn’t the only one who would require some careful watching.
“I understand the witches struck a deal to let you stay in New Orleans,” a voice rumbled in his ear. “If it had been up to me, I would have thrown you right back into the Saint Louis.” Solomon Navarro was the sort of man who wore his true nature on his sleeve. Huge, burly, and sporting a wicked scar down the right side of his face, he looked more like a wolf masquerading as a human than the other way around. Not even his impeccable coat could give the illusion of civilization winning out over savagery.
“Congratulations on your son’s engagement,” Elijah replied politely, struggling with all of his will not to show his fangs to the massive, glowering man. “You must be very proud.”
Elijah had felt that it was more important to be seen there, paying their respects to the powerful local clans, than to get hung up on the fact that they’d snuck in. Perhaps he had underestimated the tension of such a happy occasion.
“She thinks and acts like a witch,” Sol growled, nodding contemptuously at Vivianne. “Her father died too early to have any hand in raising her, which was an opportunity lost. But as a symbol, her parentage will be useful. Unless that thing you brought in with you gets his teeth in her, obviously. Have you ever considered curing your brother of his wretched immortality?”
“Niklaus will not be a problem,” Elijah assured the giant man, with a quick glance at his brother. Klaus was well out of earshot, but he still always seemed to know when his siblings weren’t entirely on his side. Klaus’s belief that he didn’t belong in their family—being only a half brother—was the poison that divided and endangered the Originals. Yet, despite his best intentions, Elijah could never quite convince his brother otherwise.
Still, Sol’s anger was somewhat justified, and not just because of the ill-advised dance in progress. Klaus had begun his time in New Orleans hunting werewolves. The witches had turned a blind eye, requiring only that the Mikaelsons make no new vampires. But with the wedding, the balance of the supernatural landscape had shifted. A massacre—even a small one, even one that had been over for years—could be held against them now by the witches and the werewolves both. In retrospect, the Mikaelsons really should have skipped the party after all.
“He’s been a problem since the three of you washed up on shore,” Sol spat, and Elijah could hear that he was still nursing his grudge. “I’ve been informed that there’s a dead body in the east garden. One of the humans.”
Klaus.
“I don’t know what you’re angry about, then,” Elijah replied with a tight shrug. He found his own patience for diplomacy wearing dangerously thin. “If he’s busy with humans, he’s not threatening your kind. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to remind your pack to stay inside after dark. It’s just common sense for anyone who can’t take on a single vampire alone.”
The blow caught Elijah entirely off guard, crunching into his jawbone and spinning him all the way around before he could even react. He heard a snarl, and a pair of wild eyes glowed yellow somewhere in the shadows. Elijah felt his teeth grow sharp and deadly, but then the growls multiplied, and he froze.
“That’s the thing about being a pack,” Sol said jovially, his broad face creasing into a vicious smile. “We’re never really alone.”
Elijah guessed there were at least five werewolves that had joined them.
“Your brother hasn’t paid for any of the blood he’s spilled,” a voice beside him sneered. It sounded familiar—Sol’s younger son perhaps. “And yet you just walk in here thinking all will be forgiven?” The group echoed him with dark murmurs of agreement.
Elijah bared his fangs, and smirked as the werewolf took an uncertain step back. His name was Louis, Elijah remembered, and unlike his slim brother, he had inherited both their father’s height and his heavy frame.
This is why the Mikaelsons need to stay together, Elijah thought angrily. For his “pack,” six werewolves would be nothing. Caught on his own, he would have to improvise. “Sol,” he began, as strong hands grabbed the collar of his white shirt.
“Take him outside,” Sol ordered quietly, and Elijah was pulled nearly off his feet.
He had just enough balance to push off the floor and flip behind the circle of werewolves. He lashed out with his fists, not caring who he hit as long as he made contact. A swarthy werewolf with startling green eyes got close enough to jab Elijah in the ribs, and Elijah repaid him by breaking his arm. It cracked with a sickening splintering sound. Louis pushed his injured packmate out of his way in a bid to reach Elijah, and Elijah kept one wary eye on his progress. Louis was substantially bigger than the rest of the werewolves, and only one of Sol’s lackeys was effectively out of the fight.
Another blow caught Elijah in the kidney: He was surrounded again. He turned faster than a human eye could see to meet the new attacker, realizing too late that he had turned his back on the most formidable of his enemies. Before Elijah could think of a way to defend himself a
gainst Louis, he heard the big werewolf yelp in pain and fall to the floor.
Klaus stood behind him, his eyes and mouth standing out vividly against the pale fury of his face. Elijah waited for the next attack, but by then Rebekah had arrived as well. Her slim white hand rested on Sol’s sleeve, her grip deadly. Although his broad face was still hot with anger, Elijah knew Solomon was smart enough to recalculate the odds. Together, the three Original vampires were no one’s idea of easy prey.
“That’s enough now,” Rebekah warned, her voice low with her implied threat.
Louis struggled to his feet, brushing off his wrinkled coat and looking absolutely murderous. But obedience won over fury and he looked to his father for his cue.
“We’re here to celebrate Armand and his fiancée,” Sol agreed after a long moment. “This is not the night to address the city’s vermin problem.” The werewolves around them began to slink back into the crowd, Louis leaving last of all. When only the three vampires remained, Sol straightened his cravat. “Think hard about how you three fit in here,” he advised coldly. “Thanks to this alliance, both we and the witches can now devote more attention to cleaning up this city. You might find that you’re more comfortable elsewhere.” Solomon turned on his heel, and was gone.
Elijah drew closer to his siblings. Rebekah still glanced warily around the room, but Klaus only had eyes for Sol’s back. “So,” Klaus began lightly, “I think I heard something about an ‘alliance’?”
“Don’t start,” Rebekah snapped. Even as she spoke to Klaus, her blue eyes scanned Elijah up and down, probing for any sign of serious injury. “You understand perfectly well why we didn’t tell you about the marriage pact.” Elijah knew that Klaus understood, but that was the problem. “And you,” she raged, pushing Elijah hard in the chest. “What were you thinking, starting a fight tonight, of all nights? Isn’t one Niklaus enough?”
“We might have been better off staying home,” Elijah admitted, rubbing at his chest ruefully, “but I could have used a few more Niklauses once they started in on me.” He turned to smile appreciatively at his brother, but to his alarm he realized that Klaus was now covertly watching Vivianne.
Rebekah must have seen it, too, because she moved between them, cutting off their brother’s line of sight to the half witch. “This is serious,” she argued urgently. “Our place here was precarious already, but the werewolves will have more influence now. With Sol in their ears, the witches might decide to stop ignoring us.”
“You know what I’ll suggest.” Klaus leaned back a little, trying to catch another glimpse of the bride-to-be. “Army, slaughter, safety.”
“No army,” Elijah disagreed vehemently. “We can’t break the deal first. Just one new vampire will be all the excuse they need. They won’t just drive us out; they’ll band together to destroy us.”
Rebekah looked from Klaus to Vivianne and back again, her expression thoughtful. “But there’s already an army here,” she mused. “The French have a permanent camp just a few miles away. They’re human, obviously, but turning them can’t be the only way to get them on our side. We have other methods of persuasion. Isn’t that right, Niklaus?”
Klaus frowned in surprise, but Elijah realized what Rebekah was getting at. “People will do foolish things for love,” Elijah agreed thoughtfully, “and a little compulsion wouldn’t hurt our cause, either.”
Elijah could tell that, at least for the moment, Klaus was back in the fold. “My sister the general,” Klaus teased, almost warmly. “Seducing the entire French army should be an interesting new challenge for you.”
Rebekah laughed, and for a moment Elijah remembered them all as children—as humans—again. “I think seducing just the captain will suffice,” she said primly. “Soldiers obey orders.”
“How dull,” Klaus responded with an exaggerated smile, hooking Rebekah’s arm in his. “Speaking of which, this party has gone terribly stale. Let’s go find something to eat.”
“Leave it breathing,” Elijah warned under his breath, but he couldn’t keep a grin entirely off his lips.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY NEVER SAW HER COMING.
The cart horse shrieked as Rebekah launched herself at the humans, who had mistakenly believed the twilit forest north of the city a perfectly safe place to be. But the warning came too late for the couple, who didn’t even manage to look up before Rebekah was upon them. Climbing up onto the wagon, she snapped the woman’s neck with her left hand, and with her right she pulled the man’s head back to expose his weathered throat. His life ended in a burst of thick, hot blood before he could even wonder why.
Rebekah normally would have preferred to take a little more time with her meals, but she had too much to do. The army patrol passed by these woods every hour, and she had no intention of greeting them as a murderess.
She ripped apart the straps of the harness that yoked the horse to the wagon. She raised a hand to shoo it away, and the beast bolted as soon as it was free. The broken harness dangled uselessly in the dirt, and Rebekah kicked in one of the wheels for added effect. Spokes shattered and the hoop cracked, emphasizing how helpless and stranded she was supposed to be.
The woman, of course, must not be found. Rebekah dragged her from her seat, carrying her into the trees until the broken wagon was no longer in sight. Roots and thick undergrowth made digging even a shallow grave a risky waste of time, so she shoved the body under the densest bush she could see, and then examined her work. It had been wise not to drain the woman, even though she wouldn’t have minded a second course to her meal. The ground was barely disturbed, and this way there would be no telltale trail of blood to lead anyone to the corpse.
Rebekah ran back to the clearing, turning her full attention to the dead man. The bite marks were small, but a more obvious cause of death would be an improvement. Eyeing his neck critically, she found a knife in the cart and slashed it across his throat, severing an artery and hiding the marks from her teeth. It wasn’t perfect—and he didn’t have nearly enough blood left to make it as dramatic as she would have liked—so she added a few extra cuts to his hands and arms to tell a more detailed story.
Finally, she lifted him from the cart and propped him against an oak tree in what she cheerfully imagined looked like a valiant—if hopeless—last stand. Her rescuers might notice how quickly she healed if she injured herself, but she carefully ripped at her own clothing, creating a few artistic tears in the powder-blue fabric. She rubbed her hands in the dirt. Wrinkling her nose a little, she smeared some on the apples of her cheeks, then streaked her delicate collarbone and the skin where her torn dress revealed a creamy slice of abdomen. She could hear hoofbeats now, so she tousled her hair roughly while glancing around one final time at the scene she had set. Then she collapsed against the oak tree next to the dead body.
From the sound of the horses, she guessed there were six men. They stopped, and she heard startled murmuring. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed and her body still while they took in the disaster in the clearing. They approached carefully, and she could picture them examining each of her clues. Even though the sun had already slid below the tops of the trees and the light was poor, she was glad she had been so thorough.
“She breathes,” one of the soldiers announced suddenly, and Rebekah let her long eyelashes flutter open. She stared around in apparent confusion, pressing one hand to her head as if it ached. Six soldiers stood in long blue coats that cut away to show flashes of red. The French army had arrived to save the day.
Rebekah’s head rolled to the side so that she could see the dead man propped against the tree trunk. “My husband!” she shrieked, clutching her hands to her chest. One of the rips in her dress gaped strategically, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed several of the men watching it keenly. “Those horrible men killed my husband.” She threw herself melodramatically across the wagone
r’s lifeless chest, hiding her smirk against his shirt.
“There have been reports of bandits on this road, but nothing like this,” one of the soldiers told the others quietly. “Do you think it’s the villains that the captain has mentioned?”
“It may be.” She heard some of them shift uncomfortably, and wished she could stop playing her role long enough to look up and read their expressions. The soldier’s voice dropped so low that a human wouldn’t have been able to hear it, although of course a vampire could. “She called them men, but we can’t be sure that it’s not one of those other crimes.” His volume returned to normal. “The bandits must be getting bolder. The new captain will surely want to increase patrols.”
“You won’t be able to spend so much time in the city brothels anymore,” another one chuckled, and Rebekah heard sounds of scuffling.
Really? A murdered man and a damsel in obvious distress, and they still acted like children? Humans could be so predictable, so undisciplined. She could barely remember how it felt to be their kind of alive—the kind that was temporary. She cleared her throat a little and straightened up again, tossing her loose blonde hair as if it were the accidental result of her movement. Once again, she had the patrol’s undivided attention.
“Madame,” the nearest soldier began, diplomatically placing a hand on her shoulder, “I am a lieutenant in the garrison here, but please just address me as Felix. I am terribly sorry this has happened. We will escort you back to the city.” He was reasonably attractive, Rebekah decided, with thick black stubble and a hooked Gallic nose. She still intended to aim for the captain, but a lieutenant could be useful as well. More important, this Felix could be enjoyable enough company while he escorted her to her real target.
“I can’t go back,” she disagreed, taking hold of the wide cuff of Felix’s sleeve. “My husband had debts; the Navarros were looking for us. My husband hoped to join his cousin in Shreveport, but he hadn’t answered our letters yet when we were forced to leave. I don’t even know if the cousin is still there.” She softened her grip on the lieutenant’s arm and made her eyes wide blue pools of shock and sorrow. “I warned him his gambling would ruin us.”