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The Originals: The Rise

Page 18

by Julie Plec


  Deliberately, she turned her back on the crowd. From where Klaus stood, he could tell that her eyes were so full of tears that she must be barely able to see. Vivianne made for an exit, but Sol came toward her so quickly that Klaus had to throw himself in the big werewolf’s path.

  “She has said all that needs to be said,” he warned Sol, but he heard Vivianne hesitate behind him. He willed her to just go, but she was proud and stubborn. She had been prepared to leave, but she would not flee.

  It was what he loved about her, and it was also what could get them both killed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  IT WAS HAPPENING all over again. A party full of witches and werewolves, a lovely young bride-to-be, and Klaus. Always, always Klaus. Elijah let himself fantasize for a moment that, when the fight inevitably broke out, he would simply kill his brother himself. It would make everything so much easier.

  Rebekah should have been there—this debacle wouldn’t have gotten so far out of hand under her watchful eye. She would have diverted Armand, contained Klaus, and still had time to terrify the three servers who’d snuck out with one of the better bottles of wine.

  But there was no time to think about what might have been. In the blink of an eye, Elijah inserted himself between Solomon and his brother. “Get her out of here,” he ordered Klaus. “Go.”

  He could see that Klaus wanted to argue, but for once in his life he listened. He must really love that poor girl if he was willing to forego a fight to keep her safe. The two of them ran into the narrow corridor, Vivianne’s silver gown gleaming until they were finally out of sight.

  In the hall, the chaos had escalated to pandemonium. Sol’s furious snout was just inches from Elijah’s own, and it took all of Elijah’s self-control not to bury his fist in it. “You tried to kill me once already,” Elijah reminded him, keeping his voice quiet and brutal. “I don’t think it’ll go any better tonight.”

  Sol gritted his teeth, but backed off. “You played us for fools,” Louis Navarro shouted. “You came to us with all those fine words about peace, knowing that your brother destroyed the alliance behind our backs.”

  “No one ever knows what my brother is up to until it’s done,” Elijah said. “I negotiated with you all in good faith, and I’m prepared to keep up my end of the bargain. I want there to be peace.”

  “But now your brother has run off with our prize,” Sol growled. “And I want her to be returned to her rightful place.”

  “Your prize,” Elijah repeated, rolling over a worrying thought. It couldn’t be true, could it?

  Sol took another step back, unsure if he’d said too much. Elijah scanned the crowd to find Sofia Lescheres, wondering if she’d stumbled upon the truth before him. That small white wolf he’d seen...Those damned wolves must have convinced the girl to change. Her mother would never have allowed it if she’d known, but it was too late for that.

  It dawned on him that Klaus must have already known about Vivianne’s change. Naturally, Klaus wouldn’t have bothered to mention something so important, busy as he was sneaking around with the one woman the entire city seemed to have a claim on.

  “And why is Vivianne’s rightful place with you, Sol?” Sofia demanded, stepping closer to Sol. “She has no desire to marry your son, so why do you think she still belongs to you? What did you do to my daughter?” She was watching Sol’s face intently, waiting for him to say what she already knew.

  “She made a pledge,” Sol argued, frustrated that Sofia was backing him into a corner.

  “Obviously the alliance isn’t that important to her,” he went on, “or to any of you. If you don’t intend to follow through with your part of the contract, there is no contract.”

  Louis grinned maliciously, and a crackle of energy rippled through the werewolves around him. Their part in this peace has never been more than halfhearted, Elijah realized—probably why they had been so willing to risk it. A war could break out right now, and they’d welcome it.

  “If the alliance is dead,” Elijah suggested, lifting his voice over the menacing thrum, “then I hope this time the witches will be smart enough to want us on their side.” If he could not have a peaceful city, then at least the vampires could have one of the factions at their backs this time. And if Klaus was set loose to resume his old hunting practices, the fighting would be quick.

  “You?” a white-haired witch demanded shrilly. “What could you possibly have to offer us that would replace the good will of the werewolves?”

  “The werewolves’ allegiance was never yours to begin with,” Elijah told the witches, although he kept a careful eye on the pack as he spoke. “They’ve gone rogue. All that’s left to do is decide whether you want to deal with them alone or with help.”

  “They are only turning against us again because of you!” another witch shouted.

  “Because of your brother,” another said. “If he hadn’t been in Vivianne’s ear, convincing her to break her word, we would still be celebrating tonight.”

  That was probably true, Elijah reflected, but their happiness would have been short-lived. Klaus, as mind-numbingly selfish as he was, might have accidentally done the witches a favor.

  “And yet the werewolves had already violated the terms of the alliance before the wedding could even take place,” Elijah declared, deciding it was time to reveal the truth—his ace card against the werewolves. “At the last full moon, they convinced Vivianne to take a human life, so that she would be more theirs than the witches’. They were not content with a marriage of equals—they wanted to own her.”

  There was a renewed outcry, but this time Elijah let the cacophony build without trying to interrupt. Sofia Lescheres, pale, reached out to clutch at his arm. “So it’s true?” she whispered.

  “I saw her,” he replied softly, and then he raised his voice again. “I saw her after she had changed, and the werewolves tried to silence me.” That was not exactly true, but it was close enough.

  “You attacked me unprovoked!” a petite brunette werewolf cried, straining to be heard over the others. “You struck first.”

  But it didn’t matter. Elijah’s version of events had already caught the imagination of the crowd. “There can be no peace if you made my daughter turn,” Sofia shouted back.

  Elijah pulled Sofia back into the ranks of the witches, who closed around them protectively. Elijah could feel a strange energy in the air, and he saw some of the witches’ mouths moving in a steady, focused pattern. “This is who you thought you could ally with,” he reminded them ruthlessly. “These filthy, faithless creatures broke the contract and turned Vivianne, and wanted her to marry Armand against her will. They want to enslave you, not govern with you. There can be no peace in a city where they are allowed to live.”

  “Enough!” Solomon bellowed, but before he could say more, a wineglass was hurled at his head. His eyes, and dozens of others, blossomed with murderous yellow, and Elijah could hear the deliberate chanting of the witches around him.

  “Let’s go,” Elijah urged Sofia, who stared at him in shock and shook his hand off her arm.

  “I’ll kill them all,” she hissed in a strangled voice, her black eyes wide and round.

  This betrayal must be doubly bitter to her, a woman who had once loved and bore a child to a werewolf, never dreaming that one day his kin would return to claim her. Sofia had every right to her anger, but it would not do anyone any good if she died defending her daughter’s honor.

  “Vivianne needs her mother now,” he said with urgency as snarls and screams began to fill the banquet hall. “Let me get you to safety.”

  Ysabelle appeared on Sofia’s other side and grabbed at her arm, trying to pull her toward one of the exits. Sofia yanked herself free just long enough to cast some spell at a werewolf Elijah hadn’t even seen coming. The werewolf fell to the ground with a high-pitched
whimper, and Elijah dragged both women—one much more willing than the other—to the door.

  It was strangely quiet outside. The sounds from within the hall could almost have been the remains of the party. Witches and werewolves alike fled in twos and threes, but they did not linger or make any sound to draw attention to their exit. They simply lost themselves in the maze of moonlit streets, disappearing down cobblestoned alleys and over the walls of gardens.

  Elijah relaxed his grip on the two witches, and Sofia slumped miserably against her sister. “I knew it was a mistake,” she sobbed. “But she thought she was one of them already. She wanted to trust that they wouldn’t hurt her, and I wanted that to be true.”

  Ysabelle stroked her sister’s black hair and gave Elijah a pointed look. He understood—this was a time for family and he had his own family to attend to. He needed to find Klaus.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  REBEKAH HAD NEVER expected to feel so guilty as the sea spray misted her face and seagulls barked over the harbor. Back when she’d promised to stay beside her brothers forever, she had barely tasted immortality. Who could really expect such a promise to be kept for centuries? But they’d all believed in it, and what made the separation worse was that part of her truly wanted to stay. She had fought for a life of her own, but after all this time she hardly even knew what freedom meant.

  Eric came up next to her at the bow of the ship, and put a protective arm around her shoulders. His warmth was comforting, but he wouldn’t be warm—or mortal—for much longer. With him beside her, she owed it to herself to find out what life was like when you were unshackled from your past. She had to explore this love, this passion. She snuggled closer to his side, enjoying the way her body molded itself to his. She deserved this happiness, even if it came at the expense of an eternal vow.

  As long as she and Eric kept to themselves, they could move through the world undetected—something that had always been impossible with Klaus around. She could be safe and anonymous, while Elijah and Klaus continued their endless work of building, negotiating, fighting, and fleeing. She could not imagine seeking more when she already had Eric.

  She could hear his steady heartbeat, and she ran one hand up along his lean chest. It was strange to see him without his captain’s uniform on, but she found him just as handsome in civilian clothes. The army would miss him, no doubt, but it wouldn’t be the first time that an officer had gone missing in the New World. Men disappeared all the time, in search of gold, women, and land, and Eric’s disappearance would be written off soon enough.

  “The captain says the tide is turning,” he told her gently. “If we wish to leave tonight, there is no more time.”

  In spite of her convictions, Rebekah had found herself hesitating, procrastinating, checking their luggage and the ship’s charts long after it was obvious that everything was in order. They planned to sail to the West Indies and lose themselves among the islands, making good use of both her daylight ring and the one Eric had managed to come across during his studies. She could picture it vividly: endless white beaches, locals full of fruit and fish, and a little hut where they could shelter from the wild, hot thunderstorms.

  But they could not have those things if they did not go. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. Someone to stop them? Of course not, but it felt so strange and unfamiliar to set sail without her brothers...or at least without them chasing after her to bring her back again.

  They had their own lives to attend to now, though, as did she. “Tell him I am ready,” she said softly, kissing Eric lightly on the mouth.

  He smiled, his happiness uncomplicated and pure. After he left to find the ship’s captain, Rebekah moved to the stern of the boat and looked out at New Orleans for what she suspected would be the last time. From that distance she couldn’t pick out the hall where Elijah’s party was surely a raging success, but she chose an especially bright pool of light and decided to believe that was it.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered to her brothers—who had once been her everything—as the lines were cast off and the ship began to move through the dark waves.

  Then Eric returned to her side, a new everything that was worth the loss of the old. The night breeze was light but steady, and the trim ship made good use of it. They were making good time and had left the small harbor for the star-littered expanse of the lake beyond. The tide would give them plenty of time to reach the narrow passage to the next lake, and then out into the open sea.

  She pressed against Eric’s side, and wrapped her fingers through his. “I feel free, Eric—finally, I feel free.”

  He bent his head to press his face against her neck. “We are free,” he agreed. “The city is behind us, and we can do as we please.”

  She hesitated, moving her hands to grip the smooth wood of the ship’s rail. She knew what he meant. Knowing how badly he wanted to be immortal, she appreciated his patience all the more. She longed to begin their new life together as soon as possible, but she could still see the lights of New Orleans, and she had this one last obligation to her brothers.

  “When we are at sea,” she said. “It may seem safe enough here, but we’re not truly away yet. As long as we can see the city, as long as we remain in the waters that border it, the witches will know when a new vampire has been made.”

  “The witches...” Eric mused, and she heard the familiar spark of his relentless curiosity in his voice. “My world has become full of magic thanks to you, Rebekah.” He kissed her lightly along her jaw until he reached her mouth, where his lips lingered. The wind had tugged some locks of her hair loose from their pins, and he tucked one tenderly back behind her ear. “So, let us wait until we are out of range from these witches, so that your brothers don’t come to any harm. I never want you to regret giving me this gift.”

  “I always called it a curse,” she whispered, so softly that he might not have even been able to hear. “Until I met you.”

  The black sky above them was covered in endless layers of stars, and the waxing moon had just begun to rise above the clouds to the east. Rebekah leaned against Eric’s solid body and watched the bayou slide by. The thousands of torches, candelabras, and chandeliers in New Orleans blurred together into one bright, shining island that grew smaller as she watched. Soon it would be out of sight entirely, swallowed up by the shadowy, teeming swamp on either side.

  “We could go and wait below,” he suggested after a short while. When she tore her eyes away from the shoreline to look up at him, his smile was suggestive. “I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time.”

  Of that there was no doubt. She took his hand and led him to their little cabin, her heart pounding as she descended the narrow ladder. For a brief moment she remembered another ship, on her way to yet another new life, with nameless men dying in front of a ladder just like this one. But there would only be one death on this ship tonight, and it would be a beginning rather than an end.

  Although it was true that the sailors would not reach their destination alive. Eric would be ravenous after the change. Compulsion would keep the survivors from noticing their missing comrades, and by the time they sailed into port there would be no one left to notice. She had paid extra for a captain who ran with more than the bare minimum of crewmembers for just that reason.

  In their cabin, Eric reached behind her and took her by the waist, and she forgot one kind of hunger for another. She began to turn around, but he held her where she was, kissing her neck lightly at first so that she shivered. Then his mouth grew more ardent, and he deftly untied the long line of bows that ran down the back of her dress.

  Impatient with even his quick work, she tore the last of them to simply remove the thing, then did the same with his starched white shirt. The rest of their clothes followed onto the floor, and Eric lifted her by the hips and threw her gently onto the bed. The ship rolled a bit as he moved to follow, and she la
ughed as he overbalanced and fell on top of her.

  He smiled, with a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, but he did not laugh. Instead he took full advantage of his position to taste every inch of her skin, drinking her in as if he were already a vampire tasting his first blood. His mouth explored her collarbone, then moved across her breasts and her belly, working lower while she sighed in pleasure. He did not linger long, although she wished he would....He continued to explore along her thighs and even her ankles, appreciating each new landscape of her body in turn.

  Then he rose again, attending to her pleasure in such thorough detail that she thought the sailors on the deck must hear her cries. And when he finally entered her, it was with the desperate need of a man who knew it was the last thing he would do in his life. She welcomed him and moved with him, swaying with the roll of the boat and rising up against it until they were both entirely spent.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  KLAUS WAS GLAD of Elijah’s ridiculous pursuit of safety as he spurred their horse onward. Vivianne clung tightly to his waist, and together they struggled to keep their seat on the agitated animal. Klaus could not hear the sounds of the chase yet, but it was only a matter of time. Not even Elijah’s diplomacy could hold off the wolves for long.

  The house rose up before them, and their skittish horse shied away. Klaus jumped to the ground, pulled Viv down after him, and slapped the beast on its rump. It cantered away gratefully toward the forest, eager to leave its supernatural charges far behind.

  Inside, Vivianne scanned the door to bolt it shut, but Klaus took her arm and led her to a chair. “No one can get in besides the two of us and Elijah,” he reminded her, then added, “and our sister as well, but she is no longer in the city.” He wondered if there was a way to exclude someone from the house after they had once been allowed in. If Rebekah no longer wanted to call this her home, then she should not be able to simply walk in unannounced. Perhaps Vivianne knew some tricks—it was handy having a witch around who actually liked him.

 

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