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 against 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.”