This time, there was no quelling the reaction. Shouts and accusations echoed off the vaulted ceiling, and Ysabelle Dalliencourt looked so pale that Elijah thought she might be sick. She was certainly regretting her help now, but Elijah wasn’t going to give up over some yelling.

“Who sold you land?” Sol Navarro demanded. Although it was not loud, his voice cut through the general uproar like a knife. His face was so beet-red that its scar stood out. His hands were clenched into meaty fists, and Elijah saw the wisdom of holding these meetings as far from the full moon as possible.

“I inherited it”—Elijah smirked—“from a werewolf.” He held up the deed to Hugo’s house proudly.

Sol’s eyes flashed yellow. “He was no true werewolf,” he muttered, but to Elijah’s surprise—and Ysabelle’s obvious relief—he did not press the matter.

“Just because some outcast left you his land, that doesn’t mean you belong here,” Armand chimed in weakly, but he seemed to run out of things to say beyond that.

Elijah waited, emphasizing the lack of argument with his own silence. When it was painfully clear that Armand would not go on, he shrugged. “We are here nonetheless.” He smiled coldly at the fuming werewolves. “Your entire pack has already taken a good try at killing us, and failed. What is left to do but find a way to coexist?”

“We could try again,” Louis suggested, cracking his knuckles.

Sofia Lescheres laughed, ignoring the dirty looks the Navarros and a number of her fellow witches cast her way. “As I said, wolf, we have other business to attend to tonight. We will never get to it if we are forced to waste time watching this vampire slaughter you and your family. There is no violence at these meetings by design, and so if you want to keep your place here, you will leave off these empty threats and focus on the matter at hand.”

“The matter at hand is preposterous, though,” an elderly witch argued, his palsied hands resting on a heavy, jeweled cane. “We made an arrangement with these creatures nearly a decade ago, and now this one has the audacity to barge in here and tell us it has changed.” He frowned at Elijah. “Your gratitude leaves something to be desired, vampire.”

“I will express my gratitude through strengthening this city, along with the rest of you,” Elijah told him politely. “Working together for peace and prosperity.”

“You know nothing of peace,” Armand hissed, and Elijah decided that he was starting to see why the lanky young werewolf so irritated Klaus. “You still haven’t answered for attacking us under the full moon.”

Sofia Lescheres stared at him intently, and then at his father. “What was your entire pack doing together in the woods that night, Sol?” Her tone was conversational, but her black eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “Just what was it that this vampire stumbled upon?”

It was a fair question, and from the look on the werewolves’ faces, Elijah wondered why he hadn’t thought to ask it himself. The dead man and wooden altar swam in his vision for a moment, along with a small white wolf huddled below it. Who was she that the entire pack had turned out to witness her transition? The answer that came to him was absurd, impossible...but if it was true, then the Navarros would not risk giving him a reason to share what he had seen.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Sol conceded gruffly, not quite meeting Elijah’s eyes. “The sound of the fighting carried, and more wolves arrived. Certainly, the thing got out of hand, but everyone involved has recovered. We should not speak of it again.” He glared pointedly at his two sons. Sofia steepled her fingers together, but did not pursue the question.

“Perhaps,” Ysabelle croaked, then cleared her throat and began again. “Perhaps it would help to avoid future misunderstandings such as that one—whatever it was—if we granted the Mikaelsons’ request.” She looked so nervous that it took him a moment to register that her words were supposed to help him.

Of course, things were already swinging a bit more in his favor, but he appreciated the gesture. It certainly didn’t endear her to the rest of the councilors, who murmured in various degrees of outrage.

“There is some truth to what my sister says,” Sofia mused, ignoring the angry looks that were directed toward her. “If the vampires are willing to respect the peace in this city, perhaps it is time to make them a part of it.”

“We will not only respect it, we will celebrate that peace,” Elijah added quickly, ignoring the scoffing sound that came from Armand’s direction. “We have longed for a home of our own, and an end to the violence can only benefit us. In fact”—he improvised—“we would like to throw a ball to demonstrate our enthusiastic support of the upcoming wedding. Let that be our part in the truce, to show that we will honor it as sincerely as the rest of you.”

Even Sol seemed somewhat mollified by that offer, although Armand continued to look bleak and unconvinced. “A seat among us in exchange for a party?” Louis muttered, and a few heads around the semicircle nodded in agreement.

“In exchange for peace,” Sofia emphasized. “We know now what the Mikaelsons want from us. What we want from them is their promise that there will be no more violence...and no more ‘misunderstandings.’” She raised an eyebrow at Sol, who inclined his head in agreement. “It is easier to place conditions on those who are under your roof than on outsiders. If we want to ask them to join in our treaty, then we must be prepared to invite them inside.”

“Your words are both wise and fair, Madame,” Elijah replied, gliding forward to kiss the hand she offered after a tense heartbeat. “The party is merely a sweetener to a deal that will benefit all of us in the years to come. I can think of no better way for our kinds to begin anew than to come together and celebrate such a happy occasion.”

The council rose as one, and the triumph of his success was almost dizzying. He had done it, and the Originals would never be drifters or outcasts again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SOONER OR LATER, Rebekah knew that she would have to face her brothers. The harmony she had with Eric had stretched on blissfully, but it couldn’t last forever. She was still an Original, with ties and obligations. And he was still a human, with all the dangerous vulnerabilities that entailed. Eric was ready to become a vampire, but she couldn’t change him in New Orleans, and they could not leave until she made things right with her family.

Eric had managed—barely—to contain his frustration, but she could still sense it. He had been forced to accept her judgment, since he couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand the complexities of being an ancient, immortal vampire. But she could see how the rules annoyed him, and how eager he was to leave and be free with her.

But it was time to visit Elijah and Klaus, in order to set her future in motion.

She heard a strange wailing sound as they approached the house, as if an animal were crying out. The protection spell must finally be in place, she realized. Her brothers would be safe behind its barrier....And they would have been warned that a guest was coming: Eric.

Sure enough, as they reached the front porch, the door banged open. “Sister,” Klaus greeted her broadly, extending his arms to indicate the entire quadrangle of land around them. His muscular frame filled the doorway, and his amused smile gave way to a dangerous gleam in his pale eyes. “You have returned to our happy home at last.” Klaus was still mad at her—weeks later—for their encounter in his hotel room, and now she had walked Eric straight into the lion’s jaws.

“Not now,” Rebekah hissed, pushing him aside and dragging Eric through the door, and Klaus followed gamely. With Klaus in this kind of mood, she’d need a cooler head to mediate.