Первородные: Восхождение

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE COUNCIL MET every month on the night of the new moon. Klaus had discovered the location of the meeting somehow, and Elijah was pleasantly surprised to see his brother’s renewed dedication to their family’s cause. Working with Klaus was infinitely easier than working against him. Whatever had convinced him to tread more carefully, Elijah approved.

The handful of witches and werewolves in the room—the most senior, the most respected—did not look pleased to see him. They sat in a wide semicircle in the nave of a church on the eastern outskirts of the city, which had been abandoned when the congregation had grown to need a larger space. Every candle holder in the room had been put to use, and Elijah could detect the lingering smell of incense.

At a glance, he could tell that none of the councilors had expected to see him there, and Solomon Navarro and his two sons looked like they were seriously considering trying to throw him out.

“You should have died,” the broad-shouldered younger one snarled. Elijah remembered him pushing other werewolves aside to join the little skirmish that had broken out during the engagement party.

“I would have, I’m sure,” Elijah replied coldly, “if any of you were strong enough to kill me.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Ysabelle demanded, rising to her feet. Her auburn hair shone red in the candlelight, and her face was tense and afraid. Elijah suspected that her conflicting loyalties must not seem like the wisest idea now that she found herself in a room with the vampire she had helped, the werewolves who wanted him dead, and the witches who would require an explanation for all of it.

A black-haired woman, as tall as Ysabelle and similarly featured, laid a restraining hand on Ysabelle’s wrist. “It is not the first time that this vampire has come before us,” she reminded the assembly in a carrying voice. She didn’t stand, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious from the stillness that came over the room that she had a great deal of authority. “It is possible that he may have further business here.”

“What I would like,” Elijah told her, ignoring the glares from other parts of the semicircle, “is a seat at this council. I believe that it’s time my siblings and I had a voice in this city’s affairs.”

The reaction from the werewolves was so violent that for a moment Elijah thought that they had somehow changed. “He attacked us!” Armand’s reedy voice shouted above the crowd, and Elijah saw some faint cuts and bruises still healing on the young werewolf’s face.

Klaus must have beaten him quite thoroughly, Elijah decided with a satisfied smirk. He would have to make sure to tell him; it might be a small consolation to his brother. Elijah had been delighted when Klaus had told him he was giving up his pursuit of Vivianne, but he also respected how painful that decision was to make.

“A simple misunderstanding,” Elijah lied. “I find it difficult to communicate nuance to werewolves under the influence of a full moon.” He glanced at the witches, and risked a sly wink at the dark-haired one. He thought he saw her lips twitch in response. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“That misunderstanding should have cost you your life,” Louis Navarro growled. “I’m sure we could arrange to correct that oversight right now, if you would like.”

“Sit down,” the witch told him sharply, without even bothering to look his way. To Elijah’s surprise, the Navarros sat. “State your case,” she ordered, “but do it quickly. We have other matters to attend to tonight.”

Finally, he could place the powerful witch: She was Sofia Lescheres, née Dalliencourt. Her husband had been Quentin Lescheres, a werewolf who had been too far on the periphery of the Navarros’ clan to build peace on the strength of his marriage. He had died young in any case, killed in a hunting accident before Vivianne had reached a year old.

His widow was one of the main architects of the alliance with the werewolves, of course, since it involved her own daughter. But Sofia did not seem overly fond of them, and Elijah made a mental note to shake Klaus until any scraps of information about Vivianne fell out. Their own doomed romance was over, but if the girl’s mother was a key player, then Klaus might know something useful without even realizing it.

“Madame Lescheres,” he acknowledged politely, and then nodded in turn to the rest of the assembly. “It is a simple enough matter. I represent a faction of supernatural beings who reside in this city. We have been here nine years, and now we are landowners. We intend to stay, and we deserve a place among you.”

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.