It wasn't a Mikaelson party without a balloon drop.
In a mere ten minutes time it would be midnight, gallons of silver and blue balloons would descend from the ceiling and Hope Mikaelson would officially be twenty-seven years old.
The theme was Shakespearean with the air of a Midsummer's Night. The caterers had finally set up and the compound courtyard was now decorated in silver flowers and creeping ivy with everywhere fairy lights twinkling. Gossamer streamers and sapphire lanterns wove a lattice over the party guests and everyone was here: Faction members, Beta Phi brothers, family, friends, and Mr. Party himself, Aidan Thompson.
"Leah! There you are."
The blonde werewolf threw an arm around his half-sister, pulling her in close and shoving a glass in her hand. Leah stared down at the white wine with a laughing snort.
"This is a little classy for my taste, but thanks."
"We'll break into the hard stuff later. After party at Rousseau's."
"That's more like it," Leah cheered, toasting their drinks. "So how's our old man?"
"Alive and kicking…and on sabbatical in Florida."
"Good for him," she smiled sincerely. "He deserves it."
As half-siblings, Aidan and Leah shared the same chill disposition, fine facial features, and a father who was a history professor at the local university. At the beginning, when she had first learned the truth of her parentage, Leah had wanted some space – from her father, from Aidan, and from the other Crescent wolves of New Orleans.
Over the years, however, Leah had made an effort to reach out more, to build the relationships that had been thrust upon her with her own hands and at her own pace. If her father came to Boston for a lecture, they would go out to dinner and he would tell her stories about the years he lived as a wolf under a witch's curse. If Aidan traveled north for business they would spend all night at the bars and greet the sunrise together.
But although Aidan and his werewolf fraternity warmly welcomed her as one of the boys, Leah knew that she wasn't really a true Crescent wolf. For one, she was far too entangled with the Mikaelson family to be viewed as anything but one of them.
Then there was the fact that she wasn't a wolf at all, not any more.
"Word on the street's they've been working you like a dog," Leah smirked, amused with herself.
Aidan rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his open beer. Five years had fleshed out his tall college frame, darkening his sun-bleached surfer hair and giving his voice the heavy gravitas of a pack leader. He had long ago ditched the flip-flops and popped collars for expensive tee-shirts under even more expensive blazers. It was a nice look on him but only served to remind Leah that time seemed to be changing everything but her.
"Has Hope been complaining again? She doesn't like my hours; says a manager's just supposed to manage, not roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty."
"Hope is afraid of dirt," Leah remarked with all seriousness. "And aren't your cousins helping out?"
"With the day to day stuff, sure, but the casinos are all in my name until dad gets back and business has been booming, which is good for everyone but me I guess. I have a stack of reports a mile high coming across my desk every day and when you work for the city all those numbers have to be legit. That all falls on me, Leah. The Guerrera empire was such an illegal mess when we inherited it: none of the bars had valid liquor licenses, Rousseau's was in the red, the casinos owed a gazillion dollars to the IRS. Did you know tomorrow's tax day? I've been with our accountant for days. Only Hope could pull me away from the books at a time like this."
"Same," Leah agreed with a knowing nod. She scanned the room to make sure Hope was still out of earshot. Finding Elijah instead, she met his searching gaze, raising her glass to let him know she was perfectly happy though not nearly drunk enough.
Aidan watched their interaction intently. There were some things he just would never understand. He squinted across the courtyard.
"Is Elijah Mikaelson not wearing a suit for once? What is that he's got on - a blue sweater?"
Leah glared at Aidan for the personal insult.
"Excuse me, not just any sweater. That's a lambswool-angora cable-knit something-something, 1000-thread count - ugh, fuck it. I honestly don't know the first thing about clothes except that you wear them. The woman at the store said it was fancy so I bought it for Elijah last Christmas. What I can tell you is that it cost more than God makes in a week so lay off. Also, clearly you're blind - it's cobalt not blue."
Aidan laughed; what was clear was that Elijah's patrician preferences were starting to rub off on Leah.
"Well, it's certainly an improvement over those stuffy suits," he conceded.
"Like you'd know. Do you even own a suit? I don't understand how you get away with dressing like some yuppie hipster to your fancy job at City Hall."
"I'm in municipal finance, Leah. No one cares what I wear as long as I bring in the money this city needs."
"Speaking of…" she moved on, "have you and Hope talked about…you know, your job? Because all that stress can really start to strain a relationship…or so I've heard," she quickly added. "Anyway, I've just noticed you and Hope haven't moved in together yet."
Aidan sighed. Leah didn't know the meaning of subtle.
"Ah yes, so it appears Hope has definitely been complaining about me," he frowned, taking another sip from his beer. "Leah, if you must know, it's just an inconvenient time and I don't think it's a good idea for us to get a place together until all the Factions have officially ratified the new Constitution."
"That sounds like an excuse."
"It's what we call political reality, Leah. Not to be crass, but there's already enough talk around town about the Thompsons being in bed with the Mikaelsons and I'm talking figuratively and literally here."
Her jaw dropped; the Faction apparently thought it was open season on her private life.
"I hardly see how that's any of their business," Leah grumbled. "What does sex have to do with politics?"
"Everything, Leah - aren't you a history major or something? Then you should already know: behind every influential man is an even more influential woman. That's what the Faction's afraid of."
"Afraid?" Leah coughed, her wine going down too fast. "What - they think you're being manipulated or something?"
"In a way. Some consider me dating Hope and representing the wolves to be a conflict of interest; there's been talk. I try to keep the worst of it away from Hope but folks have been speaking out more and more at meetings about what they see as 'compromised motivations.' They're worried that us Thompsons are too involved with the Mikaelsons - and it's not just the vampires and wolves who're taking issue."
"Who the hell else cares?"
He used his bottle to point across the courtyard.
"Look over there, for example – that woman is one of the leaders of the witch delegation. She's been stalling negotiations over the Constitution for weeks."
Leah, like every good Mikaelson, was not a fan of the witches; they had lied to her, manipulated her, and killed her one too many times in the past.
"Don't tell me they want more free rein to do their shady ass rituals."
"Naturally, but under the new laws they'd have to turn that ritual into a bill, introduce it at a meeting and have the Faction vote and accept it first. Quite democratic, but still…the witches are worried that the werewolves and even the vampires are being, um…persuaded…to form a voting bloc, to always vote against them and in the interests of the United Hybrid Kingdom."
"You mean Klaus," Leah figured flatly.
"They mean you and Hope. It's a chain of influence, Leah. The vampires and the werewolves won't dare to cast a vote in favor of any witch proposal if it ends up looking like they're supporting the same people who went after Klaus Mikaelson's daughter and Elijah Mikaelson's girl."
Leah thought this over for a moment, hiding her disgust in her glass. Elijah was the government nerd, she hated the mere thought of a bunch of people arguing over nothing in a room for hours, especially if these people were arguing about the implications of her relationship with Elijah like it was some United Nations resolution and not none of their fucking business.
"This is all just too stupid."
"It's supernatural politics, Leah. It's a fact of life in New Orleans."
"And that's exactly why I left," she admitted freely. "I still don't get why Hope wants to have a hand in all this crazy."
"How else can you change things for the better? I just wish Hope would see that she and I are both working toward the same goal. She's working on the Constitution and I'm working on the economy but we're both working to improve this city for the supernaturals who live in it."
"She just wants to spend more time with you, Aidan. Can't fault her for that."
"Well, there's work to be done," he began to fluster, "and not all of us can just run off and honeymoon for five years."
It came out a bit starker than he had meant and Leah found herself on the defensive.
"Boston is not some tropical island, Aidan, and Elijah and I did not run off – we moved, people do that, and we're not on our honeymoon –we aren't married. We're just happier away from this dumb city."
"You liked it here when I first met you."
"Was that before or after the witches killed me?"
"Hmm," Aidan hummed. "Point taken. Things are different now though, Leah. You can come back now. Hope certainly wants you back."
Leah shook her head furiously, finishing the rest of her wine in one go and immediately swapping it for another from the tray of a passing waiter.
"No way," she insisted, swirling her glass. "Leaving New Orleans was the best decision I ever made. Elijah and I have a house, neighbors, jobs, lives. We do normal things now, like stuff real people do. In fact, you would be really proud of me: Elijah and I just hosted a dinner party for some of our colleagues and I made my famous ten-layer trifle for them and they liked it."
"Who doesn't like a giant bowl of whipped cream?"
"I'm not joking," she poked him, growing serious again. "Normal is nice. Didn't you ever just want to be Aidan the man and not Aidan the wolf? If you really want the good life just leave the supernatural stuff behind - leave New Orleans behind. It's something to strive for. Maybe you and Hope should consider it."
"This is my home, Leah. This is Hope's home."
"I'm just saying. It's the people who make it home, not the location."
"New Orleans needs me, Leah. There's still so much to be done, to be fixed. I've gotten it all to a better place, but it's not like I can retire anytime soon."
"And what does Hope say to that?"
"To quit and let one of my cousins take over the casinos. That if it's a matter of money we should just get married and join bank accounts because she has enough for both of us."
Leah nearly spit out her drink. She thought Hope was trying to go for subtle with the marriage hints.
"She's funny," Leah concluded, realizing Aidan had simply thought Hope was joking.
"And yet she didn't find it ironic that my MBA is from a school with her name on it."
"Ah, yes, the Mikaelson School of Business. I still remember the day Elijah waltzed into my office and dropped a cool 35 million just so he could stalk me. What a keeper."
Hope wandered up just as their laughter died down.
"Why are you hiding in the corner?" she demanded in rapid excitement, already quite giddy off the champagne. "Stop plotting whatever and come on, you two! Leah, grab Elijah – there's five minutes 'til midnight, move it!"
Hope grabbed Aidan by the wrist, yanking him through the crowd. Leah hurried to follow after them, searching for Elijah as she swam through the mesh of bodies.
There were so many people dancing in couples and chatting in little groups that she soon lost Hope's lead. As luck would have it, someone eventually ran straight into her, knocking the contents of her glass down the front of her dress.
"Ay dios mío, forgive me, child."
The woman looked horrified at the result of her clumsiness. She had greying black hair, a slight Mexican accent, and a harmless sort of warmth about her. It was the woman Aidan had pointed out earlier: the leader of the witch delegation. She looked so timid and scared, like Leah was going to hex her or something.
Ironic.
"You're Leah St. Ann, yes? Forgive me and allow me to set this right."
"No, please, it's fine," Leah admitted, waving away the woman's concern. She shook out the velvety material of her grey dress and the liquid rolled right off. "Look, it's all good. No harm done."
"You are a sweet child," the woman smiled, reaching out to cover Leah's hand with her own. Leah tried to pull it away but the woman held tight, continuing her falsely kind words. "You remind me of my own daughter. I lost her some years ago. She was so spirited, so much potential – just like you."
"Oh-h," Leah stuttered, unsure of what to say. "I'm…I'm sorry for your loss."
"You will be."
Leah blinked, leaning in. She couldn't possibly have heard that right.
"What did you say? Ow."
A spark ran up her arm. It was probably just static from her dress; the night was dry and the velvet was already clinging to her bare legs. She reflexively yanked her hand out of the woman's grasp. The witch was still smiling and Leah began to wonder if she was not all there.
"I should go…"
"Of course. Enjoy the night while you can, dear."
Leah frowned but was immediately distracted. Elijah had called her name from somewhere through the crowd. Glancing across the courtyard he was nowhere in sight but when she turned around again the witch woman was gone as well.
"Freaks," she muttered coldly. Leah recalled that one of the many reasons she disliked witches was that they all seemed to lack basic social skills. Hope didn't count of course. Hope wasn't a witch, she was a Mikaelson – she was hybrid and she was turning twenty-seven in less than a minute.
Smoothing out her dress, Leah sought out Elijah once more. He appeared still lost to the chaos of the courtyard. Finding Hope, however, was an easy endeavor. Klaus was grandstanding on the courtyard steps with his daughter at his side; the music had been cut and the corona of guests was turned toward Hope as midnight rapidly approached.
Leah was stuck in the mob and couldn't get any closer. She noticed Hayley up on the balcony, still wrapped in her matronly shawl as she oversaw everything from on high.
Scanning the back wall, Leah at last located Elijah. He stood with Rebekah and Philippe on the other side of the party; she locked eyes with him for a second and he acknowledged her reappearance with a raise of his flute. Aidan was at the foot of the staircase using his phone to record Klaus' speech which already had his daughter blushing with embarrassment.
"And then she realized there was half a worm wiggling out of her apple and despite both Hayley and I and half the Quarter insisting that eating a worm never killed anyone to this day Hope refuses to eat anything with apples in it."
The crowded chuckled right on cue, the laugh track to this family sit-com.
"And then," Klaus went on, "there is the saga of her driving license but let's spare poor Hope, shall we, if only because my brother is signaling that the count down is upon us. Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, raising his glass toward his daughter, "please join me in heralding in another wonderful year for my beautiful daughter, Hope Mikaelson."
She joined the crowd in an enthusiastic round of applause as the clock struck twelve and silver and sapphire balloons rained down upon everyone. Aidan could barely hold the camera straight he was laughing so hard; Hope had gone as red as the apples she hated as the party goers began a rousing yet surprisingly harmonious chorus of "Happy Birthday."
Leah found herself joining in, carried along by the energy in the room until there was loud mechanical noise, a chk-chk, like someone cocking a gun, like the static in the air before the lightning struck the tree.
Every muscle in her hybrid body tensed in anticipation of the unknown threat. Looking around, she at first didn't understand why no one else seemed concerned. The sound must have been subsonic to their ears; most of the guests were still singing, oblivious to the ominous noise which Leah was starting to wonder if she had only imagined.
But the eldest Original was already weaving toward her, a shark in the water as he moved with deadly purpose and precision. He had heard it too, and from the balcony Hayley had just enough time to lock eyes with Klaus before the noise sounded once more, so loud this time that panic immediately erupted among the guests.
Elijah touched Leah's arm just as the lights thumped off and the entire courtyard was plunged into darkness.