After Jane-Anne's death, the witches were gathered around her body, holding candles and saying a prayer.

There was a lot of whistling. Vampires climbed over cars, jumping off of rooftops, walking in the streets, surrounding the witches.

"Well, well, well," Marcel said. "What have we here?" He looked at Sophie Deveraux. "I got to tell you, Soph, this street corner is not proving the luckiest spot for your family tonight." Sophie stood. Diego transformed, hissing. The witches watched nervously. "Not half an hour ago, we had to teach your sister a little lesson."

"We're putting her to rest, Marcel," Sophie told him. "Leave us alone."

"I never said you could move the body," Marcel told her. "Matter of fact, I left her here for a reason, send a message." He looked around the crowd of witches. "If anybody is thinking of joining some kind of rebellion, my rules state that witches can't practice magic in the Quarter, and yet a little birdie informed me that Jane-Anne was cooking up something magically delicious. Oh, yeah. While I have you, quick Q&A. My old friend, the hybrid, Klaus, he just happened to show up out of the blue asking for, of all people, Jane-Anne. Any idea why?"

"I don't know," Sophie told him. "Witches don't get involved in vampire business."

Marcel walked closer to her. "Mm, that would be pretty stupid, that's for sure." He circled around her. "Tell you what. Go back to the restaurant. Cook up some of that famoud gumbo and keep those tourists happy." He looked at me. "Take the body."

"What?" Sophie asked. I stepped toward the body. Sophie tried to stop me. "No. Stop. Stop." Thierry and Diego held her back. "Marcel--"

"We're gonna hold on to your sister's body in case maybe you remember why Klaus is here," I told her.

"Noah, please," Sophie told me. "Her body won't be at peace."

"Not our problem," I sang, carrying the body away, following the others.

*

At the compound abattoir, everyone was drinking, dancing, partying to the music, having a good time.

When yet another confrontation between Klaus and Marcel brought everyone's attention to it.

"Hey, man," Marcel told him. "Where'd you run off to?"

"You mean your minions aren't still documenting my every move?" Klaus asked.

"Someone put you in a mood," Marcel told him. "What can I do?"

"What you can do is you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches," Klaus told him.

"You know I owe you everything I got, but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one," Marcel told him. "This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that."

"Your town?" Klaus repeated.

"Damn straight," Marcel answered.

"That's funny, because when I left 100 years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down, and now look at you," Klaus told him. "Master of your domain. Prince of the city." The music stopped. The crowd watched them. "I'd like to know how."

"Why?" Marcel asked. "Jealous? Hey, man, I get it. Three hundred years ago, you helped build a back water penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing, and the party never ends. You wanna pass on through? You wanna stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine. My home, my family, my rules."

"And if someone breaks those rules?" Klaus asked.

"They die," Marcel answered. "Mercy is for the weak. You taught me that, too. And I'm not the prince of the Quarter, friend. I'm the king! Show me some respect."

Klaus took this all in for a few moments. He rushed toward Thierry, biting him viciously in the neck, letting him fall to the floor. Klaus spoke with blood dripping from his lips. "Your friend will be dead by the weekend, which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet, I cannot be killed. I am immortal. Who has the power, friend?"

Klaus faced off with Marcel.

Marcel said nothing.

After a moment, Klaus smiled around at the crowd, turning and leaving.

*

At Rosseau's, everyone except Thierry was gathered.

Marcel and I sat at a table together.

"So, Klaus returns, and the first thing he does is kill Thierry," I told him. "Could he be anymore predictable?"

"T's not dead yet," Marcel told me. "We still have time."

"Time for what?" I asked. "Sit back and watch him die?"

We heard Elijah Mikaelson's voice from behind me. "I may have a few ideas." Marcel and I looked toward him. "Would you like me to elaborate?"

"Elijah Mikaelson," I said.

"Noah Dumaine," Elijah replied.

Everyone else stood.

"No," Marcel told them. "I got this. It's all good."

Elijah sat on one side of the table between us. "It's time we had a little chat."

Marcel and I didn't answer.

*

"Well, if you're gonna talk, talk," I told him. "We got things to do."

"Oh, my, the two of you havr grown quite confident over the last century, haven't you?" Elijah asked.

"Us?" Marcel asked. "I'd say it's you and your brother who got cocky, come to my town like you own the place."

"Well, we did own the place once," Elijah told us. "We were all quite happy here, as I recall, although we could never control those pesky witches at the French Quarter. How do you do it?"

"Hm, your brother asked me the same question," Marcel told him. "I gave him the same answer. It's my business. Everything in the Quarter is my business."

Elijah looked at me. "And what would be your role in all of this, Noah? Marcel as the king of the Quarter, you as his right hand man? The prince? The one the others come to?"

I shrugged, looking at Marcel.

"I trust him more than anyone, yes," Marcel answered. "When I need anything, he's the first one I go to. I turned him after your family ran for the hills. We rebuilt this city. Together."

"Kind of like you and Klaus, right?" I asked. "Except, I never abandoned you."

"I've known you a long time, Noah," Elijah told me. "You're not one to mind your manners, or control your tongue. If you have something to share, share."

"Klaus comes into town all nice and friendly," I told him. "Then he starts looking down his nose at what we've done like it's some cheap knock off or one of his dumb paintings. Then he gets pissed off like a little bitch and bites one of the guys."

"Well, I do apologize for Klaus' poor behavior," Elijah told us. "I assume you know that that bite will kill your friend within a matter of days." Marcel looked down. "Of course, Niklaus' blood would cure him."

I looked up. "What?"

"Yes," Elijah said. "Apparently the blood of the hybrid will cure a werewolf bite. Quite handy, little thing when one needs leverage in a negotiation."

"What kind of negotiations we talking about?" Marcel asked.

"Return the body of the witch Jane-Anne, allow her people to put her to rest," Elijah answered.

"What do you care about the witches?" Marcel asked.

"Well, that's my business, now, isn't it?" Elijah asked.

Marcel had given the body to Elijah so he could take her back to the witches to put her to rest.

Klaus had come to heal Thierry, to save his life before he died.

And Marcel told everyone to act normal, even though we were all suspicious of Klaus and Elijah and why they were back in town.