The_Originals_The_Rise_booksfree.org_

50
brought him to New Orleans, and she didn’t even know if
he had a wife and family back in France.
If only he would give up this ridiculous fixation he had
for the occult, they could get along so wonderfully. He was
never without his book of French fairytales that, she had
learned from delicate questioning, detailed the supposed
histories of creatures she was all too familiar with. “Just
a silly little interest of mine,” he’d said lightly when she’d
expressed her curiosity, but his hazel eyes had held an
intense gleam. A furtive glance through the book when he
was otherwise occupied had assured her it held not a stitch
of truth—crosses and garlic, indeed—and Rebekah had
determined anew to steer his attention in a more productive
direction.
It took them only a few minutes to reach the newly
constructed prison. The building was more solid than the
surrounding tents, but still rough and unfinished, cobbled
together from whatever the soldiers had scrounged from the
forest. It was no better looking on the inside. The dozen
or so men who had been unlucky enough to be caught
disturbing the peace were crammed into one small cell.
Rebekah could only imagine how uncomfortable it must
be to sleep. The straw beneath them was dank, and barely
any air stirred inside from the one high, barred window.
Eric’s second-in-command, Felix, stood guard by the door.
“You are perfectly safe,” Eric murmured in her ear,
mistaking her disgust for fear. “Do you know any of them?”