Andra found a lead first.

She was sure that Marcel, Elijah, and Hayley would have come to the same conclusion if they kept looking at each name individually, examining death records. They'd been an hour or so away from discovering that one of the names, Clara Summerlin, a witch who died during the Influenza Epidemic of 1919, didn't fit the pattern of Céleste ending her life to jump into new bodies.

She just happened to be a little more efficient, not because she was any more clever, but because she'd tried to think like her enemy.

"I didn't imagine I'd be able to track them all the way to the location," said Andra, showing a map with several marked locations. "I found traces of blood at the edge of the Bayou where Rebekah was kidnapped, but they definitely didn't follow a path leading into it. That's to be expected; they would have been entering wolf territory. I highlighted the places where the witches have their communities and I figured they wouldn't hold two Original hostages there; they'd risk Elijah decimating their homes and sacred places. Plus this doesn't seem to be supported by the whole witch population; while walking through the Cauldron I heard fearful whispers. I assumed it would be somewhere remote, not too close to the city. The docks were ruled out because the vampires control that. But these abandoned buildings... old gumbo shack by the edge of the Bayou, the Fleur-de-Lis Sanatorium, and the empty storage facility all seemed like good places to hide them. So, I pulled up Google and lo and behold..."

She showed a picture from the 'images' section, where the group of nurses from 1919 had been photographed. "That's Genevieve Cotillard. I confirmed it through the library records I got. She worked at the Fleur-de-Lis. Coincidence? Don't think so."

Marcel turned away, looking distressed. And suddenly, Andra realized she knew why.

She'd never known the name of the witch who helped him and Rebekah contact Mikael in 1919. She recalled the way Rebekah had gone white as a sheet when she'd said the names of the resurrected witches, how she'd rushed off immediately to search the city. And now Marcel was reacting in too suspicious of a way at her mention of the sanatorium, Genevieve, and the year 1919.

"Marcel?" prompted Elijah. When he didn't turn around, back turned like a scolded child, he repeated, "Marcel. Do I need to remind you that Niklaus and Rebekah are somewhere suffering horribly? If you know something, talk."

"The Sanatorium," he muttered. "That's where you'll find them."

"Are you sure?" asked Hayley with raised brows. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

Elijah wasn't satisfied with that. "How do you know?" he demanded.

He looked at Andra and gulped before speaking, "If I'm right, you need to know exactly what we're walking into. We did something, Rebekah and I... I think the witches are trying to use it against her. It was, uh... something that you're not gonna like. That witch, Genevieve, she helped Rebekah and I find Mikael so we could bring him to New Orleans in 1919."

The Original was furious. "For the better part of a century, I have wondered how Father found us, what foolish mistake that we had made to destroy our time in the one place that we could finally call home. Did you know, I even blamed myself for a time, Marcellus?" In the blink of an eye, he'd grabbed Marcel by the throat and pinned him to the wall.

Andra swiped her hand out to stop Hayley from advancing. "Elijah, cute as this is, it does nothing to find your siblings."

He ignored her. "Niklaus treated you like a son. And Rebekah–"

"I loved her," gasped Marcel, struggling to breathe. "All we ever wanted was to be together, but as long as Klaus was around, that was never gonna happen. But hey, I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, huh?"

Elijah dropped him. Andra snapped her fingers, "Seriously, every minute you are here, you leave more time for the witches to reveal this all to Klaus! You should go get them, now."

The Original relented. "When Klaus learns the truth, there will be no end to his rage. I will not let my sister suffer that wrath. Marcellus, you come with me. Andra, if you would please keep Hayley safe."

She didn't argue. No way in hell was she going to go get in the way of Klaus attacking his sister if he already knew the truth.

It dawned on her that she'd lost her leverage against Marcel. He knew two secrets of hers that he could tell Klaus to hurt her. And now she had no dirt on him.

She calmed herself down by reminding herself she could kill Marcel if it came down to it.

She didn't want to, though.

"Have to hand it to those witches," said Andra as Hayley paced in the study. "It was a more or less clever play. Letting the riddle be solved after making such a reveal... destabilizing and likely destroying the family from within by revealing their own transgressions, letting it be what tears them apart. They must be betting on the fact that Klaus will kill Rebekah and either a) die in the process or b) kill Elijah when he inevitably tries to protect her. Or, another option, that he'd dagger his siblings– who seem to be the voice of reason here– hence leaving him without counsel and vulnerable to listening to his own impulses where he'd end up more likely defeated in a mass attack." She sat on the desk, "But, if I would have been in their little posse, I would have dug up as much dirt as I could find, even from Elijah. Make it as tense as possible, leave no choice but for them to go to the extreme."

Hayley winced. "I really hope Rebekah will be okay."

"Elijah and Marcel will find her. She'll be fine. Marcel, who knows. A two-hundred-year-old vampire won't run as fast as a thousand-year-old one who has experience hiding from homicidal maniacs. I bet the only way she'd get Marcel to live would be if she knocked him out and dragged him with her and made him follow her agenda so they could survive."

This seemed to give Hayley an idea. "Are you up for a kidnapping?" asked the wolf slyly.

"Sounds fun. Who are we kidnapping?"

"Céleste. One of the names on Elijah was Brynne Deveraux... from Sophie's bloodline. She's the witch Marcel used to curse the Crescents. Céleste cast the spell, which means she knows how to undo it."

"Great. Let's stop by the Jardin Gris. I can make a lobelia flower bomb on our way to the Sanatorium."

"It's a little concerning to me how easily you can make a bomb."

"My fingers work fast and they're precise. I can show you more, if you'd like." She winked, and Hayley rolled her eyes playfully.

Hayley drove them as Andra sat in the passenger's seat, fiddling with the bomb and occasionally watching how Hayley worked the wheel and pedals. Driving really didn't seem all that difficult. Surely when things in New Orleans calmed down, she could start learning.

They parked a block away and walked the rest of the way, inching toward one of the entrances and hiding behind a pillar as Céleste, in Sabine Laurent's body, exited the house, presumably after Elijah and Marcel entered.

Andra threw the bomb. It exploded against Céleste's shoulder, giving her a mouthful of powder that she inhaled immediately, inducing a coughing fit and a twitch in her hands as her magic was blocked. Hayley swept forward, hitting her on the back of the head with a shovel she'd brought along. The witch crumpled to the floor, groaning.

"Hey there, witch bitch," said Hayley darkly. "You and I are gonna have a little chat."

They carried her back to the car, where Andra sat in the back seat and used her knife and a McDonald's straw to infuse lobelia flower into Céleste's bloodstream. She also made sure to put a bit on her tongue to let it dissolve. With a wire, she tied her hands together. As soon as she was ready to go, she stepped out, letting Hayley drive into the Bayou while she found her own way home.

Thankfully, it seemed Klaus hadn't gotten a chance to kill Rebekah (though he had given her a few good smacks). Elijah informed her that Klaus had been subdued with Papa Tunde's blade, placing him in a torturous sleep. Rebekah and Marcel had fled.

She didn't realize how lonely she was without Marcel's constant visits. It dawned on her that she needed to make friends; it's what a normal person would do.

She decided to spend the night at a club. She'd asked Thierry (who she knew Marcel trusted most) to help her get an identification card with a 1989 birthday (being twenty-two felt more secure than being just twenty-one) to earn her way in. It wasn't hard to get free drinks once inside, but she wasn't sure that the people flirting with her were 'friend' material. She would have taken one of the women she met home with her if Marcel hadn't sent her a text, asking if she could talk on the phone.

"Speak loud," she said, stepping into the club bathroom. "My ears are ringing."

"I can't stay on the run," he said. "Not yet. I need to go back and get Davina. Can you help me?"

"Woah, woah, woah, you need to stay the hell out of the city if you want to live. If I can, when she comes back to life, I will get Davina out and send her right to you. Do not come back here if you have any hope of seeing her again. She'd be coming back just to find you buried in a shallow grave. Bide your time, the witches who took the Harvest girls' places aren't even dead yet. Hell, Monique Deveraux apparently killed her aunt and is helping those psychotic bitches even though they're keeping her friends from coming back. The situation is bad enough without considering the anger Klaus is feeling right now. If you want to protect Davina, you have to be able to keep yourself safe, first."

"Then kill the witches and get her back for me. I'll do anything."

"You love her, I know, and I am well aware that in this moment all you want is to see your little girl again but Marcel, I don't know how close I can get to these witches when I can't track them, and when the Originals are literally indisposed. I can't take a witch on my own. I work in the Cauldron, they'll see me coming from a mile away. When the time is right, we will murder them and get Davina back. For now... don't let your love for her put you in danger. She's dead right now, Marcel. If she stays dead a little longer to make sure you are able to welcome her back later on... it's okay. If you want to help her, you have to live."

He didn't answer for a good while. "Let me guess," she said dryly, "you're going to come back anyway." When he continued with his silence, she knew she was right. "I don't see why I bother anymore if you're going to do whatever the hell you want. Goodnight, Marcel. Start planning the outfit you'll be buried in."

Her suspicions were confirmed the next day when Hayley returned to the city and informed her that Céleste had made a cure for the wolves (and was now dead thanks to Elijah) and that Thierry, Marcel, and Rebekah had managed to kill Bastianna, but not Genevieve. Davina had been resurrected, but the cost had been high. The Original sister was now trapped inside the Lafayette Cemetery with Klaus, Elijah, and the infamous white oak stake.

However, it seemed things hadn't gone as badly as she thought. Rebekah had lived (although she was now banished from New Orleans) and Marcel had stupidly gone to confront Klaus with a group of vampires, earning himself an exile from the French Quarter.

"Honestly, they brought this on themselves," said Andra, rubbing her head as she leaned over the Jardin Gris's counter. She set her phone down when a customer walked in. "Thierry. Need anything?"

He stared at the new shelves, a wistful look in his eyes. "Need you to talk to Marcel."

"I'm not talking to Marcel unless he solicits my advice. Which he never listens to, by the way."

Thierry moved closer. "He came to me, determined to round up an army to take back the city. Says the Originals came into town like they own the place, like they own him. He thinks they took his home and people and he don't want to run away from it."

"And he's doing this... how? What weapons does he have? What resources does he hold an advantage over? Who, besides the few deserting vampires, would back him? I sure as hell am not fighting an Original. And he's banished from the Quarter, so how is he going to get to them in the first place? It's on sight if they see him here."

"That's what I said. Invited him to join me in Algiers. He's insisting he doesn't want to give up. And I told him it's gonna take more than a pretty speech this time. He won't listen to me. But like it or not, he knows you're being honest with whatever you advise him. You say things how they are and you're cautious. I would do anything for him but I'm not going to jump into a fight we can't win. I already lost Katie, and I don't want to lose..."

Andra sighed. "Okay. I'll see what I can do."

He gave her his address, making his own way out to give them privacy to talk. Andra walked in as Marcel was serving himself a drink.

"Nice place," she said, admiring the high ceilings. "Is your bedroom this pretty?"

He offered her a glass. "Let me guess. Thierry sent you."

"Of course he did. Because you're on a suicide mission. You just got Davina back and now you want to go get yourself killed? What a great dad you are."

He didn't like this comment. "If you came here just to criticize me, you can head out."

"No. You need to push past your stupid ego. Is it really so big that instead of begging forgiveness for 1919– which you know went poorly, and is a decision you don't need to stand by no matter how much you hate Klaus since, at the end of the day, it was hurtful to betray your friend like that– you went to confront him in the company of your vampires? You need to accept that you're only hurting yourself and your community with this. You could have all been killed. You went to confront him and you invited him to hurt you, challenged him, even. You should know better than to continue pushing his buttons and working on his anger. Instead of trying to guide him towards his ability to forgive and love– which he surely has because he once cared very much for you– you went and delivered yourself on a silver platter? It's childish.

"Maybe apologizing and asking for forgiveness would have been humiliating but at least you'd be setting Klaus on a path of trying to get over it. Instead you poked the bear and you got banished and had to leave the Quarter like a dog with its tail between its legs. What do your friends think of you now? Will they have any faith in you? Hell no. I wouldn't. You are repeatedly calling these vampires to battle for a grudge you have against a man who raised you. Your problem is between you and Klaus. They may hate him– nearly everyone does– but this is not their war, it's yours. Let's face it, the city doesn't even have anything to do with it anymore, it's just Klaus and how he imposes his will on others. Does it suck? Yeah. You know what sucks more? Becoming an orphan. Something I know you understand. Do you want to do that to Davina again? Because you can't survive a one-to-one and even with a thousand vampires, you can't take Klaus down because Elijah will always stand with him and even alone, an Original Hybrid won't be stopped by the children you call friends. You are all too young and weak compared to him. His bite will kill any one of you.

"My advice is this: either find a way to muster up an apology or enjoy your exile and try to lay low. If you keep pissing him off, it won't end well for you. And at the end of the day, everything Klaus is doing right now is going to be for the sake of his child. The moment he starts seeing you as a threat to the baby's safety, no amount of apologies will save your life. You can sulk all you want, and I'll leave you to it in a moment. But just think about it. Learn to live with Klaus within the city or learn to live without him outside the city. Do what it takes to stay alive because you have someone depending on you and you have friends who deserve better than a leader who points them to wars they will surely be annihilated in. At the end of the day you need to pick one thing, Marcel Gerard. The city... or your life. Choose one."

She didn't see him for a month. Perhaps he was sulking in Algiers, or maybe he had left the city. She didn't know.

The Crescents had been cured. Klaus, apparently, was attracted to backstabbing redheads who tortured him and his sister and liked to sexile everyone from the Compound. Davina was being made to work with the other Harvest girls, minus the one who'd yet to be resurrected. Andra made sure to give her a smile whenever she saw her. It didn't seem like she was having the best time.

It was almost funny to her that Klaus, after wanting the throne so badly, now took absolutely no responsibility whatsoever and preferred to paint all day than to communicate at all with the vampires, witches, or werewolves. It was like he took control just to have it, not to do anything with it. She found out quite easily that Elijah had something to say about it, and had tried to get a peace treaty signed until Hayley barged into the meeting, upset with the fact the werewolves hadn't been included. And then, in light of Father Kieran's deteriorating condition due to a witch's curse, a woman had approached Elijah with the intent of being the representative for the humans.

"Here," said Andra, slapping a stack of papers on Elijah's desk. "Saw the party being set up outside, figured that because you're not out there helping your hired workers, you have enough time to read through this."

He brought it closer, noticing her name at the top. "What is this?"

"My résumé. Every skill I have, every capture I've made, every person I've killed since 1520. I want to represent the human faction. I know you met with Francesca Correa and I want to take the position before she gets it."

He counted the number of pages, surprised she reached sixteen with single spacing and size nine Arial font. "Ms. Correa has received the blessing of the human leaders in the community."

"Yeah, I don't give a shit. She runs a drug empire and owns a casino to launder the money, she's pushing her own agenda and won't have the interests of supernaturals at heart because she isn't one. She doesn't understand such interactions. I may be a golem but I am, for all intents and purposes, a human. I've always lived among them, I've always protected them from supernaturals, I know what it's like to be vulnerable to them. Who would you rather have representing the humans, some lady you don't even know or me, someone who has helped your family and knows more about running things and being fair than the entire Correa lineage combined? If I need the blessing of the human leaders, you tell me who to talk to. I'm quite charming and persuasive when I need to be."

Elijah's lip twitched, and he tapped one finger against the stack of papers. "Very well. The position is yours."

"Good. I'll see you back here at eight."

She wore the same dress she'd had on the night of her first party in the city, but without the mask over her eyes, and with less weapons hidden in her outfit. She still kept a small piece of wood to pin her hair up, and two small knives she could fit under the curves of her heels.

She saw Francesca Correa while she was getting a drink at the bar. The woman shot her a very obvious stink eye, and Andra simply smiled in an annoyingly sweet way, wiggling her fingers in greeting.

"Watch your back," said Francesca lowly as she passed by.

"You watch yours," said Andra, much more loudly. She added, under her breath, "Bitch."

She grew bored much more easily this time. She found it boring without an ulterior motive to spy while having fun, and she felt out of place without anyone to talk to. Thierry wasn't here, and neither was Marcel. Hayley was with her wolves, Andra couldn't stand the witches, and Elijah was too busy for her to make idle chit-chat with.

She didn't plan to stay the whole time, just long enough for Elijah to be satisfied with the interactions and have them sign his treaty. Then, she was off to her cozy bed with fuzzy socks, pajamas, and an episode of Dance Moms, which she enjoyed, strangely enough.

And then, she heard a crash.

"Oh, boy," she said, downing the rest of her margarita and leaning back on the nearest pillar to watch what would happen now that Elijah had slammed one of the wolves face-down on the table, while his buddy pinned Diego to the wall with a stake pressed over his heart. She faced the bartender, "My money's on the vampires, who do you support?" He gave her a weird look and she turned away, shaking her head, "Jeez. Not like I'm asking if you're team Edward or team Jacob. Now that is how you start a fight."

"What's stopping you?" asked Hayley from the staircase, everyone else dead silent as they waited to see what was going to happen. "Kill him. Go ahead, Elijah, do it. I mean, it's not like he doesn't deserve to die. I mean, it was Oliver who handed Rebekah over to the witches so they could torture her. But, then again, wasn't it Diego who led a werewolf massacre last month? And the witches cursed the wolves, while the humans stood back and let it all happen. So, when you think about it, everyone here deserves to die."

"Are you approaching a point?" asked Elijah tightly.

"My point, Elijah, is this– if we can't all learn to get along, if our families can't create some sort of community, then what's the point? Kill each other and get it all over with."

Andra was the only one who clapped, which apparently wasn't funny, either. "You people are so boring sometimes," she muttered.

All the same, she signed the agreement. She couldn't help but feel like something was missing when Diego stepped up behind her to sign.

It should have been Marcel.