Augusta Fern's Blog, page 2

Meet the Gunnars! Wilmington Edition

SOREN

Wake at 7:30 am, Breakfast- prepared by Henley.

8:30 to 10:30 am, Learning Television

10:30 to 12:00 pm, Snack - prepared by Henley. Play time – beach or outing

Outings: Park
Cape Fear Museum
Cameron Art Museum
Fort Fisher Aquarium
The Children’s Museum of Wilmington
Wilmington Railroad Museum
The USS North Carolina-Battleship (Soren’s favorite)

12:00 to 1:30 pm, Lunch – Prepared by Henley or healthy lunch while out, small portions. (Please arrange with Henley if you will be out)

1:30 to 3:30 pm, Nap

3:30 to 4:00 pm, Snack prepared by Henley

4:00 to 5:00 pm, Quiet play time in Soren’s room (this is your break)

5:00 to 6:00 pm, Dinner prepared by Henley (on occasion you may leave Soren with Henley to have dinner alone, please arrange with Henley 24 hours prior)

6:00 to 6:30 pm, Bath time (Soren may play for 15 minutes after you bathe him)

6:30 to 8:00 pm, Reading time

8:00 Bedtime


*Justus arrives Friday afternoon.


Below the schedule are various phone numbers; Wrightsville Beach Police, Fire and Rescue, and EMT. She’s also listed numbers for poison control, urgent care and a pediatrician Soren, I assume, has seen in the past. Vilma has generously written down the address of the house along with where to find the keys for the fleet of vehicles out front.

In parenthesis she writes: (If you don’t have a car seat, there is one in the Jeep)

There is also a list of telephone numbers for Lars; dressing room, cell, car and studio.

Chapter 4
Well, okay then. I will say this about Vilma Gunnar; she is well organized as a new mother. My heart hurts for her being away from her son, hell my heart hurts for my own kids. But her specifics are really specific. Far be it for me to criticize but my kids never had a strict schedule; I guess that is the difference of having an actress for a mother versus an artist. My kids eat when they are hungry, play when they are bored and sleep when they fall asleep. This monotonous schedule is going to get old with me quick. I get to the bottom again and wonder about Lars “presumptive” son. I know nothing about Justus Gunnar and if he is famous, I don’t realize it. I watch television but not a lot of it and I don’t see movies. I get to watch a lot of Nickelodeon, Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network. Considering my insomnia, I should watch more TV; it’s just that my real life is entertaining enough.

I bathe and wash my hair; it feels so good to get clean. The towels on the rack are soft Egyptian cotton and they seem to seep with warmth as I wrap one around my hair and one around my body. I look up and see a large reddish orange light, a heat lamp radiating down on me. It’s like an incubator in here but I’m not ready to leave. I go over to the window and look through the wooden blinds. Down below is a small sandy walking path lined by reeds and stone retaining wall. Directly next door is an equally impressive residence and through the walls I swear I can hear the neighbors having a grand time. Deep voices cry out like cheering for sports and the shrill of an older female voice is apparent, scolding them for their boisterousness. It must be overly quiet in this house; I shouldn’t be able to hear inside the house next door.

“The attributes of your genetics will eventually make themselves known, but for now they are limited.” My Daddy had warned me about this. I can only hope that they remain at bay until I can see Cian again.

I release the blinds and turn to leave the bathroom. Inside my bedroom I dress and see that on the bedside table it‘s 4:00 am. I must have been in the bath for a while, although it didn’t seem that long. Oh well, three and a half hours before I get Soren up. I decide to go out to the giant back deck and take in the salt life of Wrightsville beach. And while this is enjoyable and wonderful, it doesn’t compare to Emerald Isle. In about four weeks the air will change and the water will illuminate with a green hue. For now I would enjoy the time I have in Wilmington, but the anticipatory urge I have to race to EI is palpable.

I ‘m looking out over the ocean which at this hour is as black as the sky itself when my attentions are diverted to a small group of young people bounding down to the water; four young men and one teenage girl. She is calling for them to wait for her. I watch as they draw up their wetsuits and sit on the sand. Their surfboards are lying at their feet. The girl finally catches up and reprimands them for not waiting. She draws up her suit and sits on the sand beside the tallest of the young men. He is teasing her and it’s obvious they’re siblings. I whip my head toward their screened in deck where an older woman is calling down to them. She sees me and waves, I absentmindedly return the gesture. She is carefully descending a long staircase down to the sand when another, shorter blonde woman follows suit. I assume these women are the mothers of the five surfer kids, and I’m right when I hear one of the boys call the taller brunette woman Mom. It’s strange; the taller children belong to the shorter mother and vice versa. The other three boys are of average height, aside from one who is moderately taller; they obviously belong to the brunette woman who is much taller than the blonde. The two women are pulling and prodding the five youths and I can relate to that. I smile inwardly. The blackness of the sky is converting and I realize that these kids, training in the start of the off season. What a life, what a talent to have.

I look into the house at the clock on the wall, 5:30 am. It seems as though time is slipping from me so fast and the anxiety of waking a child that I have never met is beginning to rear its head. I can only hope Lars has discussed me with his young son. Luckily I will get to meet and talk to Henley before Soren wakes. I’m honestly looking forward to talking to another staff member about the Gunnar family. Here comes the gossip queen again. I like the mantra of Clarice in Steel Magnolias, “If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, come sit by me.”

I reenter the house and I hear Mr. Gunnar, Lars shifting around, preparing to leave. I surprise the hell out of him when he strides through the hall into the great room. He exclaims something in another language.

“I’m sorry.” I say quietly.

He begins to laugh and takes a deep breath at the same time, “Oh, my dear. You scared me.” He is wearing the same thing we wore last night to greet me, white button up shirt tucked into blue jeans.

“I apologize; I wanted to be up when Henley arrived.” I subconsciously clasp my hands behind my back. “I was just taking in the view. I enjoy sunrise and sunset.”

“Of course; I apologize if the neighbors woke you. They are professional surfers…well the kids are. They live next door during the off season, they are nice people. Early risers though.” He says recovering from his shock, shifting about the house again. “I have to leave and my car is here. Good luck my dear.”

“Thank you, have a nice day.”

“Thank you.” His tone is like no one has ever said the phrase to him. He opens the door to leave and as he does he gets another shock, Henley, I assume, is standing with his hand up, ready to knock. “Oh, Henley, you and Babet are going to kill me today.” He says smiling.

“Sorry sir, it’s almost six and I wasn’t sure Miss Babet had arrived. You didn’t call me to let me know sir. I didn’t want you to be late or little Soren left alone.” Henley is a short but robust African American man and I can tell by his accent he is a native North Carolinian. His salt and pepper hair and freckled face make him seem grandfatherly. He catches my eyes and walks toward me, “Good Morning, my name is Henley. Miss Babet?” He says holding his hand out to me.

I take it and smile, “Yes sir, Henley I presume?”

“Yes ma’am.” He says proudly.

“Very nice to meet you.”

“I concur.”

“Goodbye you two.” Henley and I watch Lars walk out the door and after it’s closed Henley turns to me.

“Well, Miss Babet how was your drive up from the Big Easy?” He makes his way toward the kitchen, I follow.

I smile thinking of home, “Fine, I was later than I anticipated. Atlanta traffic…” He doesn’t let me finish.

“Oh yeah, been through that a time or two.” He says laughing. He is milling about the kitchen, pulling fruit from the refrigerator; a whole pineapple, mango, papaya and strawberries. He reaches into a small closet and retrieves an apron. It’s black and white pinstripe and as he ties the strings behind his back I sit at the granite counter. “What time did you get in?”

“I think it was around 11:30, but it was probably closer to 12:00.” I say watching his precise cutting.

“Wow, good thing the boss man had a nap earlier in the day.” He shakes his head smiling and there is something I don’t know. I search him inquisitively and he sees this, “Don’t get me wrong, he is a great father, but he is very busy. Poor little man…” He trails off. “I watched Soren while boss man slept.”

I begin to sympathize, but not for Lars, for Soren. Little boys need and love their fathers, the crucial bonding time between a father and son is short. I start to feel inadequate at my own son’s lack of father. At least he has my Daddy as a father figure for the time being. I remember the short time Cian spent with Henri and how well they got along. In a perfect world, Cian would be Henri’s father figure.

“That was nice of you.” I say as he offers me a freshly washed strawberry. “Thank you.” I bite into the dark red sweetness. Oh my, this strawberry is bursting through my taste buds like electricity. I close my eyes and savor its deliciousness. I don’t linger but it’s such an exquisite taste, I’m amazed and can’t help but comment, “Mmm, that is a good strawberry.”

“Child, that is a Henley strawberry!” He says loud and proud.

“You grew these?!” I exclaim and I can already tell Henley and I will be good friends.

“Yes ma’am, taught by my grandmamma. She was the Strawberry Queen.” He begins cutting the pineapple, “This one, I bought.” He says laughing which makes me laugh.

I glance at the clock, it’s 6:30. I have an hour before Soren is to be woken up. I lean in my seat and reach into my back pocket where I tucked the “Schedule”. I unfold it and lay it before Henley and the audience of fruit.

“Ah yes, the List.” He says ominously humorous.

“Yeah,” I say, “This is…um, detailed.” My tone is polite but I know Henley is reading me correctly.

“Detailed, good word Miss Babet.”

“Babe.” I say.

“Pardon?”

“You can call me Babe.” I say shoving another strawberry in my mouth, wincing at its bouquet of flavor.

“Babe?”

“Yeah, all my friends call me Babe.”

He turns his mouth down as if to think it over, “Babe. All right.”

I smile at him before popping another strawberry. I look back down at the “Schedule” and trail my finger down to the bottom where it says, “Justus arrives on Friday afternoon”.

“Do you know Justus, Henley?” I ask.

Henley is eyeing me speculatively, “Miss…Babe, you watch out for that one. He’s a cad…a womanizer. Why do you think Mr. Lars had you come all the way from New Orleans to keep little Soren? No agency in Wilmington will work with Mr. Gunnar because of Justus. He’s the definition of Casanova.” Henley winks at me as if to say, “Remember it.”

I smile back at him, “He can try, and it might be pretty entertaining to watch him do so.”

He’s watching me as if I don’t have a clue, “Okay Miss Babe, just be careful of that wolf. He will try, oh boy will he try.” His tone is quiet. I know he is talking to me but it’s almost as if he is telling himself.

I leave Henley to do what he does in his kitchen sanctuary and ascend the grand staircase. I slowly and quietly walk down the hall to Soren’s room. I turn the knob and then push the door open. To my surprise Soren is up and playing with a pair of trucks on the floor of his room. His flat screen television is on Nick Jr. already, this is violation of the “schedule” and I love it.

I smile when the boy meets my eyes, “Hi Soren,” my tone is sweet and motherly as if I were talking to Henri, “My name is Babet, but I want you to call me Babe; okay?”

He nods, “Babe.” And he has a slight accent as well. It’s so cute coming from someone so young.

“Yes, are you hungry? Henley is making your breakfast.”

“Yes.” He says getting to his feet. He teeters out the door and down the hall. He stops at the top of the steps and waits for me with his hand out. I take his hand and he proceeds to count down the steps.

“One, Two, Free, Fo…” He says until we reach the bottom at, “Fo-teen.” He jumps from the bottom step down to the floor. “Big Jump” He says looking up at me.

“Big Jump.” I retort.

He runs to the kitchen and says, “Hi Henny.” Soren climbs into the closest chair at a medium sized breakfast table.

“Hey Soren!” Henley draws out the “Hey”. “I got your breakfast right here little man.” Henley brings Soren a plate with two egg whites and a lovely display of fresh fruit.

“Tan ku.” Soren says before diving into the fruit.

“Eat your eggs too now.” Henley says like a no nonsense grandfather but Soren keeps eating the fruit. “Two more bites of fruit, then eggs; okay?”

“Okay.” Soren does as he is told and I get the feeling, he and Henley spend a lot of time together.

Henley offers me a plate of fruit also, “Would you like eggs Miss Babe?”

“No. Thank you, Henley. The fruit is wonderful.” I say and he smiles politely.

Soren and I eat together and once he is finally finished with his eggs we head into the great room to watch Learning Television. I turn it on, but Soren prefers to play with his number and letter puzzles. Occasionally he calls out the answer to a question the television is asking him, but he doesn’t face the TV. I take the opportunity and call home. It’s just after 9:00 am and I can at least check in with my Mamma, now and Scarlet, later on my break. I dial and Mamma picks up instantly.

“Babe!” She sounds great, joyous even.

“Hey Mamma, how are things going?”

“Great, great. Your Daddy was worried when we didn’t hear from you last night.” She says her tone a borderline scold.

“I know; I’m sorry. I didn’t get in until midnight and then I had to unload my car, blah blah blah. Who cares about that, how’s my little man?” I say and Soren looks up at me smiling. I have to remember Henley calls him that.

“He’s great, he’s right here…Henri, talk to Mamma?” I hear a cheerful reply in the background.

“Mamma!” Henri’s voices rings like a beautiful chime and I start to tear up.

“Hi Baby! Are you being a good boy for Nana?” I ask through a crack in my throat.

“No!” He says sweetly.

“No?!” I reply.

“Yes. Love Nana.” He says and the bauble of warm liquid falls down my cheek.

I wipe it away before Soren looks up again, “Aw, Love love Nana.” I say to Henri, “Let me talk to Nana, I love you Henri.”

“Love Mamma.”

“Hey.”

“Hey. So how is it?” Mamma asks, “Is the house huge?”

“You know it is, Mr. Gunnar is very nice. They have a personal chef named Henley, he’s also nice. How is Scar?” I ask since my Mamma has yet to divulge anything yet.

“Oh she’s great, you know honey. She misses you but she seems to be doing just fine.”

“Thanks Mamma, tell Daddy I will call when the sun goes down.” The last bit I keep quieter than the prior.

“Will do, have fun okay sweetie?”

“I will Mamma, I will. I love ya’ll.”

“We love you, talk to you later honey.”

“Bye.” I say and hang up my phone. Soren is still playing quietly, glancing up at the television every so often.

Before long it’s time for Soren’s snack and playtime. Henley peeks around the corner and calls the little boy into the kitchen. I follow as he takes his place again at the table. Henley delivers a plate with celery sticks and hazelnut spread, an orange in the shape of a sun and a cup of milk. On the side Henley gives Soren a dish of wheat crackers. The little boy eats quietly while I watch. Henley asks if I want anything and I tell him a cup f coffee would be epic. He prepares the pot and soon I smell the aroma of French roast coffee. Sitting across from Soren I ask him what he would like to do today.

“Beach.” He says with a mouth full of celery.

“Sure, we can go down to the beach. Do you swim?” I ask.

“No.” He says and I look up at Henley.

“Okay, do you like to build sand castles?” His little eyes light up, he stops chewing and nods his head aggressively. “That’s great; because I am the best sandcastle architect this side of the Mississippi.” I say proudly sitting up straight in my chair. I look back up at Henley, “Do they have shovels and such?”

“Yeah, down in the garage is a whole slew of stuff to build sandcastles.” Henley is smiling at Soren.

“Okay Soren, you finish your snack while I go get the supplies.” I push myself up from the table and head toward the foyer when I realize I don’t know how to get down to the basement. I turn back to face Henley who points at what looks like a closet door. I nod and wink.



http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...

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Babet has arrived, WELCOME TO WILMINGTON!!!

In Wilmington I stop at an upscale gas station and grab my bag from the back. To meet the Gunnar family I have packed one of my sundresses and a newer pair of flip flops. I pair the white sundress with a black sweater since the spaghetti straps are less than conservative. In the mirror I finger my tresses and add a little bit of eye-liner and mascara. My Mamma says without makeup I look like, “Death warmed over.” She’s right and it’s worse since I’ve been in the car for the entire day. I take a deep breath; gather my jeans and t-shirt and head back to my car.

My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.

I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.

“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.

“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.

“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.

“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.

“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”

“Of course.”

Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.

The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.

“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”

We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.

“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.

I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.

“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.

“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.

“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.

We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”

I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.

“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”

“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”

“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”

“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.

“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”

“Ah.” I simply retort.

“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”

“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.

I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”

I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.

“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”

He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”

Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.

“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.

I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.

He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.

“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.

He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.

I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”

He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.

My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.

I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.

The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!

I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.

This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.

I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.

My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.

I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.



http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...

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Augusta Fern

Chapter 2: Packed and Ready to Go?

The seven mile ride from the Quarter to the house is a short one. I park around back and enter the house through the kitchen. I sling my bag and throw my keys on the counter, making a b-line for the stainless steel refrigerator. I pull the handle and take out a bottle of chilled sake. As I reach into the cabinet and grab a shot glass; Scarlet saunters in. Her matching owl pajamas look to be too small but I dare not say a word. She loves them.

“Hey Mom.” She says sitting at the chopping block bar.

“Hey baby girl!” I exclaim, “You get all your homework done?” I ask.

“Of course, Pa helped me with my math.” She says smiling.

“He’s good at it, excellent choice.”

“Having some sake?” She asks.

“Yeah. Pa wants me to go au pair for his friend in North Carolina. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Okay?” She seems confused. “Why do you want to talk to me about it?”

“Because I am your mother and you are my daughter and as usual I like to have a clear line of communication with you.” I explain and take my first shot of ice cold sake. Its hints of plum linger in the back of my throat.

“Well…I think you should go.” She says and her tone of voice these days is less teenager, but more, young woman. An aspect she gained while dealing with vampire family business.

“Do you, now?” I say smiling, pouring another shot.

“I do. You…we, have been through so much but you haven’t taken the time to get away, get closure. And you don’t sleep, don’t think I don’t know.”

“Closure?” I had no idea my daughter knew what closure meant.

“Yeah.”

“You know Scar, since March you have really blossomed as a young woman…” I trail off.

“…But?” She asks.

“But, I hate that this all came about because of the bull shit we went through.”

“I don’t mind.” She says and I detect so much happiness from her now. She is no longer the sulky teenager we all knew so well.

I pour another shot down my gullet before saying, “Well I guess we have to get used to it. Right?”

“Right.” She says matter-of-factly.

“So, closure?” I say cocking an eye at my daughter.

“Yeah.” She says smiling.

“How do you obtain yours, if you don’t mind me asking?” I ask; which is unfortunate I have to ask my child how she has gained closure when her mother can’t…or won’t.

“Nana and I bake and while we bake, we talk.” She says, lifting herself from the barstool to get her own beverage; cherry lemonade. I watch her take a glass from the cabinet and the pitcher from the fridge, she stands a little straighter and commands her own presence. I can’t help but smile at my baby girl as she sits back down.

“What?” She asks speculatively.

I take a shot of sake, “Not a thing; I love you, is all.” I wink at her.

“Hey girls!” My Daddy walks into the kitchen and places a blood stained Scotch glass by the sink.

Scarlet finishes her lemonade before hopping off her bar stool to hug my Daddy, “Goodnight Pa, I love you.” She moves toward me and hugs me tight before whispering, “I love you Mamma.” She kisses me on the cheek and walks out to the hall.

Daddy and I watch, once she is out of sight he turns to me and smiles, “She’s a good girl Babe.”

“I know Daddy. She’s much happier here.”

“I concur, I’m happier here too.” He slides onto the stool Scarlet previously occupied. I pour and take another shot of sake.

Daddy pulls out a folded piece of paper from his dress shirt pocket, “Here is the address in Wilmington. His name is Lars Gunnar, he has a two year old son named Soren; the mother, Vilma is still in Sweden working on her own projects so he is in need of twenty four hour child care. He will be in town until Halloween, with two weeks off for personal time. He says you may do as you please during that time, but he does want you to paint his two sons while you are there.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. When do I need to leave?” I ask shooting another glass full.

Daddy watches as I do this and smirks when I place the glass on the granite, “You sure you’re okay with all of this.”

“Of course Daddy, why?”

“You are drinking an awful lot.”

“Daddy, I’m 32. I can handle it.”

He takes a deep breath, “Okay, well he gets in town August 15th. He would like for you to arrive after.”

I nearly choke on my sake, “That is in two days Daddy! It takes at least fourteen hours to drive from here to North Carolina.”

“Who said you were driving?” He asks.

“Uh…I do.” I retort authoritatively.

“I would prefer you fly into Wilmington, but I understand wanting familiarity while you are there.” He relents sliding the paper over the counter to me.

“And I love my car.” I say smiling, picking it up.

“I’m just thankful you have one of the safest cars on the market. Don’t think I don’t know how you drive, baby girl.” He taps my nose with his finger, it make me close one eye.

He leans over to kiss my forehead before standing to leave, “I have to get back in there but I know you can handle this.” He brushes the loose hair behind my ear.

“I know Daddy, I love you.” I say with a smile but I know the “this” he refers to is loaded, open-ended and perpetually cryptic.

My bottle is almost empty and my vision slightly blurred as I look over the information given to me by my Daddy; Mr. Lars Gunnar and his two year old son, Soren. Artistic opportunity aside, nearly two months in Wilmington, NC will be a change for sure. But it’s not Wilmington I’m looking forward to; it’s the down time I will get to head up to Emerald Isle. I take a deep breath and make my way down the hall and up the grand staircase. My bedroom is an artistic mess and I know before I leave, my Mamma will want me to clean it. No time like the present to do so. I move the easels off the tarp and put all my tubes in a clear plastic tub. I dip down and begin to roll the paint splattered material under foot. I fold it into a much smaller square and place it on the floor in hopes of remembering to wash it before I go. My brushes, charcoal and pastels I organize in a different tub along with my thinners and rags which I put inside a sealable plastic bag.

Once all my supplies are cleaned and organized for travel I turn to see my bedroom looks again like it should. The four poster bed I had as a child has been replaced by a grand sleigh bed with matching accoutrements of furniture. The walls are still encased in its original wall paper, large rose print in a multitude of colors; pink, red, crimson and green leaves surround the vaulted space. I know I won’t sleep so I begin to pack my bags for the next two months.

I pack almost all my t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and a couple of sundresses. Standard beach attire, flip flops of course…are already on my feet. I grab socks, panties and two pair of yoga pants along with my black two piece bikini; tennis shoes and the black stilettos Estella gave me. Scarlet has worn her Estella wardrobe to its fullest potential but I can’t bring myself to walk around the house or go to work in dress slacks and jackets. But I do grab the black dress from Molly’s party, just in case. I don’t know what capacity I would need the dress, but as Mamma always says, “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

I zip up the black duffel bag of clothes before I pack my art supplies away. I’ll have to buy canvas once I arrive but I can take my clear plastic tubs as long as they fit in my back seat; considering the lack of space since I’m taking Henri’s car seat for my use in NC. A light bulb goes off and I pad into my bathroom; talk about a blast from the past. It’s similar to my old bathroom in the studio. Seafarer Blue with white tiles; single pedestal sink and a pull chain toilet. My Daddy had shelves put up for all my lotions and potions. I glance at myself in the mirror before retrieving my toothbrush out of the antique medicine cabinet. My green eyes are blood shot from lack of sleep and drinking didn’t help. But I love my hair, taking the tresses between my fingers. I pull them and release them as the bounce from my crown resets. The ends are razor thin causing them to flip slightly. Frankie is a fucking hair genius.

I secure my electronic toothbrush with other personal hygiene items in my toiletry bag and shove the little pouch into the black duffel. I bend over to collect the tarp and head downstairs; stopping to check on Henri before I do. My little man is fast asleep in his big boy bed. I can’t help but hover over him watching his chest rise and fall. I will miss his big beautiful blue eyes and long lashes like his Daddy. Henri’s blonde hair is bone straight and hanging over his eyes while he sleeps; he coos lightly as he turns over. I cover him with his blanket and back out of his room.

I pull Henri’s door ajar and re-secure the tarp in my arms. Down the grand staircase I can hear multiple voices. I discern Estella and Daddy before I hear Alistair’s cockney tone sing through. I don’t know what they are discussing and I really don’t care. I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to go back to the kitchen; beyond it is the laundry or mud room. Lucky for me Mamma has already treated and washed my other tarp.

I switch the two and make my way back to my room. I’m caught mid step by Estella, “Babet! Hey honey!!” My Daddy’s ex and Mamma’s aunt grabs me in a bear hug.

“Hey Estella, how are you?” I ask as I gaze upon her incredible beauty.

“I’m great, you know your Daddy is really revolutionizing the city, vamps are happy and healthy…” She trails off, “but I heard you’re going on vacation?”

I snicker, scoff and roll my eyes, “Yeah a working vacation, but I will get a little time off while I’m there.”

“Yeah?” She asks smiling devilishly, “And Cian?”

Again, the sound of his name sparks something in me and I know Estella can see it. She is smiling her brightest gleaming smile. I can’t help but mirror her embarrassingly.

“Yeah…Cian.” In my mouth warm waters pour from my salivary glands; like I can taste him.

“Estella!” My Daddy calls from the billiards room; Estella jerks her head in that direction.

“Bye honey,” She says kissing my cheeks. “Have fun!”

I watch her as she closes the billiards room door behind her. I turn on heel and pad upstairs. Once I am safely in my room I text Frankie, “Leaving in the am.”

I don’t get the chance to put my cell down before Frankie’s instant reply, “Be careful, have fun, we love you.”

I smile at the glowing screen; I have the best friends on the entire planet. I return her sentiments, “Luvies.”

Its 5:30 am, Scarlet is getting ready for school, and Henri is still asleep the following morning as I watch the sun come up. I bring down my bags and art tubs, pack my car to leave, and kiss my son before I do. I said good-bye to my Daddy before he went into day-stasis and hug my Mamma who is waiting for my departure in her robe on the vast porch. Scarlet descends the few steps to jump into my car, but stops to kiss Mamma good bye for the day. I’m going to miss my own talks with “Nana”.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I arrive home late from work, having had a couple of beers with Frankie after closing. The house is dark aside from the light pouring from the kitchen windows. I take a deep breath and park my car; Mamma is waiting up for me. I creep through the door and close it behind me. The mud room has laundry overflowing, blocking the door from opening completely. I crest the threshold of the kitchen to see Mamma in her day’s attire; white button up dress shirt, open to reveal the black and red baubles around her neck. She has her legs crossed under the table, tapping her fabulous black heel on the table’s leg. She looks up, startled by my standing there, “Babe! Lord, honey! I know you can’t help it, but I hate when you sneak around here!” She laughs off her scolding.
“I’m sorry Mamma, but like you said, “I can’t help it.”” I say putting my bag and keys on the long country style kitchen table. I smile at her to soften my retort, but sometimes she just says the wrong things to me.
Mamma stands and gathers her chardonnay glass, she replaces it to embrace me, “How was your day sweetie, you’re home a little late?” She pets my hair. She hates it short.
“I should say the same for you, usually by this time you’ve settled for the evening.” I sit at the table while she turns to pour herself another glass of wine.
“You want a glass honey?” She holds the bottle out, it’s nearly empty.
“No, but you can bring me the open bottle of sake in the fridge.” I suggest. She begins to saunter over, “a shot glass too please?”
She turns back to collect the one I used last night, one of two I bought as souvenirs from Graceland. This one has a picture of Elvis in a cable stitched sweater etched into the glass. He’s was so handsome. I reach out to take the bottle and glass from Mamma. She places her goblet down to adjust her black and white hounds tooth pencil skirt before gracefully sitting.
“So?” She says before taking a swig from her glass.
“So, what?”
“Why are you home so late?” Her tone is irritably sweet.
“I went with Frankie to have a couple of beers. Marcus just invested in a cider brewery and we went to check it out. Since I don’t like cider I had a couple of beers.”
“I’m glad you were with Frankie.”
I shake my head slightly, “What does that mean Mamma?”
“Nothing darlin’, I just hate to think of you drinking alone.” She says holding up her glass of wine to indicate she is doing just that.
“Oh, Mamma…I’m sorry, are you okay?” I ask, not considering her current state of mind.
“Of course, sugar! It’s nothing.” She waves off the notion of life’s imperfections.
I reach across the table for her free hand, the one not spinning her glass on the table top and squeeze it, “Mamma, you can talk to me, you know that.”
“Oh, I know.” She turns her hand over to squeeze mine back, “I’ve just been having a bit of trouble coping with losing my position here.” She says, interpreting to me that she misses the inquiring crowds brought in by the family home being a museum. “I’m glad your father is back, don’t misinterpret me. I missed him more than I can ever express, but his re-entry to our lives has been just as jarring for me as it has been for you and the kids.”
“I can’t imagine Mamma. I mean, all I remember is what you told me as a child and hearing your whimpers at night.”
“You heard that?” She asks, but it’s not a question, “Of course you heard it…Oh Babet…I…”
“Mamma, it’s okay.” I squeeze her hand again. “When he had to leave, you said he would return and you were right, regardless of the time; you were right.” I smile; she meets my eyes and smiles in return.
“I know you and Daddy have made your peace and I’m glad but I want you to know that letting him go wasn’t easy for me and I still harbor some resentment because of it, because of him and who he is, what he is.”
“Talk to me Mamma, I can’t or won’t ever know unless you tell me.” I plead, longing for this conversation with her. My mother; the conservative southern belle.
She takes a deep breath, “Before I start,” she jumps up to pour the remaining liquid into her glass, her heels click across the floor as she hustles back, “Well, as you know you were ten when his contacts informed him of her…”, my mother refuses to say her name out loud, “shenanigans in Europe. He let it go for a couple of months, but when Linde called and reported the death of his brother, your father had to step in. That girl had gotten way too big for her britches and this is before she came back to the city…” My mother takes a long sip of wine, “So he left, after more than a few heated arguments between us. I, of course used you to get him to stay; deserting his only daughter, his only child. It was desperate I admit, but what choice did I have? He was my world, my everything; I couldn’t just let him go. I know you thought it was about status Babe, I know you judged me at first. You had to, considering what we went through. But it was more, I was alone without him. Even though I had you, who looked like me, but acted like him and knowing what he was and what you might do or might be, frightened me without him.”
I don’t want to interrupt but the thought of never hearing from him over the years bothered me, “Did he never call?” I ask quietly.
Her gaze turns sad, “Yes, Babe. He called over the years.”
I pour and take a shot, followed by another, “Why, Mamma? Why didn’t I talk to him?”
“At first you did. But the calls became few and far between, eventually you weren’t here to take his calls.”
I shake my head, “I’m sorry Mamma.”
“Honey, it’s okay. You had no control over who you are or where you come from. We, with some help, brought you into this world, not knowing, not fully understanding the possibilities or repercussions of such an act. It was something we committed to together, like we did when we married. When he left I was devastated, thinking of everything I went through, we went through,” She corrects herself but I understand where she’s coming from. Having children, literally giving birth is no laughing matter and as a woman our bodies go through a series of torturous changes to bring forth human life. For those women who have done it over and over successfully, more power to you. I’m not the one, I’m happy with my healthy two. But for my mother it was a series of heartbreak and ache over loss after loss. Nine times; each time being excited and hopeful that this time, will be the time. “Long story short, being without your Daddy, raising a half vampire child was rather difficult.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing the long version, what I know is so minimal. What was my birth like?”
“Your birth was as normal as any after we “kept you in”.” She says using the air quotes. It’s nice to see her so nonchalant about it all right now, “It was the keeping you in that was so traumatic. Just like all the others.”
“Nine.” I state.
“Nine.” She mirrors, looking up at the ceiling.
“You said raising me was difficult without Daddy, where you scared of me Mamma?” I ask, peering up from the sake bottle label.
“Honey, why do you think I left well enough alone most of the time? Scared? Terrified, is more the term. We found our way though, right?”
“Yes, I found something to help us with it.” I say smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“Don’t I know it? Do you know how scared I was of how you obtained that stuff?” She shakes her head at me smiling. “Now we may be faced with the ultimatum of what you could be capable of, should you choose a life with Cian. I suppose you’ve discussed that with Daddy too.”
“Yes. That is if I ever see Cian again.” The sulkiness of my voice is audible.
“Oh, you’ll see him again. He can’t stay away. Neither can you, the blood won’t let you stay apart.” She states. This, among many other things my Daddy and I discussed regarding the bonds of blood.
“Daddy says there is no way to live with Cian without truly living as he does; as they do. I’m scared Mamma.” I say and my Mamma snaps her head up to meet my frightened eyes.
She squeezes my hand, “You wouldn’t be slightly human if you weren’t a little scared baby girl.” We both laugh at the joke. “But, know this Babet; as a human you are a wonderful person and devoted, loving mother. And I’m proud of you and what you have already become.”
“Thank you Mamma; that means more to me than I can express.” We share a moment that had long been lost to us. “Speaking of kids; how was Henri today?”
“An angel, I swear Babe that boy is so smart it’s insane. I took him to the park, at every stop sign he told me to stop, called out the letters, and said it was a red octagon!” She boasts.
I laugh, “He’s a bright bulb alright. So perceptive.”
“Exactly the word I was looking for, perceptive.” She agrees. “We also went by the condo after picking Scarlet up from school.”
“Oh yeah, I meant to ask you if the new tenants were working out?”
“Well, I didn’t want to sell it, so I had to generate the income for it somewhere. Your Daddy said he would take care of it, I know what that means, and so I had to rent it. They’re okay, I hate anyone but me living there, but it is what it is.”
“Take care of it? What did he mean by that?” I ask not understanding.
“He would sell it. There is no reason to have it, when we have all this.” The last few words she enunciates like royalty waving her arms around. “I tried explaining to him what his leaving meant, why I had to do what I did where the house was concerned, he wouldn’t hear it.” She sulks in her chair and it’s clear to me she’s had enough chardonnay.
“Mamma?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you happy?” I ask.
She bolts up in her chair, “Of course baby! See I knew you would interpret this incorrectly…and why shouldn’t you? All I’ve done is bitch and babble.” She quickly covers her mouth with wide eyes.
“Mamma!” I gasp, my Mamma doesn’t curse. I laugh heartily causing her to follow suit. Before long we are in complete stitches causing my Daddy to come into the kitchen and our heart-to-heart to end.
“Hey, hey that’s what I like to hear from my girls, laugher!” He saunters over to Mamma, clasping her head in his hands; he tilts it back to plant a kiss on her nose. She reaches up to grasp his hands, kissing each of his palms.
Daddy rests his hands on Mamma’s shoulders. I take a moment to look at my parents; together. It’s a strange sight to my aged eyes, in my younger years they were the same age or seemed to be the same age now my father remains as my mother has aged. The epiphany hits me; it’s not his return or what I may be, it’s not the loss of the tourists. It’s the way she looks; she’s older as he is exactly as he was when she met him, when he seemed to be the older partner. Besides the obvious concerns for me, this is a major one for her, blindly reiterated to me. Is she remorseful for refusing his offer to turn her, make her like him? When did he make the offer? Before me, after me?
I’m pulled from the swirling questions, “Babe?” My Daddy asks.
“Yeah?” I snap to.
“I think Mamma needs to go upstairs.” He suggests.
“Yes Daddy.” I say as I notice Mamma has fallen asleep at the table. I help her up and receive a kiss from my Daddy. Once I have her up the grand staircase and in her room I drop her on the giant ottoman center of the room, “Okay, you’re good.”
Mamma sits up, perfectly sober, and crosses her legs to continue our conversation, “You could have let me down more gently!”
__________________________________________________________________________________
I smile at the memory before I blow my Mamma a kiss and mouth the words “I Love You” at her, she mirrors me before clutching her robe to her chest.
“I’ll pick you up after school Scar!” My Mamma calls to her.

“Okay, Nana!” Scarlet yells before hopping in.

I’m adjusting my shuffle player for the trip; Tool, Deftones, A Perfect Circle and Korn. I also program Incubus, Queen’s of the Stone Age, H.I.M. and Ministry. Dropkick Murphy’s, KMFDM, NOFX and Fugazi. My player holds so much music and I’m an equal opportunity music listener. For downtime I have Bjork, Blind Melon, The Bravery and Gorillas. I also like a multitude of rap and R & B; I’m blessed with Dr. Dre, Ememim, Snoop and Xhibit; I also enjoy local/New Orleans native Lil Wayne; Drake and Two Chains. I dig Jay-Z, DMX, and TuPac as well as Jay Cole, Marvin Gaye, Luther Vandross. Honestly the list goes on and on; big band, do-whop and classical; Jazz and some old time Gospel. A favorite relatable quote I’ve forever etched on my memory, “Without music life has no soundtrack.”

“Did you program Black Veil Brides and Blood on the Dance Floor?” Scarlet says while fastening her seatbelt.

“Oh, man! I forgot. As soon as I get to a stop, I’ll download their albums. I just didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for this trip.” I say smiling at my daughter.

“Well, don’t forget, because they are beyond awesome.” She does the typical teenage hand gesture as if to say, “duh!”

I put the car in gear and head for the open road. First stop is Scarlet’s school and while she is exiting I text Teacup. “Early, I know. Swing thru?”

“Bye Mom, I love you. Be careful.” Her tone is stern, she knows my driving habits.

“I’ll call as soon as I can, I love you baby girl.” I call after her.

My cell chimes at me, “Yeah I’m still up.”

I put my cell in between my legs on the car seat and head toward the renovated warehouse district. Teacup is a Cuban welding artist who just so happens to live in Molly’s building. But on the side he slings a little bud now and then. Considering the journey I’m about to take, herbal refreshment would come in handy once I arrive. I don’t know if it was subconscious or not but I turn down the row of warehouses that had yet to be considered for renovation by the city.

Against my better judgment I pull my car around to his warehouse. It looks as it did the night of Molly’s party and after Mora’s death, and a FOR SALE sign with the word SOLD slapped across it is definitely different, but hardly unexpected. My Daddy has been at work again. I get out of my car and walk over to the only accessible door. I run my fingers over the sign and as my hand falls away from it I get the urge to turn the knob. I know it’s locked so I don’t make the attempt.

I get back into my car and slowly drive in the direction of Molly and Teacup’s building. I slow to almost a complete stop when I see the pile of rubble that was once the vampire club Morte’, had been cleared away. All that remained is a concrete slab with sporadic pipes jutting from it. I take a deep breath and release a heavy sigh closing my eyes. I don’t linger and take my foot off the brake.

I park on the side of Teacup’s unit; luckily it’s across the building from Molly’s. It’s not as if she isn’t aware of our friendship; most of the art community is friendly. I just can’t get into conversations right now; it’s bad enough I’m wasting time with Teacup. I need to get on the road. Fourteen hours, groan.

I reach Teacup’s door and knock lightly, the hallway echoes like crazy and most of these residents either just went to bed or are getting ready for bed. Oh to be a young artist again; the good old days. Since Cian left I have had the opportunity to experience a reflux of it, but instead of sleeping it off all day, I hardly sleep at all.

“Yeah.” I hear muffled through the door.

I turn the knob and push the door. Teacup’s decorating style is more masculine than Molly’s. Teacup doesn’t cover the industrial and mechanical aspects of the loft; he embraces it. His metal work hangs all around the vaulted space.

I put my keys on the butcher block and sit across from him, “Hey Teacup.”

“Hey Babe, what’s good?” He says, leaning back into his chair.

Teacup, whose real name is Tumelo Raul Renier; is anything but. Originally from Caldas Cuba he is a tall hulking man of thirty with milk chocolate skin and chestnut eyes. He laces his long fingers together waiting for my reply.

“I’m heading out of town for an extended period of time and could use some provisions.” My tone is humorous.

He laughs and rises from his chair, using all his energy to lift his frame from the low resting place. I watch him descend his staircase to return with an ornate sterling silver jewelry box the size of a shoe box. He places it gently on the metal coffee table between our chairs; opens it and removes a large bag of marijuana. I instantly smell the potency of the batch and I’m so glad I called Teacup when I did.

“How much you need?” He asks; his eyes fixed on mine.

“Can you spare an OZ?” I ask warily. It’s a lot to ask for on short notice but it doesn’t seem to faze him.

“I sling this to the others for $250.00 an O, but for you Babe; $200.00.” He says smiling.

The dollar amount is no sticker shock to me, I pull out the $500.00 cash I stuffed in my back pocket before leaving the house and hand $200.00 to Teacup, “Thanks T; I’ll bring you something back from my trip.”

“Where you going?” He asks taking my cash and depositing it into the beautiful box. He then dips below the table to retrieve his digital scales; weighs and bags my merchandise.

“Wilmington, North Carolina.” I say taking the bag from his giant hand.

“Wilmington, huh? Yeah, you ought to get away from this heat. Should be nice up there this time of year.” He stops to secure all the accoutrements, placing the box under the table. “Why you going up there?”

This is the conversation I didn’t want to get into so I keep it simple and I know Teacup will appreciate it, he looks like he could use a good night’s sleep, “Lucrative artistic opportunity.” I say and it’s partly true.

“I hear ya, get your money baby girl.” He says mid yawn.

“I appreciate you seeing me this early, but I got to hit the road and you clearly need to hit the bed.” I say laughing.

“Hell yeah I do, drinkin’ and welding all night is killing me…but I fucking love it.” He says stretching and it’s amazing how tall he is.

“All right.” I call at the door; keys and bag in hand.

“All right.” He says half way down the staircase.

I walk into the hallway and of course I have no where to put this giant smelly bag. I roll my eyes at myself but I don’t linger in the hall. Thankfully I don’t run into anyone in the hall, the elevator or the parking area. I’m secure in my car and quickly pull my art bag out from the back seat. I dump the supplies out of one of the sealable plastic bags inside and shove the package from Teacup in their place. I seal the bag and my car slowly looses the scent of fruity cannabis.

I take a deep breath and as I look down I realize I didn’t grab any coffee before I left the house. Coffee is essential if not mandatory to my survival. I backtrack to the heart of the French Quarter and thank the highest of higher powers that Café DuMonde stays open twenty four hours and parking this early in the Quarter is easy. I hop from my car and make a b-line to the green and white striped awning. As I order café au lait, black coffee and two orders of beignets; I swear I see a fairly recognizable celebrity reading a newspaper at a corner table. I turn back to the cashier smiling, couldn’t be…but then she does have a house here.

Since I will be missing the famousness of chicory infused coffee for the next two months I had to indulge. I take my change and shove it back in my pocket. In my car the smell of Teacup’s package had thankfully died down and the scent of fresh French pastry begins to permeate the air around me. Before long I am turning down Tulane Avenue. I merge onto the I-10 East and for the next 136 miles I speed and jam out to my favorite tunes. I recall Scarlet’s words about her band recommendations and make a mental note to download the two albums once I am in Montgomery.

The highway in Montgomery Alabama is relatively quiet and I know I ‘ve bypassed the early morning traffic. Score! My small victory falls away when I realize I still have to drive through Atlanta and by the time I get there it will be close to lunchtime, fuck. I pull off to stop for gas and a switch of music; taking Scarlet’s advice I find the albums, Wretched and Devine by Black Veil Brides and Blood on the Dancefloor’s Anthem of the Outcast. I merge onto Highway I-85 North toward Atlanta and I have to give my daughter credit for her musical tastes. I look down at the screen on my shuffler and see the five members of Black Veil Brides are literally a younger, hotter, and better sounding Kiss.

I fall into a groove while driving and I don’t realize when BVB switches to Blood on the Dancefloor until the song “Where is my Wonderland” begins to play. The melodic beginning is tempting which is only enhanced by the siren song in the background. The lyrics come in and I can see why my daughter loves this band. Relatable is an understatement in Scarlet’s case.

Finally in Atlanta and it’s everything I dreaded it to be. Bumper to bumper traffic at 12:30; groan. I have to say I haven’t been this way north in years and for me to remember the traffic in Atlanta is beyond awful is really saying something. It’s a beautiful city with a rich history, no doubt; but damn. For sure my fourteen hour drive just became a sixteen hour drive. I can’t dwell on it and I decide at that moment I won’t. I flow with traffic until merging onto I-20 East toward Augusta, Georgia. I don’t even notice driving through South Carolina; after Augusta I’m literally itching to cross into North Carolina. If I make it to Wilmington without a speeding ticket it will be a miracle. Highway I-20 East to 95 which takes me across that state line and I swear I can feel and smell the salt in the air already but I still have a hundred and thirty miles before I get into Downtown Wilmington. Though, I don’t think I have to go that way; the Gunnar’s temporary residence is on Wrightsville’s beachfront.



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Chapter ONE

Chapter 1

It’s August, and August in New Orleans is hotter than the bluest blazes of hell. It’s been six months. Six months since I last saw…a lot can happen in six months. The tattoo gun vibrates my hand as I work but my thoughts are on all that has transpired. Scarlet is back at school and thriving; utilizing her minimal gifts. Henri is talking a mile a minute; colors, shapes, letters and numbers. My little tape recorder. Mamma is all consumed with the children; which has been a bit of a blessing for me. Searching for a new place is never easy, though my parents are over the moon that we are living at the house.

Luckily I was able to talk Frankie into letting me buy into her Pardido location and set up my tattoo business. Certification was less than difficult and given my reputation in the city I was able to bypass the apprentice process. With a portion of the insurance money from the fire I was to not only able buy all my equipment but renovate a nook for myself and my clients inside the salon.

The most interesting event during this time is my Daddy’s debut back into society, human and vampire alike. Questions of course were brought up, but Daddy fabricated some non-sense about witness protection and plastic surgery for the humans. He needed no excuses for the vampires, his reputation preceding him. And how he got the city to relinquish the house is beyond me. The house is busy, but not with tourists; my Daddy’s vampire coven are in and out at all hours of the night. I know this because I’ve become a borderline insomniac since Cian left.

When I don’t sleep, which is often, I paint. Albeit manically and occasionally while crying incessantly. My old room is littered with canvases, paint tubes and brushes. Mamma made me cover the entire floor with a tarp so not to destroy the original hardwoods and Daddy takes each piece as soon as it’s complete. I take a picture of it and upload it to my tablet for future reference, but because of the fire and ALL my work going up in flames Daddy locks the finished pieces away in his fire proof vault room. So far I’ve painted and Daddy has locked away, eighteen portraits; most of the paintings are depictions of what happened that March night. I also painted Mamma and Daddy as they are now, along with portraits of Scarlet and Henri. The house grounds are the perfect backdrop.

On a personal level I had a friend permanently ink Mora’s final death on my left bicep. My tattoo shows human warrior goddess Collette, her spiked heels implanted in Mora’s clavicles, staking her from overhead. I embellished it a little. I get lots of comments on it, “Where did you come up with the idea?” They ask. Of course I cannot divulge such information, stating it came to me in a dream.

Another visible change is my hair, which shocks even me when I look in the mirror. I let Frankie talk me into an A-line razor bob. It looks great and I feel like a new person but I wonder what he will think when…if he sees me. I get a nauseous pinging in my stomach at this thought.

The good always comes with a little bad and the negativity of our new lives is small, but it’s relevant. Griffin’s mother attempted to blackmail my Daddy; claiming she knew he had something to do with her son’s death. She was so adamant that when she arrived at the house to discuss the situation she disowned Henri completely. If I was honest with myself I would say, Good Riddance. I know she didn’t like me when I married her only son; but she was always very harsh with regard to Scarlet. She showed her true colors and left with a check. The money wasn’t to keep her quiet; my Daddy didn’t care if she said anything to anyone, it was to keep her out of our lives.


My thought are interrupted by Calista LeBeau; my last client of the day,“Ooh!”

She and I attended high school together and she has always been one of the few girls I can consider a friend. She is a sprite of a girl. Petite and thin, she has shoulder length reddish brown hair almost the color of Dr. Pepper. I’m tattooing an intricate Celtic knot on her right forearm. She recently married into an Irish family and wanted to reflect her husband’s heritage.

“Sorry Calista,” I say hoping my hand didn’t get too heavy. I change the subject, “What is your new last name Mrs.?”

“Please, Babe. Tattoos hurt and I am officially Calista Keever.” She holds her head up pompously, then laughs as I continue.

“Keever; that’s a good, strong, Irish name. Congratulations; again.” I say smiling, keeping my eyes on her arm.

“Thanks!” I hear the elation of being a new bride in her voice.

Frankie rounds the corner of my little nook, “Hey; your Dad is on line four.”

“Thanks Frank.” I say as she turns to go back to her client. I look over to Calista who is admiring her new ink, “You mind if we take a break Calista?”

“Take your time Babe.”

“Thanks.” I remove my gloves, discarding them in the trashcan by my door.

I don’t keep a phone in my part of the salon, it’s too distracting ringing off the hook all day. But that’s success isn’t it and Frankie is successful.

Very successful, the shop is still loaded. Every chair is full even though the sun has gone down and the hair is flying. I get hit with the smell of ammonia and sulfur; color, perm, and cuts; highlight and lowlight, waxing, tanning, nails…and tattoo. It’s a lucrative business for sure.

Frankie hands me a cordless phone from her station, “Your Daddy calling here is going to take some getting used to.” She laughs, I reciprocate.

“Daddy?”

“Hey baby girl, how’s your day today?” My Daddy is so sweet but I can hear something behind it.

“Good, just finishing up for the day.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s in your chair at the moment?” My Daddy is so fascinated by my newest endeavor.

“Calista LeBeau, now Keever; she said to tell you welcome home.” I sound just as sweet waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“She’s such a nice girl, good family the LeBeau’s. Tell her Congratulations from your Mother and me.” He says and then he is silent.

“Daddy, you there?”

“Yeah…sorry I was taking paperwork from Alistair. Babe, I have an actor friend from Sweden who will be in Wilmington filming a movie…” he trails off again.

“Wilmington, North Carolina? Daddy?” I hear background voices and rustling papers.

“Yes, would you be interested in taking an au pair job for the next couple of months? I know its short notice but you can paint while you’re there and I know for a fact he is interested in having you paint his son’s portraits.”

I’m silent at first swirling everything together. I would have a lot of affairs to get in order before I go, if I go. I would need to discuss it with Frankie…and Scarlet.

My Daddy doesn’t let me answer, “I’ve discussed it with Frankie and she agrees you need some time away.”

My brow furrows as I begin to feel as if I’m being plotted against, “You talked to Frankie?” My tone is harsh.

“Babe, before you get upset, we all feel that, you threw yourself into work after everything in March. You received the insurance money and immediately talked to Frankie. You got certified and boom started. You don’t sleep, we all know you don’t. You need a vacation, honey.” His tone is pleading.

I can’t say no to my Daddy, “Of course Daddy, a working vacation.” I laugh.

“Think of it as a way to expand your new portfolio, besides you may get some time to go back to Emerald Isle, since those paintings are gone.”

I gasp and I know this is a hint if not a coax from my Daddy, “Thanks Daddy.” I say like I did when I was a little girl.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you.”

I hang up the phone and turn to see the entire salon staring at me. I feel flush as they all resume their previous tasks except Frankie who is waiting for me to tell her I will need some time off. She winks at me, I roll my eyes and a smile comes from the side of my mouth.

“Can we talk later?” I ask.

“Of course, darlin’!” She squeals before applying another foil.

The salon is finally closed and everyone but Frankie and I have gone. I’m cleaning my nook while she pours over the day’s numbers. I peek my head in her door after I’m done to discuss my “vacation” time.

“Hey.” I say sitting in one of two ultra modern chairs, my tone is wary.

“Hey.” Frankie says smiling.

“Okay, so what did my Daddy say to you?” I ask laying it all out on the table.

“He said he had an artistic opportunity for you and I agreed that you could use some time off. If not from the shop; the city.”

I nod my head silently.

“He said he could get a replacement, but I told him you wouldn’t like that. He understood.” Frankie is such a good friend and knows me so well. “I told him not to worry and I’m telling you the same. Babe, you need closure from it all. Griffin’s death, your studio and your Dad coming back. I swear girl, you are strong as steel. I would be in a straight jacket if it were me.”

Frankie exaggerates; she is one of the strongest women I know. Starting her business at such a young age and being a successful entrepreneur takes serious guts and Frankie has them for sure.

“Two months though?”

“Yes, but how long have you been trying to get back to North Carolina? Thirteen years?” Frankie eyes me speculatively.

“That’s true.”

“And Cian?”

Again the sound of his name brings butterflies to my stomach and my heart in my throat. I will never forget the conversation with Frankie and Molly about my Scottish friend.
_________________________________________________________________________________

My cell vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans as I walk through the grocery store and I know by the ringtone it’s Frankie. Queen’s of the Stone Age “Little Sister” plays until I press the talk button.

“Hey girly!” I say with exuberance because I know exactly where this is headed.

“Hey yourself, Babe.” Her tone is humorously inquisitive.

“What are you up to today?” I ask

“Nice try Babe, what is up with that gorgeous man you were with at Molly’s party?”

I laugh, “He’s just a friend.” A friend who has me irrevocably vexed. A wave of sexual tension rises when I remember our kiss.

“Mmhhmm.” She says and I hear the laughter coming. “A friend of Aunt Estella?”

“Yes.” I say pushing the cart mindlessly. Henri is pointing and trying to grab everything.

“Where are you right now?”

“The grocery store, why?”

“Come have lunch with me and Molly. Its 10:30 now, meet us at Gazebo Café at 12:00.”

“Okay, I have Henri though.”

“Aw, petite Henri!” She shrills.

“Ha, he’s not that small anymore. Listen, I will finish up here and head back to Estella’s to unload. I’ll see you girls in an hour and half.”

“Yay! Okay, Luvies!” Frankie sings.

“Luvies.” I mirror.

I get what we need for the week, pay and load my car. After securing Henri in his seat I drive back to Audubon. Henri at two is already a big helper, carrying the bread for me. I pile the bags on the granite counter and begin to unload the groceries. All the while I am checking the time, it’s nearly 11:15 and I definitely can’t go to lunch with the girls in jeans and a t-shirt. I scoop up Henri and head upstairs, he points at the cannon style bed and I oblige him after removing his shoes. He jumps up and down on it while I slip on a pair of crimson and cream damask shorts, boat neck long-sleeved shirt and flip flops. I gather my hair into a ponytail and grab Henri off the bed to make my way down the stairs.

Back in the car the clock reads 11:36. If I can make it to Gazebo before the girls, I can settle Henri with some French Fries and ranch dressing. Parking isn’t the easiest feat near the Square, but I get lucky. I hold Henri’s hand as we walk through the vendor tables, bending to him when he points to something. I explain what it is and he repeats. We luckily make it to the café before Molly and Frankie; I immediately order Henri’s fries.

“Fries!” He says, “My fries.”

“Yes, your fries. They have to cook.” I explain.

“Ooh Hot.” He says eyes wide, tensing his body.

I laugh; he’s so dang cute, “Yes they will be hot.” I say.

Henri looks over my shoulder while I pay; his little voice is so loud under the open air space. “MoMo! Fanky!” I feel like I just lost an eardrum.

Molly and Frankie come up and nuzzle Henri who squeals with delight. I take the tray of fries and ask for a dish of ranch dressing; Henri’s favorite. I don’t get three feet from the table before he is staking claim on the slivers of fried potatoes. “My fries.” He says taking one between his chubby digits. “Hot Mamma; blow.”

I blow on the fry; he smiles and aggressively puts it in his mouth. Frankie and Molly locate a table close to the small jazz band playing. I set Henri in a seat and take a fry for myself as the girls decide what to eat.

Frankie puts the tiny menu down, “So…spill Babe.” She says attracting Molly’s attention as well.

“Ooh yeah, who was he Babe? Frankie is convinced he’s playing for the proper team.” Molly says smiling.

I playfully avoid the inquisition by shifting in my chair to engage Molly, “Your hair looks so great! Did I tell you that last night?”

They both roll their eyes, before Frankie humorously demands, “Confess!” They are both staring and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Okay, okay. No, he’s not gay.” I relinquish, taking another one of Henri’s fries.

“See, I told you!” Frankie howls sitting back in her chair.

“I’m sorry ya’ll, I just…wanted to avoid this conversation last night. By the way Molly, it was a great party.”

“Thanks, I sold every piece.”

“That’s wonderful, congratulations!” I exclaim.

“Thanks.” She says adjusting her glasses.

“Uh uh, Babe. I want to know more about Cian.” Frankie says his name like it’s a sexual mantra.

I laugh, but every time I hear his name my body resonates with desire. I can’t hide anything from my girls and this is no different.

“Estella works late, so he and I are always hanging out. I asked him to your show, Molly, because he is a huge fan of your work.” I explain. Molly makes a “who knew?” face and picks up the menu.

“Aunt Estella? I’ve known you your whole life. Who is she?” Frankie asks.

I’ve got this. Anything regarding my father is a conversation killer amongst my friends, “She is my Daddy’s illegitimate sister.” I say sadly.

“Wow, really?” Molly exclaims.

“But, Babe. Isn’t it strange she shows up after Griffin…?” Frankie trails off.

“I thought that too, but after I talked to my Mamma, I felt better about her.”

“So, your Mamma knew?”

“Yeah. You know how families keep things like that under lock and key. Beauregard’s are no different.” I say nonchalantly

“Okay so that is Estella. Cian…he’s got this air about him, a strange aura. Do you pick that up Babe?” Frankie asks.

Molly chimes in, “Yeah and he didn’t take his eyes off you all night, like he was your bodyguard or something…” she trails off but I can see her gearing up.

I hold my hand up to stop her rendition of the famous song from the famous movie, “Don’t.”

“Aw, come on,” Molly is playfully disappointed; “I do a great Dolly Parton.” She folds her arms across her chest.

Frankie takes a fry from Henri who smiles at her as she does so, she then corroborates Molly’s observations, “Yeah, when you and Braxton were talking it looked as though he was going to have a coronary.” She finishes chewing.

“What do you mean by strange aura?”

“Well, I saw how he was watching you and I grabbed his arm. It was cold, like unnaturally cold.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.” I lie. “You grabbed him?” I ask humorously.

“Sure did, he didn’t seem to like it either.” She stops to gaze at Henri, “We are just concerned for you is all Babe. We love you.”

“I love ya’ll, please don’t be worried about me.” I say and I hope that this conversation is over.

It is, Frankie reaches over and snatches the menu from Molly’s hands. Henri sees this; Molly sees Henri her eyes widen and opens her mouth as if what Frankie did was a surprise. They both laugh.

________________________________________________________________________________

Frankie is still watching me closely. After eventually explaining EVERYTHING to her and Molly about Cian, Estella and my Daddy my girls were more concerned for me than when they met Cian. Eventually after many glasses of wine, they came to understand and all was copasetic.

“My Daddy hinted at going back to Emerald Isle. I think Cian may be there, of course I will know for sure once I cross that state line.” I say rolling my eyes.

Frankie is smiling, “I’m glad you are going through with the test. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell us in the beginning?”

“Frank, you know I couldn’t, mostly because I really didn’t grasp it all myself. Where I really come from? Who I may be and what I might be capable of? If I had said something and you or Molly were hurt or killed because of me, I don’t know...” I begin to tear up.

“Oh, my Lord, Babe I didn’t mean to upset you!” She says chastising herself.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, “No, it’s not you. I’m sorry, I guess that proves you all right; I do need to…” I trail off, shake that and resume with a smile, “But as far as seeing him again I too think it will strengthen us.” I say shrugging.

“It’s all so crazy.” Frankie is shaking her head and smiling.

“Crazy is the understatement of the century.” We both laugh.

Frankie sets the alarm as we walk out of the salon. On the way to our reserved parking Frankie says, “So when do you leave?”

I unlock my car and throw my bag in the passenger side, “You know, he didn’t mention that.”

“Well, call me later when you find out.”

“Will do, be careful!” I holler while getting into my car.

Babet's Epiphany

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IT BEGINS NOW - BABET'S EPIPHANY!!!

Prologue:
Pierre and Babet – Babet POV:

It’s so late when we arrive home after the fray. Ah, home. The Beauregard family home and with no tourists it really truly is my home. The door echoes through the main hall as it closes behind us. I watch Mamma pickup her ball gown as she takes Henri upstairs, Scarlet on her kitten heels when I hear Daddy call.

“Babe, can I have a minute before you go to bed?” Daddy hasn’t changed a bit and I have missed him more than any little girl could miss her Daddy.

“Sure, I won’t be able to sleep anyway.” I say rubbing my hand across my forehead.

He stands watching my gestures, “You are so much like your mother baby girl.”

I smile and sit on the brown leather chairs in the billiards room, my Daddy loves this room. He slides behind the bar, dipping below it. He straightens after retrieves a bag of blood. The pops the top and proceeds to empty a quarter of it into a Scotch glass.

He looks up at me as he puts the Chrystal to his lips, “You don’t mind do you honey?”

I smile at my Daddy; handsome in his tuxedo, “Not at all.” The man who seemed so big and tall when I was a child is my same height and I have to outweigh him by ten pounds. I understand his bestowed nicknames now.

He takes a sip and rounds the bar to sit in the chair opposite of me. He doesn’t speak for the longest time, simply staring at me. I allow it; I enjoy taking him in as well.

He lowers the glass from his lips a second time and I watch the almost black liquid slip back down the etched Chrystal. He takes a deep breath, “How did you feel the first time you met Cian?” He asks narrowing his brow.

I have to feign embarrassment; but I slightly smile and roll my eyes like I would have, had he been here for my teen years. “Daddy!” I say tugging my hair behind my ears.

“I’m serious.” He says but the gleaming teeth shining back at me tells me he’s just as squirmy about this subject as I am.

I straighten in my seat, bringing my legs up to cross them under me. I take a deep breath and begin, “Well…I…”

“It’s okay baby girl.”

“Pure elation; like nothing I have ever felt, not even when I met Griffin.” My father is nodding in agreement until I say my late husband’s name, my father’s face tightens.

“Benoit.” He simply says and the tone of his voice is one of discontent.

“Daddy, I loved him.” My voice is cracking.

“I know, but he wasn’t worthy of you.” Typical father talk. “Cian, Babe. Talk to me about Cian. I sense you are less than receptive to his involvement in your birth.”

“Yeah, a little. Kind of creepy, but at the same time; I can’t help but want him. I even dreamt about him before I met him.” The words fall out and I forget my company. “Everything about him intoxicated me, his smell; it’s something I can’t pinpoint which in itself is intriguing. Like a mixture of masculine and feminine tones, at times he smells like cedar and musky lavender and other times he smells like incense or flowers. His eyes, I’m usually not intimidated by anyone, not even Estella but when I met his gaze and touched his hand it was like staring at train wreck, you can’t look away until the initial impact then you automatically turn your head but the thought of taking my eyes off his made me feel sick. In his presence I felt whole, I didn’t cry or hurt anymore but as soon as he left, the pain returned. I don’t necessarily want to talk about our intimate encounter with you but his kiss is like…” I look up at my father, “sorry Daddy.”

“It’s okay, I wanted honesty and I have it.” He stops, I feel there is more to come, “…But, he will be leaving temporarily?”

I feel my stomach turn at the thought; hell my stomach is turning now. “I hope it’s temporary.” I hear the yearning in my own voice.

“I’m going to ask you and Cian, if he is agreeable, to test your bond. I will ask him to take a trinket back to Europe for me, after he and his brethren have laid Finn to rest of course. This will keep him from you for a little longer, but I think once you realize that what you have is real. You will both be happier.”

He is eyeing me speculatively, waiting for my reply. I have none at the moment. I’m shocked, but I had yet to be truly shocked.

“You see Babe, when I left years ago…it was for the same reasons. Well not the same scenario but the blood calling. I will never change, my face my body. I wanted to be sure that your mother was who I was supposed to be with one accord. I had to know that I was what was best for you, both. I knew when I met her that she had Estella’s blood in her and it was partly the reason I singled her out. After all that happened with you and your miracle birth I had to be sure that if I stayed it was for the right reasons.” My Daddy stops to watch my reaction.

I begin to feel the anger mount in me, “So you left us because you were unsure?” My tone is acidic. “Do you have any idea what Mamma and I went through? We were ostracized; ridiculed…”

“Babe I know you won’t believe me when I tell you that you would have experienced that regardless of my leaving.” He takes a long sip of his glass as I sear into him. I don’t understand and I assume I’m exuding such emotions when he begins again. “Those eyes of yours. Your Mothers, Estella’s and soon Scarlet’s; which I don’t envy you on that one; are intimidating, enchanting dark hooks in the souls of others. They bore into your very being and to some it’s off putting. As far as my leaving; your mother understood and I can only hope that in time and with what you and Cian may endure you will too.”

My anger subsides because no matter what our lives have never been and now I have positive conformation that they never will be; average. But my Daddy shocks me further.

“After drinking your mother’s blood; I know now that she holds a stronger bond to me than Estella ever did.”

“But you didn’t get the opportunity to drink Estella’s, how do you know its Mamma?”

“Because of you and my desires to try for you.” My Daddy smiles sweetly at me. I slightly blush, but he’s not finished, “Estella never made me want such things, but your Mamma…” He says looking fondly at the painting of her in her teens above the bar. He focuses back on me before saying, “Because of Cian. If he hadn’t been there that night, you would have never been…” My Daddy’s voice begins to crack. “And if Thessaly hadn’t agreed to…”

“It’s okay Daddy.” I sympathize as best I can, regardless of my subsided anger. I get up and walk behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders. As I linger there my hand absorbs the chill of his flesh. “Where did you go Daddy?” I ask as I begin to rub his shoulders.

“Spain, France, London…so on and so forth. I had a bit of a mess to clean up because of Mora. It was the persuading reason for my departure.” He stops my hands from the mindless and pointless massage of cold flesh which snaps me to attention. He doesn’t turn to face me, staring straight ahead of him, “It killed me to leave. Know that.” His tone is dark, almost mean but I don’t take it the way it sounds. It’s him and his personality. When I was a child it was the only way to get me to stop my nonsense. His, “I’m not playing anymore” tone.

For now I deter from that subject because the sound of her name makes my face twist up like Daddy’s did at Griffin’s. I begin rubbing my father’s shoulders again causing his clasped hand to fall away, “She must have been weaving quite a web.” I say disgustedly.

My father takes a long deep breath, “You really have no idea,” and finishes his blood.

I decide to change the subject, “What will become of Estella and the others?”

Again he places a hand on top of one of mine, “I hope to convince them to join me and revolutionize the city. If anyone has a reason to do so, it’s them. I will discuss it with Estella when she and Cian come by tomorrow evening.”

My grip tightens on my Daddy’s shoulders at the sound of his name. I’m a statue as I think of my vivid dreams and then their fruition. My body resonates at the thought of his cold giant hands. His supple lips at my thigh. The fierceness of his ice blue eyes and his raven mop of hair. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my long-lost father’s return I would have followed him to the end of the Earth tonight. What he does to me is…exactly what it is; unnatural, unreal, and unfathomable.

I hear slight laughter, “Babe?” My Daddy pulls me from my trance.

“What have you told people? I mean you and Mamma are fancily dressed this evening.” I roll my eyes behind my Daddy’s back.

“Mamma had an invitation to the Mardi Gras Ball; she said she hadn’t been in years. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to make my debut.” He says and I hear that sly tone in his voice, he turns to glance up at me, smiling. His teeth prominent.

I swat him, “Daddy!!” I round back, kneeling in front of him, “What did people say?!?” I can be such a gossip queen when I want to be. He laughs heartily and I have really missed that sound, “WELL!?!”

“Well, Tom was there. He shook my hand and then pulled me into a bear hug; big, sappy brute that he is.” Daddy laughs again, I smile at him.

“And the families, I know the Crosses were there?!?”

“Baby girl, I give this many shits about those families,” he says holding his hand to form a zero, his Creole accent oozing through; “Hell I’m gonna be the one to outlive them all. We all are.” He laughs heartily again but I feel him tense after.

“You okay Daddy?” I get up from the floor.

He slowly brings himself up from his chair, “Yes. Daddy has to go to bed now. Part of the package I’m afraid.”

Daddy kisses me on the cheek, “I love you baby girl.” He says.

“I love you Daddy, welcome home.” I say and he smiles before creeping out of the billiards room.

I slowly follow behind him and watch as he ascends the grand staircase. Once he is out of my sight I go to the front door and walk out to see the blackness of night has converted to a grayish blue. I gently sit in one of many rocking chairs, laying my head to one side and slowly, back and forth I rock and watch, as the gray slowly fades away with the arrival of the sun.
 
Prologue: Lars and Pierre-Negotiations

“She’s a good girl my Babet. You can trust her Lars.” Pierre says non-chalantly knowing his baby girl would never be interested in the larceny the Gunnar family has endured besides having little to no interest in any other besides Cian.

“I hope you’re right Beauregard, my ex-wife’s family recommended you highly and I like to trust the judgment of my former in-laws.” Lars replies with the undertone of his distaste for Lovisa’s involvement not to mention Vilma’s constant personal berating of him on the matter.

“Please, call me Pierre.”

“Pierre, if you don’t mind me asking, is your daughter, seeing anyone?” Lars hints hoping that this one, someone his own age, might strike Justus and stop all the petty womanizing and game playing his son has become more than a professional at. And how could he not, the boy learned from the master. Lars runs a hand through his thinning, graying blonde hair.

“I have to admit, Lars it’s an odd inquiry but yes, my daughter is involved in a rather serious relationship.” Pierre vaguely answers having a bit of an idea of where Gunnar is going. Pierre assumes Lars wants to throw his innocent baby girl at Lars’ son, the well known philandering actor. Pierre wonders if Babet even knows of the man or his infamous television show. Its heart wrenchingly difficult, he’s been away far too long, it should have never been this long, he thinks as his caramel colored hand slides through his raven hair. No, Babet must go. It’s the only way to keep her from …whatever has begun to lurk the city; more importantly outside the city, closer to home. A familiar scent and the unappealing intimacy surrounding it. His dark self-loathing thoughts are interrupted by a sigh at the other end of the telephone.

“I understand, forget I mentioned it.” Lars pauses before fumbling for the instructions faxed moments ago from Vilma and the contractual obligations of Babet Beauregard while under the employment umbrella of the Gunnar family. “I’m faxing the paperwork now and I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to do business with someone at this hour, I usually have to wait for daybreak to get anything accomplished.” He says with a chuckle and in turn hears it mirrored back at him.

“Oh, I find the best time to do business is when the rest of the world is asleep; makes you one step ahead in my opinion.” Pierre’s southern charm begins to ooze before he switches gears on Lars Gunnar. “Now I can appreciate your fervor for the safety of your son Mr. Gunnar,” and he is silent. A technique to enhance if not pique the interest of the listener for the next words uttered, “…but my baby girl, my only child Babet is my life, my love, my everything.”

Lars unconsciously straightens in his chair at Pierre’s eeriness and begins to look around his office as Pierre professes his fatherly love and adoration for his only heir. Sentimentality spoken through a voice of Cajun silk that nearly brings him to tears and feelings he too resonates for his own brood of seven, each child special and dear to him in their own way. But Pierre has only one, a daughter and Lars too has only one daughter, Lena. Sweet little Lena who now all grown up has made her own name as a fashion model. Lars feels a kinship to Pierre in this moment, mentally vowing to protect Babet as if she were one of his own. Lars can only clear his throat so not to hint to Pierre of his momentary emotionality. “I understand, Pierre.”
Pierre diminishes the seriousness in his voice and echoes his office when he says, “Excellent! And you will start the tracker as soon as I send you the five digit code via text once I’ve spoken to Babet as to her decision?”

“Yes. Is there any danger of her not being agreeable?” Lars teeters nervously on the edge of his leather chair.

“Not at all, Mr. Gunnar. I know my daughter and with the lure and opportunity of artistic endeavors in a place she has so longed to return to will be, how do the kid’s say it these days? “A no-brainer?”” Pierre laughs heartily at his desk, leaning back into his own leather office chair, one leg rested across the other. “Ah, I hear the wheels in motion.” His referral to the fax machine pumping out an 8 ½ by 11 inch document.

Lars clears his throat, “Yes, you should be receiving it now.”

Pierre rises from his seat and retrieves with fervor the faxed information. He glances at it briefly while making his way back to his mahogany desk. He places the paper in front of him while he resumes his seat. A snippet grasps his astute attention, “What is this part here Lars, a food list?”

Lars smiles at the attention Pierre has given the contract, “Well our philosophy is to keep food in the house people will eat. It’s a simple request to stock what your daughter will absolutely eat.”

Pierre takes a deep breath and as it’s a defense mechanism toward Lars, but he detects a hint of unwarranted familiarity in the air and quickly begins to pace through his office while he takes measures to insure Lars remains unbeknownst, “I see. Honestly she doesn’t eat much, but she likes certain things I will make note of before re-faxing the agreement.” His words are quick and curt as he seeks the scent more relentlessly as it unfortunately fades away once he reaches the French windows.

“I look forward to meeting your daughter Pierre, I myself have a girl; Lena.” Her name spills out with a hint of sadness.

“Oh?” Pierre’s feigns genuine interest, he is aware of every detail of the Gunnar family, including daughter Lena; sibling to Justus, twins Isak and Axel as well as Noak and Soren. Currently employed as a fashion model, well known socialite and relatively smart individual, Pierre listens while Lars speaks fondly of his own, only daughter.

Babet's Epiphany

http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...



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This is the END...Beautiful Friend?

We are all crouched for attack, Estella is snarling and Keane and Fallon are excited for the next step. Linde is ready for whatever transpires. Xavier joins Estella who smiles at him.

Angelique and Sophia are nowhere in sight. The bodies of Adewale and Charra are still bleeding at our feet. Fallon is looking at Alistair who is unchanged; casually talking to Flannaghan. Fallon seems aggravated and is impatient lurching forward but he is halted in mid air.

Morte’s doors fly off their hinges inside the club and once the dust and flying wood settles I discern Myra Elnora, tattered in rags is standing in the cracked frame. Beyond her is a tiny caramel colored man with thick black hair and mustache, he is overly dressed in a tuxedo and bow-tie, “Enough Mora, release her.” His face and mood is calm. I turn back to see Estella and then Babet who are both dumbfounded.
Simultaneously I hear, “Pierre?” “Daddy?”

Madliene lets go of Babet who begins to go to the man she is calling Daddy, but I grab her arm and pull her back to me, “It’s okay Cian, I am her Daddy.” He says and I slowly take my arms from around Babet, she looks up at me and smiles before turning to her father. She slowly makes her way over to him, he is her same height. She places her hands on his face and we all watch in awe at the twenty year reunion. Babet examines her father before collapsing onto him; he is happily surprised and engulfs her to him.

She pulls away and says, “Mamma…”
“Is fine, she is with me. Why do you think I’m in this monkey suit?” He comforts his daughter with southern charm before glancing over to Estella, his once intended bride, “When this is over, you and I will talk.” He says before releasing his daughter back to my waiting arms. Estella simply nods in acceptance.

Myra has made her way to Keane’s side, flanking Linde and Fallon. Alistair and Flannaghan nod, greeting Babet’s father. “Pierre.” Alistair begins, “What is the next step, sir?” His tone is obedient.

Pierre shoves his hands into his pockets gazing at the floor before locking eyes with Madliene, who he calls Mora, “Well Alistair I think, to be fair to Cian, who has taken such precise care of my Babe, a little more information is required. Mora deserves an explanation as well.”

He takes a deep breath and begins to tell the tale, “Firstly, I have been a vampire for a long time. Not as long as the boys here,” he motions to me, Fallon and Keane. “…But a while, including when I met you, Estella.” He smiles at her. “Much prior to that I was in France and happened on a country road where a family of travelers had been slaughtered, the only remaining heartbeat detected was Mora’s.” He turns to face her; Madliene looks small and inadequate staring at the floor. She won’t face him. “I saved her,” Her face shoots up to meet his, her eyes burning. “…Or I thought I was saving her. Little did I know that she was of witch descent and when I gave her our dark gift, she wasn’t able to join her family in the afterlife, where she hoped to be reincarnated into another soul. I trained her and hoped to invoke in her a desire to avenge her family; instead she turned her disdain toward me and once her training was complete, left me; for dead. For years and years, I thought nothing of it until the night she snatched Estella from me. And home from war, no less.”

“Heartless bitch.” Fallon says shaking his head, but he respectfully silenced himself; bowing in apology for interrupting Pierre.

“There was nothing I could do for Estella, had Mora and Creighton left her body, she would have then become my vampire mate. But they took her.” He pauses and looks at Estella, pink tears welling in both their eyes, “I missed you, more than you will ever know.”
He turns his attentions back to all of us, “I immersed myself in war, something I knew well. Married falsely and had false children and when World War two presented itself that became my drive for the next ten years. I returned to the states in the 1970’s and met Brigitte,” I feel Babet swell with pride at the sound of her mother’s name.

“Nine times, we tried, unsuccessfully to have our own child, my own child. Nine times it was not to be and then I met Myra Elnora; I visited her in her bayou dwelling. I heard from various outlets that she wielded real power, supernatural power. She directed me reluctantly to Cian, her only condition was information on Keane, which I did have. Thank you Linde.” Linde tilts his head to Pierre.

“Cian, I offer my humblest apologies for using you back then but I can’t help be more than grateful for your actions, whether or not they were intended by a third party to be malicious. You see, Mora, or Madliene’s youthful ignorance didn’t take a lot into account. Which is in no way her fault, she was too young at her death to have become as powerful a witch as Myra, prior to her death. Mora…” He says to Madliene, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Madliene’s voice is cracking and her tone is ominous, “YOU’RE SORRY!!!” She throws her hands forward, directing all her power at the small group closest to her. This included Fallon, Keane and Myra but it doesn’t befall them, the creature darts from it’s dark corner and is hit, his gangly frame smacks the back wall of the club. What falls from the wall is not the creature, it’s Fallon and I look over to my brother, he is still standing beside Keane and staring like the rest of us at his naked twin. The notches in his skin a dead giveaway.

“NO!” Fallon rushes over to his brother, “Finn, no….FINN!” He stares up at me and then past me to Madliene who is cackling like a crow but it would soon cease and we would all be finally free of her control, her hatred, her power. Fallon looked to the rafters of the club; before I have the chance to mirror him he calls out, “COLLETTE!”
Madliene looks around her as if something is coming for her and it is, but not from in front of her or behind.

Fallon’s human Barbie doll drops down from the rafters her stiletto heels dig into the space between Madliene’s shoulder blades and clavicles. In a somersault move Collette drives a long clawed piece of wood directly through Madliene’s sternum. Landing on the floor Collette is still holding the stake and in turn Madliene; Mora’s heart. She pops up, turning to hand the stick to Pierre who gladly took it. Collette then padded barefoot, hiding behind Alistair and Flannaghan, perfect choices. Collette’s heels are still inside Mora’s shell of a frame as it cracks and slowly crumbles to the floor. It isn’t long before the floor begins to quake beneath us and in that moment we grabbed what was precious to us to escape the coming avalanche.
We luckily make it out, all intact.

Alistair follows Flannaghan who grabbed Collette since Fallon had Finn’s lifeless but recognizable body. Keane and Myra flank Pierre who follows after me and Babet. Once outside Angelique and Sophia are standing with Romeo and Damien who are still rubbing their necks. Linde, Xavier and Estella are last out and in Estella’s arms is little Dat whose pale face is stained with pink tears.

After we are all safely from the building, we turn back to see the site is a pile of rubble. Even the club was an enchantment? And Myra answers my unspoken thoughts, “Yes Cian, this site was a pile of rubble before Madliene, or Mora got her hands on it.” Web of lies, I think to myself and Myra again, “You have no idea how wide.”

Estella lowers Dat to the ground and kneels to his level, “You are okay, and she can’t hurt you anymore.” Little Dat throws his tiny arms around Estella’s neck and it seems as though he’s not going to release her. He does and they exchange pleasant smiles.

But the boy is still scared and confused, “Where will I go?” He begins to cry again.

From behind Estella, Angelique is waiting patiently. She places her palm on Estella’s back; Estella straightens from her crouch as Angelique addresses Dat, “You’ll go with us, okay?”

Angelique’s tone is sweet and heartfelt and I am stunned at how much of the real Angelique I didn’t know. We all will have to get reacquainted with each other as ourselves, free of Madliene or Mora’s influence.

I am still holding onto Babet who I feel tug at my grasp, I look down. She is eager to join her father who is deep in conversation with Flannaghan and Alistair. Fallon is playing with Collette, praising her for her actions while he gently places Finn’s body into his waiting car. I am hesitant to let go, and before I do I pull on her shirt where the blood is crusting over, “Whose blood is this?” I ask my tone harsh.

She looks up at me and tears begin to well in her eyes, “Griffin’s. She had him down there too, but…he’s dead.”
I pull her back to me and I feel her wince, I am hugging her too
tightly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, we said our good-byes.” A sad smile traces her lips. She quickly recovers to save face and nods in the direction of her father. I release her and Babet races over, crashing into him. If he wasn’t vampire she would have knocked him down but his frame is a statue until he wraps his arms around his daughter.

Keane and Myra come over to where I am observing Babet’s exchange and other multiple conversations, Keane has his hand firmly planted on her shoulder and he looks like a giant next to her, “What now, brother?”

Before I have a chance to speak Pierre and Babet release their embrace and the “Little Cajun” speaks, “Cian, my grandchildren are in your haven?” He says this as if he already knows.
“Aye.” I say nodding to him.

Pierre holds his small hand out in the direction of my warehouse. I walk ahead with Keane and Myra, but I look back to see Flannaghan and Alistair flanking Pierre and Babet and it’s now obvious to me, the way Alistair and Flannaghan are positioned, that the “former King” is Babet’s father. Fallon moves his car to the front of the warehouse and inside Finn’s body is sitting in the backseat, as if he is peacefully asleep. Linde is bidding farewell to Pierre and Keane before we enter, thanking Pierre for the opportunity to be a part of the Queen’s downfall, all this I hear but I can’t take my eyes off Babet who watches her father meticulously.

Inside the Beauregard family is reuniting and introducing their fallen patriarch to the two grandchildren he has missed growing up. Scarlet is ecstatic to see her mother and Babet, hers. Mrs. Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard is hugging her daughter and granddaughter but as she focuses on my face she breaks away from Scarlet and Babet.

“Cian?” She says, slowly making her way over to me, her chiffon periwinkle ball gown makes her appear to be floating, “Thank you.” And the petite woman bids me to her level, I oblige and she kisses each side of my face. I straighten to see everyone quietly staring at us. I don’t know how to respond to Babet’s mother, I simply nod and when I look up Babet is smiling at me.

The silence is broken by Xavier, “I apologize for interrupting but…” And it’s a revelation into who Xavier really is, I’ve never heard “apologize” come out of his mouth, “…where do we go from here?”

Alistair interrupts, “If you’re smart lad, you’ll pledge allegiance to Pierre…” but Pierre silences him.
“I will not require you to stay with me, this isn’t a takeover, it’s a…it was, a revolution. And now that it’s complete; you may go wherever you wish. And if you wish to stay in New Orleans I will bother you not, unless you provoke me.” Pierre says the last part with underhanded jest.

“I would like to stay and I would be honored to join you Pierre.” He says politely, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I accept son, but know that you are free to leave at anytime.” Pierre’s hazel eyes stare deep into Xavier who bows in thanks.

I am pleasantly surprised by Xavier and wish I knew what freed him of his bounds to the Queen, his demeanor in the club was already altered.

“Under enchantment he had been following you from day one. Earlier in the night when you, Estella and Keane came to see me he was on your heels, the Queen masking his scent from you. When the three of you left he almost approached my door, but you two returned and startled him back. After the two of you left for the second time, he found the will to come calling. I removed her enchantments from him; but I removed Estella’s while she was in stasis.” She stops and laughs, “Right, Penelope should receive the credit; she was working within me while we all spoke. I apologize dear.” Myra is on a roll before Fallon chimes in.

“So Madliene was the one who fucked up my brother?”

“No, Fallon. World War Two disfigured Finn, Madliene’s power strike was enough to change him back to his human form, since he died a mutated vampire. The aftermath of the bunker explosions along the France/German border was where Alistair and Flannaghan originally found Finn, on Pierre’s orders. Eventually they brought him here, hoping I could heal him, but I couldn’t. Due to his condition he was not able to help the Beauregard’s.”

“Yeah, explain all that please.” Fallon is blunt and it’s something we, Keane and I would like to know also.

Myra begins, “Alright, when I made you it wasn’t how it was to be done. But because of the way you four were made, your blood held properties that your average bitten and fed vampires don’t. Your blood can sustain human life on a much higher level and when Mrs.
Beauregard continuously miscarried; Pierre came looking for a solution. Cian you were the closest since Keane was in Iceland and Fallon in Las Vegas. Thessaly did what she did that night partly for the Queen but mostly for Pierre. He always has an ear to the ground in New Orleans, he used the Queen, who thought she was using Cian, but she was really playing into the proper hands. Let’s just say Thessaly has always been a double agent, so to speak. Pierre used Thessaly, who used the Queen, who used Cian, who played into what Pierre wanted all along.”
“Two things; there is a lot of using going on here and can we please stop calling that cunt, Queen.” Oh Fallon, Fallon, Fallon.

“Well it’s easier than the Madliene/Mora nonsense.” Sophia has spoken for the first time since it all happened.
We all laugh, but I see Babet is turning it over and over in her mind, what our connection really means. I want to approach her but I get the distinct impression that she’s been through enough and would benefit from familial time with the father she has long missed.

Pierre begins to usher his family from my haven and I want desperately to speak to Babet before she leaves. She is gazing back at me, her mother holds Henri in her arms and Scarlet’s hand. Pierre sees the exchange, “Cian, Estella, join us tomorrow night at the family home?”

Babet looks over at her father and then back at me, she is smiling and this is my catalyst, “Of course.”

“Yes.” Estella is quiet.

“Xavier, I’ll be in touch.” Pierre says and Xavier nods.

“Until then.” Pierre opens the gate and the small family steps inside the cage, Alistair and Flannaghan stand in front as the gate comes down before them. I look past them and watch Babet until the top of her head is out of sight.

I turn back to the gathering of vampires in my haven. Xavier is deep in conversation with Sophia. Estella and Angelique are playing with Dat, tickling the little boy. Fallon and Collette are whispering to each other and laughing, I make my way over to them, “Thank you Collette.” I say my hand stretched out to her, she shoves it away and hugs me.
Collette releases me and Fallon laughs before asking, “So brother, you ready to go home?”

“Home? Am I not home?” I jest, but I know what he is insinuating. “Aye. Home.”

“I want to take him back, back to Dalry.” Fallon is serious and prideful.
“Dalry?” Keane asks.

“Edinburgh is overrun; he won’t have a restful place.”

“That’s true.” Keane agrees and then asks, “When do we leave?”

“I won’t have to check my Morningstar, because Collette will arrange a chartered plane to depart two nights from now. We will travel through the night and while we are in stasis Collette will organize the service to begin at dusk.” Fallon says, kissing Collette on her nose. “Let’s go love; I can’t keep my hands off you.” The two depart, Collette continuously giggling down the elevator shaft.

Myra and Keane rise to their feet and I know they are next to leave. Xavier and Sophia linger until Estella and Angelique are ready to go. Angelique holds Dat’s hand as they enter the elevator, already practicing their new ruse of mother and son. Estella looks at me and simply nods before saying, “Until tomorrow Cian.”

I relinquish any hardness and embrace my sweet Estella, who, even though we have had our moments, I now see as my sister. I swell with pride as she; Angelique, Dat, Sophia and Xavier descend. There is an hour before sunrise and I go into stasis thinking and re-thinking. I revel in the familiarity of my box, my scent, and my home. Home. Home to Scotland, it’s more than a long time coming. But where do I stand with Babet? Do I return to New Orleans after? I had to give this all up until the sun went down. I do. I clear my mind and before long I am freed from stasis.

The Beauregard family home is lit up the way it was the first time I saw it but there are no parked cars or attendants to do so, tonight it truly is a family home. Her family home. Estella walks slowly beside me and it seems as though neither one of us wants to go inside, anticipating the next shoe to drop as far as our connections to this family.
We finally reach the vast front porch and the front door opens; Flannaghan is standing in the doorway practically taking up the entire space. He is doing his best to exude seriousness, but he’s not old enough to hide his elation to see us, “Cian, brother please come in,” He stands aside, “Estella,” her name as if he is announcing her Oscar award win. He takes her hand kissing it gently.

Estella is hospitable, “Flannaghan.” She says smiling.

Flannaghan closes the door and flanks us as we enter the foyer, “Everyone is in the drawing room.” He mentions before leaving toward the back of the house.
Estella and I stand outside the drawing room, “You ready for this?” She asks and a sad smile crosses her lips.
“It’s now or never.” I say, stroking her back. My finger gets stuck in one of the holes on Estella’s crocheted dress, “Sorry.”

She smirks and I hear a low scoff come from her, “Come on.”

She pushes the doors open to reveal the Beauregard family, sitting, talking, and laughing. Pierre is bouncing Henri on his knee and Scarlet is showing her grandmother how to text with today’s technological possibilities. They seem happy, Scarlet smiling. She looks so much like my sister from the right angle and it is easy to discern her mother, grandmother and great aunt in the teenager’s face. I scan the room, no Babet.

“Cian, Estella, come…please, come in!” Pierre is clearly a man who has found his way back to what he holds most dear. His jovial welcome an apparent indication.

“Pierre.” Estella holds her hands out and turns her face to accept Pierre’s welcome, kissing both his cheeks as he does hers. Her tone is receptive and she seems happy to see him.

“May I introduce my bride, Brigitte?” Pierre holds his hand out to properly introduce the distant relatives.
“Aunt Estella.” Brigitte takes Estella’s hand and places it on her face, “I can’t tell you, how wonderful…” but Babet’s mother can’t finish, taking her seat back next to Scarlet who comforts her grandmother.

Pierre comes to her rescue, “She’s taking all this in as well, and she is your mother’s youngest brother’s great-granddaughter.” He says, but Estella seems confused, she was not aware of the young uncle. “He was born after you…” Pierre does not finish his sentence, but Estella’s emotions tell me it is copasetic between them.

There is a pregnant pause before Pierre breaks the silence, “Can I offer either of you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Estella is polite and I know she has fed for the night.
But as I haven’t fed since Babet was taken I graciously accept, “Please.”
“Cian, the study is down the hall. You will find a small refrigerator behind the desk, help yourself.” He turns from me to Estella, “Stella, may I speak to you in private?” She nods and rises to follow him.

I peek around the corner of the door frame and spy the library door ajar. I cross the hall and palm the door, slowly opening it. Inside Babet sits, her legs crossed on a brown leather sofa. She is decadent in a pair of crimson and cream damask shorts. She rises from the couch, the overly worn white v-neck t-shirt clings to her frame and the nude bra she attempts to conceal underneath is plainly visible. She keeps her eyes on me and mine on her as she crosses the room to the dark wooden desk that is surrounded throughout by dark wood paneling. She doesn’t speak, but keeps close watch on me as she presses a section of paneling. The wooden panel pops open to reveal a hidden refrigerator stocked with blood bags.
She pulls one from the stash, opens it like a professional and holds it out to me.

I begin to approach her slowly but I can’t help myself, my pace quickens. I push the hand holding the blood bag away and engulf her mouth in mine, pulling her body to me. She drops the bag and reciprocates, sliding her hands up my back, I have her arced until she picks up her feet wrapping her legs around my waist.

We passionately meld into each other before we hear the distinct sound of a man clearing his throat, “I apologize.” Flannaghan is standing in the doorway, “Pierre wishes to speak with you.”

I put Babet down on her beautiful bare feet and she watches me as I dip down to retrieve the blood bag that had begun to drip free. I keep my gaze on her as I put it to my lips, sucking it down like a parched child drinks a Capri Sun. I wink and smile at her as I turn to follow Flannaghan out to the hall where Pierre is waiting. Flannaghan takes my empty bag.

“Sir,” I say; bowing.

“Please.” He says his hand out to usher me back to where he took Estella.

I oblige, crossing the threshold into another paneled room, billiards and games set about the floor. A regulation sized pool table sits center of the room, surrounded by tables for backgammon, chess and roulette. Along the far wall is a stocked bar, Pierre ducks behind the granite slab and retrieves a blood bag. He opens it as easy as Babet and pours the contents into two Chrystal scotch glasses. He offers me one, I take it and smirk at him; Scotch.

He sips his before he addresses me, “Cian, I…how can I put this? I am proud of the choice my daughter has made, I wasn’t fond of Benoit. I feel that, like me, you are a good man who lost his way. As you can see I have found mine again and I think that the time you have spent with my daughter has brought you back to yours.” He stops and I feel a “But…” coming.

I am right, “But, I know you will be leaving, correct?”

I am wary of where this conversation is headed, “Temporarily; yes.”

I see him pondering something, “The bond inside your blood, the connection to Babet is a true one. But in-utero when your blood healed her mother it provided more than a bond to Babet. Yes, she is unfathomably beautiful; this is partly due to the vampire blood. The way Scarlet looks like you sister, and her uncanny ability to hear long distances; that is another. Henri’s ease when you and other vampires are around is a third.” He stops to take another sip of his glass before beginning again, “I have discussed this with Babet already and she is receptive; if you are?”

I am waiting patiently for him to continue, taking another sip from my glass.

“I detected hints of questions in her about it. The bond that is; and I, of course had a suggestion. For the two of you to test the bond.”

He stares at me and I gently place my glass on the granite bar, “What did you have in mind?” I couldn’t help wondering what all this entails.
He seems pleased at my reception, smiling and placing his glass down as well, “While you’re in Europe,” He stops to dip down below the bar again. This time he doesn’t bring out a blood bag but a bag of another sort. In Pierre’s fist is a black sack with a drawstring.

He doesn’t open it but places it on the bar, “What is it?” I ask; genuinely curious.

“It’s Mora’s heart.” He says with utmost seriousness.

“Her heart?” I am slightly mortified.

“Yes. After you and your brothers have laid Finn to rest I would like you to take her heart and bury it where her family plot lies in Bologna. When you return to the states, you are of course welcomed back into New Orleans with open arms. You will be free to move about as you please, you even have my blessing to continue your relationship with Babet.” He stops and the “But…” is on it’s way, “But, if you and Babet want to gain absolute confirmation of the bond. To know that you are supposed to…live in the same breath, so to speak?”

He sees my intrigue and continues, “Go somewhere you know she will find you, just as you found her. Let your blood call to her; as she called yours.” From inside his glass I hear his next sentiment, “Thank God it did too. What say you Cian?”

He can see I am confused, “If she hadn’t had the advanced sense of smell, she; and the children would be dead. There will be lots of her attributes that present themselves, but for now her gifts are simple.”

“Ah. May I see her once more, tonight before I leave?” I feel dismal at this, but if I honestly want to know if what she and I have is real, I must relent.
“Of course Cian, you are our guest tonight and I won’t take ‘No’ for an answer. The boys will pick you up from here tomorrow evening; your flight is an hour after dusk.

I take the black sack off of the bar and gingerly place in inside my pocket. He then hands me a small slip of paper, “These are the coordinates.”
My actions give him the confirmation he needs, “You will thank me, I know it doesn’t seem like so, but I do understand the bonds of blood.” He casts his eyes to a portrait of the women in his life, Brigitte and Babet, at least six months after her birth.
“My warehouse?” I ask and he turns back to me.

“By the end of the week, I…rather, Babet will own your warehouse. It will be as you left it, once you return.”

“Thank you.” My tone is slightly perturbed.

“I hope you don’t feel put upon Cian, you are my daughter’s mate. In our family we take care of each other. The city does have plans for your warehouse, but I can stop that by purchasing it, under Babe’s name of course.”

“No, sir. I am grateful; Babet made mention of turning it into her new studio.”

And I see the light bulb over his head, “She’s a smart cookie my baby girl.”

“Yes, she is.” We stand there and I know this is an unspoken bond I have formed with the Beauregard’s. But I feel something tugging at me, specifically Griffin Benoit. “Sir?” I ask.

“Please Cian, Pierre….call me, Pierre.” He smiles taking his glass in his hand.
“Did you have Finn kill Griffin?” I am studying him closely and I see and feel I have caught him off guard.

He recovers, smiling and taking a sip from his glass, “Yes.” He says and then tips his glass back to kill the contents, slowly placing the glass on the bar.

“I have my reasons as a father; but it was a rash error on my part…an error that became Mora’s catalyst thanks to Xavier.” His tone is ominous and I begin to fear for Xavier’s existence.
“But you can’t blame Xavier for his actions, he was under enchantment.” I say very seriously.

He begins to laugh heartily, “Oh, Cian. I don’t blame Xavier or any of you, but now that she is gone from my city; there will be great changes and improvements regarding our co-habitation with humans.”
I feel a sense of relief as Pierre and I speak further, his ideas and plans for New Orleans are monumental and favorably absolute. He and Estella have had the closure they both so longed for and it seems as if the burden that weighed so heavily on us all is a little lighter. Positivity can return to our never-ending existences, I am pulled from these thoughts by the scent of lavender and rose hips.

“Hey.” She says smiling at me and her father as she saunters over. I feel Pierre watching me.

“Hey Baby.” He rises from the brown leather chair to kiss his daughter’s cheeks, “I’ll give you two some time.” He turns to leave but stops, he doesn’t turn back around to face us, “Thank you Cian.”

I do not respond, because he doesn’t need it. Pierre and I understand each other. Babet watches this exchange and then sits down on my lap. She curls into my chest and draws her knees up; she is mine. Mine to keep, to protect, and to…Love.

I kiss the top of her head and seductively whisper, “Show me to my room.”

She cocks her head to look into me and she smiles her own gloriously sexy smile before hopping off my lap. We ascend a grand staircase and at the back of the upstairs hall she leads me into a room I pay no attention to other than the antique four-poster bed that dominates the space. I push her down on it and until the kiss of dawn I worship her body, making love to her with the sanctity of our bond. When I wake and prepare for the trip home the following evening; Keane, Myra, Fallon and Collette are waiting.

As I descend the staircase, Babet is close behind me. We reach the bottom and I turn to her, gazing once more upon her steadfast beauty. I bend to kiss her and as I do, I am inundated with the swell of cheerful emotions surrounding the room.

I smile; as does she before whispering to me, “I love you Cian.”

I am happily crumbling inside, those words I haven’t heard since I was young; since I was mortal. I sincerely don’t want to leave, but I know I must. I crush her to me, taking as mush of her scent in as I can, “I love you….I will be seeing you.” I say to her sweetly the warmth welling in my eyes.
I release her and walk out the door.



EPILOGUE
Pierre and Estella-Estella’s POV:

“Please.” Pierre holds out his hand to usher me into his billiards room.
I slide through the door and make my way past the gaming tables. He offers me a seat; the old leather chairs are surprisingly supple. I watch him take a seat across from me, smiling as he does. He hasn’t aged a day since the night he returned home from war. His thick mustache, black hair and Creole facial features as prominent as they were then. His attire has changed though; I must say Pierre looks good in loose fitting jeans and polo.

“Pierre, I…” but he doesn’t let me finish, that hasn’t changed.

“Stella, it’s apparent to me that you have the capability to expand your gifts but have been hindered from doing so, correct?” He is politely serious.

He has his business face on, so I keep it professional, “Yes. “Mora” kept me from developing it further than her uses for it. Why?”

He shifts in his chair, folding one leg over the other, “I want to you to focus all your energy on doing just that. Do not do it because I have asked you, do it because you have the opportunity and it’s long overdue. As tightly as Mora had that townhouse wrapped in enchantments; you were still able to pull the human’s scent out.”

I am visibly surprised and he sees this.

“Scarlet; darling. Scarlet told me. She said after multiple attempts, you were exhausted but still managed to. That; my dear is potential, potential I simply cannot ignore.” He says eyeing me, waiting. I turn my gaze to my hands.
“Do I have to work for you?” I don’t look at him.

He has his little fingers crossed into each other, but he shifts again and rises from the chair. I peek up just in time to see him hovering in front of me. His hand grazes my face and tilts it to meet his, “Stella, what is it?”
I take a deep breath, “You just can’t imagine what we have all been through with…Mora.” I begin to feel the tears, “I can’t…”

“Shush; girl.” He says bending down to my level. He quietly takes my hands in his, “As I said, I am not taking over. I am revolutionizing; and I want you, Xavier, Angelique and Sophia by my side.”

“And Dat?” I say, the baubles teetering on the edge of my lids.

“Dat.” He says and takes a deep breath.
“Yes, Pierre. Dat?” I am borderline angry; I know this look.

After a long pause he finally speaks, “Yes…and Dat.”

“I remember that tone Pierre and I don’t like it.” I say staring into him.

“Fair enough. Dat; of course is a forbidden turn…” I cut him off.

“Yes, but…”
He simply stops, I remember this too. “I apologize, please continue.” I say.

“Thank you.” God I hate that tone, snarky shit.

“As I was saying, Dat is a forbidden turn. However, I would be honored if he would join us. I don’t want to influence the behavior of child-transformation, but our kind need to know why and Dat will be a prime example.” He simply smiles.

Relief comes over me. Poor Dat can’t endure anymore heartache and hardship. Little thing has been through enough, bless his tiny heart.

I feel Pierre waiting for my response. “Thank you Pierre.”
He nods but I feel he has more to say. He sits back in his chair, “Stella, the fact of the matter is that I do know what you have been through with Mora.
All of you.” He crosses his legs again, “I want to help you, all of you. Angelique needs to get healthy and re-bond with her sister. Xavier seems well adjusted but he will have to undergo etiquette re-adjustment according to my rein. Sophia as well. They are newer and programmed to Mora’s agenda.”

I take all this in; I can’t help but jest with him, “Like a vampire political team?” I say, slightly giggling.
He is smiling but I know my joke is anything but, “Yes. But Stella, I am not a politician. I am a monarch.”
I nod and take a deep breath, “Okay.” I say but my trust in this is hanging by a thread.

He changes the subject and I am grateful, “Where are you all staying?”
“Audubon.” I reply and his face nearly washes white. For him that is saying something.

“Why there?”

“Interesting choice, I know; but once she was dead I assumed the enchantments…”
Pierre cuts me off, “I would find alternate lodgings if I were you. You all are welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

I stand and he mirrors me, “Thank you but I’m sure by now Sophia has located some hip loft for us to move to.”
He smiles and nods before saying, “I’ll be in touch then?”

“Yes.” I kiss his cheeks before turning on my heel to leave.

Pierre follows me out and in the hall Flannaghan is waiting. “Flannaghan, get Cian after you’ve shown Estella out. He and Babet are in the library.”

“Of course; Estella?” Flannaghan says holding his hand out to me.

I make my way to the front door and look over my left shoulder, through the crack in the library door I see Cian has Babet arched backward passionately kissing her. I smile to myself as I close the front door behind me.

Walking across the lawn of the Beauregard family home I begin to feel renewed. Pierre had always been one to do what he says he will do and after seeing Cian and Babet I feel that good things will come from it. Angelique and I can start a new life with Dat. Xavier and Sophia have become rather close in the last twenty four hours and perhaps it was there all along for them. It will be a nice change to have relationships with others that are not influenced by a maniacal lunatic.

Finally; Peace.

 

EPILOGUE
Cian, Fallon, Collette, Myra, Keane-Cian POV:

The door closes behind me and as I watch my brothers, Myra and Collette clamber into the waiting limousine I can’t help but feel the unyielding urge to let them go without me. I stand idle before Fallon scolds me.

“Cian, time is of the essence.”

I nod to him, but I refuse to look back, it would be my undoing. I saunter over to the open door where Flannaghan stands waiting. His face shows a hint of knowledge but I don’t let it faze me.

Babet is safe with her father, this I know. With henchmen… or colleagues, rather; like Alistair and Flannaghan and the Queen abolished I need not worry for her. Worry is not my greatest concern now; my heartache and the emotional turmoil I will endure until I see her magnificent face again will be difficult to bare. All this I ponder while in route to the airport. I am pulled from my reverie by Fallon’s booming voice and that of Keane’s delightful laughter.

“Tell me this…Linde and the Vikings were here way before Amerigo; I mean…”
Keane roars with laughter, “Aye and remember when Ponce wanted us to go to Florida with him.”

I can’t help but have a wide smile on this one; it took us hours to explain to Ponce that we didn’t need to go looking for a fountain of youth. Still to this day I don’t think he grasped it, something had to have been lost in translation.

I look over to Myra and Collette who gaze lovingly at their men and again I am struck with a wrenching demand for Babet. They remain quiet as Keane and Fallon rehash old adventures. Myra already knowing everything we speak of and Collette I assume has heard it time and time again from Fallon. A slight smile crosses my lips as my eyes dart from each woman, but I know Myra is always in my head and as I think this she meets my eyes and smiles. I turn from her to watch the infinite yellow line on the roadside, listening to my brothers.

“…The English Reformation!” Keane blurts.

“It was so good to be a pagan in those days.” Fallon retorts.

Before long we arrive at the New Orleans airport, our limousine granted access on the tarmac. We all pile out and into a waiting private jet. I am last to ascend the small staircase, but before I cross the threshold I take one last glance, whiff and feel of New Orleans and Babet Ben…Beauregard.


Revelations of Cian



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LOOK FOR THE BEGINNING OF THE FOLLOW UP TO Revelations of Cian, Babet's Epiphany NEXT WEEK!!!

BLOG TREAT!! Author Interview

G. D. OGAN!!

1) If you were beginning your writing career today what would you do differently? I would cut back on the "explicit togetherness" (sex) in my first novel as that seems to be a stumbling block for some who start reading the first of my three novels in my "Immortal Relations" series.




2) What's the one thing about you that might surprise the reader? Most people who meet me don't believe I'm in my 70s, they think I'm in my late 40s or early 50s.




3) Tell us a little about your main character in your latest book. Gary Logan is a retired military officer who travels to Prague in the Czech Republic to see the place where his late father had a picture taken. There he falls in love with a VERY UNIQUE LADY! ("Immortal Relations" pages 1-11)




4) What are some of your favorites; Color, Food, Place? Color - Red, Food - Anything Chocolate, Place - Taipei, Taiwan

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G.D. Ogan

IT ALL COMES OUT...

I looked over my shoulder to find Estella’s face had hardened to stone, her eyes bearing into mine. I return to face Madliene, “I will kill them.” I say holding her gaze before my mind was taken by a flash of blood and tears, a pleading emotion coming from the intense image. I couldn’t escape the captivating and familiar face of a young pregnant woman being pulled into a hospital on a blood soaked gurney. I was then hit with the familiar smell of her blood, which became more than I could bear.

What followed was one of the most horrifying images I have ever been forced to endure. I was brought to my knees, but kept my grip on Romeo and Damien, and as there aren’t many times a vampire can cry, I felt the warmth flow from my cold eyes. In that moment the revelation of who this woman was, tore what little sliver of a heart I had left, or rebuilt since meeting Babet, out.

I was face to face with a young Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard, her trembling hand gripping the sticky gurney sheet, her words I cannot hear, but her emotion and fear I harbor pleading for my help. Why I was in the hospital that night, the purpose so lost and unclear to me. The next flash was the final blow, which made me call out for the Queen to stop her mind control.

“No more!” I yelled and I hear the sound of Romeo and Damien’s bodies hitting the floor followed by their combined gasps for life in their lungs. The two humans scurry away to the best of their ability. I rise to face her, Madliene sturdy as a mountain fails to budge. “Why?” I pleaded of her.

“Why indeed Cian,” she clasped her hands together in front of her, launching from the balcony, landing with a thud and began to circle me like the bloodthirsty shark she is. “Why were you there? Why were you so eager to heal a young, pregnant, Mrs. Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard? And most importantly, who would suggest such a terrible thing?”

Her overblown arrogance disgusted me and I could see Estella felt the same. I could feel the intimidation pouring from Madliene, but this time it wouldn’t work.

As I turned to face Madliene I was again, inundated with the vision of Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s face buried into my pulsing forearm. I feel my knees weaken yet again as my body felt heavier than it ever had. It had all come together in that moment, in Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s pleading eyes staring into mine and as her lips pushed harder into my arm’s cold flesh.

Those big pleading eyes began to roll into the back of her head before she released me from her grasp and fell back onto the gurney. Madliene’s voice broke through the image like a spear through the mist, “You see Cian, no matter what you do to protect her, she will eventually be one of us.” The tone of her voice went from accusing to humorous as she spoke her final words, “And you, dearest Cian have only yourself to blame.”

I hung my head, not comprehending what I had done, why I had done it, or even, why, I was there. My mind was spinning when I heard the heavily cockney voice of a tall Englishman and a face I have only seen in pictures, enter the club. I turn to see him stroll into Morte’ like the devil come courting. An arrogance about him, without question or fear of what he was interrupting and as I turned from the voice of the Englishman I noticed that the arrogance and intimidation of our Queen was diminished as if he were pulling her emotions from her.

“Not entirely yourself to blame. Cian, is it?” he said as he glided over to shake my hand, “Alistair, is my name. Though I don’t need to introduce myself to you do I, Queen Madliene?” The volume of his voice became quiet as he turned to her, taking her delicately deadly hand in his, kissing it gently, and smiling as he met her gaze. Our Queen was speechless, fear had taken over her aura and she seemed to be almost shrinking inside, our powerfully fearless mistress was becoming what resembled a shattered and naive child as if she had been caught by her father in her mother’s lingerie. We could all feel it emoting from her being.

I turn to see Estella’s stance soften, her hands relaxing from their claw like shape. Her face almost relieved to cast her eyes upon Alistair and Angelique who appeared at his side. For the first time tonight Madliene looked worried.

Through the haven doors Xavier and Keane walking almost hand in hand their bodies so close as they approached the situation, a small smirk cross Keane’s face as he and Xavier parted to reveal Babet.

Alive, unharmed on her own feet smiling when she saw and crossed the floor to me, though the closer she got to me I could smell blood on her. I took her in my arms and held her there, taking in all her senses taking me in. Her grasp on my waist as her head rested perfectly in my chest was more relief than I have ever felt from a human, even from my sister when we escaped with our lives hundreds of years ago.

I felt Babet take a deep breath as she burrowed herself deeper and deeper into me, I put my face against her glorious cherry hair and stole my own moment with the scent of her. Eventually, it was obvious that we weren't alone and the entire room was witnessing this personal experience between us, but neither of us cared, just content with the knowledge that the other was safe. For now.

I pull her from me to examine her stained dark blue shirt, “Whose blood is this?” I say to her and only her. She doesn't answer me, just shaking her head and closing her eyes before burying back into my chest.

Alistair was here no doubt to exact some sort of revenge on Madliene and considering the reaction of the proper sides, I was confident that in her absence Angelique had been successful in her mission to find some sort of origin on the soon to be dowager Queen. Even though Alistair had been able to hold Madliene, she wouldn't go down, so to speak without a fight. My thoughts were interrupted by their prolonged completion. Alistair had the ability to read one’s mind and his skills were old and tuned to perfection, “It won’t come to that, Cian….I promise,” All this he said staring into Madliene, never looking at me once, “Will it, dear?”

Madliene said nothing at first, stood as still as the ancient statue she is, Sophia a zombie by her side, Alistair continued to circle her and then pace from each group of us before standing again beside Angelique. We all kept our positions as he continued, “You see, Cian, everyone, this was our last straw; our backs are, broken. Your human…” his voice turned disgusted at the word, “…was never to be involved in our world.”

Angelique fades from Alistair’s side, appearing beside Sophia. She leads the girl away from Madliene who doesn't dare protest. Once Sophia and Angelique are out of site beyond the haven doors Alistair states, “There, that’s better. Sweet Angelique just wanted her sister back; it was all the payment she required for her information regarding this establishment and all of you. Now…”
Alistair continued, explaining that the night I was met with Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard and her unborn fetus, Madliene sent me to the hospital to investigate the found victim of a former member of our family, Razmus. His victim had been drained but not extinguished and the man was still able to communicate, so much so that he was able to identify Razmus; down to the color of his boots.

This of course made the Queen and others very nervous, being who I am I was the natural choice to determine whether or not this man should live and Razmus die or as it went, both. On my exit of the hospital is where I would encounter Babet’s mother. Upon her arrival, it is explained to me, that, not only healing her affected my memory, but Madliene had the entire accord completely wiped from my mind.

Thessaly, who was employed during the 3rd shift at the hospital, tipped the doctor of my ability to help the dying mother. During the conversation with the doctor regarding the possibility of my assistance, which I originally refused to abide. I allowed Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard to penetrate my shield and with her pleadingly beautiful eyes hooked my soul, I obliged. Thessaly, also connected to Madliene, hell, we all are, aren't we, made her aware of the situation, gaining permission to the tip off to who I was. Thessaly’s payment was her neutrality; Madliene would never again request Thessaly’s violent assistance. But why? Why? WHY!? I feel like a child.

“The reason Madliene gave such permission, knowing what she was engaging in?” Alistair stated rather loudly and boisterously before turning to face Estella, “Because of her distaste for her maker, which is how she obtained you, sweet Estella. For years Madliene has hunted those close to her maker, her attempts to hurt him and take from him what he took from her.”, Alistair began to pace yet again, “Estella, tell me, around what year did you get notification of a positive identification of your human family from Madliene?” Estella said nothing, just stared at Alistair, when she seemed to have a glimpse of that time, her brow furrowed and then her eyes slightly widened. At this, Alistair just nodded and paced once again, “That’s what I thought.”

“Was this your master plan, my dear, to obtain the human ties of your maker to form the vampire family you so desperately need.” Madliene’s face met Alistair’s, her lips parted and she spoke for the first time since his arrival. He glances around to each of us.

“Please. Alistair. Don’t.” her tone is weak like a chastised child.

He turns to face her, his fierce blue eyes penetrating her, “It’s too late my dear.”

Flannaghan enters, we are all distracted for a moment and that is all it takes for Madliene to make a move, she is like lightning snatching Babet from my arms, spinning her. Babet is attached to Madliene’s front, pulling Babet from the group, “I am going to do to her what her father did to me! And it won’t take long. Will it darling,” She is stroking Babet’s face with her bone finger, “All I have to do is stop her heart and she will be one of us. Cian, isn’t that what you want, I know it’s what he wants.” She is using my monster as defense, albeit a poor one.

Babet is not letting this small detail she has learned die, “My father is dead.”

She says her voice faltering under Madliene’s grasp.

Madliene cackles, “You’re half right.”

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Welcome to his home? Reconvening at Cian's...

Scarlet seems wonderstruck as she cranes her head taking in the high ceilings of the warehouse but she gains composure and enters the elevator with me and Estella. My haven is still illuminated and stands as I left it. I hold the gate up for us to pass through, dropping the duffle bags by it. I release the gate and fasten the latch. Scarlet is walking around my haven the same way her mother did less than two weeks ago, politely smiling at the old tattered antique couch.

I allow her to take her time before giving her the “penny” tour. She is still holding Henri as I show her the sink and shower, should she need water. I ask her respectively to stay away from the windows and to keep the lights on should Officer Dumas return. I explain the television and advise her of my box. She is less than excited about the possibility of having to hide in my resting place, but I can see her realization that the entirety of this is for her and Henri’s protection. Estella stands idle watching my interaction with the teenager and I feel a slight swell of pride come from her. I cut my eyes in her direction and smile as I explain things to Scarlet, who is taking it all in. All the while I am internally devising my plan to “handle” our most gracious “Queen”. Multitasking is a bitch sometimes.

“Can I ask you something?” Scarlet says hoisting Henri further up her tiny body.

I bend so that she is looking down at me, “Of course.” Estella is intrigued by this, Scarlet has been as vocal with her over the last two weeks about as much as she has with me, which isn’t much.

“The night our house burned down and you took us to the townhouse, why did you say I unsettled you?”

“Christ, your mother was right; you do have ears like a bat.” She smiles at this. For the moment I am at a loss for words, Estella is expectant and pleasantly surprised. “I said what I said that night because I didn’t know then, what I know now.”

“Which is what?”

“That you and your mother and brother are very special. I feel a kinship to the three of you, a feeling I haven’t felt in….” I am cut off by the sound of Keane’s voice.

“Almost two thousand years.” He says cresting the window sill that had been left open from Fallon’s entry. Keane’s boots hit the floor with persistence.

He has changed from his suit to something more suitable for battle. His olive green cargo pants are tucked into his black steel toed boots and his long sword is secured across his back, the strap crossing his massive chest causing his black t-shirt to appear fitted. Inside I smile; this is how I remember my brother, not the suit wearing vamp I met.

Scarlet is slightly startled and grips her brother a little tighter.

“It’s okay, Scarlet this is Keane. He’s an old friend; he’s here to help us get your mom back, okay?” I see her relax her grip on Henri, who coos softly.

“Aye, we’re going to find your mom lass.” Keane says to Scarlet, but he seems to linger in her face.

“Keane, what is it?” I ask, looking at Scarlet.

“She looks like…Cian, don’t you see it? She looks like Maggie, brother.” His astonishment is overwhelming.

I close in on Scarlet who is somewhat embarrassed by all the attention and of course I never saw it before, she was always secluded or I was completely vexed by her mother but as I look on, she is almost the spitting image of my younger sister.

This is a strange revelation but I can’t be too bewildered I relinquished the privilege to know anything about my sister beyond the day I became what I am. I begin to wish I had spent more time with Scarlet. Is it possible that over the centuries my sister’s bloodline trickled into Louisiana and for that matter into Babet’s?

Of course in this world, our world; possibilities are unlimited, unhindered and endless. Just as the possibility that Madliene is behind this bull-shit. I am pulled from my inner thought and refocus on the many tasks at hand. It’s not a long walk from my warehouse to Morte’, we secure the building and precious cargo inside. I am vehemently worried for the children but I have to keep my mind on Madliene and the how and why of this deranged insanity.

For now I have the how what was left was to figure out the why. Motivation can be a dangerous thing but what motive would Madliene have for taking Babet, especially knowing the human woman’s connection to Estella, her once pride and joy. But for Madliene’s children, each one has experienced being her world, her utmost priority and so many have fallen from the proverbial grace of their mother.

For the moment it is Sophia, a dangerous and calculating fighter. I should know I trained the young vampire. And then there is Angelique, Sophia’s older sister and only link to her human life, who has been rogue for the past six months. If Angelique were here we may have an advantage to disarm Sophia but that is not a blessing we possess at the moment. Then we come to Xavier.

Created the same night as Sophia but unlike Sophia was forced to endure a human upbringing of violence and hatred prior to, he begged to be one of us for years, always being denied by Madliene. The animosity against our “Queen” is vast and the majority of it resided in her own home.

We are nearly to the door of the outer corridor when Keane reminds me where he’s been for fifty years, “I called Linde while I took care of Shi. His brother, he has always wanted revenge.” Keane’s mood is hard but ready. “I’ll wait here for him. Besides, even though we are ambushing her, it’s probably best you two go in ahead so it doesn’t seem that way.” Oh Keane. How I have missed my brother’s cunning tones.

I can’t help but smile to myself.
“Aye.” I say and Estella reaches for the door.

We crest the threshold and Morte’ is eerily quiet and clean of all human remains, alive or dead. There is no music throbbing the walls, nor light sequences to mystify and enchant. With the houselights up Morte’ was simply what it is, an old run down warehouse that’s been renovated. Estella looks to me as if she is attempting to gain confidence, I don’t show it, but at this moment I feel inept.

It matters not, she takes a deep breath and before we lurch forward we hear the clicking of heels above us in the balcony, her familiar yet disturbing voice rings in my ears like cannon fire, “Cian, Estella; it’s about time.” Madliene says her hands tracing the railing in front of her.

I can’t hold my tongue, “Enough fool’s errands Madliene, where is she?!” Estella whips her head in my direction, disappointed sympathy crossing her face. But I keep my eyes on Madliene.

Who doesn’t turn her gaze from mine either, “Who? Your little playmate?”
She laughs maniacally. “You know, Cian I send you in the right direction. I have her husband eliminated and burn her dwellings. Knowing what I know about her connection to Estella I place you both in her path, offer my own home to stash her and take Estella off protection duty in my greatest hopes you would lose control and kill the little bitch. But, no. You exhibit some insane control not to, even though I remove my enchantments from you and block Estella’s gifts. You even fucked her and showed her your monster, did you not?”

She stops hoping Estella will lash out at me, but she doesn’t. I can feel Estella mounting, but not in my direction. It’s all for Madliene, who has absentmindedly fucked herself with Estella.

Just then I feel another emotion enter the club, Keane and Linde have entered. Linde is projecting some serious animosity and Keane; I can feel is excited about the possibility of battle. Madliene straightens up and her eyes burn bright hazel, “Linde! How nice to see you, I suspect you are here to avenge your brother?”

She begins to head for the staircase but Linde’s Icelandic tone halts her, “Stay where you are she-devil. When we are ready to end you, you may join us, until then…” But she cuts him off with her demonic laughter, it’s a sickening sound.

“Fine, fine. As you wish.” She smiles
waving her hand around the air above her head and behind her; three of her former, fallen children appear behind her. Adewale; a hulking African man once Madliene’s lover and right hand, he was cast aside when his affections deterred from Madliene to Charra, who is also present behind Madliene. Charra is of Spanish decent, resembling Angelique and Sophia, with her long black curly hair and olive complexion. The two of them escaping the Queen’s grasp with little Dat, who is barely visible to us over the tall balcony. A Vietnamese boy Madliene changed during her travels through the tropical climate country; Dat had also grown tired of Madliene…eventually they all do.

Estella is more familiar with the three than I am and it seems as if she wants to call out to them, to hopefully squelch this, but as we all look further it’s obvious that the trio is under Madliene’s complete control. We are waiting for the catalyst, but hear another familiar voice enter the club.

“Aw, I’m late. What did I miss?” Fallon has entered still in his suit and I thankfully see his Morningstar unsheathed from its cylindrical container. Keane slaps Fallon on the back, elated to see him.

“And this must be Fallon.” Madliene says smiling at our chestnut haired brother who bows arrogantly, typical Fallon, but he is quickly straightens when Madliene speaks on, “So all that is missing is Finn, yes?”

Our faces all drop and I feel intense hate welling in Fallon but he keeps his composure for now. Her attempt to coax a reaction out of Fallon isn’t working and I can feel her calculating something else.

“This is a lovely gathering I must say and I am honored that so many of you have arrived to do what you think you can do. Cian, I think, it would be interesting to discuss why you feel a connection to sweet innocent Babet and then...” she rolls her eyes, “…you can have your say, and so on and so forth.” She is overly self-assured and stands very still, her face becoming increasingly more and more agitated; she clears her mind to address us all. Before she does, she wants entertainment.

She beckons Adewale who falls from the balcony railing, but before his feet hit the floor Fallon is a blur and unfortunately for the giant African, meets Fallon’s Morningstar. Adewale’s head is replaced by the handle of Fallon’s club, the spiked ball firmly implanted into his chocolate shoulders. This of course sparks a reaction in Charra who is shrieking like a banshee as she flies from the balcony circling us overhead. Fallon places his boot on Adewale’s back and we all hear a sucking pulling sound as he removes the Morningstar from Adewale’s body.
Fallon’s stance takes that of a baseball player, practice swinging before steadying himself for Charra’s attack.

Linde, however beats him to the punch, javelining a spear into the Spanish beauty before disappearing. Charra’s body falls and I hear a child sobbing from high above. Dat is mourning his adopted mother, but he doesn’t react. He remains sobbing and this infuriates Madliene who rolls her eyes.

Estella sees this, expecting her to hurt the boy, and begins to position to a crouch but straightens, still keeping her feet stance for attack, Madliene begins to spin her web again, “Why do you believe you are compelled to Babet’s side Cian?”

Linde, along with Keane, who had been in the middle with me and Estella, was now unseen throughout the club.

I turn to see Romeo and Damien almost hyperventilating along the East wall, Estella looks confused until Keane and Linde flank us, “We released it.” Keane says smiling. They had released the creature from the bowels of the club and the human boys were having difficulty avoiding death, I assume. Only Sophia remained Madliene’s last advantage. Dat was useless to her; she had left him an orphan once again.

From the corner of my eye I see Sophia enter with Xavier, her face observing like a stand by pawn in a chess game. But his is filled with rage and I wonder why it seems as though he is on our side.
“Sophia my darling.” Madliene’s voice is dripping with disgusting sweetness. Sophia places herself beside Madliene, while Xavier stands idle, but the “Queen” is not ready to use the girl yet and given my relationship with Sophia I am not ready to end her. In an attempt to possibly slow me down, Madliene in her desperation compels Romeo and Damien to pointlessly attack me and Estella. I snatch the boys by their throats. We had yet to see the creature emerge. And I wonder again, what Xavier’s stance is.



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Cian and the children...

She adjusts herself before beginning, “Firstly, I know everything. My mother doesn’t keep things from me like most mothers would and she said for my protection and Henri’s I had to know this and we had to devise a plan. She told me that if anything strange occurred and she went somewhere and didn’t return I was to take Henri and hide in the upstairs closet. He would have stayed quiet if I hadn’t been making faces at him to keep him entertained.” She stops and smiles at the boy, but soon resumes. Estella and I are in enraptured awe of the mature young lady.

“She said I was to wait for Cian to arrive and I would know when he does, because of his boots. Sorry, dude that is a distinct sound.” She smiles and I return the gesture. “I was supposed to come out and he would take care of things.”

I can feel Estella taking offense to Babet’s directions for Scarlet; after all she was family, not me. I look to Estella who knows at this moment to relax and listen.

“Where did your mother go?” I ask.

“She yelled from the bottom of the stairs that she would be back and to come watch Henri, when I came downstairs she was gone. I figured she was taking her drive.”

“What do you mean, her drive?”

“My mom likes to get away sometimes, she did this when Griffin was around too but she was usually only gone, maybe an hour at the most.”

Estella chimes in, “Where does she go?”

“She drives the 90; I’ve been with her once, when she and Griffin were fighting. She likes to drive really fast and listen to her music extremely loud. When she left tonight it was just before dusk, after an hour had passed and she didn’t come back, I grabbed Henri and hid.”

Estella and I take this all in and I recall Babet’s bath time activities and her drive to pick up the children from Griffin’s mother. The speed she was driving and her accuracy on the road indicated this was a habitual thing for Babet. I am proud yet slightly disappointed she felt the need to devise a plan for her children should something out of the ordinary happen. This proved to me that the young mother only trusted us at arm’s length.

Estella rises from the floor, Scarlet, Henri and I all watch as she visibly gathers herself, “I’m going to try again.”

She walks to the bottom of the stairs where Babet called to her daughter and began her trance to seek information. Her eyes go milky white and she puts her hands in front of her to feel the air and energy. She takes a deep breath and forces her gift from her body. I glance over to Scarlet who is just as enamored with Estella as she was with the teenager moments ago. Henri also watches and giggles occasionally.

“Oh baby! I got something!” Estella howls into the air. “I smell something familiar, I brought it out with me Cian, come over here.”

I walk over to where Estella is a virtual statue, “You recognize that?” She says looking to me, a glint of accomplishment in her eyes.

I take a gargantuan whiff of the air around Estella, “Aye, that is Romeo.” I turn and mimic her smile.

She looks behind her to the children and I do so as well, Scarlet is officially okay with us. She is smiling from ear to ear, “Do you know where my mom is?”
“We think we do and we are going to find out, but we have to get you both somewhere safe. If we leave you here, whoever took your mom may come back for you.” I say gingerly before asking, “Can you call Griffin’s mother, can we take you and Henri to her?”

Her face drops, “No!” It’s a response from Scarlet I don’t expect, she is adamant and I wonder why.

“Okay, can you tell me why?” I ask.

“She hates me, if you want to take Henri there, I will go with you to drop him off but I am not staying with that bitch.” Scarlet shakes her head and looks up to me and Estella, pleading in her eyes.

Estella never misses a beat, “Well, that settles that. Cian I don’t think we should separate them.”

“And where pray tell would you suggest taking them, the grandmother’s house is out, Babet’s friends Frankie and Molly that is a no go, and no need to involve them further. We cannot take them to the club…”

“I guess we are heading to your warehouse?” Estella asks cautiously and she can see I am less than fond of the idea. In fact I fucking hate it, but I of course relent.

“I suppose so, Scarlet how fast can you be ready to go?” I ask turning back to her.

The girl shoots up from the couch and opens a hall closet, on the floor behind the door are two black duffle bags, she scoops down to grab them and she then quickly shut the door, “We’re ready.”

Estella and I look at each other dumfounded at the extent Babet has gone to for her children’s safety.

I take a deep breath, “Okay, let’s go. Scarlet, where are your mom’s car keys?”

“They’re in her purse on the counter in the kitchen.” The teenager, turned temporary mother, picks up her brother as Estella fishes out Babet’s keys.

“Scarlet, you may want to visit the little girl’s room before you go, Cian doesn’t own a toilet.” Estella suggests.

The teenage girl looks over at me and I think I am about to be chastised by someone so young, but she smiles and shrugs her shoulders. She puts the bags down and places Henri on the floor. She turns on her heel and bolts upstairs. Before long she is back. “Ready.” She says confidently.

“Got the keys, let’s go.” Estella already has the front door open.

We secure Audubon, even though I want to burn this fucker to the ground. That little human bastard is going to pay, but I have to remember, he is not working on his own accord. Madliene is way past beginning to rub me the wrong way, but this has to be my straw. My back is broken and once the children are settled I am going to fucking kill that cunt.

I make a right onto Calliope and I can see in my haste I forgot to turn the overhead lights off at the warehouse, and I am not the only one who notices this.
There is a New Orleans police car in front of my haven. I attempt to park out of sight but because of the desertion of the area, on foot patrol he hears the engine of Babet’s Audi A6 and crests the corner.

Immediately he sees us and makes a bee-line for the car. I can feel Estella tensing up and becoming angry the closer Officer Dumas gets to the car. I am mirroring her emotions; this situation is going to waste more time.

“Rein it in Estella, let me handle this.” I say to her, she straightens herself as I roll the driver’s side window down to talk to the policeman. “Evening Officer.” I am so fucking charming but he’s not buying it.

“What are you folks doing out here?” His tone is arrogant and I feel Estella mounting.

I grab her hand like a husband would do and turn back to the Officer, “We were checking out the area, I heard these renovated warehouses are fantastic loft apartments. I think we made a wrong turn somewhere back there.” I chuckle, increasing the ruse of human absentmindedness.

The Officer immediately becomes friendly, so much so, he gets comfortable placing his hand on the door and I internally sigh in relief, “Oh yeah, my cousin is working on those. I heard they’re expensive though, shoo wee.”

We all laugh but he’s not finished with us. I look in the rear view; Scarlet has her own ruse cooking. The ruse of a cell phone addicted teenager, it’s not a far stretch. Henri has fortunately fallen asleep in his car seat.

“Say, you ain’t from around here are ya?” He laughs at his cleverness.

“Uh, no sir I am Scottish but my lovely wife is a local.” I draw this statement out to hopefully grab his attention, it works. I have him in my gaze, he’s putty. I place my hand on his, “Officer Dumas, you have secured this area. The lights in the warehouse are a malfunction of wiring. You may go now.”

Officer Dumas is pliable, “Yeah…you, you folks have a nice evening.” He says staggering off toward his cruiser. I turn to Estella and smile, Scarlet in my rearview is also smiling. We wait for Officer Dumas to vacate the premises, we then exit the car. I take the children’s duffle bags as Scarlet retrieves Henri from his seat, the baby still fast asleep. Estella cradles her arm around the two as we enter, quickly closing the door behind us.



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