Chapter 10: Reborn

Eric entered Godric's quaint home. It was small, but nice, located in a quiet pocket of the garden district. But for anyone just walking by they would never guess one of the world's oldest vampires lived here. Especially one who sat at the head of the table of the Vampire Council. So many of today's vampire rules and commands had been birthed within these wooden walls. His Maker was sitting in the dining room turned office, not a thought behind his eyes as he scrolled down his laptop. Eric often doubted if Godric actually enjoyed the power of controlling the world.

"You look like shit," Eric said out of habit, laying down on the living room couch and throwing his legs up on the armrest. His Maker actually looked fine for once.

"The next Vampire Summit is going to be the true death of me," Godric muttered annoyed, shutting his computer closed with a snap. "So, have you calculated our next move?"

"Well, the friendly route didn't go very far, so we'll have to go ahead and be… Unfriendly."

Godric gave him a stern look from behind his desk. They had discussed the possibility of doing a hostile takeover before. New Blood would acquire Bonne Nuit against the Bellefleur's wishes by either buying out all their shareholders or replacing their directors with their own. It would be turbulent and messy, but it could also be… Undeniably fun.

"What does Pamela think about this?" he asked.

Eric shot him a lazy glance before pulling his phone out of his pocket. Hunting for blood had become quite different since the Great Revelation. Now you can find all kinds of tasty treats on dating apps and matching platforms with just the swipe of your thumb. "She doesn't like it."

"And why is that?" He frowned.

"Hostile takeovers are too public, and we would be acquiring Bonne Nuit completely blind. For all we know, their books could be far worse than their parent company."

Catalantica was the real reason behind the acquisition, but the world still needed vampire glass to be manufactured and installed. Tanking the company or being neglectful of it was not in anyone's best interest.

"Ah," Godric leaned back into his chair. "So there is someone in this family who thinks with their upstairs brain."

Interesting for Godric to say that. Was he thinking with his upstairs brain? Eric hid his smirk as he cataloged that thought away. Something was going on with his Maker and he wanted more information on the mysterious feeding that Godric wasn't willing to speak of.

"You must not know Pamela very well then," Eric murmured to himself. "Plus, it's not the glass we care about, remember? It's those fucking eye drops. We are just holding Bonne Nuit hostage, that's all."

"No, that's not all Eric. Pamela is right, if this trends badly in the media it can set vampire-human relations back decades."

"It's my face on TV, not yours," Eric assured him firmly.

Godric was purposefully not a public figure. He was far more efficient moving in behind the grand stage of the media, and letting the collective behaviour of vampires speak for itself. With New Blood containing medication for V-infected vampires, there hadn't been mass attacks in years. Now any rogue vampire that is caught playing with their food is written as 'one-offs', stand-alone unrelated incidents that do not speak of the entirety of the vampire race. The Council remained secret, but it had a whole PR team that glamoured just the right people to keep the narrative this way. It was one of the monumental reasons why they were doing any of this in the first place.

Anti-glamour technology had been quite the thorn in his flesh since Truman Burrell was Governor a decade ago. Contact lenses had been an unpleasant surprise, but as soon vampires figured out where they were being secretly manufactured, the owner of the company mysteriously jumped off a cliff, right after their plant burnt down - you get the gist. But then, Calantica popped up. All thanks to Mommy Bellefleur, the scientist who founded Bonne Nuit labs. And now the eyedrops were manufactured somewhere in that very building. Catching up with technology was like playing a never-ending always-losing game of whack-a-mole.

So much death, pain and suffering could have been avoided if they could have glamoured and controlled the right people at the right time. Nora would be alive. Tara would be alive. All their blood bonds would be intact. Eric's mind would have been whole still. So much blood was spilled, of his own and of everyone he loved.

They both knew they could not let this nonsense go on, not when the future of their entire race was at stake. The means didn't matter, as long as they won Calantica in the end.

"So when are you announcing your tender offer?"

"End of the week when their stock stabilizes. New Blood will be offering 600 million dollars for Bonne Nuit founders and directors, and 60 dollars a share to buy everyone else out," Eric said mindlessly, only now realizing he had only swiped right for brunettes all evening.

That would total around 850 million. The 1 billion offer was only on the table if the Bellefleurs wanted to play nice, which Rebecca had made very clear they wouldn't. She was a smart woman, but after that little stunt at Tara's, he now understood how her brain worked. All she did was buy herself some time to kiss the asses of her board members and key shareholders, begging them not to accept Eric's tender offer. He would spend that time learning all there was to learn about the Bellefleurs, diving deep into their dirty secrets. No one became billionaires in two generations without having a few skeletons in the closet. And for that, he would employ his secret weapon.

"Is Willa around?" Eric asked, while his thumb still involuntarily swiped right on any attractive brunette that came across his screen.

"It astounds me how little connection you have with your youngest," Godric stood up slowly, mildly shaking his head.

They had this argument so many times Eric almost knew it by heart. When Godric and Pamela were captured by the LAVTF and sent to a vampire prison camp, Eric turned Willa, the Governor's daughter, in a desperate attempt to make Burrell see his own cruelty. However, he had the whole deck stacked against him and had to trade Willa's release for information, despite her being only a few nights old. He would never forget the look of disappointment on Godric's face after he told him what he had done. No one should be made a vampire for personal or political gain, and he knew that despite Willa consenting to it, she had no idea what she had signed up for. And that included her own release. He should have never let her go. The outcome would have been the same: the lab doctors would have forced him to release her to study the physical effects of the phenomenon. The guilt he held in cold dead heart was a twisted one, either way. Eric didn't have any dominion over her, and it also blocked him off sensing any of Willa's emotions and needs. He had to raise his youngest completely blind which made it borderline impossible. It didn't help that she was also impossibly stubborn.

After they burned Burrell's camp to the ground, Eric had taken quite the hands-off approach in raising her which Godric also highly disapproved of. But in his defence, he had rather bigger problems on his plate at the time, like making sure the vampire zombie apocalypse didn't happen while battling his inner demons and, a broken heart and a broken mind. Regardless, Eric knew he had failed her in every way. He told himself Willa had quite the natural instincts of a vampire and just let Godric take her under his wing. Ten years later Willa had yet to desert them, and other than being much saucier than he'd like, she seemed to help Godric more than he seemed to realize. It was a good thing they lived together and she sought his guidance when she needed it.

As if on cue, his progeny walked into the room, wearing a flowy white dress that reminded him of the night when he turned her. Willa was undeniably beautiful - and brunette. Maybe this wasn't the Bellefleur girl's influence after all.

"Ah, speak of the devil, and she shall appear."

"See that's funny, coming from Satan himself," she was unimpressed.

"It's Mr. Satan to you," he replied, annoyed with her attitude already. He just wished she liked him even a little. "I have a task for you."

"What do you want?"

"I need you to use your connections to find everything you can about the Bellefleur girls," Eric told her. If Willa was good at one thing, it was buttering up people for information.

She rolled her eyes like a teenager. "Haven't I told you all about them? Our parents were long-time friends, I basically watched those two grow up."

"Knowing what country and yacht club they belong to and a distaste for oysters isn't all that helpful. We need the dirt. How about you go talk to the bartender at Tara's? He seemed to know you."

"Bartender? That's James Kent, don't you remember him?"

"Why would I remember him?"

"From…" She slightly frowned. "Nevermind. Look, Eric, I have more important shit to do than participate in this weird stalker foreplay thing you do with your sexual conquests. Can this wait?"

"Does it sound like I'm asking?" He looked up from his phone and shot her an icy-cold look.

Willa's lips turned into a fine rose-colored line and she glared back at him. But before she could say a rude and snarky comeback, Godric spoke. "It's of the utmost importance that there are no more surprises in Eric's path, Willa. If we are to proceed with the acquisition we need to know exactly what we are dealing with here. The last thing we need is to be perceived as hostile. You can get more information on the elder sister, and leave the younger sister to me."

Her features softened at Godric's tone, which made Eric even more irritated. "Fine," she said, raising her chin at Eric. "I'll see what I can find. Lord knows Eric's ego can't take much humbling, otherwise he might actually die."

"Go already!" He snarled.

She took heavy-footed steps out of the room and slammed the front door loudly on her way out. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise at the feeling of Godric watching him. His cold bitter eyes were disapproving. He looked… Hungry, and his request to leave Katherine Bellefleur to him did not go unnoticed.

"What's your plan for the younger sister?" Eric asked, hoping he gleaned a little more insight into his maker's mindset.

"The oldest pulls the strings, of that we know. If we need information on Rebecca's personal life, who better to ask than the girl's own sister?" Godric replied, cool and calculating.

"What? You're gonna glamour the secrets right out of her, are you?" Eric sat up straight. They were the daughters of the creator of Calantica, and neither made it this far in the vampire market by being careless.

"No, I won't glamour information out of her. I will befriend her."

Eric cocked a brow at the absurd thought of Godric befriending a human. It was the weirdest thing he heard all week, and he had a billion-dollar offer turned down. "You said she was a genius, won't she see through that immediately?"

"Perhaps, but I can be very charming," Godric gave him a sly grin, and it all suddenly felt like a mask.

"Charming enough to bite her?"

"No," he answered plainly. "That could put our plans in jeopardy."

Eric didn't buy it, not after last night. Little to no interest in feeding for thirty years and then suddenly this? Godric wouldn't tell him what happened when he was alone with Katherine Bellefleur, but he did offhandedly say she didn't taste sweet as she wasn't diabetic. And judging by his rosy complexion and how he stared at her all night from their club booth, there was certainly more going on here than he was leading Eric to believe.

Eric couldn't decide on the reason why his Maker was hiding the truth. Were some of Godric's old mischievous ways seeping back in, or was all this a ruse meant to throw Eric off? And throw him off of what? He could drain every Bonne Nuit researcher dry for all he cared. But Eric had been hounding Godric for years about his sustained lack of appetite, and now when perhaps he was interested again… He acted aloof? That this was all for the sake of a business acquisition?

Two could play in this game. Eric knew how to call his bluff.

"Ah," Eric grinned and then returned to swiping through his phone. "Judging that you fed last night, I am glad to see that you have refound your appetite."

Even if he couldn't understand the appeal. It took Eric a moment to notice that Godric was frozen, still processing his words.

"It's for our plans, Eric, nothing more," Godric told him, and Eric wondered if he was also trying to convince himself.

"Of course," he nodded. "Then you wouldn't object to coming out with me tonight?" Eric turned his phone and showed Godric the screen; the photo of the beautiful brunette he just matched with was brightly displayed. Let's see if he has also developed a taste for them lately. "If you're so eager."

Godric's gaze felt like stone. "I have much to do, the night and short and I don't have the hours to spend corvoting with you."

Eric stood slowly, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "And yet… you are finding the time to charm the baby genius Bellefleur. Is it really for the sake of our plan, Godric?"

A muscle jumped in Godric's jaw, it was the only indication that Eric could see that he had gotten under his skin.

"We need these drops out of the way, Eric. That is all."

Bull fucking shit.

"Ah, yes. The consummate professional. And do let me know, if you consummate?"

Eric left the house and escaped with the last word and a wide smirk.

Much to her relief, her Uber driver was not a talker. Willa rose in such a good mood earlier but it had been quickly squashed by Eric's bullshit. Sure, he may be right and they have the world to save (again) or whatever, but the incessant working and scheming, and all the never-ending plotting was getting to her last nerve. She'd been a vampire for over a decade now and she barely even got to enjoy it. All she did was work, from sun down to sun up. Oftentimes Willa wished she lived in California with Pam. If only she weren't such a bitch.

Tara's was not too far from where they lived, just a 20-minute drive from the Garden District to Marigny where a lot of the jazz and nightclubs were. She didn't mind going out alone, but she did feel silly going to the same club again so soon, especially on a Monday - but Google assured her the place opened at 7 PM, 7 nights a week. When the car pulled up, the place was significantly quieter than the night prior. Tara's was open, but there was no line-up at the door. The bouncer checked her ID, which was the joke of the century knowing she would probably get carded for literal eternity.

When she entered the place felt completely different. Maybe it was due to being early, maybe it was the lack of a DJ at the booth, but the lights were lit brighter and vampires filled the bar stools and booths, New Bloods in hand all around. Calm music played in the background while some of the patrons chatted quietly. Others were reading alone or seemed to be working on their laptops. This looked like a vampire coffee shop disguised as a nightclub.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. Again," James instantly spotted her.

"What is this? Sad Hour?" Willa asked him, who was busy restocking the kegs under the bar counter.

His handsome face popped up behind the beer taps. Not that she expected him to change, they were both vampires after all, but he looked just as he did 10 years ago. Same long hair, the same facial hair, same dog tag hanging around his neck.

He smiled. "No entourage tonight?"

"No, just me," she shook her head. Thank God.

He squinted slightly for a second before resuming the keg handling. "What can I get you? New Blood?"

Ew. "I'm fine, thank you. Actually, I came here to-"

They were suddenly interrupted by two vampires who leaned against the other end of the bar. "Yo, James!"

He seemed to recognize the duo, nodded and pulled a 6 pack of New Blood on the counter, which they simply took and exited the club, no questions asked. No payment either.

"You don't charge for those?"

"They have hep V."

"Question stands."

His spine straightened and he closed the cabinet under the counter with an air of annoyance, stowing the fresh kegs away. "What can I get the darling Willa Burrell tonight?"

Willa's fangs almost dropped out of fear. She did a quick scan around Tara's, making sure no one had overheard what he had just said.

"It's Willa Thompson now," she corrected him immediately.

Maybe humans weren't aware, or maybe they had already forgotten, but every vampire in the world knew of the atrocities her father had done against their kind. She disavowed her father's name and to this day felt a deep shame to even share genes with that man. It was the main reason why she had agreed to become Eric Northman's progeny. It was a rare thing to have the opportunity to be reborn into a new, much more honourable family and detach herself from so much hate, ignorance, racism and the most vile legacy. Even though this family was still a somewhat dysfunctional one.

"I'm looking for answers, mostly," she continued.

James sighed. "About?"

"Rebecca Bellefleur."

His brown eyes stared at her with laser focus. After a suspiciously long pause, he simply replied: "She's friends with Lafayette."

"Oh," Willa frowned, finally taking a seat at the bar.

It was strange to picture the two becoming friends since they had come from such different backgrounds. Lafayette came from the backwater swamps of Northern Louisiana, grew up poor with a mentality unfit mother, didn't finish high school, worked multiple day jobs and was even… A prostitute for a while. It didn't mesh with the elite upbringing she knew the Bellefleur girls had. What could they possibly have in common?

"How did they meet?" She asked sweetly.

James's heart-melting smile crept up as he leaned over the counter, putting his handsome face two inches away from hers. It made her blush.

"How about you go ahead and ask what it is you really want to know?"

Just then another vampire came by and James handed her a full case of New Blood.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem."

Willa watched the vampire head up to the mezzanine with her 6 pack. The woman took a seat in the booth next to the one they sat at two nights ago. She pulled an iPad from her purse, put on headphones, cracked a blood bottle open and settled in comfortably watching the screen. This place had the familiar energy of a college campus lounge where students just quietly hung out but with a depressing aura.

"Do you know her?" Willa asked James, but he simply shook his head. Her brows creased, watching the bar for a moment. "Then why did you give her a full case of New Blood without charging her?"

"I told you, they have hep V. If they don't drink it, they die."

Willa did another scan of the bar. Every table and booth was filled with vampires, every table had bottles from full to empty of synthetic blood.

"You're telling me you give out New Blood for free?"

"Yes," he spoke as if it were the universe's most basic question.

"To anyone who's sick?"

"Correct."

"What if they lie?"

He made a face. "Why the hell would anyone drink this stuff unless they needed the medicine in it?"

Her brain still wasn't quite computing it. "What if they lie and just re-sell it?"

"Why would anyone buy it if I give it to the whole city for free?"

Willa worked mostly with Godric and the Council but she shadowed Eric and Pamela enough through the years to know this was an absurdly unsustainable business model. New Blood sold licensed sellers a 6-pack of synthetic blood for 108 US dollars wholesale price. Now multiply it to feed the entire sick vampire population of New Orleans…

"You're telling me you single-handedly supply New Blood to all of New Orleans? How the hell do you pay for all of this?!"

James opened the sanitizer and pulled out a rack of freshly clean glasses and started polishing out the water stains with a cloth.

"I'll give you one guess and a hint. She's 5 foot 8 and puts the 'hot' in hot mess."

No fucking way. "Rebecca Bellefleur? But why?"

He started placing the clean glasses on the counter in a perfectly neat row. "The cynical answer is because she needs our race alive to have a business and research subjects."

Makes sense, but financially it didn't. It must cost her hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to buy New Blood for everyone. UV glass can't be that profitable. "And the truth?"

James sighed. "The truth is that I got sick and Lafayette just asked. And because they are friends and she has an unlimited money pit she said yes."

A small knot tightened in her stomach hearing that James had fallen ill. The infection rate was higher every night, and vampires who didn't have access to the medication grew erratic and hostile, eventually leaving a trail of bodies behind them for the Council to find. Their end was swift and fatal. And the worst of it, was that Willa and her whole family were immune, having drank the antidote living in her step-mother Sarah. But that was a secret they kept under lock and key, and a very elite handful of vampires had taken the antidote or even knew about it.

"Just like that? No strings attached?" She asked, forcing herself to look at the sick man in front of her, whom she wasn't allowed to save.

He nodded. "All she ever asks is a standing reservation for her booth," he nodded up to the mezzanine. "Everyone knows it's hers. Except for you and your nest, apparently."

James had pointed to the same red leather U-shaped couch Eric, Willa and Godric sat in on Saturday. Right now, despite Tara's being almost full, it continued to sit vacant.

"Is that why everyone was staring at us last night? Why didn't anyone say anything?"

James scoffed with sarcastic laughter. "You really think someone was going to go up to Eric Northman and ask him to move? Man, the world you live in must be fascinating."

She didn't appreciate his tone. "And the world you live in is delusional! Do you even know how much profit you could be making right now? You could own ten Tara's, or even franchise it like Fangtasia did."

"Off profiting from the sick?" He asked with a pointed voice.

She had her Maker's temper grow inside of her like wildfire. It was strange wanting to tear his head off after what went through together. There was a time when she considered him a brother.

"It's not all about the money-"

"Then tell me, what is it about, Willa?" James' eyes looked at her with the intensity of actual fire. "Keeping the masses sick, withholding the cure and controlling an entire race by making them buy a license to stay alive all while lining your pockets? I guess you are your father's daughter after all."

Willa stood boldly, and her fangs came down viciously. "I am nothing like my father! I gave my life to do what was right, you know that!"

"You're right, Willa, I misspoke," his voice dropped into a deadly whisper. "You are your Maker's daughter."

AN:

oooooh the plot thickenssss

As much as I like theatrical drama, I LIVE for a quieter type of conflict. I hope everyone is have a good 2024 so far :)

til next time!

Spice