Chapter 13: Aquarius

It was Friday night and an unusually cold wind blew from the sea. She felt the air of New Orleans kiss her face, neck and bare thighs while her long hair mimicked the waves of the sea. Becca watched the people go by below on the streets from the top floor veranda. It had rained earlier so everything was wet, and everyone at Rosie's was partying inside. But that wasn't the people on the streets. There always was live music playing in the streets, with people dancing and laughing all over the old cobblestones. Her elbows leaned on the ornate wrought iron railings, a glass of white wine dangling between her fingers in one hand, her thumb scrolling her phone in the other. One miscalculated move, and either could drop on the crowd below. Still, she played the mind-numbing game, trying to forget the world.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Nat laughed, her uncoordinated drunkenness making her take a step too many, and her body landed a little too heavily against the iron railing. Her head came too close to hitting the hanging fern, but its leaves still caught on her beautiful blonde hair.

"Fresh air," she smiled at her best friend.

"Oh," Nat stood up straight, regaining composure and wiping the fern off her hair. After one deep breath, she was already bored. She was like that. "Are you granting a lucky man parole?" Nat nodded at her phone.

When you grow up with the same group of friends since girlhood you create your own little language. 'Granting parole' was what they called unblocking a previous toxic hookup and sending him a text.

"I'm nowhere near drunk enough," Rebecca laughed back, putting her wine and phone down at the cocktail table and gently untangling fern leaves out of Nat's hair.

"Come inside! There are some really cute Scottish tourists at the bar. Zelds called dibs on the ginger one though."

She laughed. "What is her obsession with redheads?"

"I think Ron Weasley might have been her sexual awakening… So, are you coming inside for a last drink before we head to Karaoke or not?"

Rebecca smiled at Natalie, feeling nothing but gratitude. She was in such a bad mood after the board meeting, that not even firing Kyle Wilson made it better. It was the kind of bad mood a man could most definitely not fix. But hanging out with Zelda and Natalie helped a bit. And karaoke helped a lot.

A growing part of her wished she could vent about her day to her friends, but none of them would get it. They grew up going to the same schools and country clubs, and their families were more or less in the same tax bracket, but none of them ended up the same way. Neither Samantha, Zelda or Natalie had jobs. Nathalie and Zelda both dropped out of college, and Sam managed to graduate but married right after and became a housewife. Sam was on the committee for her family's charity foundation, but that required only a few hours a month. Despite all four girls growing up at Rebecca's house part-time, her dad only ever asked about Sam, the only one who had the good sense to follow the script for Southern Belles written by God and the American Dream.

"I'll be there soon."

But that was the thing with best friends - they saw straight through you. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Work, the usual."

"Bell tech again?" Nat sighed, adjusting her low-cut top. "I swear to God, I've never seen someone with such a fat trust fund worry so much. Just quit and go find something that makes you happy."

See?

"Bonne Nuit does make me happy."

Nat glared at her from under her mink lashes. "Right. Being your sister's keeper is your passion."

That had especially stung after what she had done earlier that day. "Wow, hold on a fucking second - I am not my-"

"Oh really?"

"Yes really! And I can prove it."

"How?"

"Kate is dating, and I have nothing to do with it."

Natalie's eyes and mouth opened wide and she took two dramatic steps back. "No fucking way!"

"Yes, way. She asked me to set her up on Raya and off she went. Hands off the wheels, I swear."

"Holy fucking shit! Do you think Katie will lose her nerd powers when she finally loses her V card?"

Oh. The thought of her awkward little sister doing the deed was sobering. "I don't think she's a virgin."

"She isn't?"

"She's 26 Nat, I sure fucking hope not."

"I mean, if she lost it at college she might as well be intact. MIT boys can't fuck for shit."

"Hear hear," Becca took another sip of her wine. The topic of conversation was becoming too weird. "Anyway, go save Zelda from moving to Scotland. I'll be inside soon."

Nat laughed and went back inside to the pub where people laughed carelessly in the way you only could on Friday nights. Rebecca took long sips of her white wine, trying to wash down the idea of Kate becoming a sexual creature. Her focus went into her phone, scrolling down a list of names. She wasn't desperate enough to grant anyone parole… Yet. No, she would try her roster first - it's why she drafted them in the first place.

The real party was fully alive down on the streets. There were tons of people down there, dancing, singing, drinking and slowing traffic. She had no idea why anyone even bothered to drive in the main drags of this town at night.

She was mid-typing a text to Patrick, her driver, when she heard an engine roar down below. There was a wide and low matte black sports car rolling over the cobblestone slowly, revving the engine to clear the road off pedestrians. People moved, and stared at whatever rich asshole drove the tacky car. People in her circles talked about cars a lot, and Rebecca generally studied these topics to make good small conversations with businessmen. But the beast rumbling below she did not recognize. It must be European. It pulled to the entrance of Rosie's and three valets rushed to the driver's door, squabbling over who got to spend ten minutes with a car worth more than their lifetime's earnings.

The black slim door opened and out came a shadow just as dark. The driver stood a foot taller than everyone else, his golden streaked hair brushed back. His eyes looked up straight at the gallery as if he had finally found what he had long been looking for.

"What the-" Becca muttered under her breath, stepping away from the railing.

His blue eyes startled her, sending her world into a tailspin. It was Eric Northman who stepped out of that car. The vampire was unmistakable. She turned on her heels, thoughts sharp and locked on a new mission: moving her friends to a different location before he saw them. Or worse: they saw him. A sudden gust of wind kissed her skin but in a much hungrier manner. A few of the ferns swayed in their chains, spooked by the dark shadow that materialized itself right in front of her eyes. He was standing on the balcony.

"You." Rebecca glowered, as if accusing him of the worst crime imaginable.

"You remember me, how sweet," he gave her a cocky smile from above, as the man was 8 feet tall. He eyed her, delighted. "What's a pretty lady like you doing all by herself out here?"

The wine must have taken over because her knees felt weak. Rebecca looked down at the car, now slowly driving through the streets, then back at the vampire standing in front of her. "How the hell did you get up here?"

He stepped into the light, his features were breathtaking. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"I thought you were all too familiar with what vampires could do," his voice was poised, but the way he looked at her was nothing but undignified. "Or maybe… Not."

Rebecca was no stranger to male attention, or flirting with any gender, flavour or dark corner. But she was out of her depth with… Him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the lack of it but she felt completely unarmed.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled, "Now that you ask, I might have some things to add to the acquisition list, princess."

She scoffed, irked at the word. Never mind that she didn't want to deal with any more work bullshit today, Rebecca had zero patience left for men being men today. "Don't call me that, you creep."

Eric laughed. "Well, but isn't that a title you hold? Princess of the South 2011?"

Her blood boiled at the vampire's cruel humour. She grew up with a father who completely disregarded her pageantry and a brother who viciously mocked it. Rebecca spent a decade trying to make people forget that part of her life even existed. Fifteen years later she had grown past her family's bullying. She was no longer ashamed of any of it. She liked competing, and she liked pretty things. There was no shame in femininity. Styling dresses, fundraising for charity, working on her singing and her speeches, and going head-to-head with some of the smartest and most beautiful and charismatic girls in the country who were just as ambitious as she was. Having her mom pick her shoes.

"Wow, pretty impressive you can use Google." Her voice was flat.

He smiled with his lips shut, pleased that he had successfully annoyed her. They stood still for a moment, studying each other's silence, caught in between the party inside and the one downstairs. Laughter and music clashed everywhere around them, but there was not a sound between the two strangers on that New Orleans balcony.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked, softening his smile.

"No," she had to bite back the habitual follow-up thank you. She certainly wasn't fucking thankful for anything he had ever offered. "Again, what do you want?"

"A meeting with you, which is apparently impossible according to your assistant."

"I'm busy," she smiled sourly.

He looked at her from her thighs up, slowly. Carefully. "Clearly."

Ignoring the sudden heat she felt, she had to get his eyes off her body. "So you decided to stalk me instead? How did you even know where I was?"

"A vampire doesn't reveal his secrets, princess."

Rebecca had to fight the urge to roll her eyes so she turned her body away from him. She wouldn't wear her disgust on her sleeve. Although to be honest, it wasn't all disgust. Rebecca finished her wine in one go, the glass sweating from the condensation so much it made her hand wet. "You wanted to meet, I'm here. Let's be done with it."

"Did the board accept my offer?"

His question was inevitable, but yet the empty wine glass she held almost slipped away from her fingers. She took a good look at him - wide shoulders, slim frame. Sharp jawline, straight but strong nose and stunning cheekbones. It was as if this man was calculated and carefully crafted in a lab. His eyes were the most entrancing of all - deep blue, with a tint of pink on the lower lashes. A trait all vampires carried, according to her sister. If he wasn't who he was, she would have climbed him like a tree. It was karmic cruelty that they couldn't even hate fuck.

And they couldn't, because Eric was deep and thick into the corporate game she lived and breathed and there were black-and-white rules to be followed. But from everything she remembered of their meeting - Eric didn't play by the rules and that made him dangerous. He knew a lot more than he should - like Bellefleur Tech's position. She had investigated his allegations, and he had been strangely and concerningly correct. They weren't doing so hot financially, and the forecast looked stormy across the board. Which meant either her dad was hiding secrets, or didn't trust her with this information. And worse, it meant Eric Northman had a way in, some sort of mole or spy, somewhere, somehow - that went beyond her own reach. Leading her to conclude one thing: the vampire already knew about the board's decision. He was here to negotiate - and taunt - but mostly negotiate.

"No, they didn't accept it," she crossed her arms. It wasn't a lie. "No board seats."

"But I get everything else?" He cocked a brow, a bit too eager at the idea.

And that was precisely the problem, wasn't it? Everything else. Her mother's legacy, the company she grew, her sister's research and life's purpose - hell - both their purposes. Everyone had told Rebecca to let it go so many times before Eric Northman had even come along. She had more money than she knew what to do with, but that's not what fueled her.

Power fueled her. And giving that up would mean losing everything.

"Let me make something very clear to you: I rather fucking sell to the Blackstone vipers than to sell anything to you."

"Ouch," he smiled, touching his chest with his large hand.

Eric leaned closer, pushing Rebecca's back into the railing. Memories of his body pressing against her at Tara's came rushing in. The ocean's breeze enveloped them both, causing her skin to shiver. Yeah, the wind. It was definitely the wind.

"70 a share, no board seats," he whispered looking directly at her lips. That was 1.23 billion. Shit - "And you stay on."

There are only three ways for a hostile takeover to take place: a toehold acquisition, where Eric Northman would buy every share of Bellefleur Tech possible until he became big enough that he could sue them if a sale offer was shut down. Their shares were protected from that, as they had a poison pill place: if anyone buys too much, the stock immediately dilutes itself.

The second option was a proxy fight: add board members to Bellefleur Tech - which he had asked for - to sway future decisions to his favor. If he got those board seats Northman could do a lot more than just buy Bonne Nuit off Bellefleur Tech - it would be like letting the fox in the hen house.

But what Eric was doing was a tender offer. A premium and public offer, beyond the current market value that would cut Bonne Nuit out of Bellefleur Tech and merge it into Satan's Holdings or whatever the hell his company was called. If his offer was good enough, the board must accept it otherwise our shareholders could sue us for failing to meet fiduciary duty. On the other hand, convincing or bribing current board members was a current worry of Rebecca, and it was what she had spent too much of her time lately doing: wineing and dining, pulling in favors and sending exquisite gifts to the current board to feel out the waters and secure their loyalty to the living Bellefleur name.

But that wasn't a very sustainable plan long term. Her next tactic was to either make Bonne Nuit worth a lot more than Eric could possibly buy, or… She would have to sink her own ship so deep that Eric would lose interest or be blocked by his own investors from making the purchase.

As she almost lost herself in his dangerously stunning blue eyes, she remembered something - a footnote detail he failed to bring it again, and she doubted it was because the vampire forgot. He wanted Calantica. Rebecca had used the eyedrops, made in Bellefleur Tech's own labs, every single afternoon since she was 12. It was the very reason why he couldn't hypnotize her into singing the deal right here and now. Which also meant the pull she felt towards the vampire was entirely of her own making.

"I am not what you want," she wished out loud, hoping he would say it. She needed to hear it.

"And what do I want, princess?"

"Tell me to jump off this balcony. Tell me to sign the company over to you on a napkin," she boldly dared him. "Order me to be yours, right now, vampire," she tilted her neck back, exposing her neck inches aways from his lips.

His smile faded away, but his eyes were deadlocked on her veins.

"You know you can't," she stood back up straight. "And I know you can't. And that is what you really want, Eric Northman. You want power."

Just like her.

"Smart girl," he stepped back, pulling away from her. Thank God. "But what I really want is the glass. Don't underestimate your worth Miss Bellefleur."

The vampire retreated back into the shadows of the balcony, as the laughter inside the bar grew. The music hadn't stopped, but their dance was over.

"Make me CEO then," Rebecca called out, with a full chest. "If you value me so much."

She had no idea how or why she could even say those words. Was it a dare, a betrayal or had she lost her fucking mind?

All she knew was that pushing his buttons was pure euphoria, wildfire running through her veins.

Eric stood at the very edge, where the balcony wrapped around the building. She knew he would jump back down to the street from where he came. He stopped momentarily, hand on the iron post, as if thinking on it.

"Do I get to call you princess?" He looked back at her.

"No, you really don't."

The edges of his lips curled, and just like an ocean breeze - he was gone with the wind.

Terry insisted on filling up the gas tank that night, for reasons Kate was too sleepy to understand. Whenever he did this, he dropped her off at the front of the house, instead of pulling in the back alley where the garage and guest house where she lived were. This meant Kate had to walk through Rebecca's house, cross the courtyard, then finally drop dead on her bed. The conversation with Godric had kept her up for far too long in the lab. Five minutes with him had given her brain a boost of acetylcholine, dopamine and norepinephrine that filled her with pure drive. Half deep in thought, creating a data processing algorithm to crack her mother's code, half reminiscing his silvery eyes.

She walked inside expecting blissful silence, hoping that her sister would either be asleep, or still be out. But instead she found a mountain of high heels tossed by the front door that were not her sister's style because the pairs were black, and Becca never wore black. Her face immediately scrunched.

The plastics were home.

Kate sighed, commanding her body to remain awake for five more minutes, just to skip through the pleasantries of saying hello to her sister's obnoxious friends. Zelda, Natalie and Samatha weren't bad people, or at least not on purpose. They were just extroverted, loud, and kind of stupid. They believed in astrology for God's sake! Kate had no idea why her sister still hung out with her friends from childhood, maybe it was just the familiarity of it all. But honestly, other than attending the same middle school, Rebecca shared nothing in common with them and they led very different lives. And that was a good thing.

"Katie!" The girls burst out from the living couch.

For better or worse, it was just her sister, Zelda and Natalie present. She now remembered that since Samantha married some guy named Andrew she didn't go out as often, much to her sister's disappointment. There were wine coolers and empty glasses on every piece of furniture, littered between lip glosses, vape pens, tiny purses that fit nothing, hoop earrings and bottles of gatorade. When Kate intruded like this, she was never sure if the party was over or had just just started.

"Hello," she said quietly, taking her shoes off.

Her flats looked abnormally childish next to the other shoes.

"Oh my God, Becca told us you're on Raya! How's that going? Have you had any matches?" Natalie started. She loved asking questions, just never any meaningful ones.

"Shut the fuck up, Katie is on Raya?" Zelda repeated, jaw dramatically open.

Her sister was the only one who remained silent. She looked cozy, seated on the loveseat, bare legs tucked under her. From here, it looked like she wore a blouse and no pants, but she knew her dress was just very short and not meant for any position other than standing, but since she was home, she could relax. Apparently there's such a thing as "standing" clothes. Kate was never a fan of impracticality, fashion or otherwise.

"I set it up for her," Rebecca smiled, her eyelids heavy with alcohol.

"Let me see!"

The two girls excitedly rushed over to Kate, demanding her phone with their grabby hands. She never had a chance. Much to her surprise, the girls gently grabbed her too, and dragged Kate into their living room nest. Zelda and Natalie suddenly focused on the screen with the same intensity one does when observing cell mutations under a microscope.

"You only have one photo?"

"And no jokes?"

"What's your sign?

"She's an aquarius."

Zelda turned her head and looked Kate deeply in her eyes, in a way that made her feel seen. "Oh, duh!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She groaned.

"Hey! You have a message!"

Her eyes went wide. "I do?"

The three of them narrowed on the screen together, reading the short "u look cute" message. Natalie clicked on his profile, revealing a football player. Kate recognized the Saint's uniform immediately.

"I got a message from an NFL player?"

The girl's shoulders slumped. "Pass," they said in unison, and his profile was gone.

"Why?"

"He's a linebacker. Skilled positions only," Zelda explained. "Trust me."

Kate was caught by surprise by this whole interaction. Becca, Sam, Zelda and Natalie were the it girls wherever they went. She had spent her entire life watching them grow up from a distance. Watching them laugh by the pool from her bedroom window, or hearing them gossip and laugh from a different room; or from down below looking up at the limelight of their social circles. Always the observer watching the spectacle from the audience - and now, she suddenly felt on stage with them, as if she were part of the show. It was bright up here.

"I have a few questions, actually."

The girls smiled and sat down. Kate sat in the lone armchair while Zelda and Natalie sat by her feet, on the zabuton by the coffee table hunched over her phone still. They were swiping left and right on suitors after methodologically screening their profiles.

"How do you choose? What is your criteria?"

They all laughed. "Well, there are some obvious red flags to watch for."

"Is there? I feel like every profile is the same. It seems that all men want is someone who 'doesn't take herself too seriously'. What does that even mean?"

"It means doormat," Rebecca said frankly.

"In what way?"

"They don't want anyone to hold them accountable for any shitty thing or jokes they or their friends say."

"Okay…" Kate frowned. That wasn't very promising. "And what are the selfies with the fish for?"

They all snorted. "Guys don't really take photos of themselves, like ever, and fishing is the only guy hobby where pictures are part of the shindig."

"And bodybuilding," Natalie added. "But stay away from those too. They are terrible in bed, and not fun to hang out with."

"Anyone else I should avoid?"

"Finance bros,"

"Anyone who has a podcast,"

"Or listens to podcasts,"

"Most professional athletes,"

"And musicians,"

"Poker players,"

"Comedians,"

"New Yorkers,"

"And Austrailians."

"Australians?" She asked. Statistically speaking, the millions of adult single males of an entire country or major city couldn't all be jerks. Could they?

"Not seriously date, but hooking up is fine."

They could clearly see the confusion on her face. "You're smart, you'll learn the signs quickly. Most single men nowadays are commitment phobic video game obsessed man children whose idea of a deep conversation is recounting last weekend's bender."

Her brain was overloaded with information, and her heart felt bleak at the prospects. It seems that she'll have to kiss some frogs before finding that spark she craved. Still, Kate was shocked that she received a message - from a football player - at all. Even with an inadequate profile, according to these experts. Part of her felt… Good. She was still lost, but there was a warm tickle inside of her that she couldn't quite explain.

"How do I reply to their messages?" Suddenly, she was invested in this, eager to know what the next steps of the experiment were.

"If you think they are cute and don't raise any red flags, ask them out immediately. Don't waste time chatting over text. Then you'll actually have something to talk about on your date."

Then the warm feeling turned both cold and hot, like panic. "I ask them out?"

"Yeah, this isn't the 80s."

"No, no," Zelda disagreed. "Some men like the chase. Tease a little."

"What does that look like?"

"Leave them on read for at least a few hours."

Kate felt like she should be taking notes again. Zelda and Natalie started editing and curating her profile in order to get better matches, while guiding her on the do's, don'ts and why's of it all. This was way more intricate and nuanced than she expected. What an unexpected night of discovery. She thought of his silvery eyes again.

"Is going on a walk considered a date?"

Zelda looked up at her. "It depends. Is it somewhere romantic?"

"Is New Orleans considered romantic?"

"Pfft! Fuck no!" She sneered, in a way that felt oddly brutal.

"Oh my god, Andrew Hozier is on this app?!" Natalie squealed, and that got Zelda's attention again.

Kate sank on the chair while she felt her body leave the stage and become once again the observer she had always been. Going on a walk was not a date. Her sister, who had been quiet this whole time sipping her drink, was the only one to notice the disappointment on her face.

"Welcome to dating," Rebecca raised a glass in her honour, and then drank it all.

Her sister was standing by the kitchen counter, green juice in hand and workout outfit on. Her face had a nice glow on, but her brows were creased looking at her phone. Becca usually got botox on her forehead, so it was unusual to see her this concerned about anything.

"What happened?" Kate asked, entering the kitchen from the courtyard, holding a pile of journals.

The worry in her face dissipated the moment she laid eyes on Kate. "Oh, you know, vampires. You got home really late last night, is everything okay?"

His silver eyes looking at her from across the room.

"Oh, you know. Vampires," Kate said quietly.

Rebecca gave her a sympathetic nod and refocused on her phone. Kate grabbed a glass of juice from the fridge, and served herself some French toast casserole from the stove. Chef Michael came early Saturday mornings to stock the fridge and pantry for the weekend, and they woke up early enough today that breakfast was still warm. She sat down on the bar stool by the edge of kitchen island, across from her sister, and served herself some organic blueberries, japanese strawberries and her favourite quebecoi maple syrup.

While eating in silence, Kate opened the first folder of her research stack, and inside were the folded up notes taken during Godric's interview. Her hand instinctively closed it. Her cheeks flooded with heat at the mere thought of her sister discovering what she was up to last night. Kate did not know if she should tell her sister about Godric's visit. It probably wasn't prudent of her to have discussed anything while negotiations were going on, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Plus, she didn't really say anything, did she?

Maybe not last night, but she had shared too much already and that was the real issue. Everything after it may as well be the fruit from the poisonous tree. Kate decided she shouldn't see him anymore.

Ignoring how crushed she felt, Kate put her work folder under the pile of reading material and pulled out something different to read during breakfast. Her hand immediately gravitated towards the old and familiar red leather binding and a golden cursive A B pressed in the bottom right corner. The spine bent easily from being opened a million times by her mother and by Kate, who had read the entire collection a million times. The sunlight pouring through the french windows highlighted how yellowed the pages had gotten through the years. This little journal, and the others in its collection, were one of Kate's most prized possessions.

"What is that?" Her sister asked, leaning forward.

"One of mom's journals,"

"Oh, yeah! She always carried them everywhere. Which year is that one?"

Kate looked at the date noted on the first and last page. "February 2009 to…November 2009. That's her last journal entry."

"What do you mean? She didn't die until 8 months after that."

That was something that always bothered her. Kate, and she was sure Rebecca did also, relived the last months to days leading up to their mother's suicide over and over again, trying to find the missing puzzle piece that could explain her actions.

"She must have stopped," Kate caressed the very last page. It was an entry about one of her last published papers.

A heavy silence fell in the kitchen, and Rebecca even put her phone down. One thing's for certain: Dr. Abigail Bellefleur loved writing down her every thought. She was a brilliant scientist, her mind was always thinking and analyzing new ideas, theories and curiosities and the world was better for it because she wrote everything down. She scribbled in meetings, in the passenger seat, suddenly during dinner, one time during a wedding and sometimes she even stepped out of the shower to write over the bathroom counter, which made several of the pages wavy from water droplets. Abigail created a collection of journal through the years, and it was a window into the fascinating woman that she was. This was who she was down to her core. If she stopped, she would have been terribly ill.

"How awful is it that none of us noticed," Kate sighed.

"We were kids, it wasn't our job to notice," Rebecca said impatiently. "Plus, she didn't stop. I remember her taking notes on the shoe trends that spring."

Kate shook her head. "I don't think so. I have her entire journal collection, there's no mention of shoes anywhere."

"Yes, there is! I remember her writing down what I thought in a journal just like that."

Shoes? Now that was ridiculous. "I think you must have imagined it. Mom wouldn't-"

"Mom wouldn't have what?" She snapped. "Considered what I thought to be worthy enough for her journal? Or that she wouldn't bother wasting her genius on me?"

"That's not-"

"I am telling you, Kate, that this journal is not her last one." Rebecca locked her jaw, anger in her eyes burning from the effort of showing constraint.

Kate felt fire on her face, and ice in her chest. Despite how ridiculous her statement might have been, the last thing she wanted was to hurt her sister. And the second last thing she wanted to do was to be on the receiving end of her sister's wrath. But something bitter ruminated in her thoughts. If - and by a long shot if - this journal wasn't their mom's last entry… What happened to the final one? Could it contain the answers she had been looking for for the past 12 years?

"Do you have mom's old purses?" Kate asked.

The two girls locked each other's gaze, their brains suddenly syncing to the same wavelength. They ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Rebecca's closet on a mission. The place was methodically organized and categorized, a joint effort between their house manager Theresa and Rebecca's stylist.

"Up here," Rebecca pulled a stepping stool, climbed it and reached to the very top shelf, pulling down a large beige box.

Kate helped lower it to the floor, and with a loud click of the brass latch, they opened the delicate trunk. Everything was stored in dust bags or cleaner bags, professionally stored. There were scarves, and a few blazers, a Harvard crewneck sweater, a few small purses and two briefcases. The trunk was barely half full.

"Is that it?"

"Well, Dad got rid of all of mom's stuff while we were in boarding school. This is what she left in this house and Theresa saved it for me. Her jewelry and watches are in the bank's deposit box."

The family trust - which owned all their properties, investments and companies - bought this house as a place for their mother to crash after working late nights in the lab. Abigail didn't use it very much, but just like all the Bellefleur's properties, it was part of the family trust. Rebecca just conveniently moved into it after finishing her MBA while she looked for a place, but ended up falling in love with the renovated cottage house. Kate followed the same suit.

Inside the trunk there were a few purses, but all of them were too small to carry journals inside, they were something more akin to an evening clutch. The briefcases however, she remembered vividly. One was a black laptop handbag, which was sadly empty, save for a pack of 12 year old mints and a tampon inside a pocket. The brown briefcase had a brass latch on it.

"Shit. It's a combination lock."

Kate let out a long, heavy sigh. "Of course. She encodes everything."

It was actually the bane of Kate's existence. Kate had read and studied all of her mom's analog notes to memory, but her computer - locked inside her lab's safe - was encrypted to the ninth degree. The few documents she had on the cloud were also classified, or redacted into oblivion, and not even her, or the entire IT department could figure out how the woman did it.

"Well?" Her sister stared at her. "What's the password?"

"There's over 2000 combinations, I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"If I knew mom's passwords I would probably have cured vampirism by now. Why do you think I stay in the office so late? I'm trying to finish her research without half of the puzzle. Her digital files are locked, so all I have are these journals."

"Wait - mom was trying to cure vampires?"

It never occurred to her that neither of them shared what they did at work. "That's my theory. She spent a decade studying human to vampire gene mutation pathways, and it seems to me that she was trying to change their cell structure in some way. I figured she was trying to reverse the process."

Suddenly she pulled the briefcase away. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If there are no vampires, Bonne Nuit is pointless. Why would she try to make her own company irrelevant?"

If Kate was her mothers daughter, then Rebecca was their fathers. Company first, always.

"Well, you assume that all vampires would want to take the cure."

"Right," her hand lowered, but there were shadows of doubt in her face still. "We can break it open."

But the suggestion didn't seem right. "Shake it, if there's a journal inside it should rattle."

Rebecca shook it violently, trying to dislodge any possible object inside. Other than the handle flipping back and forth, it was silent. She handed it to Kate, who examined it carefully. It did feel empty inside.

"I can get it X-rayed in the lab if you want," Kate suggested.

"Sure," her sister sighed defeated.

The girls sat quietly in the middle of Rebecca's change room, their mother's last belongings scattered all around them. Such a brilliant woman, a true gift to humanity, reduced to this: a bag of clothes, and a few diaries.

"If we lose Bonne Nuit, this will be all there's left," Rebecca whispered, her gaze distant.

Kate's heart was crushed. She could never tell her sister about what happened with Godric, or her illegal projects in the lab. Kate would not jeopardize their company any longer. That settled it: Godric would remain a secret. If they lost the company because Kate overshared, her sister would never forgive her. Nevermind that Kate would never forgive herself, losing her sister would be a far worse fate.

But the thought of never seeing him again felt … Disappointing. However, a curious opportunity popped into her head. If she discovered the truth about how vampires lived, what they wanted and how they thought straight from the source, she could innovate new and better products - and with more and better products in the market, there is more revenue and their share value would go up. Yes - that was it!

She changed her mind: she would see him again. The interview with the vampire would go on! It would have to be just another one of her secrets.

An: it's the first nice spring day of the season and I want to celebrate it with another chapter! A bit of sexiness, a bit of intrigue - oh my! I hope you liked it :)

see you next month