Disclaimer: I don't want to give anything away right now, but I have to give credit where credit is due. This fic has some plot points inspired by Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Specifics will be mentioned around Chapters 11 and 12 but this starts the build.

Song lyrics for this chapter: Need a Little Sugar in My Bowl by Bessie Smith

The whirlwind started as soon as her signature was dry.

As it turns out, the contract was better than Johnny had explained. Starting that night, the gig paid her for two weeks of rehearsal and one performance night on October 1st. Fangtasia gave Grace a ten thousand dollar signing bonus, a place to stay, all meals covered, reimbursement for the gas and motel she'd already paid for and the promise of thousands more after she completed the show for their grand reopening. It was nothing like she'd ever seen before, but then again, she'd never worked for vampires.

"We're here, Miss."

Grace was in the passenger seat of her Prius, which was a weird feeling for her; the bouncer from earlier was driving her car to her new lodging at Pam's behest. She expected Fangtasia to put her up in a room somewhere in the grittier part of Shreveport, but the vampire drove her through the quieter neighborhoods toward the woods on the outskirts of town and stopped in front of a gate. He entered a few numbers into the keypad and opened the security system to reveal a grey, one story ranch style house with dark blue shutters. Grace looked out her window in awe and felt the need to pinch herself. She'd never lived in a home on her own before.

Suddenly, the vampire zipped and opened her door, reaching his hand to help her out of the car. Grace couldn't help but recoil again.

"Are you going to do this every time?" she gasped. The vampire nodded his head. "Do you talk much?" He was still silent; Grace huffed. "Can you at least tell me your name if you're going to be my new normal?" He shifted back and forth - looking a little uncomfortable - but finally answered.

"... Vincenzo."

"My grandfather's name. Lovely. You even have his mustache," she sassed as she finally took his hand and let him help her.

Vincenzo dashed over to the front door, pulled out a pair of keys and swiftly unlocked it. He motioned for her to come inside before zooming back to the car to collect all her things and bring them to her new bedroom. Grace, by comparison, was moving like a sloth; she was still absorbing the mature trees and manicured lawn surrounding the driveway, alongside the foreign devilish feeling that had surfaced during her audition. The night air felt warm and heavy against her skin, but that rapidly changed as soon as she walked inside and felt the air conditioner blasting.

Yet, the decor was the thing that really gave her chills. Everything in the formal living room had been meticulously designed in a modern farmhouse style. It was beautiful. Vincenzo darted out from one of the hallway doors and motioned for her to follow him. Grace dropped her purse on the front entryway table and walked down a short hallway to find a modest kitchen and breakfast nook. Vincenzo gestured to the left to show the deep green dining room across the way and continued the silent tour by showing her the informal den with a huge flat-screen TV, a spare room with a makeshift recording studio and finally, her sleeping quarters. The bedroom had rustic decor and vaulted ceilings; an iron-wrought chandelier hung above a king-size bed filled with pillows. But the bathroom soon became her favorite part of the house. One side had an extensive rain shower system and the other had a built-in bathtub made to fit two people. In between was a small fireplace.

"Goodnight, Miss," said Vincenzo, breaking the silence. "I will pick you up tomorrow night for rehearsal."

"I can drive myself. Just leave the address," Grace replied, staring incredulously at the bathroom. A fireplace! Who the hell puts a fireplace in the bathroom?

"Orders are to drive you."

"What? No. What if I have to do something during the day? You won't be here."

"I'll leave you a number to contact. A day man will assist you." She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an inquisitive brow.

"A day man? Excuse me?"

"Orders are orders."

"What orders? Contract doesn't say I can't drive myself."

She expected him to keep sparring with her - continuing the longest conversation they'd ever had - but instead, Vincenzo smirked, respectfully tipped his head and sped out of the room. Grace grunted when she heard him start her Prius and peel out of the driveway, realizing she'd been tricked.

Of course the vampires didn't have to write that into the contract. What was she going to do? Sue them? Deny herself the pleasure of staying in this lovely house? No way. Although Grace hated the thought of being a kept woman, she told herself it was only two weeks. After that, she'd take their money and move on … perhaps vacation somewhere and relax before going to the next gig. She hadn't done that in years.

In the meantime, her body started to twitch; the earlier energy was still bursting at the seams and refused to let her fully relax. She should have been hungry but felt too on edge. Thankfully, she had a cure for that. Grace moved to the bedroom towards her stuff, combed through one of her luggage bags and pulled out a lighter, a set of papers, a rolling tray, a grinder and a hefty bag of cannabis products that one of her contacts had smuggled out of the Emerald Triangle in California. The good shit, but yet another thing that was extremely stupid to have in the car if she got pulled over. She made a quick joint with a hash snake running down the middle and lit the end after putting it in her mouth. Her mind immediately called for music, but Grace decided she didn't want to go through the trouble of finding the house stereo system and connecting her iPod to it. Not when that bathtub was calling her name. She'd have to make do with her own voice.

"What to choose, what to choose?" Grace mused aloud as she turned on the bath taps, going through her mental rolodex for the second time that night.

She closed her eyes, took a long puff, tipped her head back and began to make large smoke rings emerge from her mouth. Her body started to sway back and forth to a non-existent beat and her earlier restlessness turned into a sad, introspective high as she watched the bathtub fill up with water. The artist lit the fireplace for shits and giggles, enjoyed the rest of her strong plant medicine, and once the temperature looked right, stripped off her clothes and slowly lowered herself into the enormous tub.

Her body finally relaxed; the cannabis did its job, but being surrounded by water was truly the salve for her soul. She'd always grown up near the sea - being a Navy brat who moved from coastal town to coastal town following her father's new assignments - and whenever she was on edge, lost, confused or upset, she always found solace in immersing herself in a large body of water. It was peaceful, nurturing and non-judgemental. It didn't care where she came from or what she looked like. It never came with strict rules that demanded to be followed. It accepted her. Now that she was on her own traveling the country to make ends meet with whatever job she could find, Grace did her best to chase the feeling but being inland forced her to be creative. She took baths when she could afford to, but it was a rare luxury that she was currently ecstatic to indulge in.

Her earlier need for music bubbled up again. Grace's mind wandered back to when she was in high school, sitting in her parent's bathtub while they were out at some fancy dinner. She'd dragged their old record player into the bathroom and plugged it into the outlet near the sink so she could listen to her mother's Bessie Smith album while she absorbed the heat and tranquility of the bath water. Something about the Blues singer's authenticity, ferocity and sadness spoke to her spirit. Her parents had grounded her for being so naive - she could have electrocuted herself, her father screamed - but it currently brought a sad smile to Grace's lips. She felt her familiar blues creep into her psyche and lyrics suddenly poured out of her mouth.

I need a little sugar in my bowl

I need a little hot dog on my roll

I can stand a bit of lovin', oh so bad

I feel so funny, I feel so sad

Fuck, she did need some sugar in her bowl; even as a young girl, the sexual innuendo of the song wasn't lost on her. She let her fingers glide across one of her arms and imagined someone else doing it instead. It'd been way too long since she'd felt the touch of another and the audition brought her desire to the surface.

I need a little steam-heat on my floor

Maybe I can fix things up, so they'll go

What's the matter hard papa

Come on and save your mama's soul

'Cause I need a little sugar in my bowl, doggone it

I need some sugar in my bowl

A faraway voice picked up where she had left off and Grace didn't question it despite knowing she was alone in the house. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the warmth surrounding her. Soon, her mind untethered from her body's anchor and slithered past the bathtub and house floor. Something pulled her deeper into the earth towards the source of the voice and when the mist slowly cleared, Grace found herself sitting in an underground cave network by the side of a slow-moving stream.

She could see everything clearly, even though there weren't any natural light sources. The frenetic energy from her audition was back in full force and revealed her singing partner sitting by the stream before her. The woman with red hair was also naked but strong and fierce. Grace watched her pluck something from the water and her eyes widened when she realized it was a bone. The woman continued to sing but switched to a language Grace couldn't understand as she placed it alongside a few other bones she'd already collected. Grace moved to communicate with her but stopped when the woman looked her straight in the face.

Her eyes flashed so intensely that the singer woke up from her vision. Grace gasped, flailing in the tub and causing water to spill everywhere. Her heart raced as she continued to heave and integrate back into the real world. The mysterious energy slowly dissipated but lurked just under the surface.

"What the fuck was that?" she wailed.

Grace didn't return to Fangtasia until three days before the show. Louis explained that the bar had some last minute finishing touches to complete before they could go over the stage blocking, but she didn't fully believe that. Everything had looked so perfect when she auditioned and nothing seemed to be different when she walked in that night, save for more formal audience tables in front of the stage. But Grace didn't pull that thread any further to avoid discovering something sinister she didn't want to know.

Ignorance, as it turns out, was bliss; life had been relatively peaceful as she settled into her new house and rehearsed with the band at a state-of-the-art practice studio across town. The limited routine gave her a sense of stability despite her initial annoyance with Vincenzo's guard over her car keys. Fantasgia took care of everything and she didn't have to lift a finger, which gave her immense pleasure after years of taking care of herself on a shoestring budget. It was like an all-inclusive vacation. Yet, she still hadn't returned to the bathtub. The impish force still slunk around her body - especially when she practiced with the band - but the red haired woman thankfully hadn't shown her face again.

"Gimme some sugar, darlin'!"

Louis welcomed her with open arms as she entered the main room. Grace laughed and gave him a hug and a kiss. They'd grown close over the last week or so as the singer discovered that her vampire counterpart was an excellent musician and leader. He skillfully transitioned between genres - jazz, blues, soul, rhythm and blues, salsa and more - and had a keen sense of storytelling and composition. Pam hired him to lead the performance according to her wishes and Grace felt he was doing an excellent job of delivering on her requests. He'd assembled an all-star vampire cast of characters to play the supporting parts of their ensemble and at first, Grace was uncomfortable being the only human in the band, but Louis laid down the law and threatened that the boss would have their fangs if they hurt her. After that, everyone started to melt together the more they practiced and Grace felt they were ready for prime time.

"Alright, looks like all y'all are here," Louis announced. "Time for places." He climbed the stairs to the stage and motioned for everyone to gather around him on the floor below. Grace followed the rest of the band members and waited for his instructions.

"André, you're the easy one. Your set isn't going anywhere, you're at the back." The Haitian snickered and jumped on stage, standing where his drums would eventually be. "Dallas, you're next. To his right." The bassist hiked up the stairs and flashed his Southern white boy charm at Grace. She hid a blush. "Mercedes, my love, you'll be upfront to the left and Juancito, frame her on the right near my piano. That way, you can move back and forth for your solos." The maker and progeny duo drifted up to the stage and took their places for their respective instruments, guitar and trumpet. "And Grace dear, you're in the middle." This time, she took the stairs to find her position, laughing at Pam in her head for doubting she would be back.

"Now, Grace and I will be off stage to start and we'll enter from the wings when it's time for our introduction numbers. Remember, we're telling a story. This isn't just a setlist we're performing. We want to connect with the audience, make 'em feel special, you know? It's not 'oh here's a song we think you'll like', it's 'here's what we we want you to feel'."

"And that feeling is sexual," Mercedes cackled. She looked over at her child and lover, licking her lips. Juancito stared back hungrily.

"Younglings," André said under his breath, rolling his eyes. The pair was still relatively early on in their relationship and Louis had muttered to Grace at one point that it was typical for makers and progenies to be highly bonded and intimate at the beginning. It was why he chose them to be part of the band because it would add an extra erotic touch to their sound.

"She ain't wrong though," Dallas laughed. "I'm hoping for a fuck-n-feed after the show."

"Hey!" Louis growled. "Not in public. You know the King's orders."

It wasn't the first time they'd mentioned the 'King' or the 'Sheriff' in front of Grace, but she didn't have the heart to ask what they were talking about. She knew about the AVL and Nan Flannigan since she was always doing damage control on TV, but otherwise, Grace was ignorant regarding the vampire hierarchy. She wouldn't stay in this world after the show ended, so it wasn't worth figuring it all out. She could deal with the low level vampires and get by.

"Fine," Dallas moaned.

"You better be fine or you'll have Area 5 to answer to. Don't forget you're a guest here," a voice snarled from across the room.

Grace turned to see Pam standing by the bar with her hands folded over her chest and a very stern look on her face. Her head tilted towards the large throne like chair in the room and Dallas physically cowered. Why? Grace didn't know, but she guessed it was where Pam routinely sat by the way André rolled his eyes again. It was a power check.

"Yes, ma'am," Dallas folded, bowing his head.

"Good," Pam drawled. "Now Louis, I need to borrow our little songbird for fittings. Don't worry, I'll give her back."

"As you wish," Louis said, tipping his hat. "We've got stuff to work on in the meantime."

Pam zipped to the stage and took Grace by the arm, leading her into the backstage wing and next, the main dressing room. It had an open floor plan with several different stations for performers to get ready, save for a closed door towards the back. Pam opened it to reveal a small private green room just for Grace. She ushered her inside and closed the door, sequestering them from everyone else.

"It'll be just us girls now," Pam leered, looking Grace up and down. The singer lifted her chin defiantly, not scared of her wandering eyes. Male casting directors did it all the time, Pam wasn't any different.

"What did you have in mind for wardrobe?" Grace said with a lift of her brows.

"Did Louis give you a stage name for the show?"

"He did. Gigi St. Claire."

"I can work with that," Pam grinned.

The vampire motioned to the other side of the room, revealing a clothing rack of black floor-length dresses in different styles. Grace couldn't tell what size they were but figured they would be too small, just like her other fittings over the years. Pam grabbed a few options - one with a corsetted waist, another with lace balloon puff sleeves and lastly, one with delicate beading and sequins - and held them up to Grace's body, making incoherent remarks with each dress. Grace hoped she wouldn't pick the corset option. It would be challenging to sing in.

Pam eventually jettisoned all three dresses and returned to the rack, sliding her fingers across all the different fabrics until she plucked another one from the lineup. It was a velvet column silhouette with an off-the-shoulder boat neckline, a lightly cinched waist decorated with pavé crystals and a big slit up the thigh.

"Go ahead, try it on," Pam encouraged with a devious smile.

Grace knew the vampire had no intention of leaving the room, so she embraced the opportunity instead of lamenting about how uncomfortable she felt in her skin. She unzipped the back of her purple shift dress and let it fall to the floor to reveal her matching cotton bra and panty set and assorted black line work tattoos. Pam's fangs dropped, but she quickly rescinded them; Grace felt a wicked sense of enjoyment from getting a rise out of her after being rejected by so many over the years. The singer then took the dress from Pam's hands and stepped into it. Pam practically purred as she zipped up the back, pushed Grace's bra straps down so as not to distract from the off-the-shoulder neckline and tied the extra fabric around the crystals to fully secure her. The dress fit like an absolute glove and accentuated Grace's hourglass figure.

"How … how did you know my size?" Grace stammered, not believing her gorgeous reflection in the mirror. She felt rich in every sense of the word.

"I never forget a waist," Pam gloated.

"This has never happened before. I don't know what to say."

"Honey, if this is about your curves … Humans these days," Pam said, rolling her eyes. "Those other managers are shitheads, alright? You were born in the wrong time, heroin chic hasn't always been pretty. And we vampires prefer meat on the bone to be satisfied. You're good." Grace's lip quivered at Pam's version of tenderness, but she held her tongue as not to spoil it. "Now, for your hair …"

She gingerly pulled the singer's dark tresses into a messy bun to emphasize her neckline, the vampire's eyes never leaving her jugular vein. Grace shivered as Pam circled her, admiring her work. But suddenly, the dressing room door flew open and Pam's predatory disposition evaporated. Grace looked at the mirror's reflection to see an imposing figure dressed in black standing at the entrance behind her.

Her gut reaction was intense fear. He was monstrously tall and drenched in blood; it was streaked through his blonde hair, smeared down his mouth, splattered across his chiseled chest and thoroughly covered his arms up to his elbows. He looked absolutely dead inside, more than what she'd come to expect from vampires.

"A word, Pamela."

His ice blue eyes complemented his frosty demeanor; he didn't even bother to look in the room and acknowledge her. The entire encounter only lasted a few more moments before he and Pam dashed off to God knew where, but it was enough to make a lasting impression on Grace. She should have continued to be scared shitless - after all, he showed her the vampiric underbelly she was trying to stay ignorant of - but instead, the feeling slowly faded into a surprisingly deep arousal. He was gorgeous but she felt attracted to him on a deeper level. Her heart continued to pump at full speed and give her new dark vigor a boost as it traveled with her blood. It sang with approval. It liked him. She couldn't help but look in the mirror at her reflection and wonder what it would take to turn his gaze if she ever saw him again.

But that was a big if and he clearly didn't want her if she wasn't worth an acknowledgement. Grace chalked up her attraction to just being sex crazed after being around vampires for so long singing suggestive songs. All she needed to do was find a one night stand and then she'd be over him. Because that's how it always went. She got her hopes up that something might happen, then it didn't and she moved onto something else to start the cycle over again. Love wasn't in the cards for women like her.

Or so she thought.

Author Notes: ahhhhh, I don't love the flow of this chapter, but I decided to just post it. I need to do some groundwork / backstory before the next chapter … which is in Eric's POV, muhahaha!

Other tidbits …

- Grace's play by was initially a mixture of Billie Eilish (especially her Met Ball and British Vogue looks) and Ashley Graham (since Billie is def too young on her own). Now her play by is Sixtine Rouyre with Haley Reinhart's voice.

- Louis is Jon Batiste

- Vincenzo is Milo Ventimiglia in his mustache days

Thanks for the early love, appreciate you readers!