Chapter 12: Princess of the South

He licked the blood trickling down her navel. It was warm, boozy, and perfect. Except nothing was filling about it. This woman wasn't who the dark hunger demanded. No beautiful woman as of late was able to satisfy this small but gnawing itch at the bottom of his stomach. So he bit and drank, and suckled until the topless woman on his lap got quieter, heavier, sleepier, and her heart slower.

"Eric!" Willa threw a pillow at him, hitting him stiffly on the shoulder. "Simmer down."

He pulled away, tossing the woman who straddled his lap and she fell limp beside him on the couch. "You're a real buzz kill."

"And you're going to kill her. That's fucking newborn behaviour," his youngest asked sourly with the same brand of heavy judgment Pamela was known for.

He wiped the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, then licked it clean, fully aware he was just as hungry as before. Willa's attention went back to the movie on TV, as she curled up on the armchair, arms folded over her knees like a little kid. She had this quirk of sitting in any way but normal when it was just them. Eric leaned back on the couch, ignoring his Tinder date passed out next to him. Her heartbeat was stable, and she would wake up in half an hour or so. Then he'd scramble her mind and shove her in an Uber to whatever downtown Airbnb she was staying. Modern times were crazy. Tinder had an entire vampire meet-up section called Bite, a feature that became almost as popular as the original thing. Finding someone to feed off of was never hard for him, but now it had become… Boring. He told himself that boredom was the root of his never-ending hunger, and not… Darker desires who had a name.

Speaking of her- "Did you find anything else on the Bellefleurs?"

Willa glanced back at him, visibly bored with whatever movie she had picked. "Other than their philanthropic tendencies, and their schedule being more booked than Godric's, not really."

And speaking of him- "Where is Godric?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Aren't you the great keeper of the Council's schedule?"

"Have you met Godric?"

"Hm," Eric fell back in silence. She was right. The man was Houdini when he wanted to be. And Die Hard - he finally recognized what movie this was.

Willa had been trying to book a follow-up meeting with the Bellefleurs all week after he heard through the business vines that their latest BOD meeting agreed to explore negotiations further. But Rebecca's schedule, according to her assistant, was filled until next Christmas. And Eric for one, was dying to know at what lengths Rebecca was willing to go to disobey her masters.

And that wasn't all he found. Eric had quietly hired a trusted private investigator to dig into the family, one who knew discretion was a matter of life and death. He returned with extensive research on the family business, and how they had managed to put fingers in basically every pie in the south. The main catalysts were Richard Bellefleur Senior, and his late wife Doctor Abigail Bellefleur, previously Abigail Bennet. The Bellefleurs were one of the founding families of northern Louisiana and had been here for generations. Richard's father James Bellefleur, was a pharmacist who served in the First World War, then opened his first manufacturer of medications – mostly for blood pressure and cholesterol. James had three sons, all whom worked in the company and helped it expand into a research and development center and increased the scope of products they sold. Two of his sons died in a car accident during a storm sometime in the early 90s, leaving Richard as the sole heir of the company which had exponentially grown since, evolving into a large umbrella of 18 different companies across multiple industries.

Richard met Abigail in the late 80s, a microbiologist and renowned virologist from Oregon, at a pharmaceutical conference. They married and had three children not too long after that. Richard Junior was a track star, a silver and gold Olympic medalist who worked at one of Bellefleur Tech's subsidiaries – some sort of crypto or private equity firm, it was unclear. Junior moved around a lot, rotating between Singapore, London and New York every few months, sporadically visiting his family. Katherine, the youngest, seemed to follow her mother's steps, her name hitting the news around the age of 7, winning science competitions and being published in prestigious peer-reviewed journals as early as 19 years old. She held multiple masters and PhD's in microbiology and bioengineering, and her thesis title had words Eric didn't even know how to pronounce.

There was nothing on Rebecca.

In fact, the bulk of the dossier actually consisted of Abigail's death in 2011. She founded Bonne Nuit a year after the Great Revelation, with the goal of eliminating barriers between Vampire and Human societies through technology. She was poised and eloquent at every keynote speech and interview. Quiet and observant, an introvert, much like her youngest daughter. One faithful July evening, she committed suicide by poison while working in Bonne Nuit's lab. Eric found it a bit macabre for her youngest daughter to be working in the same location where her mother killed herself.

"But I must say, I do find all the secrecy odd," Willa readjusted her whole body on the chair to face him. "The Bellefleur family runs this huge Charity Foundation, and they throw this huge and lavish fundraiser Gala event every year in New York that rivals the Met Gala. Anyone who's someone in this country knows it. If they are so generous, why keep free access to New Blood for every sick vampire in New Orleans quiet?"

"Because people hate us?" He cocked a brow, thinking of Willa's very good point.

Publicly supporting vampires was political suicide in most countries.

"But Bonne Nuit is in the vampire tech market. From a marketing perspective, why not leveraging it for PR? Why keep helping your own market segment such a secret?" Willa had picked up corporate lingo from hanging out with Godric so much.

"I don't think Rebecca sees vampires as her market segment. Fringe market maybe," Eric replied.

Rebecca, or whoever the fuck was in charge of Bonne Nuit, seemed to target land developers, construction companies, luxury hotel chains and real estate management businesses to sign contracts for large purchase orders of UV-proof glass. Most of L.A.'s homes over a million dollars were outfitted with Bellefleur glass. Half of all new mid to high-luxury skyrises, hotels and resorts being built worldwide were installing it. It was the new marble countertop of building materials if you will. It was a common stereotype that vampires had deep pockets, and building homes suitable for their living was a good strategy. Their symbol, a small matte cursive B, was printed at the bottom right corner of every pane. It was the designer logo of windows.

But Willa made a rather good point. Why do something good and keep quiet about it? Maybe Eric's initial guess was right. People did hate vampires to the point they couldn't champion anything. Godric tried to start several sustainability campaigns, visibly supporting green energy and ocean cleaning start-ups, and every right flank in the world pushed back, stating in bold speeches that climate change was a conspiracy made up by socialist vampires to push their own policies. The policies were, ensuring a livable world, which apparently was a bad thing. But considering we would still be living in it, the media leeches spun it as anything but. Everything and anything lived and died in the court of public opinion, just as it always had, and whoever controlled the narrative won. In modern times the reach of voice is much deeper since technology allowed information to spread, and the control of the narrative was much more decentralized, as it was no longer in control of a few Kings and Queens.

Maybe Rebecca knew that helping vampires would be a PR nightmare, so she just did it quietly. Still, judging by everything he knew about her family, it didn't quite add up. Billionaires didn't do charity for free. And the way she did it yielded no tax benefit either. Could it really be that she did such a thing simply because Lafayette Reynolds asked? If it was the same Lafayette Reynolds from Bon Temps that he remembered, the man was rather charming, but not that charming. They must be real good friends.

"She did pageants," a whiney voice spoke. Both Eric and Willa looked at the topless woman half asleep on the couch, whose eyes were heavy but fixed on the movie.

"Who?" Eric asked.

"Rebecca Bellefleur," his Tinder date clarified. She laid cozily on the couch and pulled a throw blanket on top of her bare body, making herself too much at home. "We went to the same school growing right up until her dad shipped her to some boarding school in New York when her mom died. She was good at it too. Won a bunch."

"Oh yeah," Willa smiled. "I totally forgot about that."

Eric's hand shot straight into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He typed Rebecca Belleufleur pageant and lo and behold: Miss Teen Louisiana winner 2009, Miss Baton Rouge 2008, Belle of D'Arbonne 2008, and the list went on. She won 12 titles straight, all first place within the span of a year and a half.

"Princess of the South?!" He read out loud, in half disbelief, half annoyed that he paid for a full-scope investigation and his detective failed to submit this sparkling footnote. And Willa had seemingly forgotten such a juicy detail.

Digging deeper he found old headshots of young Rebecca wearing a big tiara, a peach pink dress and a big sash across her chest. Most of the photos he found were something closer to 2010's prom. She had a visible fake tan and lashes far too big for her face, but other than a normal complexion and bigger and more womanly frame, she looked nearly identical today. There was an old blurry video on Youtube with only 1,200 views of her 'talent', which was singing jazz covers of popular songs. The crowd ate it up. Her voice wasn't half bad either.

"You are pathetic," Willa broke the spell. "Look at the smile on his face."

The lady on the couch chuckled. Now that was a low blow - joining forces and mocking Eric with the food? He glared. "And you are useless. You forgot she did pageants?"

"It's the south. Half of these bitches do pageants," the lady shrugged in Willa's defense, returning her sleepy attention to Bruce Willis.

"Are you still friends with her?" He nudged the woman, hoping she would have more secrets.

She shook her head. "My ex cheated on me with her back in college, so now I just avoid her at all costs. Can we talk about something else?"

"No. Where do you avoid her, exactly?"

The lady rolled her eyes. "When she's home? Galatorie's, the Brass Swan, Rosie's rooftop, Arnault and Tara's. Mostly Tara's."

Eric, like most vampires, didn't pay much attention to fine dining or restaurants of any kind, but Galatorie's and the Brass Swan were some of the famous names in town. Rosie's was an overrated rooftop bar at a boutique hotel, Arnault was a well-known jazz club on Frenchmen Street, and Tara's was… Tara's. "You know every place she goes to?"

"Yeah, everyone who grew up with money around these parts tends to keep up with Bellefleurs."

Eric abruptly left the couch, making his way to the front door.

"Where are you going?" Willa asked.

"Out," Eric picked up his car keys on the console. He nodded to the half-naked woman on the couch. "Finish her off, will you? Godric's awful complexion doesn't suit you."

It was another night of product testing, this time with a new subject. Niko had printed the survey and the subject intake forms, and Kate neatly attached them on the clipboard. She was mildly annoyed she still did not have a UX specialist to do this. It seemed that no competent scientist or even consultant in America wanted to face vampire subjects. Her sister firing researchers was also not helpful. Kyle Wilson wasn't pleasant, but he at least knew what he didn't mind doing this. Most of the time, anyway.

Kate would have to ask HR to scope talent in Europe, Asia and South America and for her sister to throw more money into the contract. As much as Kate enjoyed watching her innovations at work, nighttime was precious to her. Afterhours was the only time she had the lower lab for herself to focus on her mother's research, and hopefully crack the code of her mother's secrets. However, with the threat of acquisition looming over them, trying to recruit someone right now or try to negotiate with her sister was futile.

Entering the control room, Niko was there, face buried in her tea mug. She looked ready to go home. However, it was protocol for researchers to never conduct testing while alone in the lab, for safety reasons. Niko was often the only one who volunteered. Even though she always stayed on this side of the glass, Kate was appreciative.

"Hey," Kate smiled. "Is the new subj-"

Her eyes met his through the one-way window. He sat lonely on the other side of the interview table, with a pleasant but blank smile on his beautiful, ancient face.

"What is he doing here?" She asked, alarmed.

Niko turned around. "You know him? He's the new volunteer. Subject HG1UJ."

Kate shook her head, trying to recall and channel the hurt and anger she felt towards the vampire for days after their encounter, hoping it would give her the courage to storm into the room and give that man a piece of her mind, Rebecca-style. But looking at him right now, it didn't come. All she felt was her heart snagged in her throat. "He can't be here."

"Why not?"

Then it hit her all at once. Not anger, but fear. What had he seen? Did Niko reveal what new product he'd be testing? Was he on another expedition to find more information to steal her company? Oh, the anger came too, and she wished it made her puff up like a lion, and roar like a bear. But she wasn't her sister. All her body gave her were shaky and sweaty hands.

Kate hugged the clipboard against her chest and entered test room 3. It was a simple white room with bright white lighting. All it was set up for was a subject intake interview, where Kate would go over a few lifestyle questions to better match what products they would be best suited for testing, plus a few NDAs, liability waivers and consent forms. None of that would be happening tonight.

There, sat Godric. He wore slacks and an oatmeal crew neck sweater with the sleeves pulled up to his forearms. His short brown hair was perfectly in place, and his beautiful silver eyes glittered as he recognized her.

"Oh, lucky me," Godric smiled innocently. "Dr. Katherine Bellefleur herself."

There was a storm of feelings inside her, thunder and crashing. She wanted to scream at him, throw him out, curse him for the audacity of showing his face here again. But there was a calm in his eyes that invited her in, and it had nothing to do with his vampiric capabilities as she had applied her Calantica eye drops an hour ago. His hands were resting on the table, pale and strong. The same electrifying hands she had daydreamed about at every quiet moment.

"I cannot take you on as a test subject," Kate said quietly, in the back of her throat where words so often got stuck in the face of confrontation. She expected him to ask her to repeat herself, and she would, hating herself for being so shaky and weak at such a crucial moment.

He tilted his head, eyes only on her. "Why not?"

Godric heard her. Kate raised the clipboard a little higher, like a shield. "Subjects must remain anonymous, and I know who you are. And what you want."

There was a pause, and the vampire remained unblinking. A subtle curl formed at the corner of his lips, and his voice was soft and smooth. "And what do I want?"

Her mouth went dry, and she took deep breaths through her nostrils, the clipboard rising and falling with her chest. This was her lab, her experiment. She couldn't allow him, or anyone to destroy that, or take it from her. She pulled her chair and sat down quietly. Slowly she put the clipboard down.

"You want to acquire Bonne Nuit. I'm afraid I cannot share any more proprietary information with you at this time."

If anything, she had already exposed too much. The glass research and manufacturing, the new shutters. Hell, she told him about her illegal blood experiment for crying out loud. If this information fell into the wrong hands, she'd lose a lot more than just the company.

The smirk disappeared from his lips as he sat straighter. "I'm afraid you misunderstood my intentions."

Which intentions, exactly? Her analytical brain listed possibilities and probabilities. Did she misinterpret their walk together, and when he asked if she was married or courting someone? Did she misinterpret how his hand felt like stars on her skin? Did she misconstrue his undivided attention and curiosity about her research? The storm inside her grew, tossing her emotions from side to side, feelings of guilt, shame and disappointment crashing on top of each other and emulsifying into something she couldn't name.

"I am not a part of New Blood," he said sincerely. "I am simply Eric Northman's old friend and advisor."

That part confused her, but the storm raged on. "I fail to see the difference."

He extended his beautiful hand to her over the table. His soft palm faced up, and she could see the bluish shadows of veins on his wrist under the bright light. They were the only indication that this was a man and not a living Adonis statue. She clasped her own hands under the table, recalling the feeling of touching those very hands.

"Tonight I am not here to take anything, Dr. Bellefleur. In fact, I wish to give," his lips were full, and the colour of a vintage rose.

"Give me what?"

He smiled again, the only thing that calmed the storm inside her. "Hopefully an ounce of the same wonder you gave me the last time we met."

His hands moved towards the clipboard, pulling the papers towards him. He detached the pen and flipped through the pages, stopping at the non-disclosure agreement and signing the bottom without reading. He pushed the plastic board back across the table in a perfectly perpendicular motion to the edges of the table.

"Ask me anything you want."

"I don't understand," her brows creased, still struck by his words. She gave him the feeling of wonder. It was how she read the situation at the time, but everything that happened since Tara's warned her otherwise. She believed what she felt that night was nothing but a manipulated illusion.

"How often do you conduct unscripted interviews?"

Unscripted? Ludicrous. "All interviews must have the aim to answer a specific question."

"Then ask me a question. Anything you want to know about human or vampire history in the past 2000 years. I vow to tell you the truth," he smiled again.

Her eyes went wide. If Godric was really 2000 years old, he was not only the oldest vampire she had ever met but he was significantly older than all vampire subjects across all scientific literature. From all the papers she's read, the average age was 131 years, with a median of 110 years and a standard deviation of 34 years. Godric was so far from the top quartile of the bell curve, he was an impossible outlier.

"A scientific… Interview with the vampire?"

"Sure," he chuckled. "If that is what you wish to talk about. Although I am no scientist, so I may lack the technical answers you seek."

Kate sat in the plain white room with the vampire for a long minute, her brain racing with questions, thoughts stumbling into others faster than she could process them. Despite studying it in school plenty, Kate was no historian. She always found history to be biased - told by winners and oppressors, manipulating the narrative and distorting facts to justify horrific actions. Even if she were to ask historical questions to the vampire, she would get his version of the facts. Still, a fascinating preposition - a type of curiosity that went beyond scientific discovery.

Kate felt an imposing duty and urge. A question that had been plaguing her for weeks. "Why does Eric want to buy Bonne Nuit?"

Godric remained still. "Start with a better question, Doctor. I'll answer that one when we've run out of interesting topics."

She felt her face burn at the rejection. Kate thought of all the 98 papers she'd read on vampires, about physiology, psychology and anthropology. Since the Great Revelation only 98 scientific papers were published, of which 5 were mother's. Still, 98 was an astonishingly low number for such a discovery. But there simply was no funding on the matter. This opportunity was as good a time as any to fill some gaps in her reading.

"Since vampires don't breathe oxygen and have scotopic vision, have you or anyone you know explored the depths of the ocean?"

There was a small glimmer in his silver eyes. "I'm afraid we find sustained water submersion rather uncomfortable. Our skin is susceptible to putrefaction, and the air in our lungs gets compressed just like yours would."

Of course, air pressure. "Do you get decompression sickness from freediving?"

Although rare in humans, vampires could theoretically reach much greater depths that would exacerbate symptoms.

He nodded, confirming her theory. "Yes. It won't kill us, but it's deeply unpleasant. I don't know of any vampire who's ventured down there."

Kate reached for the clipboard, detached the papers and flipped them to the blank side, writing notes.

"Other than vampires, what other mythical creatures exist?"

"I take it you are familiar with Darwinism?" He asked back.

She nodded her head, already anticipating a disappointing answer.

"What you mean by mythical creatures have mostly gone extinct, but they were genetic rarities to begin with. Vampires and a few types of shapeshifters have resisted mutations throughout the ages. However, if you are a well-read scholar, you know there isn't much mysticism about us."

Kate recorded his answer using keywords only. She was certainly going to circle back to shapeshifters, but Godric was right. The physiology and biology of vampires made the bulk of scientific publications which Kate had spent many late nights studying and analyzing. Vampirism appeared to be caused by a unique type of mutagenic virus. Contrary to popular belief it wasn't caused by a supernatural imbuing of life force or a consequence of selling one's soul to the devil. According to her mother, a pioneer in the subject, vampirism was caused by a special kind of mononegavirales transmitted via body fluids, much like ebola, measles and rabies. Vampirical anthropology, however, required much further research.

"Something that confuses me are your familial hierarchies. Can you explain the relationship between Maker and progeny?"

Godric looked down and chortled, as if minutely embarrassed. "That is a very good question, but I am not sure I have a good answer."

Kate was wired. "Is it more like parent-offspring, or a romantic partnership? Or perhaps it is more complex, master and servant?"

"Neither. All. It varies, case by case. Makers choose to turn their progeny for a variety of reasons, and that directly impacts how they relate."

"But you can't deny there is a certain power imbalance between Maker and child, much like human families," Kate insisted.

"Like your father telling you to sell the company, to what I imagine is against your wishes?" He smirked. But she didn't find his wit particularly funny, and he read that on her face by immediately rescinding the charisma, and replaced it with poise. "All a vampire truly knows is how fleeting life is. People, cities, societal norms, language and culture. Even religion changes. When you find someone worth keeping, you act on it."

"Have you made progeny?" Kate inquired.

"Yes, two," the glimmer in his eyes dulled. "And they went on making their own progeny as well."

"Tell me about them." Kate started scribbling a rudimentary family tree.

"You've met Eric,"

At the mention of the name, she looked up from her notes. "I thought you were his old friend and advisor. Being a Maker is a bit more involved than that."

He slowly nodded. "Yes, and no. I made Eric many centuries ago. If you think of a Maker through the lens of a vampire mentor, my role is obsolete. Eric has made two progeny himself, Pamela and Willa-"

"Burrell?"

"She goes by Thompson nowadays. If you've known her as human, I'm sure you can understand why."

Kate nodded, quickly scribbling down notes. Willa's father, late Governor Truman Burrell, launched the first vampire prison, but then its true nature was exposed to be something closer to a vampire torturing facility. If Willa became a vampire, it was understandable she would forgo her family name. That would be quite a burden of a legacy to keep.

"Pamela went on to make Tara Thornton, whom I believe you may have personally known, or at the very least heard of."

Her brain dug deep for any recollection of one Tara Thornton. Kate had an almost perfect memory but he had no recollection of such a person, so she shook her head.

"The bar we visited? Tara's? It's named after her." Godric answered his riddle.

"Oh," she blushed, embarrassment washing over her. "I was unaware it was named after a vampire, and I'm afraid I don't recall much from that night."

Except for the puking. She remembered all of that in great detail.

"Pity," he smirked.

Kate felt her cheeks flush, and she looked down at her chicken scratch handwriting, staring at the rudimentary family tree she drew. It was missing an entire branch, next to Eric.

"And your other progeny?"

His lips formed a straight line, and this time it was his eyes that fled away. "Nora. Both Nora and Tara have passed. One from hepatitis V, the other during the violent early days of the pandemic."

A visible silence fell over Godric, like a heavy blanket weighing him down. "I'm very sorry to hear that," Kate said sincerely. When the Hep V pandemic spread, Kate was just a child, but she remembered hearing it on the news on a loop for many months. Those were dark times. Wanting to change subjects, she asked something in a different vein. "Where are you from?"

"I've lived just about everywhere, but I was born somewhere in Gaul. I was captured as a boy by Julius Caesar's army sometime between 56 and 58 BC. I spent most of my human life as a slave in Rome, and I turned around age 24, but I'm not sure. Maybe earlier."

Kate found herself unable to write down the word slave. This stopped being a clinical, scientific or even historical exploration. Recording such painful details of someone's life on paper felt unethical, and the furthest thing from the spark he promised. Kate put the pen down, unsure what to say. Sorry, again? It didn't sound enough.

"It's okay," Godric sensed her discomfort. "It was a very, very long time ago. I don't spend any time dwelling on it anymore. I am now focused on the future."

Kate was relieved by the topic change. "Which brings me to my original question: why do you want to acquire Bonne Nuit? And why now?"

"Why does your father want to sell it? And why now?" He cocked a brow.

Kate did not like that the vampire answered her question with another question, but he raised a good point. Kate wondered if she would be brave enough to ask him at their next weekly lunch.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"Boring question."

She grew frustrated at his rudeness. "You must realize that you would only acquire projects that are documented, yes?"

With Niko listening, she had to be careful with how she navigated this conversation. There was no way she would hand over the blood-making machine. Specs for it only existed in her head. There was no assembly or user manual and no written recipe. Out of an abundance of caution it all lived in her head and the machine was locked in a room with an encrypted passcode only she had access to. He wouldn't get his hands on mother's research either, most of the digital files were classified and also encrypted - and that key had died with her mother.

His eyes glittered and the curl on his beautiful lips returned. "Oh, to be a fly on these walls."

Kate wasn't particularly enthused about his coyness. She stood up, taking her jumbled papers with her. He gracefully copied her, standing tall on the other side of the metal table.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Godric. Tonight has been enlightening."

"Just Godric, please. And are you out of questions, Dr. Bellefleur?"

Not by a long shot. She wanted to ask about the historical events he witnessed and to confirm or deny her own historical conspiracy theories that rattled in her head. She wanted to know more about vampire culture and norms, and his family. Did he have brothers or sisters? What about his Maker? What did blood taste like to a vampire? Did he miss food? Could they eat food? How did he cope with immortality?

"I am afraid I am out of time for the night. Should I tell my sister you came by?"

He shook his head. "If I wanted to speak to your sister, I would have."

Suddenly heat took over her veins like wildfire. Could it be? A man not instantly bewitched by her sister? Or even more unfathomable - a man bewitched by her? Absurd. Afraid she looked purple, she stepped towards the control room door.

"Would you like to meet again?"

Her hand rested on the doorknob, unable to turn it. There was simply so much more than just questions. But this man was akin to a garden snake in paradise, his company was the forbidden fruit.

"I am afraid it is not a good idea to have you in the building while talks of acquisition are happening upstairs. Business decisions are beyond my pay grade I'm afraid, and in here there are no secrets."

Except the encrypted ones.

"Your name is on the door," he said simply. "And on the header of the pages you hold. You have more power than you think, doctor."

How to explain to a 2000 year old vampire the intricacies of her own family hierarchy? How to faithfully admit to him, or anyone, how utterly and undeniably wrong he was?

"How about tomorrow night, after you are done working? We can go on another walk and I can tell you about Leonardo DaVinci."

She blinked several times. "You knew him?"

Godric nodded. "He taught me how to mirror-write. Perhaps I can teach you so you can safeguard your secrets."

Kate couldn't help but smile. She taught herself how to mirror-write when she was 6. She weighed the opportunity cost of giving up after-hours research time to go on nighttime musings with vampire Godric. What he offered was something that no book, seminar or prestigious journal could offer. It was perspective, untapped knowledge, answers to mysteries she could only imagine.

"Tomorrow at 10 PM. And we don't talk about Bonne Nuit, or Bellefleur Tech."

Godric gave a small bow. "Nothing would delight me more, Dr. Bellefleur."

"Godric?" She finally mustered the courage to turn the knob, now knowing what tomorrow's promises hold. "Call me Kate."

An:

Am I... In love with Godric? Shit I might be.

A little Easter surprise for my beautiful readers! April and May are going to be unhinged months for me, so I decided to post the last written + edited chapter I had in the vault. So for now, leave me tons of love and I'll post again when I can! xoxo