Prologue:
Pierre and Babet – Babet POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay baby girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, call me Pierre.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Babet's Epiphany

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