New Orleans has at first sight a very imposing and handsome appearance, but beyond its mask there lies secrets. Dark secrets that can bring an inevitable end if you'd dig them up. Though the streets thrive with never-ending parties, souls searching for freedom, and kisses being stolen in the shadows, the city is no longer what it used to be; eclipsed by darkness and stained red from the lives taken. It isn't safe for anyone anymore. Not with the vampires ruling the city now. With the new king's rule, comes strict orders and the impending fear of death if you so much as lift a finger to preform a spell.

Diane Boudreaux can remember a time when the city was peaceful. When she had been in love and surrounded by family and when she used to dance the night away with her arms curved around the man she loved. But all of that serenity turned into ash in her palms when the flames took everything she loved away from her. The woman hadn't wanted to return to the land that used to be her home, but she had no choice. She couldn't just ignore the voicemail left on her phone from her goddaughter.

The streets were busy and loud, music filling her ears from the musicians on every street corner. Diane weaved her way through the crowd and when she came upon a familiar shop, she glanced around her. Diane didn't spot any familiar faces in the crowd. She wasn't being followed. Good. She wanted it to stay that way. The last thing she wanted was for Marcel Gerard to know that she had returned.

Diane pulled open the door and stepped over the threshold of Jardin Gris Voodoo Shop. There was a small chime from the bronze bell hanging from the doorway that announced her presence as she approached the counter. The shop smelled just as she remembered, yet didn't look quite the same. Drying herbs still hung from the wall beyond the counter, and bottles of potions and a variety of different sized candles littered the surrounding shelves, but it appeared to have had a little remodeling done since the last time she visited.

From the back room, Katherine Marvellio emerged and Diane greeted the familiar face with a smile and received one in return from the dark-skinned witch.

"Well, well . . . Diane Boudreaux. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Katie said as she leaned against the counter.

Diane ran her fingertips along the shelf of herbs. "Lovely to see you again, Katie. Tell me, how is your mother?" There was a gleam of sadness that flashed in Katie's brown eyes, and it didn't go unnoticed by the Boudreaux witch. Diane frowned, knowing what words were about to come next.

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Diane's voice was kind, sincere. "Your mother was a kind woman and an exceptional witch. It was an honor to call her my friend."

"I'm sorry, too." There was a brief pause before Katie smiled. "Now, I'm certain you didn't come back just to chitchat with an old friend. Tell me, what is it you want?"

Diane shook her head, a smirk curving onto her face. "Always a perceptive one, you Marvellios." She dug into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Unlocking the screen, she began scrolling through her gallery. "I'm looking for someone and was hoping you might've seen her around."

"Alright." Katie motioned her forward to get a look at the photo displayed on Diane's cell phone. After getting a good look at the woman, she nodded her head. "Yeah, she looks familiar."

"Do you know where I can find her?" Diane questioned, desperation in her words. But she had every right to act desperate right now. She couldn't allow Andrea to just wonder through the bayou all alone. It could be dangerous for her. And so could New Orleans, for werewolves weren't allowed in the city. Not since Marcel Gerard took the reins.

"After I closed up last night, I went over to Rousseau's. She was sitting a couple stools down from me at the bar. Pretty sure I overheard Jane-Anne mention that it was her third time in there. Might be a good place to start if I were you."

Diane sighed, relieved. Last night. That had to mean Andrea was still alive. Most importantly, she was in the city and not wandering aimlessly through the bayou. It would be easier to find her now, or at least she hoped. "Thank you, Katie." She pocketed her cell phone. "You have no idea how much I appreciate your help."

Katie could tell how much Diane cared for her friend and quirked a brow. "She's not just a friend, is she?"

A soft laugh fell from her lips. "As I said: always a perceptive one." Diane shook her head as she crossed her arms. "No, she's not."

"Who is she to you?"

"She's family."

"Descendant of yours? I take it you're trying to find her before she performs a spell in the city and gets herself into trouble?" Katie assumed.

"Not exactly. She's my goddaughter, and thankfully not a witch," Diane replied. "I received a concerning voicemail from her and thought I better make sure she's alright. Never can be too sure these days."

Katie hummed in agreement. "Ain't that the truth."

"Thank you for your help, Katie."

"Of course. And hey," she called after Diane, who was heading towards the door. The elder witch turned and met her gaze over her shoulder, hand pausing on the doorknob. "Don't be a stranger. It'd be nice to have some dinner before you go. Maybe catch up on what you've been up to for the past decade? Oh, and I can meet this goddaughter of yours that you've failed to mention all these years."

Diane smiled. "That sounds lovely. I'll be sure to call you when I find her."

"Good luck!" Katie called as the door shut behind herself. In response, Diane sent her a small wave through the window.

As she made her way toward Rousseau's, her mind wondered to the voicemail left on her phone. Diane, it's Andrea. I found something interesting about my family a few days ago. You know that strange birthmark on my shoulder? The one that looks like a crescent moon? Well, apparently it has some significance, after all. I'm in New Orleans right now, trying to look for this Crescent wolf pack. I know you said you've lived here before, so I thought maybe you could join me? I'll see you soon. Or maybe not. Either way, talk soon. Love you.

Diane wished she had heard that voicemail sooner. Maybe if she wasn't rekindling an old romance, she wouldn't have missed her call. She could have been able to stop Andrea before she left. Instead, her goddaughter was alone in the city and desperate to learn her origin story. Something that Diane had no choice but to protect her from since she was an orphaned toddler.

When she arrived at Rousseau's, Diane opened the door and walked in. There was hardly anyone inside, and after taking a quick peek around, she didn't see Andrea anywhere. But she noticed one person she recognized.

The woman in her mid-thirties and of average build was dressed in a loose-fitted blouse and a pair of jeans with an apron wrapped around her waist. A pair of earrings hung down from her earlobes and a matching necklace hung from her neck; rings littered her fingers and bangles fitted loosely to her wrists. Rich brunette locks that resembled the dirt in a potted plant were twisted back into a bun, and her brown eyes stared down at the cup she was drying off in her hands. Jane-Anne Devereaux looked the exact same as she had last time she seen her.

Diane approached the counter and slid onto a bar stool. "Hello Jane-Anne."

The woman's shoulders tensed for a moment before they relaxed, and she turned around. Jane-Anne smiled. "Diane Boudreaux," she greeted. "Been a while since I've seen your face around here."

"Indeed, it has," Diane agreed. "I hope your daughter is well. She was only, what, three when I last saw her? Such a tiny thing. My, she'd be ─"

"Monique is dead," Jane-Anne cut her off.

Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and shock. "What?"

"She's dead, and if it's alright with you, I'd rather not talk about Monique." There was an edge in her tone that suggested the conversation need end before she grew upset.

"Of course," Diane complied. Her voice was soft, kind. She was curious of how it happened, of course, but left it at that, not wanting to force the mourning mother to speak of such a sore subject. Aside from raising Andrea, Diane didn't know what it was like to be a mother. She couldn't sympathize with Jane-Anne's pain. But to carry a child and then have her ripped from the world? She knew that there was no greater pain.

"So, what can I get you?"

"Nothing. I didn't come for your famous gumbo. I actually came to see if you could help me with something."

Jane-Anne glanced behind Diane at her customers before lowering her voice for only the woman to hear. "Diane, we can't do magic, you know this. I'll be killed."

Diane rolled her eyes. "Oh calm down, I didn't come here for a spell. If I wanted to preform one, I would do it myself. Besides, I can sense your low on gas, so I doubt you'd be of much help with a spell, anyway."

A tight-lipped smile pulled onto Jane-Anne's face. "Well, not all of us can be an all powerful Boudreaux witch."

"Careful Jane-Anne, you almost sound envious," Diane smirked. Not that she could blame her. She'd be envious as well. The Boudreaux bloodline stretched all the way back to the creation of the Old Ones and, perhaps, further beyond. Diane herself was over a century old and doesn't look a day over twenty-seven. With the power of the Boudreaux witches before her, Diane's magic has never failed to provide her youthful beauty. "My goodness, whatever would the French Quarter coven think if you deserted them to join little ole me?"

The Deveraux witch rolled her eyes. "Always the charmer."

Diane smirked, "I try."

"So, if you're not here for a spell, then what are you here for? You haven't been back in New Orleans for over a decade now and suddenly you're back without a word? Sounds a little strange for a witch. Especially one of your age."

"I'm not here to stay, I'm just passing through." Diane reached for her phone and unlocked the screen. The photo of Andrea was still up from when she showed Katie. She turned it around for Jane-Anne to see. "I'm looking for this girl. Word has it she's been spotted in here. Three times, in fact, so there's no need to lie."

"Yeah, I've seen her around. Andrea's obsessed with Sophie's gumbo."

Diane could tell that the Devereaux woman was holding back on her. She raised a brow, pressing for more information. "And?"

"And she was asking about her family. Came here looking for the Crescents."

Diane pocketed her cell phone with a sigh. "And what did you tell her?"

"Not much." Jane-Anne leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. "She only comes here to eat. She doesn't share too much with me. But from what I've gathered, Andrea's been asking around the Quarter."

"Right. Well, no one will remember anything. Her people were run out of the city ages ago. Besides, even if they knew something, I doubt they'd speak of wolf business. Not when Marcel has eyes and ears everywhere. Speaking of which ─ does he know she's been searching for them?"

"Not that I know of."

Diane appeared relieved. "Any idea where I can look for her?"

"Maybe her hotel?"

"Do you know which one she's at?"

"Somewhere on St. Ann, I believe." She offered Diane a small smile. "I hope you find her."

"So do I," Diane sighed as she slipped off the barstool.

　
✧ ✦ ✧
　

After leaving Rousseau's, Diane Boudreaux visited the hotels near St. Ann in search of her goddaughter. And none of the employees in any of them knew who Andrea was.

"Are you certain that you haven't seen her?" Diane asked the desk clerk one more time, just to be safe.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I really haven't seen her," the man apologized.

"Thanks anyway," Diane sighed before walking out the door. The woman took a moment to glance around in search for a hotel that she may have missed, but there wasn't any. She had checked every single one on St. Ann. Turning on her heel, she started down the sidewalk toward Rousseau's so she could ask Jane-Anne if she maybe got it wrong and that Andrea wasn't staying anywhere in the French Quarter area.

Then, as she paused at a crosswalk, something caught her eye.

There, on the corner of St. Ann, was an Inn. It was a small, beige building with a balcony that overlooked the street and probably only had twelve rooms, but it was a place that Andrea would take up residence. Diane looked both ways before crossing the street.

When she reached the Inn, Diane pulled open the front door and stepped inside. The walls were lined with fine brick and wood, decorated with art and mirrors. There were a few potted plants, a parlor, a sitting room with a variety of books, and a television for entertainment. Off to the side, there was a counter and a woman in a pristine white uniform standing behind it.

"Hello. Welcome to Inn on St. Ann," the woman greeted.

Diane returned the woman's smile. "Hello. I was wondering if you had anyone named Andrea staying here?"

"Let me have a look," she replied, her eyes falling to her computer screen. "As it turns out, we have an Andrea Labonair staying with us. Would you like me to contact her for you?"

A breath of relief fell from her lips. Finally, Diane thought, then said, "No, thank you. What room is she staying in?"

"Room seven. You'll find it on the second floor, first door on your right."

"Great. Thank you," Diane replied.

As she made her way up the staircase, Diane's thoughts ran a mile a minute. She had so much to stay to her goddaughter, starting with why the hell she was incapable of answering her cell phone.

When she got to the top of the stairs, she found a hallway of six doors. Just like the woman mentioned, the seventh door was on her right. Diane walked up to it and half the mind to just barge in, but knocked thrice. Andrea answered the door, and her eyes widened when she saw her godmother standing on the other side of the door with a disappointed expression on her face.

"Aunt Diane."

"You have some serious explaining to do," Diane said as she walked inside. She glanced around and found a bed, bathroom, balcony door and a single suitcase within the room.

Andrea sighed as she closed the door. "I know. Look, I'm sorry that I missed your birthday. Something just came up."

"I don't care about my birthday, Andrea!" Diane exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? I've been calling and calling and calling and you never answered. I even went to Mystic Falls looking for you."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did. And when I didn't find you there and your friend Tyler mentioned not seeing you for a while, I thought maybe you were dead."

"I'm sorry," Andrea apologized. "I didn't mean to make you worry or think that I was dead. I would never do that to you."

Diane's eye softened, and she sighed. "I know you wouldn't. But Andrea ─ you cannot do that to me ever again." Her voice cracked." I can't lose you too."

When Andrea saw tears glisten in her aunt's eyes, her heart clenched and she wrapped the woman in a hug. Diane closed her eyes and hugged her goddaughter tight. They stayed that way for a little while before Andrea stepped back.

As she wiped her eyes, Diane said, "I got your voicemail last night. Tell me what's been going on."

"It's a long story."

"You do know that I'm incapable of dying until I bear a child, right? Seeing as that will never happen, I have all the time in the world," Diane smirked as she plopped down on the mattress. "Now, tell me everything."

.･:✦ ────────────── ✦:･.

a/n: Another chapter down!
I've been able to get a lot of
revamping done lately, so be
prepared for more updates
to come later today. I hope
you enjoyed the chapter.
And don't worry, we'll get
to season one eventually. I
just have a little bit of plot
building to do first.