The chime of the little bell that announced arrivals to the small flower shop on the corner of Pauger Street was a soft but pleasant one, designed to make people feel welcome.

Evie-Marie Benoit didn't feel welcome. She felt mild irritation mixed with sadness, a combination that added up to a strong desire to punch something. The delicate ambience of the shop added to Evie's overall frustration. It was a New Orleans fixture, dripping with charm.

Everything about the shop on the corner was white, pink, and impossibly pretty. It was fragile, from the soft melody of the bell to the pristine white flowers on a table near the window to the owner of the shop. When the sound made its proclamation, she appeared with a smile on her pale pink lips and blonde, bouncing curls.

Even her eyes were a stunning shade of sky-blue, accented with the slightest brush of matching eyeshadow. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two, and her youth made her fragile, like the first blush of spring.

"May I help you?" The girl who appeared behind the counter was cheerful, too cheerful for Evie's liking. "I was just closing up for the evening, but I have time for one last delivery."

Evie bit her lip, the perfect shade of ruby on slightly tanned skin a contrast to the delicacy of the shop. At thirty-three, Evie in her power suits and impossible heels were impeccable and almost intimidating. The delicate mannerisms of girlhood were long gone if they'd ever been there at all.

A handkerchief hidden in her hand, Evie glared at the girl. She couldn't help it. She hated everything this store was and everything that girl was. The existence of both felt like a mockery.

"My mother passed away last night. I am overwhelmed taking care of business, so you'll forgive me if I seem unpleasant. Everything about this is unpleasant." Evie struggled to keep her tone even. "I need to choose flowers for her funeral. I don't know the first thing about flowers."

The expression on the young girl's face changed, and everything in her hands quickly fell to the counter. "I'm sorry, ma'am. A loss like that, that's hardest. You never forget your parents or your children. Let me get you a chair and a cup of coffee, please?"

She hurried to pull a chair up to the other side of the counter and helped Evie to sit. Evie didn't stop glaring. She hated being a breakable object. Evie was the only thing in the entire shop that wasn't, but the girl was too young and too soft to know that. The other woman's face showed only pain and empathy as she went to fix coffee.

"My name is Lisette Cardin, and I'm the owner here at Blooms And Bulbs. We help many people in just your situation, so don't worry about seeming unpleasant or overwhelming. Grief takes many forms. The important thing is to let us help honour your mother in the way she would have liked."  Lisette's voice was high-pitched but soothing rather than squeaky.  "Do you take cream or sugar in your coffee?"

Evie nodded her head. She tried her best to seem amiable, at least. Her mother would be disappointed at Evie's brusqueness, as she always had been. " One of each, please. Thank you, Lisette. It's nice to meet you."  Evie felt her head spinning. She didn't remember to introduce herself--or did she?

"It's my pleasure. What kind of flowers do you think best represent your late mother? Did she have a favourite colour or style? Not everyone likes roses, as strange as it sounds. They prefer pastel Spring tulips."

She brings the coffee across to Evie, rather than simply passing it. "There you are, ma'am. One cream, one sugar."

Evie's shoulders slumped, but her eyes studied Lisette. "Does it make me a terrible person if I don't know? She was a lot like you, I think. At least, she was a lot like this shop. She liked things that are ladylike and beautiful. Pink, white, purple, and that stuff that isn't the flowers but it is always with the flowers. Do you know what I mean?" Evie's hand shook a little as she lowered her lips to the coffee cup.

The sound of Lisette's laughter ringing through the shop was much like the bell at the front door. There was something warm yet appropriately subdued. Evie understood why people described the place as "charming". 

"You mean baby's breath? That's what it's called, the white buds that go in flower arrangements. In all honesty, many people hate it, because it seems to multiply. We go through a truck full of the stuff each week." Lisette's smile was a gentle one.

"Your mother sounds like a woman of very refined taste. I suspect she truly did like roses, but also the femininity of lilies and the light scent of the white orchid." Lisette hummed lightly, before catching herself in a sharp reprimand. Cheerful humming around the grief-stricken was in bad taste, and she knew it.

Evie's head tilted in agreement. "Refined. Yes, that is the right word."

She sipped her coffee, and mused, "The funeral is in two days. I don't mean to rush you, but if there's any way you could put together a sample bouquet so I can see what you imagine? I will pay, of course, for everything you think is appropriate. "

Lisette nodded, her movements graceful as she set to work, filling a vase with beloved and joyful blooms. "Some people think flowers for a funeral need to be dark and dramatic. I think they should celebrate the beauty of the person who lived, not mourn death. The only certainty is that we all will die, so I try to think more about the gift that is life."

Even the purple lilacs Lisette chose were lighter in hue, her personality shining through her work. Evie managed a tiny smile. "You have a very optimistic outlook on the world. I suppose you can't spend all day around beautiful things and not live with joy. I look at such beautiful things, and I feel sadness. Beauty is always short-lived."

Lisette's large blue eyes responded with compassion. "It is grief that makes you look at it that way, ma'am. Those who know loss see the inevitable shadow of death in even a newborn baby or a cute puppy. In six months or so, you'll come by here, and you'll feel the joy I do from these flowers."

Evie blinked, and there was a catch in her throat as the girl added the baby's breath, more than was usual. She watched Lisette's skilled hands with their pretty pink nails tying a blue bow around the vase, reminiscent of a perfect spring day. "I hope so. They are exquisite. I know that, but I feel no joy." Evie stood up in her usual, proper fashion, handing the half-empty coffee cup to Lisette. "Thank you, Mademoiselle, for your kindness on this trying day."

Lisette nodded, looking uncertain what to say next. Fortunately, the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the solemn awkwardness within the flower shop. "Thank you for calling Blooms And Bulbs. How may I help you?"

It was the swiftest of movements, the tiniest of gasps that ensured Lisette never heard the caller's question. As soon as Evie's perfectly-manicured hand covered the girl's nose and mouth, Evie hung up the phone. She never even questioned the handkerchief, Evie thought with some pride.

Lisette falls into Evie's arms like a rag doll. She stopped a moment to stroke the girl's precious, doll-like curls. "That's my good girl. You didn't listen. Beauty is always short-lived."

***

Evie struggled more than she thought she would, moving Lisette and the lovely vase of flowers down the old creaky stairs. The girl was not heavy. The living were merely harder to carry than the dead. Evie was more familiar with the latter.

She stopped cold as she saw the figure of a man, pacing. He had over a foot in height over Evie, but he looked frightened and guilty the moment he saw his wife clutching the flower girl's limp body.

A wave of fury washed over Evie as she saw what her husband had done. Instead of the cold concrete of the cellar, naturally chilled and perfect for a flower shop, he'd laid down blankets and emptied boxes of green leaves and pieces that looked like giant blades of grass. Almost in a sort of reverence, he'd arranged a crown made of baby's breath.

In a burst of anger, Evie let Lisette's body drop on to the ground as carelessly as if she'd moved a sack of flour. "How dare you, Arnauld? After everything, you make her look sainted. She is no victim here. You both get what you deserve."

He sagged against the wall. "Punish me, Evie. Do what you like with me; leave her."

Evie's eyes narrowed. "What do you think this is? You betrayed me in the way a husband has no way to betray his wife. You gave her the love that was meant for me, and for what?"

Her words cut like a razor as she threw the flowers on top of Lisette's body, and the vase flew in Arnauld's direction. It missed him but shattered irreparably on the ground. "You still love her. The death of someone you love is something you never forget, Arnauld. Lisette just told me that not so long ago. At least she knows she won't be forgotten."

Evie trembled as her husband grabbed her by the shoulders. "Please, Evie. I do love her. She is so full of life and joy and innocence."

Her hand instinctively collided against his face. "She is everything I am not, isn't that what you mean?" Evie's words hissed in Arnauld's direction. "You didn't just put a ring on my finger and give me three children. I gave my life to you. What is a greater honour? Still, this is how you repay me."

She stepped away from him, her eyes boring holes into his skull as he hung his head. "If I were a stronger, smarter woman, I'd keep her, and we'd murder you instead. Love is a curse. It has made me weak."

Tears roll down his cheeks. "Evie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I never wanted that, and I hate seeing you like this because of me. She shouldn't suffer for my weakness."  His face dropped into his hands, barely concealing sobs. "At least let me do it. Let me say goodbye."

Evie's response was a harsh laugh. "That would be perfect, wouldn't it? You'd turn her as you did me, and have two mates, one for each arm.." She knelt in front of Lisette, her hand pushing the handkerchief over her face. The last thing she needed was for the girl to wake up screaming. "That will never be my life, Arnauld. Once someone sacrifices everything for you, you do not abuse the gift."

Almost with tenderness, Evie positioned the bouquet between Lisette's fingers. The pink chipped nails were at the age to be carrying a wedding bouquet. Instead, they clutch the bouquet she'd made for Evie's mother.

"Go now." Evie's voice was calm, though quiet and mournful. "Close the store, take anything from the register and whatever souvenir you want, so long as you keep it from me. I've already checked. There are no cameras. Leave through the front and walk home and never look back. As far as anyone is concerned, we never knew this girl."

"She deserved to be happy." The voice whispered from the middle-aged man was one of a lost little boy.

She felt Arnauld's eyes linger on Lisette. "Do not feel sorry for her, Arnauld. We all deserved happiness at some point. She is paying for her crimes as well as yours. The next time, you will pay for your own."

Evie's body stiffened. "They are lovely, aren't they? She was like a heroine from Tennyson or Shakespeare.  She was so innocent, though you and I both know otherwise.." She paused, and murmured, "I am not heartless, Arnauld. I let her choose the flowers for her funeral."

She placed the handkerchief over the girl's face a final time. As Evie picked her up, little pieces of baby's breath fell onto Evie's lap. The situation was a tragedy, but there was no turning back. Evie stroked Lisette's blonde curls in an almost maternal way, whispering comforting words to her.

The moment her lips found the side of the girl's neck and the sharp fangs slid in so effortlessly that Lisette never had time to wake up at all, Evie could hear her husband's frightened retreat. Her head buzzed with euphoria and triumph as the girl's blood flowed through her veins. Arnauld wanted to save Lisette, but he loved Evie more. He would always love Evie more.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before nothing more came from the once-bubbly Lisette. Evie posed her perfectly in a funeral shroud fit for a modern-day medieval princess and licked the wound to see the appearance of the familiar mark. It would only linger for a little while, but Evie took pride in the infinity symbol the bite mark would become.

Evie felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes at the soft chime of the bell, announcing Arnauld's departure. She loved him, her husband and her Sire both, yet she was keenly aware of marrying a man far weaker than she. Evie was aware that his sensitivity was almost contagious. She'd never felt empathy for her victims before, and it led her to act impulsively and without thinking.

Perhaps that was why, even without him near, she couldn't resist stroking Lisette's flawless cheek one more time, oblivious to a thorn stuck among the mass of baby's breath. She strategically arranged the white flowers to cover her mark. "He did love you, you know.  If only he hadn't, things might have been different.

Evie never saw it coming. The small prick from the thorn drew the minuscule drop of blood onto Evie's finger, but it was enough to rouse the unconscious Lisette. Her body knew by instinct what to do from little else from the mere smell of blood. Everyone had a survival mechanism.

The immaculately-groomed vampire did not struggle as Lisette discovered her teeth could do more than grasp Evie's finger. The tiny drop of blood became a newborn's fangs tearing into the skin of Evie's wrist.

She could have stopped. Evie could have pulled away. Instead, she wove baby's breath through Lisette's golden curls as the girl's sky-blue eyes opened wide.

"Welcome to the world, little one. We women, we are always stronger. "

Evie's eyes fell to the bouquet between Lisette's hands, the flawless way the girl's fingers curled. Lisette Cardin's funeral was made to be beautiful.

Her rebirth was even more exquisite.

Word Count: 2497