Rebirth: The Strong Pregnant Lady

The days passed quickly and the music festival in New Orleans arrived. The traditional festival had always been lively, with a sea of people and loud laughter.

As Rebecca walked along St. Peter's Street alone and the crowd gathered around her, she sighed, feeling nothing but infinite irony. Once again, Klaus had broken her heart.

Once again, the trust shattered. Klaus was always like this, and every time she discovered a glimmer of hope, he would personally destroy it. Terrifying elder brother, biting her lips, Rebecca secretly laughed at herself. It had been more than a thousand years, how could she not learn to teach him a lesson?

There was a gust of wind behind her, and the air was filled with the familiar smell of a man — Marcel, her former lover.

Rebecca moved as nimbly as a ghost. She looked at Marcel, her chest too close to his back. She was in a bad mood, just in time to vent her excess anger. "Are you following me?"

Marcel suddenly approached and the tip of his nose appeared before Rebecca's eyes. His expression was all ambiguous, his mouth was only a few millimeters away, without any trace of politeness. "Maybe it's you who's in my way, my darling ~"

"If you give Elijah back to us, maybe I won't just be blocking your way next time. Believe me, Marcel, I'll kill you myself."

Marcel turned to look at her, his expression one of indifference and hatred, "Rebecca, what's wrong? Your family has given you another blow, are you angry with me?" Rebecca began to attack. She put her elbow on Marcel's neck and kicked him viciously in the stomach. Marcel dodged them one by one, the habitual questioning coming from his mouth.

"I don't need anyone to mock me, Marcel. If you want to die,... Go on. " The more Rebecca fought, the more spirited she became. It was as if her state of mind had become more stable. She was wholeheartedly trying to beat up this bastard who was acting all mysterious. She liked him the most!

"Rebecca," Marcel took her hand back into his arms, his stomach was already bruised by her knee, the little wild cat was too powerful, he hugged the struggling little woman tightly, Marcel didn't seem to care, his voice was soft and coquettish, "But, darling, are you really willing to give it up? You are willing to kill me? "

On the other side, the witches were very angry because they had lost another witch — Katie.

Katie's funeral was very messy. A small part of her mana was released into the earth. When she died, her body could not be found because of forbidden techniques. Everyone felt both sorry and sad for her.

Sophie told them that Klaus had taken a group of vampires and torn the bodies to shreds, and that Katie had put her name in the name of betrayal, which made the witches at the funeral unhappy.

They hated traitors, but they had no choice but to accept their power.

Yes, the witches had to come, they could not resist the power that was scattered throughout the land, they had to fight for it.

Sophie had arranged the funeral alone. She had always been known for her rebellion, so no one had noticed her guilt or depression.

It seemed to him that Sophie had fallen into a deep self-reproach for indirectly killing the girl, and Sabin patted her on the shoulder.

Sophie looked at the rags and the hair wrapped in the linen, and lowered her head, hiding an inexplicable emotion in the hair of her cape.

Perhaps it was self-blame, or perhaps it was gloom.

Agnes wouldn't miss a chance to laugh at Sophie's mistake. She looked at Sabin, exchanged a quiet look, and then her lips curled into a vicious smile.

"I told you long ago that Sophie, those sinful allies, would do no good at all."

She was tired now. "At least I have something to do. Marcel will have his revenge."

Sabin had wanted to leave with Sophie, but Agnes grabbed her and pushed her back between the tombstones, her old, secretive face smiling like a cracked orange peel. "Sabin, tell them what you see, tell everyone the truth," she croaked. About the child! "

Sophie was a talker, and her grandmother, Carpathia, was the greatest talker witch of her time, having been in charge for generations of talkative spirits related to witches. Sabin sometimes seemed to mutter, but she was not necessarily wrong, and occasionally gave an omen or two.

But, in Sophie's words, her best friend, who was normally insane, spoke a little exaggeratedly, habitually exaggerating the facts.

Sabin gulped, a circle of bruises forming on her hand. She looked at Sophie with eyes that trembled with fear, with disbelief that she could not shake.

"..." Yes, that werewolf girl, she, her child … I saw it. It... Evil, daughter of the Infernal King … Its strength was even stronger than its mixed bloodline father! It will destroy our New Orleans and create a new era! "

Fear flashed in the eyes of Agnes and the others. What kind of monster was such a powerful force?

"It will bring about the extinction of witches! All witches will perish, werewolves, vampires, and... It will be ruled by it, and it will be the true king, the terrifying successor! "

Agnes and the other witches were shocked. They turned around in fright, trying to find a good solution, but Sophie didn't want to believe it. She simply pushed Agnes's hand away and prepared to leave.

Tch, it's just a baby, just a magical bloodline, they would believe it too — a destroyer, a devil's son!

Sophie did not turn around. Her emotions were so complicated that she did not want to participate in the radicals' actions, so she did not see Agnes's vicious eyes fixed on her.

Sophie and White Dew were connected, trying to kill the child... It's convenient, isn't it?

Sabin lowered his head in frustration and innocence, as if he was forced to talk about White Dew's child, that magical child, that, that terrifying devil's son.

Bai Lu hugged the demon's son and slept soundly. She didn't have the spare energy to take care of everyone's emotions. Currently, her own safety and freedom were the key.

The father of the son of the devil was talking about his recent activities and practical results, addressing Camille and a retro shorthand typewriter.

He was preparing the gift that White Dew had asked for, a memoir for his darling baby, and leaving some of his own mark.

Camille, Klaus decided to use his talents to the best of his abilities. Look, how appropriate, watch Marcel's spy, his stenographer, and, by the way, help him analyze his psychological problems.

Camille studied psychology. Klaus had always known that he wasn't very good at interacting with people. In that case, in the future, he would need some reasonable and appropriate advice on family relationships and parenting.

Camil was especially furious. When Klaus typed out a command to her, her hands couldn't help but let out a bunch of fantasy stories.

Klaus is not a snake disease + deep paranoia, is he? Camille is in deep doubt about whether to call the police or not.

The typewriter let out a sharp sound. Pah pah pah. She speechlessly rolled her eyes at Klaus. "…" "I didn't mean to offend you, but I didn't know that you were threatening me by inviting me here …" Could it be that he was writing a science fiction monster novel for his ridiculous deep paranoia?

Klaus stood aside, his manner natural and amiable. "Because I like your company, and I think you can understand people as complicated as me."

Klaus began to talk about his memoirs, starting with his initial return. "You know that I came to New Orleans to investigate a threat against me, only to find out that a young woman was pregnant. She needed the protection of my family. My brother Elijah, who was always the one who did good, tried to manipulate me to help her. He thought this child might be my salvation. "

Camille thinks of his kind brother, the gentle gentleman, it's so hard, the virtue of his brother, no wonder Elijah used to clean up his mess and wipe his ass.

Klaus was still explaining his plan in great detail, and he also sometimes thought about how he should communicate with others in depth, "The problem now is, I later learned that there was a young woman who was definitely a girl, a little witch with great potential. She was imprisoned by a tyrant …" I want to help these two girls, maybe protect one and release the other, so analysis... Camille, do you think my actions are evil? "

Klaus had never rejected evil, but he also needed some support to tell him that he was not wrong, at a time when no one understood him.

Camille looks at him, her dark eyes full of pity and pity, her point clear. "I always thought evil wasn't absolute. Your wickedness never needs to be explained... But, I have to say, I now find that your relationships are very unstable, and that stress-affected paranoia has long been a problem with anger management out of control. "

Klaus went to the window and watched Camille frown at his strangeness, take a deep breath, and then come to a ridiculous conclusion. "You're afraid of being abandoned, and I think it might be helpful for you to talk to a professional."

Klaus shrugged, casual and easy, she didn't understand, it didn't matter, as long as his memoir was born. "I think I prefer to talk to you, so I'm going to offer you a job as my stenographer."

Camille took a deep breath, incomprehensible. For Elijah's sake, she asked gently for the last time, "Okay, then what am I supposed to do?"

"Of course it's my memoirs. My story should be known by others." Klaus looked at Camil, feeling more and more satisfied with what he saw. "And it will give us time to discuss other interesting topics, many interesting topics … For example, how is your handsome suitor Marcel? "