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It has been thirty minutes since we left the airport. Thirty minutes of awkward silence, and I'm getting desperate for the courage to initiate some sort of conversation. Miles of endless trees and gas stations flicker past, and I heave a quiet sigh of discomfort.

I'm sitting silently beside Rebecca, and the denim covering my behind is as uncomfortable as I am on the impossibly expensive leather seats – it keeps slipping on the shiny surface, unwilling and/or unable to stay put. My hair is tucked behind my ears, and Rebecca speaks as I run a hand through it.

"You finally got bangs, huh?" she comments, her voice slightly strained, and I gave her a quick look. No freaking duh, I want to snap, but of course I don't. Instead, I give her a nod, reaching up to touch the bangs in question as if to reassure her; Yes, I am aware that I have acquired bangs, thanks for double-checking! Rebecca sighs, as if sensing my sarcastic thoughts, and leans back against the black leather, staring up at the ceiling of the car.

"Oh, Nick," she sighs, and I smile at the nickname. First, my parents named me Nicolette, and they were diligent in using it for about a day, or so Rebecca had told me when I was old enough to understand such things. Then, it had been simplified to Nicole, which was much more easily said and written. Rebecca had, in her early teens, further shortened it to Nick.

No one calls me Nicolette, and as a result everyone thinks that my given name is Nicole. I don't allow people to call me by Nick, or even Nicky, because that was the name that Rebecca gave me. It's special, sacred even. Hearing the name after so many years tugs my memory backward in time, but I keep my mind put, unwilling to let my focus waver.

Rebecca abruptly cuts into the silence, saying, "I've played this out in my head a million times…guess it goes to prove that these things can't be fit into a schedule, huh?" she laughs tiredly, and I am relieved. I feel the exact same way, and I want to say so. I open my mouth, and – go figure – say something completely different.

"Why didn't you contact me?" I ask, and am surprised at how hoarse my voice sounds in the muffled hum that is the interior of the car. I clear my throat experimentally, and look over to see that Rebecca is staring at me, silently pleading with me to understand. She reaches over to take my hand, ignoring my slight grimace.

I'm not touchy-feely, at all. Hugging is okay as long as I'm the one controlling the length and intensity of the action. It's the same with handshaking. As long as it is quick and to the point – no creepy lingering – I'm willing to grit my teeth and bear it. I don't know when the aversion started, all I knew that it had been there for as long as I could remember. Rebecca, who in my memories had been extremely emotional, had been the only one around whom I relaxed the no-touching rule. Even at a young age I could sense that her need for physical reassurance far surpassed my dislike of being touched.

"Because of Mom and Dad, Nick. You know how controlling they are. Do you really think they would let you see anything I sent?" she asks seriously, and I nod in understanding. Everything is monitored in the Silverberg house, from letters to email. It wasn't until college that I finally rebelled – in a tiny, insignificant way, but it was rebelling nonetheless – and set up my own college email account. It was at this email address that Rebecca contacted me, but that had been after I graduated college.

"Also (and I know this sounds completely selfish) but I haven't exactly been sitting around and twiddling my thumbs. When I was cut off from Mom and Dad, I had to make a life for myself. After I left home, I hitched a ride to Los Angeles, where I started dancing at a local bar."

My eyes widen, and I can't help but cutting in, "You mean, strip dan–"

"Yes." Her voice is crisp and honest; there is no shame in her expression. "I made more in one year than Mom and Dad did in two. With that money, I applied and was accepted to the Art Institute of Texas, where I graduated with a double major in fashion design and business management. When I finished, I was twenty-three. You had just graduated high school, I remember. I left you a message, you know. It was a good, ten minute rant about how happy I was that you had graduated, how much I missed you, how I hoped that I would see you in the near future…things like that."

I blink stupidly, shocked to my core. I had never been told of a phone message, and I wonder if my parents even bothered to listen to the entire message, or if they had deleted it once they recognized my sister's voice. The thought sent hot anger flushing through my system.

"And then?" I prompted, forcing my feelings down. Not now, I scold, and focus on my older sister. Rebecca is quiet for a minute or two, and I notice how well kept and shiny her hair is. From my dim memories of her high school career, I remember that her hair had been longer than mine is now, and she had used a curl iron every morning in order to create girlish curls. Now, her naturally straight hair falls to her shoulders, giving her a strangely dignified air.

"I started working as a designer for a small chain, and after a year there I was offered a change to manage the chain of Bloomingdales in Shreveport. I accepted, and they flew me out here. I met a vampire customer who wanted to have a dress designed, and since none of the other designers were willing to do it – they aren't very vampire-friendly, even though I, the manager, am – I said that I would. Her name is Beatrice Tavener, and I learned later that she was a vampire Sheriff – a very high-ranked position in vampire society. She was so happy with my work that she offered me a commission to make formal gowns and suits for her vampire court, while allowing me to keep my management gig. I was more than happy to accept, and I've been doing that ever since. Beatrice and I have grown pretty close, and that's how it happened that I was invited to a private vampire ball. Bill was there, and that's how we met."

I stare at her, letting the information soak in, unable to formulate an appropriate response. My sister, the sister that my parents labeled as "dumb", "trashy", and "pathetic", was undoubtedly the strongest person I had ever met. She had worked from the bottom up, making a name for herself, getting herself educated, making connections with powerful people. If only our parents could see her now, proudly sitting in her beautiful green dress, with diamonds in her ears, elegant high-heeled sandals on her feet. Rebecca looked, to say the least, like a queen. I tell her so, and she laughs nervously, her eyes darting toward the front of the car, where her fiancée is assumedly seated. There is a cloth separation that blocks the others from our view, and so all she appears to be looking at is a black curtain. The look, as well as the nervous laughter, makes me suspicious. What was she hiding?

"When is the wedding?" I ask, more calmly than I intended, and her face lights up, glowing with pleasure at the change of subject. Her eyes are vivacious with excitement, and she gives a little dance.

"In November, if everything goes according to plan. Vampire politics are a hassle, that's for sure. Things change from day to day, so it's all we can do to keep up," she says, and at the topic of politics she gives that nervous laugh again, and I frown.

"What's going on, Rebecca? Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level, and she gives me a long look that is torn between looking excited and completely overwhelmed.

"I…I'm sorry, Nick. I don't mean to sound so frazzled…it's just…it's just been a crazy couple of days. Bill only proposed a week or so ago, and…" she trails off, and gave me a small smile. "You're new to the vampire scene, and so I want to ease you in somewhat. It's all very complicated. Bill is angry with me for bringing you out here," she blurts out, and my brows shoot upward. The vampire had seemed the epitome of serenity when I was introduced to him, so it was surprising to hear that the vampire was anything but.

"Why?" I ask, and Rebecca sighs.

"Well, because Bill is the vampire king of Louisiana, and me openly proclaiming the presence of a human – and ultimately vulnerable – sister will only give others more chances for blackmail. And since you're the sister of the future Queen, they have to give you information that is usually reserved for vampires only. This is, to them, a huge risk. But don't worry, the security in Bill's mansion is insanely advanced, and I wouldn't bring you if I wasn't 100% sure that you'd be safe."

This information should have terrified me, but instead of the numbing fear I was expecting, I feel only a mild jolt and a burning curiosity. Vampires have monarchies? I know that they're organized, but not to what extent, and I'm suddenly eager to meet with Rebecca's fiancée, if only to discuss how the vampire world works outside of human knowledge. For my sister's sake, I kept my face calm and free of any anxiety, not wanting to give any reason for her to panic.

"Would you really become the Queen?" I ask, unable to keep the disbelief from my tone. She smiles in bashful affirmation, and twiddles with her fingers as she answers.

"Yeah. I'd be like Bill's Vice-President, his second-in-command. If he needed to go away for a time, I would take over, and run the kingdom in his place. Bill told me that it was my choice, and that Louisiana didn't require a Queen to function. But I'm willing to do it, and so all the way up until the wedding I'll be learning up on vampire politics and meeting with lots of other vampires around the state, to get them used to the idea."

"Where do I fit into this?" I inquire, unable to see where a younger sister is required for all of this.

Rebecca leans her head against the seat while keeping eye contact, her hand coming up to tug on a few straight strands of her hair. Her eyes – Dad's eyes – stare into my own, searching them silently and with surprising steadiness. .

"Well, as you already know, you'll be the maid of honor," she began, and I nodded; it had been in the email. "And since I am designing the entire wedding party attire, I have to have you here for fittings and such. Since I'm working on so many people, it's just better to have you around for the duration of the planning. I have this weekend off to hang out with you, so that's good. After that, I'll be trying to adjust to vampire schedule, doing my work at night and sleeping most of the day. You will be free to do whatever you want, then. Bill's neighbor is actually looking for a babysitter, if you're interested. You'd get paid."

I shrug, uncommitted to the idea. I don't hate children, but I'm not exactly crazy about them, either. It would be nice to have some spending money, though.

I spend the rest of the drive listening to Rebecca rave about the town Bill resides in, a place called "Bon Temps". From her descriptions, it seems to be a less universally religious version of San Luis Obispo, and I have to restrain myself from commenting on that. I don't want to darken our reuniting, and so I just nod and listen without interrupting, letting her talk to her heart's content.

In truth, I had nothing to say. I was in awe of this creature that was my sister, and a tiny bit jealous as well. I know, it's stupid, but I gave myself a few seconds in which to feel impossibly angry at the way our lives had turned out. Why hadn't I been blessed with the ability to speak out against my parents? Why was I cursed with cowardice, with quiet obedience and unconditional compassion? I should hate my parents for what they did to my sister, I should hate them for how sheltered they kept me, how unprepared their teaching left me for the real world. But they were still my parents. I still wanted them to smile at me, I still needed their love.

Rebecca was all that I had hoped to be when I was younger, and now, looking at her, I know that I fell several marks short.

Then, with a shake, I force the bitterness away. God is the only one with the power to change my destiny, and so all I can do is hope that He takes pity on me and decides to give me a boost. For now, I'm just going to focus on being happy for my sister. It's all I can do, really.

We've long since left the city behind us, and as I glance out the window I see that we are entering a small collection of shops. Most of the buildings are so old that I was surprised that they were still standing, and they seem almost deflated next to much newer structures that are practically glowing in comparison. The lamps emit a warm yellow glow, and I see from a sign that this town is Bon Temps. It is much less like San Luis Obispo than I imagined; for one, it's a lot smaller, and the buildings have a strength about them. There is no doubt that vampires populate this town. The windows of the car are down, and I smell the sharp scent of the eucalyptus trees. Their branches sway in the breeze, a slow and tired dance, as if greeting an old friend.

Rebecca is finally quiet, letting me soak in the sights, and I am grateful for the silence. Now that my sister has stopped talking, I can hear the muted sounds of Rebecca's fiancée talking to the bodyguards, and the soft whoosh of the air as it passes. The car turn onto a well-paved road that begins a lazy winding pattern through the trees, and through the darkness appears a large mansion that has several large pillars holding up the roof. A large fence surrounds the property, and I hear Bill's voice once more, and at some unseen signal the gates swing inward to admit the black vehicle. Rebecca is gathering her purse, and I hug my backpack to my chest, staring up at the largest house I had ever seen in my life. My sister lived here? I half-expected a bunch of smartly dressed servants to pop out of nowhere and start singing a catchy tune, and was greatly relieved when no such thing occurred. Instead, there is a blur as Bill appears beside the car, opening the door like a true gentleman. Rebecca giggles – I had no idea that vampires could move that fast, and so at Bill's sudden movement I gave an involuntary yip. I send her a scowl, and she brushes it off with a cheeky smile. My anger crumples, and she slides out of the car, accepting Bill's proffered hand. Bill sends me a cool smile, and I smile in return. There is no hand offered for me, and so I quickly clamber out of the car, blinking in the bright lights surrounding the mansion.

Rebecca releases Bill's hand, and moves to stand by me, offering me her support. I glance at her, and she gives me a reassuring pat on the arm. My eyes are drawn to a dark gray object beyond the fence, and a wry smirk crosses my lips as I recognize it to be a grave-marker. Lines upon lines of them are organized across the uneven grass, all etched with dark letters that are illegible to me.

Rebecca is looking at me rather curiously, and so I turn away from the graveyard and follow Bill toward the house. The bodyguards who drove with us bring up the rear, and their eyes scan the area carefully, not letting their concentration waver even for a second. The night is soft and warm, a typical summer evening, and the lights of the house are blaring and harsh against the dusky blackness of the surrounding forest.

I make my way up the steps, and Bill opened the large front doors for me, bowing slightly as I pass. I meet his eye, and I can't sense the anger Rebecca mentioned at all. This disconcerts me, as it means that Bill is an extremely adept liar. The pleasantly blank look in the vampire's eyes reminded me of the previous preacher at my church—

No, I'm not going to think about that man. Not now, not ever.

I thank Bill, and step into the mansion, staring around in awe of how spacious and clean everything was. The entry hall was large, the floor made up of warm brown wood streaked with cream, and the walls were a pristine white. There was a winding staircase that led to the upper floor, and descending down it at this very moment is a woman that reminds me of sunlight.

It was the first comparison I could make, and I stand, flabbergasted. Her blonde hair is as long as mine, falling perfectly straight, shining in the flattering interior light. The woman moves to stand before Bill, and her skin is richly tanned, fairly glowing with health. Blue eyes flicker to mine, and they are full of fire. This woman looks so completely out of place beside the vampire that I almost laugh, and only just manage to contain my nervous laughter.

The woman is focused on me, though how I know that is beyond me. Physically, she is greeting Bill and Rebecca with equal warmth, moving forward to give my sister a friendly hug. But somehow, I know that her attention is on me. I stare at her, unable to look away. Why am I in such a state over this woman? I just can't seem to look away, it's as if all the light is centered on her.

"She's not a blabber, Bill. Cleaner than most," the woman says in a thick Southern accent – the same as Bill's – tone light and casual. Bill looks to me, and speaks clearly for my benefit.

"Nicole, this is Sookie Stackhouse."

Sookie smiles, and reaches forward to envelop me in a hug. She smells like the air before a storm. Intoxicating, with an underlying tinge of danger. I gasp as a flare of energy surges through my form, emanating from the blonde, and I yelp as a small spark shocks my fingertips. Sookie pulls away, and I see that the ethereal beauty has left her form, leaving her looking almost normal. I am gasping for breath, and I feel Rebecca's arms around me.

"Shh, don't worry, it'll wear off in a minute."

"What was that?" I practically yell, and Sookie gives Bill a significant glance. Bill nods, and Sookie smiles widely. Her blonde hair flips over her shoulder, and her hands clasp together.

"I'm one-eighth fairy, hon. Fairies are among the supernatural; vampires, weres, witches and so on. They attract those of all races, especially vampires. Normally, such small amount of fae wouldn't mean much. But since I'm of a royal fae line, the glow is a lot stronger. My powers awoke five years ago, which intensifies the glow even more. What I just did was block your senses from my glow, making you immune to the fae attraction. How do you feel?"

"Extremely confused," I growl, glaring at Rebecca. "You couldn't have told me some of this in that email, huh?"

Rebecca grimaces, shoulders slumping in shame. Bill rises to her defense, his dark eyes glittering in the light overhead.

"No, she couldn't. You see, Sookie is a telepath, and she scans every single human who is brought into the vampire circle. Rebecca couldn't tell you about the other supernatural beings, because they are still hidden from public knowledge. Allowing for such information to be given via internet is forbidden. In fact, the only reason Sookie told you is because she found your mind innocent of any evil intentions. If you had been suspicious in any way, you would not be allowed to stay here."

Well, I'm officially speechless. I stare at each person in turn; waiting for someone to start laughing and tell me it was all a joke. No one does. I turn to Rebecca, who is watching me with nervous eyes.

"She just read my mind?"

"Yes, I did," Sookie states curtly, apparently not liking being ignored. I glance at her, and Rebecca steps away from Bill once more. Her gray-green eyes are soft and gentle, and I frown at her.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she murmurs, hugging me. "I wanted to tell you. Trust me, I was just as confused as you were when I first found out. It gets better, especially when you start getting to know them. Sookie's husband, for example, he's a werewolf. You'll meet him tomorrow, if we're lucky."

Sookie nods, and for the first time I notice that she's wearing loose jeans and a flowing white shirt. "Alcide's got some work tomorrow, but I'll be sure he's home for lunch. How bout you girls visit us then? How does one-thirty sound to y'all?"

Rebecca assures Sookie that one-thirty is fine, and with that Sookie says goodbye, and walks out of the mansion. I heard her laughing with a few of the bodyguards, and then there is silence. Rebecca is speaking quietly to Bill, who murmurs something quietly in return. The look in his eyes is tender, adoring, and Rebecca hums in agreement before leaning in to kiss him. I glance away, cringing at the way his hand slides up her back. Oh dear…

Then, in a flash of that strange vampire speed, he is gone, and Rebecca turns to me. Her eyes are bright with happiness, and her teeth gleam as she grins boldly at me. I simply raise an eyebrow, and she laughs, unashamed. I blush for her, and she rolls her eyes at my embarrassment.

"Alright, a tour!" she crows, and marches off, leaving me to trail behind in a state of disbelief that I am related to such a person.