Trouble seems to follow me like the plague. I blame it on the fact that I've been raised, for the most part, within a rather barbaric society. At least it was claimed to be barbaric according to the societal standards set by humans and human kind alike. There are those of us that will argue and argue until we're blue in the face or, more likely, until time ends that our society is the correct one. I'm not one of those—but we definitely have them. Perhaps two of them for every one person like me. And a mindset like mine is few and far between. But our society is rather small. There are, naturally, more of our kind scattered about. But we keep to ourselves unless there are dire circumstances that require us to stand shoulder to shoulder. Elitist snobs are what I like to call us. That's all that we really are.

And by us I mean werewolves. Granted, I'm not a full-blooded werewolf. But only two other people in my pack know about that. And those two people are my family whether we share blood or not. We don't, but it's never made a difference to us. I even took on their surname after Jackson Herveaux took me in. Actually, he renamed me as well. I don't remember my original name; neither does he. He was told that it would be better if I were raised as if I were one of his own. If it had been any other were, I probably would have had a much different life. But Jackson has a heart of solid gold. A trait which he instilled in Alcide, his son and my brother.

But it is the fact that I am not full-blooded that has brought us here before an acquaintance of my father's. A vampire sheriff acquaintance, to be more precise. Normally such meetings were made more public so that the rest of our pack was aware of the circumstances. But because they involved a secret we kept hidden from them for the entirety of my twenty-one-years-of-life, Dad thought it was wise that nobody outside of our family knew. And that is why the three of us stood in Sheriff Eric Northman's office. This vampire was studying my father with ice cold blue eyes over his clasped hands.

"You want me to watch your daughter and make sure that no harm comes to her," Eric said slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"I think it would be wise if we do not disclose that information," my father replied smoothly. Eric frowned.

"I reject your imposed favor."

"You owe me, Northman," Jackson growled. I placed my hand on his arm comfortingly, shaking my head lightly. Alcide's arm went around my waist protectively.

"I do," Eric acknowledged, "but I believe that you're asking more than you're entitled to."

"I am," my father admitted. "But secrecy is of the utmost importance. It's why I'm asking you for help."

"Let me understand this," Eric mused. "You wish for me to take in your daughter and lodge her for an interminable amount of time. And on top of that, you would also like my guarantee of her protection so long as she is in my watch. Correct?"

"Yes."

"But I am not allowed to know why I am putting myself and my men at risk?"

"Dad," I broke their squabble. "I think we can tell him." Dad turned on me faster than I had ever seen, panic lining his face. I smiled gently. "He won't let me stay there unless he's given some information." My father stared me down, knowing full well that I had just used my fae powers to read his mind. "My ex-boyfriend—perhaps you've heard of him. His death was rather prominent for the last few weeks. His name was Marc."

"As in the vampire?" The shock was visible on the ancient vampire's face. I nodded. "I did not realize that you were that much of a friend to vampires."

"More so than I believe my brother and father enjoy," I chuckled lightly. "Recently, he was tortured until the true death." That thought still brought a wince of pain to my face. But he had turned out to be a traitorous little prick, I reminded myself sternly. "He was captured by another vampire's minions to discover why, exactly, he was so protective of me. That information was divulged." I frowned. "Which means that vampires are now after my head." Or blood.

"What makes you so special? You aren't even full-blooded—"

"Watch your mouth, vampire," Alcide threatened, a low growl in the back of his throat. I patted his arm in thanks.

"I am half fae."

"You're what?"

"I am half fae," I repeated, a smirk forming on my face.

"I think I'll need a taste test to prove this," he smirked. Alcide and Dad went to retaliate but, to their surprise, I simply laughed. He was only about a quarter serious about that.

"He's just being a prick," I chuckled. "He's not serious."

"Telepath?"

"Among other things."

"If I accept this," he turned his eyes to my father, "you are aware that this will put you into my debt again?"

"I am," my father grunted. I swear, even the most well-mannered were is only a rung above caveman on the social skills ladder.

To me: "What is your name?"

"Aline Herveaux."

"Welcome to Area Five, Miss Herveaux," he smirked at me. He was being polite and politically correct for the sake of my father. I returned his smirk, hiding my laugh.

"Thank you, Sheriff Northman."

It was a few hours later, after everything had been settled between my father and Eric, that we were driving to Eric's home. Well, one of them. He claimed that this was his largest home as well as his best staffed. This included a security force. I wasn't very surprised to hear that—but I was surprised to find that most of his staff were human.

"Humans?" Alcide mused aloud as we pulled into the driveway. He was wondering if they were glamored. They weren't.

"No," I shook my head. "They're paid handsomely and they like Eric."

"First name basis now?"

I shot him a look. "That's why I don't date werewolves. Too much damn pride. Vampires are just cocky—and snarky. That I can handle. I can't handle another ego as large as mine." I shook my head. "Anyway, I only did that for dad. I'm not going to walk around this man's house calling him Sheriff Northman until this whole dilemma is over."

Before he could reply to me, I was out of his truck and getting my bags from the back hub. My father, having ridden over with Eric, was currently looking over the staff. Most of the security guards were shifters of some kind. I couldn't tell what but their brain patterns told me that they were, indeed, two-natured like myself and Alcide.

As we carried over my bags, Jackson walked over to us. "Alcide and I will be back during the full moon to take you out for a run." God, I felt like a house pet at that. Which he must have noticed from my scowl. "I don't mean it like that, Ali. But we can't have you running around in wolf form around here."

"We're going to pass you off as human," Eric explained with a look at my father. "That means you won't be able to shift. Aside from the stench of them on you," he made a motion to my brother and father, "I can't smell anything on you. You smell human."

"I mask my scent, usually," I admitted. "It makes it easier." And the rest of the pack was too dumb to honestly notice that I didn't have my own scent. The only time they took notice was when I was in my wolf form.

"Understandably. But I'll be passing you off as my human companion."

"Which does not bind you to him in any way," Dad shot a dark look at Eric, who simply shrugged with a smirk. I intrigued him and he thought I was attractive but he had a preconceived notion that werewolves were all the same to a point. He was somewhat right about that. But I didn't have an interest in him. He seemed like the type I would befriend into a brother-type. That, however, was information I would keep to myself. It would be fun to keep that little piece of information out at my disposal to piss off my brother or my father if need be.

The two must have noticed that mischievous look cross my face because they traded glances silently. They were worried before they had even pulled out of the driveway.

"Goodbye, princess, I'll see you in a few weeks," Dad finally said as he planted a kiss on my temple and walked toward Alcide's truck. It was difficult for him to leave me in a man's house—a vampire, no less. Especially Eric Northman.

"Little Optimist," Alcide addressed me. "I want you to remember that not all vampires are as kind as you want them to be. They aren't all Marc." Or maybe they are, he added silently in thought. That twinge pulled at my chest. He must have noticed because he locked his mind down completely, an apologetic look in his eyes. "I don't want you to end up as some trophy in some vampire's collection of oddities." I raised my eyebrows at the word 'oddities.'

"Don't worry," Eric interjected. "I do not plan on telling the Queen that she is here. I will also keep her away from Compton. He can't seem to keep anything to himself as of late." The vampire scowled. Obviously the two did not get along. Alcide nodded, the answer satisfying him.

"I'm going to be in Bon Temps for a construction project this week," he informed me seriously. "I'll be dropping in to check on you. Hopefully you can manage to stay out of trouble until then." I chuckled, a grin spreading across my face. He shook his head, putting a kiss on my forehead and then sauntering over to his truck. I watched them leave from the porch, waving until they were out of sight. Though I had been without them before, I couldn't help but feel lonely at their leave. I was going to miss them something awful.

"Come, I'll show you to your room," Eric interrupted. His servants snatched up my bags before I could and walked ahead of us. I followed them upstairs, admiring the décor. You most certainly could tell that Eric was a former Viking. Everything was so ornate. Mentally I noted things I wanted to examine more as we progressed down the hallway. The servants doubled back and passed us just as we got to the doors. They were firmly drawn shut, as seemed to be the custom in Eric's abode. "If you do not like the décor, we can always redecorate it to your liking. Jackson wants to make sure that you're as comfortable as you can be."

I nodded, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He opened the doors, revealing a room that contained black, modern-style furniture. It was an odd, but nice, contrast to the early (and I mean pre-dating Viking era early) European feel to the room. I studied it eagerly.

When I did not protest the decorations, he continued: "Your father informed me that you enjoy being outside. So I have given you the second master bedroom. There is a balcony," he motioned beside the bed, "a private bath," a gesture to the other side of the room, "and a walk-in closet," a gesture to the wall we were closest to. When I was still silent, he wondered if he had misread my admiration. "If you don't like the decorations, you can stay in another room until they are altered to your tastes—"

"I'll do no such thing," I scolded. "I've always dreamed of living somewhere like this." I examined a piece of pottery. "This is very early European," I confirmed. He nodded. "Probably somewhere around the first century—the coast of Gaul before it was overtaken by Romans." He stared, slack-jawed, in surprise at me. "Sorry, did I get it wrong?"

"No," he shook his head, snapping himself back into composure. He tried to articulate a sentence for a few seconds before settling on: "how?"

"I have a degree in interior design," I smiled lightly. "And art history. A minor in business management." He frowned in confusion. "Dad wanted me to have some part in Herveaux Constructing," I shrugged. "I'm not much for construction, but I've always had a little bit of, uh, more distinguished tastes than the rest of the werewolves. That and I honestly enjoy learning." I was on the outs with a lot of weres for that in our childhood. Though the pain of those memories threatened to surface, I pushed them away. "These are beautiful pieces," I complimented.

"I'm glad you like them. A friend of mine decorated this room. It is usually his when he visits. But I'm sure that he wouldn't mind sharing it with you." I gave him a strange look, wondering if he intended that double meaning. "I don't mean like that. I would," he gave me a crooked grin, "but he wouldn't. He's too much of a gentleman."

Before I could make a remark, he turned and left me to my lonesome. I stared after him for a few seconds before looking outside. There were a few hours of night left. As my father probably knew that I would, I decided to spend those remaining hours on the balcony, enjoying the quiet calm of Louisiana. It was much different than Jackson, I noted. But I still missed home. This would take some getting used to.