Jessica closes and latches the door. We stare at each other. She heaves a sigh – entirely for drama's sake, vampires don't need to breathe in the first place. "Wanna watch TV?" She walks past me without waiting for an answer.

I follow her to the unmade bed as she digs the remote out from under the pillows. Her room is the size of mine, which is strange, because Eric is far richer than Bill Compton is. But Eric is the reason Bill and Sookie are in Dallas in the first place. He may have paid for their rooms. But did he know they were bringing Jessica?

"Why are you here?" I say.

"I could ask you the same question." She holds the remote out to me, her arm unfolding like a broken stick.

"Not really." I snatch the remote. "I'm useful."

Her head falls to the side as if the muscles in her neck all disappeared. Her tongue pushes at her lips, like she's holding in words she might regret.

I roll my eyes and walk around the bed. There's a grey armchair in the corner, identical to the one in my room. I fall into it. "I just mean," I say, turning on the television, "I'm psychic. Eric brought me here because he thought that might help him. Why did Bill bring you?"

She shoves the bedspread back over the pillows and flops onto the bed as I search the channels. Two women screaming at each other, black-and-white pictures of a battlefield, a group of teenagers laughing at a table outdoors. "I don't know," she says, her tone losing just a little of its edge. She takes a cell phone from the bedside table, looks at the screen, and then slaps it back down. Another sigh, just as pointless, just as dramatic. But a wave of her emotions nudges against me – real discomfort. Not quite anxiety, but . . . definitely nerves. And uncertainty – a lot of uncertainty. And some fear. The last time I was with her, when being a vampire was still new to her, it was hard to read anything past her hunger and her excitement, her desperation to kill and, ironically, to live. Eric told me her human parents were religious, strict, and cruel, and that sometimes when people are controlled too much for too long they have trouble containing themselves when they finally get to make decisions on their own. Jessica isn't so gleeful, so wild now. Still some, but . . . the discomfort is stronger. "I think Sookie told Bill they should bring me along. Don't know why – ever since we got here, he's either been with her over there –" She points to the door connecting her room to Bill's – "or workin' with Eric. I don't know on what . . ." I feel her eyes slide to me, and she lets the silence grow, in case I want to fill it with answers. I just keep changing channels.

"Stop," she says after a minute. "I love this show. I used to watch it with my mama and my sister."

My finger pauses. On the television screen, a chubby woman spins around in a wedding dress in front of a group of other women, most of whom put their hands over their mouths or squeal, a couple of whom look blatantly, rudely unimpressed. "Is she getting married?"

"She's tryin' to find the right dress."

"For her wedding."

"Right. Don't know what she's thinkin' with that one. Doesn't do her figure any favors." She checks her phone again. Puts it down too hard again.

"Expecting a call?"

"No – What? Why would you think that?"

"You've looked at your phone twice in the past minute."

"I just . . . don't wanna miss it. If someone does call." She wraps her arms around her knees and looks at her toes.

I pull my legs underneath me. "A human?"

"Why would you assume he's a human?"

He. "You haven't been a vampire for long. I doubt you've made many vampire friends. Is he your boyfriend?"

"No. I mean – I'm not –" But then she stops, and sort of . . . I'm not sure. It's as if she shrinks. Something cool runs from her and through me. "He's not my boyfriend," she whispers. "I just thought . . . he might like me."

I set the television remote on the armchair. "Why don't you glamor him?"

"To do what?"

"Whatever you want."

"Is that what Eric does to you?"

My hands curl into fists. "Eric can't glamor me. He wouldn't if he could. That's not how it is between us."

"But that's how it should be between me and this guy?"

I don't know what to say to that. Which isn't a feeling I like. I know how most vampires treat most humans, and I know how Eric and Pam – for the most part – treat me. And it isn't the same. So sometimes I forget that I am, technically, human. And I'm not sure exactly why it's okay to treat me one way when other humans are treated differently, but somehow, it is. Or it always has been. I suppose.

"There's someone at the door," I mutter, and then there's a knock. Jessica looks from the door to me, her eyes round. I allow myself a little satisfaction at that.

"Who is it?" she calls.

The answer is muffled. "It's, uh – it's Hoyt!"

Jessica's face lights up. Happiness floods her, which means it reaches me, too. Not as strongly, but it's nice. "Hoyt?" she repeats, breathless, before springing from the bed and darting to the door.

"Come on, open up . . ." The voice pleads. "I know you must be mad at me –"

Jessica tries to open the door, only to have it catch on the latch. She doesn't realize the problem, just keeps trying to yank the knob harder.

" – I'm so sorry, my mama –"

Jessica squeals in frustration. "The latch, Jessica," I offer.

" – cancelled my cell service, I had no way to get in touch with you, I –"

Jessica bangs both hands against the door.

"The latch!" I repeat, and she goes still for a second, absorbing, before grabbing at the latch, throwing it back, and opening the door.

" – got here as fast as I could."

I rise from the chair and walk forward, peering out the door. The man in the hallway is tall, plain-faced, and wearing a blue-striped shirt that's tucked in over a belt. He holds a bouquet of flowers. "I'm so sorry, Jessica," he says.

"I can't believe it," she whispers after a moment. "You came all this way?"

From where? Bon Temps?

"You're not mad at me," Hoyt concludes, softly, relief on his face. And . . . admiration. Maybe love. I pick at a spot on the wall.

"No," Jessica says, her voice trembling. "I'm so happy I could cry, but I don't want to, cause it's really gross when I do –"

Tentatively, Hoyt hands her the flowers and she backs up a little, allowing him in. He still hasn't noticed me. "I'm sorry about the flowers, too," he tells her. "I got 'em in Bon Temps 'fore I left, and it was just really hot in my car –"

"Oh, they're beautiful," Jessica reassures him, cradling the bouquet.

At that, Hoyt reaches for her. He brushes her hair back, cups her face, and starts to kiss her. A long kiss. She wraps her arms around him, the flowers dangling from her hand, and his hands start to travel down her body, and that's when he happens to open his eyes and finally sees me.

"Whoa –" He pushes Jessica a foot away, keeping his hands on her hips. She looks surprised, distraught, and then dismayed when she follows his eyes and realizes the problem. "Hey, there," Hoyt says, clearing his throat. "Hey, there, sweetie. What's your name?"

"Annika," I say as Jessica moves past Hoyt to close the door.

"Annika." He waves, which is a silly thing to do when you're in the same room as someone. "Hi. I'm – I'm Hoyt. I'm . . . a friend, of Jessica's."

"Yes. I'd come to that conclusion."

"Uh . . ."

"Annika," Jessica says, grinning in a strained way, "is here with, um, one of the . . . vampires? That Bill works with? He asked me to . . . watch her. For the night."

"The – the whole night?"

Jessica closes her eyes. "Yeah. Oh, God, yeah."

"I'm very sorry to inconvenience you so," I say to her.

"Oh, honey, don't – don't worry about it," Hoyt tells me as Jessica glares, "Jessica and me, we were – we were just gonna sit around and talk anyway, and . . . the more the merrier, right?"

"No," Jessica says, drawing both Hoyt's and my attention. She has a determined look on her face. "No, you came all this way – Annika." She's beside me in a second, bending to my level. Eric is the only person who can do that without annoying me. "Hoyt came all this way. Just to see me." The smile that comes across her face makes her look almost human again. Almost like the normal teens I saw on her television just a few minutes ago. "We would . . . I would really, really appreciate it if we could have some time alone."

"Jessica, I didn't ask Eric to leave me here. He wanted me to stay with you. I can't go anywhere else. He would kill me."

"You don't have to leave the room! You could just . . . maybe . . . Hang out in the bathroom?"

I blink at her. "You're joking."

"Oh, please." Jessica grabs my hand before I can react. "Please, please, I would owe you so much. Please."

"I'm not going to sit in the bathroom all night staring at the wall while you two talk." I spit out the last word, to make sure she understands that I don't believe for a second that that's all Hoyt came here to do. I was raised by vampires. I don't remember a time when I didn't know what sex was.

"Well – hey!" Hoyt pulls something out of his pocket, white wires spilling from it in a tangle. "You can use my iPod. It's got, uh, over four hundred songs on it. Probably somethin' you like on there. Almost definitely." He holds it out over Jessica's shoulder. I ignore him, but Jessica takes the iPod and offers it to me.

"Annika." She's still gripping my hand. Her blue eyes are intense. "Annika, please."

I sigh.

Jessica is having a hard time of things, Eric told me at Fangtasia, shortly after breaking up a fight between Jessica and me in which I called her white trash and she threw a shotglass at my head. The transition from human to vampire is not an easy one. I know she is difficult, but be kind to her.

"Fine," I say. "But you should know that Eric's not going to be happy about this."

"Oh, no – no, you can't tell Eric." She drops my hand just to grip my shoulder. "No, no. Eric might tell Bill, and Bill can not know." She lowers her voice and glances at the door to Bill's room, even though Eric told me most of the walls in this hotel are soundproof. Vampires can be loud.

"No. I can't lie to Eric."

"It won't be a lie! You just – wouldn't mention to him that Hoyt was here."

"Eric would consider that a lie. I do not lie to Eric." He taught me that lesson when I was six years old. I have no desire to make him think I've forgotten it.

"Annika – please." Jessica leans closer to me. Her eyes are shining. She whispers, low enough that Hoyt can't hear, "I really, really like him. I might . . . you know." She shrugs, dropping her gaze. "More-than-like him. So, just . . . please."

I take three strides across the room, cross my arms, and stare out the window at the city and its thousands of tiny lights.

Don't be an idiot. Don't be a crazy, human idiot.

If I hide something from Eric and he finds out . . . Well, I'm honestly not sure what he would do to me. I know that he has struck me on only one occasion in my life, and that was for lying to him. And he told me if I ever did it again . . .

But that first time was a long time ago. And this is such a small thing – like Jessica said, not a real lie. Just . . . hiding something. Something that has nothing to do with Eric, that will never affect him at all.

Hoyt showed up with flowers. He drove from Bon Temps.

That was . . . really romantic.

I'm an idiot. A crazy, human idiot, and Eric's probably going to hang my skin on the wall right above that stupid sword . . .

I'm about to tell Jessica I'll do it when Hoyt says, "Here, hey – I'll give you twenty dollars."

And because I was raised to be enterprising, I face him and say, "Make it thirty."