The plane trembled as we came to a stop on the airstrip. I glanced out the window. Typical small town, covered in fog. Tedious. There was nothing I hated more than tediousness. I frowned, jostling other people out of my way. Reaching for my carry-on bag, I pushed through the crowd of high end business men and other first-class passengers. Even in the best cabin they offered, plane rides sucked. Ms. Osbourse, reigning Supreme, had forbbiden me from simply transmuting here.

"I don't care if you are the Supreme-in-training. They'll detect you the moment you step on their soil, and where would we be if that happened?"

She had a point, but that didn't mean I got to like it.

I guess I should explain.

Hi, I'm Moira Rathborne. Witch of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. New Orleans born and raised. 17 years old. Orphan by design, humourous by choice. I'm a very nice person until you piss me off. Which is pretty much most of the humans/other I've ever encountered. I'm pretty much a royal bitch. Sorry 'bout that.

In case you were wondering, the Supreme is the witch of all witches. Queen Bee. Pretty much the Queen, actually. There is one Supreme born to each generation, and she embodies the Seven Wonders of Witchcraft, blah blah blah. That crap has been shoved down my throat since Ms. Osbourne recognized me as her successor.

I'm totally cool with that, by the way.

Doesn't bother me at all.

Not one bit.

.

Of course it does, numbskull. Who am I fooling? The last words my sister ever said to me were, "Follow the rules until they get in your way." I live by that, and currently, all the rules a Supreme has to follow are kinda-sorta-really getting in my way.

But unless I go ahead and kill myself, the Supremacy is permanently mine. Like a bad tattoo. In an inconvenient place. I don't know where this simile is going. I'll stop now.

*ahem*

Basically, I do what Ms. Osbourne tells me to. She is the most powerful being on this Earth. You'd have to be on a different level of crazy to disobey her. She hates working up a sweat, mind controlling people, killing those who don't follow her orders. Especially on a bad day.

So here I am. Bumblefuck nowhere- sorry. Forks, Washington. Apparently, someone let the vampires do whatever the hell they wanted, and now we have a crisis on our hands. A batshit insane vampire amassing an army of newborns over her boyfriend's death. A "special snowflake" chick with weird gifts who caused said boyfriend's death. Animals running around like they own the place. The weakest of us on a bad day is better then the best of them on a good day.

The vampires have long forgotten their true mistresses, and I'm here to remind them of their place.

More than a few centuries ago, a witch tried to create "the perfect lover", suitable for someone like her. Life everlasting, incredible beauty, skin like steel. Something that could handle a woman who could set you on fire with a glance.

Obviously that little project went very wrong. The things she created spread like wildfire, and became the vampires of today. The Council is supposed to have a Watcher keeping tabs on 'em at all times, but I guess they went missing.

Ms. Osbourne put me on the first flight out to Forks from New Orleans as soon as she got the message.

I wheeled my luggage out of the meager airport, hailing a taxi. Shit, even the cabs here are tiny. I directed him to the address of my host. A Charlie Swan. The even tinier-in-real-life town passed by quickly. Even the sidewalks here were boring.

My magic flared up within me, trying to get my attention. I pushed it down. Now was not the time to go around burning houses to the ground and pillaging the carcasses of my enemies. Nor was it the opputune moment to torture someone out of sheer boredom, though I was fast approaching that point.

I directed my attention to my dress. Black, as always. Black like my soul, I thought. I smoothed out some non-existent wrinkles in the fabric, tapping my foot impatiently. Of all the things a witch could do, clearing traffic was not one of them.

"We're here, Miss." I stood up silently, handing him a $20 and a $10, before collecting my suitcases and walking away without a word. Black haze curled around my vision, asking polietly to invade my head. I grimaced and pushed it away. The darkness curling in my soul like to come out at such horrid times. I clucked my tounge at it. It would be a very bad reflection on Ms. Osbourne if I went sadistic witch on Forks. And blood would be very hard to get out of the nice "Welcome" mat on the Swan household.

My inner dilemna settled, I knocked on the door.

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Hinting as some interesting stuff going on with Moira, yeah? Cliffies are turning out to be pretty fun :) Also my hand is cramping horribly so I figured I'd stop here till I got some more reviews. Hopefully you guys like these new personality facets. After all, I wasn't gonna make her completely angsty and serious like Bella. That's just not good for business.

PLEASE REVIEW.

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A BUNNY IS SAVED EVERYTIME YOU REVIEW. THANK YOU.