I'd found the late Queen's remains.

A distant ringing filled my ears, rising, increasing in volume till my ears felt full with it.

Hang on a second. My thoughts juddered to a stop. It couldn't be her remains. When a vampire met the true death, they either turned into sludge or ash or sludgy ash. The figure before me was very much corporeal.

I tried to inhale. I couldn't catch my breath. Why couldn't I catch my breath?

Did it mean she was alive? No. That couldn't be right either. I would have sensed her mental signature, her 'void'. Tightness squeezed across my chest, a broad, vice-like tightness. I pawed a wet hand at my chest. I felt the galloping thud of my heartbeat through my sternum.

Desiccated. The word sprang to my mind, slicing through the static that filled my ears. Desiccation was what happened to vampires who abstained from blood, voluntarily or not. The Queen hadn't met the final death. Instead, she had been reduced to a shriveled, comatose version of herself. She'd starved. But hadn't Felipe, or more precisely Victor, killed her? Why hadn't he killed her?

Sophie Anne wasn't dead. And I had found her. Oh my God. What did that mean? I spun on the spot, looking wildly around me. As if I could find any answers here. Good god… what would this mean for Louisiana? For Thalia? For Eric? For me?

The enormity of my discovery fell onto me like a pile of screaming bricks, each thought and implication, loud and destructive, battering me, filling my mind and shrinking the tunnel to such a point that I'd either suffocate or explode. I stumbled and splashed my way out into the daylight, out onto the grassy embankment, then fell to my knees. I promptly threw up.

I heaved until nothing was left. Panting, I tried to catch my breath, intermittently spitting out the sad acrid remains of my breakfast. I felt as though I was watching myself from afar. At a hazy distance. I got to my feet, knees knocking unsteadily under me.

Not ten minutes earlier, I had been ruminating on how the simple act of Hadley telling her vampire lover about her "funny cousin" had earth shattering consequences for me. My life had diverged at the moment Hadley had blabbed onto a wildly different path, without me even knowing it. Sliding Doors style. If she's had the sense to keep her mouth shut, what kind of life would I be living?

Hell, 'diverged' was the wrong word. Hadley telling the Queen about me had sparked nothing short of chaos. It irrevocably marked the course of my existence. My life had been split into two distinct eras, there was Sookie Before Vampires and Sookie After Vampires. My life was clearly, definitively, devastatingly demarcated by her thoughtless act.

I couldn't make that same mistake.

I turned back to look at the tunnel. I lifted my shirt and wiped my mouth against a dry patch of cotton. The only difference now was that I had the benefit of wisdom. Sookie After Vampires possessed a hell of a lot more sense than poor Hadley ever had. I at least would understand the enormity of my decisions moving forward. Louisiana's former Queen was suspended in a state somewhere between life and death. And I was the only one who knew.

The jumbled chaos inside my mind quietened. In its place, a plan formed. I had to first remove the Queen to somewhere safe without anyone seeing… and then decide whether she lived or died.

I laughed again, my voice thin and reedy. See? Easy. It's easy, of course! Better make the right decision, Sookie. The life of some of your dearest loved ones and yourself could hang in the balance. Make sure you make the right choice. Two paths, diverging. Does the Queen live or die? Choose wisely, because whatever you pick could determine your existence too.

I walked up to the car, smoothing my ponytail, affecting an air of indifference. I couldn't afford to stand out. I stretched my telepathy wide, listening to any neighborhood chatter that might indicate someone was alerted to my presence or simply taking note of what I was doing.

I removed the thick blanket I kept draped on the back seat of my car. I opened the trunk and rifled through a plastic tub I kept there stocked with random items. Trash bags, bug spray, wet wipes, duct tape, a first aid kit. I tucked the roll of trash bags under the blanket. Experience had taught me never to be unprepared. It was as if I'd always known I'd have to remove a body one day. It certainly wasn't the first time.

Back in the tunnel, I fussed around until I got the flashlight tucked into the waistband of my shorts, so that it illuminated the small space. It was any wonder daylight didn't reach the depths of this tunnel. I wasn't sure what had brought the Queen here, but it was beyond risky to choose this space as a hide out.

I slid her withered form up the curved side of the tunnel and allowed the water to drip off her mummified remains. She was small. The Queen had always been a petite figure but now she was emaciated and appeared to be missing her lower limbs too. Oh…Of course. She'd been healing from the Rhodes bombing when the takeover occurred. She'd lost her legs. I stared at her misshapen form.

How the hell had she ended up here? She had been convalescing in Baton Rouge at the time of her death.

I shook off my questioning. I'd have plenty of time to think about this later. Now was not the time. I covered her with two trash bags, one from each end, and cinched the drawstrings tight. I then wrapped her with the woolen blanket, an awkward maneuver considering the tight confines. Once I was satisfied no light could penetrate her coverings, I lifted her. As I did, the flashlight illuminated the water that she'd been sitting in for the last few years. Beneath her were bones. Human bones. I gasped. No. Not now. I couldn't deal with that now. I turned quickly and carried her almost weightless form to the tunnel entrance.

I waited, mostly out of sight, until a car passed, and then crossed the road and eased her gently into the trunk of my car.

I started the engine and drove.

It took me ten minutes to get back to the duplex. But instead of turning off into my street, I kept driving. I avoided the French Quarter, my anxiety telling me it wasn't wise to take the Queen back to her old stomping grounds. So I just drove. I drove the city aimlessly. Through Mid-City, through suburbia, through industrial estates. The sun started to drift to the west making me squint, and I fumbled through my handbag until I located my sunglasses and kept going.

I had no idea where I was going. I only had a quarter tank of gas left. My mind swirled with possibilities. All of them awful. I could just pull off on a quiet street, open my trunk and expose the Queen to the sun. Problem solved.

My stomach roiled. I couldn't do that. That was akin to murder. Correction—it was murder.

(But it wouldn't be my first, would it?)

Or I could show up at first dark to the palace and hand her to Thalia. And how would that pan out? For me and for Thalia? Thalia would probably stake her and be done with it. But that was treason or something akin to that, wasn't it? And I would be culpable too. I was a witness. And what if someone else did know Sophie Anne was in that gross tunnel dessicating?

Thalia and I were friends, but I wasn't stupid. Our friendship only went so far. Thalia was a vampire first and foremost. If I became a threat to her existence, then I would cease to exist. So, I'd need to get Eric involved. But how could I? Conscionably, how could I drag him into this mess? He already had enough legal untangling to do after Queen Freyda's death. I couldn't ask him to commit treason!

The next vampire summit was fast approaching and Eric was preparing for a tribunal there, alongside Queen Sigrid and King Christoff, the new monarchs of Oklahoma. But what if Sophie-Anne were somehow able to be revived? The mess that would cause… I recalled the former Queen. She was a calculating, power-hungry monarch. She would demand her throne back. If she'd escaped without being staked by Victor Madden and his lackeys during Felipe's takeover then the state was still technically hers. Or could be argued as such. And if she took the throne, I'd be back in a very tenuous position.

I had a very personal stake in this. Louisiana had just come under what looked to be peaceful and, fingers-crossed, sensible rule. Whatever decision I made, it couldn't just be a selfish one… I needed to consider Eric and Thalia and all of Louisiana's vamps. If Thalia didn't give up her throne it could start a skirmish, or even a war.

So what if I were to stake Sophie-Anne? Or leave her to perish in the sun? I could live with that, if it meant protecting my friends. But… say someone did know she was there. And it somehow traced back to me? I swallowed thickly. That would be bad. That would be very bad. Eric couldn't save me. Thalia couldn't save me. I would be put before the tribunal too. Things didn't typically turn out well for humans in that scenario.

I wanted to cry. It felt akin to being tasked with solving world peace. Or performing quantum physics.

I pulled up on a side street near the airport. It was a spot that offered a good vantage of the planes arriving and departing. I'd been gripping the steering wheel so tight for so long that my knuckles were white and fingers were numb.

With shaking hands, I retrieved my cell phone and got Mr. C on speed dial.

"Good afternoon, Sookie," my boss answered warmly.

"Desmond…" My voice cracked and I began to cry.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"It's okay, I'm okay," I managed to say, before having to pause again for another round of tears. "I need advice."

"Advice?" he said. He paused, probably trying to piece together what sort of trouble I might be in. "Where are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm safe. I just… need some advice."

"What sort of advice?"

"Legal… or, I guess, life advice." As I stared out at the runway, a large plane began taxiing across the runway. Maybe I could just ditch the car somewhere? Drive it into Lake Pontchartrain. Fly away and never come back.

"What's happened?"

I took some steadying breaths. I needed to be smart. I needed to be very, very smart right now. I couldn't implicate myself. I couldn't drag my boss into this. I couldn't let anyone know.

"It's hypothetical."

"Pardon me?"

"Hypothetical advice."

This was met with silence on his end for several seconds. "Very well. I can provide you with advice for a hypothetical scenario. Just give me a moment." The phone disconnected and for an awful moment, I thought he was tracking me down. That he'd pop into existence like a fairy did and fill the passenger seat of my car.

Anxiety crested and my breathing ratcheted up again. My phone rang and I answered with the first vibration.

"I apologize," he said smoothly. "I needed to retire somewhere quiet so I could speak with you." He sounded calm and steady. It was how he spoke with clients. It was a reassurance, and I clung to it.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Tell me."

"Let's say," I said, pausing carefully to form the words, "through random and purely coincidental circumstances, a person finds another… person."

"What sort of person?"

"Well, not exactly a person. Let's say, someone through sheer luck discovers a figure of note from an area in which they both reside." Oh Lord, the words were twisting up in my head and mouth. "A figure of note long thought dead…"

He took a second to absorb this before responding. "A missing person?"

"Not exactly."

"Mm. So this… hypothetical figure of note was once in a position of authority?"

Damn, Cataliades was good.

"Let's say, for the purpose of this example, that they," I faltered, "um, once wielded a great deal of power in the area. And now, they aren't… exactly… alive."

"Hypothetically speaking, if someone's found a dead body and are concerned that they may be implic—"

I cut him off. "No, no, no. They aren't dead either."

Mr. C didn't speak for what felt like minutes.

"Let me clarify the minutia of this concocted scenario," he said in a careful, measured tone. "Someone, by sheer chance, has discovered an authority figure previously believed to be dead. And said authority figure is, in fact, in the present moment neither dead nor alive."

"Right."

More silence.

"Could this individual, the one that was found, be in an altered state, one perhaps known to their kind? One that precludes them from both life and death? A limbo, of sorts."

"Hypothetically, that would be correct."

"And the person that found them, are they…?" he trailed off, waiting for me to fill the blank.

"Hypothetically, in an extremely vulnerable position," I said.

"In this imagined scenario, does anyone else knows about this discovery...?" Desmond said this in an open-ended sort of way.

"No one else knows."

"Good." He sounded relieved. "I think if the person that they found had been in this… limbo condition for several years, it wouldn't create any undue harm to let them remain that way while a sensible decision could be made about what to do with them."

"Okay," I whispered. "But, uh… what if the person who found the figure of note has removed said figure and now, uh, has them in their possession?"

Silence, and then he said, firmly, assuredly: "Then I suggest they have a tough decision to make. One that would require thinking and consideration of all options. Perhaps they need to isolate themselves, before choosing what to do next with the individual that they found. As long as this person can be sure, and I mean absolutely sure that no one else knows of their discovery."

"No. No one knows," I breathed.

"And in this scenario, are they able to remove themselves reasonably far away from any potential trouble?"

"Yes," I said after a moment. "I think I can—I mean, they could do that."

"Very well. We can surmise then, that the finder in this scenario is afforded a degree of safety from consequences while they decide what to do next. I believe their first priority would be to find a safe place to temporarily relocate themselves to."

"Okay. Thank you." I mopped my face with a tissue and blew my nose. And then shakily added, "This has been an interesting example to discuss."

"Sookie," he said, and I could hear his usual familiarity return to his rumbly voice. "You've being doing a marvelous job in my employ. You should take a long weekend, perhaps return to your ancestral home. Take some time out to be alone. If you have your work laptop and cellphone with you, I can contact you with any urgent work matters that need attending to. And if you are happy to work from home, perhaps you could do some research? How does that sound?"

"Good. Yes, I can do that."

"I'm pleased. I'll see you back at the office Wednesday morning, unless I hear from you otherwise."

•───── ─────•

I got back to my apartment as the sun went down. I parked on the street out front, double, triple checked I locked the car and raced through the gardens to my duplex.

I focused on getting my jangly nerves into some semblance of stillness. It had been a couple of months since I'd strengthened my connection with Thalia and Eric. I wasn't sure if she was still privy to my moods. God, I hoped not.

I packed my bags. I was normally a fastidious packer. I think ahead, write lists, fold carefully. I've even got a garment bag for dresses and the like. This time I stuffed everything I could think of into a duffel bag. Scooped toiletries into my makeup bag. Packed my laptop bag, filled a canvas tote bag with study materials. I was sure I'd both overpacked and forgotten things.

I hustled downstairs and left a note for Diantha on the fridge telling her I'd be back in the middle of the next week. I was slipping on my shoes when night fell... And the vampire mind in the condo next door buzzed to life.

I cursed, loudly, angrily, six ways to Sunday.

I had somehow forgotten that I was joined at the hip with Bubba. I tugged at my hair in panic. He couldn't come with me. There was no two ways about it. But I couldn't leave him in his present state either.

I stacked my luggage outside on our narrow-adjoined porch, locked my door and strode over to Bubba's. I had no flipping idea what I was going to do—what I was even going to say.

"Bubba. There's been a family emergency," I told him when he opened the door. I spoke the words into existence without absolutely any forethought. He stood holding the door. The apartment behind him was dark, save the pale blue glow emanating from the television in the living area. His features transformed with concern. "I have to go home."

"Sure thing, Miss Sookie. Just gimme time to pack my stuff."

"No," I said and caught his arm before he could turn away from the doorway. "You can't come."

"You're leaving me on my own?"

"You have to stay here. It's tricky to explain why, but I have to go there alone. I know this isn't ideal… but it's the way it has to be."

My anxiety grew with every passing moment. I needed to skedaddle and fast.

"What am I to do about my curse?"

"You'll need to handle it on your own for a few nights. You're welcome to stay here." I'd deal with whatever the fall out was when I got back.

"I can't! You can't leave me. Miss Sookie, please," Bubba began to get agitated in the way I'd seen him become when people called him by his human name. His hands fisted, the whites of his eyes showed like a panicked horse. Oh Lord, the last thing I needed was for him to freak out. The way vampires treated him with undue care always left me with the impression he was unnaturally strong, even for a vampire.

"Bubba," I said firmly and grasped his fisted hands. "Look at me."

His rolling eyes snapped to mine, and I scrambled mentally for the right thing to say. "It's just for a few nights. Just stay here and don't worry about any damage or messes."

Uncertainty burned brightly in his eyes. I hurriedly pawed inside my handbag and unzipped the internal pocket.

"Turn around," I commanded in the surest tone I could muster. Bubba complied and I clasped the hummingbird necklace round his neck.

He pawed at his neck. "What is it?"

"This necklace is imbued with special powers."

"Powers? Will it help?"

"Yes." It wasn't exactly a lie; it did have power. Just not the kind that could erase a curse. But wasn't it the case that a placebo didn't work unless the person truly believed it? "It's a good luck charm. And actually—"

Next, I opened my wallet and removed the actual good luck charm my old friend Octavia Fant had given me for my birthday a few months earlier. I'd forgotten all about it until that moment. It was a card with a pressed four-leaf clover and a beautiful Celtic symbol drawn with a calligraphy pen. This one was apparently a legitimate good luck charm. "Here, I have another one. A fairy charm."

After the day I'd had, I couldn't truthfully say it had ever helped me.

His eyes widened and he closed his fingers around the card with reverence. I pecked his faintly stubbly cheek. "I'm really sorry. I wouldn't leave you unless I really had to."

It would have to do.

I filled the tank with gas, bought a few snacks and hit the freeway, staying roughly ten miles over the limit the entire time. My anxiety seemed to recede the further I drove. The miles began to pass in soothing monotony; it was easy to forget the reason I was heading for Bon Temps and to forget the cargo I was carrying… until the realization would jolt me like a horse kick to the stomach. What in the hell was I going to do?

I drove for three hours straight and called in to a rest stop on the way out of Alexandria. I parked the car under a bank of bright fluorescent lighting near the gas station entrance and ran around the side to use the restrooms. As I used the facilities, I imagined the horror of coming out to find someone had stolen my car. But then, Sophie-Anne would no longer be my problem, would she? My stomach still squirmed at the thought. My little sedan was still sitting there, of course. I navigated back onto the highway.

The night was clear, a waxing moon, with hardly any traffic. As I drove mile after mile of dark forested landscape, ethereal evening mist would appear and then abate. Luckily, it was thin enough to maintain good visual distance. I didn't have to worry about coming up on unexpected traffic.

I was jolted from my focus on the road sometime later by the flash of red and blue lights in my mirrors. Damn it. Police. I indicated and pulled off on a wide shoulder near a forest clearing. As the police car pulled up behind me I was already diving into the officer's thoughts. Highway patrol. He'd been tailing me for the last ten miles. I'd been hovering in the acceptable range above the speed limit, but he was bored and as soon as I crept up a little too fast for his liking, he decided to pull me over. He'd already run my tags. Thankfully, my driving record was clean as a whistle.

"Officer," I said in greeting when he appeared at my window. My license and registration were already in hand. The officer, a Deputy Randall Daly according to his badge, was as broad as a linebacker and walked like one too. His expression belied nothing, particularly not the extent of his boredom with his chosen career path.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, ma'am?" His ruddy, meaty face was stern.

I felt a flash of irritation at being called ma'am. I wasn't that old, was I?

"Gosh, I don't have a taillight out, do I? I checked before I left! Honest to goodness." I layed on the sweet, southern girl schtick. I honestly had checked my taillights before leaving New Orleans to avoid exactly this situation… And I figured it was better to say this than knowingly admit I was speeding.

He grunted and took my papers, examining them under the beam of his small flashlight. I internally cursed as he walked around my car. Examined the tires. Checked each light. He paused for a long time by the trunk of my car. My heart was in my throat by the time he came back around.

"You need to watch your speed, ma'am, I'm not going to write you a ticket this time, but it's dangerous on the highways out here at night. You were driving fifteen over." He handed my papers through the open window. I took them with a trembling hand. He noted this immediately.

"Are you alright?" He shone the flashlight in my face, and I flinched, squinting against the brightness.

"I'm fine. I just need to get home before I get too tired." He thought I looked pale. Noted a sheen of sweat on my upper lip. Noted my harried state.

"Where are you heading to this evening?"

"Back to Bon Temps. A little podunk, a few hours north of here." I smiled brightly and felt my cheeks stretch to an unnatural smile. I hated myself for it even as I was doing it.

Listening to his thoughts, there was nothing overt about me that aroused his suspicion, but the skittery way I was behaving was setting off a little seed of warning inside him. This big guy felt his gut feelings as literal feelings in his gut. Dammit, this could be a problem.

"Can you tell me the reason for your trip this evening?"

"Heading home to see family. My brother's real sick." Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool.

"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"Just water," I said and nodded to the bottle in the cupholder beside the steering wheel.

"And anything else?"

I could see the path this questioning was leading me into. He was already thinking it. He would eventually ask me to step out of the car. Perform a sobriety test. Poke around my car. Eventually even search the trunk. My heartbeat ratcheted. And then my trusty pal adrenaline kicked in. Not the skittery, panicked variety. The calm and clear-thoughted adrenaline.

"Sir," I said in response, "respectfully, I'm not discussing my day with you."

This threw him off for all of half-a-second.

"Ma'am, I'm not interrogating you. Just trying to get an idea of how your evening's been."

He was fishing for information, but I'd done nothing wrong. I worked in law now; I actually knew my rights. A small thrill rushed through me—if I was careful, I could navigate my way out of this.

"Now, am I being detained or am I free to go?" I added an extra spoon of sugar to my voice. "I really need to get to my family."

As if on cue, my cell (still tucked in my purse) began ringing. A jangly rendition of a Taylor Swift song filled the night air.

"I bet that's them now," I said. I had no clue who it was, I really couldn't care.

The officer's eyes narrowed slightly, his suspicion hanging palpably between us. "Mind stepping out of the car, ma'am?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard. "Is there a problem, officer?" I asked. My skin crawled with panic though I tried my best to sound calm. "I promise I'll keep my eye on my speed the rest of the way home."

"It's a routine check, ma'am," he replied curtly, his gaze flickering between me and the purse beside me, still ringing. "Please step out." There was an edge to his voice that did not bode well for me.

Reluctantly, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. My cellphone finally went quiet, and the silence of the night seemed louder than was possible. The officer took a few steps back and motioned for me to walk to the back of my car, his eyes never leaving me. He was checking to see if I was swaying on my feet. I walked toward him, sure and steady.

I came to a stop, and he began to sweep his flashlight over the back of my car. Oh my God.

My cellphone began ringing again.

"Family emergency, is it?" he asked, swinging the light down onto the road. His expression had softened but the skepticism still lingered in his eyes.

"Yes, my brother's in the hospital," I replied, my voice tight with tension. "I need to get there as soon as possible."

The officer sighed, resigning himself to another evening of patrolling the highway without incident, and nodded, taking a step back. "Alright. You drive safely. Keep your eye on that speedometer."

I got back in, started my little car, clasped the steering wheel with trembling, sweaty hands and made my way back onto the freeway. I kept my gaze darting between the road and my rearview mirror, keeping a close eye on the officer's movements. He waited until I was several hundred yards ahead and pulled out behind me. He followed me for a few minutes, the whole time I white-fisted the steering wheel, being sure not to step a single hair out of line—the ticker sitting dead on 75 miles per hour. He eventually pulled his car around, doing a U-turn and heading back the other way.

Oh, praise be.

I took a deep, fortifying breath, and pressed my foot a little harder on the gas.

A/N: Thank you to my most amazing and talented beta, Lilah93! Her eagle eyes have saved me going cross-eyed, her advice is always spot on, and her feedback gives me life... her writing too TBH :)

Finally, check back again for another chapter in a couple of days. I won't keep you hanging long!