-- Journal of Juniper Wraithwood, penned June 22, 1998; 10:14 p.m.

Twenty-one year old Juniper Wraithwood sat in silence in the red and gold high-backed chair in the corner of her old bedroom. Her foot tapped nervously and endlessly on the floor. When it seemed that her foot had taken all it could take, she began to fiddle nervously with her right eye contact. Finally, after accidentally poking herself in her eye--and in the process somehow making both her eyes water--she resolved to sit still.

She looked around the large boudoir. She thought back to the very first night she had spent sleeping under the eclipsing black-curtained canopy. For the first year or so, the bed--like so many other things--had frightened her. But, just as with everything else, the bed soon became a comfort. Juniper glanced over her shoulder and through her pitch-black locks to look out the window.

The night was clear. A full moon shined overhead, and bright, diamond-like stars dotted the sky all around the glowing orb. It was a breath-taking beauty. Just as it had when she was younger, Juniper often found it funny that those who most got to stop and appreciate this beauty had no breath to lose. She rubbed her forehead and went to stand in front of the window, adding even more shadows to her surroundings. Vampire mansions weren’t much for lighting. The moonlight--through its mysterious beauty--seemed to make her white button up blouse glow and her black jeans darken. A shiver passed over her, and she rubbed her bare arms. From behind her, there was a single knock and the sound of the bedroom door opening.

Juniper turned to see her fifteen year old sister, Flora Wraithwood, enter, a cup of steaming coffee in one of her snowflake white hands. Flora’s long, white-blonde hair was braided down her back, and she wore black jeans and a spaghetti strap top of the same color. Red glitter made the shape of a heart across the part of the shirt where her breasts fit. She smiled--her tiny fangs shining for a moment in the moonlight--and approached her sister. She comfortingly rubbed Juniper’s back with her free hand as the other handed her the coffee.

“What you humans drink,” she said with a quiet laugh. “I thought you could use the company. Everyone else is in the foyer on the other side of the house.”

Juniper accepted the coffee gratefully and took a sip. Then, sighing, she said, “Thanks. Yeah, I couldn’t stand to sit with everyone. However, I did notice a couple of new ones. Has Initiation already come and gone?”

Initiation was what the time of the year was called when every vampire that was a member of a House could put in a request to turn a human into a vampire. Not every member of a House had to do it, and only vampires who had membership to a House had to. Freelance vampires needn’t worry about petitioning a request to anyone. However, for those that were, they could only make a new vampire during this time of year and if the request was granted by the leader of the House. It was an old rule, put into action a couple of hundred years earlier by Council House to reduce the need for vampire hunters. Seeing that ninety-five percent of the world’s vampires belonged to a House, they didn’t have to include the freelance vampires in this rule.

Flora nodded. “Yes. You were out of town.”

“How are the new ones?”

Flora gave a small laugh. “Some of them are hopelessly stupid.”

Juniper smiled. “And those who aren’t?”

“Have read too much Stoker.”

Both girls laughed. Juniper took another sip of her coffee. In all honesty, she didn’t really have the right to laugh at the new ones. She had been like that once too. She quite well remembered the night she had asked one of her father’s friends if he could turn into a bat. The resounding laughter she had received in response still brought a tinge of embarrassment to her cheeks, even though it was now only memory. She had come to learn that vampires couldn’t turn into bats or wolves or mists like novels and such had said they could, but rather, they could make a human think they could. A vampire’s gaze was hypnotic, and they could produce a scentless, invisible hallucinogen that affects any human near enough to breathe it in.

“Juniper?” Flora asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Are you all right?”

Juniper set her cup down and sighed. Rubbing her arms again, she made her way over to her bed and sat down. The tears she had been denying since receiving her sister’s telephone call hours earlier finally welled up and spilled over onto her cheeks. Not too long after, a sob escaped her lips, causing her to clap a hand over her mouth. Flora’s eyes were sympathetic and her smile was warm as she sat beside her sister. She put her cold arms around her and stared into her eyes.

“Don’t cry, Juniper. This time comes even for vampires. Father is ready to pass on,” she said.

“But I thought vampires were immortal. I thought Dad was the one parent I’d never lose!” Juniper cried onto her baby sister’s shoulder.

“We are, but when you’ve lived as long as Father has, life begins to lose its luster. Then, it is best to move on and leave the more robust vampires to carry on your legacy.”

“But couldn’t he wait?” Juniper asked, knowing the question must have sounded silly. “I mean, can’t he wait until I’m gone and you’re older?”

“Juniper, that’s not fair. You can’t ask a parent to watch his child die.”

“But you can ask a child to watch her father die?!”

Flora shrugged, shaking her head. “It’s not fair either way, but it is the order of things.”

Juniper shoved herself to her feet, wiping angrily at her tears. She paced like a caged tiger before her ever calm sister. Flora looked like a spectator at a tennis match, silently following her with only her eyes. Juniper, for the most part, was just trying to sort out her mind. The same sentence just kept repeating itself over and over again.

It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!

A week ago, everything was fine. The art gallery she worked for was having a showing overseas, meaning she would have to go and lead people around, showing them the art pieces and try to explain what the artist was feeling when they painted it. Juniper had paid her apartment’s rent early; arranged for someone to come by and feed Twinkle, her white and black cat; and had made sure everything was off when she left. She had only returned five hours earlier and had found her telephone ringing off the hook.

She would have never imagined--never in a million years--that the dainty voice on the other end would’ve been Flora, telling her that their father was planning on dying tonight.

Finally, Juniper stopped pacing. She faced her sister, who was still silent. Flora had always reminded her of a statue of perhaps Aphrodite--ever beautiful, ever tempting to the opposite sex, but a force to be reckoned with if crossed. Juniper opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Flora said, standing.

A young woman entered and bowed her head.

“Master Dominic wishes to see Miss Juniper, please,” she said.

Juniper nodded. Giving her sister a sad ghost of a smile, she followed the vampire woman out of the room.