Washington DC is not a particularly fun city at midnight. Sure there are clubs and bars open, but I am more of a museum and monuments type of gal.

After walking the mall, at the truly glacial pace of a human stroll, seeing the everything lit up at night, and avoiding the occasional mugger, I sat down at a bench by the carousel and scrolled on my phone. Sure, we have a plan, but it doesn't hurt to monitor the continuing developments on the supernatural sub or do a more through background check of the people we will need to include in our plans.

There is so much time left. Ugh.

Bored, I fall into old habits. Scroll through the news, facebook, email.

It was a mistake to let old habits take over. There, in my inbox, are hundreds of letters from my sister. My human sister. My human sister who thinks I'm missing or dead or human trafficked. Per protocol, I haven't spoken to her since I was turned, almost fifteen years ago.

I was a postdoc helping out on a dig, cataloging and entering the finds into the historical record. We found a very valuable tomb, and I was taking the find back to base when I was driven off the road by some bandits. They took the treasure and left me for dead on the side of the road. Remus found me, figured this was an accident where a body going missing would not be out of the norm, and turned me.

The emails read like journal entries. I start from the beginning.

"Dear Alyssa, I don't know where you are, but I miss you..."

"Dear Alyssa, I decided to go into Archeology. I know you were more anthropology, but this feels like a way of keeping you alive..."

"Dear Alyssa, happy birthday!"

"Dear Alyssa, I got married to the most wonderful woman…"

"Dear Alyssa, mom died today…"

"Dear Alyssa, dad lost his battle with cancer…"

"Dear Alyssa, I finished my PhD!"

"Dear Alyssa, we are moving to England! I got a job at the British Museum!"

"Dear Alyssa, I'm pregnant!"

"Dear Alyssa, meet your new niece and nephew!"

"Dear Alyssa, I miss you..."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She writes every nuance about her day, how the kids are growing. It's like I was never taken, like I'm sitting there next to her, deeply involved in her life. Leaving my younger sister was one of the hardest things I ever had to do… not that I really had a choice.

I want to see her. I want to hug her. I want to play with my, now seven year old, niece and nephew. I miss her so much it aches. I feel hollow. Eternity is not worth losing this, losing family. I wish I could cry.

When I finish reading the fifteen years of emails, it is 2:30 in the morning. I'm late to get back.

I stretch and try to think happy thoughts while stretching out the kinks and walking back to the library. I'm sure both Damian and Vulcan will smell my sadness if I don't get my mind off her, but it is hard. Now that I've had this glimmer of connection, not responding is taking all of my willpower.

I get back to the office. "You're late," Damian points out, "you okay? I've never known you to not be punctual."

"Yeah, I'm good. Lost track of time." I nod. They don't look convinced, so I change the subject. "Are we approved? We moving forward with the plan?"

Damian turns away, gathering supplies Vulcan has laid out. Vulcan replies, "We are proceeding as planned."

"That's great! So, what's next?"

"You will need to get the key to enter my old laboratory, and then meet up with my son in Greece. He will guide you to the laboratory and show you how to work the equipment." Vulcan replies. "At the same time, Damian will coordinate with our people imbedded in the science community and guide the humans to the technological breakthroughs they will need."

"Great! So, where's the key?"

"We will need to steal it from the British Museum." Damian answers.

"The British museum?" I'm stunned.

"Yes," Vulcan turns to me, "is that a problem?"

"That's where my sister works."

He looks confused now, and turns to Damian, "I don't recall any vampires being in England"

Damian looks at me, "We dont… and certainly not from our coven..."

"No, not—my human sister from before I was turned. She is one of the curators there."

Now they both look alarmed. "How do you know this?" Vulcan asks. Damian as withdrawn into himself again, parsing this new information.

I take out my phone and open the email looking for the specific letter, "I looked at my email. I know I'm not supposed to, but apparently my sister has been writing me an email almost every day to tell me about her life, what's going on in the world, everything. She even sends pictures." I hand the phone over. Vulcan reads the letter then hands it to Damian.

"This poses a problem," Vulcan asserts.

"…Or an opportunity," Damian counters. Vulcan looks at Damian alarmed.

"There is a reason we do not allow those that have been turned to reach out to their families. It is both dangerous and heart breaking."

"True. However, this is not a standard situation. We are in a fight for all of our lives. If we can convince her to steal the key—"

"Why do we have to steal the key? Can't we just make a copy of it?" I interject, "It would be much easier."

"The door will not recognize a copy. There are electronics in the key that were made with the door. They work together in their true forms or not at all." Vulcan sounds like he deeply regrets making them that way. I bet he never thought a situation like this would occur.

Damian hands me my phone back. "We will come up with what to say on the plane."

"We are going to fly to England?" He hands me a passport and wallet.

"We are going to fly to England."