The Cabinet Situation Room was unusually full.
Large digital displays lined the walls, each showing a different region of the Unified Sovereignties.
Maps.
Incident summaries.
Population centers.
Intelligence reports.
Live news coverage.
The atmosphere was tense, though remarkably controlled.
No one raised their voice.
No one paced the room.
Every person present understood that panic solved nothing.
At the head of the long conference table sat President Leland Everson.
To his immediate right sat Vice President Gideon Rourke.
Surrounding them were cabinet secretaries, intelligence directors, Homeland Security officials, the Attorney General, senior advisors, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
General Roland Beckett.
A broad-shouldered man in his early sixties whose neatly pressed uniform carried the weight of nearly four decades of military service.
He had the quiet confidence of someone who had seen enough conflict to understand how quickly it escaped anyone's control.
Near the front of the room, the Director of National Intelligence stood beside the primary display.
She pressed a button on the remote.
A map of the Unified Sovereignties appeared.
Colored markers dotted nearly every state.
"National Situation Overview."
President Everson nodded.
"Go ahead."
The director glanced at her tablet.
"Mr. President."
She touched the screen again.
The map zoomed toward several metropolitan regions.
"Most major cities remain operational."
"Hospitals continue functioning."
"Public transportation remains active."
"Law enforcement continues responding to demonstrations and isolated incidents."
Photographs replaced the map.
A damaged blood donation clinic.
Police officers separating protesters.
A shattered storefront.
"The larger cities remain... chaotic."
She paused.
"...and messy."
No one objected to the wording.
It accurately summarized the situation.
Another image appeared.
This time a rural highway.
Pickup trucks.
Camouflage.
Civilian rifles.
"In several smaller communities, organized civilian groups have begun actively hunting vampires and werewolves."
A low murmur spread around the table.
The director continued.
"They describe themselves as community protection organizations."
She changed slides.
"Our investigations indicate otherwise."
Another photograph appeared.
A burned farmhouse.
Evidence markers.
Yellow police tape.
"Current evidence supports the conclusion that these groups are deliberately targeting nonhuman citizens."
She looked around the room.
"The majority have been arrested."
"Several remain unidentified."
"The incidents are currently isolated."
She took a breath.
"They are, however, increasing."
Silence settled over the room.
The director lowered her tablet.
"That concludes the current national summary."
President Everson inclined his head.
"Thank you."
She returned to her seat.
For several quiet seconds, no one spoke.
Gideon Rourke finally broke the silence.
"We should act."
Every eye turned toward him.
His voice was calm.
Measured.
Certain.
"We should act while they're still weak."
No one interrupted.
General Beckett folded his hands.
"What exactly do you mean, Mr. Vice President?"
Gideon met his eyes.
"I mean we should neutralize the vampire population before they become impossible to contain."
Silence.
No one mistook his meaning.
General Beckett answered almost immediately.
"No."
Gideon remained composed.
"They've existed for barely over a week."
"They have no centralized command."
"No organized military."
"No national leadership."
"No established infrastructure."
"If there is ever a time to remove the threat..."
"...it is now."
General Beckett slowly shook his head.
"An offensive against vampires would be catastrophically expensive."
"They're inexperienced."
Gideon replied.
"They're also faster than conventional infantry."
Beckett answered without hesitation.
"They regenerate."
"They possess heightened senses."
"They dominate nighttime engagements."
"They're capable of crossing distances conventional soldiers simply cannot."
He looked directly at Gideon.
"We would win battles."
He paused.
"And lose the country."
The room remained silent.
Beckett continued.
"Every vampire has parents."
"Friends."
"Children."
"Coworkers."
"Neighbors."
He looked around the table.
"They are not invading forces."
"They are citizens."
"If this government begins exterminating its own citizens..."
"...public order will collapse."
He leaned back slightly.
"The Armed Forces exist to defend the Unified Sovereignties."
"Not destroy it."
President Everson nodded.
"Exactly."
He folded his hands together.
"Vampires and werewolves are citizens."
His eyes swept across the room.
"Just like every other citizen of the Unified Sovereignties."
Gideon slowly turned toward him.
He studied the President for several long moments.
Then spoke quietly.
"Mr. President..."
"...are you certain your judgment hasn't been clouded?"
The room became noticeably quieter.
Everson met his gaze.
"By what?"
"The promise."
Gideon answered.
"The possibilities."
"The benefits."
He gestured toward the reports surrounding them.
"I've listened to every discussion we've held over the past week."
"Vampire blood heals injuries that modern medicine cannot."
"It appears capable of treating diseases we've spent generations fighting."
He counted each point upon his fingers.
"There is mounting evidence that it may halt human aging."
He lowered his hand.
"So I ask again."
"Has our policy truly been driven by coexistence?"
"Or has it been driven by the extraordinary potential vampires seem to possess?"
Nobody answered.
Gideon continued.
His voice grew louder.
"In case anyone here has forgotten..."
He looked around the table.
"The intelligence reports indicate vampires do not die of old age."
He let that settle over the room.
"They are, for all practical purposes..."
"...immortal."
Silence.
He looked from one official to another.
"So tell me."
"How does humanity coexist with an immortal population?"
"If not today..."
"...then in a century?"
He paused.
"In five centuries?"
"How do ordinary citizens negotiate with individuals who've had hundreds of years to accumulate wealth, influence, knowledge, and power?"
President Everson listened without interrupting.
Only after Gideon finished did he answer.
He sighed quietly.
Then folded his hands together.
"Regardless of what they became..."
"...each one was a person."
His voice remained calm.
"They remain citizens."
"I swore an oath to protect the people of this nation."
He looked around the room.
"So did everyone sitting here."
"A random event transformed them."
"It did not erase their citizenship."
"It did not erase their families."
"It did not erase their rights."
He met Gideon's eyes.
"My responsibility is not limited to those who remained human."
"It extends to every citizen of the Unified Sovereignties."
Gideon scoffed.
"So be it."
He leaned forward.
"Then let me ask something considerably smaller."
The President nodded.
"The vampires."
"The werewolves."
"Currently serving throughout the federal government."
He looked around the table.
"Military personnel."
"Federal investigators."
"Intelligence officers."
"Civil servants."
"They now possess physical capabilities ordinary humans cannot match."
He folded his arms.
"Can they at least be removed from positions of authority?"
No one answered immediately.
"They now represent a potential threat to human survival..."
His eyes shifted toward General Beckett.
"...and national security."
Beckett answered before anyone else could.
"No."
Gideon looked at him.
Beckett's expression remained steady.
"If we strip them of their positions..."
"...we accomplish exactly what we are trying to prevent."
He folded his hands.
"We tell every vampire and every werewolf serving this country that their loyalty no longer matters."
"That years of honorable service became meaningless the moment they transformed."
He paused.
"What conclusion do you believe they'll reach?"
Gideon answered immediately.
"That humanity is protecting itself."
Beckett shook his head.
"They'll conclude coexistence was never truly an option."
"They'll conclude conflict is inevitable."
Silence settled over the room once more.
Beckett continued.
"And once enough people believe conflict cannot be avoided..."
"...they begin preparing for it."
He gestured toward the intelligence reports.
"The public notices."
"They prepare as well."
"They interpret that preparation as aggression."
"And aggression becomes justification for further preparation."
He looked directly at Gideon.
"I've spent my life studying warfare."
"Very few wars begin because two sides wake up wanting one."
"They begin because enough people convince themselves the other side has already decided."
No one spoke.
President Everson finally broke the silence.
"Our priorities remain unchanged."
He looked around the room.
"Maintain public order."
"Protect every citizen."
"Continue correcting misinformation."
"Prevent retaliation."
"And continue integrating vampires and werewolves into society."
His eyes settled upon Gideon.
"Not because of healing."
"Not because of the possibility of ending disease."
"And not because they may one day unlock extraordinary advances in medicine."
His voice grew firmer.
"Because they are citizens of the Unified Sovereignties."
The room remained silent.
Gideon held the President's gaze for several seconds.
Finally, he gave a single nod.
"I disagree."
"I know."
Everson answered quietly.
"And you're entitled to."
Gideon gathered the folder before him.
His movements were calm.
Controlled.
Then he looked around the room.
"I sincerely hope history proves me wrong."
No one responded.
Not because they agreed.
Nor because they disagreed.
But because not a single person sitting in that room could honestly say which future the Unified Sovereignties was moving toward.
───
Lavinia lay comfortably across the small bed in her apartment.
It wasn't particularly spacious.
She doubted she could have stretched much farther without her feet hanging over the edge.
Still...
It was comfortable.
She looked lazily toward the ceiling.
A small stone left her fingers.
It rose into the air.
Spun once.
Twice.
She caught it without looking.
Her fingers had already moved before gravity finished its work.
Again.
The stone climbed.
The distance between it and the ceiling barely changed.
She caught it.
Again.
Nearly identical.
The rhythm was strangely satisfying.
She shifted slightly.
One knee bent.
The other leg stretched lazily across the bed.
Golden hair spread untidily beneath her head, fanning across the pillow.
The apartment was quiet.
Everyone had returned from the police station.
Nothing particularly remarkable had happened afterward.
Adelaide had stayed behind long enough to see Marcus safely on his way before returning.
Violetta's meeting had concluded shortly after.
Then everyone had simply...
Gone home.
Lavinia smiled faintly.
It already felt normal.
She tossed the stone again.
Caught it.
The man at the station drifted back into her thoughts.
Probably the first of many.
She doubted he'd be the last person insisting vampires had somehow forced him to commit a crime.
Online certainly wasn't helping.
Theories seemed to multiply every hour.
Some insisted prolonged eye contact allowed vampires to control people.
Others believed vampire voices hid suggestions inside them.
Someone had apparently written an entire explanation involving pheromones and subconscious manipulation.
Lavinia couldn't remember exactly where she'd read that one.
She wasn't even sure she'd finished reading it.
She tossed the stone again.
Caught it.
Honestly...
She wouldn't have been surprised if people started avoiding vampires altogether.
"...Probably safer."
The words escaped before she thought about them.
Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"For them."
She rolled her eyes.
"And us."
There was enough uncertainty already.
If frightened people decided crossing the street whenever they saw a vampire made them feel safer...
Perhaps that wasn't entirely a bad thing.
Less panic.
Fewer misunderstandings.
Fewer opportunities for someone to convince themselves a vampire had done something she hadn't.
"Wonderful."
Her smile widened slightly.
"Coexistence through awkward avoidance."
She laughed quietly to herself.
"As plans go..."
"...I've certainly heard worse."
Silence settled over the room again.
She tossed the stone once more.
As a vampire...
She didn't think she was a monster.
She still laughed.
Still got distracted by things most people ignored.
Still found herself smiling whenever Gwendolyn became excited over something trivial.
Still thought Valerie was impossible to argue with.
Still liked sitting with everyone even if nobody was talking.
She still cared.
She still worried.
She still felt guilty when she upset someone.
Yet...
People could call her whatever they wanted.
Monster.
Undead.
Abomination.
Demon.
Predator.
Those words didn't really describe her.
They described the fears of the people saying them.
Someone looked at empty crimson eyes and imagined evil.
Someone else looked at pointed ears and imagined folklore.
Another saw fangs and thought of stories they'd heard growing up.
Lavinia couldn't change any of that.
She caught the stone.
This time she didn't throw it again.
Instead she simply looked at it.
It wasn't much to look at.
Just a small rock she'd picked up without really thinking about it.
Its surface was rough.
Uneven.
Tiny cracks ran through it.
Little grains sparkled beneath the bedroom light.
She could see every one of them.
Her thumb slowly traced one edge.
...
When had it started?
The thought came quietly.
Not the rumors.
Not people fearing vampires.
Something inside herself.
She searched her memories.
The blood clinic.
Her expression softened.
More than twenty armed people had arrived carrying firearms.
They hadn't come to protest.
They hadn't come to make themselves heard.
They had come intending to kill vampires.
She remembered the sound of gunfire.
The smell of smoke.
The shouting.
The confusion.
How quickly everything had happened.
When it was over...
Most of the attackers had died.
The rest had been severely injured.
She closed her hand around the stone.
She hadn't enjoyed any of it.
Not during it.
Not afterward.
She'd never celebrated.
Never thought about it with satisfaction.
Before the Divergence...
The only things she'd ever killed had existed inside games.
Enemies.
Monsters.
Things that disappeared after enough damage.
Not people.
Real people.
Her fingers loosened again.
The stone rested quietly in her palm.
Then...
The drive-by.
Three people.
Silver ammunition.
A passing car.
The police.
That had been different.
The vampires hadn't chased them to kill them.
They hadn't hunted them.
They'd called the police instead.
Two of the attackers had died.
One had survived.
Not because the vampires had chosen to kill them.
Just because events had unfolded the way they had.
The two memories settled beside one another.
Connected.
Yet different.
Lavinia frowned thoughtfully.
She didn't enjoy killing.
She was certain of that.
If someone asked whether she wanted another person to die...
The answer would still be no.
Without hesitation.
Yet...
If someone stood in front of her holding a weapon...
If they had already decided they intended to kill her...
Her thoughts changed.
She searched for the right word.
Not easier.
Not satisfying.
...
Obvious.
She blinked.
That was it.
Obvious.
Someone intended to kill her.
Stopping them before they succeeded simply...
Made sense.
It wasn't hatred.
She didn't hate humans.
Most humans hadn't done anything wrong.
It wasn't revenge.
She didn't want revenge.
It wasn't anger.
It was simply the conclusion her mind reached.
Someone choosing to kill her wasn't owed mercy simply because they hadn't succeeded yet.
Intent mattered.
The people at the blood clinic hadn't known exactly what would kill a vampire.
They'd still come intending to do it.
That intention carried weight.
A surprising amount.
She turned the stone over once more.
Perhaps...
She'd always have reached that conclusion.
Perhaps becoming a vampire had simply made acting upon it possible.
She honestly didn't know.
The thought lingered.
Then slowly drifted away.
Her fingers tightened.
The stone cracked.
A second later it crumbled completely.
Fine gray dust slipped between her thumb and finger.
Lavinia opened her hand.
Tiny particles drifted lazily downward.
She watched every individual grain float through the air.
Her eyesight caught every movement.
Every tiny spiral as the dust settled.
She smiled.
She liked being a vampire.
She really did.
Not because she was stronger.
Not because she healed.
She simply...
Liked who she was.
The realization no longer surprised her.
She didn't hate humans.
She never had.
Most were just trying to understand a world that had changed around them.
She couldn't blame them for being frightened.
If their positions had been reversed...
Perhaps she would have been frightened too.
She looked toward the ceiling again.
Then thought about the man she'd once been.
He wasn't someone she disliked.
He'd simply...
Drifted.
Work.
Home.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Days blurred together until weeks became months.
He hadn't been unhappy.
Just...
Aimless.
Lavinia wasn't.
Not anymore.
She wanted tomorrow.
She wanted another evening with everyone.
Watching Valerie argue over something completely insignificant.
Listening to Gwendolyn become excited over something that probably didn't deserve quite so much excitement.
Hearing Evelyn sound a little more confident than she had yesterday.
Watching Adelaide quietly smile whenever Marcus appeared.
She wanted ordinary evenings.
Ordinary conversations.
Ordinary laughter.
She wanted coexistence to work.
Not because she was afraid of what happened otherwise.
But because she liked this life.
She liked the people in it.
Outside, strangers argued endlessly about vampires.
Some defended them.
Some feared them.
Some wanted them gone.
Lavinia couldn't decide any of that.
She couldn't stop rumors.
She couldn't stop fear.
All she could do was live tomorrow as herself.
A small smile returned to her face.
She hoped there would be many more ordinary tomorrows.
Because somewhere deep inside...
She suspected ordinary days mattered far more than anyone yet realized.
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