Chapter 3 The Governor

The Nest is still the tallest building in the North, standing out with its sleek, bloodred design, stretching both underground and up into the sky. It's not just for show; it's the heart of our Vampire community. Shops, offices, services.

Anything and everything, including a very specific selection of non urgent healthcare and blood.

I remember bringing Emilia here once. She was so shocked by how modern everything was, expecting some gothic nightmare. Instead, she found an architectural masterpiece. She'd expected velvet curtains, candelabras, and, I don't know, hanging corpses. Instead, there were flexible spaces and automated systems and plenty of convenience.

It's not what she expected, but I guess she came around to it.

"I brought you here when you were younger," I murmur to myself. "This place used to scare the hell out of me."

Velantra looks back at me, seeming oddly amused. But I don't say anything. Instead, I follow her deeper into the building. We're flanked by two guards in full uniform, a sign that I'm still very much unwanted here. I'm not even allowed to be comfortable. Walking past portraits of my ancestors, I notice their expressions: distant, cold, unhappy. It's a weird thing to inherit. We stop in front of a door. Velantra gives it a soft knock. "The councilman is waiting for you." I stare at her, trying to find the words. But I don't have them. "Is something wrong?" Velantra raises an eyebrow. "You think he called you here for that?" I pause, then shrug. "What else could it be? To reminisce? To ask about my feelings?" "You've been among the Humans too long," she says softly, opening the door for me. "I thought you meant something like him needing a kidney," I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "We're Vampires, Agony. We make choices for the greater good. Or we don't make them at all," she replies, already heading out the door before I can muster the eye-roll or the "fuck off" that's been building up inside me. I sigh, glance at the stone-faced guards she left behind, and step into my father's office. The first thing I notice are the two massive walls of windows. It's all part of Father's image. Every Human I've ever spoken to thinks Vampires are all about the shadows, that we're allergic to daylight, but they're wrong. The sun may be a constant threat to us-poisonous and deadly if overexposed-but that's why we crave it. Windows like these are a status symbol, a display of obscene wealth and power. They're made with expensive materials that filter out everything dangerous to us. Large windows? Even better. Beyond them stretches the river that divides the City-north and south, Vampires and Humans. The border with Werewolf territory is just a few hundred feet away, but the area is heavily guarded, with towers, checkpoints, and a constant presence. The only bridge across is so closely watched that I don't think any vehicle has crossed it in my lifetime. Beyond that lies an endless oak forest, stretching southward for miles. I've always thought it was smart not to build civilian settlements close to a border that's seen so much bloodshed. When Michael and I were children, before I was sent away, Father walked in on us discussing why the Vampire headquarters was so close to one of our deadliest enemies. "To remember," he said. "And to remind." I still think that's messed up. "Agony." Father finishes tapping at the screen and stands from behind his polished mahogany desk. He's not smiling, but he's not cold either. "It's good to see you again," he says, his voice smooth but distant. "Sure, something like that," I reply, eyeing him. It's clear the years have been kind to Samuel Richards. I study his tall, sharp frame, his chiseled features, and the familiar wide-set eyes. He's aged, his once golden hair now flecked with silver, but still slicked back perfectly as always. I've never seen him look any other way-always impeccably put together. Even now, though the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, they're done so with precision, as if there was never an ounce of casualness in the gesture. I can't tell if he's trying to make this feel less formal or if he's trying to trick me into thinking it's a casual chat. Either way, it doesn't work. When he motions to the leather chair across from him, I just lean back against the door. "Velantra says you're not dying." I aim for sharp, maybe a bit rude, but it probably comes out sounding more curious than I intended. "I trust you're in good health too?" He gives me a faint smile, then surveys me with his cool gaze. "How have the past seven years treated you?" I glance at the vintage clock behind him, watching the second hand tick off a few seconds. "Peachy," I mutter, then glance back at him. "Really?" He sizes me up with a keen eye. "Better remove those." He gestures at my brown contacts. I considered taking them out before I walked in, but what's the point? There are plenty of other signs that I've spent time living among Humans-like the fangs I carefully file to dull points every week, for example. "I was at work," I answer. "Of course," he says, and his voice softens just slightly. "And how's your little friend? Safe, I trust?" My jaw tightens. "How do you-" "Oh, Agony." He cuts me off, his voice dismissive. "Did you honestly think your communications with Michael went unnoticed?" I grit my teeth behind my back, fighting the urge to slam the door and walk right out. But there's a reason I'm here, and I need to know what it is. So I pull my phone from my pocket, setting it down on the desk face-up. I tap the timer app and set it for exactly ten minutes, turning the phone toward him before leaning back in the chair. "Why am I here?" He presses his lips together as if thinking over his next words. "It's been years since I've seen my only daughter. Shouldn't that be reason enough?" "Eight minutes and fifty-four seconds left." His face twitches, and for the briefest moment, I see genuine regret flash in his eyes. Then he speaks, his tone softening. "There is to be a wedding." I blink, taken aback. "A wedding? You mean like... a Human wedding?" "A marriage ceremony, yes. Like the Vampires used to have." I stare at him, disbelieving. The idea is laughable. Weddings? Those are long out of style. For centuries, Vampires have avoided long-term commitments, what with our species' issues around reproduction. Besides, Vampires have never been known for romance. It's always been about survival. "Whose?" I ask. Father lets out a slow sigh. "It's yet to be decided." I don't know why, but something about it doesn't sit right with me, though I can't pinpoint exactly why. Before I can question further, he shifts his focus. "Since you chose to live among the Humans, I assume you've been keeping up with the news?"

"Some of it," I lie, keeping my voice neutral. I could be oblivious to everything happening in the world, and right now, I wouldn't care. I've been too busy with other things-searching, scouring.

"Recently, the Humans had an election."

"An election?" I ask, forcing myself to sound interested.

"Yes. Marcus Portland was not re-elected."

I raise an eyebrow. "Governor Portland? Really?  That's a surprise."