According to Dr. Basil Wroethisbane (as he had introduced himself), the Chapterhouse of the Coven — and Great Family, for they were one and the same, in this one and only case — of the Vampyrica Simulacra had stood for over 200 years. And it sure as hell looked it. The house was an old, stately, four-story Viktorian mansion made of tarnished red brick, set back in an overgrown front yard in an old subdivision of similarly gothic and elderly homes, its windows tall and narrow, with arched tops. The turret tower on the left side of the house had a tall, pointed peak with a weathervane mounted to its sharp, witch’s-hat peak. Several chimneys rose up from the steeply-angled, black-shingled rooftops, all of which were beset with tall windowed gables. The concrete of the sidewalk leading up to the double doors on its massive front porch — adorned by huge gargoyles on either side — had seen better days, as had the wood and crystal glass of the doors themselves, which sat betwixt a large set of big picture windows that gazed out on the unkempt lawn and the ill-lit street beyond it. An eldritch light burned behind the windows, just barely illumining the interior.

  “Hurry,” said Basil, as he put the delivery truck in park and got out. “The sun will be up soon. You haven’t been Vampires for very long . . . But I take it you know what that means.”

  “Yes,” said Jetta. “I know what that means.”

  “Everybody out,” said Taliavanova, as she opened her door and got out of the delivery truck. The Japanese Vampire — Mystikite was having trouble taking him seriously, with a name like Buckaroo Tokusatsu — opened the van’s back doors, and he, the one named Jean-Luc Davros, and the one named Taurial Lily all got out. Phineas, Elphion, and Naruto all looked toward Jetta and Mystikite. The two of them exchanged a long glance. Finally, Jetta shrugged at him. Not knowing what the hell to do, he shrugged back. He supposed that meant that they agreed that they didn’t know what the hell to do. So, Jetta turned to them, and said:

  “I guess we follow the leader. Which for now is this Basil guy. He did save us from getting owned back there.”

  “‘Ey now, lass, we were ‘olding our own!” said Phineas. “Ye’ve gotta give us som’ credit for tha’. Us five brand-new Vampires . . . again’ a bunch of experienced warrior Vamps? An’ we held our own? For tha’ long? Aye, give us our due, Jetta!”

  “Phineas is right!” said Elphion. “We coulda kicked their asses!”

  “Yeah,” said Naruto. “We — we d — d — did alright back there.”

  “No,” said Jetta, “we barely survived. We would’ve eventually been toast if this ‘Dr. Basil Wroethisbane’ hadn’t shown up and rescued us from those guys. So I say we follow him. He’s offering us shelter from the sun, and blood to feed on. And safety in numbers. And explanations. Like, who the hell was that ‘Krycek’ person? And what’s this ‘Civil War’ shit all about, anyway? I vote we follow them into that house they’re all headed toward the front porch of. Like, now.”

  She headed out the back of the truck. Mystikite sighed. Well, she had a damn good point. Several, in fact. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned to the others.

  “I think she’s right,” he said. “Let’s hear what they have to say. Besides. They’re friendlier than Krycek was, right?” And with that, he walked out of the truck and jumped down to the ground outside, and followed Jetta, who had caught up with the other Vampires. Behind him, he heard Elphion, then Phineas, then Naruto all exit the truck and follow him. He smiled to himself. Ah, social engineering. The hacker’s first art.

  Mystikite walked up the sidewalk and joined Jetta behind Basil and his four companions on the roomy front porch of the mansion beneath the ancient rooftop that hung over it. Elphion, Phineas, and Naruto all joined him soon after. Basil rang the doorbell and then knocked on the door with a code — three short raps, then two with a long pause between them. A shape moved on the other side of the crystal glass, peering out at them. Then the locks — there seemed to be several — unbolted and a young female Vampire appeared. She had pink hair, and wore leather pants and a biker jacket, and a frilly-white pirate shirt beneath it. Her eyes sparkled with tears.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Oh, thank the gods!” She threw her arms around Basil’s neck and hugged him tightly, the tears now spilling as she let out a sob of happiness. “Oh blessed gods, thank goodness! Basil. You’re alive! We heard what happened. It’s all over the Dark Web . . .” She cried into his shoulder. “It’s in chat rooms, IRC channels, Facebook, Google, it’s all over, everywhere. The news just keeps coming and it’s . . . it’s horrible. Some sick fuck shot some video of the raid on Haller’s dance club. Of Krycek wiping it out . . . just killing and killing and killing . . .” She buried her face in Basil’s shoulder and cried.

  “It’s alright, Plischelle,” he said, hugging her back. “It’s alright.” He comforted her for a moment, until her sobbing subsided. Mystikite could only stare, transfixed for a moment at the raw humanity on display. Hmm. So Vampires did retain their Humanness. Or a large degree of it.

  “But — but — but it’s not just them,” she said, pulling away from him, wiping her tears, trembling, and shaking her head. “No, not just them. The ?ialené, Ta Paidiá Tou Diónysou. They’re where it starts. Los Guardianes del Tiempo . . . The House Of Iago, Na Siúlóirí Intinne, The Ministers of Peace, The Tribulators. They’ve all, all seven Covens . . . it’s all come apart. The Noble Houses are even in chaos. There is no Vivo Bestia, there is no Iterum Redire. Not anymore. Now there’s just us, the six Covens who oppose the Protectorate — and I don’t even know if we’re all on the same side — and then there’s them, Krycek and his seven gangs of thugs, all under one banner of vamp-on-vamp violence. Oh, Basil, what the hell are we gonna do? The world is coming unglued!” She buried her face in his shoulder and burst back into tears again. Basil comforted her for a moment more.

  Mystikite could only stand there and think. She had revealed so much. Was the Vampire world — the real one, the one he was a part of now — really so similar to the Underworld movies and the tabletop roleplaying game from White Wolf, Vampire: The Masquerade? How was that even possible? It was such a synchronicitous happenstance that it couldn’t be an accident. Could it? He didn’t know, but made a mental note to find the hell out. It was very similar: A Vampire society that lived just beneath the radar of Mortal society, organized into “Great Families” and “Noble Houses” (though the game didn’t have those), and these things called “Covens,” all centered around differing philosophies and sometimes disciplines. One of these “Covens” worshipped an ”alien god” called Orogrü-Nathr?k. Whatever the hell that meant. And so far he’d caught that there were four factions in this world: One called Vivo Bestia, another called Iterum Redire, neither of which existed anymore, according to Plischelle . . . and two new factions, one called ‘the Protectorate’ and another called ‘the Rebellion.’ The latter of which Basil and his Great Family — and his Coven, which in his case, were one and the same — were a part. As far as he could tell, both factions had something to do with this “Chosen One” thing. One faction — the Protectorate — wanted to find and kill the Chosen One. Him. The other wanted to find and protect the chosen one. The Rebellion. Basil. Ah, okay. It all made sense now. It had been an accident that they had stumbled onto them in that alleyway, but only partially . . . because the reason they had been there in the first place was because they had been on their way to the con. They had been looking for him.

  When Plischelle had stopped crying and had dried up to only sniffles, Basil continued, speaking in a soft voice. “I brought some new friends,” he said. “They are Emarginato, at least in Krycek’s book. I thought they would be safe here. And one of them . . . is the Chosen One.”

  “The Chosen One?” said Plischelle, with a gasp, lifting her head. “Here? You brought the Chosen One? You found Him? Her? Er, them?”

  “He’s a him, alright,” said Basil. “Created just this night, born to the darkness just under this full moon.” He gestured toward an increasingly uncomfortable Mystikite.

  The others all looked at him, especially Jetta and her friends, with quizzical looks on their faces.

  “What’s a Chosen One?” asked Elphion.

  “I promised I would explain everything,” said Basil. “And so I shall. But first, everyone get inside. I don’t like talking out in the open like this.”