“What in the Hells…?” Zalika snapped around to see all of the members of the Vampire Council in her private chambers. She had just entered her inner sanctum, underneath the prized Blood Theatre, and it was quiet. Too quiet. None of her wolves ventured out to greet her, and everything was a little surreal. “Oh. It’s you. What a pleasure.” Sarcasm dripped like thick butter from her mouth, eyes narrowed as she controlled her own feelings of fear.

A prickly, familiar voice then permeated the air. “I can taste your fear, Keket-ta-mery… I thought that was supposed to be your dominion.” Damn. Even Marmee Noir, the Mother of all vampires, had travelled here from their hidden Council in Paris. As other vampires closed in on the Master, their fangs free in the slightly cloying atmosphere in Zalika’s makeshift tomb, Marmee smiled. She was the only one who could sense fear as Zalika could, although her gifts weren’t as strong as her old apprentice. “I thought you would be more pleased to see us.”

“It is customary for Master vampires to announce their arrival before entering the domain of the Master of the City.” Zalika’s voice quietened, becoming a little more respectful. She owed everything she had to Marmee, the vampire meaning a lot to her. “What is the entire Council doing at my door, without so much as a word?”

One vampire then moved even further forward: who was known as the Earthmover. “We have found the One, Zalika.” Mr Oliver was the equivalent of the Vampire Council second in command to Marmee, and was also the second oldest vampire, despite looking like the first. He, and the rest of the Council called Zalika by her present name, as if the right of calling her by her true, given name was reserved only for dear Marmee. To a raised eyebrow, it was obvious that much information had been concealed from the absent Council member.

To a vampire with no idea what was going on, everything was becoming unnecessarily confusing. It was already bad enough that Zalika hadn’t been informed about something that everyone else obviously knew, without them barging in on her territory. It could end up with her losing face to already uneasy possible threats to her position, and she didn’t like it. Eyes growing cold, Zalika just snapped at her supposed guests. “Are you actually going to bother telling me what you’re talking about, or am I not even good enough for that?”

The other vampires paused in their movements, glancing at each other, as if silently electing the bringer of bad news. Padma, the Master of Beasts, slunk back a pace or two, as he knew that he was subservient to Zalika, being the weakest member of the Council by far. It was the Dragon, that cloaked mystery, that finally spoke, increasing ill feeling as she barely even uttered a word to her companions, never mind answer questions. “The One. The first among vampires. The Sire of Sires.” The matter-of-fact tone rang clearly through the thick air, cut glass along the insecurity of what could happen in the next few moments. Stopping, the Dragon turned to pull up a chair, the emerald cloak removed from her head, showing even more vibrant green eyes to jet black hair. Those piercing eyes stared right through to Zalika’s, entering the window of her soul. This one was the vampire that could control energy: and how obvious it was. The Dragon could pull apart Zalika in a moment, and easily the third most powerful vampire in the world. “Have you never wondered who originally Sired us, Zalika? The One who created this dark race, now spread across the planet?”

Zalika had no idea. “I believed the old stories, of course. That the Gods gave Lord Osiris and Lady Isis the power, which they abused, and so were cursed to become vampires. They then started populating the planet with us from themselves.”

“It’s good that you’re so sure of yourself.” Mr Oliver then coughed, as if trying to teach something to a child. “I can attest against that fact.” As Zalika opened her mouth, she realised that he was right. He was ancient, more ancient than Egypt itself, and if the stories were true, he couldn’t possibly exist. Osiris and Isis were the rulers of the first civilisation, but Mr Oliver was much older than that. She closed her mouth, and gave a flippant gesture with her hands, to signal for someone to continue. Perhaps they would finally tell her why they were here, telling her this.

The Dragon looked most annoyed that Mr Oliver had interrupted her, just continuing from where she and Zalika left off. “No, Zalika.” She sighed, looking to Marmee. A single nod allowed the vampire to be honest, and the Dragon turned back to her makeshift student. “Originally, there was one creature that became a vampire: but not in the way we are today. He had all of our powers combined, along with immortality, as well as being able to walk unharmed in sunlight. A stake to the heart wouldn’t wound him, a cross would only tickle, and magic from the greatest magicians would be like yanking a rabbit from a hat to what he could do.” A hesitation, giving the words enough time to sink in, then she carried on once more. “He is our God, Zalika. He Turned others, but it was difficult. At first, he tried passing on all of his power, but ordinary mortals couldn’t stand the strain. He had to dilute them, but he could never be sure of the results.” A swallow. “He Sired each of our Sires, at least two or more vampiric generations before even Marmee was born human. Tales of him survive, but twisted in myth and folklore. Only the Council-“ then a snort from Zalika – “only the Council knew the truth. We called him the Lonely God, as his compassion and care for others is unsurpassed, and… well…”

At the Dragon’s pause, Marmee saw fit to finish the thought. “And he is our God. We don’t know who he is, or even what he is, but he created us. He could be older than Time itself, but he looks like an ordinary human. His fangs retract like cat’s claws! And that is why we are here.”

The sincerity in each of the vampire’s voices was far too convincing for Zalika’s subconscious to even think that they weren’t telling the truth. An awe had entered Marmee’s gaze, an awe that Zalika had never seen. So this was it? A vampire God? Where did that leave Lord Set? Or was this ‘Lonely God’ part of the wider spectrum of Gods? So many unanswerable questions surfaced, but it would be futile to utter them. How would they ever truly know? Clearing her throat, Zalika knew that she had to stay focussed. “Why are you here.” It wasn’t even a question. She had almost given up with whatever was happening, but she had to think of her City. None of this information could ever be passed onto the populace, so how would she explain such a strong presence in New York?

Something crawled out of the shadows. Zalika could sense it, and the thick liquid of power that oozed dwarfed everyone else in the room. The mingling power was already cloying, but this was just unbearable, in such a small space. Zalika turned, but could not see anything, with her senses also failing her. She felt as weak as an infant mortal, stranded outside the womb for the first time, far away from mother, predators skulking around the cradle. “Because I told them to come.” The disembodied voice sent tremors up the vampire’s spine, making her want to fling herself to her knees, and beg for mercy. A hand touched her shoulder, and as Zalika turned her head, a young, handsome man faced her. Tall and thin, this perfect model of a mortal simply had to be the power that took over everyone else’s. “I hope you don’t mind… I’ve only been able to… ahh… surface recently.” Jaw dropping, the Master of the City had no idea what to do… which was probably a bad idea considering the power before her. Taking the chance to glimpse everyone else, to try and get some inkling of what to do, she spied even Marmee bowing her head in respect. A hand then cupped her cheek, pulling her back, and forcing her to look right into the chocolate brown eyes that spoke of death and destiny. She felt herself being rolled, over and over until she had no idea who she was, or what was happening. “Keket,” he said suddenly, grabbing her from the brink, reminding her of everything, “I want a City. I’ve been away for so long… and I want this one.” He didn’t even give her a chance to answer. “You are to go back with the Council to France, and I’ll stay here, become the Master of the City, and relearn everything that I’ve lost. Got that?”

Being hypnotised by the God of Vampires was not something one walked away easily with, and Zalika could bring herself only to nod an agreement with him. Slumping to the ground, the Lonely God smiled, and gestured for the others to go. “Carry on, everything will be fine.”

Bowing and leaving, the other vampires said nothing. What the Lonely God wanted, he got. The Father of vampires was obviously different to the tales that the Dragon spun, but one thing was for certain. The old New York City had finished. New York, and Blood Theatre, was now his.