“WHAT DOES IT EVEN MATTER IF THIS WOMAN rises up and eats all the other kind of vampire? If she wipes out half of them, doesn’t that help our cause?” Kiley argues. “The enemy of my enemy, right?”
“Right. Some ancient vampire goddess lady is going to drink a cup of our blood, lick her lips and say, ‘Thanks! That was refreshing! Now I’m off to eat half of the blood-sucking monsters that walk the night!’ without so much as looking our way a second time. That’s exactly what’s going to happen—silly of me to worry!” Hunter rants, pacing.
“I’m saying if what Lydia said is true, this Elder will be distracted—they will all be distracted—and we can make a break for it. We can use this if we play our cards right.”
“This is a war we’re talking about, Kiley—a war between the vampires. Here,” he thrusts a tablet out at Kiley. A YouTube video embedded in some other site: distorted and blue, and someone wearing a mask. “Anonymous has caught on and they have proof of vampires. They outted them. Out there where our families are, where we should be. Apparently someone was blogging about exactly this and got a lot of mainstream media attention—and then his site was taken down.”
“How’d you access that?”
“It’s Anonymous. They’re everywhere. Even the vampires can’t stop them.”
“Somehow I doubt that . . . ” Kiley laments. “Maybe if we can see it we’re meant to see it.”
“So now the vampires fabricate elaborate conspiracy hoaxes to—what? Make us think the outside world knows about them when really they don’t? To make us give up on trying to escape because, hey, it’s just as bad—worse, even—out there?” He rubs his temples. “You know what? No. I can’t even. I can’t do this anymore—” He flops down on his bed, a tear escaping from his eye that he brushes quickly away. “It’s all so convoluted.”
“I’m saying we don’t have all the information. Victor, Lydia, the doctor—they’ve filled in blanks but we really don’t know what of it we can trust. We need someone on the outside who isn’t a vampire to give us some perspective. We need to get a message out,” Kiley comforts.
The sound of a throat clearing startles them. In the doorway Logan stands next to an athletically-built blond girl, about their age. Logan glances behind them and gives someone out of Kiley and Hunter’s field of vision a wave.
“Sure, Victor, I’ll tell her—pie tomorrow,” he says, stepping into the doorway and letting it slide closed behind him and the newcomer. “What the eff was that?! He’d have heard everything if I didn’t start babbling about Kiley’s freakin’ pie craving . . . ”
“Charlotte?” Kiley asks, stepping towards the two.
“Charlie, please,” the girls says, thrusting a hand out in greeting.
Kiley rushes to her and embraces her. “You picked an interesting time to wake up . . . ”