64. A New Beginning
Chapter 64
A New Beginning
Town council chambers—Moments later
C erissa swallowed her fear. Her biggest secret was out. What was another? “I’m Karen’s maker. I shifted into my vampire form and turned her.”
“What?” Mitch’s mouth hung open and his eyes went wide. “That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not,” Rolf said, and heads swung to gape at him.
“I’m so sorry,” Cerissa whispered, collapsing against Henry and holding tight to him. The fiery adrenaline flowing through her veins along with a rapid series of morphs left her weak and shaking. She hooked Karen’s shoulders with her other arm to wrap them all together in a hug. Her husband and her bestie—her child—were alive, and with the initial showdown over, she had to do everything she could to ensure they stayed that way.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” he replied, stroking her back.
“I’m sorry, too,” Karen said. “I shouldn’t have trapped you the way I did.”
“I understand. You were dying, in pain, and on morphine. Hard to think straight under those conditions.”
““So now what?” Henry asked.
“I—”
A sonic boom rattled the air.
“Oh, fuck,” Ari said with a groan.
Cerissa spun around, a sneaking suspicion creeping over her. “Was that what I think it was?”
Ari grimaced. “They dropped a dome. I may have dumped Inanna in Agathe’s office and shouted about a shitshow.”
Cerissa scowled right back at him. “You did what ?”
“It’s not like we could hide this from them, Ciss. I figured we needed the help. Though I didn’t expect the dome.”
“I guess the reveal is here.” Cerissa’s shoulders slumped, anxiety spiking, as she considered Agathe’s reaction. The Lux leader had shown up in New York when Tig discovered the truth, and now that the entire community had seen Cerissa’s true form, Agathe was going to appear here, eventually. Cerissa had to find a convincing argument to get Agathe to accept this situation the same way she had when Tig learned about the Lux.
“A dome?” Tig asked, her brow furrowing. “Like from your wedding?”
Cerissa had shared the Lux’s ultimate plan with Henry, but Tig was still in the dark. “Well—”
Before she could finish, Agathe and a contingent of Lux Protectors flashed into the room, all in human guise, facing Cerissa. “My child, you never do things the easy way.” She reached through the wall of Cerissa’s supporters and gripped her wrist, hauling her toward the double-door exit, directing the other Lux to stay. “Keep the residents here and prevent this from going sideways.”
Cerissa stumbled as Agathe dragged her. It couldn’t go any more sideways than it already had. The shock on the faces of her friends and neighbors told her all she needed to know. Witnessing her true form had been enough to jar them into violence, but seeing a dozen Lux materialize in council chambers inflicted so much mental trauma that they froze. She had to pivot the situation, and broke from Agathe’s grasp, coming to a halt.
Tig motioned at the door. “Use one of the conference rooms, out those doors and to the left.”
“Do you mind staying here?” Cerissa touched her arm, letting her eyes plead with the chief. “Keep Karen safe?”
“No, I’m going with you. Rolf, Zeke, Liza, Jayden—they’ll guard her.” When no one moved, Tig pointed a finger at Zeke and shouted, “Now. Get everyone into seats.”
The order prompted most people to move. But Mitch remained standing. “You’ve taken our guns and now you’re going to leave us at the mercy of these strangers while you go off with Cerissa?”
Tig huffed. “Mitch, your guns are worthless against the Lux. Inanna staked Cerissa, and she morphed, healing the wound. Use your heads, people. Don’t panic. If they wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. Instead, they’ve been feeding you to keep you alive—where do you think the tech for the clone blood came from? Now sit down and shut up while I go figure this out.” Then she motioned at Rolf. “Get back in the mayor’s chair, bring your wife with you, and take control of the meeting. Explain what happened before all this.” Tig waved a hand at the crowd. “Tell them why the Lux sent Cerissa in the first place to solve our blood shortage problem. Do your job as a leader and calm the people.”
Rolf gave a sharp nod, gathered an arm around Karen, and guided her to the dais, carrying an additional chair for her. Nellie surrendered her council seat and slunk to the back of the room under Tig’s glare.
Cerissa’s heart tugged at her. She was afraid to leave her child alone. “Karen, are you okay?”
“She’s fine. Nothing will happen to her.” Tig waved Cerissa to the back of the chambers. “And Xavier—get out of Marcus’s seat. Marcus—take your place at the town attorney’s table and help Rolf.” Tig opened one of the double doors. “Now let’s get this sorted with Agathe.”
But Cerissa didn’t move. Ignoring the chief, she waited for Karen’s reply.
“I’m okay. Really.”
Cerissa nodded, watching until Zeke shifted closer to the dais in a guarding stance. Once she was sure her child would be safe, she allowed Henry to guide her into the lobby. Agathe stomped behind her, and Ari moved to follow, but Gaea grasped his arm, tugging him back.
“Gaea,” he said, “I’ll tell you everything. But let me go deal with this first. Please.”
“If you don’t return, young man, I will hunt you down.”
“Look, sweet stuff, I’m not as young as you thought, but I’ve no intention of letting you go. I’ll be back.” He leaned forward and gave Gaea a big, sloppy kiss.
A heated blush crept over Cerissa’s cheeks at the public display.
Then he leered at Gaea. “Though hunting me down sounds like fun.”
Gaea tsked a frustrated sound, but an edge of affection sneaked in. “You still haven’t learned any manners. Now get your ass moving, because I expect answers when you return.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Lux leader evil-eyed them, her impatience a tangible force in the air. This would not be an easy task.
Cerissa grabbed Ari’s sleeve. “This way.” She led everyone through the lobby, guiding the group into the first small conference room they reached, with Tig bringing up the rear. A five-foot rectangular table and six chairs filled the space. “In here.”
Once the doors closed behind them, Agathe fisted her hands, faced Cerissa across the table, and harrumphed . “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Please, let’s all sit.” Henry pulled out a chair for Cerissa, and she eased onto the seat. Ari and Henry both took chairs, bookending her. Agathe glared down at them from across the table, not taking a seat on her side. Tig remained standing too, leaning against the wall to Cerissa’s right. Typical of her. From that position, the chief could watch everyone and whoosh to either side in a flash.
Folding her hands on the table, Cerissa sighed. “I did exactly what you sent me to do. You wanted me embedded in this community, and I am. You wanted the vampires fed, and I genetically engineered the clones and built Biologics Research Lab to accomplish the task. You wanted to know if we had other reproductive options. I tried making Lux the way vampires made children, and”—she wobbled her hand—“the jury is still out on whether it’s possible. But I still made Karen what she is, and I refused to abandon my child when the mob came for her.”
Agathe huffed, remaining on her feet, hovering over them. “And in the process, you revealed what we are, which directly violates your mandate.”
“Respectfully, she was staked—” Ari started.
“However inadvertently,” Agathe snapped. “The result is the same.” She shook her head slowly. “All the work we’ve done, everything we’ve tried to accomplish since arriving on this planet, all of it relied on one thing: secrecy. No mortal—or vampire—knew what we were. For thousands of years, we’ve lived hidden from the other species who inhabit this world. Until you came along and ignored our collective wellbeing to follow your heart.”
Cerissa wanted to point out that Inanna had suspected the Lux existed, and figured out they’d created vampires long before she ever met Cerissa, but there was no reason to piss off Agathe any further. So she took a different tack instead. “But your strategy—you were planning to reveal who we are to save humanity.”
“When the time was right. Not now. Not this soon.”
Cerissa inhaled deeply. Here goes . “Use Sierra Escondida as a trial run.” The idea had sparked when she’d seen Gaea wanting an explanation rather than outright rejecting Ari. And it’d grown when she envisioned how her friends had been willing to protect her and allow her to explain instead of letting fear control. “You have a community of vampires and mortals under one dome, and they now know about us. Perhaps not in the most ideal way, but—”
“We haven’t properly prepared the Hill community. Cerissa,” Agathe said, her voice as hard as granite, “do you understand the extent of the shock they experienced seeing your true form?”
“I’m the one who they pointed guns at. So yes, I do.”
The Lux leader started pacing. “Then you can accept why we’re going to have to take drastic measures—”
“But they pulled back. They stopped themselves. Vampires have already adjusted to one difficult truth—their transformation, their very existence, which is our fault. They’ll adjust to our existence, too.”
“Word will leak out.” Agathe rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. “Armageddon will start.”
“Why don’t you trust the vampires to do the right thing? They’ve kept their own secrets. Why do you think they’ll tell humans about us?”
“Because we can’t take the risk. If one person talks, all our plans are jeopardized. We can’t dome everyone this minute. We don’t have the resources in place to implement a large-scale plan yet.”
“What makes you so convinced a trial run would fail here? You can’t be sure of that—”
“Because, child, they’re afraid of us now. We won’t be able to persuade them to keep our secret. They’ll resist decisions imposed on them when they have no time to accustom themselves to the idea.”
Cerissa didn’t believe that was true. “Ari and I have been here for a while—that’s a familiarity we can use to our advantage. They’ll accept us faster than you think because we’ve helped them. The fear will fade.”
“Even if that were the case, and I’m not sure it is, everyone out there”—Agathe gestured toward Mordida—“they aren’t ready to learn about us. We have so much more subtle persuasion to employ before revealing ourselves.”
“You mean propaganda?” Henry asked.
Ari fanned his hands vigorously. “Ixnay on the opagandapray. Agathe has been working on an advertising campaign—social media, expert interviews, the whole enchilada—to feed them bite-sized pieces until it’s not too hard to swallow the truth.”
“Agathe,” Henry said, “no matter how much preparation you do, no one will ever be ready to learn of the Lux’s existence. Or be prepared for the domes when they come.”
“You’re the rational one.” Agathe stuck her fists to her hips and glowered in Henry’s direction. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Stop her from what? Saving Karen’s life? Saving mine? She is her own woman. I”—he took a deep breath—“I’m not in control of what she does. She is.”
“You’re going to wish you had convinced her to be less risky, vampire. Because of this fiasco, we’ll have to put everyone who lives on the Hill in isolation for the next ten years—”
Cerissa shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that!”
“We very well can.” Agathe squinted at the middle distance. “Maybe this is doable. We’ll install a fence along the main street parallel to the Hill’s wall and create an illusion to make Sierra Escondida look abandoned and uninviting to humans. We’ll retain the dome—”
“That will never work,” Cerissa said. “The Mordida Gazette has run articles on us lately. They know people live here.”
Agathe gaze flicked to Cerissa. “We have ways to deal with that.”
“But the treaty communities know we’re here.” Henry’s chin jerked back. “Thousands of vampires know about our community.”
Agathe’s harsh glare turned on him. “And they will hear that the entire valley was wiped out in a wildfire.”
Cerissa’s heart fluttered erratically. How could Agathe be so cruel? “Loved ones will think everyone here died. Jayden’s parents, Nicholas’s family, Henry’s maker—every resident here has ties outside Sierra Escondida. You can’t do that to them.”
“We can and we will.” Agathe huffed. “We had a plan. Ease them in slowly, not dump them in the deep. But this situation has ruined that. If we don’t do something, then their fear, their loss of self-determination, will drive them to make stupid decisions. You learned enough about human psychology during your training.”
Cerissa’s eyes welled with tears of frustration. “But that’s exactly what you plan on doing—take away the Hill’s self-determination. If you do that, they definitely won’t trust us.” She knocked her chair backward, standing to face Agathe, and it hit the floor with a clatter. “When I first started this mission, you told me we were doing this for the greater good. But no one truly knows the greater good, and I refuse to sacrifice my friends to serve your idea of the greater good. I won’t let you imprison them. I won’t.”
T ig pushed off from the wall she’d leaned against. She’d been quiet up to this point. But Cerissa was floundering while Agathe was overreacting. And there may be another way to approach this.
Tig huffed. “All control is illusion.”
Cerissa glanced at her, brow furrowing. “Huh?”
“Petar taught me that—how he performed his magic.” Tig lasered her focus on Agathe. “And if you think you’re in control of your reveal, you’re delusional. You have no control over when the reveal occurs and never did.”
Agathe shot an angry look at her. “Watch what you say, vampire.”
She didn’t just say that, did she? “First off, you’ll stop using vampire as a pejorative if you want our cooperation.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did. Just because the Lux have more advanced knowledge than we do doesn’t make us lesser than you, or your slaves to be ordered around.”
For the first time since they’d met, Agathe ducked her head and hunched her shoulders in, and her normally straight spine sagged forward. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.” She let out a breath. “My only excuse is that I’m trying to keep mortals and vampires—”
“And yourselves—”
“—yes, and the Lux alive, while mortals continue to devastate this planet.”
Tig attempted to relax her own posture. “About that. I have some thoughts.”
Agathe met Tig’s eyes and lifted an inquiring brow.
“Okay.” Tig took in a deep inhale out of habit. “I trusted you because you allowed me to make my own decision to retain my freedom. I’ve kept your secret, and Jayden has kept it, and Rolf and Karen have stayed mum for even longer.”
“True, but all of you had a personal investment outweighing your panic. You also believed we were not inherently a threat. But a hundred people? How do we convince all of them after the shock they’ve had? All it takes is for one to panic,” Agathe roared, her fist tight in frustration. “I don’t know how to fix this. I have to stop the flow of information—”
“No, you don’t,” Tig said, readying her next point.
“Excuse me?”
Tig snorted. “There is no threat, because no one will believe the rumors.”
Agathe eyed her carefully. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Over a month ago, we had a similar concern. A vampire named Callistus attempted to expose what the Hill hides. Even though he provided quite a bit of evidence to reporters and local government officials—good evidence, actually—most people thought it was a joke, or a hoax, or a Halloween prank the newspaper played on everyone.”
“Most, but not all.” Agathe paused. “And I’m certain you mitigated that evidence with your own—”
“That wasn’t the deciding factor. Modern-day people aren’t inclined to believe anymore. Cerissa revealed her Lux form to another vampire before, to a vampire named Olivia.”
Agathe cut Cerissa a sharp look.
Tig rapped on the table to get her attention back. “And Olivia was ranting about angels among us who were dangerous, but the entire community believed she’d gone revenant rather than even consider her claim. There was no hard evidence to back her assertion, and so the default was disbelief, not belief.”
Agathe scrunched her forehead. “You think if Hill vampires whisper to others that the Lux exist—”
“I think if any are stupid enough to whisper, they’ll have no proof, no actual evidence. No one will believe them. Former members of the military appeared in front of Congress and testified aliens exist, and nothing happened. No panic, no riots, no Armageddon. Mortals are inured to the idea—too many bad sci-fi and horror movies. You’d have to show up armed to the hilt and attack them before they’ll believe it’s real. And don’t even get me started on how artificial intelligence is going to change their mindset. Soon, they won’t believe anything they see is real.”
C erissa saw Agathe start to cave and jumped into the fray. “You don’t need the dome right now. You don’t need any drastic measures. You have your experiment here—vampires, mortals, and Lux living together. See if we can work it out without imprisoning them. Save the domes for when they’re needed to protect everyone from the coming climate catastrophe. Turn this into an opportunity—a trial run of the larger implementation of your education plan.”
Agathe looked back and forth between Cerissa and Tig before slumping onto a chair and rubbing at her eyes.
“Agathe, please—” Cerissa started.
“Silence.” Agathe rested her head in her hands, elbows propped on the table. “Let me consider the situation.”
Cerissa’s heartbeat thumped and rattled her entire body. It may have only been a minute in real time, but to her, the wait felt like a lifetime.
Had they said enough?
Eventually, Agathe looked back at Cerissa, her face unreadable. “I will take all your arguments into consideration when I bring this to the Assembly of Protectors.” Her gaze flicked to Tig. “Some are worth considering. But I have to ask the Assembly for advice. This matter is too important not to subject it to open debate.” Agathe rose from her seat. “For now, the dome stays until they decide to remove it.” She sliced a hand through the air, stalling any protests. “But I agree that this is best if turned into an opportunity. I will argue for that. We will test our presentation materials on this audience tonight and evaluate their reactions.”
Cerissa released a breath. If Agathe agreed with them, she’d ultimately convince the Assembly. They nearly always followed her lead.
“Presentation materials?” Henry asked.
“Yes, vamp—er, yes, Henry. How else are we to explain in an orderly manner?”
Ari released a cough that sounded suspiciously like it was covering a laugh.
Tig cut him a look. “I’m sure the residents will appreciate some order. And a guarantee that no one will be harmed while your Assembly discusses the situation.”
“Yes, we will give them that promise as well. We are not barbarians.” Agathe stood. “Let us return.”
Cerissa followed Tig back to the council chambers. The tension in the room eased when they marched inside, but gazes swept their way, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. The chief cleared space in the first row of seats so supportive friends would surround them. Karen still sat next to Rolf, chowing down on a bag of blood.
Cerissa breathed a sigh of relief. In the greater drama, she hoped everyone had forgotten about her child.
While people were shuffling around to make room in the front row, Marcus pulled Ari aside. Cerissa tagged along to eavesdrop in case Ari wanted help to convince Marcus the presentation would answer all questions shortly.
Marcus tugged at the corner of his mustache. “The truth. Did you use any…power…to seduce me?”
Ugh. Cerissa cringed, but stayed put in case she needed to intervene.
“Dude, no.” Ari sounded shocked. “I’m not a scumbag. Our affair was your suggestion.”
“I should have known something was wrong. You didn’t succumb when I tried to mesmerize you.”
Ari crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “So you can try your tricks, but if I’d done anything, I’d be the bad guy?”
“Forgive me.” Marcus raised his gaze. “I didn’t— I’m shocked to learn I’ve slept with an alien and had no clue.”
“You didn’t want to have a clue. But I guarantee you, you seduced me and consented of your own free will. I’m insulted you’d think otherwise, Marcus.”
“Uh, I— Yes, you’re right. I apologize. Again.”
Ari sighed. “It’s the shock of finding out. I get it. But what I am doesn’t change the fundamentals, okay? Come on, let’s listen to what Agathe has to say and you’ll see.” He turned around and blinked. “Ciss?”
Cerissa stepped back to avoid being plowed into. “Just here to support you, cousin. And we need to take our seats. The presentation will start soon.”
Marcus gave a bow and strode to his desk at the council’s right-hand side.
Ari moved to the front bench and plopped next to Gaea, whose hand he grabbed, kissing her knuckles. She tutted but didn’t move away.
Cerissa sat next to Henry. He slid a hand to her knee and squeezed. “Are you all right, cari?a ?”
Cerissa took a deep breath. Was she? Not entirely, no. But her friends were willing to listen, willing to have some faith in her. And Agathe was willing to have some faith in them.
She smiled gently at Henry and patted the back of his hand.
With the town clerk’s help, they loaded the slide deck. A motor lowered the screen from the ceiling, where it hovered at the side of the dais. Both the council and the audience could view the presentation at the same time.
Agathe took the center podium and introduced herself. “I am Agathe of the Bantu people. I was born in Kenya to a human mother and an Alatus Lux father over nine hundred years ago. Because of our genetics, I’m more Lux than I am human.
“We have coexisted on this world for over nine thousand years. Our mission is to preserve humanity. You were never supposed to know about our existence. But in order to fulfill our mission, we realized we’d have to reveal ourselves. You see, the world you live on is changing. It will soon be uninhabitable for mortals. They’ll die off slowly, but within a hundred years—”
Liza’s microphone clicked on. “Wait. If they die, we die. We can’t survive on clone blood alone. That’s what Cerissa told us—”
“Yes, that’s what our scientists have concluded. As you learn more about us, you’ll discover our species puts an emphasis on evidence-based science. So let me take you through the big-picture plan we have for saving humanity—and the vampire communities—and creating bio-habitats to preserve plants and animals from your world.”
“Why do you care about mortals?” Carolyn asked.
“The simple answer: we need them to reproduce. All Lux carry mortal DNA. I’ll have our resident scientist provide a seminar on the subject for those interested in a deeper dive.”
“You expect us to take your word that a climate catastrophe is around the corner?” Vishon demanded from the dais.
“I expect you to listen respectfully during our presentation and make your determinations from there.”
Powering through the slides, Agathe explained how a climate disaster was imminent, and that the exact cause was irrelevant, though there were several possibilities for what had created the problem, like human technology and resultant heat pollution. If they didn’t act soon, over eighty percent of mortals would die from starvation, drought, or disease in the next twenty years, and the rest would likely die by the century’s end. “It’s known as the tragedy of the negative commons. When there are no restraints on how mortals use limited natural resources, they will exhaust or pollute those resources. They don’t care about the consequences they’ll never see—they’ll die before experiencing the fallout from their own selfishness.”
Cerissa understood all too well the tragedy of the negative commons. The Amazon jungle, a necessary greenbelt for the absorption of carbon dioxide, was being hacked away for short-term gain, and its disappearance was just one of the innumerable contributors to the problem. When pollution of the natural environment had no built-in cost or regulation, some people—mostly functional sociopaths who worked their way into CEO positions in major corporations—would pollute the world without regard to others to make a profit or hold power.
But Agathe was right—who caused the disaster didn’t matter at the moment. Long-term species survival did, and vampires were long-term thinkers. Most were well educated because they’d had centuries to see problems played out in real life. They were going to live much longer than the average mortal’s life span, and Agathe was leaning into that mentality.
“We can create bio-habitats that will provide air and water and preserve agricultural areas to produce food.” She switched slides to artist renderings of the domes. “Right now, we’ve installed one of those bio-habitats to contain your community.”
“What?” Vishon yelled. “You’ve imprisoned us?”
“We need to slow the spread of information about the Lux. There are religious extremists who would use our existence to start a nuclear apocalypse.”
“Why?”
“Because we look like their mythical angels. They’ve misunderstood religious metaphors for literal reality, and, instead of the weather killing off all mortals, they’d bring on a scorched-earth apocalypse faster by their own actions.” Agathe inhaled and stood taller. “However, if you work with us, we can prevent that from happening. So we are embargoing the knowledge you gained today until we decide how to approach the premature release of our secret. We will try to make the situation as painless to you as possible and guarantee you’ll be safe during this period.”
Someone shouted from the audience, “But I need to talk with my stockbroker. I have trades pending—”
“Within twenty-four hours, we’ll establish ways for you to send necessary communications.” Agathe gave a respectful bow. “That’s all we have for tonight. Tomorrow night, we’ll answer any further questions you have. We’ll continue to do so each night until we answer all your questions and you are comfortable with the situation.”
“Uh, ma’am?” Zeke stood, holding his hat in his hand and rolling the brim nervously. “What if we’re never comfortable with the situation?”
“Our governing body, the Assembly of Protectors, should have a decision in a few days on whether we can lift the dome. But before we remove the Hill’s dome, I guarantee we will track and locate any audio or video recordings of our meetings with you, and erase them. We have the technology—and the power—to do so. When we lift the dome, you’ll be free to go, but know you’ll have no proof we exist. You’ll be a lone voice in the wilderness, and I don’t think the vampire communities will appreciate having attention drawn to them by you.”
Cerissa crossed her fingers. The Assembly didn’t make radical decisions quickly.
Then Agathe pointed at Karen, where she sat at the dais. “And the new vampire? Leave her alone. She was made by the Lux, not one of you. She’s under our protection now.”
Zeke made a choking sound, the confusion in his expression heartbreaking. “Cerissa really can make a vampire?”
Cerissa stood and faced the audience. Zeke had once tried to woo her. Was he now grateful he hadn’t been successful? “Since this is an important issue, allow me to show you.” With a shiver down her spine, she morphed to vampire form, and her stomach rumbled from hunger. “Zeke, come here.”
He returned his hat to his head and approached her. She opened her mouth, displayed her fangs, tilted her head back to let him check her fang serum gland, then held out her hands so he could see her fingernails. He pushed back his cowboy hat, looking flummoxed. “Her fingernails. She’s older than I am. How can she be older than me?”
“I was born in the late 1700s. The Lux live a long time, and when I morph into vampire form, I’m still that age.”
“But you were that ancient vampire—”
Okay, it was going to come out eventually. They may not like reality, but now was the time for truth telling. “The Lux can map another person and morph into their appearance. I mapped Inanna when we met in Hawaii, but I wouldn’t be able to stay in her shape for long. Her power level would drain my resources too quickly.” She shrugged. “Anyone else want to see my fangs for themselves?”
There were a few takers—including Mitch—but once he examined her mouth, he returned to his seat, paler than before the examination.
Starving, Cerissa grabbed a pouch of clone blood from the open case and drank it down. They’d brought two cases on the off chance the hearing lasted all night. There’d be plenty for Karen.
Finished, she tossed the empty pouch into the trash can by the defense table. Gasps rose from the room as her actions confirmed the truth for those who hadn’t conducted a close-up examination.
“Who’s going to sponsor Karen?” Vishon demanded. “A Hill vampire must either be the maker or the sponsor. Cerissa is neither.”
Henry rose. “I have asked a member of our community to do that honor, but given tonight’s revelations, I would like to give the potential sponsor extra time—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Gaea’s voice cut him off. “I’m happy to sponsor her.”
“Thank you, Gaea,” Cerissa said, shooting her a smile.
Jayden stepped up to the microphone next to Agathe. “For anyone still in doubt, I ran the V-DNA tests. I can report Karen isn’t the child of Henry or Rolf. If Cerissa gives me a sample of her blood, I can run the comparison to confirm she’s the maker.”
Agathe laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps tomorrow night. For now, those who have urgent business communications that must go outside the dome, please see Ari Dumont and he’ll help you.”