“Everyone deserves life,” Desiree stated simply.
Desiree took Clayton by his shoulders and hoisted him on her back. Her sudden acceleration made his nausea worse. She carefully placed Clayton on the ground well beyond the influence of the mist.
Desiree was swift as she rounded up as many as she could and laid them near Clayton.
Several minutes later, Clayton was able to sit up. He perched himself against a tree as Desiree sat beside him.
“That was a courageous thing to do, Desiree.”
“What do you mean?”
“Saving some of my tribes and me. You’ll be an outcast with the other smellers like yourself.”
“I never really fit in any classification.”
“By definition, you have to fit into one of the different smelling groups.”
“I base vampires on their actions and not what smell comes from them.”
Clayton peered at her youthful appearance. “I find that I am swiftly growing fond of you, Desiree.”
“Thank you.”
“My name is Clayton of the Cole Tribe.”
“I know who you are. Now stand up. We need to get you and your sweet smellers out of here.”
Desiree led Clayton several feet further when he fell to the ground. “You’re much weaker than you know, Clayton.”
“What sort of weaponry did I just witness?” Clayton asked in stark terror.
“I don’t know. I am not privy to such information.”
“Take me to the nearest town. I have friends there that can help my remaining comrades and me.”
“Of course,” Desiree said as she zipped away.
As his home grew in the distance, Clayton swore he would avenge his family. He didn’t care how long it took.
Chapter Nine
The Inception of the Fellowship of the Fangs
Stanford University, Assembly Hall 1912
Stanley Pearson was behind the curtains and looked at the full upside-down U shaped assembly hall with a measure of delight and unease. His packed audience of affluent and educated people gave him hope he would be taken seriously in California as opposed to his other ridiculed misfortunes across the United States.
He looked at the large poster board and his poster, but the massive clouds of smoke from people’s cigarettes threatened to cloak the arena. Pearson saw his new assistant and pulled him aside. “Mister Ward open the curtains and then the windows! I need the assembly hall smoke free for me to proceed!”
“Yes, sir,” Marty Ward said and hurriedly walked away.
Marty whisked people from their duties and assigned them the arduous task of opening the massive red curtains and using long poles to unlatch the window locks and open them.
Only after Marty was satisfied most of the smoke was gone did he go to Stanley Pearson.
Stanley Pearson was sitting at a lone desk when Marty whispered, “Ahem.”
“Yes, what is it, Marty? Can’t you see I’m going over my notes?”
“Of course. I am here to let you know the cigarette smoke has dissipated. You’re free to give your lecture, sir.”
“Excellent!” Stanley said as he slapped Marty on the back. “I knew I could count on you!”
“Thank you, sir. I just wanted to say I have been following your exploits...”
“Yes, yes, of course, you have,” Stanley said absentmindedly as he took a few deep breaths, walked to the curtain, waited a few more seconds, and then, in a dramatic display of showmanship, swung both curtains open wide.
The applause was a bit more unenthusiastic as he had hoped. He refused to let that affect his speech.
Stanley looked around his audience for a few seconds for effect. “Ladies and gentlemen, right now, sitting across from you, or perhaps several rows from you could lurk a species that has gone unnoticed for eons!” The crowd echoed with surprise. Stanley took that as a good sign.
He pointed to the gathering as he walked across the stage. “You see, I’ve been researching a phenomenon for the past decade! And I am here to tell you in no uncertain terms, that vampires do indeed exist!” He stopped walking and faced the crowded arena.
The laughter was immediate, as Stanley expected. It always was. But this assemblage was going to be different from his other lectures.
A crowd member from the back row rose. “Absurd!”
Another man stood up. “Preposterous!”
Stanley put up his hands. “Gentlemen, let me finish! Please, take a seat!”
Both wives took their husbands by the hand and forced them to sit. Chuckles rippled through the crowd.
“On May the 26th, in 1897, an author published a book about a vampire. The book was loosely based on Vlad the Impaler. I say to my audience that I have credible evidence he based his book about a species of humans that have largely been ignored….”
A person stood up and was rigid in his defiance. “Oh come off it, sir! You expect us to believe this nonsense?”
Stanley looked at the person with assurance. “Of course, I do! You spent your money to come to listen, so why doesn’t everyone stop complaining and actually listen to what I have to say?”
All across the vast land of the United States, Stanley Pearson had to listen to people's bellyaching when he lectured about the topic. He was fed up. This time if people left the assembly hall, Stanley would feel he had stuck up for himself.
“I have heard complaints similar to yours all across our great nation. Please, just listen to me for a few moments, and then all of you can go on your merry way. That’s all I ask.”
Nods of assent swept through the crowd. Finally!
“The author based his book on Transylvania in Romania, but he never went there. However, it was in Eastern Europe, where I researched the topic further!”
“Who funded your research?” a man to Stanley’s left asked.
“I belong to the Fellowship of the Fangs. They sponsored me. While I do travel across the globe, when I am in town, we have a meeting every Friday night at the library if anyone is interested.”
“What do you do at the meetings?” someone asked.
“We discuss ways of exploring other parts of the world using new and improved technology. We seek to find abnormalities of any kind. Some of the
