The car was a fancy BMW four-by-four. The sort an upper-class twat buys because his driveway sometimes has leafs on it. The guy didn’t even turn to look at us when we got in. He was keeping his eyes on the approaching road, watching for anything he deemed suspicious.

“This him?” He grunted, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, this is Mac.”

“Pleasure.” He looked at me properly and gave an exaggerated grin, revealing his perfectly-kept teeth with two that seemed far longer than they should be.

I gave Jason a look, he nodded, sitting in the passenger's seat as I sat myself down in the back along with a backpack of anything I could quickly grab from the flat. The engine rumbled into life, joining the road and taking us out towards the motorway.

Two strangers occupied a building opposite the block of flats. An unoccupied office block that had been up to let for years now. One was knelt at the window level with the flat, peering through binoculars. The other was on the roof, flicking through a large leather-bound book.

“Sand, can I have an update, please?” A voice radiated from the man on the roof. His mouth didn’t move when he spoke, but the woman at the window could still hear him with perfect clarity. Sand was a powerfully-built woman. She was tall just by nature but regular visits to the gym as well as her storied career had given her a fairly imposing figure. Her skin was dark, thanks mostly to her Indian heritage, with dark hair cut short so it wouldn't get in the way.

She wore a large blue-grey coat covered in pockets that barely hid the stab vest and holster concealed underneath.

“Door’s closed, blind is down.” Sand said to the empty air, the man on the roof nodding, looking between the starry sky and the complex diagrams of his book. “Had a mobile signal earlier. Looks like the vampires beat us to him.” The reading man frowned.

“Let’s just hope they can control him…” His voice echoed again. The woman at the window stood up and stretched her back, cleaning up any traces she had left of her presence as she turned away from the window.

“Clay, I don’t like this.” She admitted, heading for the stairs back down to street level.

“Liking it isn’t part of our job.” Clay retorted, snapping his book shut and slipping it into the small leather messenger’s bag. Clay was a tall and thin man with equally thin features, ill-kept hair and a dirty brown jacket that better hid his own firearm. Once he had everything secure he stepped up onto the ledge of the building, looking down at the street below.

Sand grumbled something, locking the door of the office behind her without touching it and pulling her hood up over her head while above her, Clay stepped neatly over the edge.

He landed without a sound a few steps ahead of Sand waited for her to catch up. Sand rolled her eyes at the needlessly theatrical display. Clay smirked, proud of himself.

“Copper says it’s all under control” Clay reassured.

“He always says that.”

----------

“How’re you holding up?” Jason’s question snapped my attention back to him. I had been staring out the window and lost track of time.

I blinked and shook my head a little. Sitting in the car had allowed the adrenaline to subside and my mind to settle.

“Fine. I think.” I focused myself a little harder on the slowly thinning cityscape. Every aspect seemed to have way too much detail, colours far too saturated. It made me dizzy, like looking into a bright light after being in the dark for too long. Jason tapped me on the shoulder, trying to reassure me.

“Deep breaths.”

The driver was taking us out of town and into the countryside. He seemed to be very deliberately avoiding major roads as soon as we left the city center, sticking the winding B-roads that switched between crushingly dense woods and wide open fields with no middle ground.

“If you've got any questions, we've got a little time before we get to my place.” 

“You said my dad asked you to keep an eye on me. Why? I didn't know I was in any danger.”

“You weren't, you are now.” Jason quickly glanced over his shoulder, looking out the back window to the road behind us. “Basically there's a whole lot of politics going on and people are going to be fighting over you.” I blinked in surprise. I was nobody, why would the Families be fighting over me?

“Why? Dad never said anything about that.”

“That's something you'll have to take up with him.” Jason said with a bit of a shrug. “But the short version is that you've got the potential to be a pretty big player.” I narrowed my eyes, I was in my mid-twenties and nobody had ever even hinted at something like this before.

“What, am I some kind of chosen one?” I asked with a bit of a scoff.

“Yeah, something like that.” Jason turned back to face ahead in his chair and I could only stare in confusion.

The car approached a huge stately home that was way off the beaten track. It was huge, four stories tall and looked like it had been built up over hundreds of years. Golden sandstone and white painted wood surrounded by acres of gardens and a dozen smaller buildings.

“Holy crap.” I knew the Families were old money, but this was almost a palace. We pulled up into the large gravel driveway in the front of the house, parking beside two more similar cars. The driver jumped out and walked around the side, opening the door for Jason.

“Sir.” He stood to attention at the door.

“This is crazy.” I said with a disbelieving laugh, another mobster opening the door on my side of the car and holding my backpack in his other hand. I hopped out and looked around. The place looked like any National Trust garden and I half-expected a group of lost German tourists to waddle by at any moment.

“Jason.” A new voice cut through the cold early morning, a deep and imposing. Jason and I turned to look at the source of the sound. A man stood in the doorway to the house, tall, a few shades darker than Jason and proud-looking with an iron jawline. He wore a large double-breasted coat that wouldn’t look out of place on a naval officer with a red stripe running the length of his lapels. His hair was long, tied back in a well-kept ponytail.

“Hey, dad.” Jason was suddenly standing that much straighter, taking his hands out of his pockets.

The man stepped down from the doorway, focussing his attention on me. His gaze burned and I struggled to hold eye contact with him for more than a few seconds at a time. The man stopped a few paces away from me, staring down at me. There was a long pause in the conversation as the huge Elder Vampire sized me up.

“So you must be Mitchell. Welcome to the family.” He, smiled, broad and only partly sincere. He gestured to me and Jason, indicating for us to follow him inside.

The inside was just as over-the-top as outside, huge polished stone pillars held up a huge split-level entry hall, dark stained wood polished to an almost mirror shine with white washed stone. The place was amazing to look at.

It was full of activity to boot. Plenty of people, well, Vampires I suppose, were walking between the various doors in each wall, usually with armfuls of papers, packages or Belgian assault rifles. I began to wonder exactly where they had gotten guns like that in England. But considering the rumours I had heard about the Families before, the level of politics these guys operated on probably meant they could hide any evidence faster than you could say “vote conservative.”

“So, Mister Cowell.” Jason's father suddenly turned on his heel to face me once we were through the door, hands held behind his back. “I understand you left in rather a hurry to get here. Shame. Nobody likes being thrust into a life like this.”

I stayed silent.

“Rest assured that you will be perfectly safe with us. We have far more to offer you than anybody else around here. A proper life. With proper meaning.”

He nodded to the guard standing off to one side. They stepped forward and offered me a a small paper-wrapped package. Carefully, I accepted it and unwrapped it. The whole time the guard was staring none-too-subtly at my hands.

“You will need these.”

Inside the pack was a pair of dark red leather gloves. They were beautiful, expertly made and sewn with a strange swirling floral pattern. I didn't understand what he meant, none of the other mobsters around us wore gloves, but I wasn't about to turn down a gift.

“Thank you.” I croaked, my voice catching in my throat, taking the gloves and folding them neatly to put them in my coat pocket.

“If you don't mind, I would like to offer you a private word, Mitchell.” Mr Knight held one hand out, palm open and indicated to one of the huge dark oak doors that flanked every side of the hall led me through into a small side room where two chairs were set up facing each other across a chess-patterned table, a silver platter held a pair of crystal liquor glasses. One side of the room was taken floor-to-ceiling with a huge bookcase, another by ranks of curio cabinets containing trophies, aged photographs, maps, swords and a single enormous sniper rifle. “Please, take a seat.” Mr Knight said genially, moving over to the opposite chair and sitting down. I suddenly felt like I was in a job interview.

“Your father was a close colleague of mine.” Mr Knight began before I had even sat down. The old creamy brown leather was creaky but luxuriantly comfortable. Or maybe I was just that tired.

“Though he has made a number of choices with which I do not agree. Tell me, Mitchell. Do you know exactly what you are?”

Never trust a leading question. But I could tell already this was going somewhere. “Dhampyr.” I said simply.

“Your mother was a human?” Mr Knight's eyebrow raised but the rest of his face stayed stone.

“I've only met my mum twice. My parents divorced when I was a baby.”

“Andrew never told you about her?”

“It was always a sore subject. I learned to avoid it.” Mr Knight nodded slowly.

“Would you like to know the truth?” I felt a cold chill roll over my back. How could you say no to a question like that? “Or would you prefer to hear it from your father?”

I swallowed hard and the taste of metal in my mouth refreshed itself. “Tell me.” I croaked after a few seconds.

“Your mother is a Dragon.” Mr Knight motioned with a single finger at my arm, which I had been unconsciously scratching through the whole conversation. I pulled my hand away and rolled up my sleeve, revealing that under the split skin was a thick layer of red and black scales. Shocked, I ran my finger along the surface. It was smooth but ridged, each layer shifting with the moves of my arm but didn't obstruct movement, hell they didn't even feel heavy or numb at all, it just felt like another layer of skin.

“So you see why I am interested in you joining my organization?” Mr Knight continued without missing a beat. “You have the opportunity to be very influential.” He stood up from his chair and took two steps towards me, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I pondered for a few seconds. From where I was sitting, this was all gain, if more than a little bit of a shock. A Dragon. What a thing to take in.

I stood up from the chair and took Mr Knight's hand, shaking it firmly. He was at least two feet taller than me and had a grip like steel.

“A pleasure to have you aboard. Jason will show you to one of our guest rooms. Your things have already been taken up for you.”

He released my hand gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, motioning towards the door I had come in by, which was now open and had Jason awkwardly poking his head around the corner. Jason nodded his head with a broad smile and I drifted rather wobbly out of the side room and fell into line behind Jason. The hallways looped left and right and switched back on themselves. I supposed living here long enough was a key element of not getting hopelessly lost.

The guest room was at the far end of the building, almost double the size of my bedroom back at the flat, with a massive four-poster double bed, en suite bathroom and balcony to boot. I was used to seeing these kinds of places on school trips where nobody was allowed to touch anything. But now? This bed was mine, this whole place was mine.

“I've got some work to take care of.” Jason said, stopping just outside the door. “You take some time to rest, get yourself together, yeah?”

I nodded a little awkwardly, still taking in the frankly absurd luxury of the room.

“Good stuff, gimme a buzz if you need help.” He flashed me a quick thumbs up, slapped the doorframe and then just walked off. I'd need to ask him just how he could be so relaxed. Maybe it was something you just got after a certain amount of time, and it wasn't like I didn't have plenty of time.

I slowly drifted through the room and out the balcony doors, sitting on the cold stone border and draping my feet over the edge, the events of the night began to turn over and over in my head.

There was no denying now that I had changed. Even if you ignored what was happening to my arms. My vision was the best it had ever been, I could make out every detail of the tree-line in the distance and the patio below, every tiny granular marking and chip. I could hear conversations 3 rooms away, feel every swish of the wind around me. It felt like it should have been some kind of massive sensory overload but in a strange, way it felt fantastic! Like I had finally thrown off a heavy coat and felt what the world was really like. Which I suppose was true in some way.

It felt like now was a good time for some introspection, just zoning out and waiting for the nerves to subside. So I decided to just sit there and stare off into nothing for a little while.