Meeting the Reporters

Somewhere outside of Rideten, Present Time

“Are you sure?” Heath asked Aislen under his breath. “Victor was right, we can spin this two ways.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, giving his thigh a squeeze. “We’ll be open about what we are, to a point. We won’t let them see us take out the Van Helsings, though. We’re going to be the friendly, personable supernaturals that everyone wants us to be.”

The meeting point was a remote house about a twenty-minute drive outside of Rideten’s main town, and along a maze of small dirt tracks. The house was typical of the region, a squat single story that blended into the landscape and didn’t possess a single attractive feature to it – built for function and not appearance. The sheds that flanked it were newer, bigger, and had probably cost more to build.

They parked around the rear where three other vehicles already waited, and he wondered how many families had woken up that morning to find the family car had been stolen as none of the cars matched in b