The Divergence

Lavinia exhaled slowly as another swell of noise reached her through the walls.

The room Violetta had called a preparation room was probably intended for performers, speakers, or anyone else who needed somewhere private before stepping onto the stage. 

Mirrors lined one wall beneath bright lights, several counters and chairs occupied the center, and two doors led respectively toward the hallway and backstage area. 

None of the vampires needed makeup, and after the considerable effort of getting everyone cleaned, dressed, and out of the hotel suite, there wasn’t much preparation left to do.

So they waited.

Lavinia tilted her head toward the wall.

Hundreds of voices blended into an indistinct murmur beyond it, punctuated occasionally by applause whenever someone apparently said something worth acknowledging. 

She could separate individual conversations if she concentrated, hear chairs shifting, shoes scraping against the floor, and far too many heartbeats to bother counting.

She looked back at Violetta.

”How did you get this many people to come?”

Violetta stood near one of the mirrors, adjusting one cuff of her dress. ”I didn’t.”

”It’s almost midnight.”

”People wanted to come.”

Lavinia glanced toward the wall again.

Midnight wasn’t particularly late to her anymore. 

The night still had hours left, and under ordinary circumstances she would have been perfectly content to remain awake until the sky began threatening sunrise. 

Humans, however, generally weren’t nocturnal, and many of those outside had spent the evening sheltering from a seemingly endless flood of murderous wildlife.

Violetta smiled warmly. ”When people learned what happened—when they learned the soldiers, werewolves, and vampires had successfully repelled the Tide—many wanted an opportunity to express their gratitude.”

Evangeline, lounging in one of the chairs, crossed one leg over the other. ”Or some people in charge realized this is a convenient opportunity to make the vampires feel more included.”

Violetta’s smile remained.

She didn’t disagree.

Lavinia snorted. ”Probably both.”

Gwendolyn raised two fingers in a V sign. ”Either way, maybe people finally won’t be able to make things up about us.”

Rosaline turned her head slowly toward her.

A smirk appeared.

Gwendolyn’s hand lowered. ”What?”

”They’ll absolutely still make things up.”

”Rosaline.”

”They will.”

”Let me be optimistic.”

”You can be optimistic and wrong at the same time.”

Gwendolyn pouted.

Violetta lightly clapped her hands before the conversation could turn into another argument.

”Tonight isn’t about proving anything to anyone. It’s to thank the people who defended Oakridge, and we played a substantial part in that defense.”

”A very substantial part,” Valerie said.

Violetta glanced toward her.

Valerie smiled sweetly. ”There was a giant spider.”

”Yes, Valerie. I’m aware.”

”A very big giant spider.”

”We were all there.”

Cordelia, who had been sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, looked toward Violetta. ”Are the werewolves here?”

”They are.”

”In another room?”

Violetta nodded. ”I thought everyone would be more comfortable that way. We’re all attending the same event, but I didn’t think the wolves or vampires would particularly enjoy being kept in the same preparation room for an extended period.”

Lavinia raised her hand.

Nobody had asked for hands.

Violetta nevertheless looked at her. ”Yes, Lavinia?”

”I wouldn’t mind too much.”

Valerie immediately reached over and caught Lavinia’s face between both hands.

Lavinia’s cheeks compressed.

Before Valerie could say anything, Lavinia continued through slightly distorted lips, ”They helped protect the city too. I can survive sharing a room with them.”

Valerie released her.

Lavinia rubbed one cheek. ”I’ve gotten used to the smell. Kind of.”

”That’s what I was going to comment on,” Valerie said.

”I knew.”

Diana, standing beside Ophelia, looked curiously between them. ”Do all of you dislike werewolves?”

Adelaide shook her head. ”Not particularly.”

”The smell,” Rosaline added.

Adelaide nodded. ”Their scent is rather glaring to us. Especially when several are together. But that’s not the same as disliking them.”

Lavinia leaned against the edge of one counter. ”That’s pretty much how I feel.”

She thought briefly about the pack they’d fought at the mall. The dumb wolf had certainly done nothing to improve her opinion of wolves. 

Someone had died because of him, and Lavinia could still remember with perfect clarity the instant she’d realized the human lying nearby was actually dead.

But Chloe existed.

So did Chloe’s pack.

They’d exhausted themselves fighting for Oakridge before the vampires could even leave shelter, rested, and then returned to the defensive lines later. 

Whatever instinctive discomfort existed between their species, Lavinia couldn’t reasonably look at that and pretend they were the same as that other pack.

”We tangled with one dumb pack,” Lavinia continued. ”That doesn’t make every werewolf an asshole. Chloe and her pack are another example. I wouldn’t meet one terrible human and decide humans are terrible, so I’m not going to do that with wolves.”

Ophelia’s expression suggested she found that logic straightforward enough.

Violetta smiled faintly.

A gentle knock interrupted them.

The door opened a few inches, and a handsome man in a dark suit leaned inside. His hair was neatly styled, though the faint shadows beneath his eyes suggested he’d had a much longer day than his appearance otherwise implied.

”General? Almost time.”

Violetta nodded. ”Thank you.”

He disappeared again.

Lavinia straightened.

Her pointed ears twitched as the crowd beyond the wall shifted.

For a moment, she remembered the first time she’d sat beneath lights with people watching her. The attention had felt heavier then. 

Every expression had seemed worth analyzing. Every question potentially dangerous. 

She’d been painfully aware that people weren’t simply looking at Lavinia—they were looking at a vampire, one of the first examples of something humanity had barely begun to understand.

Tonight felt different.

Perhaps she had simply stopped caring as much.

Perhaps standing in front of a crowd wasn’t particularly frightening after fighting a hundred-foot monstrosity.

Either explanation worked.

Violetta led them through the backstage corridor. Their boots made a soft procession against the floor while the noise ahead grew louder. 

Lavinia could hear the audience with increasing clarity now, along with the uneven sea of heartbeats filling the hall.

She wasn’t nervous.

That realization made her smile.

When the cue came, Violetta stepped through first.

The others followed.

Applause struck them almost immediately.

Lavinia’s ears twitched at the sudden volume. She walked onto the stage alongside Valerie and Gwendolyn while the rest followed, and the applause grew into cheering from portions of the audience.

It was considerably more enthusiastic than she’d expected.

She looked across the crowd.

Hundreds of people occupied the seats before them. Some stood. Others clapped from where they sat.

Phones were raised despite the extreme distance and repeated requests from authorities throughout the Tide that people stop trying to film and remain somewhere safe.

Lavinia wondered how much of the reaction was genuine.

She couldn’t tell.

Not completely.

Humans were complicated. A person could applaud because everyone around them was applauding. 

Someone could be grateful and frightened simultaneously. Someone could appreciate what the vampires had done tonight while still believing they shouldn’t exist.

But there were faces she recognized from the defensive positions.

Soldiers.

Medical workers.

People who had actually been there.

Some of their expressions were unmistakable.

Gratitude.

That was enough.

The man who had called them from the preparation room rose from a chair near the center of the stage and approached Violetta. He shook her hand first.

”General Violetta.”

”George.”

Then he looked toward the remaining ten vampires.

His smile became slightly apologetic.

”I’m George, by the way. General Violetta very kindly gave me everyone’s names and pictures beforehand, so I have been studying.”

A few people in the audience laughed.

George lifted one hand. ”But there are eleven of you, and this has been a very long evening, so please bear with me if I somehow manage to call somebody the wrong name.”

”You’re forgiven in advance,” Rosaline said.

”Thank you. That’s one fewer person I have to worry about.”

More laughter.

Lavinia liked him almost immediately.

Not in any particularly deep sense—she’d known him for approximately fifteen seconds—but he possessed the kind of easy confidence that made interacting with strangers look effortless. 

He didn’t speak to them as though they were dangerous creatures that might become offended at any moment, nor did he swing excessively far in the opposite direction and gush over them.

He simply spoke.

That was probably a valuable quality for someone who regularly addressed crowds.

George returned to his seat as the vampires took theirs.

Unlike the previous interview arrangements Lavinia had experienced, there were no refreshments on the stage.

She looked at the empty table.

Tragic.

George waited for the applause to settle before addressing the audience.

”The eleven vampires joining us tonight fought along Oakridge’s defensive perimeter during the Tide. According to the reports we’ve received, their arrival significantly reduced pressure on several defensive positions, and their continued advance prevented sections of the line from being overwhelmed.”

Applause rose again.

Lavinia settled back in her chair.

George continued once it faded. ”Earlier tonight, Oakridge faced something none of us could have reasonably prepared for. Military personnel, police, emergency workers, civilians, werewolves, and vampires found themselves facing the same threat. And when that threat came, they fought together.”

This time, the cheering was louder.

Lavinia looked across the audience rather than toward George.

She watched faces.

There was gratitude there.

Relief.

Exhaustion.

A few people looked almost excited, perhaps caught up in the strange unreality of attending a ceremony hours after wondering whether their city would survive the night.

But there was confusion too.

Lavinia understood it.

A few weeks ago, vampires hadn’t existed.

Then they had.

Humans had spent those weeks trying to decide whether they were monsters, people, predators, victims, citizens, medical miracles, security threats, or some bizarre mixture of all of them.

Now vampires had stood between Oakridge and destruction.

People would need time to fit that into whatever picture they’d already built.

George turned slightly toward the vampires. ”When Oakridge needed help tonight, the vampires living among us stepped forward. Whatever debates continue tomorrow—and I suspect there will be many—the city recognizes what happened tonight.”

Another round of applause.

Beside Lavinia, Valerie leaned forward slightly.

Her lips barely moved.

”I’m bored.”

The volume was far below what a human should have heard from several feet away.

Lavinia’s mouth twitched.

Gwendolyn leaned subtly toward Violetta. ”Do we really have to sit through hours of pleasant things being said about us?”

Violetta didn’t look at her. ”This is the civilian portion.”

”That didn’t answer the question.”

”When the military commendations begin, things should move somewhat faster.”

Gwendolyn’s expression brightened.

Valerie whispered, ”Somewhat.”

Gwendolyn’s expression fell again.

Lavinia suppressed a laugh.

Onstage, George continued speaking about the people who had manned the defensive positions, medical teams that had worked through the attack, and civilians who had assisted with shelters and evacuation. 

The vampires weren’t being presented as the sole saviors of Oakridge.

Lavinia appreciated that.

They’d done a lot.

Probably more than any single group once they’d entered the fighting.

But soldiers had been dying for hours before sunset while Lavinia was trapped indoors waiting for the sun to disappear. 

Werewolves had arrived while daylight still covered the city and fought until exhaustion forced them to withdraw. 

Humans had operated artillery, maintained supply points, carried the wounded, treated injuries, and held positions against creatures that could actually kill them.

Tonight belonged to everyone.

Lavinia could tolerate being bored for that.

Probably.

───

Ethan Vale stared at the screen.

His face had gone pale.

The broadcast filled most of his monitor, the eleven vampires visible onstage while the audience applauded them again.

He had spent much of the period following the First Divergence warning people about vampires.

Then he’d continued.

Predators hiding behind beautiful faces. Creatures humanity was accepting far too quickly. Undead beings whose interests could never truly align with those of ordinary people.

He’d been certain people would eventually understand.

Instead, the vampires were being applauded.

Celebrated.

Called defenders of Oakridge.

Ethan leaned closer to the screen.

It didn’t make sense.

They’d killed animals.

Animals.

Yes, some had apparently been larger than normal. 

Reports described bears several times the size people expected, enormous spiders, oversized birds, snakes and countless other creatures.

There were videos circulating, although Ethan had dismissed many as altered, exaggerated, or impossible to verify.

But had the vampires really saved everyone?

Or was this simply useful?

An opportunity.

A disaster that could be shaped into a story about coexistence.

His jaw tightened.

Humans had dominated Earth for thousands of years. Humans possessed firearms, armored vehicles, explosives, aircraft, artillery. 

The idea that animals—larger or not—could suddenly become such an overwhelming threat seemed absurd.

And now the vampires were sitting beneath bright lights receiving applause while soldiers who had actually fought were reduced to part of the background.

At least, that was how Ethan chose to see it.

He opened a document.

His fingers struck the keyboard rapidly.

Vampires Take Credit While Human Soldiers Pay the Price.

He stared at the title.

Good.

He began writing.

He described the ceremony as political theater. He questioned why so much attention was being given to vampires for killing animals while human soldiers had defended the city for hours. 

He suggested the crisis was being exploited to lower public suspicion toward supernatural beings.

The words came faster as his irritation grew.

How dangerous could the animals truly have been?

Even if they were twice the normal size?

Three times?

Humans were armed.

Prepared.

Organized.

What could animals realistically do against modern weapons?

Ethan leaned closer, fingers moving faster.

The lights flickered.

He stopped.

They steadied.

His eyes narrowed.

Then the room went dark.

The monitor died.

The computer shut off.

Ethan sat motionless.

”No.”

Several seconds passed.

The electricity returned.

His computer began rebooting.

”No, no, no.”

He waited impatiently, fingers tapping against the desk. The moment the system loaded, he reopened the document.

Nothing.

The file wasn’t there.

Ethan stared.

He searched the recent documents.

Nothing.

Autosave.

Nothing.

His expression twisted.

”Fuck!”

The curse echoed through the room.

He shoved himself back from the desk, stood, paced twice, then dropped into the chair again.

On another device, the ceremony continued playing.

The audience applauded.

Ethan looked toward it.

Eleven vampires sat beneath the stage lights.

Lavinia appeared to be whispering something to the orange-haired one beside her.

They laughed.

Ethan’s jaw clenched.

He opened a new document.

For several seconds, the blank white page stared back at him.

Then he began again.

Vampires Take Credit While Human Soldiers Pay the Price.

His fingers struck the keys harder this time.