I wasn't yet convinced that this wasn't a cruel prank. Here I was at my company's display booth, talking to the Morgana Le Fay about some obscure science that I really wasn't qualified to discuss. I felt more than a little like a fake geneticist, in addition to being a fake vampire.

“Just tell me what you know,” She said, disarming me with her genuine, inquisitive smile. I knew she was a sorceress, but I had imagined that powers of persuasion would be far more…dramatic, I guess? Hand waving, multi-voiced chants in dead languages?

No, that was silly. Nothing about my experience as a mythical had matched the stereotypes, so it made sense that the legends about enchantresses were also overblown. Still, I wished I had some reference point for “bewitched by subtle magic.” I was a scientist; I needed a control group.

“Um…alright,” I said hesitantly, “So, you know about M-genes and H-genes, right?”

“Yes. But I want to hear it from a scientist's perspective.”

That was when the impostor syndrome dialed itself up a few notches.

“I'm really just a lab tech,” I demurred, scratching my head as a familiar itch began.

“And I'm a politician,” She genuflected, smirking, “You're closer to the science than I am.”

I gave her the Spock eyebrow, surprised by the self-deprecation.

“You're not…” I wanted to say “like them” and point to the bloated old men in suits we had left behind, but I was caught again by the realization of “Holy crap, I’m talking to the lady I’ve been crushing on from the storybooks since I was six,” and then my tongue seemed to corkscrew before I could tell her how much better, prettier, more interesting she was than those old crones.

“Just pretend I don't know anything. You were talking about M- and H-genes?” She said, her versatile smile now seemed to implore me to go on, like she was really excited about what I was saying. This brought its own brand of self-deprecation.

“I don't want to insult your intelligence-” I began.

“It's OK, just tell me what you do,” She admonished me playfully.

“Uhh…alright. Yes. OK.”

I took a deep breath.

“So you probably know, that, uh, M-genes give us our mythical traits: strength, mind-reading, the need to drink blood, etcetera. Um… different abilities for…  uh… enchantresses,” I paused, waiting to apologize for offending her, but she just nodded, “Well, H-genes gave hunters their traits: speed, super senses, all that. My job, it's basically… you know, run the experiments, get the numbers, give them to the smart guys,” I explained.

“Do you know what those numbers mean?”

“Um… some of them. We're looking for code sequences that make the protein that enables traits-” I began, then stopped before I went into too much esoteric detail, “We have theories about what we see under the microscope. The numbers tell us how wrong we are, then we adjust, and test again.”

Jittering so much from the nervousness at meeting Morgana had eaten up a lot of my stamina. It didn't occur to me how much until I started to sway unsteadily. I needed to feed. My heart began to race… and yes, vampires do have heartbeats. We’re not zombies. Nausea rose in my chest, and I began to faze out.

Suddenly, there was a warm hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality in all its queasy splendor.

“Are you OK?” Morgana asked, moving her hand to my back.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” I shook my head to clear it, “Hungry.”

“Do you need me to find you a Synguine?” She asked, voice full of motherly concern.

Well this was fantastic, I told myself. I was about to pass out from low blood oxygen levels in front of the most beautiful woman in the world.

“No. Yes. No, no I have one, just…” I trailed off, fighting back a nauseous belch. She guided me gently to a picnic table bench in an unpopulated corner, then helped me sit down without falling down.

“You can drink here, don't worry about me,” She said as she continued to rub my back.

My thoughts became conflicted. Vampires never fed in public, it was a carryover from the days when our forerunners used to stalk their prey in the dark. Now that we didn't need to feed on people, we still drank our blood substitute in private, not even around other vampires. It was shameful to be so barbaric as to drink bright red stuff that still looked like blood in the presence of others. It was one of the few things Vic had been absolutely strict about during the onboarding, and anyways, I seemed to feel the shame just fine without his admonishment.

Morgana was letting me know she wouldn't be repulsed by the act of me drinking fake blood in public, but it was hard to shake off decades of taboo.

“I'll…do that later,” I said, eager to change the subject, “Uhh…where was I?” I continued, succumbing to good old male stubbornness. She gave me a look of doubt, but didn’t press the issue.

“You were telling me about what the numbers meant in your experiment,” She replied.

“Ah. Yes. Um…” I couldn't remember the exact words I had been saying, so I moved on, “Well, the… the smart guys think they've found… um…” I trailed off again as I lost track of what I was saying, then remembered the subject but not the words, then finally recalled the words, “...antagonistic activator genes.”

She laughed, not at me, but at the confused look on my face. She was almost certainly amused by my semi-delirium, but I was just happy to make her laugh.

“Gonna have to simplify that,” She said, still grinning at my apparently hilarious face.

“Hmm. Basically…we've got all the DNA, the-the genes that give us powers, right? So, so…what they're seeing isn't uh…well, it looks like everyone has it,’ I said.

“Hunters and Mythicals?” She asked.

“I mean… everyone. Every human. But the AA genes, everyone has uh… a uh… hundred of them, at least, and they try to turn on the genes that give us our powers, but they…they fight other AA genes. Most of the time, they just…” I paused, searching for an appropriate phrase, cancel each other out? Also, something about antibodies and… I dunno. It’s weird.”

Morgana had thus far been paying considerate attention, but judging by her widened eyes and head tilts, this line of conversation had really aroused her curiosity. It felt wonderful to have said something she found so interesting.

“So everyone has all three? H-, M-, and the AA genes?” She asked.

“That’s the theory,” I could feel myself slurring the words, “Uhh… hypothesis. General… yeah. Hard to say for sure, though. Like a lot of vampire genetics, they… they haven’t ironed out all the wrinkles. Not uh…” I stopped, searching for a clinical way to say what I was about to say, “Not many test subjects.”

“Seems like you’d have lots of volunteers.”

“Other… vampires and Mythicals? Sure. Almost everyone. Could uh… could build a nice FBI database with all the DNA we have. But it’s… it’s the control group we have trouble finding. Can’t exactly go to a random guy on the street and say, ‘Hey, give me your blood, so I can find out why you’re not a vampire.’ Tends to get some odd looks,” I gesticulated to the air as I slurred out even more words. She laughed again, and I reveled in the feeling of amusing her. Could it be that I was actually getting comfortable around her, I wondered?

“So… start a blood bank?” She smirked. I actually rolled my eyes.

“Haven’t heard that one before,” I deadpanned, smiling to show her I was in on the joke.

I was getting more comfortable with this.

“The Synguine refresh presentation will begin in five minutes, a cheery female voice called out over the building’s PA system, “All attendees, please find your seats before it begins, to minimize distractions for your peers in the audience. Thank you!”

“Well, that kills the mood,” I groaned, smirking to show that I was joking. Morgana tilted her head in curiosity.

“Isn’t that the whole reason you’re here?” She asked.

“Well yeah, but…hmm,” I said, not sure how to put my discontent into words.

I really shouldn’t have been discontented at all. I was talking to Morgana Le Fay, the seductress who knocked off a king. Someone like me, so far down the hierarchy of badass, shouldn’t have even had such an opportunity.

“Come on. Let’s go find a seat,” She said, extending her hand to help me up. It felt a little emasculating, but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to touch her, even if it was just her hand.

It was exhilarating. I felt dizzy, blissful, and weary at the same time; I think the term was “swooning.” She was making me swoon. For a moment, we locked eyes, and I got lost there. Those deep green irises seemed to have no bottom. If eyes truly were the window to the soul, then hers was vast and wondrous. More than just infatuation, I felt a connection with her, like she saw me.

And I was terrified of that connection. I was nothing like a “real” vampire. She must have met thousands over the millennia of her life, and they must all have been more impressive than me.

******

“So…” My courage had evaporated again. We had found our seats in the auditorium, and like the crowd around us, we had grown respectfully quiet.

“You’re wondering why I’m here?” Morgana asked, uncapping a bottle of water and taking a few sips. It was like she was reading my mind.

Wait, could she have been reading my mind? She was an enchantress…

I didn’t want to continue that line of thought. If she could, she probably thought I was pathetic.

“Yes. I mean, you’re not a vampire. What, uh…what are you hoping to see here?” I asked, growing more curious to the answer as I kept talking.

“I’m just… inquisitive. After living so long, it’s easy to feel like there’s nothing new under the sun,” She stopped to laugh at her own turn of phrase, “No pun intended.”

It took me a few seconds to get the joke.

“Oh. Right. Sun. Because vampires…the sun…that’s pretty good!” I said, laughing along, internally cringing at my slowness. Another itch in my neck beckoned me to scratch deeply; I really needed to eat.

“Anyways… you live long enough, and you just stop noticing things, fall into routines. But there’s always change. Always something new to see. You just have to work hard not to close your eyes to it as you get older,” Morgana said.

“So…you want to see how synthetic blood has changed?”

“That, and then… who knows? Being around so many different Mythicals, it’s the best environment for learning something new.”

I could feel myself wanting to see things her way, but was starting to suspect that this was due to her influence. Of course I wanted to have something in common with the woman of my dreams, but did that mean I believed it?

Hope she couldn’t read my mind while I was thinking that. Would she be offended if she knew I was wondering if she was just pretending to be interested in me?

Gods, I was a mess.

“I don’t know. It all just seems…” I blew out a breath, “Mundane.”

The crowd noise seemed to rise. I looked to see if the keynote speaker was approaching the stage, preparing myself for an overly enthusiastic talk about “nutritional values more precise than ever.” There was no apparent reason for it, but the nervous din grew thicker, louder. A palpable discomfort was spreading through the air, swelteringly hot and full of pressure, like we were in a pressure cooker.

Then someone screamed.

In Morgana’s face, there was panic, but only for the briefest moment. Her demeanor transformed in an instant: muscles went tense, eyes wide, fists lightly clenched. It was a ready posture, ready for anything in the absence of further information.

And then, another instant change as recognition visibly bloomed in her mind.

“Go. Move. Toward the side exit,” Morgana said, her voice quiet but sharp. She was crouching, pulling me out of my seat and down as close to the floor as we could get.

“What? I…” Stammering, I looked at her, then to the direction of the screaming.

It was a mistake. A wave of people was rushing toward us, some screaming, some too petrified for words. All wore the unmistakable, contagious look of primal fear, the kind that overrode every conscious thought.

“We have to move!” Morgana said, her tone harsher. She yanked at my left arm in an incredibly strong motion that I thought would pull my arm out of socket. It was an effective way to get my attention.

The screaming grew louder, taking on discordant, eerie notes I somehow knew were the sounds of dying Mythicals. A smell like burning plastic crept towards us, making me want to gag. Morgana gripped my hand tighter and again nearly dislocated my shoulder.

“Let’s go! Now!” Morgana said. The mass of bodies was about to overrun us. My hesitation was costly.

“That’s right! Run!” A booming voice called out. Every nerve in my body seemed to electrify itself, and without transition, I felt my body grow ten times heavier. My dread only intensified as I found the right words to describe what was happening.

“Darkchaser,” I said, shuddering. Another strong tug at my hand, squeezing it with vice-like strength, sent a rush of clarifying pain through my mind.

“Which is why we need to go. Now,” Morgana urged.

Only now did I grasp what she had understood before the panic had begun. The truce, which had lasted 160 years, had been broken.

A hunter was here, and he was out for blood.

******

It wasn’t possible. That was the thought I kept coming back to, odd as it was. It just wasn’t possible.

By the time I became a vampire, the truce between Hunters and Vampires had been in place for 100 years. The anniversary had been celebrated by both sides, though of course, not in each others’ company. It had been another 60 since then, and as far as I could tell, the truce defined how things were, how they’d always be. We stopped preying on humans in our various ways, and the Hunters didn’t actively… hunt us. It had been hell on both sides for many years as we tried to convince our respective fringe elements to stand down and move on, but…we managed. We thought the Hunters had, too.