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power from the vampire guards.
    Nikki gasped.
    Rebellions had been common when the first blood farms had been established after the war, when wild human populations had still existed in vampire-controlled territory. Back then, humans had still outnumbered their vampires neighbors more than twenty-to-one, and due to the peculiar breed of blindness that affects humans in dire situations, they had still been holding out hope that they could turn things around and win the human-vampire war. So when the first farms were established by the governorships in order to ensure that the growing vampire population and the dwindling human population didn’t end up in a food shortage, humans had fought the new businesses tooth and nail — both from inside the farms and from outside, as rescue crews attempted to penetrate the external security. Many human stock had to be killed. For some strange reason during those conflicts (a reason Reginald had blamed on yet more arbitrary supernatural rules established by angels and their ilk, like “humans can’t be glamoured into slavery”), glamouring didn’t often take on human blood stock and never held permanently.  
    But that had been a long time ago. Today’s blood farms were nothing like those first tentative ones. Forty years ago, humans had to be strapped down tight before they could be drained through IV lines, and hippie human rights groups like Nikki’s had had a heyday. But in time, as new generations of humans were born into captivity, blood stock began to accept their situations as normal and they stopped fighting. Blood farming was opened to private enterprise, and companies like MorningFresh moved into the previously-government-only space and made a big deal about treating humans humanely. They allowed their populations to live in contained, closely watched communities that almost resembled the primitive communities from the human past. Rebellions (or even mildly insurgent behavior) had all but vanished, and when problems arose, a round of glamouring was usually a sufficient answer. When Reginald had learned this last bit, it had chilled him. If humans couldn’t normally be glamoured into slavery, then the fact that glamouring could subdue farm humans today implied something terrible: that they no longer even thought of themselves as slaves.  
    Nikki watched, her hand on her open mouth. Once upon a time, bloodshed hadn’t been shocking to either of them — to any of them, all across the world. But all of the bloodshed these days went into tubes and pouches, and thinking about what must be going on inside the farm’s main building made even Reginald’s prophetic hair stand on end.
    The cameras continued to flip from view to view as the situation slowly unfolded.
    As Nikki and Reginald watched, they saw blurs and blood and fire and smoke. There were several brief interviews with local vampires who told reporters how shocked they were, saying that they used to talk to some of the more intelligent humans through the fences — and, when the guards would allow it, to toss them food. The MorningFresh facility was spacious and clean. The stock there had always seemed so docile. Yet earlier in the day, a troop of humans were being led from their pens to the milking chamber by MorningFresh techs (not even handlers ; MorningFresh was a civilized workplace where animosity wasn’t usually necessary) when several of the stock had pulled homemade wooden shivs from their clothing and had staked the techs. The guards had taken a few startled moments to react, and those few seconds had been enough for another group of humans to come up behind the guards and string garrotes made of old silver jewelry around their necks. Using the silver, they’d wrangled the guards to the ground, ripped off their armor, and staked them, too.  
    That was all the reporter on the scene seemed to know. The initial report had come from a tech who’d escaped, and what had happened since then was anybody’s