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except enjoy talking about the drama of what may have happened.
    Also, in many cultures, should there be an occasion where
one “disgraced the family” – which happened often in more conservative
times - the family would simply cut off contact and never talk to the offender
again. This was a vampire’s wet dream. No tracks and no search parties -a gift.
But these days it was different.   Computers made everyone track-able. A trail led to each person on the
planet, save maybe for the third-world countries. (A fact that made those
countries a veritable haven and heaven for the undead.)  
    Scientists didn’t believe in vampires, yet, but if they
did it would be disastrous.   The
desire to remain young would make vampires a huge commodity. They would be
experimented on and of course, more would be made.   A lot more. Vampires do not want the world overrun by vampires as
they are far too egotistical a breed to want to be “one of many.” Besides, what
would they eat?   To prevent
catastrophe and discovery, most vampires held to some form of self-controlled
parameter. A rule-set that kept them - Safe and Fed.
    Safe and Fed – the vampire creed.   In line with this code, vampires
respected the rights of other vampires, for the most part. They respected what
they were, and what they wanted - which was always to survive. This respect,
maintained by the code of conduct, always served their creed.   A fight, after all, vamp to vamp, would
not end easily. Pissing off another vampire meant a feud that sometimes lasted
centuries. You couldn’t sleep comfortably knowing you had an enemy. It could
make eternity agonizing and nobody wanted that.
    If a vampire was a troublemaker, word would go out and
together they would deal with him or her, in whatever manner necessary, and by
majority rule. Meetings were held. Decisions were made. Alliances formed. All
to make damn sure everyone stayed the way they wanted ; Safe and Fed. Best to get along.   Avoid those you weren’t fond of.   The world was big enough - if both parties were of that same mind.
    She watched Gene, thinking of the man he’d murdered. His
victim had made truly amazing films, groundbreaking achievements that elevated
the form and inspired society. He’d started a production company that employed
over five hundred people. He’d had a wife, even though it was his third one,
and she loved him.   He was a
participating father to his three kids from varying marriages.   She’d taken the time to listen to the
family’s interviews and their words were backed up with genuine tears of loss.
    The more she’d researched, the more convinced she became
of the belief that Fred Rimaldi should have stayed around to make more films,
love his children longer, kissed his wife goodnight for many more years.   He’d earned his millions.   He had earned a right to keep them. This
jerk took all of it away, and why? Out of some overdeveloped sense of
entitlement and maybe jealousy.  
    She thought of her cousin Millicent and how she’d turned
her back on Daniella and her father when they needed her, all because of
jealousy. Anger grew inside of her as she watched Gene pace his room. Plus, she
hated khaki pants.
    He must have attempted to call twenty people. No one was
taking his calls. You lose friends when you’re on trial for murder. He startled
his calico cat as he threw his phone onto the floor in front of it.   The cat, frightened, backed up into a
small statue and knocked it off the table.   The statue shattered on the hardwood floor and made Gene hit the roof.
“Jesus!” He rushed the cat, grabbed it and threw it in a rage across the
room.   It made a horrible pained
sound as it slammed into the side of a table. “I bought that in FUCKING FIJI, Oswalda !!!” he screamed.  
    Dani felt her eyeteeth change form. Sharpen. Lengthen.
She ran her tongue along one and bit into it, feeling the blood break out,
tasted it.   Her tongue healed
immediately.   It was