In the depths of the hangar, far from the sun's reach, we waited.

The pilot of the passenger plane that we had occupied not long ago informed my father and I that a car would arrive shortly to deliver the two of us to the front steps of the Council headquarters. I was relieved we wouldn't be sitting here much longer. The Louisiana air was stifling, much hotter than anything I had experienced back home in New Jersey and the pant suit I wore wasn't helping.

My father stood off to the side and checked his cellphone periodically, for what reason, I wasn't sure. I supposed he was checking the time, seeing as he never had any real reason to use the thing. He hardly text anyone, and he wasn't a fan of social networking sites; on top of that, my father barely knew how to work the smart phone. I didn't question it though, and sat in the corner, happy he had found something other to do than speak with me.

Although, I knew at some point today he would have to talk to me. And fuck him if he thought I was going to make it easy.

A black limousine pulled up at the edge of the hangar, the doors covered by the dark shadow the structure created. My father nodded in the direction of the car and I pushed off the wall and followed closely behind him, silently praying the limo would have the air conditioning pumping.

"The compound is a few miles away. It won't take long to get there," my father said while he settled into his seat.

"Good," I replied and stared out the window, trying my best to ignore my father and focus on something other than the growing anxiety that had my stomach churning from the moment I woke up.

"I spoke with Silas again this morning. He's excited to see you."

"Isn't that wonderful."

My father sighed. "How long are we going to keep up with this, Quinn? You can't stay angry at me forever."

I turned toward him. "I damn well can. And I will."

"You're acting like a pissy child."

"And I'll continue to act that way for as long as I want, because you've managed to ruin my life in only a few hours' time," I glared at him.

"I didn't ruin your life. I'm going to make it so much better for you, Quinn. You'll see," he said.

. . .

The limousine pulled into the compound and stopped to flash a badge to the guard at the gate. A large sign sat a few feet away from the guard's post.

"Erebus Industries," I said quietly and looked back at my father. "This is the headquarters?"

I had remembered hearing about this place on the news.

Erebus Industries was one of the country's largest defense contractors. They provided weaponry for our military, as well as some of the most highly advanced security systems, and had ties to both military and government officials.

If only the humans knew who they were working with.

"Yes, it is. The company is owned by Silas and a few others, all of which are non-human. Most of the employees that work within the main building are a variety of creatures, though there are humans. Very few of them, though," he peered out the window. "The very top floor of the building right there," he pointed to a tall building, "is where all of the Council meetings are held. And we'll be there shortly."

I groaned. I hated heights. Hated tall buildings.

And this building was obnoxiously tall, I noted as I climbed out of the car into the sunlight. I shielded my eyes and glanced over at my father. He had put on a pair of sunglasses and did his best to avoid the sun, though I could tell he was already beginning to burn, as his face was twisted in pain.

"So, here we are," I said flatly.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder. "Finally, yes. Let's get inside before I wind up looking like an overcooked piece of steak."

. . .

We entered the lobby of the Council headquarters. The massive room contained little to no furniture, excluding the leather chairs positioned in the far corner, surrounding a coffee table stacked with magazines, and the receptionist's desk just ahead of us. The floors were of a marble so black it appeared as if we were walking on a pool of ink. The walls were a slate grey color and on them were numerous plaques boasting the achievements and various other awards the company had earned, which there were plenty of.

A young-looking blonde woman peered up at us from behind her computer and rose to her feet. Dark brown eyes flitted from my father—a tall, brawny, well-dressed man—to me, a waif like teen with a Mohawk in a pant suit that made me look far more ridiculous than I would have wearing nothing but sweatpants and a t-shirt. I groaned when her smile dipped ever so slightly and ran a hand through my hair, wishing to Christ that this day would end soon.

I could only wonder what the other's reactions would be, and hoped that it wouldn't be anything like the one I just received, and frowned, silently admonishing myself for even being worried about making a good impression. I didn't want this. So why should I care?

"Can I help you?" she asked, never taking her eyes off of me. I narrowed my eyes at her. She looked away.

"Yes, we have a meeting with Mr. Riess this afternoon," he said and reached deep into his pocket. He pulled something out—an ID card—and slid it across the countertop. The girl took the small piece of plastic into her hands and examined it.

"She is with you, Mr. Ragno?"

"Mhm. This is my daughter, Quinn," he smiled.

"Ah. So you're the one Mr. Riess has been talking about. You look promising," She offered a tight smile and punched a number in on the phone sitting on her desk. While she waited for someone to pick up, she began typing something into the computer.

My father stifled a laugh.

I lowered my voice while the receptionist yammered on to whoever was on the other line and spoke. Her eyes every so often drifted from the computer screen to the two of us, and each time I returned her gaze with a glare. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her to fuck off and quit staring at me.

"For some reason, I feel like you're trying to humiliate me."

"Now why would I do that? I'm your father after all. And one would never do anything like that to their own flesh and blood," he said in mock offense.

I laughed bitterly. "Father or not, I've learned the blood means nothing," I rolled my eyes. "You'll do whatever it takes to get back at me for giving you shit about all of this."

"I would never. You should know me better than that," he shook his head and removed the sunglasses that he had been wearing.

"Excuse me?" the receptionist said, clearing her throat to get our attention. She waved her hand to the door beside the desk.

A man stood in the doorway, dressed in a light grey suit. He was thin, too thin even, and was of average height, only a few inches shorter than my father I guessed. The beginnings of a beard covered his cheeks, giving the man a rugged look. He regarded me with a smile and a raised eyebrow and walked toward me, hand extended.

I shook it firmly when he paused before me and smiled.

"Well. You are certainly not what I expected. I'm Damien; and if the head's decide to have you as the next chancellor, I'll be your advisor. Now come along. They've been waiting."

Without another word or acknowledging the fact my father was right there beside me, Damien turned sharply on his heel and walked back through the door he had presumably come through not moments before and led the two of us to the elevator.

The twenty-something story ride up lasted an eternity and I all but collapsed and kissed the carpeted floor when the doors hissed and released us from that metal death trap.

Damien placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't like elevators, huh?"

"She never did. Not after she got stuck in one as a kid. They've made her panicky ever since," my father explained.

He nodded. "I see. In the future, we'll have to find a way to keep you from getting all worked up. Your anxiety…for however long you remain alive…could be a bit of a problem."

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, and understood immediately at the sight of two dangerously sharp points peeking over his bottom lip. His grey eyes were startlingly bright; I had seen the same thing when my father was about to feed, or had finished draining the life from someone and tried to calm myself down. I'd set him over the edge if I didn't.

"Fear always sweetens the blood," I said aloud, more to myself than anyone else, recalling the words my father had told me time and time again, the very words that played in my head last night while he toyed with Mary for that short period of time.

I heard Damien chuckle softly. "Indeed it does. Are you ready?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

The Vampire punched a code into the keypad on the wall and within seconds, after a loud beep confirming he had entered the correct combination, the lock on the doors clicked, and Damien reached out to open them.

"Good luck," he winked.