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   Chapter 30 No.30

Prodigal Sun By Christina Engela Characters: 5421

Updated: 2018-07-13 19:01


"Someone on Deanna is building an army of racist, xenophobic fascists… and everyone knows who they hate! Everyone else on Deanna is in danger! What is the Council doing about this?" Marla demanded. "Aside from just watching, I mean?"

"We don't have an army, Marla!" Vernon shrugged. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Warn them at least!" She urged, leaning hard across the table. "There's still time to stop it! Isn't there?"

Vernon shook his head sadly, and smiled at her.

"And tell them what, my dear?

"Why, everything you've just told me, of course!"

"Which we will explain how exactly? Or do you think telling them that vampires are real and have been living among them secretly for centuries – and there are thousands of us on Deanna – will be good news for them? Hmm? News of that magnitude will be impossible for them to digest, Marla – and it's unlikely to end well for us!"

"But we need to try!" Marla insisted. "At least try!"

"Alas, it's already too late for that! There are too few of the right people still in place now to do anything! We have to look at other ways to help them through this."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't live as long as we do, and yes, they can be like children compared to us – and some are very bad people, but most of them are not. We can still try to help them, even without them knowing what we are. Whatever is going to happen, it will happen suddenly. When it does, we must use our extensive underground network to keep our people safe – and to help as many of our mundane friends to escape as possible! We must try to keep them safe!"

"An underground m

gathered around the table were not gry-haired academics or pale wiry heads of department at ACU. These were all driven young men, lean and hungry-looking, hand-picked by McMillen himself to play specific roles in his grand plan.

"We're ready for your briefing, General Clayne." McMillen said, calling the meeting to order.

A young man of around thirty-five, seated at the middle of the table, rose. Like the rest, he was dressed in comfortable clothes, a pair of jeans and t-shirt.

"Good morning." Clayne began. "As you all know, we've been working long and hard for this! Professor, this is all because of you! It's all thanks to you! All our efforts will pay off soon! Monday is the day!"

"Thank you all!" McMillen nodded, graciously acknowledging the chorus of agreement. "Please continue!"

Clayne, the man McMillen had addressed as 'General', turned on the map table – which happened to be the table they were sitting around. In an instant, the top of the table lit up to display an aerial map of the great central plain of Deanna. Atro City was at the center.

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